Palm trees line the streets, and beautiful girls walk on the beach as the Pacific surf rolls in. In the summer, the breeze is cool and the sky is blue—but you’ve seen it on TV. The hotel was old. The elevator was tiny. Going up to Zena’s room, I was jammed tight against Victor. Something hard dug into my leg. “What’s that?” I said. The door opened and we stepped out. “This?” said Victor, reaching into his pocket. “This is a pistol. As you see, I am now pointing it at you. Please. The lovely Zena’s room is that way.” He motioned with the gun. And one look at his face told me that he might use it. This was a new Victor, one I’d never seen before. I went up to Zena’s door and knocked. Victor was right behind me. As the door opened, he pushed hard against my back and I staggered in. By the time I found my balance, he had closed the door and was leaning back against it, the gun still in his hand. Zena had backed up against the bed. Three suitcases were piled on top of it.
