She sat on the chrome and leather sofa. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got all kinds of booze here. I’ve got weed, cocaine..” She held up her h...nd. “It’s very nice to offer, but I don’t use d**gs. My father was killed by the Cali cartel. Every time I look at weed and coke, I can see the bl**d on it.” This made me pause. Her moral sensibilities were better than mine. My admiration began then. “And your mother is still alive?” “Oh yes, she lives in a very old Colonial manse in the Distrito. Several of the men, especially those low in the hierarchy, smiled at the thought of enough fresh steak to go around.They advanced slowly, coming down the bank of a relatively shallow creek. The fact that this creek wasn't brimming over with drainage didn't seem to occur to the men, as they were nervously looking for human targets. Half a mile north of them, an expediently constructed dam was holding back three acres of water, though the man in charge of the operation wondered how much longer it. More

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