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For Dianne: Best
friend I ever had.
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I wish I loved the human race; I wish
I loved its silly face; I wish I liked the
way it walks; I wish I liked the way it
talks; And when I'm introduced to
one I wish I thought, What jolly fun!
Sir Walter Raleigh
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It was past midnight, and the state road was as quiet as the inside of a coffin buried a hundred years. The south Texas summer skies were filled with stars, though, pinpoints of light against the black curtain of a moonless night.
The south Texas skies were also filled with a couple million insectsmoths, mosquitoes, lightning bugs, June bugs, flying weevils, stray roaches, no-see-ums, and God knew what else. The bodies of a whole truckload of the suckers formed a gooey green and yellow paste on the windshield of the black '86 Ford LTD where it sat parked next to a clump of something that mightif it was luckygrow up to be a tumbleweed someday. The car was on a tiny hillock a couple hundred yards off the road, but the ground was hard and dry, only a little sand sprinkled over it. Easy enough for even a stock Ford to navigate on it.
Not that the LTD was exactly stock...
A mosquito buzzed from the hot night in through the Ford's open passenger window.
Riding shotgun, Dee swatted at the mosquito, "Damned bugs."
Kay, the car's other occupant, sat behind the wheel, staring into the darkness. He said, "I hear that, partner."
Both men wore white shirts, black ties, and black suits. Their black shoes were so shiny they could have been patent leather.
Dee shook his head. He was the older of the two men, close to retirement age, and had a good fifteen years on Kay. "This is no way for a grown man to make a livin'," Dee said. He swatted at the mosquito again, smashed it against the side of his neck. Looked at the bloody spot on his palm with disgust, then wiped it on the windowsill.
"It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it," Kay said. He looked at a pack of Camels on the dash with longing. Be easier to do the job with a smoke. But nope. Couldn't risk the light being seen. Maybe even smelled. Out here in the boonies, odors traveled a long way. Too bad.
"Sheeit. You and John Wayne. You gonna tell me a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do?"
"You wound me, Dee." Kay put a hand over his heart, as if shot. Glanced at the Camels again.
Dee caught the look. He shook his head again. "You keep smoking them cigarettes and you gonna wind up like the Duke did, too." He paused. "I'm gettin' too old for this, hoss."
They'd been partners a long time, they knew how each other thought. "Ah, you're not old, you're just like a fine vintage wine, getting better with age."
"Turning into vinegar, you mean."
"Dee, Dee, why you want to talk like that... oops, hel-lo." Kay reached for the ignition key. "Looky here. It's showtime, folks."
In the flat distance, the lights of a lone vehicle gleamed on the state road.
"You gonna wait for the boys in green?"
"Just cranking the motor. But we want to time it right. Remember Canada?"
Dee smiled. "Oh, yeah. I thought I was going to throw an embolus I was laughing so hard. That Mountie. I wonder what ever happened to him?"
"Hell, he's probably running the country by now."
"Wouldn't surprise me at all," Dee said.
The Ford's engine caught with a rumble that was a lot more muscular than it ought to be for standard Detroit iron.
As they watched, several sets of auto headlights flared on the road to their left. The vehicles, a couple of 4WD's and late model Chevrolets colored a sickly, puke green, were lined up, blocking the road. They were close enough for Kay to read the INS logos on them.
La Migra, they called them down here.
The Border Patrol was awake and about to stem the tide of wetbacks. He grinned. Bush-league guys.
They didn't have a clue; still, Kay felt a certain kinship with them. Such that it was.
The approaching vehicle slowed, came to a halt at the roadblock. Kay saw that it was a white van, couple years old, covered with dust that had surely spent the morning in Mexico.
Welcome to the Estados Unidos, amigos. Everybody out of the car and nobody moves real quick.
Kay put the Ford in gear. "Hi, ho, Silver," he said. He looked at Dee and grinned again.
"You call me Tonto and I'm gonna kick your sorry ass," Dee said.
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Kay chuckled as he hit the accelerator.
The big Ford's tires spun and threw dirt.
The car headed toward the road.
"Hang on!" Kay said. He tromped the brake, cut the wheel, and put the LTD into a slide. Kicked up a lot of dust as the Ford skidded sideways and came to a stop behind the white van, both cars lit by the headlights of the Border Patrol's vehicles.
There were half a dozen INS boyswell, figuratively speaking, since one of them was a womanspread out around the van. The Ford's arrival spooked them some, since about half of them pulled their pieces. Spooked too the dozen allegedly illegal Mexican immigrants standing behind the van where they were waiting for La Migra to finish busting their coyote before they all got sent back home.
Life was hard. And expensive, too.
Dee and Kay got out of the Ford. "Evening, gentlemen," Kay said. He held up his badge case with its ID
so nobody would get trigger happy. "We'll take it from here."
A tall good-looking kid of about thirty marched over to where Kay stood, shined his black aluminum six-cell light at Kay's ID. Squinted at it. "I'm agent Janus," the kid said. "This is my operation. Who the hell are?"
He finally made out the ID. "You're INS?"
"Division Six," Kay said. He pocketed the badge case.
"I never heard of Division Six!"
"Really? You need to pay more attention to the memos from HQ, son. We selectively monitor field operations."