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Tori waited until the dark…skinned man drew his gun。 He raised it； aiming at Cruz's heart。 With a great kiai shout。 Tori lunged forward； the hardened underedge of her hand snapping the bone in the dark…skinned man's extended forearm。
She was aware of Cruz turning in a defensive crouch； the contraction of the circle of his bodyguards； their shotguns swinging down in concert。 Screams from the crowd； the beginnings of a core of panic from those bystanders nearest the incident。
There was no reason for haste now。 Tori twisted the gun from the dark…skinned man's trembling hand； held him up as his legs gave way beneath him。 His head fell loosely in shock。 As she saw the vulnerable spot at the back of his head； she thought of the bull； lying in its own blood in the red dust of the corrida below her。 In this； she thought； Estilo is wrong； there can be no beauty； no artistry in this。 Death is its own realm； it is finite； and when it es； it es； finis。
Cruz was shouting to his bodyguards； and they nimbly stepped around the fleeing people。 All of them were focused on her。 Cruz moved along the are of the tier to where Tori stood； holding the dark…skinned man。
When she judged Cruz close enough。 Tori grabbed a handful of the dark…skinned man's hair； jerked his head up so Cruz could see his face。
〃Do you know this man？〃 Cruz asked her in a voice made hoarse by the proximity to death and by his innate suspicion。
〃He is from Cali；〃 Tori said。 〃He was to be a gift from the Orolas。〃
〃A final gift； it would seem；'' Cruz said； taking the gun from her。 He examined it； then looked full into Tori's face。 〃He had to get close to use this。 He wasn't going to get out； was he？〃
〃Not today。〃
Cruz put the muzzle of the man's gun against the back of his head and pulled the trigger。 〃Not any day；〃 he said。
Cruz lived in an enormous suite on the top floor of the Monaco Building； a glitzy apartment dwelling in El Poblado； Med…ellin's choicest district。 His men patrolled the surrounding block； and there were two guards armed with shotguns in the hallway of his apartment。 Inside； the living room was lined with bear and leopard skins； Flemish tapestries； and his lieutenants…more sicarios。
Because he had summarily executed the Orola assassin without first interrogating him； Tori had lowered her estimation of Cruz。 But it would have meant a loss of face in front of all those paisas had he not killed the man immediately； and his business would no doubt have suffered as a consequence。
He was not a bad…looking sort； though he was flat…faced。 His black hair came down in a widow's peak； he wore it slicked back； very long against his neck。 But he scowled a great deal； he had an overactive trigger finger； and he was much feared in and around Machine…Gun City。
Certainly the Orolas found him something more than a nuisance。 Just about three months ago he and ten of his sicarios had ambushed the youngest of the Orola brothers at the El Cerrito tollbooth。 He had been making inquiries of Cruz's contacts with the Bolivian cocaleros…the coca farmers who grew the plant from which cocaine was ultimately refined。 Cruz had not taken kindly to what he had seen as an act of war； and he had retaliated in the only true language he spoke。 The five…minute hail of bullets fired from the massed MAC…10's of Cruz's sicarios had taken out not only their target； but his three bodyguards； a dozen human mules moving one hundred kilos of raw cocaine； and four bystanders； not to mention taking the concrete and tin tollbooth apart at the seams。 Cruz had bragged about the kill for weeks afterward。
〃This was not the first attempt on my life made by the Orolas；〃 Cruz said as they seated themselves in his enormous living room。 〃But they are inpetent。 They do not know how to refine the art of killing。〃 He was bragging again； but what the hell； Tori thought； he was safe； in the center of his own turf； with the scalp of another of his enemies fresh on his fingers。 He was entitled。
Tori made the introductions； and Cruz listened politely but； she thought； a bit disinterestedly。 She was prepared to do something about that； but only at the right moment。
〃Do you know what this country would be without me and the people like me？〃 Cruz said。 〃Fucked。〃 He laughed。 〃Ask the economists； if you doubt me。 The Colombian economy is so fragile； like the glass of one of my Ming vases。 Without cocaine trafficking to prop it up； our country would be plunged into a recession so severe I fear there would be no end。 No； no； on second thought don't ask the economists； they're a bunch of maricones。 Ask the people of Colombia； they will tell you the truth。 They do not want this internal war the president has pushed on the country。 They are sick of their government。 And I am sick of planting bombs in post offices and government buildings。 In my opinion the government of Colombia is dead。〃
His self…promotion was like a cheap perfume； Tori thought； making everything around it reek。 She already felt contaminated by his braggadocio。
Cruz's woman； Sonia； was servilely making the rounds； getting drinks for everyone。 Tori thought she looked a little pale beneath her rich tan。
Tori sat next to Russell on a long sofa covered in pinto horse…hide。 A Chinese vase…one of several throughout the room…sat on the center of a Lalique crystal cocktail table just in front of her。 She noticed that the brocade curtains half closed across the windows were lined with metal foil。 She wondered whether this made them bulletproof as well as soundproof。 〃Do you know what you're doing？〃 Russell asked her。
She said； 〃Are you good at improvisation； Russ？ I hope so。〃
Cruz grunted。 〃So。 Now you are here。'' His tone and manner suggested that this was all she was likely to get from him by way of a thank…you for saving his life： an invitation to the great man's sanctuary。 He gave the impression that he was already bored with their pany。 Perhaps he had e to believe that he was immortal； that her intervention had been irrelevant。 Or； just as likely； his absolute power had corrupted him absolutely； and he was now nothing more than a pig。
Either way； Tori decided； she was going to shake him。 This fat man； Cruz； was not so different from others of his ilk。 She knew what made him tick： power and sex； in that order。 But for him； as for the others like him； sex was not so far away from power； and often the two were inextricably entwined。
Sonia was important to him。 When she ceased to be important； Cruz would see to it that she disappeared from his life。 She would be thrown into the gutter and made to stay there。 But for now he conferred his power upon her like a shadow； and she in turn gave to him the aura of her sexuality。 And this aura of hers had about it a kind of magic。 Like a dice shooter on a roll； Cruz was convinced he had luck on his side。 Luck in the form of Sonia。 This； too； made her his showpiece； in bed as well as out there in the streets of Machine…Gun City； where he cut his deals； cut down his enemies； where he was king。 The paisas watched her ing and going； and they envied Cruz his ability to attract and keep this woman with the sultry eyes。
Cruz was looking pointedly at his watch when Estilo