Shepherd One Read Free Page A

van’s interior.  
    Lying on the floor in the rear of the van sat an aluminum
case. The shell was dull-coated silver and centered between the Arabs. If the
coyote knew what he was transporting, he might have forsaken the five-figured
amount. But a condition for receiving such a large amount is that he asks no questions.
Therefore, not a single inquiry passed his lips.   
    With a great prudence Juan Pallabos maneuvered across the
terrain careful not to damage an axle, and then came to an abrupt stop where
the tires skidded a few feet in the soft desert sand. Through the dust-laden
windshield he could see a battery of heat rising off the desert floor, and sage
swaying softly with the course of a hot wind.  
    Saguaro and Joshua trees dotted the landscape that was colored
with the reddish hues of sandstone, rather than the conventional yellow-brown
of desert sand. In the distance the horizon appeared uneven in pointed caps and
rises, giving it a saw-tooth appearance, which would serve as insurmountable
obstacles for Pallabos’s van.
    “We can go no further,” said the coyote, stepping out of the
vehicle. He walked toward the horizon, appraised it, and then he removed his
hat and passed a handkerchief across his brow. “The land is too uneven. My
vehicle can go no further.”
    The Arabs exited the van. Their shirts were tacky with sweat
and their flesh slick with sheen. Carefully, two of the Arabs handled the
aluminum case, one on each end, and placed it on the desert floor while the
third Arab took residence next to Pallabos.
    “Twelve kilometers straight ahead,” said Pallabos, pointing.
“Once you get over the hills, then you will be all right. The American border
is too large for the patrols to watch and maintain consistently. You should
have no trouble getting across. But stay away from cartel tunnels. Drug lords
no like others to use. But crossing over is very easy. And I suggest that you
wait until the sun goes down, si ?”
    “Then drive us as far as you can.”
    “No-no.  No can do from here. Land is too much—how you say,
difficult to cover. Must have way back, si ?”
    The Arab didn’t look at Pallabos, his eyes straight ahead.
“We could have paid someone else much less to take us further.”
    “No-no, Señor . Juan Pallabos is the best.
Everybody say so. Not possible.”
    The Arab mopped his brow with the back of his hand. The
desert heat was much drier in his homeland, which was far more preferable than
the sapping white sun that hung stingingly over his head at the moment. “Do you
want more money? Is that why you stopped?” The Arab’s tone was flat, smooth,
even.
    “No-no, Señor . Juan Pallabos is an honest
man. Van get damaged if go any further. Juan tells truth. Juan knows.”
    “Then how do you expect us to travel twelve kilometers in
this heat?”
    Pallabos smiled, intuiting the question. “Huh, Juan brought
plenty of water. Plenty of water.” He returned to the van and opened the front
passenger door. Lying on the floor were six canteens filled with water. “Plenty
of water, si ? At night it will only take three hours to cross into United States. Three. Very easy. Juan Pallabos send many across the border. Juan Pallabos
the best.”
    The Arab took a long pull of air through his nostrils and
released it in an equally long sigh. “Then I guess we no longer need your
services.”
    “ Si , Juan provide. Juan the best, si ?”
    “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Pallabos, we cannot leave any
witnesses behind. I’m sure you understand.”
    Pallabos’s face dropped, his features taking on the sudden
looseness of a rubber mask.
    Reaching behind him, the Arab withdrew a Sig. with an attached
suppressor from the waistband of his Dockers and fired the weapon three times
in rapid succession, dropping Pallabos to the desert floor.
    Returning the weapon, the Arab, who was tall and lean and
walked with a mild limp that served as a vestige after combating American
troops in Iraq, moved toward the