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For that matter, everything about Hernandez was pricy. Delgado knew that it was going to cost him at least five hundred bucks for Angel’s services to mend Jes?s Jim?nez in his West Kensington living room that he’d converted to a makeshift clinic.

But he also knew that that was the price of doing business.

At least that fucking thief Skipper finally got what was coming to him.

Delgado’s phone vibrated just as West Kensington made him think about the van getting tigertailed.

He read the text: 609-555-1904 OK… WE GO 2 ANGEL NOW

Then he sent to Quintanilla: WHAT ABOUT MINIVAN?

Quintanilla replied: 609-555-1904 GONE… IT amp; CHEVY

What Chevy?

Delgado thumbed and sent: CHEVY?

Delgado sat staring at his cellular phone screen. And waited.

What the hell is he-

The phone vibrated, and he read: 609-555-1904 SORRY… WAS TAPING LEG JESUS JACKED A CHEVY… AFTER COP SHOT HIM

Delgado said, “Cop?”

He wrote: COP? U SURE? HOW U KNOW IT WAS A COP?

There was another long delay.

This time when Delgado finally got the reply, he decided the delay had been because Quintanilla had been trying to figure out what to say.

The text read: 609-555-1904 MAYBE CAUSE THATS WHAT JESUS SAID THE FUCKING COP YELLED AT HIM??

Shit.

Delgado thumbed and sent: OK… OK… LET ME KNOW IF ANYTHING ELSE COMES UP

After he hit SEND, he stared at the phone for a long moment.

What else can go wrong?

Then he thumbed a text and sent it to Jorge-El Cheque’s name was Jorge Ernesto Aguilar-in Dallas: STILL COMING 2NITE… ANY WORD ON THE KID?

El Cheque replied: 214-555-7636 NOTHING… GETTING CALLS FROM HIS STOPS ASKING WHEN HE COMES U THINK ZETAS?

Zetas! Shit! I hope not.

Maybe he just took off?

I thought he could be trusted.

He replied: NOT ZS PROBABLY NOTHING… C U 2NITE…

Delgado’s phone vibrated with El Cheque’s reply: 214-555-7636 OK… HOPEURRITE

Delgado then put the phone in his pocket, reached down and grabbed the tan backpack with the Nike logotype from the passenger-side floorboard, then got out of the Tahoe.

Inside the front door of the Mall of Mexico, Juan Paulo Delgado found that he had to step around two long lines of Latino men and women in order to get deeper in the building. He’d never seen it this busy.