That Agent drank, and killed himself driving drunk into a bridge abutment on Highway 90 near Silver City.Osvaldo was more-or-less accepted then, never...really talking much to anyone, other than the 'clients' he filled out I-213 forms on and brought in for 'voluntary return' to Mexico. Occasionally, he was pressed into service at interrogations, to look mean. His planar features bore a scar from a fight at Theodore Roosevelt High, back in The Bronx.Every once in a while, Osvaldo would drive to. The South Atlanticocean was only hundreds of yards away. It lookedmore like a prison than a mine. Peter stopped thevehicle and waited as a big, black guard with amilitary‑style rifle approached the driver's side. Asecond guard watched them warily. "What do you want?" "We came to see the diamond mine." "Who are you?" "Just tourists." "Do you have an invitation?" "Yes. No, not exactly. We were told there was adiamond mine here, and we wanted to see it." "You can't. More

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