The black 66 Mustang rolled silently through tt<br >streets of the Barrio; like a rusted-out ghost-t<br >Pleasant Avenue， across one of the side streets t<br >Park， down Park to One Hundred and Third， aero<br >One Hundred and Third and up Madison. It cruise<br >past the cuchifrito joints， past the travel agent<br >marked "~riaies，" past the botanicas where you couJ<br >buy monkey fists or frankincense or "chinese wash" i<br >take off the hex some bitch aura had put on you.<br > Inside the car， two men talked a little and careful<br >watched the lonely three A.~. streets brightened on<br >occasionally by a rare， still-open bar whose fiat<br >jukebox sounds splashed eerily into the night.<br > The younger of the two men was driving. He w~<br >about twenty-eight， and tall. His head nearly touche<br >the low roof of the Mustang. The other man was i<br >his early forties， dark-skinned， good-looking wil<br >wavy black hair puffed into a little pompadour in tt<br >center.<br >