Another Life by Andrew Vachss

touch the other.

“You the only gringo El Cańonero ever did a job for.” Jester half-smiled, flashing his badge.

El Cańonero had been the second-most-feared sniper in the city. Never missed, never captured. He’s been out of action for years. Like the Prof always says, “If there’s a reason, there’s a season.” With UGL walking the slower road, switching from revolution to infiltration, El Cańonero was a hibernating bear. But spring always comes.

If Jester could even find Pablo, never mind get the UGL boss to vouch for me personally, his own roots went deep.

“Guatemala?” I guessed.

“I got this when I was thirteen,” he said, flexing so the jester tattoo popped. “You know what it means?”

“Respect.”

“ Sí. Only one way to get that. I was born strong, and I learned to take a beating real young. Nothing special about that, not where I come from. They had some very bad hombres in that joint, but none of them laughed at the car batteries those cock-suckers used.

“That’s how I got my name. I think it made me crazy, the pain. I don’t remember actually laughing, but that’s what they said I was doing when the puercas threw me back into the cage, after they finished their fun.

“In that cage, I had special respect. The old man who put this mark on me, he’d been locked down all his life, never to leave. He was the one who taught me. When I learned enough, I hired out.

“‘Your name can fly right over these walls,’ he told me. And it worked just like the old man said it would: One of the narco-reyes bought me a pardon. I was supposed to go work for him, pay off what it cost him.”

“Yeah, I know. A labor bond. They heard about how you handled enforcer work, so…”

“You got it.”

“That old man, he named you right. The joke was on them, huh?”

“Three of them were there, all in white. They told me what I was supposed to do. Very simple. They bought me, so they owned me. They saw a big, stupid dog. Me, all I saw was three chicken necks. Snapped like dead twigs.

“After that, I found the people the old man had told me about, and they got me across. Pablo, he was waiting, just like the old man promised.”

“You ever get enough cash together to spring him?” I asked, knowing that would have been Jester’s first move.

“More than enough,” he said. “Took a few months, but then I made the call. That’s when I found out he was dead. They killed him the day after I made my move. The powder men marched right into the prison, took the old man out of his cell, and dragged him into the yard. They held him down on a block and sawed off his head. Slow, so everyone watching would see what it cost to fuck with them.”

“Evil fucking—”

“That didn’t buy them respect, bro; it cost them. The guy who told me about it said the old man’s head kept rolling around the yard for a long time. Said his face was grinning like a cat in cream. Talk about the last laugh, huh?”

“Madre Dios!”

Jester laughed out loud. “You sad, Burke,” he said, using my name for the first time. “Pablito always said you speak Spanish like you dance.”

“I can’t—” I said. Then I started laughing, too.
    * * *
    I used my key on the three-pound padlock, opened the chain-link, and stepped into their territory, a gallon thermos of Mama’s beef-in-oyster-sauce in one hand.

The big stud strutted out, eyeballing me same as always. His world was like his little girl’s coat: black and white. Either he recognized me, or I was a dead man.

Nova was a special brand of warlord: he expected tribute, but trying to bribe him would be suicide.

I poured out the contents of the thermos on the marble slab I’d installed over the concrete for just that purpose. Nova walked over, followed closely by his mate…and that orca-spotted little female I’d been courting so long.

While the others tore into Mama’s cooking, she slipped behind me and deftly snatched the solid cube of filet she knew would be waiting, just for her. “That’s