There was a Cuban restaurant on the corner almost directly across the street from Casa Guatemala, so I decided to go in to wait. A couple old guys sat in the back drinking espresso and squabbling in Spanish about something in the newspaper spread on the table between them. I took the table closest to the door and next to a window where I could see the street. An ancient royal palm with a thick brown trunk carved with hieroglyphics partially obscured the view. A waitress appeared from the kitchen, where a television was turned to a soap opera with a lot of hysterical crying. To have something to do, I ordered a plate of roast pork with fried bananas, black beans and rice. It tasted good. I couldn’t remember if I had eaten that day. I asked for a beer and tried to put my thoughts in order as I drank it. The Guatemalans had either kidnapped Monica Fullbright or scared her away. I would have to be careful. It could be easy to vanish as Monica Fullbright had, as Cathy Vega had, without any trace, and perhaps no one would look for me. My family was far away.

I stared across the street, watching the front of Casa Guatemala without any idea what I was looking for. There were no windows and the door was closed. As I was pushing the last of the beans around on the plate, a dark-haired woman came out, walked a few doors away, returning almost immediately with a loaf of bread. I couldn’t see her that well, but she didn’t seem to be the woman who had talked to me downtown that morning.

It didn’t look as if they were expecting much of a crowd at Casa Guatemala. No visible sign of activity around the building hinted that anything would happen there that night. Finally, about twenty minutes after the meeting was supposed to have begun, people began arriving. I waited until two men and then a couple in their early twenties went inside Casa Guatemala before I got up from the table. As I was waiting for my change, I saw Lupe coming down the opposite side of the street from the east in a pale pink dress. My first impulse was to rush out and wave to her, but I held back. The waitress, apparently distracted by whatever was happening on the soap opera, dropped my glass as she took it from the table, and it broke into a million pieces. I stepped over the broken glass and strolled outside. I was standing in front of the restaurant watching Lupe walk in my direction when my attention was caught by a sudden movement, a gleam of light that came from above me, somewhere over my right shoulder.