Perfect for fans of Mick Herron and John Le Carré "The most important thing that's happened in Mexican literature in the last thirty years" Gaby Wood, Sunday Telegraph. It's Christmas in Culiacán and Detective Edgar "Lefty" Mendieta can't believe his luck. An old flame has returned with a teenage son he knew nothing about. Happiness seems to finally beckon for our careworn hero. The only snag is that Jason Mendieta wants to follow in his father's footsteps-even as Mexico's drug war descends a slippery slope toward chaos. While Lefty pursues a lunatic who has taken to bumping off dentists with a heavy-calibre pistol, a secret agent infiltrates a meeting of the drug lords and hears Pacific Cartel boss Samantha Valdés implore her underlings to stay out of the war. But an audacious murder provokes Samantha to change her mind and launch a wave of grisly killings across the country. Samantha then persuades Lefty to help her find the killer that pushed her over the edge. The truth he discovers will underline an old adage: revenge is a dish best served cold. No quiet family Christmas for our detective.
Release date:
February 8, 2018
Publisher:
MacLehose Press
Print pages:
197
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Agua de jamaica: a sweet cold drink made from hibiscus flowers
Aguachile: Sinaloa-style ceviche made with fresh raw shrimp, cucumber, red onion, lime juice, ground chillies and water
Asado a la plaza: fried cubes of beef with cooked vegetables, garnished with lettuce and fresh cheese or sour cream
Asado sinaloense: another name for asado a la plaza
Ate de membrillo: quince fruit paste
Barbacoa: cubed beef and beef marrow stewed in beer with potatoes, onions, tomatoes, olives, chillies and spices
Bucanitas: Buchanan’s Scotch whisky
Buñuelos: tortilla-shaped fried dough served with anise-flavoured syrup and powdered sugar
Cabrería a la ingelsa: bone-in beef tenderloin flavoured with Worcestershire sauce
Ceviche: raw fish in lime juice with chillies, onion, tomatoes and salt
Chakira: a non-alcoholic drink made from strawberry, kiwi and orange juice
Chiltepín chilli: a very small and very hot chilli pepper
Huevos à la Leonor: hard fried eggs with sour cream, dried ground chillies and sea salt
Machaca: marinated beef or pork rubbed with spices, then pounded, dried and shredded
Machaca de pescado: dried fish cooked with tomato, poblano chilli, onion, garlic and spices, then mashed
Michelada: beer with lime juice, powdered chillies and salt
Pescado zarandeado: fish marinated in chillies and spices, then grilled
Pibil: Yucatán-style meat or fish cooked in a banana leaf
Salsa mexicana: chunky hot sauce made of tomatoes, onions, jalapeño chillies and coriander
Tacos al vapor: tacos steamed in a double boiler
Room on the twenty-fourth floor of the Hilton Guadalajara. No dogs no cats no. Those are your instructions, Señor Ugarte, and I expect quick results. A lousy reproduction on the otherwise blank wall, curtains drawn, lights dim. Permeating everything, the tension of mistrust. Ugarte fixed his gaze on the three men flanking the member of the presidential cabinet, Man Number One, Man Number Two, Man Number Three: With all due respect, Señor Secretary, that will be up to you; my job is to provide you with information, what you do with it is not my responsibility. The Secretary wore a black suit and had already tossed back seven drinks. Sancho Panza belly. Ugarte wore a wine-coloured tie and had not touched his beer. His sixtieth birthday had come and gone, the party postponed: In December I’ll make up for it.
A small office in the presidential palace a few days before. At your service, Señor Presidente, sir, how is your señora? are the children well? An assistant served them whisky and departed. Listen up, Señor Secretary, I’m told your data is bullshit and of course I can’t rely on it, I want precision, exactitude, absolute dedication and results, is that clear? so I’m going to send you a skilled operative, not one of our own, have him infiltrate that meeting; a friend will help out, he wants to know who we’re after and to offer his opinion, we’re not going to allow that, I even refused to let it be one of his men; I need to know what happens at that meeting: who’s there, if the señora is vulnerable, to what point we can control them and what their plans are; I want to know their next moves. The President drained his glass and refilled it. Any of our agents could do that, sir, I have experts at this sort of thing; please sir, turn a deaf ear to my enemies, they evidently want to undermine me. You aren’t listening, don’t let them drag us into their racket, they need to know they’ve been fingered as the enemy, that the agreements are over, that they’re confronting a state that is strong and powerful. My impression is that they understand that, sir. Well, you sure can’t tell, I’m sick and tired of hearing that I want to legitimise myself, that the economy is collapsing, that we’re a failed state, I need everyone to pull their weight and do their jobs; if you mess up, start thinking about some African country where I can send you as ambassador, I know you like giraffes.
That is what brought them to the suite at the Hilton, the Secretary nervous, his bodyguards alert. Ugarte, a former military officer linked to a powerful clique, did not work much for the government anymore, he had health problems and they took too long to pay: what’s the story with bureaucrats, how can they be so bad at routine business? of course, when it’s time to shoot off their mouths they’re the first to start yapping. Yet he could not resist this chance to learn first hand what was up with the President’s flagship initiative, the war on organised crime, and just maybe he would be able to fulfil the secret longing that crossed his mind half an hour before as he rode the elevator up to the suite; what’s more, he never refused an assignment from General Alvarado, who had utter faith in him and who sent him pibil and decorations made from henequen at Christmas. Man Number One took out a cigarette. Black easy chairs. Man Number Two grabbed it and crushed it with a smile. What was going on? A war apparently launched as a public-relations exercise was killing an average of 19.3 people every day. What was the President aiming at? Well, that much was clear, but what did the heads of the cartels want? Good question.
The Secretary, who had not dared take a sip when with the President, now emptied his eighth glass in one gulp. We will put an end to them, Ugarte, we’ve got this war won, the President doesn’t need to worry, the gringos are happy, their ambassador says so without any prompting. So, why do you need to infiltrate a meeting of the notables? He knew he was taking a risk they might not hire him. The Secretary glared at him for thirty-three seconds. My boss wants to be sure and he’s the one in charge, Alvarado recommended you, I don’t know why, have you heard of the Mochis Initiative? Should I have? By now Ugarte was fed up, he did not want the official version of what the General had already told him in all its gory detail and he was beginning to feel ill; he stood up, held out a card with a cell-phone number to bring the session to an end. I will only call once from this number, Señor Secretary, make sure you answer. You think my telephones are tapped? Yours I don’t know, but mine certainly are, and this one I will use just the one time. Don’t worry, I’ll answer. Man Number Three handed him a card with the number for him to dial. Don’t delegate it to one of these well-dressed young men. The three scrutinised him, their faces blank. Of course not, Ugarte, who do you think I am? You’ll want to know right away, it’ll give you more time to use the information to your advantage. You think you’re a big shit, don’t you? Well, Señor Secretary, I am Catholic. And you go to Mass at the Guadalajara cathedral. He thinks I live here, Ugarte thought, and he stood up. Señor, I have to go. He handed the Secretary a second card with another number: So you can tell me the place, day and time of the meeting; I will only answer once. They contemplated each other. Fucking shit of a James Bond. Goddamned fourth-rate Fouché.
While two agents waited in the lobby to trail him, the former officer lay down in his room on the nineteenth floor. He was exhausted.
Alcohol is the only adviser that decides everything by flipping a coin.
He hated going to bed without a drink because it made him sleep in. Hey, Lefty, don’t make like you’ve got a private line to the Virgin, I need action now, remember, without me you’re nobody. Enough, fucking body, don’t mess with me. Why not? you think I don’t have rights? You want to be kissed and cuddled and milked, right, asshole? Why would I tell you no when it’s a fact; I want to see a set of legs splayed wide, whoopee, just the way you like it. Fucking degenerate. Come on, you like that. You’re sick. A banging on the bedroom door and Trudis’s voice jerked his eyes open. Lefty, get up, what are you doing in bed so late? up, up, you’ve got a visitor. He looked at the clock: It’s really early. What do you mean early, it’s nine o’clock, you’re never here this late, did you get drunk? Oh, I wish. So get yourself together, no man should be lying down at this time of day. Faintly in the background he could hear “White Christmas”. Trudis, what time do you think your beloved rockers get up? Don’t make excuses and hurry up; we’re in the living room. He put on his pants. What now? how many times have I warned those spongers never to look for me at home, a black T-shirt, I’ve told Zelda too, the David Toscana boots, also black. What a morning, I’d better pick up some whisky or I’ll turn into a bear and hibernate till spring; besides, it’s December, and in this city which knows nothing but summer it’s time to think about another sort of season: the playoffs. Trudis was waiting at the far end of the hallway; she had a funny expression, something festive was lighting up her face. For sure she thinks she’s finally convinced me to get a Christmas tree, maybe she’s already bought it and wants me to see it. Your Nescafé is ready, señor. Hmm, she’s up to something.
Waiting for him in the living room was Jason Mendieta, deftly texting on his cell phone. He stood up when he saw him. Lefty knew immediately who he was and he froze. Worth shit. Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Our lives are rivers that lead to the sea, he thought, and he swallowed. What a character that Susana was, always struggling to be more than her body, even though that’s why we all chased after her. Hi, I’m Jason. And I’m Edgar, what’s up. Handshake. Both hands strong, nervous, moist. Same height, same features, same smile. Lefty with his hair a little long and unruly, Jason’s spiky like an asterisk. Fucking Enrique, he was right on the money. How are you? Fine. They sat down. The kid had a papaya juice half drunk and Trudis set Lefty’s Nescafé on the table in the middle of the room, next to a few pudgy Santa Clauses. Jason kept up his rapid-fire texting. So, how is your mom? She’s thrilled, chatting nonstop with my grandma, they’re catching up. How long since she last came? Four years, Grandma visited us three times, but she can’t travel anymore. First time in Culiacán? We came here every year for vacation until my mom started a taco shop in Santa Monica and became a slave to it; she sent you this, he produced a smallish box tied with a Christmas bow. Uncle Enrique said you’d like it. It was the C.D.s of Bob Dylan’s thirtieth-anniversary concert. Wow, what a great thought. Boys, would you like to eat breakfast now? Um, I hope you don’t already have it. No, and please tell her thank you very much. Señora, I already had breakfast. The coffee is enough for me. None of that, Lefty, don’t think just because this young man is here you’re going to get away without eating the way you should, I’ll make you a nice omelette with goat’s cheese, chillies and onions, and for you another juice. This one is plenty, señora, thank you. Lefty was still in shock, the kid started texting again. Do sons really look so much like their fathers? yikes, they ought to look like the milkman.
When did you get in? Last night. By car? By plane. Ah, so any news of my brother? He’s good, a bit fat compared to you. He must eat like a horse. He likes hamburgers with double fries and he puts bacon on everything, and he’s always drinking beer, sometimes too much beer. Is he an alcoholic? Hmm, I don’t think so, what I do know is how much he misses you, you can tell he loves you a lot; we saw him last Thursday and he got all nostalgic. Silence, except for “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way”. Enrique told me you were unbeatable in the mile. I do alright, but I’m not into that anymore and I don’t train much. Don’t you want to make the Olympics? Well, I’d rather be a policeman. Mendieta studied him, the kid was like him, undoubtedly an improved version, but that much? Are you sure that isn’t like a kid wanting to be a fireman? No, I’ve thought it over and I’ve made up my mind. In the United States I suppose it’s a good job, here it’s usually a last resort. I don’t know about that, I just know I want to be like you; several of my friends have decided to be the same as their fathers and I will too. Lefty’s mouth hung open. Wow, this kid has it all figured out and he’s not fooling around. Is that the latest thing, to be like your fathers? Maybe, Jason read a text and responded immediately, maybe it’s because some of them are real heroes, in Iraq, in Afghanistan or in the city. Trudis called them to the table.
Young man, tell me again what your name is, gringo names always slip away on me. Jason. Young Jason, don’t pass up the opportunity to taste this machaca, it’s special, nothing like the ones they make in a blender. My grandma already made me some. Well, now you can compare them, taste it, don’t tell me you’re like Lefty that way too, he eats like a bird; come on, just have a little, you need to grow up strong and healthy even if you are as tall as Lefty already, and she served him; he can eat his omelette and you can have this delight, taste these flour tortillas, they’re made the way God wills, you need to feed that body. Trudis is not easy to contradict and as you can see she has great powers. Don’t exaggerate. Jason took a bite and chewed slowly; Mendieta watched him out of the corner of his eye. So this kid is my son, well, alright, what can you do? that’s some pedigree and on top of it all he wants to be a badge; I’ve got to call Ortega so he can tell me what’s what, what a father talks about with his son, where he takes him, what advice he gives him; I’m not going to spoil him, no way could I take him to El Quijote; what an eager beaver, since I wouldn’t return his calls he didn’t let me know he was coming, he didn’t want me to run away and hide, and that bit about him wanting to become a badge is heavy, isn’t it? and Trudis is thrilled, they act like they’ve known each other for years, should I take him to the whorehouse? no, I don’t think so, he must have his girl, he’s not ugly and his face sure isn’t pockmarked.
Jason was a strong boy, light-brown skin, sure of himself, he looked at his messages, answered rapidly or ignored them. I want a Christmas present, he said after finishing his juice. Lefty was still floating and Trudis was somewhere in the bedrooms doing her thing. I deserve one. Why? Because I’m the only one in my class this year who didn’t do drugs. It’s a big problem over there, isn’t it? It’s really hard to stop; if you want, you can do a drug test on me. They smiled. I brought you some American Nescafé, but you didn’t notice the difference. Mendieta tasted his coffee. You’re right, it’s even worse. They smiled again and relaxed. Uncle Enrique warned me, he told me not to be offended when most of what you say is rude. Is that what that damned beer belly told you? wait till I get hold of him, tell him what he’s going to die of. Listen, Mama wants to speak with you, don’t think it’s something I put her up to, all I wanted was to meet you and see what comes from that, and that’s happened, I like you. His stomach started feeling weird. See me? for what? he thought, then suggested: How about the three of us have supper together tonight? Only I have something on for tonight, so you two go ahead, will you pick her up at my grandma’s? Why not? at eight; if there’s work to be done I’ll ask someone to cover for me for a couple of hours. Will you lend me your Jetta? you probably go around in a cruiser. I’d rathe. . .
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