‘I, myself, am a man of faith,’ Esteban is saying. ‘The gospel decrees if you have two coats and a man asks you for one because he’s cold – give him your coat! Not a bullet in the back!’

‘I understand you know someone I should talk to,’ Duval says.

For the first time Esteban looks cagey. He glances round the restaurant, then leans forward and lowers his voice. ‘This Mexican you’re looking for ... El Turrón. He has been in prison for the last six years. He’s been gone from around here a long time.’

‘And now he’s out,’ Duval says flatly, ‘a free man.’

‘A free man, yes, but an angry one. Someone is interfering with his business. One of his men, a narcotraficante, has been using young girls to smuggle drugs. Unfortunately, two of them died. Two sisters. The drugs burst in the stomach,’ he explains for my benefit. ‘A month ago, this narcotraficante was also found dead. Now, only a few days ago, two of El Turrón’s coyotes were ambushed and locked into their own truck.’ He looks pointedly at Duval. ‘Perhaps you heard?’

‘What I heard was that the border was a better place without them.’

‘I might think so, and you might think so but not everyone would agree.’ Esteban takes a slim box from his jacket pocket and offers it to Duval.

Duval puts up his hand.

‘My friend, you must be careful.’ Esteban holds a match to the end of his cigar. ‘You don’t bait the bear unless he’s chained. El Turrón is not a forgiving man. Find him before he finds you.’

Duval looks at him coolly, then nods.

Esteban sighs. ‘There’s this little mulo, Reuben. People have heard him talking.’ He turns the palms of his hands upwards. ‘People say he talks too much. Still, I believe he has other information you might be interested in hearing.’ He leans on his elbows. ‘Nogales. In the plaza. Can you be there this evening?’

‘What time?’

‘He will come around seven o’clock.’

Duval nods his head. ‘How will I know him?’

‘There is a small iglesia on the north side of the square. Sit on the bench closest to it. But don’t worry. Reuben will find you. Reuben can smell dólares americanos from many miles away.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Duval reaches into his pocket and draws out a small roll of bills, ‘let me pay for your breakfast.’

‘No, no.’ Esteban waves the money away.

Duval looks at him enquiringly.

‘You help my people,’ he says simply, ‘and I’ll help you.’