“As you say, mijo.”

“What kind of talking do you want me to do?” he asked. “I’m sure you’ve got better negotiators than me.”

“Perhaps, but you’ve got something none of our people possess. You’re a citizen of the Republic. And the Heavenly Kingdom has just issued a general amnesty for all citizens willing to repent and declare allegiance. You know how the people in this region talk. You won’t arouse suspicion if you enter.”

“So you want me to find your people. And then what, break them out? I can barely shoot straight. I don’t think I’m the man to execute a prison break.”

“They’ve got plenty of fighters, son,” Donald Farris growled. “But if Topaz and Skullfucker Mike haven’t keyed you in on this, the chromed aren’t exactly good at ‘blending.’”

“He’s right,” Nana smiled sadly. “We’ll pair you with someone who can do the violence. But we’ll need you to get them close enough to find our people and effect an escape. You’ll need to help our person maintain their cover.”

Manny felt a powerful anger boil up inside his belly.

“So, basically, you and your ‘militia’ are holding my homeland hostage? And if I don’t risk my culo to save your negotiators, Austin dies?”

“Mijo. It’s nothing as sinister as that. Our people want to fight, but…”

“But,” Donald picked up, “we’re all family here. And family comes before corrupt, fractious foreign militias and equally corrupt, fractious foreign cities. All told I’d say it’s a good deal for you.”

“What was your plan before this meeting?” Nana Yazzie asked.

Manny opened his mouth to respond, but realized he didn’t have a clear answer. He hadn’t exactly had much time to puzzle that out. And any time he’d tried, he thought about Oscar, his missing stringer, and that made him want to panic. He’s dead, or worse. And there’s nothing you can do about that. What you can do is buy a fucking plane ticket and beg the Germans to take you in as a refugee.

That seemed like a good plan. Or at least the best of a bunch of shitty options. But then a scornful voice rose up from the dark recesses of his semi-withered conscience. What about his wife? Are you just going to leave her broke and widowed? You have to at least give her something…

“I’m flying to Germany,” he said, “or maybe France. Wherever I can get the cheapest ticket, either in Austin or El Paso.”

“How much money do you have saved up, son?” Donald Farris asked. “They won’t issue a long-term visa unless you’ve got at least sixty grand, Californian.”