Читать книгу Birds of a Feather - Don Easton - Страница 13

Early Tuesday afternoon in El Paso, Texas, a green Mercedes pulled into the parking lot of the Red Poker Saloon.

Adams sat upright from behind the steering wheel of his Celica and focused his binoculars. He caught a glimpse of the small, white scrape over the right rear fender of the Mercedes as it turned into a parking stall.

He immediately started his car and sped through the parking lot, stopping behind the Mercedes as Chico was walking away from his car.

Adams leaped from his car and yelled, “Hey, Chico!”

Chico turned and said, “Do I know you?”

“You’re about to!” replied Adams, flashing his badge with one hand while pointing a pistol at Chico’s head. “Immigration! Put your hands on the hood of your car!”

Chico slowly obeyed, but as Adams approached him, three men pulled up in another car and stopped nose-to-nose with Adams’s car. The driver had his window down and yelled Chico’s name. Chico kept his hands on the hood of the car, but yelled back.

“No talking, asshole!” ordered Adams, while putting his badge away and taking out his handcuffs.

“I just told them you were with Immigration,” explained Chico. “There is a mistake. I am not an illegal. I have my green card.”

The three men got out of their car so Adams pointed his pistol in their direction and said, “You guys want to be next? Back off!”

The three men stopped, but stood where they were and whispered amongst themselves as Adams searched Chico and removed a loaded pistol from his waistband.

“I have a permit to carry a concealed handgun,” said Chico.

“I’m sure you do,” replied Adams. “Your three friends probably do, too, so tell them if they come any closer I will shoot them.”

Chico yelled over to the three men and they all looked at each other and took a couple of steps back as Adams handcuffed Chico’s hands behind his back. He then grabbed the man by the arm and herded him over to his Celica and placed him in the back seat and did up the seatbelt.

“You do not even ask to see my green card?” sputtered Chico.

“Not interested in your fucking green card or your gun permit.”

“So if you are not arresting me for being an illegal,” Chico stared at Adams. “You are, you are…”

“That’s right, asshole. Greg Patton was my partner!”

Chico yelled in Spanish at the three men as Adams slammed the door and returned to the driver’s seat where he put the car in reverse and backed up to the end of the row to turn around. The three men scrambled back in their car and sped toward them, but came to a screeching stop when Adams lowered his window and pointed his pistol at the driver. Seconds later, he was out of the lot and speeding away.

“You can prove nothing,” said Chico, when Adams stopped at a red light.

Their eyes met in his rear-view mirror and Adams said, “You were the bait car the other morning. You knew a Mercedes would attract our attention. You waited until my partner came by and then set him up to follow you.”

“The other morning?” said Chico sarcastically. “I do remember some car behind me. I think the Mexican police thought he was up to no good and stopped him for questioning. That is all I know. You can prove nothing with me.”

“I know what you did.”

Chico smiled and said, “Knowing and proving, señor, are very different matters.”

“I am not interested in proving it, Chico. Pay attention to where I am turning. We are going out into the desert.”

Chico uttered a laugh from the back seat.

“Something funny, Chico?” asked Adam.

Chico sneered at him and said, “You can’t touch me. I told my men who you are. If anything happens … there are witnesses who can identify you.”

“They’re probably pimps and dope dealers. Who is going to believe them?”

“There were other cars in the lot. Other witnesses. I know you saw them. So did I.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” replied Adams. “You are going to give your bosses a message.”

“What bosses?”

“All of them. Including your top boss … Rafael Guajardo.”

“Rafael Guajardo? I have never even spoken with Señor Guajardo. I have nothing to do with him … although I know him to be a respected businessman and someone who people look up to and admire.”

“Yeah, you probably are too much of a peon to talk to him. Perhaps you only deal with the Carrillo Fuentes brothers. It doesn’t matter. Guajardo will get the message.”

“And what message am I supposed to tell them?” asked Chico scornfully. “That you don’t like what happened?”

“There will be no need for you to say anything,” replied Adams.

Adams drove for an hour out into the desert. By then, Chico had long since stopped laughing.