The man began walking along, looking into the cars.

"Okay, "Cal said, "we get out, let him see us, nothing to hide. We just go in, go to the bar, and wait until Macias comes in."

They opened the doors and got out, talking normally, ignoring the guy walking along behind the cars. He froze when he heard them coming along to his right on the other side of an island of trees. They pa.s.sed him by, ignoring him.

They sat in the bar where they could see the front door and waited for Macias.

"They're going to sit in the car with the windows open," Cal said, elbow to elbow with Baas at the bar. "With that gravel, we'd never be able to get close to them. Got to do it another way now."

It didn't take the bodyguard fifteen minutes to check all the cars in the lot, and in twenty minutes Macias came through the front door of the restaurant. But one of the bodyguards was with him.

Cal moaned under his breath.

"No problem, "Baas said, and watched the bodyguard as he stopped at the courtyard door and waited until Macias had found a table. The guard quickly surveyed the other patrons in the courtyard and then stepped into the bar and took a small, round bistro table from which he could watch both Macias and the front door. Cal and Baas paid and returned to their car.

Inside the car they took a few moments to check out the Navigator again through their binoculars. The remaining guard sat behind the steering wheel. They fiddled a little with their equipment, and then Cal backed out of their parking s.p.a.ce and started around toward the front of the restaurant. The turns in the gravel drive were tight, and negotiating the parking area was a slow go. As they approached the rear of the blue Navigator Cal slowed to a crawl and finally stopped when the rear of the car was just past it. He put it in reverse and backed up to straighten the car into the turn. Forward again, then reverse again. Suddenly he plowed into the rear fender of the Navigator.

For a second nothing happened. He and Baas sat in the car, waiting. Then Cal put the car in gear again, pulled a foot or two forward, reversed it again, and crunched into the Navigator's fender a second time. This time the driver's door came open, and they could see the guy getting out in the red glow of Cal's taillights. Cal got out, too, leaving his door open as he stepped to the back of the car.

"s.h.i.t, "Cal swore. "What the h.e.l.l? "He looked at the driver. "Man, you're sticking out two feet here."

The man said something in Spanish as he threw his arms out and gave Cal an incredulous "What the h.e.l.l's this? "look.

"Yeah, two feet, "Cal said, deliberately avoiding Spanish, "you're sticking out two feet here, for Christ's sake. "He kicked the Navigator's b.u.mper.

Now Baas got out, too, walking around the front of the car, putting him on the same side of the crunched fender as the bodyguard.

"Oh, man, "Baas said, his eyes fixed on the damaged fender.

"What're you going to do? "Cal said to the driver as he looked at his fender. "I got damage here, too, you know. You're sticking out two feet, for Christ's sake."

The bodyguard moved up, looking at Cal's fender.

Then Baas spoke to the guard in Spanish from the other side of the car. Swearing at him. The guard took a step toward him, bringing him within arm's reach of Cal.

Without warning Cal swung his arm around and slammed his fists squarely over the Mexican's heart. The force of the blow drove a needle into the Mexican's chest and simultaneously penetrated a cyanide pellet inside a gas canister hidden in Cal's closed fists. The propellant drove home the drop of cyanide.

The Mexican fell to the gravel between the cars as if he'd been dropped from the sky. Cal jumped into the car and pulled it around to another parking spot to avoid drawing attention, then rushed back to help Baas load the man into the back of the Navigator.

Chapter 49.

Just before he turned off the highway, t.i.tus received a phone call from a very calm Herrin, telling him that Macias had beaten him to La Terrazza. No problem, Herrin said. It might have been an advantage for t.i.tus to have been there first, but it wasn't crucial.

Fine, t.i.tus said. He knew they didn't want to rattle him. He figured it would have to be pretty bad before they'd let him hear them actually get excited. Be flexible, he told himself. Just breathe deeply and be flexible.

He drove through the parking lot, wondering where Macias's two bodyguards would be and wondering when Burden's men were going to deal with them and how they would do it. Quietly, he knew that much. How, then, would they deal with Macias? All questions that t.i.tus hadn't been able to get answers to. It wasn't part of his job. His job was keeping Macias at that table until he got a telephone call.

He found an open parking spot and headed for the restaurant, going through the front courtyard, through the bar, and out into the large courtyard in back, where tables were scattered about under the trees. Macias wasn't hard to spot, a very handsome Mexican dressed in a stylish linen shirt and trousers. And alone.

t.i.tus headed straight for him, and as he approached, he was taken aback to see Jorge Macias smile in recognition, stand, and stick out his hand to shake as he said, "t.i.tus, it's great to see you."

t.i.tus had a flash of Charlie Thrush being ripped to pieces by a chain saw. A flash of Carla fighting someone-how, exactly, had that happened?-and then dying slowly of anaphylactic shock. He couldn't do it. He couldn't touch the guy, much less shake hands with him. He sat down immediately, leaving Macias to make the best he could of his hand hanging in the air. Macias sat down, too.

"You've got to play along with this, Mr. Cain, "Macias said in a low voice, still smiling. "We cannot attract attention to ourselves. We have to be civil."

"No, I don't have to be civil, "t.i.tus said. "What do you want?"

There was a bottle of wine on the table that Macias had ordered and was already drinking, and he poured some in the other gla.s.s and pushed it an inch toward t.i.tus.

"Drink it, "he said. "It might make this a little easier to do."

t.i.tus did, taking in Macias as he turned up the gla.s.s. He was disconcertingly handsome, a neat haircut, manicured nails, a close shave around a perfect mustache. His shortsleeved shirt revealed a trim build with muscular shoulders and arms.

The tables around them were filled with people, but t.i.tus hadn't noticed a single one of them. Macias had chosen a table well situated for a quiet conversation. He took a drink of wine, too, and his smile fell away.

"Permit me, please, "he said, and just above the edge of the table he produced a small black device the size of a cell phone and pointed it at t.i.tus. It threw a thin red horizontal bar across t.i.tus's chest. Macias slowly moved it down t.i.tus's body to the top of the table, then moved the device below the table and finished going down t.i.tus's torso to his feet. Macias looked un.o.btrusively at the dial on the instrument.

He nodded. "Very good, "he said, and put the device away. "I have a proposition that is very straightforward and simple: You deposit ten million dollars into a certain account in the Caymans, and I will give you Cayetano Luquin. You can stop him and save forty-four million at the same time. And, of course, you will save lives."

For the second time, t.i.tus was caught off guard. Where was the interrogation he had been cautioned about so much? Where was the wily measuring of words, the calculated reading between the lines? If t.i.tus said yes, would that be the end of it? Would they stand and walk away?

He remembered Burden's instructions: Just keep Macias there as long as you can. Say whatever you have to say. Just keep him there until you hear from Kal.

"Why are you offering me this deal?"

"I make more money this way."

His response was blunt and easy, as if the answer were obvious, like cutting a better deal on a new SUV.

"And I'll be doing you a favor, too, won't I, "t.i.tus added, "by getting rid of that son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Macias tilted his head to one side in a shrug. "That would be true, yes."

"Let's say I'm able to do that, "t.i.tus proposed. "The money, get rid of Luquin. How do I know one of his people won't come after me and carry out Luquin's threats? How do I know you won't come after me later?"

Macias nodded. "First of all, no one is going to do anything for Tano Luquin after he's dead. He does not inspire that kind of loyalty. There will be many people who will be sorry that the cash flow has been stopped; but no one will be sorry that Tano is dead.

"Second, I can easily imagine how angry you are about what has happened to you. And I can easily imagine how much you have learned from this experience. With your money and with what you've learned, I can imagine, too, that you will create your own guarantee that this sort of thing will never happen to you again. There's no warranty that I could give you that would be more a.s.suring to you than your own determination."

"That's no comfort to me."

"That's only because you don't understand the risks from my side of the enterprise."

"And how will you 'give'me Luquin? "t.i.tus asked.

"We can work out the details, "he said. "But first, are you interested in the proposition?"

"It's possible. But I have to know the details first."

"Why the details first?"

"I've never done business with a killer before, "t.i.tus said evenly. "I'm going to be very cautious."

Macias's face was immobile. He didn't like t.i.tus's choice of words. A dew of perspiration appeared in the creases on either side of his mouth.

"And how would you get the money to me? "Macias asked in turn.

"I can do it with a phone call. The same way I did the other ten million."

"When?"

"In the morning. You'll get confirmation from your bank within an hour of my call."

Macias nodded again. "When I get the phone confirmation about the money, I'll tell you precisely step by step how to do it."

"Not good enough."

Macias studied him a moment. "I know you have someone working with you. I don't know what's going on there. I have to protect myself."

"Well, we seem to be at an impa.s.se, then."

"What would you propose? "Macias asked. "As a compromise?"

"Look, "t.i.tus said. "You've seen me give Luquin ten million already, like I said I would. And I'll put it in your account, too, just like I say I will. But the only thing I've seen from your side of this deal has been lies and death. Now you tell me you're willing to give up Luquin. Well, tell me how he's protected-exactly how. You don't do that it makes me think you're going to screw him-and me-and skip out on both of us. So my feeling right now is, f.u.c.k you."

Macias studied t.i.tus again. He was trying to reconcile this hard stance against what he'd heard over the bug. But, of course, the moment he'd contacted Cain with his proposal to sell out Luquin, Cain's situation had shifted radically. What Macias was seeing here was how quickly Cain's compet.i.tive mettle came to the forefront when he saw even the slightest opening. Macias might have more to deal with here than he had expected.

Macias drank quickly from his gla.s.s, weighing the upside, the downside. He was smelling the $10 million, and more important, he was thinking what life would be like without Cayetano Luquin breathing down his neck and not actually having to do anything about it himself. But Cain was right, of course; he needed something to believe.

"What does it matter to you how he's protected, "Macias asked, "if you are only going to turn the information over to the police?"

"Did I say I was going to turn the information over to the police?"

"What is this, then? "he asked cautiously and with an amused smile. "Your own personal vengeance? But this is such a Latin thing, Mr. Cain."

t.i.tus could feel himself trembling from the high-voltage energy produced by the adrenaline pumping through him.

"Did you really think I was going to watch that man kill my friends and steal my money, and then let him go? He told me that if I didn't do what he said, he'd haunt me the rest of my life by killing my friends, my family. Well, I did what he said, and he killed people anyway. "He paused. "Or rather, you did it for him."

The smirk stiffened on Macias's face.

t.i.tus went on. "Did he really think ... I was going to let that happen without any kind of response? Fifty-four million dollars. If he thinks that kind of money is going to enable him to get certain things done, to buy certain information, to have people killed, what makes him think it won't do the same things for me? Does he think I'm an idiot?"

t.i.tus had no idea that he was going to say all of this, but suddenly as he looked at Macias several obvious ideas converged. The advantage that Macias had over everyone-first, with Luquin over t.i.tus; and now, working only in self-interest, over Luquin as well-was based solely in his willingness to simply disregard the rules by which everyone else in society agreed to play. Even the trust that Luquin had put in Macias, twisted though it was, had its own rules of order. And now Macias was ignoring even those corrupt boundaries.

But what really infuriated t.i.tus was that Macias apparently a.s.sumed that t.i.tus would continue to obey the traditional rules of society, that t.i.tus would not resort to Macias's own lawless tactics, even though not doing so would put him at every conceivable disadvantage. The condescension of that presumption suddenly struck t.i.tus like a lightning bolt. What in the h.e.l.l had t.i.tus been thinking about?

He fixed his eyes on Macias and lowered his voice.

"Has Luquin ever stopped to think how much revenge that amount of money will buy ... me?"

Macias said nothing. He waited. He was dealing with the unavoidable reality that everything Cain said about Luquin was directed at him as well.

"I'm not going to pay for more lies, "t.i.tus concluded. "Unless I can believe what you tell me, I'll just keep my ten million."

Macias was suddenly scrambling to reevaluate his position. This kind of talk from Cain was not what he had antic.i.p.ated. Why was he suddenly so confident? How much more did Cain know than Macias had thought he knew? If Cain was after revenge, then maybe he was on his own after all. No legitimate law enforcement agency would be involved in that kind of operation. Was it possible that Cain had hired some very capable professionals? Maybe Macias had caught this just in time to prevent a debacle of his own tightly planned scheme.

"Maybe I can tell you a few things, "Macias said, buying time to think.

"How's he protected? "t.i.tus asked again. "What will my people be facing if you 'give'him to me? How many guards? Where are they located? Give me some details to believe. But I've got to have a h.e.l.l of a lot more than a promise from a man like you before I'll fork over another dollar."

Macias's handsome face was stiff with anger and more than a little suspicion.

"You are asking a lot for a man who has Cayetano Luquin hanging on to his b.a.l.l.s with both hands. Maybe I should just let him go ahead and take your fifty-four million ... and however many more lives he wants in the process."

t.i.tus put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, way forward, almost in Macias's face, to make his point. "Listen to me, you sick son of a b.i.t.c.h. Just sitting here with you makes me want to puke. Don't ... threaten ... me."

Even as he spoke, it occurred to t.i.tus that he had juiced himself up so much that maybe he had said too much. Maybe he had gone way too far, way past smart. But from the moment he'd walked into the courtyard and seen Macias, the idea of conversing with this man had been repugnant to him. It was suddenly fantastical to him that he should be sitting down and talking calmly with the man who had orchestrated the deaths of Charlie and Carla.

But now maybe he had really screwed up. He could see from the look on Macias's face that he knew something was definitely wrong here. Why the h.e.l.l couldn't t.i.tus have contained his temper for another hour? And where the h.e.l.l was Kal's phone call?

Chapter 50.

Cope and t.i.to checked in with Cal just moments before they drove past the Pathfinder parked down the street from Luquin's house. They pa.s.sed it only once, slowly, going in the opposite direction, with Cope driving and t.i.to slumped down out of sight in the seat beside him.

"Windows down, "he said. "I think I heard a radio."

Two blocks away they pulled to the curb in front of a darkened house.

"They're parked beside an embankment, "he went on, "to the side of the house. The yard sits about four feet higher than the street. The garage opens up right at the rear of the Pathfinder. There's some kind of hedge, about six feet high, at the top of the embankment to give the house privacy from the street. There's a bush jammed up next to the rear of the Pathfinder, planted right at the curb to hide the trash cans."

"What about the approach?"

"We could come at the house from the back of the garage through the street side of the neighbor's yard. From the corner of the garage we'd be protected from their rearview mirrors by the big bush. They can't see the rear right corner of the Pathfinder from inside the vehicle."

t.i.to was silent.