Griffin shook his head. “That won’t be easy. Zales testified against the Cardinellis in several of the trials. He refused witness protection because he didn’t trust us to keep him safe. I wouldn’t even know where to look for the guy.”
“I would,” Lynch said. “Mexico.”
After waiting a moment for him to elaborate, Metcalf said dryly, “Any particular part of Mexico? It’s kind of a big place.”
“Playa Ensenada, last I heard. He was running a hole-in-the-wall cantina that caters to locals, mostly. I know the woman who helped broker the sale.”
Griffin picked up his phone. “I’ll reach out to the Mexican authorities.”
“Don’t,” Lynch said. “They might tip him off and then he’ll be in the wind. You’ll never find him.”
“We can’t cross the border without contacting local law enforcement.”
“You can’t,” Lynch said. “But Kendra and I can. We’ll find Rick Zales and talk to him.”
“I can’t permit you to do that.”
“It’s not your decision,” Kendra said. “As private citizens, we can travel when and where we want. Unless you’re prepared to put a freeze on our passports.”
Griffin looked between the two of them. “Shit. I don’t want to know about this, okay?”
Lynch nodded. “Unless we find Zales and get some information we can use. Then I assume you’ll be most anxious to know about it.”
“That’s a safe assumption, Lynch. But for now, get the hell out of here before you say something else that can get me in trouble.”
* * *
Even with a stop by Kendra’s condo to pick up her passport, Lynch and Kendra made it past the Mexican border in less than an hour.
As they sped down the 10 Highway, Kendra looked out at the Pacific Ocean. It was a clear day, and the water was sparkling.
“It’ll only be another forty-five minutes or so,” Lynch said. “It’s only a short hop to Ensenada and El Hobo Muerto Cantina.”
Kendra slowly turned to look at him. “That can’t be the name of the place.”
“Sure it is.”
“Seriously, El Hobo Muerto? The Dead Hobo?”
“Yes. They serve strong drinks in tall glasses.”
“What kind of clientele would spend an evening out at a place with that name?”
“You’re about to find out. Don’t be such a snob. From what I understand, they do a very good business there.”
“Trust me, in my wild days after I got my sight, I hung out in lots of scary places. I’m not above any of them.”
“You’ll have to take me to some of them someday.” He gave her a sly glance. “Maybe the bartenders will give me some embarrassing Kendra Michaels stories.”
“I don’t embarrass easily. But I’m sure you’d be very amused.”
“No doubt.”
Kendra smiled, imagining Adam Lynch in some of those dive bars where she’d spent her early twenties. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized he’d probably find a way to fit in. He always did, wherever he found himself. She turned back toward him. “How well do you know this Rick Zales?”
“Not very. During the year I spent undercover, I saw him maybe a dozen times. I actually helped him dismantle a small airplane one night. The boss had seized it from a competitor and wanted to send a message. So Zales and I took it apart, ran it through a compactor, and delivered it to the rival’s front yard.”
Kendra was almost afraid to ask. “With the pilot still inside?”
“No. Though that was discussed. Zales stole the plane from its hangar. Resourceful guy.”
“Sounds like it. Are you sure he’s gone straight?”
“Hard to say. People in that world have a hard time leaving it, even though Zales has a strong incentive to lie low. He testified against half a dozen men who would now very much like to kill him. Even this hole-in-the-wall bar in Mexico is probably too high-profile for his own good.”
“Once we find him, I hope he’s in a talkative mood.”
“He will be. I’ve found that I’m pretty good at putting people in that mood.”
She studied him warily. “That sounds ominous.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Depends on how cooperative Zales will be for us.”
“No matter how painful it becomes for him?”
“Just the fine art of persuasion. It’s an art that can take many forms. If one doesn’t work, you just move on to the next.”
“Did you employ this art during your FBI days?”
“There were times when it became necessary, particularly when I was undercover. But let’s just say that my palette was much more…limited.”
“What about your employers now?”
“It’s an advantage of being freelance. My employers are