F Paul Wilson - Novel 03 by Virgin (as Mary Elizabeth Murphy) (v2.1)

Which
brings me to the heart of our little talk. You will receive a generous tip
tonight, Fred. An extravagant tip. It is meant to not only seal your lips
tighter than usual, but to erase from your memory everything that occurs from
this moment until you drop me off at LaGuardia."
                  "You're not going to mess up my passenger
area, are you?"
                  "I'm not planning to. But on the subject
of 'messing up,' I feel obliged to give you a warning: In my homeland we have a
way of dealing with someone who has seen too much and talks about it. We cure
him of his affliction by removing his tongue and eyes. Unless we're feeling particularly
merciful, in which case we leave the eyes and take only the eyelids. And the
tongue, of course. The tongue always goes. Do you understand what I am saying,
Fred?"
                  Emilio hoped the driver would not take this as
an empty threat. He knew of no such tradition in Mexico , but that didn't matter. He meant every
word, and would personally do the cutting. And enjoy it.
                  Fred gulped. "Yeah. Loud and clear. No
problem."
                  "Excellent. Then you can look forward to
being hired whenever Senator Crenshaw comes to town."
                  Fred's expression did not exactly reflect
unbridled joy at the prospect. He said, "You want to hit The Dog Collar
now?"
                  Emilio folded the stiletto blade and put it
away. "Yes. Immediately."
                  As they drove on in silence, Emilio hoped the senador had some plan for Charlie, some
solution for the threat he posed. For he was indeed a threat. In order to be
President, the senador first had to
be nominated by his party. And in order to secure that nomination, he had to
run in primary elections in various states. Emilio had studied all this in his
civics lessons for his citizenship test, and he'd heard the senador discuss it numerous times, but
none of it made much sense. However, one thing that did make sense was that
many of those primary states were in regions of the country where the right
kind of rumor could tilt a close race the wrong way. And if the primaries were
going to be as hotly contested as the experts were predicting, having a maricon son might be the kiss of
political death.
                  But there seemed to be more to it than that.
The senador seemed obsessed with
finding Charlie and keeping him under wraps. Emilio didn't understand.
                  What he did understand was that whatever kept
the senador from the White House also
kept Emilio from the White House.
                  The White House. It had become Emilio's dream.
                  Not to become President. That was to laugh.
But for Emilio Sanchez to accompany the senador to the world's center of power, that was the ultimate spit in the eye to
the many throughout his life who had said he'd go nowhere, be nothing unless he
changed his ways.
                But I never changed, Emilio thought. And look at me now. I am the most
trusted aide of United States Senator Arthur Crenshaw. I am riding in a stretch
limo through New York City . I have my pick of the women in the Senate Building in Washington . I own my own Coupe de Ville. And I'm still
moving up. Up!
                  Even now he loved to drive his shiny Cadillac
back to his native Tijuana and park in front of the old haunts. Pay some street tonto to guard the car while he went
inside and watched their eyes go wide and round as he flashed his money and
rings and bought a round for the house.
                  In the span of a few heartbeats the word would
get around: Emilio's back! Emilio's back! So that when he strolled the narrow streets the children would follow and
call his name like a deity and beg for his attention. And not far behind them
would be their mothers and older sisters, doing the