10. / Deadly Business

The American has finished his meal. He sips his tequila, occasionally taking the lime from the rim of the tumbler and biting into it. A swallow of tequila, a nibble of fruit - he glances up, silver lenses flashing as they approach the table. "Well?" he drawls. "You two get everything straightened out?"

"I'll take the boy," Manito says in a harsh tone, without looking at Sands. "As insurance for correct behavior."

This seems to satisfy him. "Good," he says. "Now tell me, Lisiado--what are you planning to do to resurrect this operation? Because I'll tell you right now, there are certain things I'm not going to allow. For starters--"

As the alleged CIA man begins to outline his terms to Lisiado, the door to the restaurant swings inward, and in steps Esteban. Lisiado jumps to his feet, but before he can move, the sound of a gun slide being worked roots him where he stands. He waves briefly to the young man, and looks at his companions. "That's Esteban," he explains. "God knows what he's doing here, or how he found me, but that's him."

The youngest Gomez brother approaches the table, glancing from Lisiado to the unfamiliar men with him. "Is everything okay?" he asks hesitantly. "Philomena told me you needed my help."

"No, that's not what I told her," replies Lisiado with exaggerated patience. There's a buzzing in his ears, the adrenalin making his words sound distant. All he needs now is for the rest of his little flock to wander in here; Philomena would start screaming, Marisol would demand to be taken to the mean-looking American woman, and he doesn't want to imagine Sands's reaction to the sight of Ché beside his uncle. That would give everything away. "For god's sake, Esteban, go make sure they stay put!"

"What are you talking about?" Esteban looks puzzled. "Of course they're staying put, I told Philomena before I left to sit tight and I'd call her when I found you."

The buzzing becomes a shrill whine and Lisiado wants to grab the boy by the scruff of his neck and shake him. "You left them there alone? With night coming?" he roars. "Are you out of your fucking mind? I told you, we have enemies! What were you thinking?" Esteban's baby-faced bewilderment only intensifies Lisiado's anger. The rage pumping through his veins is invigorating. He's about to command the boy back to the hacienda, when Sands clears his throat.

"Were you planning to introduce us?" the American asks blandly.

Lisiado's fury ebbs enough for him to recall the gun Manito has dangling by his side, not so obvious that Esteban would notice it casually - as if the young fool has that much savvy - ready to be about the business of killing at an instant's notice. "Esteban, this is Señor Sands," he grates. "He controls Culiacan, and we will be working with him."

"Howdy," says Sands, ignoring the hand Esteban tentatively extends and gesturing to Manito. "My associate, El Mariachi."

Esteban's eyes grow even rounder, and this time, he doesn't offer his hand. He has grown up hearing tales of the deadly guitar-fighter and the terror on his face is almost comical. He fixes his gaze on Lisiado. "What are we going to tell Ernesto?"

The boy isn't completely estupido. As he's about to explain the principle. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", his cell phone rings, and Lisiado says one of the words he tries not to use around Ché. "This really isn't a good time," he says impatiently at the sound of his wife's voice.

"But Cesar - Nestor is dead."

He goes cold suddenly. "Say that again?"

"Nestor is dead." Her voice is pitched low and he hears the stress in her tone. "No one's told me about it yet. I heard Ernesto talking to Ramirez. He said someone called him from the prison this morning."

"Jesus." He thinks quickly. "I'll call you back in a little while on your cell phone."

"I'm on my cell now, I didn't want to use the house phones in case someone listened in."

"Good girl. Sit tight, don't let him know you know." As soon as he hangs up, he looks at Esteban. "When did you last talk to Ernesto?"

"Yesterday morning, when we left to come here. What's going on, Lisiado?"

"That was Dolores. This morning, Ernesto got word that your father is dead."

"Papa...? And Ernesto didn't tell me?" Esteban looks even younger then, like a hurt child about to weep.

"That's not good," observes Sands, leaning back in his chair.

Lisiado thinks of the missing men who are out there somewhere. Are those dozen men deserters, or turncoats? Dialing his own phone, he wishes he knew. "Philomena - yes, we're both fine," he interrupts the housekeeper."Here's what I need you to do - this is no time for questions! Bring the children and meet me at - no - no! Don't worry about him, worry about me! Get yourselves out of the hacienda fast, do you understand? Now, right now! Meet me as close as you can to where we were parked earlier." He's grinding his teeth as he hangs up. "If that old woman screws this up, I guarantee she won't get any older," he growls. Esteban regards him with wide-eyed concernation. Manito's expression is hostile. Only Sands seems to be at ease.

"We've got to talk to Ernesto," says Esteban. "Maybe there's a reason he hasn't called us. Maybe Dolores is wrong, or, or - maybe it's not really Papa."

"What a fairy tale!" snaps Lisiado. He remembers what Dolores said last night about Ramirez's movements. No doubt he was busy arranging Nestor's killing. A bribe to the right inmate - or even a guard - and one sixty-eight year-old man wouldn't last an hour. "I'm going to Guadalajara - "

"I'm going with you! They're my family!"

"No, you're staying right here, you young idiot!"

Sands whistles through his fingers, a piercing sound that rings out shrilly in the nearly empty room. "Hold it!" he says sharply. "Let's have a plan here, people. Look, your friend's right, kid," says Sands emphatically before the youngest Gomez brother can contradict him. "If they haven't told you about something this big, they've already written you off. If Ernesto gets you both, he wins." The American shakes his head. "How the hell did I wind up as the voice of reason? Jesus, this is a sad day."

"I'm going to go talk to Ernesto," says Lisiado grimly, "and get my wife the hell out of there. He didn't tell her, either."