Disclaimer: These guys do not belong to me (except "Mike" and I don't
really want *him*). This is written for fun, not profit or copyright
infringement. Flowers and chocolate and a roll of duct tape to the
incredible Miss Becky for beta reading and offering some most excellent
suggestions.
Survivors ~Melody Wilde
Part 10
Voices. One female, two male. Arguing. He heard his name and decided it was time to wake up a little and pay attention.
He had been thrown into the back seat of the car and was lying sprawled sideways, his head against someone's leg-probably Ajedrez. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but it was long enough for his body to be protesting at the awkward position.
"//We can't go back there. It's the first place anybody would look.//" Ajedrez.
"//And who's going to be looking for him? Thomas?//" Fredo snorted. "//The look on his face...he was about to piss himself.//"
"//Do you think you hit him?//" That was Javier, in the driver's seat.
"//I don't know. Maybe. It doesn't matter. He won't stop running until he gets to the U.S. border. And do you think he's going to talk-tell anybody what he did?//"
"//Please, Fredo. I don't want to go there.//"
It was nice to hear her not in control. His lips twitched slightly.
"//I'm telling you it's safe. Even if Thomas did talk to somebody, he wouldn't mention the house. He knows it's sold-he just doesn't know the new owners won't be there for another month. It's the best place. Anyway, where else would we go?//"
To hell. That would be good.
"//You're probably right, but...//" Her voice faltered. She sounded weaker than she had earlier. "//I don't want anything to go wrong this time.//"
"//Nothing will. We'll all spend a little quality time there tonight.//" Fredo gave a nasty chuckle. "//Then first thing in the morning I'll take care of the other one, just like we planned.//"
The other one? Who else were they pissed at? That gave this thing a whole new non-deja vu spin. Not necessarily a good one.
"//So, Sands, are you almost ready to wake up and play?//" Fredo had turned in the seat, reaching an arm back to jerk at his cuffed hands. He gave a low moan and then made himself go limp again.
"//Fredo, do you think...//" Javier again, his voice quieter, hesitant. "//Could I...perhaps...have some time alone with him tonight?//"
"//You want to fuck him, don't you? You filthy pervert!//"
Sands couldn't help himself. The disgust and righteous anger in Fredo's voice made him give an involuntary snort of laughter.
"//Good. You're awake.//"
No use pretending anymore. He struggled upward, still grinning. "Oh golly, this evening has certainly been a triumph for the scales of balance. Mike was more upset about his car than about murder. Now *you're* calling *Javier* a pervert. I can't wait to see what's next."
He heard an aborted movement from the front seat, then Fredo muttered, "//We'll be there soon enough, now that we can quit driving around in circles.//"
Okay, maybe he *could* wait after all. He leaned against the door and turned his head toward Ajedrez.
"It was stupid of me not to realize that you might have a cell phone."
"Yes, it was."
"So are we going to do this whole torture thing all over again? Back to the ranch, strap me to a chair, try to talk me to death, bring out the whips and chains, and so forth?"
"No. Not quite the same."
"Good. I hate reruns."
"We don't have as much time now. We'll have to be quicker."
"Quick and dirty. Just the way you used to fuck."
He felt her hand on his cheek and braced for a slap, but instead her fingers crept up to pull off his sunglasses. "You never used to complain. I bet you still wouldn't. You know, you'd be lucky to get the cheapest whore in Mexico to fuck you now, Sheldon." She laughed softly. "My father did a good job on you."
He didn't want to be reminded of that day, or to think of what was coming, so he decided to change the subject. "Why Mike?"
"Because I hate you."
He shook his head impatiently. "I know that. Why did you use *him*? Why all the subterfuge? Why didn't you and all your guys just come and grab me?"
"Because there are no 'guys'. Fredo and Javier are all I have left." Her voice had turned ugly. "You killed everybody else."
"Hey, babe-not me. It was..." And then he put the pieces together. El. That's who Fredo was going to take care of in the morning, after doing whatever it was that he planned to do to Sands. Knowing Fredo, it would be an execution-a shot from a rooftop or from an alley. And if he missed the first time, he could try again. They knew where to find El-the motel, the bar, home...
"Oh my Christ."
"You're learning, sugarbutt," she purred. "Know what? After he kills your friend, I'm going to let him go kill the woman and the boy too, just because I know it'll hurt you."
"Don't." The word came out of him before he could think.
"Don't? You mean you really *do* care? That you'd beg for their lives?"
Only an idiot would give her the pleasure of begging, especially since he knew in advance that it wouldn't do any good. Only a stupid desperate fuckmook.
"Yes. I'll beg. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt them. Please?"
She gave a trill of delight. "Yes, Sheldon, you *will* 'do anything'. And so will we."
The car turned left and he heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. He ground his teeth together to hold in a scream of rage and frustration.
"Almost there," Ajedrez murmured. Her hand slid away, taking the glasses.
He had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let them kill his friends. He had to get away somehow. Warn El. He shifted, moving his hands to the side, hoping Ajedrez wasn't watching as he searched for the door handle.
The car rolled to a stop. He jerked the handle up, then flung himself out. He was running even before he heard the sound of another door opening, going right so that he'd be heading down the side of the car and back the way they'd come. They'd gone straight after the turn. If he kept going straight, if he could outrun them, he could get to the road. He was in shape again. El had made sure of that.
Running footsteps behind him, two sets, one pounding, one lighter. But they weren't close. He could make it. He knew it must be dark so far from the city. If there was no moon...the dark didn't matter to him, but to them...
The heavier footsteps stopped. He realized what was happening and veered sharply to one side, then the other, even before he heard the first shot. Shit. Fucking hell. How much farther... His right leg buckled under him and he went down, rolling. There was no pain. The leg just refused to hold him when he tried to push himself back to his feet. He reached down frantically, trying to find out if he'd been hit.
Blood. And then the pain started, streaking upward through his body. And then he felt hands on his arms, dragging him roughly to his feet. He braced for a retaliatory blow.
"//Get him inside and stop the bleeding.//"
"Why thank you, Fredo. Gee, you're-"
"//She doesn't want you to die yet.//" He was transferred to another set of hands. "//Take him. I'll help the senorita//"
Javier didn't have Fredo's bulk, but he easily manhandled Sands back down the driveway and up the steps, hauling him up when he stumbled and shoving him forward when he faltered. He wondered why they were moving so quickly, then realized he must be bleeding more badly than he'd thought.
"//Inside.//"
Javier sounded short of breath. He guided Sands through the doorway and forward. "//Across here. Down the hall.//"
"Sorry, but you'll have to do the driving. I can't see where I'm going. No eyes." He tried to turn his head to let the other man see the empty sockets, but Javier pushed him onward. His shoulder slammed into the next doorframe. "And you're a *lousy* driver," he muttered.
"//Here.//"
A door closed behind them. His knees bumped into something and then he went down, face first, onto a bed. "What..." And then he knew.
"//You will be silent.//" He felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against his neck, felt Javier's body settling onto the bed to cover his.
"//Your boss and her little friend are going to be pissed if you kill me.//"
"//I don't have to kill you. I can knock you unconscious instead. But I would prefer to have you awake.//"
"//Fredo isn't going to like this either, you know.//"
"//Fredo has his sicknesses and I have mine. Now be quiet.//"
"Oh fuck," he muttered as a hand moved roughly down his side.
"Si," Javier whispered.
* * *
As usual, Lorenzo came sauntering in fifteen minutes before check-out time, looking as fresh as if he'd spent the night in sound sleep instead of entertaining the pair of young women he'd taken away from the bar.
"//Good morning.//" He picked up his bag and began to toss his things in. He lifted his eyebrows in question. "//How was the night?//"
"//He's not back yet.//"
"//It went well then.//" Lorenzo grinned.
"//He's not back,//" El repeated, glowering.
Lorenzo's good humor faded. He glanced around the room as if to verify that El hadn't just overlooked their friend, then shrugged.
"//So? Give him a break. It's probably been a while for him. Let him enjoy himself without worrying over him like his chaperone.//"
"//What if something happened to him?//"
"//He's a big boy, you know.//"
"//And he's blind.//"
"//Even blind men need to...//" Lorenzo made a rude gesture.
"//Do you want to be the one to go back to Mamacita and tell her that we lost her boy?//"
All traces of the smile faded from Lorenzo's face at that. "//Do you want to start with the bartender?//"
El rose, slipping his gun inside his jacket. "//You stay here. Pay them for another night, just in case. I'll go to the bar and find out where the woman lives.//"
"//You realize he's going to be really pissed if you burst in and interrupt them.//"
El shook his head. He had begun to have a bad feeling about this when he had woken to find that Sands had not returned. "//I'm willing to take the chance.//"
* * *
He hadn't expected the bar to be open this early, but the door was ajar, even though the sign still read "Closed." He pushed it open and stepped cautiously into the room. It was quieter than the night before, and cleaner. A man in a white apron stood behind the counter, arranging the liquor bottles for the day's trade. A man in a rumpled dark suit sat at one of the tables, a line of beer mugs before him.
"//We're closed,//" Apron said.
El gestured. "//What about him? You're serving him.//"
"//I can't fucking get *rid* of him. Not without calling the police. And he *is* police, so what good would that do?//"
The man at the table looked up, squinting at El, then muttered blearily, "You."
An American. Late 30's, beginning to go to fat, blond hair cut short and obviously combed conservatively before his drinking binge. El moved to drop into a chair across from the man. "Yes. Me."
"The bodyguard. Look, I didn't mean to... It was a mistake. I...oh Jesus God I fucked up." He folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them. "They're going to have my badge for this, if they don't send me to prison."
"You are CIA?"
His head moved once.
"What is your name?"
"Mike Thomas. I was...oh shit."
El gestured toward the bartender. "Coffee."
"I told you..."
El gave him a Look, and the man hurried to put on a pot. He turned back to Thomas. "What is it that you have done, Senor Thomas?"
"You have to understand." He lifted bleary eyes to stare at El. "It's just...it was my big chance. He always got everything-the grades, the girls, the assignments-and I never... I didn't mean to. I didn't even know the car was him. I swear."
El took a deep breath and put on his most patient expression. "Start at the beginning."
"I saved for two years for that car and-"
"Not..." He held up a hand for silence. "...that far back. Has something happened to my friend?"
"Sands never had any friends."
"He does now," El said flatly. "What have you done to him?"
"Nothing! I swear. It wasn't my fault. I didn't know."
"Where is he then?"
"I don't know. They took him. I was lucky to get away. They wanted to kill me. If he hadn't fallen when he did..."
El decided he was through being patient. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled his pistol and pointed it at the agent's head. Thomas went white.
"I didn't mean to!" he wailed.
"And I will not mean to pull the trigger, but you will still be in pain. Now, Senor Thomas, start at the beginning and tell me what has happened to Agent Sands."
Thomas swallowed hard and reached for a half-full mug of beer. El's arm shot out and knocked it off the table. "Talk!" he snapped.
"These...these two AFN agents contacted me. I mean...they said they were AFN. They said their agency wanted me to work with them to bring in a killer...a rogue CIA agent."
"Sands."
"Yeah. They said....a woman had called them two months before. Sands' wife."
"His *wife*?" El's eyes narrowed.
"She...she said she was his wife. That he'd killed five men...one of them was an AFN agent. They said they'd been looking for him, to arrest him, but..." He looked longingly at the bar. "Can't I have a-"
El slammed his hand down on the table. His voice was cold with fear for Sands. "You need to start talking more quickly and making more sense with your story, Senor Thomas, before I become angry."
"They almost killed me!"
"And if they kill my friend, *I* will kill you. And it will be slow and painful. Now tell me."
Terror did more to sober him than the cup of coffee the bartender set in front of him. He swallowed half of it, then pulled himself together with an obvious effort.
"These men-Fredo Santini and Javier Gonzalez. They said they'd found Sands, but they wanted a CIA agent-me-to make the arrest, because he was CIA. They said I could be in charge. I thought... Everybody thinks Sands died on the Day of the Dead, in the coup, but they told me he'd just been hurt. That one of the cartel leaders had ripped his eyes out. I thought if I could take him in...they wouldn't think I'm so worthless. So I said okay. You and the other guy were always with him, so I found this girl..."
"It was a trap."
"Yeah. But...they weren't AFN. When we took him out to the car and she was there, and she told them to kill me and-"
"Wait, wait! 'She'?"
"His wife. Senora Ajedrez Sands."
El swore profanely in Spanish. "But you escaped."
"Yeah. He...he ran into Fredo and he told me to run and...I ran."
"You ran and you left him alone with those monsters."
"Well what else could I do? Stand there and get shot? His wife won't hurt him-"
"His so called 'wife' was one of those who took his eyes."
"Oh." Thomas turned even paler. For a moment, El thought the man would faint. "Oh god, what have I done."
"You may have signed my friend's death warrant." El lay the gun on the table. "Do you know where they would take him?"
He shook his head. "We had a motel room...we were using it as our base of operations. I checked there. I never met them anyplace else."
"Did you meet the woman before last night?"
"Yeah. She lived outside of town..."
"The Barillo Estate." That would be too easy.
"Yeah, but she said she'd sold it. She said she didn't need it anymore..." His voice trailed away. "They're really going to kill Jeff, aren't they?"
For a moment, El was taken aback. He had thought of the man as his friend and brother "Roberto" for so many weeks that he had forgotten Sands had another name.
"Aren't they?"
"Yes."
"That one guy...Fredo..." He suddenly looked as if he were going to cry. "He's...he wanted to hurt Jeff. I stopped him...mostly..."
"You are a fool, Senor Thomas." He picked up the gun and slid it back into his jacket.
"Can I...is there anything I can do..."
"I think you have done enough. Go home and tell your superiors that Agent Sands is truly dead. You have seen to that."
He heard the man call after him as he stalked from the bar, but he did not look back. He knew if he did, he would kill the man.
Survivors ~Melody Wilde
Part 10
Voices. One female, two male. Arguing. He heard his name and decided it was time to wake up a little and pay attention.
He had been thrown into the back seat of the car and was lying sprawled sideways, his head against someone's leg-probably Ajedrez. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but it was long enough for his body to be protesting at the awkward position.
"//We can't go back there. It's the first place anybody would look.//" Ajedrez.
"//And who's going to be looking for him? Thomas?//" Fredo snorted. "//The look on his face...he was about to piss himself.//"
"//Do you think you hit him?//" That was Javier, in the driver's seat.
"//I don't know. Maybe. It doesn't matter. He won't stop running until he gets to the U.S. border. And do you think he's going to talk-tell anybody what he did?//"
"//Please, Fredo. I don't want to go there.//"
It was nice to hear her not in control. His lips twitched slightly.
"//I'm telling you it's safe. Even if Thomas did talk to somebody, he wouldn't mention the house. He knows it's sold-he just doesn't know the new owners won't be there for another month. It's the best place. Anyway, where else would we go?//"
To hell. That would be good.
"//You're probably right, but...//" Her voice faltered. She sounded weaker than she had earlier. "//I don't want anything to go wrong this time.//"
"//Nothing will. We'll all spend a little quality time there tonight.//" Fredo gave a nasty chuckle. "//Then first thing in the morning I'll take care of the other one, just like we planned.//"
The other one? Who else were they pissed at? That gave this thing a whole new non-deja vu spin. Not necessarily a good one.
"//So, Sands, are you almost ready to wake up and play?//" Fredo had turned in the seat, reaching an arm back to jerk at his cuffed hands. He gave a low moan and then made himself go limp again.
"//Fredo, do you think...//" Javier again, his voice quieter, hesitant. "//Could I...perhaps...have some time alone with him tonight?//"
"//You want to fuck him, don't you? You filthy pervert!//"
Sands couldn't help himself. The disgust and righteous anger in Fredo's voice made him give an involuntary snort of laughter.
"//Good. You're awake.//"
No use pretending anymore. He struggled upward, still grinning. "Oh golly, this evening has certainly been a triumph for the scales of balance. Mike was more upset about his car than about murder. Now *you're* calling *Javier* a pervert. I can't wait to see what's next."
He heard an aborted movement from the front seat, then Fredo muttered, "//We'll be there soon enough, now that we can quit driving around in circles.//"
Okay, maybe he *could* wait after all. He leaned against the door and turned his head toward Ajedrez.
"It was stupid of me not to realize that you might have a cell phone."
"Yes, it was."
"So are we going to do this whole torture thing all over again? Back to the ranch, strap me to a chair, try to talk me to death, bring out the whips and chains, and so forth?"
"No. Not quite the same."
"Good. I hate reruns."
"We don't have as much time now. We'll have to be quicker."
"Quick and dirty. Just the way you used to fuck."
He felt her hand on his cheek and braced for a slap, but instead her fingers crept up to pull off his sunglasses. "You never used to complain. I bet you still wouldn't. You know, you'd be lucky to get the cheapest whore in Mexico to fuck you now, Sheldon." She laughed softly. "My father did a good job on you."
He didn't want to be reminded of that day, or to think of what was coming, so he decided to change the subject. "Why Mike?"
"Because I hate you."
He shook his head impatiently. "I know that. Why did you use *him*? Why all the subterfuge? Why didn't you and all your guys just come and grab me?"
"Because there are no 'guys'. Fredo and Javier are all I have left." Her voice had turned ugly. "You killed everybody else."
"Hey, babe-not me. It was..." And then he put the pieces together. El. That's who Fredo was going to take care of in the morning, after doing whatever it was that he planned to do to Sands. Knowing Fredo, it would be an execution-a shot from a rooftop or from an alley. And if he missed the first time, he could try again. They knew where to find El-the motel, the bar, home...
"Oh my Christ."
"You're learning, sugarbutt," she purred. "Know what? After he kills your friend, I'm going to let him go kill the woman and the boy too, just because I know it'll hurt you."
"Don't." The word came out of him before he could think.
"Don't? You mean you really *do* care? That you'd beg for their lives?"
Only an idiot would give her the pleasure of begging, especially since he knew in advance that it wouldn't do any good. Only a stupid desperate fuckmook.
"Yes. I'll beg. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt them. Please?"
She gave a trill of delight. "Yes, Sheldon, you *will* 'do anything'. And so will we."
The car turned left and he heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. He ground his teeth together to hold in a scream of rage and frustration.
"Almost there," Ajedrez murmured. Her hand slid away, taking the glasses.
He had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let them kill his friends. He had to get away somehow. Warn El. He shifted, moving his hands to the side, hoping Ajedrez wasn't watching as he searched for the door handle.
The car rolled to a stop. He jerked the handle up, then flung himself out. He was running even before he heard the sound of another door opening, going right so that he'd be heading down the side of the car and back the way they'd come. They'd gone straight after the turn. If he kept going straight, if he could outrun them, he could get to the road. He was in shape again. El had made sure of that.
Running footsteps behind him, two sets, one pounding, one lighter. But they weren't close. He could make it. He knew it must be dark so far from the city. If there was no moon...the dark didn't matter to him, but to them...
The heavier footsteps stopped. He realized what was happening and veered sharply to one side, then the other, even before he heard the first shot. Shit. Fucking hell. How much farther... His right leg buckled under him and he went down, rolling. There was no pain. The leg just refused to hold him when he tried to push himself back to his feet. He reached down frantically, trying to find out if he'd been hit.
Blood. And then the pain started, streaking upward through his body. And then he felt hands on his arms, dragging him roughly to his feet. He braced for a retaliatory blow.
"//Get him inside and stop the bleeding.//"
"Why thank you, Fredo. Gee, you're-"
"//She doesn't want you to die yet.//" He was transferred to another set of hands. "//Take him. I'll help the senorita//"
Javier didn't have Fredo's bulk, but he easily manhandled Sands back down the driveway and up the steps, hauling him up when he stumbled and shoving him forward when he faltered. He wondered why they were moving so quickly, then realized he must be bleeding more badly than he'd thought.
"//Inside.//"
Javier sounded short of breath. He guided Sands through the doorway and forward. "//Across here. Down the hall.//"
"Sorry, but you'll have to do the driving. I can't see where I'm going. No eyes." He tried to turn his head to let the other man see the empty sockets, but Javier pushed him onward. His shoulder slammed into the next doorframe. "And you're a *lousy* driver," he muttered.
"//Here.//"
A door closed behind them. His knees bumped into something and then he went down, face first, onto a bed. "What..." And then he knew.
"//You will be silent.//" He felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against his neck, felt Javier's body settling onto the bed to cover his.
"//Your boss and her little friend are going to be pissed if you kill me.//"
"//I don't have to kill you. I can knock you unconscious instead. But I would prefer to have you awake.//"
"//Fredo isn't going to like this either, you know.//"
"//Fredo has his sicknesses and I have mine. Now be quiet.//"
"Oh fuck," he muttered as a hand moved roughly down his side.
"Si," Javier whispered.
* * *
As usual, Lorenzo came sauntering in fifteen minutes before check-out time, looking as fresh as if he'd spent the night in sound sleep instead of entertaining the pair of young women he'd taken away from the bar.
"//Good morning.//" He picked up his bag and began to toss his things in. He lifted his eyebrows in question. "//How was the night?//"
"//He's not back yet.//"
"//It went well then.//" Lorenzo grinned.
"//He's not back,//" El repeated, glowering.
Lorenzo's good humor faded. He glanced around the room as if to verify that El hadn't just overlooked their friend, then shrugged.
"//So? Give him a break. It's probably been a while for him. Let him enjoy himself without worrying over him like his chaperone.//"
"//What if something happened to him?//"
"//He's a big boy, you know.//"
"//And he's blind.//"
"//Even blind men need to...//" Lorenzo made a rude gesture.
"//Do you want to be the one to go back to Mamacita and tell her that we lost her boy?//"
All traces of the smile faded from Lorenzo's face at that. "//Do you want to start with the bartender?//"
El rose, slipping his gun inside his jacket. "//You stay here. Pay them for another night, just in case. I'll go to the bar and find out where the woman lives.//"
"//You realize he's going to be really pissed if you burst in and interrupt them.//"
El shook his head. He had begun to have a bad feeling about this when he had woken to find that Sands had not returned. "//I'm willing to take the chance.//"
* * *
He hadn't expected the bar to be open this early, but the door was ajar, even though the sign still read "Closed." He pushed it open and stepped cautiously into the room. It was quieter than the night before, and cleaner. A man in a white apron stood behind the counter, arranging the liquor bottles for the day's trade. A man in a rumpled dark suit sat at one of the tables, a line of beer mugs before him.
"//We're closed,//" Apron said.
El gestured. "//What about him? You're serving him.//"
"//I can't fucking get *rid* of him. Not without calling the police. And he *is* police, so what good would that do?//"
The man at the table looked up, squinting at El, then muttered blearily, "You."
An American. Late 30's, beginning to go to fat, blond hair cut short and obviously combed conservatively before his drinking binge. El moved to drop into a chair across from the man. "Yes. Me."
"The bodyguard. Look, I didn't mean to... It was a mistake. I...oh Jesus God I fucked up." He folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them. "They're going to have my badge for this, if they don't send me to prison."
"You are CIA?"
His head moved once.
"What is your name?"
"Mike Thomas. I was...oh shit."
El gestured toward the bartender. "Coffee."
"I told you..."
El gave him a Look, and the man hurried to put on a pot. He turned back to Thomas. "What is it that you have done, Senor Thomas?"
"You have to understand." He lifted bleary eyes to stare at El. "It's just...it was my big chance. He always got everything-the grades, the girls, the assignments-and I never... I didn't mean to. I didn't even know the car was him. I swear."
El took a deep breath and put on his most patient expression. "Start at the beginning."
"I saved for two years for that car and-"
"Not..." He held up a hand for silence. "...that far back. Has something happened to my friend?"
"Sands never had any friends."
"He does now," El said flatly. "What have you done to him?"
"Nothing! I swear. It wasn't my fault. I didn't know."
"Where is he then?"
"I don't know. They took him. I was lucky to get away. They wanted to kill me. If he hadn't fallen when he did..."
El decided he was through being patient. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled his pistol and pointed it at the agent's head. Thomas went white.
"I didn't mean to!" he wailed.
"And I will not mean to pull the trigger, but you will still be in pain. Now, Senor Thomas, start at the beginning and tell me what has happened to Agent Sands."
Thomas swallowed hard and reached for a half-full mug of beer. El's arm shot out and knocked it off the table. "Talk!" he snapped.
"These...these two AFN agents contacted me. I mean...they said they were AFN. They said their agency wanted me to work with them to bring in a killer...a rogue CIA agent."
"Sands."
"Yeah. They said....a woman had called them two months before. Sands' wife."
"His *wife*?" El's eyes narrowed.
"She...she said she was his wife. That he'd killed five men...one of them was an AFN agent. They said they'd been looking for him, to arrest him, but..." He looked longingly at the bar. "Can't I have a-"
El slammed his hand down on the table. His voice was cold with fear for Sands. "You need to start talking more quickly and making more sense with your story, Senor Thomas, before I become angry."
"They almost killed me!"
"And if they kill my friend, *I* will kill you. And it will be slow and painful. Now tell me."
Terror did more to sober him than the cup of coffee the bartender set in front of him. He swallowed half of it, then pulled himself together with an obvious effort.
"These men-Fredo Santini and Javier Gonzalez. They said they'd found Sands, but they wanted a CIA agent-me-to make the arrest, because he was CIA. They said I could be in charge. I thought... Everybody thinks Sands died on the Day of the Dead, in the coup, but they told me he'd just been hurt. That one of the cartel leaders had ripped his eyes out. I thought if I could take him in...they wouldn't think I'm so worthless. So I said okay. You and the other guy were always with him, so I found this girl..."
"It was a trap."
"Yeah. But...they weren't AFN. When we took him out to the car and she was there, and she told them to kill me and-"
"Wait, wait! 'She'?"
"His wife. Senora Ajedrez Sands."
El swore profanely in Spanish. "But you escaped."
"Yeah. He...he ran into Fredo and he told me to run and...I ran."
"You ran and you left him alone with those monsters."
"Well what else could I do? Stand there and get shot? His wife won't hurt him-"
"His so called 'wife' was one of those who took his eyes."
"Oh." Thomas turned even paler. For a moment, El thought the man would faint. "Oh god, what have I done."
"You may have signed my friend's death warrant." El lay the gun on the table. "Do you know where they would take him?"
He shook his head. "We had a motel room...we were using it as our base of operations. I checked there. I never met them anyplace else."
"Did you meet the woman before last night?"
"Yeah. She lived outside of town..."
"The Barillo Estate." That would be too easy.
"Yeah, but she said she'd sold it. She said she didn't need it anymore..." His voice trailed away. "They're really going to kill Jeff, aren't they?"
For a moment, El was taken aback. He had thought of the man as his friend and brother "Roberto" for so many weeks that he had forgotten Sands had another name.
"Aren't they?"
"Yes."
"That one guy...Fredo..." He suddenly looked as if he were going to cry. "He's...he wanted to hurt Jeff. I stopped him...mostly..."
"You are a fool, Senor Thomas." He picked up the gun and slid it back into his jacket.
"Can I...is there anything I can do..."
"I think you have done enough. Go home and tell your superiors that Agent Sands is truly dead. You have seen to that."
He heard the man call after him as he stalked from the bar, but he did not look back. He knew if he did, he would kill the man.