Read Online Beneath a Panamanian Moon by David Terrenoire - Free Book Online

refresher.”
    â€œAnd my ability to play piano, sir?”
    â€œThat’s for a party we’re throwing. Don’t worry, there’ll be a nice bonus for you.” The Colonel smiled again, lots of teeth. “A little surprise, if you will.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œDo you know what we do here, son?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œWe provide a secure place for influential and well-connected people to relax, away from prying eyes, while we train their security people. Now, considering your résumé, and the fact that you come with high recommendations, I would assume you know something about security.”
    â€œYes, sir, I do.”
    He gave me the big smile, like in the photos. “Do you consider yourself a badass, Harper?”
    â€œA badass? No, sir. But I did qualify as marksman in basic, sir.”
    He chuckled. “You ever hear of Colombia, son?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHonduras?”
    â€œYes, sir, I’ve even played for the ambassador, sir.”
    â€œOutstanding.” The Colonel studied me, perhaps for the first time. After a long moment, where the only sounds were the shush of the ocean beyond his window, he said, “Oh, and you might want to keep in mind, son, that if you give us any reason to terminate your contract, we do not use lawyers.” He went back to his camera and said, “See Kelly. He’ll get you squared away.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd don’t listen to anything Kelly says. He won’t like you, so get used to it. No appreciation of the finer things. Not a man of culture. He didn’t want me to hire you and he’d send you home if he was the boss.” The Colonel looked up and smiled. “But he isn’t the boss.”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œI’m the boss.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    The Colonel stopped smiling. He’d apparently used up his shine quota for the day.
    â€œNow, you’re excused. And close the door on your way out.”
    I went back to see Ren. “Thanks for warning me about his name.”
    â€œI like to get you off to a good start, you know. But don’t worry; he’s not the real boss. Now I’ll show you where to sleep, okay? Get your shit.”
    I followed him across the lobby and up the staircase to the second floor.
    â€œWe got a couple other new guys. One, Ramirez, is a Chicano like me. The other’s Anglo, like you. Most of the Latinos here are Cubans or PRs. Don’t get ’em mixed up, okay?”
    Ren still had that dime in his ear. “Okay.”
    â€œThere’s a big difference. All Cubans want to do is kill communists and Democrats, which to them is the same thing. You could trust a Cuban with your sister. Serious, man, because they only get a hard-on for Fidel. But don’t take showers with the Ricans. They like the white boys.”
    â€œWhat about Chicanos?”
    â€œHey, you can trust us with everything but your car, man.” Ren laughed and his teeth were perfect.
    We walked to the end of the corridor and up a smaller stairway that ran to the top floor. Here, Ren unlocked room 303, pushed open the door, and said, “This is your room. There’s a bathroom down the hall.”
    The air was hot enough to bake a ham.
    â€œIt’s the low ceiling. Traps the heat,” Ren said. “You can open the window, but then the mosquitoes get in.”
    â€œWhat about screens?”
    â€œI’ll see if I can find one tomorrow.”
    â€œAre all the rooms like this?”
    â€œJust the third floor. For us peons, man. But you got a phone hookup here, so you can plug into the Internet, you know, for the porn.”
    â€œDial-up? I have to use dial-up?”
    Ren shrugged. “Hey, it’s the third world.”
    â€œWhere do the guests sleep?”
    â€œSecond floor. The rooms there, man, are”—Ren smoothed the air with a gliding palm—“ rico . And with the guests,