Free Effigy by Theresa Danley Page B

molestado. Now, that doesn’t gain a lot of respect in my business.”
    He gave his hair one last pat and flipped the visor back up. “And it violates the terms of our agreement.”
    Diego felt nauseous and light headed. “It’s not—”
    Zedilla turned around in his seat once again. His coal-black eyes seemed to penetrate right through Diego, as if probing for a sign of weakness. He leaned over the leather seat just a bit, tilting an ear in. “¿ Perdón? ”
    “I can’t…”
    Zedilla watched him for a moment more and then, as though bothered by a fly, casually flicked a hand in the air. “Let him go.”
    The cord released from Diego’s neck and sweet air rushed into his burning lungs. The heat from his face was fading away with each strained breath when Zedilla reached across the seat and slapped him.
    “I believe you were addressing me,” he said.
    “It’s not my fault,” Diego gasped. “They assigned me to a homicide case.”
    Zedilla looked amused. “So what, you’ve turned murder detective now?”
    “For now. I have no control over the drug squads.”
    “And yet, we still pay you.”
    “I haven’t collected in three months,” Diego argued.
    “But we’ve paid you still.”
    Diego felt his anger mounting. A man like Zedilla might consider one payment sufficient for a lifetime of service, and anything above that might just as well be considered gratuity. Diego didn’t see it that way at all and they both knew full well the terms of their agreement, twenty thousand pesos for each month Diego diverted the AFI from the Zedilla cartel.
    Regardless, Diego was powerless should Zedilla decide to change the rules in the middle of the game. The leverage that he had in directing the AFI straight to the drug dealer’s door was trumped by bribes distributed to all levels of enforcement authority. For all Diego knew, Regional Director Escaban, the pious crusader of justice himself, was probably bought off with Zedilla money. There was no chance Diego was going to win this argument, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
    “Nobody has touched you until now, have they?”
    “Don’t play games with me, compadre . I expect to get what I pay for.”
    “And you have. You’ve paid nothing recently, so you received nothing recently.”
    Zedilla’s face turned sour. “ Para el coche !” he ordered.
    The car swerved out of traffic and as soon as it came to a stop, Diego was thrown out onto the curb. He rolled with the momentum, half stunned and still feeling the sting of the cord on his neck. As he gathered himself, Zedilla rolled down his window and threw a wad of cash at Diego’s feet.
    “Find a way to take care of my trucks, Armando,” he said. “Or I’ll find a way to take care of you.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    AFI Headquarters
     
    Regional Director Carlos Miguel Escaban was fuming by the time Diego shuffled into his office. He pointed at the door with a stiff finger and the agent obediently shut it behind him. “Sit down, Armando,” he ordered gruffly, taking note of his agent’s unusually heavy saunter. Without so much as the defiant sneer Escaban had come to expect, Diego collapsed into a chair. His face was pinched as though distracted by laden thoughts.
    “Where in the hell have you been?” Escaban pressed.
    Diego stiffened like he’d just been pounced on by a pit bull. The agent’s jaw set like a steel trap as he tried to stare him down, but Escaban wasn’t fazed.
    “I spilled coffee on my pants,” Diego explained. “I had to go home and change.”
    Escaban wasn’t buying it. “Are you sure you didn’t sleep in this morning?” he asked. “I hear you had a late night.”
    “¿ Como ?”
    Escaban propped himself assertively over his desk. “Don’t play dumb with me. That New Age leader was found dead in his cell this morning and a guard says he saw you bringing him in around three this morning.”
    Diego didn’t even blink. “ Sí . I brought him in.”
    “And just