Wild Country

Chapter Sixty-Four

Because most security cops knew a Chiller when they saw one, Quantrill had little difficulty making his needs understood. A federal "brick," or undercover field agent, often carried no ID beyond a Chiller, and a few even operated without that. Shaking his head to clear it now and then, mopping away runnels of blood from his nose with a borrowed bandanna, Quantrill sought to patch up the mess he had made. It didn't help that he had to ignore the troubles of Lufo and the woman.

"We've got casualties here, so I hope there's a chopper on the way."

"On the bounce," said the Buntline man, who had the look of a retired beat cop.

"I need two things right now. or there may be some innocent people killed. Get me a good high-gain VHP set, and throw up a cordon around Faro. Nobody, but NObody, gets out unless I see them first. Felix Sorel is armed and extremely dangerous, and I'm calling for as much expert backup as I can get."

Mr. Buntline hurried out of the room. A waitress was sitting cross-legged with Marianne Placidas's head in her lap, comforting her and thumbing a pressure point in her armpit. "Be sure you release the pressure now and then," he cautioned, and knelt beside Lufo Albeniz.

The TexMex sat with his back against the overturned table. He had torn his shirt open and was trying to make a pressure bandage of a napkin with his right hand. Now he looked up at his old friend. "Jus' like old times," he said.

"Not quite. Is it the big one? Let me see."

Lufo showed him. "The best kind, compadre. One slug, two holes. Listen, you don' believe that stuff about San Antonio Rose. Right?"

"I know you match a detailed description, you dumb shit. I just never thought about you fitting it. But I'm betting Street didn't send you, so…" Quantrill sighed; placed a hand on the big man's good shoulder. "Thank God you never could stay on one side for long. You helped. Thanks."

"I was dead slow, Ted. I think I let that crazy woman follow me here. Whatever I had in this business, it's gone."

"That's not all you've lost. Lufo—why?"

Lufo shifted for more comfort and managed a crooked smile. "To get ahead. It's not easy when you have wives and kids on both sides of the border, hijo."

"You'll have years to think on that when you're inside, looking out."

"An" my kids callin' other guys 'papa'? You know I can't think about that. Drive me loco."

"You were loco to fuck around with the likes of Sorel," Quantrill said.

"Yeah. Compadre, you remember when I hauled your drowned ass outa that tunnel, about a thousan' years ago?" He waited; got only a grunt of assent. "You tol' me after that, if I ever wanted a favor, jus' ask. Well, I never asked. I'm askin' now."

"For what?" As if they didn't both know.

"For Mexico." He closed his eyes as he said it, drawing the word out softly, "May-zhee-coe," as a child might drawl its mother's name. "I won' come back. I'm not that stupid."

After a long moment Quantrill said, "Could you make it the way you are?"

"Never," said Lufo, rolling his eyes upward. "I swear on the honor of Anglos." The crinkles above lean cheekbones said he was not to be taken seriously.

Shaking his head, trying not to grin, Quantrill stood up and spoke so the waitress could hear. "For the record, Lufo, I can't let you go. And I'm absolutely certain you're hurt too bad to light a shuck on your own. There'll be a chopper for you any minute, and I have a job to do." Pause: "Any idea where Sorel will go to ground?"

"He was waitin' for the delta. Could go anywhere now." As Quantrill started for the doorway, Lufo added, "Listen, compadre, you wait for backups. You know how good you were in ninety-six? That's how good he is, I shit you not."

"I know," said Quantrill. and turned away. From the tail of his eye he saw the big TexMex already struggling to his feet.