Cutter (39 page)

Hi
s
expressio
n
almos
t
turn
s
t
o
sadnes
s,
bu
t
h
e
quickl
y
recover
s
hi
s
fera
l
smil
e.
I
t
i
s
a
smil
e
tha
t
intimidate
s;
i
t
doe
s
no
t
sugges
t
pleasur
e
o
r
humo
r
.

‘I
f
th
e
mone
y
wasn’
t
s
o
goo
d,I
thin
k
I
woul
d
hav
e
a
goo
d
tim
e
carvin
g
yo
u
u
p
wit
h
you
r
ow
n
blad
e,
Marc
o
..
.
Yo
u
bette
r
ge
t
ou
t
o
f
her
e
quickl
y.
You
r
las
t
mes
s
ma
y
b
e
you
r
fina
l
mes
s.
’

I
ca
n
se
e
hi
m
u
p
i
n
th
e
hill
s
o
r
th
e
mountain
s
wit
h
Emilian
o
Zapat
a
o
r
Panch
o
Vill
a.
H
e
i
s
th
e
kin
d
o
f
India
n
wh
o
woul
d
prefe
r
t
o
us
e
th
e
machet
e.
H
e
i
s
th
e
ma
n
wh
o
ha
s
move
d
ou
r
good
s.
H
e
i
s
ou
r
internationa
l
middl
e
ma
n,
bu
t
h
e
i
s
nothin
g
mor
e
tha
n
a
ver
y
dar
k
India
n
wit
h
a
n
intimidatin
g
grimac
e
plante
d
perpetuall
y
o
n
hi
s
lip
s
.

‘G
o
quickl
y,
the
n,
gring
o.
Yo
u
wil
l
neve
r
se
e
m
e
agai
n.
Yo
u
wil
l
dea
l
wit
h
othe
r
me
n
fro
m
no
w
o
n.
Yo
u
ar
e
to
o
ho
t
t
o
mak
e
direc
t
contac
t
wit
h
m
e
anymor
e.
G
o
wit
h
Go
d,
Marc
o.
H
e
i
s
th
e
onl
y
on
e
wh
o
wil
l
hav
e
yo
u
no
w.
Adio
s.
’

H
e
reache
s
unde
r
th
e
lon
g
mahogan
y
tabl
e
an
d
presse
s
a
butto
n.
Immediatel
y
Juanit
o
i
s
bac
k
wit
h
u
s.
H
e
i
s
carryin
g
th
e
gauz
e
an
d
th
e
ey
e
cove
r.
Onc
e
he’
s
don
e
hi
s
jo
b,
I’
m
escorte
d
ou
t
o
f
th
e
citade
l
o
f
Guerrero’
s
castl
e
o
r
fortres
s
o
r
hideou
t
o
r
whateve
r
i
t
i
s
tha
t
h
e
lurk
s
insid
e
.

I
f
they’r
e
goin
g
t
o
cu
t
m
y
throa
t,
thi
s
woul
d
b
e
th
e
momen
t.
A
s
Juanit
o
lead
s
m
e
ou
t
o
f
th
e
doo
r,
I’
m
anticipatin
g
th
e
slic
e
o
f
a
blad
e
acros
s
m
y
jugula
r.
I’v
e
don
e
i
t
t
o
other
s
s
o
man
y
time
s,
i
t
woul
d
b
e
a
fittin
g
wa
y
fo
r
m
y
en
d
t
o
com
e.
An
d
i
f
m
y
en
d
i
s
t
o
com
e,a
knif
e
woul
d
b
e
m
y
ow
n
persona
l
choic
e.
Th
e
sweetnes
s
o
f
tha
t
bleedin
g,
th
e
slo
w
drainin
g
awa
y
o
f
al
l
hope
s
an
d
ambition
s.
Th
e
slee
p
tha
t
woul
d
pu
t
it
s
dar
k
han
d
ove
r
m
y
eye
s
an
d
finall
y
pu
t
m
e
t
o
permanen
t
res
t.
Tha
t
ther
e
i
s
n
o
hel
l
an
d
n
o
heave
n
i
s
m
y
onl
y
certaint
y.
Ther
e
wil
l
b
e
a
n
en
d
t
o
thi
s,
onl
y
a
n
en
d.
Ho
w
i
t
wil
l
com
e,
I’
m
no
t
sur
e.
Whethe
r
i
t
wil
l
b
e
Juanit
o
o
r
Guerrer
o
o
r
Ellen’
s
vil
e
brothe
r
o
r
som
e
Chicag
o
policema
n
make
s
littl
e
differenc
e
t
o
m
e
.

Dreamles
s
slee
p.
Oblivio
n.
The
y
ar
e
m
y
version
s
o
f
paradis
e.
S
o
com
e
o
n,
Juanit
o.
I
f
yo
u
hav
e
th
e
knif
e
i
n
you
r
han
d,
us
e
i
t.
D
o
i
t
quickl
y.
D
o
i
t
deftl
y
.