The Power of the Dog (Power of the Dog, #1)

by Don Winslow

Callan don’t like it one bit. He’s in the backseat of a stolen fire-engine red Suburban—the vehicle of choice among the narcotraficante cowboys—sitting beside Raúl Barrera, who’s cruising around Tijuana like he’s the fucking mayor. They’re rolling down Boulevard Díaz Ordaz, one of the busiest streets in the city. He has a Baja State Police officer driving and another one in the front seat. And he’s tricked out in full Sinaloa cowboy gear, from the boots to the black pearl-button shirt to the white cowboy hat. This is no fucking way to fight a war, Callan thinks. What these guys should be doing is what the old Sicilians would do—go to the mattresses, lay low, pick your spots. But this apparently ain’t the Mexican way, Callan has learned. No, the Mexican way is macho—go out there and show the flag.