The Kings Of Cool

138

Nevertheless, Filipo Sanchez sits in the back of the black Humvee, the seat piled high with presents for his daughter’s birthday.

Elena is going to be angry, he thinks. She believes he spoils Magda, but what’s a daughter for if her papa can’t spoil her? Elena says they have already spent more than enough on the party itself-and threatened to flay him alive if he was even ten minutes late-and that Magda doesn’t need more things, but a girl can never have too many pretty things.

He’s looking forward to the party, to seeing his daughter’s face light up.

Filipo lives for these moments.

He glances down at the ridiculous blue lizard boots that his bodyguard insists on wearing. Filipo keeps trying to tell Jilberto that they live in the city now, in the very best colonia in Tijuana, not out on some Sinaloan backwater, but he won’t listen.

They come to a traffic signal.

The light is about to turn yellow.

“Run it,” he tells his driver.

He must not be late for this party and risk Elena’s wrath.

But the Humvee stops.

“I said-”

Jilberto opens the door and gets out.

The driver flattens onto the seat.

Dios mio.

Three men appear in front of the car, AK-47s in their hands.

Filipo reaches for his gun as he starts to get out, but Jilberto kicks him in the chest, sending him back into the car.

Then Jilberto raises his Uzi and lets loose.

The three men open fire through the windshield.

The bullets shred Filipo and, with him, all the presents in their pretty wrappings.