"Liar."

"No lie, sweetheart. Vittorio, here, managed to run them off the road in a way that must have been very embarrassing for them, but they'll be back. This is the second time your bank gave them a call."

"I'm having the combination plate," she said, handing Cupie the menu.

A waitress came over, and she ordered.

"Whatever she's having," Cupie said.

Vittorio nodded. "Same here."

"And three Carta Blancas," Cupie added.

"Well, this is very cozy," Barbara said. "How about if I cause a big scene, and they call the cops. Would you like that?"

"Okay by me," Cupie said. "But you should know that I paid the cops in Puerto Vallarta a visit and swore out a complaint against you for shooting me, so they're looking for you all over the country right now."

"Lying again."

"Would you like me to ask the headwaiter to call them?" Cupie asked, waving at the man, who started over.

"No!" she said.

Cupie waved off the man as their beers arrived, then he took a big swig. "Ahhhh," he said, "that hits the spot." He turned back to Barbara. "So let's recap," he said. "You've got three parties who insist on your company: the cops, the kidnappers and us. The cops will lock you away in a jail that will not meet your housekeeping standards and make you eat beans and rice with people you wouldn't ordinarily see at dinner; on the other hand, the kidnappers will hurt you until you countersign all the travelers' checks in your purse-they won't take kindly to Minnie Mouse-then they'll gang-rape you and leave you in an arroyo with a bullet in your brain; but all Vittorio and I want is for you to sign six blank sheets of paper, and then we'll leave you alone. Who do you choose?"

Barbara took a pull on her beer. "I'm thinking it over," she said.

"Any one of the options will meet our client's wishes," Cupie said, helpfully.

"And you… What's your name?"

"Cupie Dalton, at your service."

"And what do you and the grim savage, here, really want?"

"Only to be of service to our client, your very concerned husband."

"Could you use ten thousand dollars each, in cash?"

"Why madam, are you trying to bribe us?"

"Because that's what I'll give you to get me out of this country, without being arrested or kidnapped, and back into the United States."

Vittorio placed a file on the table, opened it and produced a pen. "Sign six sheets of paper with your proper name, and we'll accept your offer."

Cupie spoke up again. "Just sign the papers, take the three hundred grand and we'll head to El Norte."

Barbara picked up the pen, signed each of the papers, then put down the pen.

Vittorio examined the signatures, closed the file and put it away.

"Now," she said, "do we have a deal?"

"Sure, why not?" Cupie asked.

"Well, I want to finish my lunch and get some sleep before we head out."

"I guess we could use some lunch and some sleep, too."

As if on cue, lunch arrived.

"I wouldn't drink the water," Cupie said. "Stick to beer for everything but showering."

They dug in.

"Oh, I forgot," Cupie said. "Your husband told us to tell you that your plan to have him murdered didn't work. The guy you hired and his accomplice are in jail."

They finished lunch, Cupie paid the check and they got up to leave. "Let me just remind you," he said. "We already have what we want, so in effect, we're now working for you. However, we do wish to be paid in advance; so we'd better go to a bank, so you can cash some traveler's checks."

"All right," she said. "I have to turn in my rental car and get my deposit back, too."

A few minutes later, Cupie and Vittorio were tucking cash into their pockets.

"Remember," Cupie said, "if you want to scamper now, go right ahead, but you won't have our protection any more, and bad people will be looking for you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Barbara said. "I'm tired; let's find a hotel."

JOE BIG BEAR SAT IN HIS TRUCK OUTSIDE THE SANTA FE County Corrections Center and waited, eyeing the woman in the car across the lot, wearing a red bandanna on her head. She was better looking than he had expected.

A few minutes after ten, the side door of the building was opened by a guard, and a dozen or fifteen men walked out of the building, blinking in the bright sunlight. Big Bear knew two of them by name, though not personally. The one called Bobby walked directly over to the car of the woman in the bandanna and got in. A short conversation ensued, then she handed him an envelope. He inspected the contents carefully, then some sort of argument ensued. After a moment of this, Bobby got out of the car, looking out of sorts, and the woman drove away. Bobby began to hoof it down the street toward the bus stop.

Big Bear drove out of the parking lot and pulled alongside the man. "Hey, Bobby, you need a lift?"

Bobby eyed him suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"I got out yesterday. Come on, hop in."

Bobby got into the car. "Oh yeah, I seen you in the yard. How come you're giving me a lift?"

"Just passing by, and I saw you."

"You wasn't passing by; you was parked in the lot back there. You haven't asked me where I'm going."

"Oh, I know where you're going," Big Bear said. He reached down and pressed the switch that locked the doors. "Fasten your seat belt," he said. "It's the law."

Bobby reluctantly put on his seat belt. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm saving your life," Big Bear replied.

"How's that?"

"It's like this: if you'd gone on your way and tried to kill Mr. Eagle, you'd end up with a bullet in your head."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the grand in your pocket and eleven more that what's-his-name promised you."

"Harold?"

"Yeah, Harold. What's his last name? I forget."

"Fuentes."

"Yeah, Harold Fuentes. He the big guy with the bald head?"

"No, he's the medium-size guy with the gray hair and the ponytail."

"Right. Got it."

"How do you know about this, anyway?"

"Word gets around," Big Bear said. "It's like this: Harold hired you to kill Mr. Eagle because he isn't getting out for a couple of weeks. So he hires you, and that way, when Mr. Eagle dies, he's in jail. Pretty good alibi, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And then, when Harold gets out, he meets you to give you the other eleven grand he promised you, and instead, he gives you a bullet. You're gone, and he keeps all the money. The cops don't much care who killed you, at least not the way they'd care who killed Mr. Eagle. Get the picture?"

Bobby gave a low whistle. "Man, I really bit, didn't I?"

"You sure did."

"But where are we going?"

Big Bear pulled over to the curb in front of the bus station. "We're there," he said, "and we're about to save your life."

"How?"

"It's like this: you take some of the grand and you go inside and buy a bus ticket."

"To where?"

"Anywhere you like, Bobby; that's the beauty of this thing. You're free as a bird, and you've got a thousand dollars in your pocket."

"But I like it here, in Santa Fe."

"Not anymore, Bobby. Santa Fe isn't the place for you anymore."

"Why not?"

"Two reasons: one, because when Harold gets out, he'll kill you for not killing Mr. Eagle. Of course, he was always going to kill you."

"I can handle Harold. What's the other reason?"

Big Bear reached under his jean jacket, pulled out the Colt Python and pointed it at Bobby. "The other reason is that if you don't go in there and get on a bus, I'm gonna kill you. Same if you should come back to Santa Fe. Now, is all that perfectly clear?"

"I guess so."

"Don't guess, Bobby."

"It's clear."