Free Jailbreak by Giles Tippette

about the conversation I’d had with the caballero, Senor Elizandro. I asked Jack how far twenty kilometers was.
    He said, “Oh, ’bout twelve miles, give or take a little.”
    I said, “We might ought to do that fellow a good turn and get word back to his ranch that he’s in jail.”
    Ben said, “Let’s get Norris out first.”
    “I’m for that,” Hays said.
    I said, “I meant after we see to Norris. I could give a peon a few bucks to carry word. Seems like a nice fellow. Told me Norris ought to keep his mouth shut.”
    Ben laughed. “I want to see that day.”
    We made an early breakfast and then sat around waiting for the bank to open, which it finally did around ten o’clock. I wasn’t too worried about the letter of credit. The night before we’d taken an inventory of what cash we all had and it had come to a little over $2100. So even if they hadn’t of cleared our letter of credit we would still have had enough for the payoff.
    But it went all right. The only hitch was they didn’t have that many dollars on hand and insisted on giving us two thousand of it in pesos. Well, that wasn’t too bad although you lost a little on the exchange rate every time you swapped currencies. But considering the money we were already out for nothing it didn’t seem like much to worry about.
    At eleven o’clock we were all in Senor Obregon’s outer office. This time he didn’t keep us waiting. To keep things from getting jammed up in the small office, I left Ben and Hays outside. Señor Obregon was at his desk, as was the representative of Captain Davilla. Obregon stood up as soon as we came in, as did the go-between. Obregon said, “Choo have the moneys?”
    “I got the moneys,” I said. “When do we get my brother?”
    “Queekly,” he said. “Primero the moneys.”
    I started to hand him a packet of bills, but he drawed back like I was offering a live snake. “No, no,” he said. “Por este hombre. ” He pointed at the go-between.
    Well, hell, I didn’t care if they wanted to have their little game. I handed the money to the representative. Obregon was right over his shoulder, watching as he counted the peso notes. When they were done he looked at me in startlement. He said, “Es uno sólo. ” Only one.
    Jack had been told what to say. In Spanish he said, “You get the other one thousand when his brother walks out of that jail.”
    “Oh, no, no, no, no!” Señor Obregon said. He was shaking his head so violently that a little of his black hair somehow worked its way loose from the plaster of grease he had it held down with and fell around his ears. He was very excited. “Dos es necesario!” He held up two fingers. “Dos. Ahora. ”
    I said, “No, I’m not going to give you all of it now. One now and one when my brother is out.”
    Jack didn’t even have to translate. Señor Obregon understood well enough. He just kept shaking his head, getting more and more agitated and saying, “No, no, no.”
    “All right,” I said. “I’ll just take this back.” I reached over and jerked the packet of money out of the hands of the representative, who looked like he needed a drink.
    That brought Senor Obregon up short in his tracks. He turned a volley of Spanish loose on Jack. Jack answered him back a time or two and then turned to me. He said, “He spouted a lot of words, but what it comes down to is he feels you be questioning his honor.”
    I said, “They do set a heap of store about that honor business down here, don’t they? No, tell him it has nothing to do with honor. That it’s just business. Tell him if I were buying cattle from him I’d do the same—give him half as a binder and the other half on delivery. It’s the same.”
    That led to another volley between Jack and Obregon. The lawyer just kept looking sourer and sourer, but, finally, he heaved his shoulders and spread his arms out, palms upward. “Hokay,” he said.
    Jack said, “He said, ’Hokay.’ ”
    I just give him a look.