29
Daniel had done most of his packing last night. He’d just finished a small breakfast at the restaurant a few blocks away on the main street in Ensenada. Picking up the local paper that a previous patron had left on his table, he glanced at the pictures and did his best to decipher the Spanish headlines. Languages were not his forte. He wasn’t sure what was, so he thought of himself as an all-around agent. Ex-agent. Scowling, he pushed the thought away as he unfolded the paper to lie flat on the table.
Just below the fold was a picture of a man who was familiar to Daniel, but he couldn’t place him. When the waitress walked by, he reached out and snagged her arm, then smiled to show he meant no disrespect. She raised her eyebrows in his direction and he pointed to the picture.
“Who is
