16
Rodolfo Herrera and Ignacio Vargas moved cautiously through the trees, away from the safe-house, making for their vehicle parked hidden from view at the edge of the tree line. On the way, they paused for a brief moment and looked down at the two Federal police officers sprawled ungainly on the ground. Already the bodies were attracting frenzied swarms of flies.
Vargas smiled down at the two dead cops, wishing he had had the time to linger over their killings. The Wolf shot them both, leaving him once again deprived of the opportunity to use his beloved knife and watch the gringo cops die slowly. He would so have enjoyed taking his time with the task. Perhaps he would get another opportunity with el perro—the dog, Traynor.
“Andale!” Herrera called as he resumed walking. “We go now!”
