"My mother tell me that," said Delcazar. "I never seen him. He died in Mexico City when I was a little niño."
"Then why are you so het-up if you don't know anything about it?"
"It's dangerous, Crawford," said Delcazar, catching at his arm. "It's the most dangerous thing ever hit this brush. You better get out of it while you're still alive. It's got the whole brasada going now. No telling how many are mixed up in it now. The Mexican government has an agent up here somewhere."
"Huerta?"
"The man at Rockland's?" said Delcazar. "I don't think so."
"Huerta was the one who told me about your uncle," said Crawford. "Funny nobody has come hunting you. You're a logical link."
"They have," said Delcazar. "I wasn't here to greet them."
"Who?"
"That ramrod Tarant hired to clean out the brush," said Delcazar. "Him and his whole corrida."
"Quartel?" Crawford's eyes narrowed, staring past Delcazar. "I hadn't thought of him."