“The lie doesn’t have to be water-tight. It only has to be plausible enough to make the world hesitate and reconsider. It gives them breathing room,” Daniel said.
“Breathing room to do what?” Olivia asked.
Daniel shook his head. “You’re the politician,” he replied. “I just work around here.”
“You’re sneaky. This is right up your alley,” she pointed out. “Why would you manipulate the truth like that?”
“If it was me?” He blew out a breath. “Well, it stopped everyone from looking for terrorists under every bed. Maybe they know who it is and want to deal with them without everyone watching. Or they need time to deal with them.”
“Time and a distraction,” Olivia summarized. “That sounds like someone fighting a rear-guard action, doesn’t it?”
Daniel snorted. “No one has the power to put the United States on a defensive footing. Even when they went down for the count after 9-11, they still popped right back up and came gunning for the bad guys.”
“If they were being proactive, they would return my calls,” Olivia replied. “They would reach out and suck up whatever help we could give them.”
Daniel hesitated. “Then I have no idea what’s going on.”
Olivia shook her head. “Neither do I and I don’t like it. Not one bit. It feels…” She scrunched up her nose. “This will sound stupid.”
“Some of the best ideas in the world started off as stupid ones,” Daniel said. He flicked the phone he was holding with his fingernail. “Right now I want to kiss the dude who came up with communicators on Star Trek. We got cellphones out of that and because of them, I can see your face and talk to you whenever I get a moment. You have no idea how good it feels.”
Her heart shifted. “I imagine your work is lonely, most of the time.”
“Not for this war, it isn’t. I’m surrounded by people. I think there are more Loyalists on the island than are parked in Acapulco, or on the Big Rock. The Insurrectos make new Loyalists every day, every time they issue another idiotic civilian imperative.” He blew out another breath.
“They’re squeezing too hard,” Olivia concluded.
“Far too fucking hard,” Daniel agreed.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you? If everyone knows who you are, they can point to you if they need to.”
“Careful is my middle name.” He held up his other hand, his finger raised. “Wait, you were going to say something you thought was stupid.”
“I’m reaching,” Olivia admitted. “I’ve never been one on the other side of the international line when the States has…” She let out a breath. “Okay, here it is. You tell me if I’m being paranoid or not. Any time America has got an international operation in the pipe, ready to go, the first thing to be shut down is communications outside the borders. Nothing gets out, not until the action is underway. We would get orders at the embassy to put up the shields for forty-eight or seventy-two hours. Only at the end of that time would we reach out to other countries and announce what we had done. It was that way when they went after Bin Laden and a dozen other operations I can’t talk about.”
“They’re gearing up for action?” Daniel asked.
“Paranoid, right?”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe not.” Then he grinned. “It’s a lot better idea than them crouching in a defensive ball in the corner.”
* * * * *
On the return to Acapulco, Minnie slept on the bench in the now-empty cabin, while Adán drove the boat. The daylight made the journey far less hazardous once they were out of sight of Vistaria.
He was alone with his thoughts and the sun and the wind. The waves rocked the boat and making the engine chug. The sea was still high after the hurricane and would be for another week yet, although the boat was a sturdy one.
Adán was happier than he had been in a long time. The restlessness that had been gnawing at him was gone. He might die at any moment, for he was a combatant, now. There was even a pistol sitting on the dashboard. Duardo had dropped it there and patted it, before kissing Minnie and stepping up onto the dock. The idea of dying suddenly at the hands of the Insurrectos might once have sent Adán into a panic. Now, though, it sat as a hard kernel at the back of his mind, a possibility and nothing more. If it happened, it happened. He’d do his best to avoid it, of course, but his death wouldn’t be meaningless. Not anymore.
The high seas slowed his return across the channel. He tied up at the marina shortly after twelve-thirty. Loyalist soldiers in civilian clothes came running along the jetty as he wound the rope around the boll, their boots thudding on the planking.
Minnie emerged from the cabin, rubbing her eyes and blinking at the heat and brightness of the day.
Rubén Rey came striding up, in jeans and a baseball cap and a windbreaker to hide his pistol. “You made better time than anyone thought you would with the sea up as it is.” He held out a hand and hauled Minnie up, then Adán. “Minnie, I used the green Camry to get here. It’s at the far end of the public parking lot.” He held up the keys. “You should report in to the Chief of Staff. I imagine she’ll have some things to say.”
Minnie took the keys. “Did she bite you very hard?”
Rey shrugged. “I told her what you said. Free, white adult, etc.” He glanced at his watch. “Only, there’s a diplomatic something or other that has the house in a spin. Calli has everyone running. She could use your help.”
Minnie smiled. “Thank you.” She hurried up the dock, while the soldiers swarmed over the boat, opening the water tanks and hauling hoses.
“That wasn’t all Calli said, was it?” Adán said, watching Minnie leave. He looked at Rey.
Rey’s smile faded. “I was reminded that we are on a war footing and the good of the country comes before personal liberties.”
“Ouch.” Adán winced. “Although, she has a point.”
Rey straightened. “I’m not here just to collect Minnie, either.”
“Oh?”
Rey pointed to the three story white marine clubhouse at the end of the quay. “I reserved a room for you. Go and get a few hours’ sleep while we load the boat. Then you’re heading back again.”
Adán rubbed his chin. It was bristly. “More food?” he hazarded.
“Everything but food,” Rey said. “If the Insurrecto patrols catch you with this load, they will put a bullet in your brain.” There was no amusement in his face at all. He studied Adán steadily.
Adán gathered his new-found calm around him. “Munitions,” he guessed.
“And more. We’ve cleared out the caves beneath the house. They want everything there with them.” He jerked his chin up and Adán looked along the dock. Pairs of soldiers were carrying long boxes and crates between them. They looked heavy.
“I don’t know what was in the cave,” Adán said, “although I doubt it will all fit on the boat.”
“You’ll be running continuous shipments until the push,” Rey said. “Now I’ve clocked your time there and back, I know you’ll be running right up until…well, then.”
Adán held up his hand. “I don’t need details.”
“You won’t be getting them,” Rey assured him. He held out a hotel room card. “Room 301. Order a meal, too. You’ll need it.”
Adán took the card. “And coffee,” he added.
“Oh, lots of it. I have stay-awakes back at the house. I’ll bring them with me next time.”
“You’ll wake me?”
Rey dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a cellphone and held it out. “Give me your number.”
Adán took the phone, thumbed the contacts app and entered his cellphone number. “Fans would offer you hundreds of dollars for this number, if they knew you had it.”
Rey snorted. “I’m not your pimp.”
Adán laughed. “I hadn’t considered it that way.” He handed the phone back. “Sleep sounds fantastic right now.”
“There’s a side door on this end of the club house that the room
key opens,” Rey said. “Fire escape stairs are right there. You don’t have to go through the lobby.”
“You are a prince among men,” Adán replied.
Rey waved him away. Adán skirted the pairs of soldiers and moved up to the end of the pier and onto solid ground. He crossed the spread of pale grass ailing in the late summer heat to the glass door Rey had mentioned.
Climbing the stairs to the third floor told Adán exactly how tired he was. He could go without sleep for twenty-four hours or more. He had done it many times when in the middle of filming. He always crashed hard as soon as he stopped moving, though.
He was reaching that point fast, now. He’d worry about eating and coffee when he woke. He could always take both food and coffee with him.
The room was four doors down from the fire escape. He leaned against the doorframe, exhaustion pulling at his mind and his limbs. He struggled to get the key to register and unlock the door. It was a flimsy thing with bent corners that he worked back and forth into a flatter plane before trying again.
“Hello, Adán.”
The purring voice sent a spear into his gut. Adán spun around.
The woman from the hospital wing opening. Blue eyes, hourglass figure.
Serrano’s wife.
“You!” Adán breathed.
Someone grabbed his arm and a foul smelling cloth slapped over his face, blinding him and stealing his breath.
He struggled, fear blooming.
Dark nothing rushed at him and swallowed him.
Chapter Eleven
The new Mexican ambassador to Vistaria, Marisa Lupita Roldán, was on the two o’clock plane from Mexico City. Calli pressured the airport administrator into reserving one of the first class waiting lounges as a reception area for Calli and her team to greet the new ambassador.
They even pushed Téra into diplomatic duty. She washed and changed into a skirt suit which didn’t fit and high-heeled pumps that were too tight. She wound her hair onto the top of her head and pinned it. A woman in the attic shuffled around the mattresses and held out a pair of pearl earrings, with a warm smile.
Téra thanked her and hurried carefully down the stairs in her borrowed heels. The house was in the last round of cleaning up and preparation for Marisa Lupita Roldán’s arrival. Téra sidestepped the cleaning crew and moved out to the minivan waiting for the reception party.
Calli sat in the front passenger seat, an iPad in her hand, studying Roldán’s profile. She didn’t look up as Téra settled onto the back bench, beside Minnie.
“Hurry, please,” Calli told the driver, as the door shut. “The ambassador will be the first to deplane. We can’t be late.”
The private got the car moving, spitting gravel as they circled the fountain and headed out through the big wrought iron arch over the gates and onto the main highway.
They arrived at the airport as the plane was landing and hurried into the first class waiting lounge, which had been cleared out as requested.
Calli touched Téra’s shoulder and held out the iPad.
Téra looked at the photo of Roldán. She was a mature woman with frank streaks of gray in her hair, which was piled on her head as Téra’s was.
“Wait for her at the gate and bring her here,” Calli said.
Téra nodded and hurried to the domestic arrival gate to watch for Roldán. When she saw her, she reigned in her surprise. Roldán was tall, which the photo had not showed. She wore leggings and flat shoes and her hair was down, making her appear a lot younger than the gray hair hinted at.
Roldán walked right up to Téra. “You look like a lady waiting for someone important,” she said. Her voice was deep and rich. “Will I do, instead?”
“Ambassador Roldán. Welcome,” Téra said. “The Chief of Staff to the President pro tem of Vistaria is waiting in a lounge, down the concourse. Let me take you to her. Do you have baggage tickets? We can collect your bags.”
Roldán raised her brow. “I was told you were all living hand to mouth up here. I didn’t bring baggage, other than this.” She turned to show her back and a heavy backpack hanging there. “And you’re wearing a suit! I’m flattered.”
“It’s not mine,” Téra admitted, wiping at the skirt. “And the shoes are killing my feet.”
“Oh dear. We’d better get you off them quickly. What is your name?”
“Téra.”
“Lead on, Téra. Let’s get the formalities over with.”
Téra took her back to the lounge area and opened the door.
Calli got to her feet and held out her hand. “Ambassador Roldán. It’s good to have you with us.”
Roldán shook Calli’s hand. “I appreciate the formality, Señora Escobedo, as I know how pushed you are for resources and time right now. I understand the President is on the Big Rock and I will deal with you?”
“And through me, the President,” Calli said. “We have a communications system that is completely secure.”
Roldán raised her brow. “Completely secure? My government would be interested in such a system.”
“Lots of governments would be,” Calli replied, with a smile. “We may be open to sharing the technology with our friends.”
Roldán’s smile was sunny and amused. “I can see we will get along famously.” She patted the strap of her backpack. “I have all my luggage. I confess I have a weakness for Vistarian Mescal. Perhaps we can toast our newfound cooperation over a glass or two?”
Calli’s smile grew. “That can be arranged.”
“I believe Téra would like to return home as quickly as possible to take off her shoes.”
Calli laughed. “We have a van waiting to take us back to the big house. This way.”
Téra trailed after the pair of women, with Minnie and the others. Minnie leaned toward her. “I like her,” she breathed.
“Me, too,” Téra admitted. “There’s no bullshit about her. I thought diplomats were all two-faced and smarmy.”
“Olivia isn’t.”
“Bet she doesn’t walk into the White House wearing leggings, though.”
Minnie grinned. “Probably not, although Roldán will fit right in at the big house. We shouldn’t have bothered with all the cleaning. She won’t even notice.”
* * * * *
The minivan was parked at the far end of the pick-up area, the engine idling and the side-door open. The driver didn’t move when Calli waved him forward. She sighed.
“I need to stretch my legs, anyway,” Roldán said philosophically and turned and walked toward the van. Calli caught up, as did everyone else. Roldán had long legs—almost as long as Calli’s. Everyone else had to hurry to stay with them.
Téra’s feet weren’t just throbbing anymore. They burned. The heat from the pavement seemed to suck right up into the ball of her foot and lodge there. Every step hurt.
Calli knocked on the glass of the passenger side-door as she drew level with it, and bent to peer inside.
She straightened up with a snap. Her hand slid beneath the back of her jacket and she pulled out a gun and cocked it. “Everyone, back inside! Now! Move it!”
Téra grabbed Minnie’s arm and tugged. “Hurry,” she said, her heart leaping. Just the sight of Calli with a gun was making her heart work harder. It was so unexpected, yet Calli looked like an expert holding it. She looked dangerous.
Calli turned, the gun moving with her, taking in everything at once. Her face was passive, her concentration total.
“Ambassador, go back inside,” Calli said sharply, as Téra tugged harder on Minnie’s arm to get her moving. Minnie was mired in shock.
The squeal of tires made Calli spin again, to face toward the back of the minivan. The green Camry from the house came to a sharp, sliding halt behind the van, the nose dipping with the power of the brake.
The driver’s door was thrown open. Rubén Rey stood on the doorsill, his arm out, the gun in it pointing at the van.
“Get down!” he shouted and fired.
Minni
e flinched and dropped to the hot pavement. Téra tried to cover her, only she didn’t know which side of her to cover.
Roldán hunkered down, then duck walked over to the side of the van and hugged it, with the wheel next to her. She watched Calli for directions.
Calli spun again, her gun tracking to the nose of the van. She fired. Once. Twice. The gun gave quiet coughs.
A man wearing a ski-mask cried out and landed on the sloping hood of the van. His rifle clattered against the metal, scraped down the slope and dropped to the tarmac.
Around them, people screamed and ran.
Calli fired again. A second masked man stood, his hand at his neck, which spouted red. He dropped again.
A submachine gun fired. It was shockingly loud. The staccato rattle was short and accompanied by a series of hollow metallic clunking sounds that reminded Téra of the sound a car made when a side panel got dented.
Rubén cried out and fell backward, his hand against his leg.
Téra screamed.
Calli ran toward the back of the van, the gun clutched in both hands. She had kicked off her shoes.
It was only because Téra watched desperately for Rubén to rise to his feet once more that she saw what happened. Calli rounded the corner of the van and a fist rammed into her jaw, wrenching her head around and back. The back of her head hit the van. Her gun flew up and over the Camry.
The same hand grabbed Calli as she sagged. The man stepped out from between the van and the Camry, the submachine gun in one hand and Calli hanging over his other arm. He also wore a ski mask. He waved the gun around at everyone hunkered on the pavement, then touched it to the back of Roldán’s head. The ambassador closed her eyes.
“Get up,” the man growled.
Roldán rose to her feet, her hands up. “I am a Mexican diplomat. You must let me go,” she said calmly. “If you detain me or harm me, you are declaring war on Mexico. Do you understand?”
“You think I don’t know that, bitch?” He rammed the muzzle of the gun into her stomach and she coughed and bent over. “Move,” he growled, pointing with the gun.
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