Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [105]
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No one was home at Luis Abrego’s apartment in National City, but I wasn’t too concerned. If I didn’t find him waiting to arrange one of his coyote jobs at the Tradewinds, I could always contact Vic at the Holiday Market. I left the car in front of the apartment building and walked the few blocks to the bar. The streets were pretty much deserted; even on Highland traffic was so light that I could hear the rattle and hum of the Tradewinds’ air conditioners at a fair distance. Inside, the bar was as dark and smoky and crowded as it had been the last time I was there; Abrego sat on the same stool, idly watching a Padres game on the big-screen TV. Again a hush fell over the room as I entered; Luis looked around to see what had caused it, saw me, and got up, grinning. Immediately the rest of the patrons lost interest and resumed their conversations.
I took the stool next to him; he offered to buy me a drink, and I asked for a club soda. When it came I drank half of it down, feeling a rush of cold as it hit my empty stomach. If I was to get through the rest of the day, I’d have to eat sometime. Maybe some fast food on my way back to Tijuana.
Abrego said, “You cut your hair since last week. You’re looking better, too.”
“That’s because I found my friend. He’s not dead, after all.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So who’s the guy Salazar shot?”
“I’ll tell you the whole story someday. Right now I need some information from you—the name of somebody in Colonia Libertad.” It was the poorest section of Tijuana, where things and people were bought and sold cheap.
“Why?”
“I need somebody to help some people get where they need to go.”
“Your friend?”
“And two others, maybe three.”
He seemed to understand that one of the others would be me. “You’re Americans. You should be able to clear the border control. Or are you bringing in something illegal?”
“Nothing illegal. It’s not Customs I’m worried about. There may be somebody waiting for us on the T.J. side.”
“That’s bad.”
“Yes, you know how it is there. You’re in a car, standing in gridlock; a person with a rifle on the other side of the fence in Colonia Libertad can pick you off easily. If you’re on foot, it’s even more dangerous: you’re closer to the fence, funneled through that outdoor corridor before the customs building. Then there’s that long inside corridor before you come to the officials; anybody can slip inside, fire a round, run back out.”
“You really think somebody’s gonna go after you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I can’t go into it now.”
He considered. “So why don’t you just cross at Tecate or Calexico? Or fly?”
“If they have somebody at San Ysidro, they’ll cover those places and the airport, too. And we’d be in even more danger then, because I don’t know the territory.”
Luis was silent, sipping beer. “This have to do with Salazar?”
“Among others.”
Again he considered for a moment. “You know, I don’t like to cross over, even though I got my permanent green card. Man with my sideline—well, you know how that goes. But this time I could see my way to it. I owe you.”
“Why?”
“Ana. She went to that doctor John gave me the name of. Remember I said something was wrong with the pregnancy? Well, there was. Female stuff, I don’t understand it, don’t want to, but the doctor said if she hadn’t’ve come in when she did, she’d’ve been bad off. The doctor, that Gina, she kept Ana there in the clinic a couple of days, took care of her real good. Charged just what Ana had, two hundred ninety-five bucks. She’s on her way home now.”
Immediately I realized that John had taken care of any fees over and above that. What a good guy, my big brother.
“So I owe you,” Luis added. “I’ll bring you and your friends through.”
I couldn’t let him do it. “No, you don’t owe me that much. We’ll be even if you give me a name.”
“You’d be better off with me.”
“But you wouldn’t be better off getting involved in this. I want you here, for the