"Señor West, you look much better, but . . . ."

Jim frowned and wrinkled his nose again. He couldn't blame Tequila for keeping her distance, verbally or physically. In spite of the need for disguise, he had nearly scrubbed his skin raw when afforded the luxury of Tequila's washroom and had changed into some raggedy Mexican peasant clothes Tequila produced. The bum's stinking rags were now deposited in a tightly-lidded tin can. He was, as Tequila said, back to looking more like his handsome self, but as for the smell . . . .

"I know, I know," he groaned. He was clean, he felt clean. Yet the stench, even if reduced in potency, still clung to him like a second skin. There would be no seduction of Tequila, or any other woman, until Arte's concoction wore off. It would wear off – Jim was confident of that – and he definitely knew who the real stinker was. But there would be no getting back at his partner until after they got back to the states with Dr. Loveless. In the meantime, while Jim had been seeing to his ablutions, Tequila filled him in as best she could on Loveless' large and dangerous cousin.

It seemed that Hector el Tigre was indeed close kin to Miguelito. He was – according to Tequila's sources – the bastard offspring of a disgraced younger brother to Miguelito's mother by yet another cousin of the family. Both the younger brother and his pregnant 'kissing cousin' had been disinherited by their grandfather, leaving Miguelito the official titular heir to his family's dubious California claim. This, in spite of Miguelito's obvious physical – Jim couldn't help it – shortcomings, had left the Tiger with a mountain-sized grudge. Only Dr. Loveless' own mountain-sized ego could have persuaded him that seeking such an ally/vassal would be a good idea. Jim would have seen el Tigre's response coming a mile away. Loveless had not. Now the Tiger had a mad mouse in its jaws – and who could say that the Tiger wasn't mad also? Tequila had a photograph of Hector el Tigre that not only showed a startling family resemblance, but a not-quite-sane gleam in the eyes that Jim recognized all too well. He had seen that same gleam in many other pairs of enemy eyes.

"I would not doubt it, Señor," Tequila said when Jim raised the possibility. "Men do many mad things in pursuit of honor or power. El Tigre wants both. Power he has, and riches too. But not honor. His cousin that you seek has that."

Jim found it difficult to associate Dr. Miguelito Loveless with anything that could be considered honor. Anyone who would attempt to kill countless innocent people for his mad ends, or who would casually murder his own loyal employees as Loveless had done, didn't seem to be deserving of any honorific. Still, the solution to el Tigre's problem should have been frightfully simple.

"Why hasn't he killed Loveless then? Wouldn't that make el Tigre the sole claimant?"

Tequila shook her head.

"It could not make him a legitimate claimant, Señor West. Nothing can change the condition of his birth, or the condition of his parents who were disinherited. He could still attempt to take his cousin's place by force, si, but that is the path of the pirate, of a man without honor."

"So he expects Loveless to change that for him somehow?"

"Si. He will want your Dr. Loveless to formally recognize him as family, as his kin. This would give el Tigre the honor he seeks."

"And no rationale to keep Miguelito alive after that." Oh, this wasn't a pretty picture shaping up at all – and he sure as hell isn't 'my' doctor! Jim thought fiercely. "Let me guess. It also wouldn't count if he just tortured or threatened Loveless into accepting him as an heir. Because that wouldn't be an act of honor, of course." Yes, it was one nasty Mexican standoff all right. Loveless as a fugitive must have thought he could get his wealthy, honor-hungry cousin to serve him and provide him with resources by waving an empty promise of recognition in Hector's face. But el Tigre hadn't been a gullible fool like so many of Loveless' other henchies and associates. He might have a powerful intellect to match his cousin's, plus an equally strong will to boot. If anything, here on his own home base he would want Loveless to kowtow to him, not the other way around, which egomaniacal Loveless would never do, of course. So both men were caught on the horns of a major family dilemma, with neither willing to give an inch to the other, but with the strategic advantage in the Tiger's court for the moment. "They sound like they deserve each other."

"Do they, Señor?" Tequila asked, shaking her head again. "I know little of this Dr. Loveless, who has not lived here in many years, only of Hector el Tigre, and he is a monster." She waved her hand around the taberna's back room in a gesture to indicate their outside surroundings. "Santa Bonita used to be a happy village, but not now. To get what he wants, el Tigre will consume and destroy all."

"Loveless is no better," Jim told her. "In fact, I'd say he's worse, but that's just my experience of him. He's a scientific genius whose ambitions no longer stop at the California borderline, if they ever did. He'd crush the whole world under his foot if given the chance."

"Then why not leave him to his fate? Why can we not let them destroy each other?" Anger lit up Tequila's eyes and she curled her lips in challenge. Jim would have loved to uncurl those lips in his own preferred method if not for his smell, and yes, there was a certain temptation to the prospect of ridding the world of Dr. Miguelito Loveless once and for all. Tequila couldn't be entrusted with the full purpose behind their present mission – no one must know about that. But there was an even more potent argument to be made with her.

"We can't take the chance that Loveless and el Tigre will somehow make amends and become allies after all," he said. "Can you imagine what might happen if the two of them teamed up? What might happen to anything or anyone who got in their way?"

Tequila shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Si, Señor West. I have seen what el Tigre alone is capable of and I have . . . a good imagination." She nodded. "It is as you say. I will help you in this quest of yours, and not just because Enrique and Rita asked me to."

Tequila wasn't the only one to fear such a possibility. Perhaps this mission was necessary for more than the saving of a U.S. President. Preventing a criminal super-alliance was on Jim's mind as well. Curse it or not, the disguise Arte made for him had worked so far. He hoped his partner had managed to avoid trouble as well, because if there was one bargaining chip Hector might be able to hold out to get what he wanted from Loveless, Jim knew what it was.

Us.

Miguelito craved revenge like Hector craved honor. Jim hoped el Tigre didn't know that – not that the two Secret Service agents planned to get captured.

"Are there other people in Santa Bonita who will be willing to help us?" he asked.

"Si. We are not all cowards here. But the people must see you act first. Enrique has told me that you and Señor Gordon can work miracles, and Rita says this is true also. Others have promised us miracles and have not delivered them. We wish no more martyrs."

"I don't intend to be one or let any of your people become that either. But we may need to create a diversion once we've grabbed Loveless."

They would need more than that, Jim realized, taking in Tequila's gaze and her talk of non-existent miracles and existent martyrs. She and the villagers of Santa Bonita needed something more than just their original mission. It wasn't enough for them to simply snatch Loveless from his cousin and beat a hasty exit back to California. An enraged Tiger could take his fury out on the local populace if they did that. Jim hadn't come down here with the intention of fomenting mini-revolutions against Mexican warlords, but no way was he going to leave behind a large number of easy, innocent targets in his wake. He and Arte would have to find a way to take out as much of el Tigre's arsenal and private army as possible, and take Hector down several pegs as well. Otherwise there would be martyrs all right. If they made an impressive enough show of it, though, they might get the oft-disorganized Mexican Army to move in and arrest el Tigre. Enrique had been promoted since the tangle with Thorvald Wolf. Perhaps he could help with that.

In the meantime, Jim began getting an idea – a beautiful, terrible, wonderful idea . . . . A very Jim West idea.

"Tequila," he said, "I know you have access to the piñata factory. I'm going to need piñatas – a lot of them . . . ."