The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) by Patrick Astre Page A

follows him outside, his wife trying to hold him back, his kids crying, but Raff, he's proud, he's a Pobre , a poor one, but he's proud. He tells Toro that he owes him thirty Pesos for the repair on the boots. Thirty Pesos, that's less than those cheap sunglasses I wear. Toro, he turns around, that fucking Maricone , he sticks him with his knife, in the gut. Raff, he goes down to his knees, his wife screams, she runs out to Raff, he's dying, she tries to push away Toro, but she's small, she hits him in the face, he pushes her hard, she falls down and when she tries to get up, Rat pulls out his shiny silver Colt revolver and shoots her. Three times, Bang, Bang, Bang, in the head. The kids screaming and crying, both parents dead. It wasn't over the thirty Pesos you see, it was because they just wanted to kill them. Just for nothing, or maybe to let us all know they could."
    Daniels listened in silence. He remembered from his briefing the three most dangerous men in the Durand brothers' crew. It was Hector Durand, Miguel Aquilino and Chuko, El Toro. Diego Durand was the business head, the accountant with no taste for bloodshed. His brother and his two lieutenants more than made up for it.
    The vicious cruelty of Carlos' story had sickened him. He tasted the dust in his mouth and smelled the misery of the surrounding countryside.
    "What about the Police?"
    Carlos laughed and spat out the window.
    "That's another set of Maricones . The Judiciales come and they investigate. They get their payroll from Diego Durand. It's a joke. They call it a fight between husband and wife. They write it up like she stabbed him and he shot her."
    Carlos' voice became calmer as they approached town.
    " Que Lastima," what a pity. "So you see, when Miguel Aquilino, El Toro and his Maricone friend Rat, when they walk into my cantina one night, what can I do? They say, Carlos, you play cards with us. I say no. I die. I know what they want, I seen them looking at my little sister Rosa, but what can I do? I played card. They cheated. I lost. I owe them Mucho , Mucho Dinero . They know I'll never pay it back, there's no way I can. There isn't that much money in Zacotacas."
    Daniels turned behind the Cantina and parked the Landrover. They sat in the car a few moments more, Daniels' eyes hidden behind the sunglasses.
    " Dios Mio , it's not like I'm one of your tourists in Las Vegas. One of those Cabrons who gambles more money than they have. That's just their way of saying they own us, me, Rosa, Mama. If we don't get out we're dead, all of us, or I work for them. That only lasts so long. Until they decide they want Rosa, then I die."
    They entered the Cantina from the back, Carlos leading the way into a corridor connected to a thin wooden door. The door opened into a smoky kitchen. Odors of grilled meat and spices wafted out as an angel walked into the hallway.
    Daniels stopped and realized he was staring. The child was about thirteen or fourteen. Her black hair gleamed around a small rose arranged just over her left ear. Daniels thought he had never seen such beauty anywhere. The child's features were exquisite perfection, golden alabaster skin and features that would grow to match any world-class model. Large dark eyes looked at Daniels with innocent expectation.
    "Rosa," said Carlos, "say hello to my friend."
    Her voice was a sweet symphony of lilting Spanish. Daniels smiled and returned the greeting. A large woman bustled out of the kitchen, ushering them past rows of tortillas, fragrant with spiced meat, awaiting the cooking pot.
    "Carlos," she gently chided her son, "you and your friend must sit, you must let me prepare a lunch so good, you will spend the rest of the day in La Siesta , I will..."
    She suddenly stopped as she entered the open dining room behind Carlos and Daniels.
    Patrons at the three occupied tables were leaving abruptly, plates still heaped with food remaining behind. Sitting at a table by the door were two men. The one with his back