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“You think that maybe we should burn the house down?” García-Romero said sarcastically.
Pevsner considered that a moment, and then said, “You use bottled gas here, right? Bottled gas explodes. Can you handle that, or should I have János show you how that’s done?”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. You have a problem with that?”
Careful, Tío Héctor.
The wrong answer will get you in more trouble than you can imagine.
“How much time do I have?” García-Romero asked. “I have several men I trust completely. I could leave them here to arrange the ... accident.”
“While you go where?”
“I was about to say Mexico City, but I think San Antonio would be even better. Better yet, New York.”
Pevsner considered that.
“New York would be better,” he said. “Twenty-four hours from now, Nicolai will fly over this place. When he looks down, he will expect to see the burned—possibly still burning—ruins of this building.”
“That’s what he will see,” García-Romero said.
Congratulations, Uncle Héctor. You have just said the magic words.
And your bullet-ridden corpse will not be found in the burned ruins of your house in the desert.
[TWO]
Penthouse B
The Grand Cozumel Beach & Golf Resort
Cozumel
Quintana Roo, Mexico
1915 7 February 2007
The fishermen had apparently come home from the sea shortly before the hunters had come home from the hills around Drug Cartel International.
When Castillo and the others walked into the penthouse, the tiled area around the swimming pool was being converted by the resort staff—under the direction of Uncle Remus—into a high-in-the-sky grilled seafood outdoor restaurant. A long table had been set up, and flames were still rising from the just-ignited lava coals in two barbecue grills. An enormous insulated box seemed to be stuffed with king mackerel, and another cooler with bottles of Dos Equis beer.
Max immediately went to sniff at the fish.
Everybody but Colin Leverette and Lester Bradley, who stood at the grills, was sitting around the pool on chaise longues under umbrellas, most of them holding bottles of the Dos Equis.
“I knew Our Noble Leader would return when he smelled food,” Uncle Remus said. “And he’d tell us where he’s been. Right, Charley?”
“I’ll even show you movies of where I’ve been,” Castillo replied, and looked at Lester. “Lester, can we send tapes from surveillance cameras to Casey? Or look at them on the TV? Both?”
Bradley thought about that a moment, nodded, and said, “Yes, sir. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Have at it,” Castillo said.
“I’ll take over the grill,” Svetlana said. “Somehow I suspect cooking is not among Uncle Remus’s many skills. And I don’t want that fish ruined. I’m hungry.”
“You are in the presence, madam, of one of New Orleans’s most skilled piscatorial chefs,” Uncle Remus said. “Be humble.”
