Dying Art. Don Pendleton

      “Gordo,” Don Fernando said.

      The giant stepped over and pulled the blindfold out of his pocket.

      Sinclair winced. “Not that thing again.”

      Don Fernando laughed and blew some smoke in the other man’s face. “I’m afraid it is once again necessary. But do not worry. I trust Gordo with my life, so I have no problem trusting him with yours, as well.”

      Before Sinclair could reply, the giant was slapping the blindfold in place. After securing it, he lifted the lawyer out of the chair and walked him to the companionway. Instead of guiding the man up the steps, Gordo merely hoisted Sinclair off his feet and ascended the stairs himself, carrying the other man as if he were hauling a bag of groceries.

      Don Fernando listened to their footsteps on the deck above, and then watched as they descended the gangplank to the pier and walked toward the waiting limousine.

      A frown curled down the ends of Don Fernando’s mouth. He waved Tragg over to the table.

      “After Sergio is free,” Don Fernando said, “kill that fat bastard.”

      “What about the money?”

      “I do not care about the money,” Don Fernando said. “I do not like loose ends.”

      “Not a problem,” Tragg said.

      “Where do we stand on this other matter? The woman? The daughter of the reporter.”

      “We’ve got a lead on where she might be,” Tragg said. “I’ve got some of my men working on tracking her down now, but Cancun’s a big place.”

      Don Fernando drew quickly on the cigar and then exhaled the smoke. “This is clumsiness. I do not like clumsiness.”

      “She and her father were being protected by the marines. As you know, they’re not pushovers.”

      “I pay you well to handle such problems,” Don Fernando says. “Do I not?”

      “Yes, but—”

      The cartel leader cut him off with a dismissive gesture, keeping the fire in his eyes. “I care nothing for excuses. Only for results. You are supposed to be professionals, no?”

      “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it personally.”

      Don Fernando considered that, then shook his head. “No, use no more than two of your men. I will send some of my men with them. They will mix in better with the locals. I want you to accompany Maria and that fat lawyer back to Chicago. Be certain your squad is totally prepared and ready. There must be no mistakes. And remember, Sergio is your main concern.” He pointed to a locked metal briefcase on the floor a few feet away. “And take that with you. You’ll need it to deal with the other American.”

      Tragg glanced at the case. “I’ll take good care of it.”

      “I care nothing for it. It is only a means to an end. But use it wisely. When dealing with the American, remember the parable about the grapes being so much sweeter when they were just out of reach.”

      As Tragg stood and turned to leave, the drug boss stopped him. “Have your men find out what the woman knows first. And find that laptop. We must be certain that our plan is still in place.”