Page 16 of The Perfect Stranger

“Arms up,” the large man instructed. I was six-foot-three and well-built, yet this guy was still three times the size of me in every direction. His face resembled a Bullmastiff dog and a thick, still pink scar lined his face from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. After a quick frisk, ensuring we were void of weapons, the Bullmastiff grunted his approval and we were allowed inside. The men, one on either end, walked us up a narrow flight of stairs.

The upper floor was opened spaced, and unlike the outside it was clean and well furnished, the lighting dark and moody. Cabinets lined the walls containing a dozen different styles of Glocks, sniper rifles, machine guns, close contact weapons, and explosives. It was an enthusiast’s heaven.

“Antonio?” The man I presumed to be Enrique stepped forward, hands by his side, no hint of a friendly handshake. He was straight-laced, face void of all tell-tale emotion. “It’s a long way from the land of plenty. What brings you here? Looking to start a war on my side?”

“I have business to take care of across the border.”

“La Balsa?”

I paused, not knowing if revealing the truth could jeopardize the mission.

“Yes.”

“Relax.” A hint of a smile twitched his lips. “Zero informed me just enough, the rest I put together myself. It’s a terrible thing.” He said the last part with such stoicism it was hard to believe he had any level of empathy. “If you listen carefully, on the southerly winds, you can hear their cries, smell the smoke.”

I swallowed hard knowing each second I was here discussing the battle, more lives were being lost.

“Listen,” Enrique said, inhaling deeply. “Fact is, I have a long-standing relationship with Los Santos. Our business together has been a profitable venture on both sides. But…” he paused while pouring himself a shot of rum, “…that’s changed now. I do not tolerate liars and those so eager to deceive. As it stands, our relationship is crippled to the point where we are both all too happy to see the other dead.”

This was good news.

“So, Antonio.” He studied me hard. “You have your choice of arms with one condition.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

“You put an end to the Santos rule.”

“Done.”

Enrique laughed hard before downing the liquor. “Hold up American…” his face hardened, “…I want proof. Proof that Luis and Gabriel Santos are no longer breathing.”

“I can assure you, we have the same objectives. You want proof. I’ll happily provide it to you.”

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