Chapter 14: Light Fare Sorry for the delay. Life has a few twists.

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the old tow truck as it bounced along the bad roads of the back country leading out from the center of town. His window was down as the AC was not working and the heat humidity and bugs entered the cab of the truck at will. He tortured through the Spanish conversation of Pablo the driver as his Spanish was less than perfect. He hated South America and he had good reason to do so.

After several gut wrenching holes, the truck finally pulled up next to the jeep. It was still intact and Sam was pleasantly surprised since he had spent several years in and around the Miami area. An abandoned car wouldn't have lasted this long in downtown Miami. He had a picture of a vehicle up on blocks in his mind.

Pablo went to work on the engine; opening it up, pushing on this and that, trying the keys in the ignition before pronouncing it dead. Sam on the other hand believed this time was a waste, better spent looking for his friend Mike. When the vehicle was hooked up to the back of the tow truck, Sam again ventured into his Spanish to ask for directions. It was difficult, at best, but Pablo had been given specific instructions from the young woman in the lobby of the hotel. He was to retrieve the car, the hotel's property and then the hotels guest that had been trapped out there over night.

Pablo drove the vehicle a few hundred yards down the road from where the broke down vehicle had been and turned onto what looked like an overgrown forest. Sam soon realized that it opened out to a courtyard and then a spectacular home surrounded by lush gardens and tropical flowers.

"Aqui es su amigo." Pablo said.

Sam smiled understanding everything he was saying, which wasn't much.

Sam stepped from the truck and asked Pablo to wait.

"Espera por favor." Sam said in his broken Spanish and even worse accent.

The man smiled.

Sam knocked on the front door several times as the thick weathered wood showed him the magnificence of the house. Its deep rich texture and hand-crafted hardware were a treat to look at.

"You know good stuff when you see it Mikey." He said to himself as he waited for someone to answer.

When no one did, he began to walk around the grounds

Sam could only hear the birds in the trees as he rounded the corner of the home on his way to the back looking for windows into the soul of the building. He wondered what it would tell him and what he would find.

Sweat tricked down his back from the heat and humidity that hung in the air. It was thick and today would be brutal. At the back he found an entrance to the kitchen and the interior beauty of this country estate. The door was ajar and swung easily open. Sam paused for a moment before entering. He knew the Bolivian people were friendly, but even they would have a problem with a stranger just entering.

"Hello, hello," he began. "Is anybody home? I am looking for Michael. MIKE, MIKE can you hear me? Still, nothing.

Cautiously he moved forward into the dark wood of the room and the delicate carvings. "Mike, are you in here?" Sam said again and getting no reply. "HELLLLLOOOOOOO" he yelled as loud as he could just as he heard a loud click in the room just ahead of him. "Crap, that better not be a gun!" he whispered to himself.

"Hello. I am looking for my amigo, Mi amigo, su ayudas." He said in poor Spanish. The click turned to foot steps coming at him quick. Sam looked around in case he needed to get away fast. Except for the island in the center of the kitchen and heading back out the door, he was out of luck.

The foot steps reached the door as Sam strained his eyes in the dim interior and reached behind him to place his fingers around the Glock at the back of his pants.

"Your amigo no esta aqui." Said the voice." He no here." The voice said it rounded the corner.

Sam was relieved to see the tow truck driver standing in front of him. "Are we are at the right house?" He asked.

"Si, este es la casa, pero no esta aqui."

Sam understood. This was the right house, but he wasn't here. "OK, where? Donde?" Sam asked.

A small boy of maybe 10 or 12 appeared behind the driver. "They took him, just a few hours ago."

Sam swallowed hard. "Who took him?"

The boy looked up, sadness filled his face. "The Cartel."

Sam took a step back and looked at the boy. He could tell if someone was lying, he was good at it, he was telling the truth. "Why?"

Fi placed the fork on plate and gently wiped her mouth with the soft linen napkin that had been on her lap as a young man removed her plate and a second asked it she would like her wine refilled. She declined. Two was her limit for business, and this was after all business. At least she thought. Not was not quite sure of what to make of a truck filled with coffee from one of the largest drug lords in the southern hemisphere.

"Did you enjoy your meal?" Manuela asked.

"Yes, thank you. It was fabulous." Giving Jesse a glare as he continued to eat while the other plates were being cleared.

Manuela watched him eat. "It looks like you both enjoyed it, Yes?" he said loudly slapping Jesse on the back.

Jesse looked up to realize that he was being rude and stopped eating. He had forgotten how hungry he was. Fi's call last night had interrupted his dinner plans and with arraignments and excitement this morning, he had not eaten in a while and the meal was excellent. A far cry from Madeline's pot pie. "Yes, thank you. Forgive my manners." He began. It was too good not to finish."

"I am glad you liked it." Manuela said. "Shall we get down to business?

" I understand you are in need of a little light weight product and possibly for something even a little…stronger." Fi knew with recording devices and satellites that could watch you in the bath, she knew to be careful with her conversation.

Manuela smiled, he knew the dance. "I am afraid I have brought you here under false pretenses."

The hair on the back of Jesse's neck stood on end. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked you to come because I have heard rumors that you work very closely with Michael Westen, is this true?" He said directly at Fi.

"It is, Michael and I are friends and he will be sorry he wasn't feeling up to this meeting." "My intention was to have you come and bring him."

"Why?" Jesse inquired quickly, but not before Fi shot him a look. Drug lords did not like impatience.

"Why indeed!" The man sat back and lifted his glass. " I am afraid I do not need any product at this time, but your Mr. Weston has a habit of getting a job done while others around him fail."

Fi looked at the man as he sipped his wine and glanced at Jesse. "You want to hire us?" She said shocked by this mans response.

"I do, my son-in-law has been taken and I need you to find him."

"Your son-in-law?" Jesse said, nearly spitting out the words.

"He was taken by the man that has taken over my prior business. It is his way of sending me a message. A message to get out!"