Say Your Goodbyes

by Linda Ladd

  Novak inquired in Spanish if he and his daughter could possibly rent a room, one that overlooked the dancers, adding they’d just need it overnight. Isabella kept nodding along with everything Novak said, giving Meryl Streep a run for her money.

  Antonio apparently appreciated the wad of money in Novak’s hand. “Sí, señor. Your daughter, she is muy bonita.”

  Isabella dropped her eyes and tried to look demure but didn’t carry it off—not well, anyway. Maybe it was the mosquito bites puffing up her face. The clerk laughed and handed Novak a big iron key. Novak handed him pesos worth about thirty American dollars plus a big tip, which was probably high for what they would find upstairs.

  Ten minutes later, they were on the second floor and entering a room that was not exactly Hilton quality. The ceiling plaster was cracked in places, the dresser dusty, and the bedspread wrinkled from where somebody had done something on it. Novak didn’t want to know who did what there. On the other hand, there was a fairly modern bathroom, with pink fixtures circa 1980, maybe. But it offered running hot water and a showerhead and a toilet and sink. Clean towels on the racks. Good enough. They wouldn’t be there long enough to get comfortable. It beat fighting their way through jungle vines in the dark with a stolen machete.

  Best of all, there was a very old black rotary phone on the bedside table, the kind Novak hadn’t seen since he was a boy. The girl immediately fled into the bathroom and turned on the shower, as most any woman who had been dragged through the jungle all night would do. Novak threw open the balcony doors and found no real balcony, just a waist-high black wrought-iron grille across the opening. Fine by him. He wasn’t going to loll around on a balcony and let the killer spot him. He stood back in the shadows of the white cotton curtains and observed the party going on below, watching for a little ninja maniac dressed all in black and scalping his way through the crowd. He didn’t see him. Nobody down below looked suspicious. No policía in sight, either. Just regular folks, laughing and talking. Young children chased around and stole fruit and candy off the tables. Men sat on benches and tossed back jiggers of tequila. It was Novak’s kind of place. Maybe he’d come back someday.

  Relieved to be out of sight for a change, Novak sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled up a number from deep inside his psyche, a long-ago memory that he’d never forgotten. He dialed and listened to it ring at the other end. He let it ring five times, and then he hung up and called back again. It rang once this time, and he hung up. Waited exactly two more minutes and then redialed. Any other arrangement of calls, any variation, and nobody would pick up. Novak counted the final rings and hoped the code was the same as the last time he had used it.

  Somebody picked up at the other end. A voice said, “How may I help you?”

  At the sound of Jenn’s voice, Novak smiled. Couldn’t help himself. That deep southern drawl that she tried so hard to disguise but couldn’t. She hailed from the great state of Mississippi, and was southern through and through, and proud of it. Novak felt himself relax a little for the first time since he realized that Isabella was probably going to get him killed. He had hoped Jenn would still be on the job.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  Apparently, she recognized Novak’s voice right off, too, because she said, “I should just hang up on you right now, you bastard.”

  “I’m in big trouble, Jenn.”

  “When aren’t you?”

  “I need an extraction.”

  “You’re not in the military anymore.”

  “I paid my dues. I need help. Please, Jenn. I’m desperate.”

  Silence for a few seconds. “Out of Mexico?”

  “On Avenida Mexico, outskirts of Chetumal.”

  “Crap, Novak. I’m busy.”

  “This is life or death.”

  “Of course it is. When isn’t it with you?”

  “I’m sorry about before. I had to take off that way. I didn’t want to.”

  “Oh, sure, right.”

  Then they were quiet. “You gonna come?”

  “Well, don’t I always?”

  Novak grinned, very glad to hear that. He hadn’t been sure what she’d do. “I’m gonna need some clothes. Something that won’t stand out. Big and loose fitting to hide my weapons.” He hesitated, glancing at the bathroom door. He could still hear the water running. “And bring some women’s clothing, too. About size six, I guess. I don’t know. Might need smaller than that. She’s the skinniest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Are you serious? You’ve got a woman with you? You want me to dress your girlfriend? Good God, Novak. You take the damn cake.”

  “It’s not like that. She’s just a kid. She’s in trouble. I’m trying to help her out and it’s getting sticky.”

  “What kid?”

  Novak stiffened when he heard a soft click on the telephone line. He spoke quickly. “Our canoe capsized in the river and we’re stuck here so hurry, please. We lost almost everything. My daughter’s exhausted.”

  Then Antonio’s voice broke in, speaking in rapid Spanish. “Extra charge for using the phone, señor.”

  “Okay, no problem,” Novak said tightly. The guy hung up.

  “Where are you, exactly?” Jenn asked.

  “The Hotel Lagoon, the smaller one behind the arched sign. Not too far over the border on Avenida Mexico?”

  “I know the hotel. Sit tight. You’re lucky that I’m working up here in Chetumal. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  Jenn clicked off without saying another word. Her home base was a beach bungalow near Belize City several hours away, but she frequently drove north to check on the covert safe houses that she operated in Chetumal. It was a stroke of good luck that she was working in the city today. About time fortune smiled on him. Novak replaced the receiver in the cradle. He sat there and inhaled deeply, then blew it out, big-time relieved. Jenn was still ticked off at him, and she had a right to be. But she would come through for them. She always came through. She was the best at her job that he’d ever run across. Now, after he’d spoken with her, he was eager to see her again. Truthfully, he had never expected to meet up with her again, not after he’d taken off almost five years ago. It should be an interesting reunion. If she didn’t slap the shit out of him.

  Chapter Nine

  Jennifer Ryman arrived in just under thirty minutes. She was a pro, through and through. Not only was she a covert military procurer and facilitator, she expertly ran CIA safe houses all the way from Merida to Panama City. She supplied her people with whatever they needed, whenever they needed it, and with no time wasted on conversation or red tape. Years ago, when he was injured on a mission in Nicaragua, Novak had been forced into hiding. He’d made it up to Mexico but he’d been seriously wounded, and she’d personally nursed him back to health. He’d stayed with her for well over a month on medical leave, and then spent another much more pleasurable month with her before he had been ordered back to the United States. Unfortunately, she had been in Merida delivering an asset to the airport when the car arrived with orders for Novak to leave immediately. He had gone with them without saying goodbye. Jenn hadn’t liked that much and for good reason. She also hadn’t kept in touch or reached out to him at any time since. Nor had he reached out to her. So he was understandably wary.

  When a low double tap sounded on the door followed by three more in rapid succession, Novak picked up the Ruger and checked the chamber. He gestured for Isabella to get inside the closet. She ran to obey. As soon as the doors clicked shut behind her, he crossed the room and stood with his back against the wall on the right side of the door. He waited a moment to see if another knock sounded. Jenn would not do that. She always went strictly by the procedure codes. “Yeah?”

  “It’s me. Open the door.”

  The low, husky timbre of Jenn’s voice made Novak want to smile. He’d heard that voice plenty of times, over the telephone, across the little dining table in her house on the beach, and in Jenn’s big soft bed, her whispers warm and
throaty and sexy against his mouth. She was one hell of a desirable woman. She knew that, of course, and used it well to her advantage, both at work and in her free time. He hadn’t minded in the least. He had wanted her, too. She was a woman any man would desire. But she was a hothead at times and gave him pretty much everything he could handle and more, and he better remember that. He swung open the door, not sure what to expect.

  Jenn didn’t look at him, just pushed past him without a word. Novak checked out the hallway, found no one around, and then shut and locked the door. When he turned around and faced Jenn, she pushed the Ruger to one side with the back of her hand. “I ought to knock you on your back for ducking out on me like that.”

  Nothing like getting right to the point. “That was a long time ago, Jenn.”

  “So?”

  Novak didn’t want to argue with her. He’d lose. “Yeah, you should hate me. I deserve it.”

  “Oh yeah, you sure do.”

  Novak frowned. “I’m sorry, Jenn. I’m not good at goodbyes.”

  “Not good at hellos, either, are you?”

  “I was under orders to return to duty immediately. Emergency deployment. Time was of the essence.”

  Jenn didn’t answer that. She planted her hands on her hips and glanced around the room. “Quite a dump you’ve got here. Where’s the girl?”

  “In the closet.”

  “Oh, that’s gentlemanly. Why am I not surprised?”

  “You don’t know her.”

  Their gazes locked for a few seconds. Jenn was a tall woman, almost six feet, maybe five foot eleven. She still had to look up at him, and she didn’t like that much. She was a tough woman and she could be as stubborn as any woman he’d ever met. Her hair was very curly, a pale blond the color of sunshine, held back at the moment in a long and silky ponytail. She had dyed her hair a coppery red the last time they’d spent their time together and had worn her hair quite short. She changed her hair color and appearance as often as she changed her clothes. A real chameleon. That idiosyncrasy had kept her alive during some hazardous situations. But she was back to her natural blond today, and that’s the way Novak liked her best. She had on tight black jeans that showed off her lithe figure and a pink and coral tank top with shiny silver seashells all across the front. She was lean and muscular and fit and looked as sexy as hell. She had on black Nike tennis shoes without socks. She was carrying a large brown leather bag, and a blue duffel bag was slung over one shoulder.

  “You brought the sat phone, right?” Novak was really glad to see her, and not just because she was saving his skin. He realized with some surprise that he had missed her.

  “I’m a procurer, remember? That’s my job. Of course I’ve got it. I’ve got everything you’ll need and more. Most of it’s still down in the RV. I parked out back in the alley. Figured you’d not want to make a production out of sneaking your girlfriend out of here.”

  “God, Jenn, I am so glad to see you.”

  “Don’t tell me you missed me or I’ll slug you one.”

  “Okay.”

  They studied each other for another moment. She didn’t look much older than before. Maybe a few lines around those big and luminous brown eyes of hers. She looked really good. Her beauty had been the downfall of many a bad guy. Well trained in martial arts, she was capable of knocking Novak on his back if he was the least bit careless. He liked that about her, too. He liked a lot of things about her. He liked the way her breasts were straining against the tight tank, making the shells round out and look real. He shifted his eyes. Better get a grip on that, and right now. Stay on point, because she was going to.

  “We’ve got serious trouble, Jenn. Thank you for coming. I mean it.”

  Jenn glanced over at the closet door. “I think it’s safe to let the poor girl out of there now, don’t you? I’d like to get a look at the poor kid.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He glanced at the louvered doors. “Come on out, Isabella. It’s safe.”

  The door cracked open, and then Isabella peeked out. “Isabella, this is my good friend Jenn. Jenn, Isabella Martinez.”

  Isabella stepped all the way out and looked highly uncomfortable in the presence of the other woman. Jenn stared at her a long moment, and then she looked back at Novak. Novak had seen that look before. She looked incredulous. Then she looked concerned. Then she shook her head.

  Novak frowned. “What?”

  “You don’t know? Really? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?”

  “That girl over there? The one you call Isabella? I’m not sure that’s who she is. She looks a damn sight like Marisol Ruiz, who just happens to be the only daughter of Arturo Ruiz, the most brutal drug lord in Mexico. She was kidnapped out of a convent exactly six days ago. Everybody south of Barrow, Alaska, knows about it, including me. Good God, Novak. If it is her, you are in some deep shit here. Please tell me you didn’t kidnap this kid.”

  Novak’s jaw dropped. That didn’t happen often. That didn’t happen ever. Ruiz was a drug lord, known far and wide for his cruel, inhuman treatment of enemies and minions who betrayed him. The Mexican government was afraid to cross him. He was also suspected of multiple beheadings to send a message, sometimes a dozen innocent victims at a time, their bodies laid out across a busy highway to increase terror in the townspeople. It usually worked. He was known to cut down anybody who got in his way, and probably had at least half of the Mexican police force in his pocket. He made El Chapo look like a schoolyard bully. Novak’s shock faded pretty damn fast. He turned on the girl. “That true? Your name is Marisol Ruiz? You’ve been lyin’ to me about everything?”

  Isabella, a.k.a. Marisol, a.k.a. who the hell knew who she really was looked contrite and hung her head and regressed before his eyes to about twelve years old. “I’m sorry, Señor Novak. I had to lie to you. I really did.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Her true identity complicated things big-time, and he didn’t like where it left him: holding the bag, pretty much, and number one on a Mexican mafioso’s hit list.

  Jenn was not very understanding. “Are you out of your mind, Novak? I can’t get involved in something like this. This is serious trouble.”

  “I didn’t have a clue what her name was. I fished her out of the ocean, and she’s been telling me a pack of lies ever since. I knew she was lying, but I didn’t expect anything like this.”

  Ticked off in a big way, Novak turned to the newly designated Marisol. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me the truth from the beginning?”

  Marisol Ruiz dissolved into her usual pitiful-me act. “I was afraid to! I didn’t know you. I didn’t know if you’d take me back home to him. I don’t want him to find me.”

  “So you ran away from home? Is that what you’re telling us? The kidnapping was a hoax?” That was Jenn. She looked upset now. Angry. Her voice was hard and her jaw was set.

  Furious, too, Novak crossed the room and pulled Marisol over to the bed. He pushed her down and glared at her. “Start talking, dammit. And tell me the truth, for a change. From the beginning. I’ve had it with you, Marisol, if that’s your name. Got that? I’ve had it. One more lie and I am out of here for good.”

  Jenn leaned back against the desk and watched. His show. She wouldn’t interfere. Novak paced away and looked through the open louvers of the balcony doors, focusing his attention down on the people eating and dancing and laughing. “Okay, we’re waiting. Talk, kid. And it better be good.”

  Marisol Ruiz didn’t want to tell them anything. That was pretty damn evident. She was putting on a fairly good show of being frightened. Wringing her hands and doing a lot of fast thinking, no doubt. But he’d seen her adapt her character to meet the situation before. She was probably concocting a new script full of lies.

  “What do you want me to say? Most of what I said is true. Just not my father’s name. I was afraid to tell you that. But I was kidnapped by Diego. He took me out on the Orion’s Trident and tied me up while he demanded ransom. T
hen the other guy, you know, the guy after us, he sneaked aboard one night. He shot my boyfriend and then he tried to kill me. All that’s true. You saw it happen, remember? If you hadn’t come and got me out of the water, I would be dead.” She hesitated after that, considering, and then she said. “That guy who takes the scalps? Okay, he works for Papi. He’s like a son to him. He’ll do anything Papi asks him to.”

  “Papi meaning Arturo Ruiz?”

  She nodded, looked down at the floor.

  “If he works for your father, why would he leave you out there in the ocean to die?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Papi told him to. Papi beats me. He beats my mama. Maybe he’s tired of me running away and wants to get rid of me. I wouldn’t be surprised. He orders lots of murders for people who cross him. He’s a bad man. That’s why I wanted to get away from him. I’m scared of him and what he does to me.”

  “So you do know this guy who’s chasing us?”

  Marisol had the decency to look guilty. “Yes, of course. He works for Papi. You know, like a lieutenant.”

  “Well, who the hell is he?”

  “I don’t know his real name. Papi always calls him the Mayan.”

  Jenn and Novak looked at each other. Neither of them believed her, not everything she had said, anyway. Something was not on the up-and-up in this new scenario, either. Marisol had proven herself to be a liar, a fair actress, and a con woman. Why should they believe her now?

  “Very nice story on short notice,” Novak said to her. “Now, how about telling us the truth?”

  Marisol attempted a mightily shocked expression. “That’s the honest truth. I swear it, I do. I swear it on the Blessed Virgin. That’s what happened. If you hadn’t found me and pulled me out of the water, I’d be dead right now. I’d be eaten up by a shark, maybe. Nobody would have known I drowned out there. I was half conscious when you found me. You know I was. You saved my life. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”