The Cartel Hit. Don Pendleton

the persuasive words.”

      “Mano, I have been doing this a long time. And by your tone I suspect you have much on your mind.” Xavier made a welcoming gesture with one hand. “Come inside so we can talk.”

      Escobedo found himself following the priest. As he passed through the open doors he felt the silent calm reach out to blanket him. Felt the coolness within.

      Father Xavier led him past the pews, pausing at the altar, then turned and headed to the rear of the church, where he had his living quarters.

      “Nothing seems to have changed,” Escobedo said as he stood in the doorway. “It’s like I have never been away.” He paused then, guilt rising as he recalled something he had half forgotten. “Father, I ask forgiveness for not thanking you for what you did for my grandparents. How you arranged to have them buried, and let me know.”

      “You sent me a letter in reply.”

      “It was too little and too late.”

      “But you did not forget. That is the important part.”

      “Father…I…”

      “Sit down, Mano,” Xavier said.

      Escobedo slipped off his backpack and took a seat, watching as Xavier busied himself at the simple stove, boiling water to make coffee. He handed Escobedo a cup, took one himself and sat across from the younger man.

      “Your journey here now has to be more than a simple desire to return to your home,” he said. “It has to be something important to bring you all the way back from America.”

      “Perhaps I just wanted to make a visit.”

      “Mmm.” Xavier nodded. “But something more than that, I feel.” He sipped his coffee.

      “You’re right, Father. I came because I needed somewhere to hide.” Escobedo stared at him. “It was not in my heart to seek absolution. Or to burden you with my problems…”

      “But when you saw the church, the old feelings drew you here.” Xavier smiled. “It is well known the church embraces those who seek comfort. Whether they believe they need it or not.” He paused. “Is that not so, Mano?”

      Escobedo drank more of his coffee and allowed his thoughts to assemble in some kind of order. Then he told him what he had seen and the danger he now faced.

      “And do these men have guns?” the priest asked.

      “Sí.”

      “And do you, Mano, have a gun with which to defend yourself?”

      “No, Father. I have nothing. I am not a man of violence.”

      “Then you did the only thing you could, and walked away from these people.”

      “I could not think of anything else I could do.”

      “A wise move. Now, will you stay here? Or move on? This I ask only so that I can make some arrangements.”

      Escobedo shrugged. “The last thing I wish is to bring my problems to you.”

      “Do you believe these people may come here?”

      “It’s possible. I’ve been selfish and thoughtless. I thought coming here would put me out of their reach, but that was stupid of me. I need to go. Move on before people get hurt because of me.”

      “You will do no such thing, Mano. Let me think about this. I am sure we can figure out something.”

      “Ascensión is small. The people here can do nothing against these men. I will only bring trouble.”

      “Then we must get you far away. To a place where even these people cannot find you. Trust me, Hermano. I have a good friend. A priest who has a church in a small village much like Ascensión. It’s by the ocean, below Culiacán. There you can have the time to decide what you must do.”

      “This could be dangerous for you, Father Xavier. Too dangerous.”

      “Let me worry about that. Mano, it may take me a few days to arrange this. Until it is time to go you will need to remain as out of sight as possible.”

      “I could go the family farm. Now my grandparents are both dead, I’ll be alone there.”

      “Good. I will send for you when everything is ready. I can get you food, and old Quilla can lend me a burro.” Xavier smiled. “Have you remembered how to ride one?”