Songs for Perri

by Nancy Radke

  Did anyone ever retire from this job?

  She asked the last question and all three assured her that agents retired all the time and took up other forms of work. Safer work; like being policemen or high-rise steel workers. They also informed her that the most dangerous occupations were farming and fishing. Their answers made her feel they knew why she had asked.

  They talked idly among themselves, commenting on the bull fights and Mazatlan in general and Perri struggled to enter the conversation and keep it light.

  Owen drove back to the restaurant to pick up Alvaro's tracking device, while the others entered the hotel by a back entrance. When Owen returned, and he and Joe secured the device into a large amplifier built especially to transport such items. Walt doctored Perri's face as best he could with cold compresses and aspirin.

  Later, Joe transformed Owen into Hugo and back again, teaching him the mannerisms and tone of voice that accompanied that character.

  Owen was good enough to pass all but a very close inspection and left wearing an old wide-brimmed hat to help disguise himself. He carried Hugo's wig, contacts, leather jacket, dark glasses and passport in a small satchel. As soon as Joe and the others picked up Alvaro Sunday morning, he'd return to this room as "Hugo" to fly out with the band on Monday.

  "We'll take you out with us, Perri," Walt explained. "I daren't let you try to fly alone, and I don't want attention drawn to the band. We'll use Owen's car. He just got it. It can't be traced to anyone."

  Joe changed to Donegal. The long wig effectively hid his short hair, transforming him once again into the cocky entertainer with blue eyes and southern drawl.

  All went smoothly. After the show was over, Donegal changed back into Joe and they went up to Hugo's room. It was still undisturbed. They moved Perri's things in through the connecting door. She watched as Hugo locked it securely from both sides.

  "You had a key to my room," she accused him, suddenly realizing it. Walt had gone into the bathroom and she felt free to voice her anger.

  "Yes," he admitted. "I rented it as a suite, telling them you'd pay for your half when you arrived."

  "Of all the...! So that was how you were able to get the envelopes in. I wondered about that."

  "I had to be able to check on you."

  The invasion of her privacy angered her greatly, out of all proportion to what happened. She knew she was being unreasonable, but it was the last straw. "And my credit card?"

  "Sorry about that. I have it. Here." He pulled out his wallet and handed it to her.

  "Why?"

  "Walt asked me that, too. I took it on the spur of the moment, thinking it would make it easier to get to know you. Walt said, ‘No,’ he wanted you to go right home, so he gave you the money...which I placed in your room while you slept."

  "You and Walt," she fumed. "With all your clever little games. I'm glad this is almost over. I hate all the lying and deception. It makes me feel unclean."

  His face hardened. "It has to be done."

  He looked hurt, and she had to steel herself against sympathy. "Not by me. Not anymore."

  He turned away abruptly, his fists clenched and she flung her suitcase onto his bed and started to pack. Walt reappeared, and for his sake, both she and Hugo switched into neutral.

  A call to the hospital revealed that Anna's condition had improved greatly. The doctor was very impressed with the first aid she had received, saying it had saved her life.

  Walt, Joe and Perri smiled at one another, relieved that their troubles hadn't killed an innocent person.

  With everything ready for an early morning departure, they settled down for four hours of rest. Perri insisted on curling up in the chair in Hugo's room while the two men stretched out on the bed.

  "I don't have to be on the alert tomorrow; you do," she pointed out and conceding the point, the two were asleep as soon as they lay down.

  Perri lay awake, a light blanket covering her, staring silently into the darkness. Tomorrow would bring this all to an end. They would pick up Alvaro and drive to the border.

  Only a little while longer. If Hugo could act like he loved her for one more day, she could hide a broken heart for that long. Afterwards, she would return to work, take a buying trip to North Africa, and try to recover where Walt couldn't see her. She didn't think she could stand his sympathy.

  The first light of day had not begun to gray the blackness when Owen, dressed as Hugo, came to the room. He was to remain as Hugo, leaving with the band on Monday.

  The other three left and entered Owen's car. Owen had unscrewed the dome light, so Perri fumbled her way into the back seat while Walt and Joe stored the luggage, then entered the front.

  A pause of less than a minute near the restaurant, where Alvaro slipped into the back seat beside her. Then they were off, driving north up the highway.

  Through bleary eyes, Perri watched the dark shadows of night turn into the shrubbery, barns and houses of daylight. Owen was safe. They had Alvaro. It was finally over. They were leaving the country at last.

  She should have been happy, but she felt like someone on their way to prison. The ache of love unreturned dulled her happiness. Yet it would be intensified a hundred times when this was all over.

  While in the car together, she was still close to Joe. Even though it hurt, it was preferable to being separated. Once they crossed the border, she'd have to get away from him...to start the healing process.

  By the time the sun was shining full on the land, they had covered two hundred miles and were well on their way to the border. Long stretches of deserted highway allowed Perri, Walt and Alvaro to sit up and relax, but as the light grew brighter and people became more prevalent, they were forced to spend more and more time hunched down in their seats, out of sight.

  They had piled two coats on the back ledge to prevent following cars from seeing in easily, but they had to avoid being seen by passing cars and pedestrians along the way. Perri covered her head with her scarf. Alvaro was wearing a hat and he kept it pulled down low over his eyes.

  Joe kept a running commentary going, sometimes serious, usually humorous, about the areas they were passing through. The rusted Oldsmobile swayed drunkenly on corners and dips, betraying its weak shock-absorbers. Owen had stocked it with food, so Joe only had to stop for gas.

  So far he'd had to stop once, at a small service station. Everyone used the bathrooms, but the stop was short; only the station attendant saw them, and they were soon on their way again. There had been a telephone there, and Perri had glanced at it, asking Walt if he wanted to contact Luke Rogers and have him send a car to meet them; but he said he had already had Joe call him.

  Ten minutes later, traveling north, Joe abruptly ended his commentary and began to watch the rear view mirror. Walt had fallen asleep and Alvaro looked like he was about to do the same. It was Perri who noticed, having slept before the stop. "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "That car behind us. I'm sure it went by while we were stopped for gas. Either that or its twin."

  Alvaro opened his eyes and looked bewildered, so Perri quickly translated. He raised his head just enough to look over the back of the rear seat. "He's not very close," he said in Spanish. "I don't see how you can tell anything."

  Joe slowed the car down and the other car drew closer but made no attempt to pass.

  "I've never seen him before," Alvaro said.

  "I can't tell, in the mirror...but he looks vaguely familiar to me," Joe announced. "Perri, take a peek; see what you think."

  She did as he said, careful to peer between the coats. "I've seen him before," she announced after one good look at the fair hair and youthful-looking face. "It's Junior."

  "Junior?" Perri could tell by Joe's puzzled comment he had forgotten the young man Hugo had so labeled.

  "Vic. He was on the same plane as me...when I came to Mexico. He rode with us in the front seat of the cab."

  "I remember."Joe slowed down even further. "Well, he's not attempting to pass. S
tay down. He could just be a cautious driver; but I don't like this at all. I think I'll see what he's up to before we get to some hilly area where he could try to run us off the road. I don't like letting others set the stage."

  Joe pushed his foot down, hard on the accelerator and the car shot forward as if someone had goosed it with a cattle prod.

  "Owen mentioned the motor in this thing. It used to belong to a drug-runner," Joe announced as they rocketed down the highway. The car behind accelerated also, but with each moment it became clear it was losing ground.

  "Are we losing him?" Alvaro asked, anxiously.

  "If there's someone waiting up the road, we might have trouble, but if Junior's the only one, he'll not catch us in this. I guess we won't have to make a stand after all." Joe patted the wheel with satisfaction and switched back into English. "I've a feeling though, I'll see that young man again. If you three weren't along, I'd stop and seek him out right now."

  "Why?" Perri asked.

  "With his timing, he could be the "Scorpion."

  "What?" Perri spun around, feeling the shock invade her body. She held her breath, mesmerized by the fear the deadly name caused in her, staring back at the car that had already dropped to a hundred lengths behind.

  Suddenly she was certain. The man who had visited with her kidnappers. It had been Junior...the Scorpion! His was the voice she had heard.

  "You're right," she cried. "I'm sure of it."

  "Now we know who he is, we'll catch him."

  "How clever of you," Alvaro praised them. His hands shot out to seize Perri, spinning her onto her back, her head clamped precariously in the crook of his arm. "Now slow the car or I'll break your girlfriend's neck!"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Perri clawed at the arm of iron pressed painfully against her larynx. Her heart catapulted into a discordant frenzy; her breath wheezed as she struggled for air.

  Alvaro was speaking English. Beautiful, almost unaccented English.

  His right hand, thrust professionally under her chin, gripped her jaw in a cruel vise. On his fingers she could smell the corn tostadas they had just shared.

  The car slackened speed abruptly. "I'm slowing," Joe snapped. "Ease off!"

  "There's a side road coming up. Take it."

  Joe did so, and Alvaro eased the pressure just enough Perri could breathe. She sucked in air, still unable to believe what was happening.

  "So you're the Jonah. No wonder Owen was going in all directions. Everything he tried to do, you countered," Joe exclaimed bitterly.

  "Quite so. I was in touch with Viktor all the time. My trap was more successful than I planned; I got both you and Putnam. I’ll take care of Owen after he vouches for me." The urbane smoothness of his voice cut with a raw slash into Perri's mind. Here was a killer more deadly than the Scorpion. One who had in cold-blood planned the destruction of her family. The sweat on her body chilled in the sweltering heat.

  Soon she felt the car turn onto the side road, crunching across the gravel and swaying in and out of the large dips and bumps. With each dip, Perri felt their chances lessen.

  There was nothing she could do. She wasn't even strong enough to pull Alvaro's hand away from her chin. When she dug in her nails, he simply choked her until she stopped.

  If she hadn't have been in the car, would Alvaro have been able to take control so easily?

  Was her presence going to cause the death of all of them?

  Joe stopped the car and half-turned to look back. "This is it, then?" His voice was calm, quiet. Dangerous.

  "Of course." Alvaro spoke with an boastful assurance that iced the last of Perri's hopes.

  The car behind stopped; its door slammed. The Scorpion! Coming like the grim reaper. Intent on murder.

  Viktor wore the same savage expression Perri had noticed the day Hugo called him "Junior" in the taxi. It was the face of a man to whom human life was nothing. The face of a killer. "How do you want it?" he asked Alvaro.

  "An accident, like we planned."

  "No problem."

  Alvaro chuckled with malice, evilly savoring his revenge. "Another accident for Walt Putman."

  Perri's mind, in shock, struggled to understand. What accident? Her mom's? Or the explosion fifteen years ago?

  "Wake Putnam up," Alvaro added. "I want him to know what's happening. Everything. Then get out, very slowly—keep your hands in the clear."

  Carefully Joe woke Walt, then opened the door and stepped out, hands high. He looked back to explain to a plainly puzzled Walt, who then turned to stare closely at Alvaro.

  "Carlos!" he exclaimed, his face turning white.

  "As you see," Alvaro sneered, "I'm not as dead as you thought. I set the bomb in the plane, then never got on."

  "Nor I as dead as you planned, with your bomb," Walt countered grimly. "That must have come as a nasty surprise when you decided to act as a defector."

  "Very much. You were the only one who could identify me. My luck held when your son casually mentioned you while we were still in Cuba. Of course, he couldn't know I knew you."

  "So you ordered me taken out of the way." To hear the two men sitting there quietly discussing murder was in itself deadly frightening.

  This was a side to her step-father Perri had never seen: the cold, calculating professional. Biding his time, trying to feel out his enemy. It made him a stranger. Hard. Unfeeling.

  "Of course. While I delayed your son in Cuba." Alvaro shrugged. "Only your wife took the car."

  From where she was held, Perri could look directly into Walt's face. A tremor passed through him, his face darkening horribly...his mouth moved as if in muttered revenge...yet what he said without speaking aloud was, "Faint. As soon as you're outside, faint."

  It wasn't what she expected to see. Her hopes quickened. What did he have planned?

  Faint? It wouldn't be hard to do. The calm, almost bragging claim of murder had made Perri's head grow light. She blinked to let him know she'd caught the message.

  Even with the Scorpion holding a gun on Joe and herself held in a choke hold, Walt's command was a steadying factor. All was not lost. The instructions meant Walt planned something.

  "So he killed her, trying for me?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  Alvaro shifted, adjusting his hold on Perri, his hand hot and clammy on her face. "Yes...although he would have had to kill her anyway. She saw him drawing his scorpion symbol as she walked by in a restaurant. Her step faltered and her face went white. Viktor realized she knew what it meant. He followed to make sure she drove the car."

  "You bastard!"

  "We thought you would come to help Owen, but lost track of you. So I called your daughter. Viktor followed her down, expecting you to link up in Mazatlan. Once she got here, we just had to follow her." He laughed, cruelly. "Your son tried to give me hope; thought I was discouraged enough to return to Cuba."

  "He won't make that mistake again."

  "Perhaps." Alvaro plainly wasn't bothered. "He'll never know. I will luckily survive this accident. You won't. Now, get out. You can see how long your daughter can swim."

  Walt fumbled with the seat belt, then opened the door, almost crawling out...like a man made older than his years.

  In the meantime, Perri was hauled awkwardly across the seat and out the rear door; Alvaro holding her so as to break her neck if necessary.

  Joe was standing, spread-eagled, his hands on the fender, Viktor several feet behind him. As they emerged from the car, Viktor tossed Joe's handgun to Alvaro.

  At the same time, Walt stepped clear of the offside door.

  To faint wasn't going to take much acting. Alvaro's last statement informed Perri she would be the first to die. He was choking her again. She clawed at his arm for a second, moaning, then slumped, relaxing all her muscles to become a dead weight.

  That did choke her. Cursing, Alvaro dropped her on the rocky ground. Her head smacked against the earth with a hard thump, making her ears ring. He kicked her in the hip, hard
and painfully. No sound passed her lips. Eyes closed, praying furiously, she was too paralyzed with fear to make a noise.

  Could she stay quiet if he kicked harder? What was Walt planning? Praying desperately, she held her breath, anticipating the blow of a bullet.

  A single shot. Then a whole volley.

  The thud of a body landing nearby made her eyes fly open. The flurry of bullets ricocheting around the boulders, spitting dirt and tiny rock fragments across the area forced Perri to duck her head again.

  Alvaro was down next to her. Joe had scrambled behind the hood of the car. Walt was out of sight. A shot from the rear of the car showed Walt's position, making the Scorpion leap close to the car for cover. He crouched alongside the tire, trying to shoot at Walt and Joe from below. He was paying no attention to Perri. It gave her an opportunity to escape...but she didn't take it.

  Sudden rage boiled at this man who had killed her mother and was trying to kill the two she loved. Wrenching Joe's gun from the lifeless hand of Alvaro, Perri shot him.

  It didn't kill him. He spun around, his gun muzzle aimed at her. She was without cover; the only thing nearby was the body of Alvaro.

  The Scorpion smiled, an evil, satisfied smile gleaming in his eyes...the cold reptilian eyes of death.

  Perri froze, waiting for the shot.

  The shot was loud, zinging by her ear, while the Scorpion spun to fire again at Joe...who had edged around the back of the car and shot Viktor just as he shot at her.

  Released from the hypnotic hold of his eyes, Perri scrambled into a nearby ditch.

  Two more shots followed her. Nothing hit.

  Caught in a crossfire between Joe and Walt, Viktor finally fell. Joe edged around the car and kicked the gun from his hand. Her stepfather emerged from the other side.

  "The Scorpion has his stinger gone, Walt. You okay?"

  "Yes. You?"

  Joe didn't bother answering. "Perri?" he called sharply, his gun still covering the dying form of the Scorpion. "You hit?"