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a thousand miles, then we shot away from the car beside us as if we had just
vaulted to warp speed, changed lanes tighter than a suppository in a fat man s
ass, went weaving, honking, and being honked at all the way to the Presidente
Intercontinental.
As our driver pulled into the driveway at the hotel and I stepped out on solid
ground, I felt like a ripped-up teddy bear that had just had its legs sewn
back on, but without all the stuffing.
Our driver lugged our luggage out of the trunk with the care of a murderer
disposing of a body in a tar pit, and a fellow who looked as if he could
bench-press the taxi came out, threw our bags on a rolling rack, and showed us
he had all his teeth and every one of them yellow. Jim Bob paid the taxi
driver, and we followed our toothy man with the rack to the front desk.
 I haven t had that much fun since my last yeast infection, Brett said.
 I just kept my eyes closed, Leonard said.
Jim Bob talked in Spanish to a pretty woman at the desk with too much eye
makeup. They smiled at each other a lot. Jim Bob borrowed the desk phone.
The phone conversation was short. Jim Bob talked to the lady at the desk
again. She gave him some keys.
Jim Bob said,  César already has our rooms. You and me, Leonard, we re
roomies.
 Oh boy, Leonard said.  Up late spitting water and reading fashion
magazines.
 Hot damn, Jim Bob said.
We rode the elevator up with the man with the luggage carriage, got our stuff
loaded in our rooms, paid the guy off, then took a walk down the corridor
where Jim Bob knocked on a door.
César opened up and let us in.  Qué pasa, he said.
He was dressed in a navy blue shirt that fit him tight as a grapeskin. His
pants were tight as well, and too short. He looked like someone who had tucked
his belongings into his crotch and was trying to wade high water.
Ferdinand appeared, wearing what must have been one of César s shirts; it was
black as the grave and the collars were flared as if they were wings. He was
silent as usual, sat at the table near the window, looking down at the streets
and the hot sunshine. He was drinking a Mexican beer. Another was on the
table, opened.
 Would you like drinks? César asked. He opened up the little bar with his
key. Brett and Leonard took a beer, I took a Diet Coke. We sat on one of the
beds, César took a chair at the table. He said,  Our little mistress is quite
the busy one already.
 Aren t we supposed to go out and spring on her or something? Leonard said.
 In due time, César said.  I have followed her before, remember. Jim Bob and
I followed her. But I have watched her before that.
 Why? Brett said.
 I have watched her because I have watched everything there is to know about
this Juan Miguel. I am very patient, you see. But I must confess, this idea of
kidnapping her, it had not occurred to me. It is a good idea for what you have
in mind. I should have thought of it some time ago.
 We are masters of crime, I said.
 She is in this hotel, César said.  It is where she always stays. She will go
to the Museum of Anthropology. She will shop, and she will come to the
restaurant here to have her dinner. This is her schedule in the past.
 What if she changes it? I said.
 It is possible, but I will chance that she does not.
 You re chancing our money, César, I said.  I only have so much. I can t run
around all over Mexico.
 Trust me, César said.  Tell them, Jim Bob.
 Trust him, Jim Bob said.
 I feel better, Brett said.
 What s up with the Museum of Anthropology? Leonard asked.
 That is for Juan Miguel, or so I believe, César said.  I think she is trying
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to sell certain pieces that Juan Miguel has to the museum. She goes there each
time she comes here. Juan Miguel, as I m sure my friend Jim Bob has explained
to you, is known to have an extensive collection, known to traffic in
antiquities. So it is possible.
 And maybe, Brett said,  the reason she s his mistress is she shares Juan
Miguel s interests. Maybe she isn t just a poke piece, but someone who is
smart, sophisticated, and loves anthropology and archaeology, and maybe his
wife doesn t.
 And she s a poke piece, Jim Bob said.
 That too, Brett said.  But Hap and I are attracted to each other because we
share interests.
 Like what? Jim Bob said.
 Chickens. He protects them, and I deep-fry them.
 I was once asked to masturbate a rooster, I said.
 I don t even want to know about that, Jim Bob said.
 I think that I would, señor, said César.
Even Ferdinand looked interested.
I told them about being offered a job to garner rooster sperm. César laughed
as if I had told him the best joke he had ever heard.
Brett said,  That s my man.
 Yeah, I said.  Hard to believe I turned them down.
 About this thing we re doing? Leonard asked.  You know, the thing that s not
as exciting as jerking a chicken s nub, but this thing with the woman . . .
She has her bodyguards with her, of course?
 Of course, César said.
 Are they big?
 Big enough, señor.
 As in big and mean?
 I would say so. Yes, señor, big and mean.
 Shit.
 Armed of course? I asked.
 Unless those big bumps under their arms are breasts that have slid sideways,
I believe so, señor.
 Maybe we could talk them into just arm wrestling us for her? Leonard said.
 Will you two just shut up, Jim Bob said.
I looked at Leonard and grinned. He wrinkled his mouth into a near smile.
Brett reached over, patted me on the leg. She either loved my humor or was
kind enough to make me think so.
 The best time to grab the woman would be when they come up from dinner to
their room, César said.  They have a very nice room at the top of the hotel.
 You know they re in this room because they always are? I asked.
 Yes. Juan Miguel pays for this, so he sees she has the best. Tomorrow, that
will be the day when she does the serious shopping. It is too late today, and
I am too tired. I say we have a good dinner, rest, and tomorrow, I will tail
them. Is that how you say it, Jim Bob, tail them?
 Yeah, Jim Bob said.
 I will tail them, and then when she has her dinner, you will be prepared when
she comes up, and you will take care of the guards  [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]