Night of the Jaguar Read Online Free

more?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œI should get in uniform.”
    â€œI’ll get you some water.”
    The soldier fumbled for his clothes. Ajax stood, took a breath and turned, half expecting to see someone standing in the corner. For a weird moment he knew there would be, but … but what? That would be crazy. He slung the AK over his shoulder, spotted a gourd water jug on a table in the corner, and tried to pour some into a scarred plastic cup. His hands shook too much. As quietly as he could, he panted to catch his breath. His heart raced and his stomach churned. He poured a cup of water, gulped it down then poured one for the soldier. It was then he noticed a bulging pile of wet rags and newspapers heaped under the table. Damn . He looked over his shoulder, lifted the rags with his boot. Underneath he could just make out a head, gray hair matted with blood. The priest’s rosary still gripped in his hand. Pobre padre. The kid might be battle crazed, but the bishop and the antigovernment press would have a field day with this. His poor girlfriend would be forgotten.
    â€œHow do I look?”
    The soldier had on his fatigue jumper and bush hat.
    â€œYou look like a soldier.”
    â€œGot another Marl-burro?”
    Ajax shook out a Red, lit it, tucked the pack into the soldier’s breast pocket, buttoned it.
    â€œYou keep them. I’ll get more.”
    â€œYou buy them on the black market?”
    â€œWell. Let’s say I get them from the black market.”
    Ajax gave him the jug of water. He drank it down in great gulps and poured the rest over his head. He took a long drag and slowly blew a trail of smoke to the ceiling, seeming to notice something in the dark. He looked Ajax in the eye, gently touched the red-and-black Policía Sandinista insignia on his shoulder and whispered, “Ajax. I know why you’re here. I know what I did.”
    Ajax knew it was now or never. He took the soldier by the arm and quickly kicked away the barricade from the door.
    â€œCome on, Fortunado. It’ll be all right. Te lo juro .”
    â€œI know.”
    He stood with the soldier in the doorway. The sunlight blinded him but the soldier hardly blinked at all. Ajax eyeballed Gladys and saw her check her Bulgarian-made watch. He was not sure how long he’d been in there. Gladys turned toward the sharpshooters, now mustered in a line, and said something that made them snap their rifles to the ready. She turned to Ajax and touched her wrists together. Chica’s got a thing for standard operating procedure, he thought, but he was damned if he’d handcuff someone already so caged. He adjusted the soldier’s AK over his shoulder to show her he had it under control. He signaled Gladys to be at ease. She and the sharpshooters obeyed.
    Ajax shaded his eyes, an old habit. Reconnoiter before moving from shade to light. Then he stepped fully outside with his arm around the soldier’s shoulder. Slowly they walked out. Gladys frowned when the soldier took a drag on the Red. Ajax nodded at her and walked steadily on. They had cleared out the neighboring houses and the barrio was very quiet. He heard the soldier take another drag, and exhale as quietly as … as quietly as …
    He was distracted for a moment, a sound, something. Something changed. The noise didn’t register. The soldier stopped, looked up, plucked the Marlboro from his mouth and ground it out. Then Ajax heard it again—a single crow caw. He turned to the soldier, wanted the soldier to look at him one last time. Later, he was sure he could’ve fixed it if the kid had looked at him. He tried to throw a bear hug on Fortunado, pull him down. But the moment had passed and all Ajax got was a punch—a pile driver to his solar plexus. He dropped like a stone to the dirt.
    â€œListo!” Gladys yelled.
    Ajax heard rifle butts snap to shoulders and saw the soldier’s legs pump toward Gladys.