On the way to Temecula, Sheila realized that she hadn't called Nicholas. She took her cell phone out of her purse, but then thought better of it. He was probably home and she couldn't bring herself to lie to him voice to voice.
With her Mapquest print out in her hand, she exited the fifteen south at Temecula. Dos Hombres stood at the center of a strip mall designed to look like a Mexican village. Red tile roofs topped beige stucco walls. Heavy timber pergolas supported bougainvilleas in wild red bloom and swagged strands of little white lights. A beautiful fountain, decorated with hand painted tiles, splashed happily in front of the restaurant. The irony was almost too painful.
It was well past the dinner hour. She stood inside the door a moment to give the man known as Bird an opportunity to approach her, but the place was deserted except for an old man sitting at the bar talking to the bartender. So she stepped up to the reception desk and requested a large booth facing the door. "I'm expecting some one else," she told the server. "I'll wait to order."
"Something to drink, Senorita?" he said.
"A strawberry margarita, with salt, please."
He returned with her drink and chips and salsa. She sipped the margarita. Sweet and salty and cold and thick with crushed ice, it was the best and most refreshing drink in the world. She was glad that she had arrived before Bird. The last few hours had been insanely busy. After picking up the box of drugs, she'd stopped at Hank's Sporting Goods and, with the help of a very knowledgeable sales person, she'd outfitted herself for her return to Mateo. From her Tilly flop hat down to her water proof, quick drying boots, she was good to go. She especially like the khaki pants that could be converted to shorts. The walking stick with the compass in the top knob was an impulse buy, but might come in handy. She'd unpacked the box of medicine and repacked it in a backpack that had a titanium frame and straps to put around her waist to keep it from bouncing around. Perhaps she'd gone a bit over the top. No matter. Gearing up was the way southern Californians did sports. In many cases that took longer and was more interesting to them than participating in the activity. And shopping had helped her pass the time until the meeting with the drug runner. The gear, including the medicine, was laid out on the bed in the guest room. Her stomach fluttered and shooting pains were sure to follow. She dipped a chip into the salsa and bit into it. She ate several more
She'd glanced at the door a dozen times trying to spot Bird before he spotted her. She imagined him as twenty-something, small, dark haired, and with swarthy skin. A combination of Pablo Escobar and Noriaga, who bore the nick name pizza face because his complexion was so bad. Her heart skipped a beat. She'd been so busy acting tough with Carl that she'd forgotten to ask if Bird spoke English.
"What can I do for you?"
Sheila looked up and found that the man from the bar stood next to the table. She'd thought he was a customer, but apparently he WAs a server.
"I'm waiting for someone." she said.
He sat down across the table. "I don't have a lot of time, lady."
"You're Bird?"
He looked like an unkempt version of the handsome one of the Beach Boys. That was a surprise and so was the fact that he was tall and fair skinned. Hair was long, in need of washing, and messy. He needed a shave. His clothes were wrinkled. No surprises there. But he had be her age or older. That was unexpected.
"I'm sorry. I was expecting someone a lot younger."
He said, ""In my profession, longevity is proof of how well I do my job. Did you bring some money?"
"I withdrew $9,999 from the bank. Any more would have brought unwanted attention."
"Smart. So what do you want?"
"I have a backpack full of medicine that must get to Mateo. That's a small-"
"Town off the Pan American Highway between Medellin and Cali?"
"Right."
"I happen to be going that way so I can give you a break. Let's say twenty grand. The money you have in your purse, plus one dollar, now and the other half when I come back and present proof that I've been to Mateo."
"I have a problem-"
"Twenty G's."
"I'm taking the drugs. I want you to take me."
"No way, Lady." he got up and went back to the bar.
Sheila sat there extremely depressed and ate chips and salsa. La Cucaracha played in the background, its bouncy rhythm about drove her crazy. She finished her drink and ordered another. She didn't leave because she didn't know how she would get the drugs safely to Doctor Neill without Bird's help. She wasn't going to move until she had formulated plan B, which meant she'd be there for the rest of her natural life because there wasn't any alternative. She went over to the bar and sat next to Bird. Leaning in close to him, she said, "I just sold off three hundred fifty thousand dollars worth of stocks and bonds. I was going to buy a house. But I'll give it all to you if you-"
"Back to your booth," he said.
The server came to take their orders. Bird asked for the taco salad. She had the Fiesta Supreme sampler. "Mucho grande," the waiter said.
"I know," she said, "Another margarita, por favor."
She told Bird about her two failed attempts to get medicine to Mateo. "No offense, but I'm afraid you'll take the medicine and my money. Sell one and keep the other. And I'll never see you again."
He put his left hand, palm up, onto the center of the table. He used the index finger of his right hand to point to the place where the base of his left index finger joined the palm. "This is Medellin." He drew an imaginary line across his palm to the outside bottom. "This is Cali." Another imaginary line led up to the base of his little finger, "Bogota." He retraced the tri-angle again and again as they spoke. "This area is known as the devil's tri-angle, the most dangerous place on earth."
"I know. I was just there."
"The men who robbed the bus were the equivalent of a Los Angeles street gang. Very tough in a civilized world. Nothing compared to the real bad guys operating in Colombia."
She tossed fifty dollars onto the table and stood up, "It was nice meeting you," she said.
"Sit the fuck down," he hissed. "I'll do it for the three fifty. Payable immediately upon our return."
"Good."
"I just want o make sure you know what you're getting yourself into."
"I have no choice. My brother will die if I don't do this."
"Just so we're clear. You're paying me to take you in and, if all goes well, to bring you out. If we get into a scrape, I'm going to look out for myself. You'll have to do the same. Understand?"
She nodded.
"He laughed, "You don't have a clue, but I'll be happy to take you and your money. When do you want to leave?"
"As soon as possible."
"Go home and wait."
"I live-
"I know where you fucking live, Lady."
"My name is Sheila."
He left the table and strolled back to the bar singing the name song. "Sheila fo feela."
He was disgusting. She hated him. She was officially scared.
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