City of the Sun

FORTY-ONE

Ponceterra’s Eldorado moved through the gate in a dust cloud of its own making. Paco had swung the gate back into place behind him by the time he ’ d gotten out of his car. Ponceterra regarded the air of the compound. Is something different today? he wondered.

“Buenas tardes, patrуn,” Paco said.

Ponceterra ignored him and moved toward the main house, his mind occupied with two things: whether or not Esteban had been successful and the rubio. He had been limiting his visits, staying away so as not to push him too hard, but considered if he should look in on him today. Perhaps all the waiting and careful cajoling would finally cause the boy to yield. And then he thought of Esteban ’ s project: the gueros. Were they merely new customers or could they be trouble? His people were armed with meticulous instructions for avoiding the wrong kinds of clients. And they knew the punishment for failing to follow said instructions was utterly severe.

Suddenly Don Ramon stopped. Why not be safe and make a new password today? He called out to Paco, “ Hay una nueva contraseсa hoy

…” Then he quietly spoke it. “Let them know in town.”

“ Sн, jefe. ” Paco nodded.

Don Ramon entered the main house. The lights were off and all was quiet, as it would be for at least two more hours. Fat Miguel jumped up from a sofa, his magazine falling to the floor, at Don Ramon ’ s arrival.

“Esteban?” Don Ramon demanded.

“Oficina.” Miguel bent and picked up his magazine.

Ponceterra swung the office door open to find Esteban in the middle of his work on the young man from town. The man was slumped on the floor, wedged against the wall in a heap, his head hanging forward, hair and face a mess of sweat and blood. Esteban turned, the look on his face that of a patient butcher.

“їQuй pasу? ” Ponceterra asked.

“Un ratito.”

Four men on the premises had always been enough. Management of the working boys was simple, and no customer had ever given any trouble. Then of course there were the dogs. But seeing the violence in front of him made him wonder.

“ Todos saben — ” he began, asking whether the guards knew to be vigilant.

“Sн, patrуn.” Esteban quarter turned, ready to go back to his work.

Ponceterra could see that Esteban had everything in hand. The policнa would stay far away, as arranged, and on the off chance the men who had been inquiring found the rancho, his security was well ready for them. Beyond that he knew that Esteban would learn who these men were, even if they never came, and he would hunt them down. Esteban would follow their trail over road, over river and rocky ground, and even across borders, until he killed them in their own beds if Don Ramon so ordered it. He nodded for Esteban to continue and closed the door. He would wait at the rancho until Esteban was done, but he felt the pull from the room down the hall. Perhaps just a short visit, some quiet time together, he thought, since I ’ m here.

The screams had just stopped, and the silence was more horrible than even the noise. He gripped his weapon, scraping the edge more quickly on the cinder block. Then he heard footsteps and stopped. He stood and looked at the sharp point he had created. It seemed there was no more time. It would have to do.