cussler.blueandgold-第28节

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s　not　far。〃
　
　Austin　curled　his　thumb　and　forefinger　and　silently　mouthed　a　word。　Bingo。　〃No　problem。　Where　would　he　like　us　to　get　together？〃
　
　The　dealer　told　him　to　park　on　the　U。S。　side　of　the　border　and　walk　across　the　pedestrian　bridge。　The　pistol　case　would　identify　him。　Austin　said　he'd　be　there　in　two　hours　and　hung　up。　Then　he　filled　Zavala　in。
　
　Zavala　said；　〃What　if　he　takes　you　somewhere　we　can't　help　you；　like　one　of　those　ranches　where　he　likes　to　plant　people？〃
　
　〃Then　I'll　keep　the　conversation　on　the　pistols；　and　we'll　go　through　with　the　transaction　if　he's　interested。　At　the　very　least　it　will　give　me　a　chance　to　size　him　up。〃
　
　Austin　immediately　called　Gomez。　The　FBI　agent　said　he'd　assembled　a　team　in　anticipation。　They　would　watch　Austin's　back　but　couldn't　get　too　close　because　Pedralez　would　make　sure　Austin　was　not　followed。　A　few　minutes　later　the　NUMA　men　were　on　the　way　south　again　in　the　borrowed　pickup。　
　Zavala　left　Austin　off　on　the　American　side　and　drove　into　Mexico。　Austin　waited　twenty　minutes；　then　walked　across　the　bridge；　the　pistol　case　tucked　under　his　arm。　He'd　hardly　gotten　off　the　bridge　when　a　portly　middle…aged　man　in　a　cheap　suit　approached　him。　〃Meester　Austeen？〃　he　said。　〃Yes；　that's　my　name。〃
　
　The　man　produced　a　federal　police　badge。　〃Police　escort　for　you　and　your　valuables；〃　he　said　with　a　grin。　〃Courtesy　of　the　chief。　Lotsa　bad　people　in　Tijuana。〃
　
　He　led　the　way　to　a　dark　blue　sedan　and　held　the　back　door　open。　Austin　got　in　first；　making　a　quick　sweep　of　the　parking　lot　with　his　eyes。　Zavala　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。　Austin　would　have　been　disappointed　if　Zavala　were　too　conspicuous；　but　he　would　have　felt　better　knowing　that　his　back　was　being　watched。
　
　The　car　plunged　into　the　Tijuana　traffic；　winding　its　way　through　a　bewildering　warren　of　slums。　While　the　driver　was　leering　at　a　young　woman　crossing　the　street；　Austin　checked　the　rear。　The　only　vehicle　behind　them　was　a　battered　old　yellow　cab。
　
　The　police　car　stopped　in　front　of　a　windowless　cantina　whose　pockmarked　stucco　exterior　of　seasick　green　looked　as　if　it　had　been　used　for　target　practice　by　an　AIC…47。　The　old　cab　went　speeding　by。　Austin　got　out　and　stood　next　to　a　rusty　Corona　beer　sign；　wondering　if　he　was　expected　to　go　inside　the　cantina　and　whether　it　would　be　a　good　idea。　A　gunmetal…gray　Mercedes　came　around　the　corner　and　halted　at　the　curb。　A　tough…looking　young　man　wearing　a　chauffeur's　cap　got　out　and　wordlessly　held　the　door　open。　Austin　got　in；　and　they　were　off。
　
　The　car　left　the　slums　and　drove　into　a　middle…class　neighborhood；　stopping　in　front　of　an　outdoor　cafe。　Another　young　Mexican　opened　the　door　and　escorted　Austin　to　a　table　where　a　man　was　sitting　by　himself。
　
　The　man　extended　his　hand　and　smiled　broadly。　〃Please　sit　down；　Mr。　Austin；〃　he　said。　〃My　name　is　Enrico　Pedralez。〃
　
　Austin　wondered　at　the　banality　of　evil；　how　even　a　monster　could　look　so　ordinary。　Enrico　was　in　his　fifties；　Austin　guessed。　
　He　was　casually　dressed　in　tan　cotton　slacks　and　a　white　short　sleeved　shirt。　He　could　have　passed　for　any　of　the　merchants　who　sold　sombreros　and　blankets　in　the　tourist　shops。　He　had　black　hair　and　a　mustache　that　looked　dyed　and　wore　a　great　deal　of　gold　in　the　form　of　rings；　wristlets；　and　a　chain。
　
　A　waiter　delivered　two　tall　glasses　of　cold　fruit　juice。　Austin　sipped　his　drink　and　glanced　around。　Eight　swarthy　men　sat　two　at　each　table。　The　men　were　not　talking　to　each　other。　They　made　a　pretense　of　not　looking　at　Austin；　but　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　caught　quick　glances　in　his　direction。　Mr。　Pedralez　might　be　a　bit　cocky　about　appearing　in　public；　but　he　took　no　chances。
　
　〃Thank　you　very　much　for　ing　to　see　me　on　such　short　notice；　ML　Austin。　I　hope　it　was　no　trouble。〃　He　spoke　English　with　a　slight　accent。
　
　〃Not　at　all。　I　was　pleased　to　be　put　in　touch　with　a　potential　buyer　so　quickly。　I'm　leaving　San　Diego　tomorrow。〃
　
　〃Senor　Latham　said　you　were　involved　in　the　boat　race。〃
　
　〃I　was　one　of　the　losers；　unfortunately。　My　boat　sank。〃
　
　〃A　pity；〃　Pedralez　said。　He　removed　his　sunglasses；　his　small　greedy　eyes　moving　to　the　pistol　case。　He　rubbed　his　hands　briskly　together　in　anticipation。　〃May　I　see　them？〃
　
　〃Of　course。〃　Austin　unsnapped　the　clasp　on　the　box　and　opened　the　cover。
　
　'~h；　truly　magnificent；〃　Pedralez　said　with　the　eagerness　of　a　true　connoisseur。　He　took　a　pistol　out　and　sighted　it　at　one　of　the　men　at　a　nearby　table。　The　man　smiled　nervously。　Then　the　drug　lord　ran　his　finger　over　the　oiled　barrel。　〃Boutet。　Made　in　the　English　style；　for　a　wealthy　lord；　no　doubt。〃
　
　〃That　was　my　assessment　as　well。〃
　
　〃The　workmanship　is　excellent；　as　I　would　expect。〃　He　care　fully　placed　the　pistol　back　in　its　case　and　sighed　theatrically。　〃Unfortunately　I　have　a　similar　pair。〃
　
　〃Oh。　Well。〃　Austin　made　a　show　of　trying　to　hide　his　disappointment。　As　Austin　went　to　close　the　case；　Pedralez　put　his　hand　on　his。　
　
　　〃Perhaps　we　can　still　do　business。　I　would　like　to　present　these　as　a　gift　to　a　close　friend。　Have　you　thought　of　a　price？〃
　
　〃Yes；〃　Austin　said　casually。　He　looked　around；　hoping　Gomez　was　serious　about　his　backup；　and　said　casually；　〃I　need　some　in　formation。〃
　
　The　Mexican's　eyes　narrowed。　〃I　don't　understand；〃　he　said　warily。
　
　〃I'm　in　the　market　for　some　property　myself。　There's　a　tortilla　factory　in　the　Baja。　I　understand　that　it　might　be　available　in　a　fire　sale。〃
　
　〃You're　mistaken；〃　Pedralez　said　coldly。　He　snapped　his　fingers。　The　men　lounging　at　the　surrounding　tables　came　to　alert。　〃Who　are　you？〃
　
　〃I　represent　an　organization　far　bigger　than　yours。〃
　
　〃You're　a　policeman？　FBI？〃
　
　〃No。　I'm　with　the　National　Underwater　and　Marine　Agency。　I'm　an　ocean　scientist；　and　I'm　investigating　an　explosion　near　your　plant。　In　return　for　information　I'd　like　to　make　these　pistols　a　gift。〃
　
　The　avuncular　smile　had　vanished；　and　Enrico's　lips　were　curled　in　a　humorless　and　ferocious　grin。　〃Do　you　take　me　for　a　fool？　I　own　this　restaurant。　These　men；　the　waiters；　the　cook；　they　all　work　for　me。　You　could　disappear　without　a　trace。　They　would　swear　you　were　never　here。　What　do　I　care　for　your　pistolas？〃　he　said　with　contempt。　〃I　have　dozens　more。〃
　
　Austin　kept　his　gaze　leveled　on　Enrico's　face。　〃Tell　me；　Mr。　Pedralez；　as　a　fellow　collector；　what　is　your　fascination　with　these　old　weapons？〃
　
　The　Mexican　seemed　amused　at　the　question。　The　heat　went　out　of　the　fierce　glitter　in　his　eyes；　but　the　temperature　went　down　only　a　few　degrees。
　
　〃They　represent　power　and　the　means　of　power。　Yet　at　the　same　time　they　are　as　beautiful　as　a　woman's　body。〃
　
　〃Well　said。〃
　
　〃And　you？〃
　
　〃Aside　from　their　fine　workmanship；　they　remind　me　that　lives　and　fate　can　be　altered　by　chance。　A　trigger　squeezed　pre　maturely。　A　gun　raised　too　quickly。　A　single　shot　missing　a　vital　organ　by　an　inch　or　two。　They　represent　the　luck　of　the　draw　in　its　most　lethal　terms。〃
　
　The　Mexican　seemed　intrigued　by　the　answer。　〃You　must　consider　yourself　very　lucky　to　place　yourself　in　my　hands；　Mr。　Austin。〃
　
　〃Not　at　all。　I　took　the　chance　that　you　would　be　willing　to　chat。〃
　
　〃You　made　your　gamble。　I　applaud　your　audacity。　Unfortunately　this　is　not　your　day。　You　lose；〃　he　said　coldly。　〃I　don't　care　who　you　are　or　who　you　represent。　You　have　drawn　the　death　card。〃　He　snapped　his　fingers　again；　and　the　men　rose　from　the　tables　and　began　to　move　in。　Austin　felt　like　a　fox　outfoxed　by　the　hunters。
　
　With　an　ear…splitting　roar　of　its　unmuffled　exhaust　system；　the　battered　yellow　cab　squealed　to　a　stop　in　front　of　the　restaurant。　The　car；　an　ancient　Checker；　was　still　bouncing　on　worn　shock　absorbers　when　the　cab　driver　got　out。　Except　for　the　soiled　seer　sucker　sports　jacket　over　a　Hussong's　T…shirt；　the　driver　behind　the　reflecting　silver　lenses　looked　suspiciously　like　Joe　Zavala。
　
　Joe　stood　on　the　sidewalk　and　called　out　in　heavily　accented　English。　〃Anybody　here　call　a　cab？〃
　
　One　of　Enrico's　men　went　over　and　growled　at　Joe　in　Spanish。
　
　〃I'm　looking　for　an　American；〃　Zavala　said　in　English　at　the　top　of　his　voice；　looking　past　the　thug's　shoulder。　〃Sergeant　Alvin　York。〃
　
　The　man　put　his　palm　on　Zavala's　chest　to　emphasize　his　point。
　
　〃Okay；　okay！　Damned　gringos。〃　He　stalked　back　to　his　cab　and　lurched　off；　trailing　a　purple　cloud　of　exhaust　fumes。
　
　The　thug　turned　around　and　laughed。
　
　Austin　breathed　a　sigh　of　relief。　His　eyes　roved　the　low　rooftops；　and　he　smiled。
　
　Zavala　was　passing　on　a　message；　not　very　subtle　but　effective。　Sergeant　York　was　the　Kentucky　sharpshooter　who　got　the　
　Medal　of　Honor　for　capturing　German　prisoners　during　World　War　I。　〃An　amusing　fellow；　eh；　Mr。　Austin？〃　〃Very　amusing。〃
　
　〃Good。　Now　I　must　go。　Adios；　Mr。　Austin。　Unfortunately　we　will　not　be　meeting　again。〃
　
　〃Wait。〃
　
　The　Mexican　scowled　at　Austin　as　if　he　were　a　bit　of　lint　on　his　shirt。
　
　〃I　wouldn't　move　if　I　were　you。　You're　in　the　sights　of　a　sniper。　One　wrong　move；　and　your　head　will　explode　like　a　ripe　melon。　Look　up　on　that　roof　if　you　don't