“I need to do more research on being Canadian,” Pilar mused. “Why did Magnus pick Canada, anyway?”
“Your accents say North America,” Sabine said pragmatically. “And you are Canadian because when it came time to acquire passports, those were the relevant connections Mr. Lindberg possessed. Also, no one in their right mind would believe I was traveling with two young American acquaintances. Your country sank into an abyss of paranoia and isolationism from which it has yet to emerge.”
“That reminds me, have you checked the news feeds today?” Loup asked Pilar.
“No, I’ll do it when we get back.”
Sabine blinked. “News feeds?”
“Yeah.” Loup nodded. “I mean, yes. The Outpost thing’s been in the news. Our friend Miguel Garza, he got out.”
“You got him out,” Pilar reminded her. “You won the ticket for him.”
“Yeah, well, he must have done some pretty impressive bullshitting for them to let him go, and then he managed to give them the slip. Anyway, he did an interview with this senator who’s trying to get Congress to hold hearings. The guy who interviewed us in Mexico, Senator Ballantine. And I guess they’ve got Mig stashed away in secret someplace. We’re waiting to see what happens.”
Sabine was quiet a moment. “I see. I haven’t followed much news out of the United States.”
“We don’t all suck, you know.” Loup sighed. “I still wish I knew what happened to Coach Roberts. I told Senator Ballantine to look for him, too, but there hasn’t been any mention in the news. And he was gonna be in more trouble than anyone for training me.”
“Your boxing coach?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes. He wasn’t an Outposter. He was a real U.S. citizen and everything.”
“Why don’t you contact the senator and ask if he knows anything?” Sabine suggested. “He’s a public official; his office number and email address will be on his website.”
Pilar looked at Loup. “We’re idiots.”
“I’m an idiot,” Loup said. “Christophe gave me his private number. It’s on that cell phone Magnus gave me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the one bragging about being a good researcher.” Pilar smacked her forehead. “Addie would be ashamed of me.”
“You’ve had a lot happening,” Sabine said with unexpected gentleness. “Call when you get back to the hotel. I hope you learn something.”
“I will,” Loup said. “Thank you, Sabine.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Hey, we’re getting pretty good at this civil stuff,” Pilar observed.
Sabine’s mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a nonpoisonous smile. “Do not become too accustomed to it.”
TWENTY-ONE
At the hotel, Loup called Senator Ballantine.
“Hi, sir. This is Loup Garron. From the Santa Olivia Outpost? Yeah, fine, thank you. Pilar and I, weve been following the news about Miguel and the hearings. I was wondering if you knew anything about Coach Roberts.” She listened. “Yeah, that’s too bad. I’m sorry. I’m still really glad to hear it.”
Pilar made an inquiring face.
Loup shook her head at her. “About Miguel, does he have a phone number? Could I talk to him?” She listened, wincing. “Uh-huh. I understand. Well, what about us? I’d be willing…” There was a long pause. “No, I understand. Are we in any danger now? Or my cousins?” She listened. “Okay, and if you can arrange it, that would be nice. Is there anything else you can tell me? Any idea what’s happening in Outpost?” She nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Okay, bye.”
“Well?” Pilar said anxiously.
“He found Coach Roberts and he’s okay,” Loup said with relief. “He’s left Outpost for a retirement community in Florida.”
“That’s nice, baby, but what was that bit about us being in danger?”
“We’re not,” Loup assured her. “Not as long as we stay out of the country. I guess there’s been some kind of undercover investigation, and the Mexican authorities reported that we disappeared after the debriefing.”
“So Magnus was right,” Pilar said. “The interview did get out.”
Loup nodded. “Only to some secret commission, but yeah. Anyway, Coach Roberts refused to let them interview him or talk about it at all. Says it’s a matter of national security.”
“The army got to him.”
“Yeah, I know. But I can’t entirely blame him. He’s an old guy, you know? He did a really brave thing in training me. Maybe that was all he had left in him. I think he just wants to live out the rest of his life in peace.”
“What about Miguel?”
Loup grinned. “Mig’s being a huge pain in the ass and they’re having a hard time keeping him in protective custody. He wants to go party. They’re afraid he’ll get disappeared if they let him go, and they need a live body to testify if they ever get hearings.”
Pilar gave her a suspicious look. “You told him you’d do it, didn’t you?”
“Well… yeah. Pilar, don’t be mad. I’d have to if it was the only way. But he said no, they’ve got Miguel and at least he’s not a GMO who’s considered government property and escaped from a military prison and has a bunch of charges against him.”
“I’m not mad, baby. I know you want to fix things, but we have to be smart about it. Don’t go volunteering for stuff like that unless we’ve talked about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Yes! I promise.”
“Good.” Pilar gave an exasperated sigh. “I mean, Jesus! If they want live bodies, they’ve gotta know where to find them. We left behind a whole town full of ’em, and I don’t think Santa Olivia’s the only Outpost.”
“They’re trying, but the army and the administration aren’t budging. No access, and no one’s talking. That’s all he could tell me. He’s gonna try to set up a supervised phone call with Mig,” Loup added. “They don’t trust him not to try and arrange to give them the slip.”
“Your big hero,” Pilar observed.
She laughed. “He’s still Miguel fucking Garza, you know?”
“Yeah. I’m glad your coach is okay, baby.”
“Me too.”
They left the following morning for the village of Taormina, Sabine driving an expensive rental car. The town’s narrow streets retained a charming medieval feel, but its origins were far older. At Magnus’ request, Sabine took them to see one of its most famous sights, a view overlooking an ancient Greek amphitheater with the sea and Mount Etna in the background. Through the bright autumn air, the distant snowcapped volcano issued plumes of steam.
“Ohmigod.” Pilar stared. “Is that real?”
“I feel like I did the first time we saw the ocean,” Loup said softly. “It’s just so big and so beautiful, you know?”
Pilar caught her hand without thinking. “I know.”
Magnus smiled. “I must admit, there’s a certain pleasure in seeing the world through such unspoiled eyes. Don’t you agree, Sabine?”
She made a noncommittal noise.
“But you are here on a job,” he reminded them. “No holding hands.”
“Sorry!” Pilar let go.
They dined together in relative civility that night in a restaurant with a garden terrace. Sabine confirmed that they had both studied their dossiers thoroughly and walked them through the plan.
“The wedding itself is not a concern,” she said. “No one will profane the sanctity of the church. It is afterward, at the reception at the villa, once the wine begins to flow.” She pointed at Pilar. “When dinner is served, you will be seated at a table beside Pasquale Picco. There will be no other women of interest at the table. Your job is to charm, flatter, and monopolize him. Understood?”
“Sì, signorina.”
“Do not attempt to speak Italian. Your accent is abominable.” Sabine turned to Loup. “I will be seated at a table with Gustavo Vittori. I will manage him throughout the dinner. It is once the formal events have ended
that there is the most likelihood of a contretemps.”
“Contretemps?” Loup inquired.
“Trouble,” she said briefly. “He becomes belligerent as he drinks. You and I, we will watch Gustavo. I have experience in these matters. If I sense he is about to make a move, I will signal you.” Her lip curled. “And you will move to intercept and defuse him.”
“Sure,” Loup agreed. “I can do that.”
“It’s not that you’re not more than capable,” Magnus said soothingly to Sabine. “It’s just that should the need arise, it’s my hope that Loup will make such an unexpected impression that it will stun him into compliance.”
She ground her teeth. “I understand that, sir.”
“Of course you do.”
“It’s your height,” Pilar supplied helpfully. “You’re very, um… statuesque, right? If I were a guy, I wouldn’t be surprised that you could kick my ass. I mean, you’ve got that whole killer ice queen dominatrix vibe going on.”
A familiar muscle twitched below Sabine’s right eye.
“What?” Pilar protested. “It works for you. It does.”
“Surprise is a virtue,” Magnus interceded, hoisting his wineglass. “Let us hope that tomorrow holds none not of our planning.”
They clinked glasses.
“What are you going to be doing, Magnus?” Loup asked. “Ah… Mr. Lindberg?”
He contemplated the depths of his wineglass. “Praying.”
The wedding took place at four o’clock on the following day. Pilar spent most of the afternoon fussing with her hair.
“Guys like it down, they do, I know they do. All guys have a long hair fetish. But it looks like shit with this dress. Shit! I’m not sure. I’m out of practice. What do you think, baby?”
Loup glanced up from her travel book. “Up, but with swirlies.”
“Swirlies?”
She gestured. “Hanging down.”
“Like this?” Pilar coiled a few loose tendrils around her fingers, then let them dangle.
“Perfect. Why are you so nervous? All you have to do is flirt with this guy. You could do that in your sleep, Pilar.”
“I don’t know.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s always been fun. The only time it wasn’t was with Rory Salamanca, and I don’t feel good about that. I hurt you, and I wasn’t exactly fair to him, either.”
“I know.” Loup kissed her cheek. “But this is totally different. You’ll be using your awesome flirting superpowers for good instead of evil.”
Pilar smiled reluctantly. “You think?”
“Yep.”
“Do I look okay?”
“Model for me,” Loup said. She watched Pilar stand and turn on high heels. Her dress had a bold floral pattern and a plunging neckline, and it clung to her shapely ass like a lover. “You look more than okay. You look hotter than fucking hell. And you’re not wearing any underwear, are you?”
“No. Okay, quit looking at me that way. I’m gonna get all turned on and distracted.” Pilar smiled again, more relaxed. “And you look really pretty, too. Like an ice cream caramel sundae.”
“Huh?” Loup glanced down at herself.
“Cool and sweet and lickable. Okay, I’m shutting up now.”
The wedding took place in a Renaissance cathedral. It was formal and interminable and involved a great deal of kneeling while the priest droned on in Italian. Loup looked around at the wedding guests, trying to identify their targets from the backs of their heads. She spotted Vincenzo Picco’s distinctive gray mane. She studied the pink marble columns, carved at the top to look like fish scales.
She thought about the church at home and wondered what Father Ramon and all the Santitos were doing. She wished there was a way to tell them that the world was changing, that things might not always be as they had been, and that Miguel Garza might turn out to be a hero after all.
At last it ended. When they went through the receiving line, Fiorella greeted Sabine like a long-lost friend, hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks. She exclaimed over Loup and Pilar, and made a point of introducing them all to the wedding party.
“How delightful!” Pasquale Picco kissed Pilar’s hand, lingering long enough to peer down her cleavage. “I hope to see you at the reception, signorina.”
She giggled. “You Italian men are so charming!”
He smiled at her. “Some more than others, I hope.”
On the groom’s side of the wedding party, Gustavo Vittori glowered briefly, replacing the expression with a smooth mask of courtesy to greet the next guest.
The reception was at a country villa twenty minutes outside of town. They drove in a long convoy of cars, Sabine at the wheel.
“Well, you definitely made the right first impression,” Loup offered.
Pilar shuddered. “Ick.”
“At least he’s better looking than the photos in his dossier. Hey, do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, but he’s one of those guys who look at you in a way that makes your skin crawl.” Pilar fished in her decorative little purse and handed Loup a small bag of mixed nuts. “Sorry. That’s all I could fit.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sabine said irritably. “There will be food at the reception.”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to have to wolf it down like I’ve been on a deserted island, okay? I’m trying to be discreet.”
Sabine’s lips thinned. “Fine. Just try not to gawk at the villa.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
The villa was gorgeous, the reception impossibly luxurious. The guests mingled on the expansive pool terrace while servers in white tuxedo shirts and crisp black pants circulated with trays of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. When Pasquale Picco arrived, he made a beeline for Pilar.
“You must let me show you the grounds, signorina,” he said smoothly, taking her arm.
She went with him, rolling her eyes when he wasn’t looking.
“Vincenzo Picco called that one right, huh?” Loup said to Sabine.
“So it appears,” she said absently, glancing around. “Gustavo is the one I worry about. Did you see his expression in the cathedral?”
“The one where he looked ready to explode?”
“Yes.” Sabine gave her a serious look. “Keep a sharp eye on him, Loup. If you have to make a move without my signal, do it. Tonight, I will not begrudge you your speed. Our reputation is at stake.” She paused. “Also, Magnus agreed to certain terms. We will not get paid if we cannot avert violence.”
“Okay. You might not want to mention that to Pilar. She’s already a little nervous.”
The newlyweds arrived. There were innumerable champagne toasts. Pasquale returned to offer one, temporarily freeing Pilar.
“You okay?” Loup whispered to her.
“Mildly groped, but otherwise, yes. You?”
“Yeah.” She nodded at an increasingly florid-faced Gustavo Vittori. “Just trying to keep an eye on him.”
They were ushered in to dinner without incident. Loup, seated at a table without anyone she knew, watched Pilar flirt shamelessly with Pasquale, while at yet another table, Sabine made an attempt to engage the glowering Gustavo.
“So, Canada, eh?” A young man seated to her right smiled at her. “What is it like there?”
“Cold. Lots of wolves.”
He blinked. “Wolves?”
“I’m kidding.” She returned his smile. “Joking. You know joking, right?”
“Of course,” he said. “Maybe you will dance with me later, Canada?”
Her smile turned rueful, knowing the odds were good he wouldn’t like it if she did. It made her miss the easy camaraderie of her cousins. “Maybe.”
There were more toasts after dinner. Vincenzo Picco gave a lengthy one. He caught Loup’s gaze toward the end and closed one eye in a deliberate wink. She smiled despite herself. The bride and bridegroom glowed, joyous and happy.
And then it was back to the terrace, now adorned with hanging la
nterns, for more champagne and dancing. The pool shimmered with wavering blue-green light. A string quartet in formal attire played.
The bride and groom danced alone to the first song.
Then others danced.
Pasquale held Pilar close, whispering in her ear. She giggled obligingly.
Gustavo’s shoulders hunched and twitched. He conferred with a handful of men around him, then moved toward the dance floor.
“Loup—” Sabine began.
“On my way!” She threaded her way quickly and deftly through the wedding guests and intercepted Gustavo Vittori, blocking his way. “Hi.”
He stared at her. “Che cosa?”
She slid her right hand up his left arm and pressed hard on a point on his inner elbow with her thumb, smiling sweetly at him. “You speak English, right? Well, I’m this wedding’s guardian fucking angel. And you’re not going to make any trouble, are you, signore? Because if you are, I’m going to have to press hard enough to do permanent damage to the nerve center and you’ll never use this hand again. It’s already numb, isn’t it?”
Gustavo glowered.
Sabine arrived, gliding behind Loup. “I believe your car is waiting, signore,” she said, smooth and diplomatic. “You would be well advised to say your farewells and leave.”
He hesitated, still glowering.
“If it’s any consolation, your new brother-in-law is so not getting laid tonight,” Loup added with another sweet smile, maintaining pressure. “This wedding has more than one guardian angel.”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Truly?”
“Absolutely.”
It was enough to make him relent. He gathered his men, said his farewells, and left peaceably.
“That was brilliant!” Fiorella effused. “I don’t know what you said to make him leave quietly, but I like it very much.” She gave Loup a hug and kissed her on both cheeks, then drew back, startled. “Oh!”
“I know, I know,” she said, resigned. “I feel weird. Sorry.”
The bride wore an odd expression. “That is not the word I would use.”
“Ohh-kay.” Loup took a quick step backward. “Hey, where’s Pilar?”
[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray Page 16