His laughter was daunting, and it brought chills up her spine.
“Cat got your tongue, Paul? Emma,” His eyes had a crazy look. “How would you like to have these buttons made with your name painted on them? I can’t guarantee that your death will have the same effect as Pablo to the great people of México, but who knows, it might.” He saw her attempt to stop someone walking by, and put his arm around her tightly. “There’s nothing you can do about this so handle it with grace. You see that stage over there?” He pointed to the south. “The band is about to begin playing, and oh, I think it is the song for Pablo. Ha! If they only knew what was happening so close to them. Do you want to know why we’re doing this, Emma? Really?”
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