Connections: Conexiones (Mercenaries Book 3)

by Tony Lavely

  Beckie drew herself up and suggested they find another victim, “since I’ll be gone for the next week. Don’t want you to get out of practice,” she teased.

  “Will a trip to high altitude be a problem?”

  Shakti and Millie exchanged glances before they both focused on the couple. “No. As long as you get enough rest and keep the wounds and pin sites clean, and you’re not gone too long, the healing will not stop.”

  “How long do you expect to be gone?”

  “I expect a week to ten days. However…”

  Millie made a face. “Yeah. We understand the nature of the business.”

  Beckie’s next stop was Millie’s home, to roust Amy. They spent the rest of the morning past lunchtime Skyping Sandy and then determining what Amy would need to enroll in Coral Gables High School. That at least seemed to go as Beckie hoped.

  As Beckie, Ian and Boynton pushed back from their delayed lunch, Boynton said, “I believe the Ardan family is approaching.”

  Beckie put off her packing to shoot him a glance, then looked at Ian. “Do you have any idea…”

  He shook his head as Boynton opened the door and ushered Millie and Amy in. A moment’s exchange for them to refuse any refreshment—“We just finished, thanks.”—and Beckie sat up, keeping her arm out of Millie’s view.

  The doctor said, “Did you do something, Beckie?”

  Of course she’d notice that, Beckie thought. “No, Millie. I guess I’m a little nervous when you show up unexpectedly.” With a grin, she stood and walked to exhibit the arm. “See? Just like this morning.” As she returned to her chair, she said, “So, what does bring you out this fine day?”

  “Sam. Or maybe Amy.”

  Beckie grunted in confusion as she looked from Millie to Amy. Amy’s eyes, wide and bright, looked hopeful. Millie’s had more of a plea in them. This is funny, Beckie thought as she looked at Ian, but he was impassive as usual.

  “Well, you’ve got me confused.”

  “No matter,” Ian said. He faced Millie. “Samuel is due to return to Syria, I believe? And he mentioned it to you? You believe you should travel with his team.”

  Millie nodded. “I left when you were injured and they’ve been extraordinarily lucky. I should be there if their luck runs short. Of course, the clinic has been without overall guidance, too.”

  “Which leaves Amy at loose ends, so to speak.” Before anyone else spoke, Beckie continued, “Normally, I guess Shalin would host her, but with her injury… You’re looking for us to take her?”

  Both Ardan’s nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

  Beckie looked at Ian; he was neither obviously opposed nor in favor. Boynton had his small smile, but when she caught his eye, he dipped his head enough to be noticed.

  “I hear no plaintive refusals. Is the laptop handy, Maurice? And is Barbara likely to answer?”

  Ian glanced at his watch. “We should call her phone. She may not be at her computer.”

  “Maurice, never mind. Sorry.”

  His hand waved through the door as Ian finished dialing and set the phone on the table.

  “Barbara, hello. How are things going there?”

  “No different than earlier, Mr. Jamse. And you?”

  He waved to Beckie. “I shall turn you over to Rebecca. She has questions.”

  “What questions, Beckie? And how’s the arm?”

  “Healing, thanks. I’m contemplating bringing a minor with me. She could pretend she’s my nurse, I suppose, but that’s nothing to do with you.”

  “No, surely not, as long as you have her papers. Shall I guess?”

  Her continued, “Is it Amy Ardan?” overlapped Beckie’s “Yeah, of course I—” but Barbara said, “Go on,” and waited.

  “Yeah, it’s Amy. If I bring her, the trouble you’re seeing? Is it likely to get violent?”

  There was a pause. As it went on, Beckie watched Amy’s face fall. Before the disappointment took over, however, Barbara said, “No. There’s no hint it will even be as much as the protests up north. But, before it gets even that bad, Mamani asked Minister Salvadore to set up a, safe house, I guess you’d call it. Under the Guardia’s protection.”

  “You think it’ll be safe for her?”

  “I do. So safe, that… Well, we arranged it for you, after we heard about the arm. If we needed it.”

  Beckie looked at Ian; this sounded like his idea. The look of surprise as he stared at the phone: she decided it couldn’t be faked. And who had told Barbara didn’t matter anyway.

  “Is that okay?” Barbara sounded concerned.

  “It’s fine.” Beckie looked at Millie. When the mother nodded, Beckie said, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Peru

  Wednesday

  PIERO HAD SPENT MUCH OF Tuesday evening wondering about the request Mamani and her contractor had made of his ministry: a safe house for an injured staff member in the unlikely event of unrest or protests. The contractor, a woman named Barbara Saunders working for Ian Jamse, LLC, had offered the information that another woman planned to arrive in the next day. The woman had been injured Thanksgiving Day, and Mamani wished her to be protected should the need arise.

  During the meeting, he had of course agreed—even if he and Mamani were opponents, the contractor was benefitting both of them, and filling the request was good politics as well, costing as it would, almost nothing—but he’d spent the evening thinking about the ramifications, if there was an advantage to be gained, and if so, how best to achieve it.

  He recalled an earlier visit by the contractor to Mamani; a check of immigration records gave him a possible name: Rebecca Sverdupe. Ah, yes. I recall meeting her. Una hada. A pixie with long brown hair.

  Wednesday during lunch, the thought of Thanksgiving reminded him Goldfarb was to have made progress toward freeing Talos and delivering the video cassettes. This call he would make from outside. He walked out of the squat green Ministry building. The sky was clear, and the temperature comfortable this late spring day.

  In the car park in front of the building, Piero waved to one of the security guards on patrol, then dug in his pocket for his personal cell phone. Again, he scrolled to the nondescript number.

  “Is señor Goldfarb available?”

  In a moment, Goldfarb’s voice, not as calm as Piero had hoped, responded. “Goldfarb here.”

  “Salvadore. May I know how your Thanksgiving went?”

  “Well, thank— No, that’s not what you meant,” as Piero interrupted him with a snort of disgust. “Not as well as we hoped. The videos are still missing; it is even odds they are in the hands of the group the woman Rochambeau worked for.”

  “Are they aware of what they hold? And if it is even odds, where else might the videos be?” Piero paused. In the earpiece, Goldfarb’s heavy breathing comforted him even less. The man is incompetent! Either himself, or in surrounding himself…

  “Since your former mistress tells me the same group has been contracted by your rival, Nayra Mamani, for her campaign security, it would beggar belief they do not know what the cassettes contain. I suppose… No. While they may not know, we should proceed as if they do.”

  I should think so. Mamani told them what the videos were. “I agree. If not them, who has the recordings?”

  “They would remain under our control… Well, under Talos’ control. I will see him on Monday and make your case once more.”

  “Please do so. Let me think a moment.”

  Piero dropped the hand with the phone to his side and looked over the traffic outside the fence. He didn’t really notice it, however; he thought about Barbara Saunders’ request.

  In less than a minute, he raised the phone and spoke. “Why do you believe that group may hold the videos?”

  “Our attorneys in Nassau have been assisting the men we had searching the group’s headquarters. I understand from one of them Talos’ gold is certainly under their control, and the videos, he was nearly
as certain they were actually there. In addition, we found no other work to justify such security.”

  Piero scoffed at the idea Goldfarb’s research would be all-encompassing, but he kept the opinion internal. The connection with Mamani is too strong. I wonder when she will release the tapes to discredit me. The editing to remove her appearances… that would require time. Perhaps I can still act quickly enough to prevent embarrassment. He took a deep breath and said, “I will arrange for one of the contractor’s staff members to meet you at the airport in Arequipa on Friday. Send someone to collect her. That should give you the leverage you need to recover the videos.” He paused. “Send your people to Lima; one of my planes will ferry them to Arequipa and back. We will ease the exit process for you and the… guest.

  “I remind you no product will move from this day until the recordings are in my hands. I have already spoken with other dealers; they are more than willing to accommodate my surplus.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, señor. I told you the requirements. I will call you… Saturday to make sure everything has arrived as we wish. From then, it shall be up to you and Talos.”

  He stabbed the disconnect button and turned the phone off.

  As he started back to the Ministry building’s entry, he realized Ms Sverdupe would recognize him; thus, he would not be able to pick up the ‘injured’ staffer. However, the fewer people involved at this end, the better. A couple of junior recruits at the hotel… That will work fine. And Fernando! He will be an excellent choice.

  He smiled. Time to back up my threats. He took the phone again. “Señor Koslov? Pedro Gonzales here. I would like to make an introductory shipment to confirm the discussion we had last month. If you agree, my aide will contact you tomorrow.”

  “Excellent news! I will alert my people. Adios until tomorrow.”

  “Adios indeed.”

  Thursday

  Mathilde had again planned for a 2AM departure for the flight to Lima, so Beckie did her best to get some sleep before Ian’s alarm went off. Amy was down the hall; when Beckie knocked, she was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just… just nervous.” Beckie watched the girl pull herself vertical. “I’ll be fine.”

  Mathilde landed at Lima after she told them Barbara had elected to have them fly on to Arequipa. “Getting used to the altitude should start earlier; the crowds won’t wait till you’re ready.” They went through the entry process while the plane was refueled; by half past one, they were in rental cars at Rodriguez Ballon Airport, on the way to the Libertador Arequipa, the same hotel the last meeting with Mamani had been in, so Beckie was relaxed.

  By three, the trip was over and Beckie was again finding it hard to breathe in the 2300 meter thin air. Not as bad as Mamani’s headquarters, she thought, as she sipped a mate de coca while curled up to Ian. Amy had come in with them, but was now in the adjoining room. She’d said she would nap and read before dinner.

  After dinner, Barbara told them Mamani would meet them at nine. Amy said she’d lock the doors and hide rather than tag along. “I don’t know how good I’d be with a future president,” she admitted.

  Entering the suite converted to conference room gave Beckie other concerns: How do we broach our decision to hold the original videos? What does Ian really need me to do here?

  As she thought of him, Ian touched her shoulder and offered her a pain pill. “Before we begin,” he suggested in a soft voice.

  In agreement, she swallowed it with a gulp of water. “Thanks. How long before they arrive?”

  “Barbara told me Mamani is in the hotel; she expects her…” They both heard the rustle of people approaching. “Now, I believe.”

  Mamani entered leading her staff, proceeding directly to Beckie and, until she noticed Beckie’s arm ’jewelry,’ reaching both hands to her. When she saw the fixator, however, both hands flew to her mouth, attempting to cover her gasp.

  “¡Santo dios!” she said from behind her hands. “What has happened?” She extended a hand as if to touch, to confirm the stainless steel’s reality.

  Beckie smiled. “It’s nothing, really. The doctors are pleased with my progress so far, and it could have been much worse.” She shuddered at the thought. She stepped back to look at the woman. “Your dress is most attractive.”

  Mamani had chosen another peasant colored shirt which, though it seemed out of place with her tailored suit, wasn’t. Beckie colored, thinking of her more casual shirt over jeans.

  “Thank you. Philip told me some of your misadventures. I’m happy to see you have survived. He also told me you have information?”

  “Indeed,” Ian said. “Before we begin, who should be present? What has Philip shared with you?”

  “I believe Philip and I will be sufficient. As for what he has shared… Let us pretend he has shared nothing.” She glanced at him, and he nodded.

  “Very well. We have recovered and secreted the recordings which we believe you seek. Of course, unless you see them, that remains uncertain. I have transcripts of selected portions, portions which might arouse minor questioning if discovered, but nothing significant, and will turn those over to you for your confirmation.

  “We will maintain control over the original tapes unless circumstances change.”

  Mamani’s eyes were large until Ian’s last statement, when they slitted in what had to be anger.

  “And what ‘circumstances’ might change?”

  Beckie sat forward to catch Mamani’s attention. “First, may I acquaint you with the history? The stories?”

  Mamani snapped around; she forgot I’m here. Her expression softened—slightly. “I will not forget my question.”

  “Good. Neither will I.”

  About ten minutes after Beckie began, Mamani stopped her. “May the señorita Ardan join us?”

  Beckie shot her a glance after one at Ian. “She was… uncomfortable with such… rarified company as you, señora. However, if you feel…”

  Both Mamani and Gomez were laughing; their amusement had started small, but had become full-bodied as Beckie continued.

  “I hope,” Mamani said as her chuckles faded, “I am not so rarified a capable young woman need feel… uncomfortable around me. However, I understand she played a part, apparently small but important, in finding the cassettes. I wish to acknowledge her, as well as…” She chortled once more. “Well, perhaps I may calm her, showing I am not a fire-breathing dragon set out to devour innocent villagers.”

  Beckie felt her eyebrows rising as she listened to Mamani. With a grin to Ian, she went to the door and asked Sue, waiting there, to ask Amy to join them. In a few minutes, the sheepish girl shuffled in, Rich and Sue behind but not pushing. When Beckie patted the seat next to her, Amy inched over to drop into the chair, looking down between her knees to the floor.

  “You’ve been invited,” Beckie said, “so the señora may give evidence even potential future presidents are real people first. Señora Mamani was first amused you felt yourself… inadequate, I guess, to meet with her, and then dismayed at the idea. She wished an opportunity to change that opinion.”

  “Also, to hear your telling of the story and thank you for your help,” Mamani finished.

  Amy had raised her head, in disbelief, Beckie was sure, but the girl took a breath and looked Mamani in the eye. “Thank you, señora. My part mostly consisted of getting angry at my mentor…” She snapped her gaze to Beckie and back. “… falling in love, and stumbling on… Well, given Beckie’s reaction, I suppose she might not have found it. The clue.”

  Beckie smiled, thinking back to the slip of paper she’d dismissed as the receipt for the clock. She’s right. I might never have looked there, or seen the possibility.

  Between them, the account was finished in less than an hour; Mamani called for refreshments. Then, she slid her chair back and addressed Beckie. “I understand your actions. Whether I agree… I must reflect for a little t
ime.” She settled herself again, then examined her fingers. “One of your questions, felt but not heard: as I told you, the attempt to… influence…” She’s having a tough time pulling the words together, I guess, Beckie thought, and offered Mamani a small smile. “… affairs of justice failed and has not been reanimated. Once Jaime Lobera was charged, Mateo, Minister Huamán, and I could no longer agree the benefit initially perceived still existed. And once Mateo died…”

  Ian stood. “Thank you, señora. That was a concern we did share. However—”

  “However,” Mamani said with a chuckle, “how shall I prove it? That is your new question, as it would be mine. It is difficult to prove the absence of a thing.” She paused, glancing first at Beckie, then at Ian. “I offer my word.”

  Ian dipped his head in acknowledgment. “That will do. Now, I believe Rebecca should rest, so if you will excuse us?”

  “I apologize, señora, but Ian is right; I’m about to fall over.” Beckie stifled a giggle.

  “Of course.” She turned to Beckie. “Perhaps you and señorita Ardan could join me for lunch tomorrow?” She looked over to Philip, who was studying a large notebook. “At…”

  “You have ninety minutes free from 1320.”

  “Will that be suitable?”

  “Eminently. Amy and I will be…”

  “I will meet you in the lobby,” Gomez said, “at 1305.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.”

  Back in their room, Beckie pulled Amy through the connecting door to go over the conversation with Ian. “We didn’t say anything troublesome, did we?”

  “I think not. You maneuvered around the history carefully enough neither of them will be dissatisfied.”

  “I may ask her tomorrow. And why would she invite just Amy and me for lunch? Not even Barbara or Sue. Or Elena?”

  “I suspect she wishes to discuss the changing circumstances I alluded to earlier. Also, she may well have additional questions bearing on Talos or on Ms Rochambeau, and may attempt to breach your defenses.”