to discover that his instincts were correct—the gringo was well-known in Petare.
Brodie asked, “Where can I find him?”
Cordero didn’t reply. He took the photo from Brodie and walked back toward the truck, then whistled to Rojas, who was now examining the Dart’s trunk. The four men crowded together in discussion. Brodie noticed that each man barely looked at the photo, though they all stole a number of glances at Brodie and Taylor as they spoke. There was a consensus, and Cordero walked back to Brodie and handed him the photo and their passports.
“You go.”
“Where can I find my amigo?”
Cordero gestured toward the road. “Go.” He said something to Luis, who translated: “We are very sorry for the inconvenience and wish you a beautiful visit.” Cordero turned and walked back to the truck. Brodie eyed the three other guys, who looked back at him with a mix of curiosity and what he thought was a touch of fear. Maybe respect. Apparently Kyle Mercer was one bad hombre. No surprise.
Luis climbed in and started the car. Before Taylor got in, she said to Brodie, “That was reckless.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Please consult me before you risk our lives and freedom.”
“All’s well that ends well.”
“Any more clichés?”
“You’re beautiful when you get angry.”
“Asshole.” She got in the car and slammed the door.
Brodie got in the front seat and said to Luis, “Good job.” He said to Taylor, “We just learned something. Our man is well-known here, and he’s a very important gringo.”
Taylor thought about that and said, “I guess they would have found the photos if they searched us.”
“Correct.” He said to Luis, “Avanti.”
They entered the slums of Petare, and Brodie asked Luis, “Will we get stopped by the police for a shakedown? A bribe?”
“No,” Luis assured him. “There are few police in the barrios.”
“Good.”
“It is too dangerous.”
“Excuse me?”
“In the barrios, the colectivos are the police.” He explained, “The colectivos are armed by the government, which allows them the power and the money from the drugs and the prostitution.”
Sounded like The Godfather Part Four with a Latin twist.
Luis continued, “In return, the colectivos help the regime… eliminate other gangs and also the political opposition. It is believed that many of the people who died in the protests were actually killed by colectivo members.”
Brodie thought of Luis’ nephew, and wondered if their driver might have another motivation—beyond money or asylum in America—for risking his ass in Petare.
Luis went on, “The state oil company, too, profits from the prostitution and drugs, and also the military and National Guard are given money and power if they sit and do nothing.”
Brodie wasn’t sure this was a good business model, but it seemed to work here.
Luis admitted, “It is all a little confusing, and the power shifts sometimes, but those who want the power and the money understand it.”
“Right.” He and Taylor would sometimes argue about which country was more corrupt, Iraq or Afghanistan. Well, Venezuela wins.
Brodie said to Taylor, “The good news is that the police are afraid of Petare.”
“I think that’s the bad news, Scott.”
“Right. Sorry I asked.”
“Me too.”
CHAPTER 22
Brodie looked around as they crept along the narrow, winding road. Petare was a study in urban chaos—buildings piled upon buildings, and mountains of trash massed along the roadside. Tangles of jerry-rigged power lines ran up and down the red clay–block façades, and there was graffiti everywhere, much of it political. Along one wall was a mural that offered a cartoonish rendering of Venezuela’s pantheon of heroes—Bolívar, Guevara, Chávez, and a couple of other military figures that Brodie didn’t recognize. Maduro, El Presidente, was up there too, off to the side and disrupting the intended symmetry of the mural, like an afterthought slapped on out of political necessity.
It was almost ten in the morning, but the streets were quiet. Brodie guessed there wasn’t much reason to leave the house when there was no work, no food, and no hope. They passed two old men playing dominoes at a plastic table in front of a garage full of old car parts. The men passed a cigarette back and forth between them.
Taylor said to Brodie, “Let’s show them the photo of Mercer.”
“Let’s not let everyone in Petare know we’re looking for Kyle Mercer.”
Luis, who hadn’t previously offered much in the way of investigative advice, said, “It is perhaps better not to alert the people here that you are looking for someone.” He added, “News travels fast in the barrio.”
Taylor said to Brodie, “That may be a good thing. If we can’t