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"I don't give a goddamn!"
"Ricardo originally wanted to be an Army aviator. Like the family heroes, Jorge Castillo and his son, Carlos. When he couldn't pass that physical, he was willing to become an ordinary Armor officer, like me. And when he couldn't pass that physical, either, and filled with a noble desire to serve his country, he settled for the DEA. All they wanted was somebody with a college degree who could speak Spanish."
"You seem to know a lot about the sonofabitch."
"Of course I do."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You don't know, do you?" Fernando asked, incredulously.
"Know what, for Christ's sake?"
"If you had more than a passing interest in the family, Carlos, maybe you would."
Fernando only calls me "Carlos" when he's really pissed at me.
"Get to the goddamn point!"
"Abuela is Ricardo's godmother."
"I didn't know that."
"I figured you didn't. And when Ricardo's mother died-he was thirteen at the time. How old were you when your mother died?"
"Twelve."
"Three guesses, Gringo, which really nice old lady who took her godmother vows seriously just about raised Ricardo Solez?"
"I didn't know that," Castillo admitted, softly. "And he didn't say anything."
"So what happened is Abuela called Ricardo-they have this thing, Gringo, called the telephone, which some people use just to say 'Hello, how are you?' and not only when they're in trouble and want something- and he said, 'Hey, Dona Alicia, guess who's el jefe in charge of finding out who killed Jack the Stack and protecting his family?' Or words to that effect. And our Abuela, who really is always running off at the mouth, called me, and said, 'Hey, Fernando, guess who's el jefe…' "
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Which had the whole family sitting in front of the tube hoping to see-what is it Otto calls you?-'the prodigal son' in action."
Castillo didn't reply.
"So what kind of trouble are you in now, Gringo? And how can the family help?"
"You're right," Castillo said.
"Does that mean you agree that you're a sonofabitch or that you're in trouble?"
"Both."
"What kind of trouble, Gringo?" Fernando said. There was now concern in his voice.
"I'm sitting on the floor of a room in the German Hospital. In the bed next to me is Betty Schneider-"
"What? What the hell is she doing in Argentina?"
"Right now, she just came out of the operating room, where they took three nine-millimeter bullets from a Madsen out of her…"
"?Madre de Dios!"
"… one from the leg, one from the jaw, and one from what the doctor euphemistically refers to as 'the groin area.' "
