The Guardian by Robbie Cheuvront and Erik Reed Page A

more than all right. Roberto could overlook anything for that much money. “Sure, Mr. Jack. Whatever you want.”
    “Let’s go.” The man took off his hat and threw the cabbie another hundred-dollar bill. “Don’t know why your friend there keeps calling me Jack. I told him three times my name was Bill!” The man called Jack, or
Bill
, leaned over the backseat and pulled the stack of bills from his pocket once more.
    Pulling out three crisp one–hundred-dollar bills, he leaned into the front seat. “So where did you take them?”
    “Downtown,” the cabbie quickly answered, eyeing the cash. “You want to go there?”
    “Yes I do.”
    Roberto walked away, shaking his head and fingering his cash. He hoped the girl would be fine—there was something suspicious about the man. But as he slid the bills into his pocket, his mind filled with how to spend the windfall. The Americana would just have to look after herself.
    The driver took “Bill” to the same location he had brought his previous passengers. He pulled around to the side of the hotel as Bill instructed him to do and put the car in Park.
    Bill got out of the cab’s backseat and opened the driver’s door. “Get out.”
    “Please! I am just cab driver. I know nothing. I don’t want know anything,” the driver said with a nervous twitch in his voice.
    Bill swallowed his rage. Third world cab drivers were all as dumb as dirt. “Calm down, chief. I’m not stealing your cab. I just want to show you something.”
    The cabbie reluctantly opened his door and stepped out.
    Bill stood against the cab, hiding his face from the street and passersby behind them. He pulled out another stack of bills and began to peel them off. “This is two thousand American dollars.” Predictably, the cabbie’s eyes lit at the sight of the cash. “Tomorrow, I have a friend who’s coming into town. It’s very important that he find me. Do you understand?” The cabbie’s head bobbed up and down. “Good. He will arrive at gate 6. He will be looking for a cab driver wearing this hat.” He pulled a brown baseball hat out of his bag. “Tomorrow, put the hat on and wait for him. Only him. No other fares. You understand?” Again the cabbie nodded. “Good. Gate 6. Pick him up and bring him here, and there’s another two grand waiting for you.” He closed the gap between them and poked his finger into the cabbie’s chest. “And if you want to keep that money or get the rest, you’d better keep your mouth shut! You got that?”
    The cabbie stretched out his hand and took the cash. “Your friend … I will pick him up. I say nothing to nobody. I drop him off right here!”
    “Good.” Bill turned to walk away. “Make sure you wear the hat.”

CHAPTER 10
Caracas Airport, Venezuela
    J onathan stepped off the jetway and into the airport, feeling the assault of the ridiculous humidity that plagued this part of the world. He hated foreign countries, especially third world foreign countries.
    He made his way out to the taxi stand and looked for the driver wearing the familiar baseball hat. He had a stiff neck from trying to sleep on the plane, he was tired, and he hadn’t had his breakfast yet. Only one of those things was, in itself, usually enough to get anyone who looked at him crossways a one-way ticket to the afterlife. Today, however, he was on a tight schedule. He didn’t have time for pettiness.
    For that reason, he ignored the fat Latino man who continued to give him a piece of his mind as he cut his way through the line. The fat man had more bags than he could carry and was trying to get into the cab that Jonathan knew was reserved for him.
    “I’m sorry, sir.” Jonathan spoke pleasantly to the man. “I’m afraid I’ve called ahead to reserve this particular taxi. See there?”
    Then to the driver, “Nice hat. A friend of mine has one just like it. Name’s Jonathan.” He grabbed his hand and shook it, passing the driver a few crisp bills.
    The driver