Read Online The Green Trap by Ben Bova - Free Book Online

logos in its windows.
    Inside, it was filled with workingmen and their families, Hispanics and Native Americans mostly, sitting at sturdy polished wooden tables heavily laden with dishes of tacos, tamales, enchiladas, and bowls of salsa and guacamole. The bar displayed a long row of beer bottles, most of the brands from Mexico. The children sat in their places quietly, no crying or whining. Very little conversation. Everybody was busy eating. Country music bleated from the speakers set up in the ceiling.
    Cochrane spotted an empty table near the bar and weaved through the busy diners to it, Sandoval and Arashi trailing behind him.
    â€œOrder me a beer, will you?” Arashi said as Cochrane pulled out a heavy, carved chair. “I’ve gotta wash my hands.”
    Sandoval sat opposite Cochrane, her back to the bar. He stared into her green eyes and heard himself ask, “Are you sleeping with him?”
    Her eyes went wide. Then she broke into a girlish laughter. “Is that why you’ve been so grouchy all the way here?”
    â€œAre you?”
    â€œMitsuo? Of course not! Don’t be absurd.”
    â€œWhat’s he doing here, then?”
    Her face went serious. “Business. About your brother.”
    â€œStill on that.”
    â€œYes.”
    Arashi returned and sat beside her. Sandoval suggested that Cochrane order for all of them. Arashi put on a pout, but glumly nodded his agreement.
    Each of them had a beer: Negra Modelo for Cochrane, Corona for the other two. The waitress brought lime wedges for each of them.
    â€œSo what are you doing in Tucson?” Cochrane asked her after his first sip. He kept his voice down, just loud enough to be heard over the buzz from the other tables.
    â€œWe’ve come to see you,” Sandoval replied.
    â€œWhat about?”
    Arashi was holding his wedge of lime in two fingers, as though trying to decide whether to squeeze it into his glass or drop it in whole.
    â€œI told you,” said Sandoval. “About your brother.”
    Arashi suddenly let the lime wedge drop to the table. His grin disappeared and he quickly looked down at his empty glass.
    â€œDid you see him?” he hissed to Sandoval.
    She looked past Cochrane’s shoulder and scanned the crowded dining room. “Who?”
    â€œKensington!” Arashi answered in a frightened whisper. “He was there, at the door. He went back outside to the parking lot. He’s waiting out there for us!”
    â€œAre you certain?”
    â€œIt was him! He must have followed you from the San Jose airport!”
    â€œI didn’t see him….”
    Cochrane asked, “Who’s Kensington?”
    â€œHired muscle,” said Sandoval.
    From the terrified look on Arashi’s face, Cochrane guessed that Kensington must be really bad trouble.
    â€œWe’ve gotta get out of here!” Arashi said.
    â€œWhile he’s waiting for us in the parking lot?” Sandoval replied coolly.
    â€œBut—”
    The waitress brought their tray, loaded with three different dinners.
    â€œLet’s enjoy our food,” Sandoval said, “and worry about Kensington later.”
    â€œIs this guy some sort of goon?” Cochrane asked.
    Arashi didn’t answer; he kept staring at the front door.
    â€œHe can be dangerous,” said Sandoval.
    Pointing to the police cruiser parked outside the window, Cochrane said, “This restaurant is a favorite hangout for the local cops. State highway patrol, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if there aren’t a couple of them in here having dinner.”
    He turned in his chair and spotted two uniformed police officers a few tables away, guns on their hips, radios clipped to their epaulets. They looked Hispanic, brown skin and straight dark hair.
    Sandoval smiled at him. “That’s why Kensington didn’t come into the restaurant.”
    Cochrane said, “He probably doesn’t want to tangle with the