Santiago, who had won many street fights in his time, dropped to the ground as if devoid of life.

Carlos and Jesus were the only two left standing— they made a headlong dash for the bar. There was a small storeroom at the rear of the bar—they might escape that way, if they were lucky.

The big man caught Jesus by the hair and body-slammed him through a table. Jesus lay groaning, his left arm bent at an unnatural angle.

As Carlos vaulted the bar the gringo did the same, blocking his path. The barman skidded backwards on his ass like a crab, yelling that he didn’t want any trouble. The gringo silenced him with a short backhand swipe across the jaw.

“I guess you win the prize,” said the smaller gringo. “You’re the last man standing. Now you get to spend some quality time answering my questions. Now, the answer to my next question better had be ‘Sí, señor,’ or you’re gonna get it worse than any of these dickwads. Habla inglés?”

Carlos nodded vigorously. “Sí, señor. I speak very good English.”

“That’s good. Now we’re gonna have a wee chit-chat. Sit your arse down and tell me what you know about the missing kids we’re looking for.”

Carlos was propelled back to one of the few upright tables. He sat without resistance. A sideways glance at the big man was all it took; his face was deeply scarred and chilled Carlos to the bone. Who the hell were these men? Not tourists, that was for sure.

The smaller man pulled up a chair of his own. He produced a photograph from his pocket, unfolding it carefully. Carlos stared at the picture. It showed a portrait shot of a young woman. She was very pretty and her deep brown eyes carried both intelligence and a curious innocence.

“Have you seen this girl?”

Carlos shook his head. The smaller gringo was difficult to understand, his accent now thick with anger.

“Take another look! She would have been with another two women and a young man.”

Carlos glanced around the room at his friends, all lying in various states of desperation. A couple groaned, clutching their faces. Mateo and Diego lay so still he feared them dead. He turned back to the picture. “I have never seen this girl. I would have remembered someone as pretty as her. I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”

The big man clamped his hand around Carlos’s neck, his fingers digging deep. “Let me break his arm, then we’ll find out if he’s telling the truth or not.”

To Carlos’s relief, the smaller of the two held up a single finger. The big man released his grip and shoved him away. The low bestial growl he gave caused Carlos to squirt a little urine into his underwear.

“Okay, so you didn’t see her.” As the smaller man leaned closer to Carlos he could see a cold ferocity in his eyes.