The next morning, Pedro swept up the glass, plugged the bug into a new housing, and placed it gently on the counter. He dusted the display case, adjusted the gold teeth in the tray, and smiled his crooked smile.
Pedro cleared his throat. “Hey, jefe . You forgot to pay the repair fee.”
Instead, he leaned into the radio’s grille and whispered, “Welcome to El Depositario . How can I help you?”
The leader ripped the radio from the shelf, smashed it open, and found only the bug—still blinking, still live.
The man left too quickly.