No long wait, no thorough inspection, no unpleasant questioning, and no one making things difficult—plus saving forty dollars in transit fees—Raymond Brooks passed through the US-Mexico border with absolutely no sense of experience.

Chapter Six Name

Opening his eyes, he saw the ceiling. Closing them and opening again, it was still the ceiling.

His mind felt a bit empty; for a moment, he didn’t know where he was. It seemed like he’d had a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember what it was about.

It wasn’t until he heard the steady sound of snoring and turned to see Cap sleeping on the other bed that Raymond Brooks’s awareness suddenly filled the blank in his mind.

It wasn’t a dream—everything was real. He was now sleeping in a motel bed, and more importantly, in a motel bed in San Diego.

He first picked up his phone from beside the pillow. Local time: 5:58 a.m., April 16, 2018. It was about time to get up.

He rolled over and sat up, reached under the pillow for his handgun, and after turning it over and over in his hands several times, Raymond Brooks felt that if he ignored the part about being kidnapped yesterday, this could be called a dream come true.

Just then, the alarm clock on the nightstand started beeping. Cap, who had been sound asleep a moment before, suddenly sat up and quickly reached out to turn off the alarm.

With a long yawn, Cap, woken by the alarm, looked at Raymond Brooks, then at the gun in Raymond Brooks’s hand, and suddenly asked, “Why are you holding a gun?”

Raymond Brooks replied sincerely, “Because I like it. I’ve never… uh… never held a gun like this before.”

Cap waved his hand impatiently and said irritably, “Heh, a Glock is just a tool, not a work of art to be admired. Put your gun away and get to work.”

No one knew how Captain had negotiated with the middleman, but they had agreed to meet here for the transaction at 6:30 a.m., so it really was time to get up and get to work.

The so-called work was to hand over Art and collect the final payment.

Last night, Raymond Brooks had spent a long time calming Art down, making him believe he was safe. But to prevent Art from doing anything stupid, Raymond Brooks and Cap had to sleep in the same room to watch him. With only two beds in a standard room, there was no way Art could get one—he had to sleep on the floor.

Poor Art, what he went through was the real nightmare.

Raymond Brooks gave Art a push, and Art immediately woke up in fright, looking fearfully at Raymond Brooks and Cap.

Cap signaled for Raymond Brooks to speak. Raymond Brooks said in Spanish, “Wake up, it’s time to get up. The people coming for you will be here soon.”

It was clear that Art needed a moment to process his situation. After staring blankly at Raymond Brooks for a while, he slowly sat up and clutched his chest, saying, “I think I broke a few ribs.”

Raymond Brooks’s expression didn’t change as he said gently, “The damn kidnappers broke your ribs, but it’s good you survived.”

“You… you’re right. Damn kidnappers. Thank God I was rescued.”

At this moment, Art didn’t seem quite so foolish anymore.

Raymond Brooks helped Art up—after all, with a few broken ribs, it was hard for him to get up on his own.

Cap opened the door. Outside was directly the yard, not a hotel corridor. After glancing outside a few times, Cap nodded at Raymond Brooks, so Raymond Brooks helped Art out of the room.

Captain, Ernest, and Joey hadn’t stayed at the hotel. Instead, they’d switched cars, abandoned vehicles, and after a lot of trouble, ended up sleeping in their own car for the night.

The drug dealers’ car had to be ditched to avoid being discovered by the Zetas. Even though they’d crossed the border, it wasn’t unusual for Mexican drug dealers to cross over and kill people.

So only Raymond Brooks had a good night’s sleep. After all, he’d just spent twelve hours on a plane, then got kidnapped, then went through a bunch of life-and-death situations. He couldn’t have stayed up all night with Captain and the others even if he wanted to.

Now they had to leave in two cars: Captain’s car in front, Ernest driving behind.

The cars didn’t take the main road but followed a small path, heading away from San Diego. As the scenery outside the window grew desolate, Raymond Brooks saw a car parked by the roadside ahead, with a man and a woman standing beside it.

They had arrived at the meeting spot. Captain was the first to get out, waved at Raymond Brooks and the others, and then Raymond Brooks helped Art out of the car.

This was the first time Raymond Brooks had seen Captain up close and unobstructed. He looked about forty, with a typical white man’s face, brown hair, and a well-maintained, strong physique.

The woman rushed over and hugged Art tightly, tears streaming down before she could even speak. Art was equally emotional, exclaiming, “Mom…”

What a touching mother-and-son reunion. Even Raymond Brooks felt gratified, but Captain and the man by the car just watched coldly. The man pointed at the car door and said, “Get in.”

After Art and his mother finally got in and closed the door, Captain said coldly, “Pete, now it’s time to talk about…”

Before he could finish, Art rolled down the window and said to Raymond Brooks outside the car, “Thank you, I will…”