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“Probably home eating their dinner and watching Family Feud reruns,” Mack said. “Which is where we should be.”
“Why don’t you stay with the car while I go see if there’s someplace we can buy dinner?”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you stay with the car?” Mack countered.
“How about we both go?” Maggie capitulated with a sigh.
“What if someone decides to steal the Jeep? I didn’t mind seeing the other one go, but I’ve gotten sort of fond of this one.”
“I don’t really give a damn if Scotty beams it up to the Enterprise,” she said. “Even a brand-new Jeep doesn’t have the world’s greatest springs, and I’m not really looking forward to climbing back in it tonight.”
“Maybe you won’t have to, Maggie.” It was a new voice—fresh, American—with the faint trace of a Midwestern accent.
“Willis,” Maggie said. “Where the hell did you spring from?”
“This is my town, Maggie. No one comes within ten miles of it without my knowing it,” the man said. He was hidden in the shadows of the alleyway just off the main plaza, and all Maggie could see were his combat boots and the barrel of his gun. But it was Willis, all right. She’d know that cool, passionless voice anywhere.
“This is Chicaste?”
“This is Chicaste. Now, you wanna tell me what the fuck you’ve been doing messing around all over Tegucigalpa? I got word from my own man down there, I got word from Castanasta, and I got word from the ACSO. You’re one foolhardy lady, you know that? I would have thought you’d learned your lesson by now. La
st time I saw you, you weren’t in any mood to go putting that nose of yours where it doesn’t belong.”
“I still don’t put it where it doesn’t belong, Willis,” she said in a cool voice. “I have business down here.”
“With me?”
“With Van Zandt. You want to tell me where he is?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Who’s your friend?” The gun barrel gestured at Mack’s silent form.
“None of your damned business, Willis.”
“Sure it is, Maggie. If you want to see Van Zandt, you’re going to have to play the game my way. I told you, this town is mine. You come anywhere near it and I own your ass.”
“Don’t threaten me, Willis.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Maggie.” He stepped into the light. He was a wiry man, with a Marine hair cut, skeletal cheekbones, and the emptiest eyes Maggie had ever seen. It had been four years since their paths had crossed, and she’d almost forgotten how deathlike he looked. He grinned at her, that travesty of good fellowship that fooled no one. “Is that Pulaski?”
“If you knew, why did you have to ask?”
“Just wanted to see whether you’d lie to me.”
“I have no intention of lying to you, Willis,” she said calmly. “I need your help, and I know you aren’t going to give it to me unless I’m straight with you.”
“Maybe I’m not going to give it to you anyway.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think you would have brought me down here if you weren’t going to help me.”
“You got it wrong, lady. I didn’t bring you down here.”
Mack spoke for the first time, his raw voice soft and oddly menacing in the warm night air. “Then who did?”
Willis cackled. “Mancini did a good job on your throat, didn’t he, friend? You should have learned your lesson back then.”
“I guess I’m a slow learner,” Mack said with deceptive gentleness. “You didn’t answer my question, friend.”
Willis smiled his death’s-head grin. “Van Zandt brought you guys to the elegant resort of Chicaste.”
