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Andes mountains down into the valley and make things unseasonably miserable, but thankfully this year there had been none of these unexpected surprises. Seasons in South America, like in Australia, were the reverse of the northern hemisphere, so April was in reality autumn for the region, which enjoyed a kind of Indian summer during that period, before plunging into a cold and snowing summer.
    The young man pulled his pea coat around him as he made his way past the small markets and cafés on one of the main arteries, stopping at his favorite to buy coffee and a breakfast roll. Groups of high school students loitered across the street, smoking and talking loudly as they waited for their classes to begin. Leaves blew down the sidewalks and into the deep storm drains that bordered every street, acting as a kind of informal network of tunnels for the region’s stray dogs. The man paid the smiling cashier and shouldered past the line of waiting patrons, all in a hurry to eat and run, the business day about to start for the offices around the stock exchange building, to be followed a few hours later by the retail shops at the street level.
    He passed in front of the Park Hyatt hotel and meandered through the large park that was a central feature of the downtown tourist area. Groups of Rastafarian-inspired hippies were laying out blankets on the sidewalks of the park to display their handcrafted wares, consisting mostly of leather wallets and beaded necklaces, with the ever popular multi-colored friendship bracelets a staple. An odor of marijuana lingered over the bunch, and the man hurried past them lest one try to engage him in conversation.
    The park denizens were largely friendly and cheerful, in spite of their living in near poverty conditions in a nation that was bankrupt fifteen times over. The papers were predicting more power shortages and gas rationing for the year, and the unofficial exchange rate put domestic inflation at twenty-five percent, even as the government number was more like three. Nobody took the official utterances seriously, just as nobody took the tax system seriously. If a small business didn’t cheat early and often, it wouldn’t be in operation for very long. The official tax rate was so high that it rendered most types of commerce impractical, creating a booming secondary economy that operated on an all-cash basis.
    The man took in the grandiose buildings of the downtown pedestrian promenade as he sipped his coffee. Mendoza was an odd town – strangely prosperous due to the surge in demand for the region’s excellent wine, while the rest of the nation languished, but with a frailty just below the surface that was uniquely Argentine. Nobody believed that lasting prosperity was possible, which was a direct function of the looting of the country for decades, culminating in the 2002 financial collapse that wiped out much of the nation’s middle class and gutted its economy.
    He paused in front of the small storefront two blocks from the park and set his coffee down on a planter as he fumbled with a key ring. After a few moments, the steel grid that protected the plate glass window slid up into its housing, and he found himself staring at his reflection. Longish dark brown hair with sun highlights worn in a laisser faire style, a perennial three day growth of dark stubble, high cheekbones and piercing, nearly black eyes staring out of a light brown complexion. A pair of non-prescription horn-rimmed eyeglasses completed the look, which for all appearances was that of a scattered young academic, or perhaps a painter or sculptor who’d met with moderate success.
    He studied the result with satisfaction. The man looking back at him bore little resemblance to the cold-blooded international cartel super-assassin known as ‘ El Rey ’ – the King of Swords – made infamous by his leaving a tarot card bearing the image of the seated king at the scene of his executions. No, that man was thinner, younger,