Page 92 of The Doctor's Twins

“Of course,” I said and hugged her.

“Thank you, Ben,” Frank said and patted my shoulder.

Frank had begged me to come along, but I insisted he stay behind and protect his family. Who knew what Mateo had planned. After much fuss, he’d agreed to stay.

“Please, tell Madison not to worry, Craig.”

“Thanks, Ben. Will do.”

“I’ll bring her back,” I promised and got into the car.

* * *

It was just past midnight when we pulled into Mexico City.

“We need to stop off at a friend’s,” Sam announced. “He has put together a little goody bag for each of us.”

“I hope it’s a heavily ladened bag,” I said.

“Oh, yes. Santiago doesn’t fuck around when it comes to weapons. He isn't the number one gun store owner in the capitol for nothing.”

“How do you know this guy?” I asked.

“He and I met at a weapons convention. He’s a crazy mother fucker, but I wouldn’t bet against him in a gunfight.”

“Are you sure we can trust him, Sam?”

“Ben, I’d stake my life on it. He’s as loyal as the day is long. Besides, he owes me a favor. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over a beer someday.”

“Deal.”

Sam parked in a side street in an industrial-looking area.

“There’s the back entrance to the store. Come along, Ben. Time to go shopping.”

“I should have brought my fucking sword,” I mumbled.

A bullet seemed far too impersonal considering the caliber of vermin we were hunting. I wanted to look Mateo square in the eye when I sent him off to his doom. But a gun made more sense under the circumstances.

Sam rapped his knuckles on the door. A stocky man with gold in his teeth opened and ushered us in. He led us to the back of the store and into an office.

“Sam, mi compadre,” a man sitting on a desk called out happily.

“Santiago, you crazy Mexican bastard! How are you, pal?”

The two men embraced, slapped each other’s backs, and laughed like best friends do.

“It’s good to see you, Santiago, but we’re going to have to catch up later. Ben here has a lady he needs to rescue.”

“Si. I’m sorry to hear of your trouble, Ben,” Santiago said in a thick accent. “Don’t worry, I’ve got something here that will help you sort this asshole out,” he said and pointed to a bag in the corner of the room.

“Ah! Excellent,” Sam said and opened the bag.

“We’re not robbing a bank, are we?” I asked when I saw the weapons.

“Maybe later,” Santiago laughed.

“You’re a pal,” Sam said and closed the bag. “I’ll get the ones we don’t use back to you, buddy. The weapons that deliver the kill shots I’ll dispose of.”

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