el.angeleyes-第26部分

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　Tori　went　to　meet　the　paisas；　and　Russell　could　hear　her　softly　spoken　Spanish　mingling　with　theirs。　She　did　not　sound　like　a　gringo…he　knew　he　did；　even　though　he　was　fluent　in　Spanish；　as　well　as　several　other　languages。　Tori　had　a　peculiar　facility　for　idiom　and　nuance　that　was　beyond　him。　She　spoke　like　a　native　wherever　she　went。
　Russell　saw　packets　of　bills…U。S。　currency…pass　from　Tori　to　the　uniformed　paisas。　She　handed　them　a　stack　of　passports；　hers；　Russell's；　those　of　the　flight　crew。　All　were　stamped。　A　moment　later　they　had　left；　without　even　having　glanced　Russell's　way。
　Tori　nodded　to　him；　and　they　went　down　the　moving　stairs。　The　uniformed　paisas　had　already　disappeared。　Russell　sucked　in　the　air；　clean　and　crisp；　deliciously　scented；　and　without　any　of　the　usual　oppressive　humidity　found　in　the　cities　at　a　lower　altitude。
　Tori　had　a　satchel　of　parachute　cloth　with　her。　While　they　stood　there　in　the　shadow　of　the　jet；　the　flight　crew　was　already　in　the　process　of　refueling；　going　through　the　myriad　maintenance　checks　necessary　between　flights。
　A　blue　four…door　Renault　drew　up。　She　had　asked　for　it；　because　it　had　a　larger　engine　and　was　heavier　than　either　the　Mazda　or　the　Toyota　that　were　available。　〃Are　you　armed？〃　Tori　asked。
　Russell　shook　his　head。
　Tori　said；　〃Go　back　into　the　plane　and　requisition　something　from　the　pilot。　He's　also　an　armorer。〃　She　climbed　into　the　backseat　of　the　car。
　Russell　did　as　she　suggested；　but　he　was　annoyed。　He　hadn't　taken　a　good　look　at　the　pilot；　he'd　needed　her　to　tell　him　who　his　men　were。　He　was　beginning　to　regret　his　acquiescence　to　this　madness。　But　what　choice　had　he　been　given？　None；　he　told　himself　glumly。　Bernard　had　seen　neatly　to　that。
　Tori　was　already　in　the　back　of　the　Renault　when　he　returned；　huddling　with　the　driver　in　front。　As　soon　as　he　sat　down　beside　her；　the　Renault　took　off。　The　driver；　a　fit…looking　man　with　silver　hair　and　mustache；　wore　wraparound　dark　glasses；　an　open…weave　cotton　shirt；　and　linen　trousers。
　〃Wele　to　Metra…lin；　Senor　Slade；〃　Estilo　said。　He　was　using　the　only　slightly　tongue…in…cheek　slang　that　had　given　Me…dellin　its　apocalyptic　nickname；　Machine…Gun　City。
　Russell　turned　to　Tori。　''Why　not　use　a　helicopter？''　he　asked　her。
　〃The　last　people　who　tried　that；〃　Tori　said；　〃were　turned　to　cinders　by　sicario　hijackers。〃　She　shrugged。　〃It's　the　gringo　alternative。　The　natives…the　paisas…　go　the　way　we　will　go。〃
　The　Renault　was　going　very　fast；　bouncing　along　a　scarifying　switchback　road　that　snaked　through　the　forested　mountains。　Russell　sneaked　a　look　at　the　speedometer。　Considering　the　terrain；　he　thought　they　were　traveling　at　least　twenty　mph　too　fast。　He　was　about　to　say　so　when　Estilo　said　over　his　shoulder；　〃We're　being　followed。〃
　Russell　turned　so　fast　his　neck　cracked。　Out　the　rear　window　he　could　see　a　pair　of　chrome　and　black　motorcycles　gaining　on　them。　〃Jesus；〃　he　breathed；　〃so　much　for　your　security　precautions。〃　He　began　to　recheck　the　pistol　the　pilot　had　given　him。　It　was　a　large　caliber　weapon；　deadly　at　medium　range；　absolutely　devastating　closer　in。
　''Try　to　lose　them；''　Tori　said　to　Estilo；　and　the　Renault　rocketed　forward；　hurtling　this　way　and　that　down　the　winding　road；　tires　screaming　in　protest。　The　world　to　either　side　had　bee　a　green　blur；　and　the　lushly　forested　mountainsides　ahead　were　ing　at　them　far　too　fast。　In　desperation；　Russell　turned　to　the　rear　window。　The　motorcycles；　lagging　for　a　moment；　were　already　gaining　back　the　ground　they　had　lost。
　〃We'll　never　outrun　them；〃　Russell　observed。
　〃We　weren't　meant　to；〃　Tori　said　to　him。　She　turned　her　attention　to　the　driver。　〃Slow　down；　Estilo；〃　he　heard　her　say。　And　then；　〃You　know　what　to　do。〃　Estilo　reached　down　between　his　legs。
　〃Are　you　insane？''　Russell　stared　at　Tori　as　she　unzipped　her　satchel。　〃These　sicarios　will　cut　us　to　ribbons。〃
　The　motorcycles　roared　up　beside　the　Renault；　and　now　Russell　could　see　that　each　held　two　sicarios；　bristling　with　armament。　None　of　them　looked　over　seventeen。　There　were　schools　in　the　mountains　surrounding　Medellin　that　turned　out　scores　of　these　fearless；　punk　killers；　high　on　cocaine　and　the　peculiar；　frightening　power　of　the　killing　lust。　Russell　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　pair　of　sawed…off　shotguns　beginning　to　swing　down；　two　MAC…10　machine　pistols　being　leveled　in　the　direction　of　the　Renault。
　Explosions　from　the　shotguns。　At　that　instant　Estilo　stepped　hard　on　the　brakes　and；　its　rear　wheels　sluing　back　and　forth；　the　Renault　screeched　to　a　halt。　While　it　was　still　rocking　on　its　shocks。　Tori　had　opened　her　curbside　door　and；　using　it　as　a　shield；　whipped　her　arms　up　in　the　classic　marksman's　pose。
　The　motorcycles　had　meanwhile　overshot　their　prey　and　were　obliged　to　make　sharp　U…turns。　This　maneuver　meant　that　the　sicarios　riding　shotgun　could　neither　aim　nor　shoot　until　the　motorcycles　had　swung　around　and　were　heading　back　toward　the　stopped　Renault。　They　fired。
　Tori　was　holding　some　kind　of　long…barreled　pistol　that　Russell　was　unfamiliar　with。　She　squeezed　off　two　shots；　and　the　sicarios　in　the　leading　motorcycle　were　slammed　backward　off　the　bike。　It　roared　erratically；　running　off　the　road　and　smashing　into　the　underbrush。　A　gush　of　oily　smoke　rose　into　the　flower…scented　air。
　The　second　motorcycle　came　on。
　Russell　could　see　that　their　driver；　the　man　Tori　had　called　Estilo；　was　either　unarmed　or　was　making　no　attempt　to　draw　his　weapon。　Perhaps　he　had　frozen。　Russell　was　in　no　such　position。　He　might　be　a　desk　jockey；　as　Tori　had　said；　but　he　got　only　firsts　on　the　target　range；　and　he　worked　out　in　the　unarmed　bat　dojo　three　times　a　week。
　He　raised　his　pistol；　went　to　lean　out　his　window。　But　Estilo　whirled　in　the　front　seat　and；　putting　his　hand　over　the　hammer　of　the　pistol；　pushed　it　down　out　of　sight。　〃Orders；〃　he　said　laconically。
　〃But　the　sicarios…〃
　〃Paciencia；〃　he　said。　〃Wait　and　see。〃
　Tori　broke　from　the　cover　of　the　Renault　and；　slamming　her　door　behind　her；　took　off　down　the　verge　of　the　road；　back　the　way　they　had　e。
　〃What？〃　Russell　twisted　in　his　seat。　〃Tori；　where　the　hell　d'you…〃　He　tried　to　get　the　pistol　out　of　Estilo's　grip；　but　failed。
He　heard　the　blast　of　a　shotgun　firing。　''Goddamnit；　let　go；　you　sonuvabitch！　She'll　be　killed！〃
　Because　now　the　remaining　motorcycle　had　swerved　off　the　center　of　the　road　and　was　traveling　down　the　right　verge　in　direct　line　with　Tori's　flight。　The　MAC…10　was　chattering。
　The　motorcycle　was　almost　upon　them。　In　a　moment　it　would　zip　right　by　their　right　side；　and　then　it　would　be　too　late　to　do　anything　to　help　Tori。　Russell　redoubled　his　efforts　to　free　his　pistol；　but　it　was　like　battling　an　octopus；　and　he　was　unused　to　unarmed　bat　in　such　restricted　quarters。　The　intervening　back　of　the　seat　prevented　him　from　using　the　throws　and　holds　he　had　learned。
　He　could　see　the　faces　of　the　sicarios；　long　hair　streaming；　huge　grins　splitting　their　faces　as　they　rode　the　wind；　the　high　their　speed　and　their　power　brought　them。　They　ignored　the　Renault　and　its　occupants；　focused　as　they　were　on　the　woman　who　had　killed　their　patriots。　The　MAC…10　resumed　its　thunder。
　Just　as　the　sicarios　were　about　to　draw　abreast　of　the　Renault；　Estilo　squeezed　off　one　round　through　the　open　side　window　and；　at　the　same　instant；　kicked　his　door　open　wide。
　The　motorcycle　was　far　too　close　to　avoid　the　obstruction；　and　there　was　a　wailing　scream　as　it　plowed　into　the　steel　door；　tearing　it　straight　off　its　hinges。　At　the　same　time；　the　motorcycle　rose　into　the　air　like　a　bronco　spitting　the　bit。　The　vehicle　squealed　as　if　wounded；　hurled　itself　over　on　its　side。
　Estilo　was　out　of　the　Renault　in　a　flash；　and　Russell　saw　Tori　racing　back。　Estilo　kicked　the　MAC…10　from　the　dead　driver's　hand。
　As　he　got　out　of　the　car；　Russell　could　see　the　bullet　hole　in　the　side　of　me　sicario's　head；　a　clean　hit；　and　he　thought；　Jesus；　what　a　shot！
　Estilo　placed　his　left　foot　across　the　remaining　sicario's　wrist；　preventing　him　from　getting　to　his　shotgun。　There　was　blood　running　from　his　nose　and　one　ear。　Nobody　said　a　word　until　Tori　came　up。　Russell　noticed　that　she　was　not　even　out　of　breath。
　Tori　knelt　down　beside　the　last　remaining　sicario　and　said；　〃Who　sent　you？〃
　The　sicario　spat　in　her　face；　and　she　put　the　muzzle　of　her　odd　pistol　against　his　right　kneecap。　She　pulled　the　trigger。　The　sicario　jumped　as　if　speared。　His　face　went　white　and　his　eyes　rolled　crazily　in　their　sockets。　Tears　of　pain　streamed　down　his　sweat…　and　dust…streaked　cheeks。
　Tori　bent　closer。　〃The　next　time　I　pull　the　trigger；〃　she　said；　moving　the　pistol　to　his　crotch；　〃it　won't　be　your　kneecap　that　won't　work。〃
　The　sicario　said　one　word；　''Cruz。''　The　bull。　Then　he　began　to　shake　as　if　he　had　contracted　malaria。
　The　corrida　was　full　by　the　time　they　got　there。　They　had　missed　the　drug　lords　and　their　shotgun…toting　bodyguards　lustily；　patriotically　singing　the　Colombian　and　Medellin　anthems；　but　the　first　blood　had　not　yet　been　spilled；　and　that　was　a　good　sign。
　They　could　get　seats　only　in　the　sun…drenched　side　of　the　bowl…shaped　arena；　and　it　was　very　hot。　The　place　smelled　of　old　stone；　red　dust；　and　fight　frenzy。　They　were　downwind　of　the　red…eyed　bull；　currently　facing　a　rail…thin　matador。
　〃Can　you　tell　me　why　the　hell　we're　here？〃　Russell　said　to　Tori　as　the　three　of　them　settled　onto　the　backless　bench。
　〃When　Ariel　and　I　were　in　the　tunnels；〃　she　said；　〃we　overheard　a　fragment　of　conversation　between　the　two　Japanese　Yakuza。　This　was　before　they　discovered　we　were　there。　They　had　just　finished　killing　a　man　named　Rega；　who　had　seemed　to　be　their　local　contact。　It　occurred　to　me；　after　the　briefing　you　gave　me；　that　this　would　be　a　good　place　to　start。　Who　was　Rega？　That's　why　I　called　Estilo。〃
　Russell　glanced　over　at　the　silver…haired　man。　〃Who　is　he？〃
　〃Estilo　is　a　friend　of　mine；〃　Tori　said。　〃That's　all　you　need　to　know。〃
　〃It　most　assuredly　is　not；〃　Russell　said。　〃He　hasn't　been　vetted；　they　aren't　under　discipline。　I　don't　know　him　from　a　hole　in　the　wall。〃
　〃But　I　do。〃
　〃Tori；　I'm　warning　you；〃　Russell　said。　〃If　this　mission　deteriorates　into　another　one　of　your　personal…〃
　〃Go　hom