Chapter 20

The deaths of Jose and Antonio had driven Manuel into a frenzy. They were the arms and legs that made his name feared throughout Tijuana, not to be easily replaced.

According to the periodicos, the two had killed each other in a senseless fight. True, they hadn't any fondness for each other, but there was no reason for them to fight.

Of course, and that was one of the reasons Manuel was chewing his fingernails to the quick in his upstairs room, if the police knew about that Americano they would think of another possibility.

But Jose and Antonio were not paragons of virtue. And the police would be quick to close the books on the matter, happy to stamp the word muerte across their files.

If it were not for other things to be considered, he, Manuel Ramos, would finish this thing personally. Only... and that only was what glued Manuel to his chair... only right now was not the time for a flea to move wrong. With two kidnapped American women upstairs and the two Uruguayans with their suitcase full of merchandise in the other room, police interference was not desirable.

Manuel shrugged into his charro jacket and looked at himself critically in the mirror, admiring his clean profile and classical Roman nose. It had done very well for him in the past-- captivating the ladies.

He smiled and the image in the glass smiled back, showing lustrous white teeth. It was his fortune, really. It was something nobody could take away from him.

Stepping into the other room he told the two men to come with him and they could watch the demonstration. Manuel's skin prickled slightly over that. The women were not quite ready, but he couldn't take any more time, because of the low state of his finances. So he must take a chance on them. But not without precautions! Those he had taken. Si!

Alex spent twenty minutes pacing around the building, keeping well to the shadows and out of sight. The second time around he returned to the back window which was open a fraction to let in the cool, night air.

At first it wouldn't budge. He heaved futilely, straining his arm muscles trying to slide the warped wood up. In the darkness around him he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. There was no place to hide, so he simply froze, hoping against fate that it was a casual stroller.

The sound stopped and the walker was still out of sight. Alex's hands were sweating as he waited, counting the seconds off. Then there was the patter of a steady stream of water striking the dusty ground, a grunt half way between an "ah" of relief and a belch, then the sound of a zipper closing.

Moments later the footsteps went away.

Alex attacked the window again. This time the frame gave way and slid part way up, but once again it stopped and wouldn't budge, no matter how much he cursed its ancestry. He measured the gap ruefully with his eye, deciding that maybe he could make it through.

Swinging his legs through first he sat on the sill, muttered a silent prayer that he wouldn't land on an occupied bed, and made the plunge.

The room was pitch black, but empty. Alex tried to close the window, but once again it resisted his most strenuous efforts and he decided to leave things as they were, rather than risk any further delay.

The door was unlocked and he stepped into the corridor and within seconds had found his way to the central room.