Nomar is talking to him, mostly in Spanish, which Leo is fluent in, though he hasn’t let Nomar in on this information. Nomar’s monologue is tedious and, in Leo’s mind, a flagrant waste of time, because Leo can tell that Nomar is going to order him to kill this man. It is all over his body language.

 

It is a test to see if Leo will hesitate or act when given a command.

 

After another minute of talking, Leo realizes that he is wrong, this isn’t Nomar wasting time. Nomar is trying to see if Leo will lose his cool under this kind of pressure.

 

Leo allows himself the slightest of grins, since he doesn’t feel any pressure from the situation at all. The pressure left him when he decided that yes, he was going to murder this man. From that point, he’s been calm.

 

The man under his gun, however, is feeling the pressure. He is quaking at this point, shaking so badly that the sweat pouring out of his forehead is being flung off by the trembles.

 

“So you understand, Marlon. I have to do this,” Nomar said in English, and then to Leo, “Kill him-”

 

The gun went off before Nomar could quite finish the command.

 

Leo straightened up, checked the room, and then put his gun into his side-holster. “Do you need anything from his desk? Perhaps his laptop?”

 

Nomar studied him. “Actually, yes, bueno. His laptop, please.”

 

Leo strode over to the desk and found the travel case for the laptop. He packed it all up and looked around again. “Yes?”

 

“Si, we go now,” Nomar agreed.

 

Outside, two enforcers fell into step behind them as they went down the walk to the waiting limo.

 

Once inside, Nomar gave Leo another appraisal. “You did not drive the truck today?”

 

“It is at the body shop being repainted. It will be done by next Tuesday, they told me,” Leo said.

 

“And this suit, it looks very good on you. I did not expect you … how do you say? … cleaned up so well, yes.”

 

Leo allowed himself a grin. “You mentioned last week that today would be busy with negotiations.”

 

“I did? It is, definitely, si, but I guess I must have, perhaps in passing? Certainly not as a directive.”

 

“No, nothing like that. I think your motivation was to let me know I might be bored most of the day,” Leo said.

 

“There are many emotional states I can picture you occupying, Leo, but boredom I don’t believe is one of them.”

 

“Professional wrestling,” Leo offered. “Bores me silly.”

 

Nomar laughed at this, and his laugh was genuine. “My son, he is into this, and may the Virgin bless me, I cannot get through a whole show with him. I try, I really do, but it is just too much.”

 

“It shows much that you try anyway. He’ll remember that. I’m sure it will be one of his fondest memories,” Leo said, looking out the window as the limo descended off the freeway and into the valley of El Cajon.

 

Nomar turned thoughtful. “Yes, maybe it will be. I have a similar memory of my father and his attempts to be interested in my interests. I knew even then that he wasn’t, but he did try. Yes, Leo, a very fond memory indeed.

 

“So,” Nomar said, returning to his business posture, “You performed very well back there. Any thoughts?”

 

“No, not really.”

 

“How would you be with, say, interrogation? Perhaps chain saws and such?”

 

“I think you would find better value using my talents in other areas,” Leo suggested.

 

Nomar nodded at that. “True, very true. Brutes are for that kind of work, and you are not a brute. In fact, now that I think of those talents, especially your talents in the areas of observation, I have a meeting in an hour which I was not going to have you attend, but I think I should change my mind.”

 

“A meeting like the last one?” Leo asked.

 

“No, this meeting is with Santos Gonzalez. Do you recognize the name?”

 

“Runs a sizable territory east of Tijuana. His father was one of the main heroin growers until the War on Drugs, when just like everyone else, he realized that cocaine was much more profitable, anyway. He has a wife and three daughters, no legitimate sons.”

 

“You say legitimate as if there are sons who are not,” Nomar pointed out.

 

“There are. Two, in fact, by a woman who lives in a house he provides in Tijuana. It is more or less an open secret; everyone knows, no one talks about it.”

 

“Personal feelings?” Nomar asked.

 

“None. I’ve never met the man. My information is what I’ve picked up from newspapers,” Leo told him.

 

“Then your recall is impressive. I would have sworn you had at least met him, the way you discuss him so clearly. But, this is good, for my purposes anyway. Fresh eyes on Gonzalez, and then your thoughts afterward,” Nomar said, pleased with the idea. “It would be preferable if you just listen, however.”

 

“Of course.”

 

The meeting was held in a medium-sized room. It felt expansive with the large slat doors leading to the balcony patio open and the sunlight pooling across the thresholds. Three short couches were situated around a glass and rattan magazine table.

 

After introductions, at which Leo was introduced as Nomar’s new executive assistant, the two cartel leaders took a couch across the table from one another while Leo took the one in the middle. He sat against the arm toward Nomar’s side of the room. Guards were stationed outside of the room out of ear shot, but a yell or commotion would bring them in quickly.

 

Leo also noticed that neither man objected to his sidearm.

 

Santos Gonzalez was at least thirty years Nomar’s senior. Slightly round in the middle and mostly bald on top, he still had the presence of a very powerful man. But he was nervous about something — extremely nervous.

 

Gonzalez made a twisting motion from left to right on the couch when he sat down. “Forgive me, please. I have to keep my back loose these days or it becomes very painful.”

 

“I understand. I only hope I age as gracefully as you have,” Nomar lied, though Leo didn’t believe Gonzalez picked up on the signs.

 

“The last time I was here,” Gonzalez said with an easy manner, “I was with my granddaughters. Remember, Vasquez?”

 

“Oh yes, two of them, I believe.”

 

“No, three. Marguerite, Isa and Kari.”

 

“Kari?”

 

“She is the oldest. She was wearing an orange dress, if memory serves.”

 

Nomar turned thoughtful. “I am ashamed at my lack of attention. The only one I recall in an orange dress was … well, she was another guest.”

 

Something solidified in Gonzalez after this exchange. He wasn’t nervous anymore. Leo reflected on his own calm after he had decided that he was going to murder that man earlier.

 

He’s here to kill Nomar.

 

All the signs were there: in the eyes, the shoulders, the hands. This man was bent on murder now. He wasn’t angry, not really. Leo also bet it had something to do with the oldest granddaughter as well. The one Nomar recalled as being another guest. Did he mistake Kari as being someone else, or something else?

 

Leo’s gut churned with conflicting ideas and emotions. It could end here. He could simply let it happen. Nomar would be dead, and the club could go about its business. Of course, there was the strong possibility that he would be killed as well by the guards of both of these men coming into the room and then turning on each other.

 

Shit.

 

No, it wasn’t the right time, and certainly not the right place.

 

The men talked easily to each other, discussing possible price increases and delivery incentives, for about twenty minutes. Nomar was completely relaxed now. He was in his element, on his own turf, and growing in power. He didn’t fear this old man, though he did respect him. Nomar wasn’t a fool.

 

Then Gonzalez began to do his back exercises again, and Leo knew this was it. The back exercises would camouflage the pistol draw. Nomar would die never comprehending how the old man shot him.

 

Gonzalez began with the right side, and then twisted his torso to the left as Leo rose and walked steadily in his direction, coming between Gonzalez and the table, hiding the draw from Nomar as Gonzalez came out of the twist with a small, nickel plated .38 automatic.

 

Leo snatched the gun, keeping the slide from moving, and twisted it from his hand. He slipped it into his jacket pocket while he continued to walk by.

 

Gonzalez was stunned.

 

“Senor Gonzalez? Are you alright? Leo? Did you do something? Step on his toe, perhaps?”

 

Leo turned back. “No, but if I did, I certainly apologize Senor Gonzalez.”

 

Gonzalez didn’t get to be the head of a cartel by letting himself be surprised for very long. “No, nothing like that. I just twisted a little too far that time. Leo, please, don’t concern yourself at all.”

 

“I’m very relieved, but perhaps you would like a drink?” Leo offered.

 

“Maybe a water?” Gonzalez asked.

 

“Right away,” Leo said, and he continued walking toward the small fridge in the room. “Nomar?”

 

“Si, that would be good, Leo, thank you.”

 

After that, Gonzalez was so closely guarded he made poker players appear enthusiastic. Twice, Leo noticed Gonzalez’s men poking their heads in from out on the balcony and opening the door.

 

They were told, Leo thought to himself. They’re expecting the signal. What will they do now?

 

The answer appeared to be: nothing.

 

When the two men decided to break for dinner, Gonzalez did his exercise thing again and then stood up. Maybe the exercises were real, or he was simply a thorough con-artist. Then Gonzalez rose and came over to Leo.

 

“Are you learning much?” Gonzalez asked.

 

“More than you can imagine,” Leo assured him.

 

Gonzalez studied him and then nodded. “That could be true. You have an eagle’s way of looking at things. You see vistas. Here is my card. If you are ever in Mexico and require assistance, use it.”

 

Leo checked the position of the others in the room, and then said, “Perhaps Sunday, around two, we might talk? I believe it would be mutually beneficial, and it would also allow what I rudely interrupted to move forward.”

 

Gonzalez studied him intently. “Si, but first tell me how you could have known so precisely.”

 

“You told me,” Leo replied. “First, you related what happened to your granddaughter. Nomar thought she was one of the entertainment women. She was probably so scared, she couldn’t cry out. Afterward, she was so ashamed she couldn’t speak. And then your exercises: They were the perfect camouflage for a draw. It would have worked beautifully. Of course, it was a suicide run. You didn’t expect to walk out of here, and I am not ready to die. So, I had to stop you.”

 

“If you could have left the room?”

 

Leo met the elder’s eyes and said, “I would have and with a prayer on my lips for you.”

 

Gonzalez nodded his head thoughtfully, then agreed. “Sunday, then, at two. I’ll be available. I have a feeling that it won’t be a waste of my time.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Leo said. He moved away to watch dinner being brought in and observe Gonzalez’s guards looking nervously into the room.

 

Gonzalez went to his man on the balcony and whispered in his ear. The man nodded and talked into his radio. Both men appeared much calmer after that.

 

For the rest of the evening, Leo’s mind churned through scenarios of how best to use this windfall.

 

Apparently, Gonzalez would rather die than to go into a head-to-head war with Nomar, which said a great deal about the man. To Gonzalez, this was a personal insult and would be handled personally. Thus, Gonzalez would not be interested in helping Leo on that scale.

 

He had until Sunday, he reminded himself. He would use this windfall well. Already two ideas seemed promising, but they needed work before he could present either to Gonzalez.

 

One point was now certain: If he was going to use Gonzalez as a resource, then Nomar was a dead man, preferably by Gonzalez’s hand. Used properly, however, Gonzalez could give Leo his life back in the aftermath.