Jack saw Big Al was drinking Taittinger champagne and requested the same. As soon as he was served, Big Al raised his glass and said first in Spanish and then in English, “Here is to the peoples of the world getting to know each other.”

Jack clinked glasses with Big Al and took a sip. When Big Al continued to gulp the entire glass, Jack followed suit.

A waiter standing behind them immediately refilled both glasses. Jack raised his glass and said, “Water separates the people of the world, but wine unites us.”

Big Al laughed and said, “Yes, water like the Rio Grande.” He then translated in Spanish, which elicited a few smiles around the table.

“Señor Jack,” said Big Al, “you have met my nephew … he is handsome like his uncle, yes?”

“Exactly what I was thinking when I walked in,” said Jack.

“We call him El Pero because he is like a dog. Isn’t that right, El Pero?” laughed Big Al, while ruffling El Pero’s hair.

El Pero beamed at the attention he received from his uncle. It was obviously an inside joke, but Jack smiled as if he understood.

The drinking continued, along with general conversation mixed with a few crude jokes while waitresses brought what seemed like a never-ending assortment of different dishes.

As the night progressed, Jack asked if he could have his camera back so he could take some pictures to show his boss how well he was being treated. Big Al readily agreed and had one of his men take a couple of pictures with Jack’s camera.

“That is a good idea,” said Big Al. “I also have some people who would like to know you are having a good time. Jack smiled and posed with drink in hand while several more photographs were taken with cellphone cameras.

Jack tried to act like he was really enjoying himself. A role he found difficult to do while some of the men, laughing with evil delight, groped terrified waitresses and yanked their blouses open to kiss their breasts. The liquor behind the bar was also freely ransacked.

Jack ’s role of portraying a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang left him in a position where such behaviour was to appear acceptable to him, even applauded. The more he was forced to smile and laugh, the more his anger boiled inside him. As the night continued, he found himself frequently checking his watch, wishing the sickening spectacle was over.

It was midnight when Big Al mentioned it was time to leave and go to another place he had reserved.

“Another place?” asked Jack.

“A quieter place to drink and mingle with each other,” he said. “I know some of my men wish to meet you. Your organization has gained a certain popularity it would seem.”

Jack welcomed the chance to meet one of Big Al’s men in particular. The man who sneered and thumbed his nose at the security camera before committing murder.

“Sounds great, but I shouldn’t be too late,” Jack said. “I have to be at a certain gas station in El Paso early tomorrow morning. It has been arranged that my boss will call me there.”

“Ah, I see. That would be Señor Damien,” said Big Al.

“You know him?” asked Jack, feeling his stomach knot.

“No, but his reputation is highly regarded.”

“Yes, I certainly think the world of him. But of course, for now, it is Damien’s idea you only deal through me. We do not want word of this meeting getting out until everything is running smoothly. We don’t want it to cause problems with the people we have been dealing with. There are still some business transactions that haven’t been concluded yet.”

“I understand, amigo. We keep this secret. I only contact you and you speak for Señor Damien. Do not tomorrow … worry in the morning,” said Big Al, whose command of the English language had deteriorated slightly in accordance with the amount he had drank. “I will have my men take you back in time to call the gas station.”

As the entourage walked out of the restaurant, Jack saw the owner of the restaurant thanking Big Al profusely for gracing his restaurant with his presence. A scene Jack found rather pathetic, considering nothing had been paid for.

Jack rode in the back of a silver SUV with Big Al and El Pero sat in the front with a bodyguard who was driving. The rest of Big Al’s men piled into an assortment of other vehicles and formed small parade as they all drove away. Soon their driver decided it was too slow and quickly outdistanced the other vehicles.

As they drove, Jack saw the driver occasionally studying him through the rear-view mirror. Jack didn’t know if it was the man’s penetrating eyes, or how he professionally handled the SUV through the traffic, but his gut instinct told him the man was a police officer. When their eyes locked momentarily, Jack smiled and said hello.

The driver frowned and turned his attention back to the street in front of him.

“He doesn’t speak English very well,” explained Big Al.

Eventually they stopped on the street in front of a small boutique hotel. A minute later, the rest of the entourage arrived. Jack saw the four bodyguards — the same ones who had been at the restaurant earlier — bail out of another SUV and take up positions beside the front door of the hotel. Two of the bodyguards held MAC-10 mini-machine guns and strutted about looking as menacing as they could.

The entire entourage remained parked, blocking traffic, as the passengers casually got out. Nobody waiting had the nerve to show their impatience by blowing their horns.

“I have more men inside,” smiled Big Al as his eyes studied Jack’s face for a response.

Jack nodded politely. He knew Big Al was putting on a show for him. Had the bodyguards really been necessary, their driver would not have broken ranks with the rest of the vehicles and the hotel would have already been secured by bodyguards before they arrived.

Jack was pleased. If he respects me enough to try and impress me, he might be willing to answer a few questions …

The hotel was a two-storey building with a flat roof built in traditional Spanish architecture and had four granite columns across the front. The entire building was painted pink and set off from the rest of the buildings on the street by a lane down each side leading to a parking lot and back alley.

It was when Jack got out of the SUV he noticed the sign on the roof. El Toro Solitario, which in English meant The Lonely Bull.

Big Al slapped him on the back and said, “Remember, tonight everything is my treat. I insist upon it.”

Oh shit … it’s a brothel.

chapter thirty

The lobby floor of the brothel consisted of several clusters of sofas, chairs, and coffee tables. The room was open to the roof. A bar built of teak stretched along one side of the room and on the opposite side, a curved spiral staircase with teak railings led up to the second level where a horseshoe-shaped walkway led to the rooms. Jack counted seven rooms on each side and four rooms across the back. One large chandelier hung down from the centre.

The only patrons were the ones arriving in Big Al’s entourage and it was obvious he had reserved the hotel. The attractive young women, who outnumbered the men two to one, were dressed in an assortment of low-cut dresses or blouses unbuttoned enough to reveal lots of cleavage. Several said hello to Señor Franco, who smiled and clutched Jack’s arm, identifying Jack as his special friend.

Big Al took a seat on a sofa with each arm draped around a prostitute and gestured for Jack to sit on another sofa facing him. Jack remained standing and saw that several of the men were congregating at the bar, including Eduardo and El Burla.

“Big Al,” said Jack, “you mentioned some of your men wanted to meet me. I would like to get to know them, as well. Maybe have a few drinks. Do any of them, besides El Pero and Eduardo, speak English?”