Missing by Hawken Sam

Author:Hawken, Sam [Hawken, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Profile Books
Published: 2014-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

GONZALO DROVE WITH THE WINDOWS down and Jack sweated freely as they cruised the block, looking for something Gonzalo had not shared, but which was important enough for them to circle the same streets again and again.

Finally Jack asked, ‘What are we doing?’

‘We were being followed,’ Gonzalo said.

Jack looked behind them reflexively, but he saw nothing except another car and a truck laden with a pile of broken furniture tied down with rope. ‘Followed?’ he said.

Gonzalo nodded. The reflection from the rear-view mirror painted a band of silver across his face. ‘For a little while. After I doubled back a few times they got tired of trailing us. Probably thugs looking to make an easy score. We get carjackings through here all the time. Sometimes there’s violence.’

‘Shit,’ Jack said.

They reached a familiar intersection, but this time Gonzalo did not turn and they continued on. After a few minutes he slowed the car and slotted it in along a broken curb in front of a string of dusty shops, half of which were shuttered and empty. Gonzalo didn’t bother to put up the windows. The car would bake in the sun anyway, but at least it wouldn’t turn into a furnace. He tossed a towel over the steering wheel. ‘There’s a bar up here,’ Gonzalo said. ‘We’ll go and have a beer and if the right person is there, we’ll talk.’

They passed along the shabby storefronts and past the open doors of a laundromat. A couple of dried-up-looking women lurked in the partially lit lavandería and as Jack walked by they watched him with hard eyes. He tried to ignore them.

The bar was fronted with black-painted wood and had the words bebidas, vino and cerveza stenciled by the door. If the place had a name, it wasn’t printed anywhere Jack could see.

Inside there was the smell of stale beer and cigarettes. The bar had a pool table and a darkened jukebox and a scattering of tables to go with a pair of booths. It was practically deserted, with just the bartender and two other customers in sight. A big yellow-neon Corona sign crested the bartender’s head like a halo.

‘Hey, hombre,’ Gonzalo said to the bartender. ‘¿Qué pasa?’

‘Not much,’ the bartender said. He looked past Gonzalo to Jack and Jack could almost see his face closing up. Suddenly he wished he wasn’t here and had let Gonzalo go alone.

‘A beer for me and my friend,’ Gonzalo said.

‘The cooler’s broken. It’s gonna be warm.’

‘Warm beer is okay with me. Come on, Jack, sit down.’

Jack took a stool beside Gonzalo at the bar while the bartender filled pint glasses. The man put the fresh beers in front of them and there was no pleasant wetness on the glass, no rings on the bar. When Jack sipped, it was like drinking blood.

‘I’m looking for Aarón,’ Gonzalo said.

‘You see everyone who’s here,’ the bartender replied.

‘Don’t bullshit me,’ Gonzalo said. ‘Where is he?’

‘Who is this one?’ the bartender asked, and he jerked a thumb at Jack.

‘A friend.

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