Chapter 22
Frank and Brull drove south in a black Toyota towards the older part of Panama City, Casco Viejo. Frank sat in the front, watching the streets blur by. It was a modern hub of activity, punctuated by the car horns of impatient drivers. As they headed south, the buildings became more dilapidated with boarded-up ruins, interspersed with terraced colonial gems. An urban slum, fighting to restore its once great place in the history of the city.
As they drove deeper, the spectre of poverty and crime was suddenly all around them.
“Sure you’re cool with this guy?” asked Frank, as he brushed a hand across the bulk of the Glock tucked inside his jacket pocket.
“I know him for some years. It’s okay. If he asks, just say you’re a friend of mine looking for your girlfriend.”
Frank nodde
