by Tony Lavely
Ian smiled as he spilled the cassette, key and white envelope on the table. “I understand your confusion.” He used a clean spoon to push the items around, peering closely. “Boynton, would you ask Shen to bring his print kit?” His eyes came up to meet Amy’s. “Did you handle them?”
Amy faced the table, staring through the table top. “Not much.” She raised her head. “But yes. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about prints or stuff.”
Beckie touched Amy’s arm as Ian said, “No matter. We will allow Shen to test. He may require your prints.”
Her hand touched Beckie’s on her arm. “Thanks. Just, I don’t understand, you know?”
The others around the table nodded.
The conversation before Shen arrived didn’t add to Beckie’s knowledge; none of the others seemed pleased, either. Twenty minutes had passed before Boynton stood and left the lanai, returning in moments with both of the Go’s, Mr. and Mrs.
As Shen unpacked his kit, Rou took in the scene with a smile. “My two most favorite… boundary extenders, along with their wonderful mentors.” She looked again. “On the table, a fine example of a safe deposit box key. I must ask why—” Their confusion surprised her. “What? It’s obviously not a door key, and that design is one of the Mosler Company’s. From here, at least.”
“I guess that makes sense, given this envelope.” Beckie pointed at the white packet.
“But why would anyone keep a safe deposit key and envelope together?” Amy asked.
“Largely because no one remembers their box number without it,” Rou said. She turned to Ian. “When you asked Shen to work his magic, I came along to thank you. I’d never seen a Good Delivery bar before except in pictures, and now there are two of them in the vault.”
“A what?” Amy asked.
“I believe Rou refers to the two gold bars we recovered from Brewster.” Ian looked at the woman, his eyebrows raised and lips slightly quirked.
“Yes. Of course. Together, they represent a million dollars, more or less. Accepted for bullion transactions worldwide. So, thank you for the opportunity.”
Beckie listened as the Chinese woman continued: She had done a survey in spite of the bars’ markings; they had both assayed at 997 fine. One was exactly twelve kilos, the other thirteen grams less. In addition to the foundry mark and serial number, a stamp had been placed on the side of both bars. “And of course, Abby’s initials.” She smiled at Amy. “I don’t believe that’s enough to add them to her estate, unfortunately.”
As she finished, Boynton slipped away, then returned with Else Meyer. The blonde German-born woman smiled as she set her case on the table and dropped her slight frame into the empty chair. “Ah, Else,” Shen said, “how are you? I’m almost finished with the cassette.” He took a series of photos of the dust-covered surfaces while Else made a face. “It won’t be that bad,” he said, “I’ll clean it off.”
“Never mind,” she said with an expression Beckie took as midway between a smirk and a grimace. “I’ll do it.”
After a thorough cleaning, Else loaded the tape in the player and pushed Play.
“Buenos días, señor Talos.”
“Y a usted, señor Huamán. ¿Cóm—”
The recording ended abruptly.
“That’s it?” Beckie felt nothing but disappointment.
Else allowed the tape to run to the end before popping the cassette out of the player. “I’m afraid so. Sounds like a teaser, identifying the speakers. Even with no training in Spanish, I can tell it’s been cut off mid-word.”
“That’s right,” Amy said. “‘Good day,’ and ‘You, too.’ And the guys’ names, of course.”
Beckie stood. “You speak Spanish?”
“A little. Mostly from the nurses and staff.”
“Cool,” Beckie said. “Well then, the interesting part of the conversation is gonna be what follows.”
“I agree,” Boynton said. “However, even this snippet would present difficulty for Mr. Talos. One of the defense’s claim, neither proven nor refuted at trial, was that Talos and Huamán hadn’t met before the fatal encounter.”
“Hmm,” Beckie murmured. “And this tape came from Peru to Talos’ attorney in the middle of August. Who? And why?”
Shen packed his gear. “I’ve got what I can. I’ll check the partials against Amy’s prints first, and then the ‘big database in the sky.’ It’ll be a couple of hours, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Else set the cassette on the table in front of Ian. “Anything else I can help with?”
“Not for now. Thank you.”
As Else quit the lanai, Beckie said, “Well, love, should we send the cassette to Eilís and have her drop it on the prosecutors in New York?”
Ian paused, pursing his lips. Beckie grinned—internally—before he said, “We should advise Ms O’Bannon of its existence and wait to see what develops. At present, I believe there is little risk of Talos’ release. She can inform us if that changes.”
Chapter Ten
Peru
Barbara Visits Mamani
BARBARA SAUNDERS TUGGED ON THE peasant scarf she wore against the sun. Her olive complexion didn’t burn often, but at 3800 meters, the sun was bright and the atmosphere thin. It had taken her a couple of weeks to adapt, as it had the rest of her team.
The call the day before had surprised… Well, no, she admitted, very little Ian and Beckie did surprised her, but still, their request had been unexpected: “Ask Mamani about Mateo Huamán’s death.” She walked into the house where Nayra Mamani had established her headquarters. The receptionist gave her a salute of recognition and opened the door. She returned his smile and entered.
At the desk, Philip Gomez, Mamani’s campaign manager and Barbara’s primary contact, wiped his face with a limp handkerchief and greeted her before waving her into the main office. He directed her to the chair standing in front of the uncluttered desk.
Mamani entered from a side door to Barbara’s left. As usual, her black hair was plaited and coiled atop her head. Her suit was a dark blue, with a white collar. Her scarf was loosely tied about her neck; its bright colors evoked the jungle: deep greens, brilliant reds and yellows on a field of warm dark brown.
She shook hands as Barbara said, “Good morning. Thank you for agreeing to meet so quickly.”
“I can always make time for those who help me.”
Barbara nodded. “First, we are nearly finished arranging security for your campaign. I will deliver the final report next week.
“Second… Mr. Ian Jamse, my principal, has an off-topic question he requests me to pose to you.” She waited until the politician nodded. “Is there anything you might tell us about the death of Mateo Huamán?”
Mamani didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked to the window and gazed out for a minute. Then she seated herself behind her desk and finally looked Barbara in the eye. “Forgive me. Would you like tea or coffee? Anything? I will have tea, so don’t think it an imposition.”
“Then yes, tea, please.”
The server brought a small table holding a lovely china tea service to place beside Barbara. All grace and composure, he poured the tea and slid the cup and saucer to her.
She lifted the cup and sipped. “Mmm. Very good.” With a full smile, she said, “Thank you so much. The hotel has a…” She tried to think of a diplomatic phrase. “The hotel has a more limited selection, I fear.”
“Of course. These leaves are selected for me.” Mamani sipped her own. “Now. Your question. It raises a delicate matter. Providing an answer means I must trust Mr. Jamse with… It would not be too much to say my life.”
Barbara winced. Well, there goes the idea there’s nothing to discover. I wonder how they guessed—
“I had hoped…” Mamani sighed. “But no, it is not to be.” She stood and came around the desk. “I have a few minutes before my next meeting. Let’s take a short walk.”
Barbara followed the woman through a side door and into t
he garden she had seen from the office. She stepped into the brisk air and surveyed the area.
Walls bounded the space; the plantings were separated by grassy strips a meter wide. The red flowers of the k’antu bushes almost glowed in the light. Barbara hadn’t appreciated them through the glass.
“This is lovely,” she said, still following the woman.
“It is. One of my father’s gifts to me and to the family.” Mamani stopped at the foot of a large tree. “This tree… My father built this garden for it, to protect it where it couldn’t otherwise grow. A monument to his legacy.”
While Barbara nodded politely, Mamani hadn’t addressed Ian’s question.
“May I ask… What… Why has this question arisen?”
“You may ask, but I have no answer,” Barbara said. “He called yesterday with the request, and Philip arranged our meeting. I can ask—”
Mamani raised her hand, palm out, then said softly. “Can you tell Mr. Jamse I would meet with him? I would hear the genesis of his question before imparting answers. You may tell him I do have answers, although they may not sit well with him.”
Why might Mamani’s answers not ‘sit well’ with Ian? And how would she keep focused on their primary task: creating a safe environment within which Mamani could campaign for President?
The woman’s soliloquy had ended a few seconds earlier; Barbara swallowed her surprise as she realized the woman was looking at her, a query on her face. “I beg your pardon, senõra. I was woolgathering.”
She smiled and took Barbara’s elbow. “You are forgiven.” She started them toward the building. “I wondered if you had any questions.”
“No. I will discuss your request with Mr. Jamse this afternoon. Also, I assume either I or Mr. Quinn can meet with you should something arise, or if we have news.”
She smiled, but Barbara saw little pleasure in the expression. “Of course. I hope for an early response,” she said as she opened the door for Barbara. Inside, she glanced around. “Twenty-four kilos of gold may also be part of my answer. Should he be able to visit.”
Well, twenty-four kilos of gold intrigued Barbara, as it would Ian. If they collected on it, it would about double the fee for this job. If, recalling Kevin’s oft-repeated mantra, their expenses weren’t high. But what would earning the gold entail?
Beckie and Ian Visit Mamani
Friday afternoon, Beckie accompanied Amy to the gym for an hour-long workout, then dropped her at the Ardan’s home. Back in her room, she showered, dressed, then went to the lanai, thinking to check her email, then read.
Ian had taken his usual chair; with his eyes closed, he might be resting. Well, I won’t interrupt him.
Just as the thought passed, Ian’s phone rang and smiling at her, he sat up to answer it. Boynton came through the slider as Ian said, “Hello again, Ms Saunders.”
Beckie listened as Barbara responded, “I asked Mamani about Huamán… It was interesting.” She repeated their conversation.
“She has answers to Ian’s questions,” Beckie asked, “but won’t talk about them until he answers some for her? Is that right?”
“That’s it.”
“She’s not sure how Ian’ll react? And she’s offering a bunch of gold? Maybe?”
“Right again. You’re doing good, Beckie.” Barbara’s laugh proved contagious.
Beckie grinned, then gave Ian a serious look. “I can’t imagine why we’d be concerned about the answers, no matter what they are. Let’s go, see for ourselves.”
When Ian didn’t speak, Boynton said, “That might have the best return.”
Jamse nodded. “I agree. Can you ask Jannike for assistance scheduling the trip?”
Beckie stretched as she followed Ian through Arequipa’s Rodriquez Ballon Airport. They’d entered Peru in Lima and Beckie hoped the trip that had started at two that morning was finally done. Though clean and neat, the terminal appeared dark compared to the bright sunshine outside. Through the glass doors she saw Barbara and Rich and hurried to catch up with Ian.
She returned Barbara’s smile with one of her own and greeted both of them. While Ian exchanged news with Barbara, Beckie looked around. The cloud-covered volcanic peak of El Misti loomed above the barren cone.
Rich took her elbow. “With the miniature cars we rented,” he said, “you get to ride with me; Ian will go with Barbara. If that’s okay?”
“Yeah, but I thought the roads here are really bad?”
“Some are worse than others, but today, we’ll be fine. Paved, at least. You’ll see.”
“Okay, I guess. Where are we headed? And what about Mathilde and her copilot?”
“They’ve got rooms in the hotel. We’re going up another four hours or so, to Mamani’s headquarters. Her home, actually. It’s on the way to Juliaca and Lake Titicaca, but not that far.” He chuckled at Beckie’s groan. “Barbara didn’t tell you, eh?” With a wave, he drew her attention to the vista around them. “This is lovely Arequipa,” he said before opening the door. He pointed at the peak to the east. “Someone on the plane probably mentioned the volcano. El Misti.”
“Yeah. Mathilde needed something to talk about, so avoiding the volcano became a topic.” She laughed. “It’s not that far away, I guess. So Mamani couldn’t come here to greet Ian?”
“No, even on Sunday, she had meetings. We think she wanted to meet Ian there. She’s not expecting you, though.”
“Last minute hanger-on. I was curious to know what’s going on here, and Ian thought it wouldn’t be a long trip. Down and back, so to speak.”
“Well, I hope you’ll at least stay overnight.”
“Have to. Mathilde’s used up her hours for today. Anything special planned?”
“Just, Sue and Willie will join us there.”
“How about the altitude? Mathilde had the plane at about ten thousand feet, getting us used to it, but—”
“That’s higher than here, but her HQ is about thirty-eight hundred meters. Over twelve thousand feet. We’ve got water for you. Based on our experience, as long as you get back here tonight, there won’t be any problems.”
With a nod, Beckie buckled her seat belt.
Rich took a right turn out of the airport. Beckie sat back and watched the scenery. The road was two-lane, paved. The businesses lining the road were set back about twenty-five feet. Wow! Beckie thought. I’ll keep my opinions to myself, but it looks really run down. Except for no sand, it could be any small town in Egypt. Replacing the sand was a ubiquitous white dust. Away from the city, the dust seemed less prevalent, but she still saw few green plants. Lots of trucks, not many people.
“Will it be like this the whole way?”
“Pretty much. This road is paved all the way till maybe the last half hour.” He paused to pass a heavily laden truck. “Have to watch out for rocks in the road. Or maybe boulders is a better description. And the trucks and buses. Drivers here… Well.”
“I see,” Beckie said as she watched two on-coming trucks, one passing the other, leaving barely enough room on the shoulder for Rich to squeeze by.
“See? No problem.”
“Take as long as you need. I’m in no hurry!”
In Barbara and Rich’s office, Barbara said, “I’m pretty sure our report on the security plan won’t come up today; we’ll deliver it Wednesday,”
“Are there difficulties?” Ian asked.
“None. This meeting is to answer your questions, according to Philip.”
“Philip?” Beckie said.
“Philip Gomez. Her campaign manager. You’ll meet him.”
Sue and Willie joined them as Barbara finished, but they had no news. After Barbara spent ten minutes describing Mamani’s home and its grounds, Ian suggested they head to the palace.
“Mamani won’t see us all,” Barbara said.
“Rebecca will come with you and I. Rich, can you remain here with Susan and Willie?”
“Sure. Take Willie’s SUV; it’s a little bigger.”
; Inside the office, the receptionist smiled at Barbara; however, his gaze became hard as he stared at Ian. It softened, but only slightly, when he turned to Beckie. Barbara handed him their documents; as he perused them, his face relaxed, and he waved them on.
The man in the outer office welcomed them in a way that made Beckie wonder about his sincerity. About five feet eight, he was definitely portly. Must weigh two hundred pounds. He’s too happy to see us. That little heh-heh laugh all the time. And ugh! He sweats way too much. But when Barbara introduced him, “Meet Philip Gomez, Mamani’s campaign manager. He’s the boss,” Beckie thought, Oops! Better keep those thoughts to myself.
Gomez used his phone and then led them into the main office, directing Barbara to the seat directly before the desk, and asking Beckie and Ian to use chairs to the side.
The side door opened and Mamani looked through. “Well…” The note in her voice matched her raised eyebrows. “… this is an unexpected pleasure!” She entered and walked to Ian. “I assume you are Mr. Ian Jamse. Barbara I know, but…”
“This is Rebecca Sverdupe, in training to undertake my duties. I wish her to be cognizant of all our important clients and their requirements.”
Mamani offered Beckie her hand. Beckie rose and shook it with vigor. “It is a pleasure, señora. Thank you for seeing us on a Sunday, and for allowing us to work with you.”
“Believe me, Rebecca, the pleasure is mine. Or so I hope.” She faced Barbara and greeted her. “I would rather invite you to a more comfortable room. If you will?” She directed them through the side door.
The space Beckie walked into was about the same size as the office. Windows on two walls, directly ahead and to the right, gave on the garden Barbara had described; Beckie agreed, it was lovely. The ceiling was twelve feet high; the walls, where they weren’t covered by photographs, paintings or framed documents, were stark white. A second doorway was set into the wall to the left, about halfway down.
Two sofas stood away from the walls, at opposite edges of a hand-worked rug. Matching chairs filled the open ends and low tables could be reached from either the sofas or the chairs. I wonder how close these designs are to the Navajo, Beckie mused. She put the thought aside and allowed Ian to direct her to the sofa looking away from the garden. The seat was comfortable, soft without allowing them to sink in and make rising difficult.