David Levien - City of the Sun

“ Todos saben — ” he began, asking whether the guards knew to be vigilant.

“Sн, patrуn.” Esteban quarter turned, ready to go back to his work.

Ponceterra could see that Esteban had everything in hand. The policнa would stay far away, as arranged, and on the off chance the men who had been inquiring found the rancho, his security was well ready for them. Beyond that he knew that Esteban would learn who these men were, even if they never came, and he would hunt them down. Esteban would follow their trail over road, over river and rocky ground, and even across borders, until he killed them in their own beds if Don Ramon so ordered it. He nodded for Esteban to continue and closed the door. He would wait at the rancho until Esteban was done, but he felt the pull from the room down the hall. Perhaps just a short visit, some quiet time together, he thought, since I ’ m here.

The screams had just stopped, and the silence was more horrible than even the noise. He gripped his weapon, scraping the edge more quickly on the cinder block. Then he heard footsteps and stopped. He stood and looked at the sharp point he had created. It seemed there was no more time. It would have to do.

They drove in silence. The coming dusk finally brought promise of cooler air that spilled in the open car windows. The final period of waiting had passed as a painful, nearly physical trial. They had handed the binoculars back and forth between them many times, Behr trying to see for himself what Paul had witnessed and Paul trying to see it again.

“You ’ re sure?” Behr had asked over and over, until Paul had stopped answering. Paul had checked the repeated urge to rush down on the place. He put his trust in Behr ’ s judgment that dusk was the best time for them to make their move.

“It won ’ t work, us just rambling in and kicking up dust as we go straight at the place,” Behr said.

They had used the cover of the rise, driving behind it until it ran out and then tracked north and east in a big loop that kept them out of sight of the compound. Once they had traveled perhaps a dozen miles they tacked left and began looking for the dirt road that would lead them in the conventional way they ’ d seen other vehicles arrive.

Paul ’ s mind raced and his heart hammered as they drove. He had a thousand questions fighting in his brain and the result was that none reached his tongue. He looked over at Behr ’ s left hand gripping the steering wheel as he stared intently out the wind-shield, only turning occasionally to check their coordinates in the desert by instinct like a seasoned mariner in familiar waters.

“Frank,” Paul finally asked after a moment, “how did you get the password?”

“It ’ s not important,” he said.

“No?” Paul ’ s eyes were on Behr ’ s left wrist, now naked of his watch. Behr saw this and switched hands on the wheel.

“It ’ s not important,” Behr said again.

The car bounced low into the ditch that ran alongside the road, then the suspension gathered and they surged up onto the surface. It had appeared like magic, a line dissecting the empty wasteland that stretched endlessly in all directions. Behr spun the wheel and made the left turn as if he was pulling into his driveway. They drove on, nothingness ahead of them, until it seemed they would continue on forever into an endless void. And then, sticking up out of the desert like antennae, they saw the light poles. Paul swallowed. Behr ’ s hand tightened on the steering wheel like he was trying to wring an elixir from it. The coiled wire atop the fence came into view next, and after that the whole place. They could see the two vehicles they had seen arrive from their vantage point: the pickup and the well-kept Cadillac Eldorado. Wandering over from one side of the entrance came the gate guard, the day man every bit as large as his nighttime counterpart.

“Hopefully he speaks some English and we can use this password. Otherwise…”

Paul nodded. He glanced at the backseat, where a. 12-gauge pump shotgun rested beneath a beach towel.

“Smile. We ’ ve been here before.”

They stuck wide grins on their faces and Behr raised a hand in greeting.

Ponceterra entered the room where he ’ d been keeping the rubio. He was already shucking his shooting jacket as he kicked the door shut. The room was at least twice as large as any other and easily the nicest one in the place. He was losing potential profits by not having the room in use, his concession to his heart, but it would be worth it when finally things had begun. He felt his own inner clock racing and wondered how long he would be able to remain patient. He looked at the rubio, who took a single step toward him. Hope sprung alive in him and he felt his mouth wet with anticipation. The boy crossed the room toward him. Perhaps his patience had paid off. The rubio was finally coming close.

“ їQuй pasa? ” Behr said to the gate guard, a large man with narrow, suspicious eyes.

“ Buenas, seсores, ” the guard answered. “ їQuй quieren ustedes aquн? ” He had only opened the gate enough for himself to step up to the driver ’ s window.

“Ah,” said Behr. “ Quiero visitar…Hablas inglйs? ” The guard shrugged. Behr, running out of Spanish quickly, went on in English. “We ’ re sportsmen. Clients. їEntiendes? Our friends brought us here before.” Behr produced his last hundred-dollar bill. The guard took it, his eyes narrowing further. But he didn ’ t open the gate for them. Instead he put his hand on his pistol. It was clear the man knew someone unwelcome might be coming.

“Get out the fucking car,” he said, and when Behr hesitated, he kicked the door.

“Easy. Easy there, friend,” Behr said, slowly pushing open the car door to step out. “ Pajarito. That ’ s what we said last time. I should have said that first. Pajarito.” Behr waited for the password to have an effect. It was not the one he expected. “ їProblema? ” he asked. As he spoke, the guard began to draw the gun.

Paul saw the sap Behr shielded with his body as he got out of the car. He had not yet risen to his full height when he swung the sap and connected. The guard ’ s teeth flew through the air like popping corn. The man sagged back a few steps, ropes of blood falling from his mouth to the dusty ground near where he ’ d dropped his gun. Most men, inexperienced in these matters, would panic and crumple from the pain of the blow. This man gathered himself, turned back toward Behr, and advanced.

Targets. Behr ’ s mind ’ s eye went wide, seeing the man as a whole, not looking at any part of him in particular. Knees. Groin. Bladder. Ulnas. Saphenous. The man drew into range and Behr flew at him, closing the rest of the distance, allowing him no space. He raked the man ’ s eyes. It was not a hard blow, but his fingers made contact with an eyeball, gouging deep. The guard ’ s hands flew up to his face. Behr went up the middle with a swinging kick and caught the guard full in the testicles with his shin. The man was suffering involuntary spinal reactions now, and no amount of training or practical experience could help him. He doubled over at the waist, hands going to his groin, his chin extended. Behr passed on the chin and instead delivered the sap to the side of the guard ’ s neck. It sounded a dull thwack as it caught the vagus nerve. The man shut off and landed heavily on the ground. Behr stepped over him, rolled him to the side, pushed the gate open, and headed back to the car, where Paul had slid behind the wheel.

The time was now. All sound and thought fell away. He felt small and weak and that it would be easy for him to die. But he did not care anymore. Across the small expanse from him the Fancy Man babbled in Spanish and smiled. He wanted more than anything to erase that smile. He forced his feet and body to move in a single direction. The smile bloomed bigger on the Fancy Man ’ s face but froze when he saw it coming. His hand rose up from behind his thigh, where he ’ d hidden it. He drove the sharpened spoon handle into the Fancy Man ’ s heart. Or what would have been the heart if he ’ d had a proper weapon. As it was, the sharpened spoon handle lodged in bone and the remnants of muscle that covered the Fancy Man ’ s wretched organ. The man screamed the high-pitched shriek of a woman that dissolved into pained snorts.