The Mexico Run by Lionel White Read Free Book Online Page B

Bongo's prints on file if there is any question in your mind."
        He looked up at me. "Why should there be a question?"
        "No reason."
        "And where is Bongo now?"
        "Bongo is dead. He was killed by the Saigon police. He made a social error."
        He smiled a rather tender smile.
        "Bongo was always making social errors. I am surprised he lasted as long as he did."
        Again he hesitated for several moments.
        "And just what, Mr. Johns, can I do for you?"
        "I understand that you are attached to the narcotics division of the-"
        He half lifted one of his nicely manicured hands to interrupt me.
        "No longer," he said. "Homicide. Are you interested in narcotics, Mr. Johns?"
        I didn't give him a direct answer. Instead I said, "My information, captain, is that you are a man of certain connections and a man who has influence in certain quarters."
        "If not narcotics, then what are your interests, Mr. Johns?" he asked.
        "I am interested in meeting people. In a sort of way, I am an importer."
        He took the gold-rimmed dark glasses off, wiped them with a silk handkerchief, and for a moment stared at me with a pair of the coldest eyes I'd ever seen.
        "Why don't we stop talking in circles and come to the point? Just what is it you're looking for, senor?"
        "I'm looking for a connection. A source of supply for something I would like to import into the States."
        "And you believe that I could arrange those connections?"
        I told him that I hoped he could.
        He put his glasses back on and spoke in a very soft voice. "You mentioned, before, my having been with the narcotics division. Your interest, then, is in narcotics?"
        "Not precisely. My interest is in marijuana."
        He looked up sharply and then suddenly laughed.
        "The way you took that weed out of the little lady's mouth," he stopped, beginning to chortle.
        "I'm not looking for a personal supply," I said. "I'm looking for bulk, and it has to be good. It has to be the very, very best."
        "And is that all? Just marijuana? I can tell you now that it will be most difficult to get it across the border. You can buy it here easily enough. But after one or two trips-"
        "I am not interested, captain, in connections for getting it out of the country. I'm only interested in a reliable source of supply. I thought, perhaps, you might be of some assistance to me."
        I hesitated then, took my wallet out, and found the two five hundred dollar bills I had saved from the money-belt. I laid them on the table at my side. He watched me and then laughed again. "And what are you planning? To buy a thousand dollars' worth?"
        I shook my head. "Not unless they sell several hundred kilos for a thousand dollars," I said.
        "You are interested in several hundred kilos?"
        "The first time around, yes. The second time, I'm interested in tonnage."
        He seemed to be mildly impressed. He stood up and crossed the room, put his hand out and picked up the two five hundred dollar bills.
        "You seem to have a great deal of faith in my connections, senor."
        "A great deal," I said.
        "And assuming that I am able to steer you in the right direction, just how would you plan to pay for this hundred or so kilos of marijuana and perhaps, later on, those tons you mention?"
        "Cash," I said. "American dollars, or pesos, if you prefer it that way."
        "And where would you want delivery?"
        "Ensenada."
        He nodded his head thoughtfully.
        "I believe it could be arranged. It may take a week or ten days."
        He hesitated a moment, looking down at the two five hundred-dollar bills in his hand. "And these?"
        "A sign of my appreciation."
        "And you say you are prepared to pay in cash?"
        "I will have the money with me," I said. "Of course, the