The Border. Don winslow
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“Not hard enough.”
“What do you want me to do?” Chandler asks.
“Bring us something we can use,” Hidalgo says. “New York’s fed up with your act. They’re going to prosecute.”
“They can’t do that,” Claiborne says. “We have a deal.”
“Which you haven’t lived up to.”
“I’ve been doing my best.”
“Bullshit, you have,” Hidalgo says. “You’ve been playing us. You think you’re so much smarter than a bunch of dumb cops who buy their suits off the rack, and you probably are. You’re so smart you’re going to smart your way right into a cell. You’re going to love the room service in Attica, motherfucker.”
“No, give me a chance.”
“You had your chance. We’re done.”
“Please.”
Hidalgo pretends to think about it. Then he says, “All right, let me get on the phone, see what I can do. But no promises.”
He gets up, walks out of the car and stands in the next one for a couple of minutes. Then he walks back in and says, “I bought you a little more time. But not, like, infinity. You give us something we can use, or I let New York hump you.”
Keller takes a call from Admiral Orduña.
“That kid you’re looking for,” Orduña says, “we might have a sighting.”
“Where?”
“Guerrero,” Orduña says. “Does that make any sense?”
“No,” Keller says. But when has anything to do with Chuy Barajos made any sense?
They’re not sure it’s him, Orduña says, but one of his people in Guerrero was surveilling a group of student radicals at a local college and spotted a young man hanging around the fringes who meets the description, and he heard one of the students call him Jesús.
Could be anybody, Keller thinks. “What college?”
Chuy never finished high school.
“Hold on,” Orduña says, checking his notes. “Ayotzinapa Rural Teachers’ College.”
“Never heard of it.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I don’t suppose your guy—”
“It’s on its way, cuate.”
Keller stares at his computer screen.
Christ, the odds are …
The photo comes across.
Keller sees a short, scrawny kid in torn jeans, sneakers and a black ball cap. His hair is long and unkempt.
The photo is a little blurry, but there’s no question.
It’s Chuy.
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