Chapter 39: West Side Story

Faith

The storm had swept the Caribbean clean of its sandy gold, and as we walked along the water back toward the hotel, it glowed coolly aqua, gem-like, crisp. Our escorts, except for the way they punctuated their statements with American curses, were gentlemen and careful guides.

“It’d be quicker if we cut through this plaza, but there’s a crew boosting cars on the other side, so we’re going the long way ‘round,” the leader said.

“Bad crew,” another added.

“Second baddest in Cartagena,” another added.

“That’s damn right,” the first concluded, and they pushed their fists together.

“So how do you know Zane?” Walter Gates asked.

“Zane is the man, man,” the leader replied. “The man.”

“He’s unique, alright,” said Walter Gates. “But how do you know him?”

“Oh, we found him there in the hotel,” the man replied. “We were there to rob him. Don’t look at me like that: everybody has to do what they’re good at. Anyway, he didn’t have nothing to rob, just a cat.”