“What, David?”
“Uh ... nothing. Let’s get out of here.”
Cara had enough to deal with already. No point in bothering her further over a so far minor episode. But if Yellow Hair showed up anywhere near them again, he wouldn’t get away without providing acceptable answers to several pointed questions.
Chapter 7
She was grateful to David for keeping the conversation light and businesslike at the luxurious restaurant where they dined that evening.
He was so darn good at keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself. His face gave absolutely nothing away about his reactions to their kiss or to their previous intimacies. Maybe he simply didn’t have any. For all his distanced demeanor they might never have come close to having sex—she couldn’t really call it making love. She didn’t even want to think about the shattering power of those arousing memories, let alone talk about them.
She’d worked hard all evening to avoid any lengthy eye contact with him. She was afraid her eyes might disclose how strongly she had to fight to keep herself from reaching for him.
David’s inflaming embrace had brought something new to life within her. Emotions she wasn’t ready to handle. Feelings she hadn’t even known she harbored. She was used to dealing with problems in a logical manner. With the uncontrollable problem of David Reid and his effect on her, she didn’t even know where to start.
She’d faced more than her fair share of problems with Tommy, but never had their relationship posed this particular kind of dilemma.
A wild thought took sudden root in her mind. An idea so uncomfortable it set her to gnawing on her lower lip. Might she have slipped into a more personal relationship with Tommy precisely because, up to the moment it exploded on her, that relationship was so controllable, so predictable?
In a way, Tommy, even with his faults, was safe. Although he always asked a lot of her in other ways, always leaned on her so heavily for support, he never demanded much on a sexual level. David, on the other hand, without uttering a word, with only a look, could set her sexual responses racing, her deepest emotions churning.
When she’d had her hands full with med school, perhaps a quiet, unthreatening relationship with a man was what she needed. From here on, that would never be enough. Not after experiencing the magic of David Reid’s embrace.
“Cara? Cara?”
David’s voice jolted her back from the wild blue yonder of trying to make sense of her reactions to him.
“Yes?”
“Are you ready to leave?”
Cane in hand, he was standing by the table waiting for her. She nodded and picked up her handbag.
The evening was pleasantly cool. An easy stroll back to the hotel seemed in order. The business district around them had closed up for the day. Only a few people were on the streets.
The breeze tugged a strand of her hair from its anchoring comb. Tucking it back, her absent glance landed on a man lingering in front of the display window of a small shop half a block back. There was something familiar about him. His hair, she suddenly realized. The slight illumination from the shop window picked out the pale streak in the mestizo‘s hair.
“David?” Cara touched his arm to get his attention. “I think the man who approached you outside a rumbeadero last night is back there behind us. Do you think we should ask him again if he has any information about Tommy?”
David ignored her comment.
His indifference irritated her. He could at least have taken a moment to glance back. But he never pulled his gaze from the lighted windows of an office tower soaring above the others a couple of streets away.
“I know,” he said quietly. “He picked us up as we left the restaurant.”
Picked us up? A strange way of putting it.
She looked back again. The street was empty. “Oh. He’s gone now.”
David still wasn’t interested. They came to the corner of a dark side street. Even though the hotel lay a few blocks straight ahead, David suddenly pivoted on his good leg and disappeared around the corner. Before she could even voice her astonishment, he reached out and pulled her around the corner with him and set her close to the white stone wall of an office building.
She opened her mouth to ask what the beck was going on. He jerked his finger to his lips warning her to be quiet.
He flattened himself against the wall a foot or so from the corner, and kept his eyes glued on the end of the building. Obviously he was waiting for someone to show up.
She couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strangely. The only person in sight behind them had been the blond-streaked man. Surely a short, slight individual didn’t warrant this kind of wary reaction from a combat-hardened military man.
The rapid click-clack of metal-heeled boots hitting the pavement came closer. The man with the streaked hair—definitely the same man they’d seen last night—rounded the corner at a fast clip.
David shot out a hand and yanked the man off his feet. He let out a yelp. In the blink of an eye the cane angled across his throat pinned him roughly against the wall.
“David!” Cara gasped, shocked that he’d manhandle a person so much smaller than he. “What are you doing to that poor man?”
The mestizo’s flailing arms and legs had no effect on his captor’s iron grip. David bit out a few words in Spanish. The Colombian gave up the useless struggle. His whole body was shaking. He was wide-eyed with fright. Cara didn’t blame him.
Being cornered by the lethal-looking opponent towering over him, would be enough to scare the devil out of anybody.
“Okay.” David bit out the word. “In your line of work, you probably speak English. The show’s over. I don’t take kindly to being tailed. Don’t provoke me any further. Find the fellow’s billfold, Cara,” David ordered without taking his icy stare off his victim.
She nodded and began to search the man’s pockets. Not a pleasant task. Inside his jacket she found a cheap black leather wallet.
“See if you can find some identification,” David told her.
She took out a driver’s license and held it up in the dim light for David to scan, then dropped it back into the wallet.
“All right, Manuel Pereira.” David took the billfold from her and slapped it into the man’s hand. “Let’s have it. Why have you been following us all day?”
The pimp had been following them all day? She sure hadn’t noticed. David needn’t play his cards so irritatingly close to the chest. He could have let her in on that.
The hapless man hadn’t responded to David’s question. He clamped a hand on his prisoner’s upper arm, jerked him off his feet and gave him a hard shake.
“Okay, okay,” the man yelled. “No hurt Manuel. I talk. You show me photograph. You look for man in picture, sí?”
“Yes. What’s that got to do with you? Have you seen Thomas Grant?”
The man’s black eyes narrowed. “You norteamericano drug cops?”
“Drug cops? No. We’re not any kind of cops.”
A hint of craftiness snaked into the man’s look of anxiety.
“I follow to find out who you are, why you look so hard for man in picture.”
“Why is that of any interest to you?”
“Information you want worth money.”
Their shadower still looked worried, Cara noted. Evidently, though, he wasn’t frightened enough to fend off his greed entirely, even in a situation that couldn’t be too comfortable for him.
David’s growing impatience showed in the nerve jumping in his jaw, but he fished for the wallet in his back pants pocket and took out a handful of bills. The mestizo’s hand darted out and closed around the money.
“Information ’bout you worth more somebody else.” The man shoved the money into his pocket and slid David a sly glance. “Lot more.”
If I were you, mister, Cara thought, I wouldn’t press my luck too far. David didn’t seem inclined to put up with too much nonsense from this predatory creature.
; “Oh? Like who?”
The mestizo hesitated. But apparently a quick study of David’s face brought their stalker to the same conclusion she’d reached a moment before about her partner’s probably limited supply of forbearance.
“Okay. I tell you. You nice guy. You no cop.” The man’s toothy grin contained all the sincerity of a hyena. “Hey, man. I just try make honest living.”
“Right. Real honest.”
“Information worth more to my connections work for mafioso, drug lords ship perica, cocaine, to your country.”
Cara’s eyes flashed wide. Drug lords? Drug users, sure. Tommy unfortunately was one. But how did drug lords figure into this? She had the sinking feeling that she didn’t really want to hear the answer.
“What do cocaine traffickers have to do with our search for Dr. Grant?” David demanded.
“Very dangerous talk about these guys. Must have more pay.”
David took hold of the man again and looked as if he were ready to convince him to cooperate in a manner a whole lot less pleasant than paying for it.
“I’ll be the judge of how much your information is worth. Now talk.”
Apprehension flew back into the man’s expression.
“The gringo Grant,” he spewed out rapidly, “he come Bogota maybe two months ago.”
“That’s not worth a single peso. We already knew it.”
“You know he come with son of Dan Kane?”
David’s face took on a look of amazement, followed by a frown that suggested he’d just smelled something putrid.
“Nice company your Tommy keeps,” he said to Cara.
“You know who is Dan Kane?”
“I know.”
“Then you know is not good talk about him. He mafioso. Powerful man. No like people talk about son, Robert. No like people chase after son’s friend.”
Even though Cara didn’t know who they were talking about, she didn’t like the sound of it.
“All right, Manuel,” David snarled. “Seems to me your problem right now is figuring out who can pay you more. Us, or your contacts among the traffickers.”
Fishing out a hefty wad of American dollars, David waved it temptingly in front of the man’s eyes.
“I’d like to point out that we’re the ones with cash in hand, whereas your friends may or may not find your information about us worth the price. It’s not like we haven’t been spreading the word around that we’re looking for Grant.”
“Hey, man, no worry. I like deal with norteamericanos. Not dangerous like perica guys.” The wide mouth split into a hopeful grin. “Sometimes can be more generous.”
“You’d better remember that. And don’t assume that we’re less dangerous than your drug friends. Trust me, you don’t want to find out what I can do to someone who seriously annoys me. Now where can we find Robert Kane?”
Pereira let out a high-pitched giggle of derision. “You no find Robert. He gone home. You try go Kane’s place with no invitation, his men kill first, ask question later.”
The man’s eyes stayed glued on the roll of money in David’s hand.
“But maybe way you can see Robert soon, find gringo friend.”
Pereira’s crafty smile suggested that he was about to one-up his captor. In the uncertain glance David threw her, Cara could sense a slight shift in the power structure involving the Bogotano and the American.
“All right.” David nodded. “We’re listening.”
“Robert come Bogota often. He like buy clothes. Buy jewelry. Play clubs. Like go where pretty girls friendly. He come see me. My girls good.” The man preened. “Got good reputation. Clean. No cheat clients.”
“I’m sure you’re a saint,” David said dryly. “Do you—”
“Manuel.” Cara broke in. She couldn’t hold back the question. “Does Robert’s friend, Dr. Grant, does he come to see you, too? Is he one of your, uh, clients?”
She steeled herself for the answer.
David’s attention sliced to her. Both men looked as if they’d forgotten she was there.
The mestizo shook his head. “I see friend of Robert two, three times in clubs. No my client.”
Thank God for small mercies, Cara thought.
David took over the questioning again. “Do you expect Robert Kane to return to Bogota soon?”
The man shrugged. “Maybe. He don’t like stay with father too much. Like it here. Like go Miami, too. He say mucho fun in Miami. Maybe sometime I go America. Where you live in America? Maybe I come visit you.”
“Don’t count on it.” David again held the roll of cash up to the man’s eyes. “And if you want any more of this, don’t make any travel plans until after you let us know that Robert or Grant is back in town.”
He released their newly hired informant. The man grabbed the money.
“I tell you ’bout Robert. No worry.”
“You’re the one who’d better worry if you don’t,” David grated. “Keep your mouth shut about us and we’ll make it worth your while to keep us informed. Just don’t forget who’s paying you.” David gave the man his name and the name of the hotel where he could be reached. “Now get out of here.”
With a last relieved but feral grin, Pereira bolted up the street.
Cara’s head was still spinning from the astonishing incident. To her the whole thing felt like a scene from a bad movie. David, on the other hand, was taking the bizarre episode with remarkable composure. He quite calmly limped to the edge of the sidewalk and scanned the street for a taxi. His piercing whistle and an imperious wave of his cane skidded a passing cab over to them.
“What on earth was all that about?” she asked as he held the automobile door open for her.
“It’s a long story. I’ll give you the details back at the hotel.”
Cara poured two tall, frosted glasses of sangria from the large crystal pitcher and dropped a half-moon of sliced orange into each. Using the silver tongs set out on the tray, she fished a few extra cubes from the ice bucket and clinked them into their drinks.
“Tell me about this Robert Kane,” she prompted, handing David his glass.
He settled back on the sofa. “Robert, quite the playboy from Manuel’s account, is the son of a notorious American drug kingpin now living here in Colombia. I don’t know anything about the son. Didn’t even know he existed. I do know enough about Dan Kane to understand that he’s scum the world would be better off without. Back in the late sixties he was a businessman involved with the construction of military bases in Vietnam. Even then he was a bottom-feeder. Made a fortune on the black market mainly by stealing Uncle Sam blind and importing drugs to supply the users among our troops stationed over there.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It is. And it gets worse. After the war, Kane’s colorful résumé bought him entry with one of the cartels here. I’m sure his bosses found Kane very valuable to them. Still find him so, or he’d no longer be one of their top lieutenants. He has an insider’s knowledge of the U.S. and he’d built up an important network of transportation contacts stretching back to the States. I’m sure he made it his business to find out which ones wouldn’t pay too close attention to what they were shipping by plane, boat or truck. Despite what Manuel says, Robert’s trips to the States can’t be simple pleasure junkets. No doubt his father uses him to keep his hand in among those contacts.”
Cara sighed and shook her head. “I hate to think that there are Americans at every level willing to cooperate with drug traffickers, but there must be.”
“Yes. However, there aren’t many who’ve set up shop right in Colombia. Apparently Kane has gone native. Spends most of his time here. Although precisely where his headquarters are located no one seems to know. These people don’t hang out signs on their front doors. He’s probably somewhere in the mountains.”
The way David paused and frowned made her think his mention of those mountains brought him unpleasant memories.
“Even if we did know where he makes his h
ome base, aside from the strong possibility of running into competing guerrilla groups, bandits and the cartel’s mercenaries, just getting around up there among them poses a big problem. Outside the cities, there aren’t many good roads, mostly just dirt tracks, many of them cocaine trails. The only Americans who show up there are backpacker types. We’d stand out in the area like a sore thumb. Manuel wasn’t exaggerating when he said Kane’s private army would shoot first and ask questions later. All the mercenaries in the pay of the drug lords would.”
David took another long swallow of the fruited wine. “No, Cara. There’s not much else we can do now but wait to hear that young Kane is back in town and hope that he brings Tommy with him.”
Cara put down her glass and rubbed her forehead worriedly. “I hope that’s soon. I don’t want to give up on Tommy, but I also have a responsibility to the physician who’s covering for me and to my patients.”
“We’ll be lucky if your limited time is the only problem we face. I just hope the bribe I gave Manuel was big enough to ensure his silence about us. It worries me, though, that our investigations may already have alerted people we don’t want to meet. Manuel was right. It’s not healthy to ask any questions whatever about members of what they call the mafioso, or about any aspect of their business. I’d just as soon not have drug traffickers find out for sure that we’re trailing one of their own.”
“Please don’t call Tommy that,” Cara snapped. “Just because he knows this man Kane doesn’t mean he’s one of their own. He could be just a friend.”
David’s mouth tightened. He didn’t argue.
“It’s hard to believe,” she continued, “that anyone would threaten us just because I want to talk to Tommy. I don’t want to attack these criminals. I would if I could. But I know I can’t.”
“Believe it. Warren Baker did.”
What with all that had been going on lately, she’d forgotten that her detective had been scared enough to drop her case. And that had been back in the States. They were a lot closer to the vicious drug traffickers here in Bogota. Despite David’s warning back in Baltimore, she’d never really felt any sense of personal danger during her search for Tommy. For the first time, a spurt of fear leapt into her veins.
Unbroken Vows Page 11