30
Juárez, Mexico
Rios gripped the side of the pickup as it rolled left and right up the steep slope. The jungle road snaked through a vast, black sea of countryside.
She felt fern leaves brush up against her back on the rear of the trailing pickup. Red Bandana kept a watchful eye on her and Pope. He stood with his back to the cabin of the truck as if he’d done it a thousand times.
The sky was endless and the stars out in their thousands, the smell of magnolias sweet, in stark contrast to the apprehension lurking within.
‘So is this part of some authentic tourist experience?’ Pope asked, sitting across from her.
‘It’s authentic, for sure,’ Rios replied.
‘Come on, spill,’ Pope said. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘We’re going to see Carlos Montero,’ Rios replied.
‘The name rings a bell,
