Free Jailbreak by Giles Tippette Page A

Then I passed the money back to the representative. I said to Obregon, “When?”
    “Queekly, queekly,” he said.
    “This afternoon?”
    “Sí, ” he said. He said something to Jack.
    Jack said, “We’re to go back to the hotel and wait. The lawyer here said he’ll get word to us when it’s time to come collect Norris.”
    “All right,” I said. We done the hand-shaking business again and then gathered up Ben and Hays as we left. Outside, in the street, I turned to study Obregon’s office. It was a long, low, whitewashed affair that held a couple more offices besides his. Other lawyers, I reckoned. I looked across the street in the opposite direction. There was a cantina with a bench conveniently placed out front. I said to Hays, “Ray, go in there in that cantina and get you a cold beer and come set out on that bench and watch the front of Obregon’s office. See who comes and goes, especially if he goes. About one o’clock I’ll send Ben down here to relieve you.”
    We had a lunch of sorts in the hotel café and then went back up to the room to await word about Norris. When two o’clock had come and there was still nothing from Obregon I sent Ben to spell Hays. Ray came in a few minutes later looking hot and sweaty. His shirt was soaked nearly clear through. He said, “Boy, that beer don’t do you no good at all. Might’s well not drink the stuff. Goes right through a man’s skin and ends up on his shirt.”
    I said, “That’s fine and dandy. Now tell me what happened.”
    “Not much of nothin’,” he said. “Wasn’t but the one transaction. Thet little fat lawyer y’all was jawin’ with come out just before Ben come over. But he jest headed down the street.”
    “He didn’t go toward the jail?”
    “No sir. Went in the exact opposite direction.”
    “Nobody went in?”
    “Nary a soul. Like I said, wasn’t but that one piece of business an’ that was the lawyer strollin’ away from town.”
    That left me a good deal troubled. From two until four o’clock was the traditional siesta time. If Obregon was heading home for his nap there wasn’t going to be no “queekly” about this business of releasing Norris, not unless he was on his way to see Davilla. I asked Jack what he thought. He shook his head and said, “I’ve learnt one thang since I commenced doin’ business down here in Mexico: believe only one half and doubt the rest.”
    I said, “But, hell, he’s got to deliver Norris. He took my money.”
    “Did he?” Jack said.
    “Hell yes. You were there. You saw it.”
    He was chewing tobacco and he took a second to spit. He said, “What you reckon my word is worth down here?”
    I said, “A man can’t just make a deal and not live up to it.”
    “He can’t?” Jack said. “What’s to stop him?”
    “I am,” I said.
    Jack spit again. “Then we’d have two of you in the hoosegow.”
    I studied him. “This is getting serious.”
    “It always was,” Jack said. “These folks ain’t got a whole lot of sand in their craw, but they dearly do love to git a gringo in a tight. They real good at squeezing. Ever notice the folks that carry on the most about honor are generally the ones with the least supply?”
    We waited all through that long afternoon, sitting in the room sweating. About five o’clock I sent Hays to spell Ben off. He came in hot and sweaty and angry. He said, “If that son of a bitch is supposed to be doing something he must be doing it by mail. He come back to his office about four and ain’t been a damn thing happen since then. Justa, I’m telling you we got to do something. That fat bastard is taking our money for nothing.”
    We had a tub of iced beer sitting in the middle of the room. I took the tin cap off one with a little metal opener that came with it and handed the beer to Ben. I said, “Sit down and cool off, little brother. We got to let things fall out a little more. Game ain’t over. Let’s wait and see.”
    But by late evening