The Dogs of Mexico Read Online Free PDF

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    “True. But I didn’t come after you when you blew up your house either.”
    “You didn’t know where I was.”
    “Don’t kid yourself. You were right here except for a short time living on the street. I could have picked you up any day of the week.”  
    Again Robert tried not to show surprise.”So? Why didn’t you?”
    “Why didn’t I? Shit, Bohnert. You were having a rough enough time as it was.”
    “Come on. You’re not the hearts-and-flowers type.”
    Fowler grinned a little. “That’s hurtful.”
    “I know you. Friend.”
    Fowler gathered himself, officious now, eyes narrowed in their perennial squint. “I could have every operative in Miami here in two seconds flat. Take you down before you could blink.”  
    “Yeah? Maybe you want to give it a try. Right now. Friend.”  
    Fowler eyed him closely, judging perhaps whether he was serious. Then, shrugging him off: “Shit. You’re hopeless. Always have been.”
    “Okay, let’s stop all this horse-assing around. What’re you doing here?”
    “The man insists on wounding me. Hurting my feelings.” Fowler’s expression went suddenly grave again. “Okay. Bottom line? Money. This is the big one. I need your help.”
    Robert looked at him in genuine surprise. “This is new. Duane Fowler needing help?”
    Fowler waved him off. “A collection of rare diamonds is being smuggled out of South Africa.”  
    Robert’s senses went on alert. “And?”  
    “A quarter of it’s yours. I’m guessing three to five million. Maybe more, your part. All you have to do is get them into the States from Mexico.”
    In spite of himself, Robert felt a flush of excitement. “What’s the hitch? You send people anywhere you want every day, twenty-four-seven.”
    “It isn’t that easy anymore. Besides, this is a private transaction.”  
    Private transaction? O-kay…
    Robert stood by as Fowler picked up the satchel, placed it on the bed and unsnapped the clasps. He lifted out a smaller case. “Your everyday video camera. Now. You know what this is.” He pulled out a presentation projector, roughly eleven-by-twelve inches by three-and-a-half inches thick.  
    Robert looked on, noncommittal.
    “Gutted.” Fowler took a screwdriver from a small packet and had the back off in seconds. “The diamonds are in a titanium canister that will fit perfectly inside this cavity.”  
    “You’re telling me you can fit several million dollars worth of diamonds in that space?”
    “These aren’t your mother’s diamonds. This is De Beers, a private collection.”
    “And just how, if I may ask, did we come by these De Beers diamonds?”
    Fowler gave him a studied look. “One of our men is imbedded in a terrorist group in North Africa. They knocked over a De Beers carrier and made off with the diamonds. Our man got away with them. He contacted me and, well, here we are.”
    “So, the question is, are we stealing from De Beers, or are we stealing from terrorists?”  
    “Here’s the deal. You’re a boat salesman taking a little car trip from Mexico City to Acapulco where you’re meeting a client who’s considering one of our cigarette boats. However, you’re interested in Mexico, its culture, so you’re shooting a little footage along the way.”  
    “Why not fly straight into Acapulco?”  
    “Degrees of separation, Bohnert, name of the game.”
    “And the cartels? I’m not all that eager to find my head on somebody’s doorstep down there.”  
    Fowler dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Those people don’t care about you. They’re only interested in killing each other. The competition. You know how many US expatriates live in Mexico? Our best guesstimate is between five hundred thousand and three million.”
    “Well, that’s narrowing it down.”
    Fowler ignored the sarcasm. “We do know that over four hundred thousand Americans have bought homes down there in the last ten years. All living in perfect safety. They shop at