Nope, for sure these are not Feds. Their circle is closing in on me, and there aren't any witnesses around. Where did everybody go?!
"Sir, it is in your best interest if—"
Punching this creep's face lets me know that there's absolutely something wrong with him. Can't stop to think about how his face is like foam, not when I'm running for Enrique's car. Not when those six or seven suit-wearing fools are chasing me down like a pack of mad dogs.
And definitely not when I discover that Enrique's car is gone.
Yelling and shouting doesn't bring him back and there's no sign that anyone in the area gives a flying freak about what's happening. Sprinting down a major street in Mexico City, dodging people left and right, and there's an avalanche of white coming down on me.
"Excuse! Me! Sir!"
No
