Devil's Mark. Don Pendleton

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      Smiley threw one out blind. “He’s associated with the Justice Department.”

      “Ah.” Villaluz looked Bolan up and down again. “May I ask in what capacity?”

      “I was called in to facilitate the transfer of Cuauhtemoc Nigris into U.S. custody,” Bolan said.

      A lot of rejoinders clearly occurred to Inspector Villaluz, but he kept it simple. “And?”

      Bolan didn’t bat an eye. “I failed.”

      It wasn’t the obfuscation Villaluz had expected. “I see.”

      “Three of the Barbacoa Four died in Mexican custody,” Bolan continued. “The fourth died in mine. You and I need to talk.”

      “Yes, I believe I would like that very much. Agent Smiley, I gather you want to stay close to Agente LeCaesar?”

      “At least until some backup arrives. I owe him, and he made enemies tonight.”

      “Well, I will tell you, the food for the yanqui visitors in the cafeteria here is bad and the coffee is worse. The staff cafeteria is much better. I know many of the doctors and staff here. I will see about getting us something decent to eat. It is Sunday morning, I suspect they will have menudo.”

      They followed the inspector to the elevator and went up four floors. Villaluz spoke a few words to a nurse and took over a medical conference room covered with Aztec murals. Within moments steaming bowls of tripe soup, baskets of tortillas and urns of coffee appeared. Smiley tucked in like a she-hyena with manners. Bolan took her hunger as a good sign. They shared a few moments of quiet save for table noises. Out of pride Villaluz wouldn’t bring even a despised guest to someplace he wouldn’t eat in himself.

      Villaluz regarded Bolan with hospitable suspicion. “You like menudo, señor?”

      “You have to look for it in the United States, and look just as hard to find a good bowl.”

      “Ah.” Villaluz had no problem believing one couldn’t get decent menudo in the United States. “You prefer the broth red or green?”

      Villaluz was playing chess. Bolan swiped a tortilla through his soup and wolfed it down. “Clear.”

      “Ah.” The inspector nodded at the wisdom of the statement. “Simple is best.”

      “Inspector, I’m very concerned that the cartel knew our route.”

      “I am very concerned about that, as well.” Villaluz let some reproach creep into his voice. “However, I was not consulted on Señor Nigris’s extradition.”

      “I concede the point, and it’s regrettable,” Bolan said. “However, three of the Barbacoa Four died in Mexican federal custody. We only came in after Señor Nigris demanded extradition to the U.S. in exchange for his testimony.”

      “Yes.” Villaluz eyed Bolan archly. “You acceded to the request of a known cannibal.”

      “Actually it was your Federal Investigation Agency that acceded to his request.”

      Villaluz’s face soured. “I concede that point, and I assure you I find it regrettable as well.”

      “Inspector, I believe you and I are on the same side.”

      “No, actually you are both from the northern side.”

      Bolan sighed inwardly as he sought a way to salvage the situation. “You come with a very high reputation, Inspector Villaluz.”

      “Thank you.” The inspector accepted the compliment, but it didn’t seem to engender any sense of obligation on his part. “However, I am afraid I do not even know your name.”

      Bolan nodded toward Smiley and shook his head. “Neither does she.”

      Smiley shrugged helplessly. “It’s true.”

      The inspector was momentarily caught off guard.

      “But you can call me Cooper,” Bolan said.

      “Very well. Let me be direct. I believe you are some sort of yanqui paramilitary, Señor Cooper. A specialist, brought in to help bring in Cuah Nigris alive. But by your own admission you have failed. Your mission is over, and I think it would be best if you filed your after-action report in the United States, or at the CIA station in Mexico City if you must remain within our borders. But I believe you will find that you have worn out your welcome in Tijuana. I think you must be a brave man, and skilled, but my superiors are not pleased with this evening’s activity, and to be honest, neither am I.”

      “I can see how you might feel that way, Inspector. So let me be equally frank. An international DEA counternarcotics operation got compromised in the worst way possible. Our informant is dead, and so are eight veteran agents. As far as I’m concerned, my mission has just begun.”

      Villaluz’s color began to rise. “Señor Cooper, you—”

      Bolan threw his changeup. “However, as I said, you come with a very high reputation, and I realize we took over your operation, over your objections, and we dropped the ball. Fact is you walk heavy on the streets of Tijuana. I’m a yanqui of unknown origin, and you must suspect I have access to assets and resources you don’t, and vice versa. I suggest we pool them.”

      Villaluz leaned back in his chair, remeasuring Bolan. “An intriguing offer, but I am not sure my superiors would approve.”

      “Then don’t tell them.”

      Villaluz blinked.

      Bolan pulled out a business card with nothing but a number on it. “They don’t have to know. But if you call that number, you’ll have access to all the resources I can provide toward the case of Cuah, whether I’m removed from the situation or not.”

      Villaluz took the card and stared at it warily. “My own…secret Uncle Sam?”

      “Something like that.” Bolan nodded. “Can I ask you a question?”

      “Of course.” Villaluz tucked the card away. “You may ask.”

      “Is my leaving town a suggestion or an order?”

      The inspector considered. “It’s a suggestion, for now, but do not expect much in the way of cooperation with the state or local authorities here in Tijuana.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “Let me say—” Villaluz frowned as his cell rang. “Forgive me.”

      Bolan watched the inspector’s face as he took the call. He said very little, and Bolan could tell by Villaluz’s body language it wasn’t good news.

      “You need some privacy?”

      “No, thank you.” The inspector thanked his caller and clicked his phone shut. “As you know, any good policeman has his own intelligence network.”

      “Of course.”

      “I, СКАЧАТЬ