David Lindsey - The Rules of Silence

The parking lot was a cluster of small multicar pockets carved out of the dense cedars and connected by a gravel drive. There were no lights in the parking area, so as soon as you left the ambit of the restaurant's illumination, most of which was provided by lanterns hanging in the courtyards, you were gradually absorbed into the darkness.

At nine-thirty, when Calo and Baas drove into the parking area, the restaurant was in full swing, a typical Friday night. They drove through the parking area looking for either of the Navigators, but neither was there. They found a parking spot that afforded them a view of the entrance to the restaurant as well as the approach from the highway, turned off the motor and lights, and settled in to wait.

“Okay, we're in place, ”Calo said into his mike, then got a confirmation through his earpiece. He leaned forward and adjusted the LorGuide mapper under the dash. He could see the yellow signal of Macias's blue Navigator headed toward them and Titus's yellow signal on the way as well. But he was behind Macias.

“Okay, the first screwup is shaping up, ”he said sarcastically. “Looks like Macias is going to get here first.”

“Wonderful. ”Baas had nightvision binoculars pressed to his eyes and was concentrating on the long tunnel of trees that led from the highway.

“Macias has turned off the highway, ”Calo said.

“And there he is, ”Baas said. “Blue Navigator.”

Calo put his binoculars to his eyes as well.

“Two… three heads, ”Baas said. “Yeah, definitely three.”

Silence as they watched the Navigator roll into the parking area, hesitate, and then begin making its way toward the back spaces, where they slowly pulled into a spot and cut the engine.

“They're talking, ”Calo said, slumped down in the car, his eyes glued to the binoculars as he peeped over the dash.

The Navigator's front passenger door opened and the bodyguard got out.

“Shit! He's hand-holding night goggles, ”Baas said.

The man began walking along, looking into the cars.

“Okay, ”Calo 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 passed 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,” Calo 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.

Calo 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. Calo 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 Calo backed out of their parking space 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 Calo 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 Calo 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 Calo's taillights. Calo got out, too, leaving his door open as he stepped to the back of the car.

“Shit, ”Calo swore. “What the hell? ”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 Calo an incredulous “What the hell's this? ”look.

“Yeah, two feet, ”Calo said, deliberately avoiding Spanish, “you're sticking out two feet here, for Christ's sake. ”He kicked the Navigator's bumper.

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? ”Calo 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 Calo'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 Calo.

Without warning Calo 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 Calo'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. Calo 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.

Just before he turned off the highway, Titus 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 Titus to have been there first, but it wasn't crucial.

Fine, Titus 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 Titus 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.

Titus 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, “Titus, it's great to see you.”

Titus 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.”