The deaths of Jose and Antonio had driven Manuel into a frenzy. They were the arms and legs that made his name feared throughout Tijuana, not to be easily replaced.
According to the periodicos, the two had killed each other in a senseless fight. True, they hadn't any fondness for each other, but there was no reason for them to fight.
Of course, and that was one of the reasons Manuel was chewing his fingernails to the quick in his upstairs room, if the police knew about that Americano they would think of another possibility.
But Jose and Antonio were not paragons of virtue. And the police would be quick to close the books on the matter, happy to stamp the word muerte across their files.
If it were not for other things to be considered, he, Manuel Ramos, would finish this thing personally. Only… and that only was what glued Manuel to his chair… only right now was not the time for a flea to move wrong. With two kidnapped American women upstairs and the two Uruguayans with their suitcase full of merchandise in the other room, police interference was not desirable.
Manuel shrugged into his charro jacket and looked at himself critically in the mirror, admiring his clean profile and classical Roman nose. It had done very well for him in the past – captivating the ladies.
He smiled and the image in the glass smiled back, showing lustrous white teeth. It was his fortune, really. It was something nobody could take away from him.
Stepping into the other room he told the two men to come with him and they could watch the demonstration. Manuel's skin prickled slightly over that. The women were not quite ready, but he couldn't take any more time, because of the low state of his finances. So he must take a chance on them. But not without precautions! Those he had taken. Si!
Alex spent twenty minutes pacing around the building, keeping well to the shadows and out of sight. The second time around he returned to the back window which was open a fraction to let in the cool, night air.
At first it wouldn't budge. He heaved futilely, straining his arm muscles trying to slide the warped wood up. In the darkness around him he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. There was no place to hide, so he simply froze, hoping against fate that it was a casual stroller.
The sound stopped and the walker was still out of sight. Alex's hands were sweating as he waited, counting the seconds off. Then there was the patter of a steady stream of water striking the dusty ground, a grunt half way between an "ah" of relief and a belch, then the sound of a zipper closing.
Moments later the footsteps went away.
Alex attacked the window again. This time the frame gave way and slid part way up, but once again it stopped and wouldn't budge, no matter how much he cursed its ancestry. He measured the gap ruefully with his eye, deciding that maybe he could make it through.
Swinging his legs through first he sat on the sill, muttered a silent prayer that he wouldn't land on an occupied bed, and made the plunge.
The room was pitch black, but empty. Alex tried to close the window, but once again it resisted his most strenuous efforts and he decided to leave things as they were, rather than risk any further delay.
The door was unlocked and he stepped into the corridor and within seconds had found his way to the central room.
It was crowded tonight. The normal dirty movies were going full swing and the place seemed to be packed with American sailors.
Alex eyed the stairs. He was sure what he was after was up there. Last time, no one had gone up the stairway. And again, tonight, the steps remained barren of traffic. Furtively, he started edging his way toward the stairs. He'd wait until something caught everyone's attention on the screen and it should give him the few seconds he needed.
He had almost reached his goal when he looked up, and his heart almost stopped. Two women and a man were on the stairs blocking his way up. If he didn't move away immediately, they were going to bump into him. It would mean giving up that precious time he had used up already.
As he moved he suddenly realized he was giving up nothing.
The dark haired girl turned her head and Alex stopped breathing for a moment. His gamble had paid off. There was no question, it was Renee!
As they came down the stairs he guessed that the other girl was Fran. She was blonde, but Alex didn't remember her well enough to be positive of her identity.
At the foot of the stairs the man, a stranger to Alex, gave the two women a brief talking to. They nodded their heads slowly. And then he left them to merge into the crowd in the room.
The two women walked almost hesitantly into the hot, packed mass of men, breathing in their masculine odor and trembling before the massed virility they represented.
Almost immediately, a man had pulled Fran down to his lap and was fondling her. She submitted to it in an almost neutral fashion, quivering slightly as his hand roved under her skirt.
And then Alex stuck his hand out and caught Renee's arm and turned her toward him.
Renee and Fran had both been coached by Manuel about what they were going to do. No matter what it looked like down there, they should know that he controlled the situation, that there was no escape.
They walked down the stairs with the doorman and he hissed at them to do as they were ordered, before melting into the crowd.
When the man took Fran, Renee shuddered, realizing it was her turn next and that in seconds she would be selling her body to prove her docility so that Manuel could sell her body forever. And there was no escape.
The hand that grabbed her arm stopped her heart for a nervous second. And then it was beating just a little faster than normal as she turned to face Manuel's counterfeit customer.
Renee gasped and her heart almost did stop. It was Alex. The man she had trusted. The one she worried about because somehow she had gotten him in this mess. Then she bite her lip, concealing her rage and horror.
Alex pulled her to him and kissed her. "Look," he said, "is there someplace we can talk?"
She turned and led him back to the room that was waiting. The room that she knew Manuel and his friends were sitting over, looking into with strategically drilled peep holes. And all she knew was that she wanted to die in the face of this last betrayal! Salt tears ran down her cheeks, and she didn't see the bewildered Mexican stand up behind them, wondering what he was going to do now that this gringo had taken the girl he was supposed to have.