into the main living space, he was surprised to find the older Dr. Vasquez sitting in the recliner with a book in his hand. A mug sat on the side table beside him, filled with coffee if the aromatic smell was any clue.
“Good morning. You’re up early,” he said deferentially. “No earlier than you,” the old man replied and eyeballed him in a decidedly wary way. Although the professor often seemed absentminded and in his own world, he obviously had a clue that something had happened between his daughter and Bill.
Bill pointed to the door. “I’m just heading to check on the watch. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Deanna had a rough night,” the professor said, clearly not about to let Bill make his escape, but Bill was not about to get into it with her father.
“We should let her sleep later then,” he said and barged out the door, intending on completing his plans before it got too late.
He walked the grounds, keeping a keen eye on things and checking on the two agents who had nothing to report. It had been a calm night, which brought relief. If their two perps had been involved with Los Leones, Bill suspected that the cartel would have quickly had more thugs in the area to try and complete their plan. From what they knew of Primera Mexica, their capabilities were far more limited than that of the drug cartel. That likely explained why things had been peaceful during the night—only PM was involved in this attack and not the cartel.
He returned to the apartment, but sensed he would have no choice but to answer to Deanna’s father when he realized Deanna was still not awake.
Slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair, Bill looked toward the professor and asked, “Can I get you some more coffee?”
“ Por favor ,” Gonzalo answered and held up his mug.
Bill strode over, grabbed the empty mug and said, “Light and sweet?”
“So you know how my daughter likes her coffee?” Gonzalo said, shooting him a very parental hairy eyeball.
Bill juggled the mug back and forth in his hands and met the old man’s gaze directly. “I know how she’s feeling right now. Confused. Alone.”
“It seems to me she wasn’t so alone last night,” Gonzalo challenged, warning evident in his tone.
“Respectfully, that’s not any of your business.” Before her father could reply, Bill walked back to the kitchen and prepared the coffee. Returned to give Gonzalo the mug, grateful that he didn’t begin the discussion again. Her father just thanked him and returned his attention to the book he had been reading.
Bill set himself up at the kitchen table, began reviewing the reports that had been sent to him on Hector Lopez. Apparently he was a familiar figure in certain circles in Mexico. Historians and academics regularly called on him for his expert opinion. Antiquities dealers came to him to purchase assorted objects or to have Lopez authenticate the provenance of relics they had acquired. It made perfect sense that Miranda, after possibly discovering something unexpected in the tomb, may have gone to Lopez for assistance in light of his reputation.
Unfortunately, Miranda and others were likely unaware that Lopez had deep ties to Primera Mexica or if they were aware, may have had some sympathies for the group. Hopefully their approval for the fringe group had ended when PM had become more violent in recent years.
Since Lopez was a fixture at many social events in Mexico City, Bill hoped it would be relatively easy for them to arrange to meet him and not make it obvious that they had set their sights on him. With some carefully planted information, he hoped that Lopez could provide information that would lead them to Miranda.
He saved the various reports to his computer and was about to start booking flights and hotel rooms when he hesitated, worried about how Deanna would react to his making the decisions without her. So not a good thing, the hesitation. If it had been anyone else working with
“Good morning. You’re up early,” he said deferentially. “No earlier than you,” the old man replied and eyeballed him in a decidedly wary way. Although the professor often seemed absentminded and in his own world, he obviously had a clue that something had happened between his daughter and Bill.
Bill pointed to the door. “I’m just heading to check on the watch. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Deanna had a rough night,” the professor said, clearly not about to let Bill make his escape, but Bill was not about to get into it with her father.
“We should let her sleep later then,” he said and barged out the door, intending on completing his plans before it got too late.
He walked the grounds, keeping a keen eye on things and checking on the two agents who had nothing to report. It had been a calm night, which brought relief. If their two perps had been involved with Los Leones, Bill suspected that the cartel would have quickly had more thugs in the area to try and complete their plan. From what they knew of Primera Mexica, their capabilities were far more limited than that of the drug cartel. That likely explained why things had been peaceful during the night—only PM was involved in this attack and not the cartel.
He returned to the apartment, but sensed he would have no choice but to answer to Deanna’s father when he realized Deanna was still not awake.
Slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair, Bill looked toward the professor and asked, “Can I get you some more coffee?”
“ Por favor ,” Gonzalo answered and held up his mug.
Bill strode over, grabbed the empty mug and said, “Light and sweet?”
“So you know how my daughter likes her coffee?” Gonzalo said, shooting him a very parental hairy eyeball.
Bill juggled the mug back and forth in his hands and met the old man’s gaze directly. “I know how she’s feeling right now. Confused. Alone.”
“It seems to me she wasn’t so alone last night,” Gonzalo challenged, warning evident in his tone.
“Respectfully, that’s not any of your business.” Before her father could reply, Bill walked back to the kitchen and prepared the coffee. Returned to give Gonzalo the mug, grateful that he didn’t begin the discussion again. Her father just thanked him and returned his attention to the book he had been reading.
Bill set himself up at the kitchen table, began reviewing the reports that had been sent to him on Hector Lopez. Apparently he was a familiar figure in certain circles in Mexico. Historians and academics regularly called on him for his expert opinion. Antiquities dealers came to him to purchase assorted objects or to have Lopez authenticate the provenance of relics they had acquired. It made perfect sense that Miranda, after possibly discovering something unexpected in the tomb, may have gone to Lopez for assistance in light of his reputation.
Unfortunately, Miranda and others were likely unaware that Lopez had deep ties to Primera Mexica or if they were aware, may have had some sympathies for the group. Hopefully their approval for the fringe group had ended when PM had become more violent in recent years.
Since Lopez was a fixture at many social events in Mexico City, Bill hoped it would be relatively easy for them to arrange to meet him and not make it obvious that they had set their sights on him. With some carefully planted information, he hoped that Lopez could provide information that would lead them to Miranda.
He saved the various reports to his computer and was about to start booking flights and hotel rooms when he hesitated, worried about how Deanna would react to his making the decisions without her. So not a good thing, the hesitation. If it had been anyone else working with
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