Raul suddenly stopped speaking, distracted by the sight of John Finway, who had abruptly slumped forward in his chair and covered his face with his hands.
Raul looked away, torn between feelings of triumph and a depth of sympathy for the Americans that took him completely by surprise. “As a security measure, we began checking everyone on the tour,” he continued uncertainly. His most fervent desire had been to break these people down; actually seeing John Finway crumble made him nervous. His hatred had disappeared, along with his erection. There was no question in his mind that these people would be imprisoned, and that caused him vague discomfort which he could not understand. He was a tour guide, Raul thought, not a prosecutor. Power could hurt. He found he actually felt protective toward the woman, and that bothered him. Still, this job had been forced on him, and he knew that his future depended on how well he did it.
“That’s when we found out, Mrs. Finway, that you haven’t used your maiden name since the mid nineteen sixties, when you married your husband. The passport you’re traveling on was issued only a few weeks before the trip.” He paused, took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Now I would like the three of you to explain why Mr. Peters is traveling with Mrs. Finway, and why you have been behaving as if Mr. Finway were a stranger.”
“It’s all my fault,” Finway said in a hoarse voice. When he took his hands from his face and looked up his eyes were red-rimmed, his face wet with tears. “Oh God, Raul, now I can see why you’re so suspicious. You don’t understand.” He laughed bitterly as he turned toward the woman. “I guess I’ve really put us all into a jam, haven’t I? I suppose it was stupid of me to try to hang onto you.”
“Stupid is your middle name, John!” Alexandra Finway snapped savagely. “That’s why I left you. Why I ever … Just tell Raul the truth so we can all get the hell out of here!”
Raul’s stomach began to rumble ominously. He didn’t realize he was backing away until he was stopped by the edge of the desk.
“My wife left me a month ago,” the lawyer said, once again lowering his head to stare at the floor. “Our marriage had been … falling apart anyway. I knew she had a lover, but I didn’t know who it was. I found out Alexandra was going to San Sierra, and I had the crazy notion that I could win her back if I followed her. Alexandra didn’t know until we landed here that I was following her, and I hadn’t known she was traveling with … him. I confronted them here at the airport. You saw what happened to me, Raul. I looked into my wife’s eyes and … I guess I truly realized for the first time that she didn’t love me anymore. I knew then that I wasn’t going to get her back. I just … fell apart.”
“Hell, we didn’t want to make a scene at the airport,” Peters said easily. “John goes out of his head sometimes, but he’s a decent guy. Losing Alexandra kind of got to him. Getting into that kind of scene at the airport wasn’t going to do his reputation any good. Also, buddy, we didn’t want to embarrass you people. As you saw, we got John on the bus at the airport and managed to calm him down. The three of us agreed that it was best to act as if we just didn’t know each other; otherwise, John would have been the laughingstock of the group all week. That would have ruined the trip for everybody. You can understand that, can’t you, Raul?”
Raul felt the blood rushing to his face, but he was powerless to stop it. “You’ve been sleeping with this man’s wife right under his nose?”
“Please, Raul,” John Finway rasped. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“John’s been my husband in name only for a very long time,” Alexandra Finway said stiffly. “We’re in the process of getting a divorce. He’s known for months that I was in love with someone else. He had no business coming along to spy on me, and I wasn’t about to let him ruin a vacation I’d been looking forward to just because of his jealousy and childishness.”
Raul opened his mouth to speak, but he could think of nothing to say and no sound would come out. He closed his mouth and half turned in the direction of the door behind him, as though looking for help.
“Oh, shit, man,” Peters said. “You thought we might be—?” He threw back his head and laughed loudly. The laughter finally trailed off; Peters looked at Raul and opened his eyes wide, mockingly, as he thrust his head forward. “Hey, Raul, maybe we’re spies.”
“Raul?” Finway said softly. “I’ve made enough of a fool of myself. I know I’m … not well. I think … I know I’d very much like to go home now, if you can arrange it.”
“Just a minute,” Raul said tightly. “Uh, the three of you wait right here.”
“Don’t be too long, Raul!” the Sierran heard Peters call after him as he slipped through the door into the adjoining room. “We paid for this chickenshit vacation, and you’re wasting our time!”
The two agents had unplugged their tape recorder and were packing up their other equipment. Raul stood just inside the door, breathing heavily. The tall, brown-skinned man motioned for him to come closer, and Raul walked across the room on legs that felt wooden and unsteady.
“We’ll bring you two cars,” the man said. “Have Constantina take Peters and the woman on to Angeles Blanca. She’ll smooth things over with them. You—”
“What if they’re lying, sir? Who was this Swarzwalder, and what was he doing here?”
“Keep your voice down, Raul,” the man said coolly, his dark eyes flashing a warning. “We’ll trace the dead man. We don’t think these three had anything to do with him. Finway’s a lawyer, not an actor, and he did get his visa at the last moment. In any case, this matter is no longer your concern; running this tour smoothly is. You know the importance Manuel attaches to tourism. Take Finway directly to the airport and send him home as he asks. Put him on the first plane that will take him back. Sierratour will pick up any additional expense.”
Raul cleared his throat noisily, fighting back a growing sense of panic as he watched the two men preparing to leave by the rear exit. “Uh, sir? Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to get into trouble as a result of this. I’m sure there’ll be a formal complaint.” He coughed drily. “Sir, I’m afraid I’ll lose my job.”
The tall man paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Raul,” the man said not unkindly. We’ll make sure you’re not dismissed; you make sure Finway is on this way home as quickly as possible. Be nice to him, be courteous, but get him on a plane. Under no circumstances allow him back with the others. If he’s going to have a breakdown, we don’t want him to have it in San Sierra. Let them work out their personal problems in their own country.” The tall man paused again, looked at his partner and smiled thinly. “San Sierra doesn’t need any unfavorable articles in the travel section of the New York Times.”
The second man grunted, then spoke for the first time. “Or in the National Enquirer.”
“Yes, sir,” Raul said. “Thank you, sir.” But the two men were already gone.
He took a series of deep breaths in a futile effort to relax himself, then returned to the other room. Peters and Alexandra Finway were on their feet now. They were talking excitedly with one another, their voices taut with outrage. Finway was still slumped in his chair, his face covered with his hands.
“Excuse me, please,” Raul said, putting a hand over his mouth and coughing loudly. He felt like an animal at bay. He hated the thought of being in thrall to the Americans, but he hated the thought of losing his job even more. He had been told to be courteous.
Peters and the woman stopped talking and looked at him with open hostility on their faces.
“Please accept my apologies,” Raul continued thickly, addressing himself to the standing man and woman. “There was a misunderstanding, but now it has been cleared up. It was a matter of security.” He paused and smiled tentatively. “The rest of the trip will be wonderful for you. You will see. You will have a wonderful time in Angeles Blanca.”
Peters slowly and deliberately looked at his watch, then placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward sligh
tly. “You’ve got to be kidding, Raul. You hang us up here for hours, insult and yell at us, then tell us we’re going to have a wonderful time?”
“Constantina will drive you to Angeles Blanca,” Raul said quickly. “The trip is much faster by car. Mr. Finway, I will personally drive you to the airport as soon as you’ve packed.”
“I want to talk to my wife.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, John!” Alexandra Finway said, throwing her head back and clenching her fists in exasperation. “What is there left to say?”
John Finway slowly took his hands away from his face and looked up at his wife. When he spoke, Raul thought the man’s tone was subtly different, more controlled. “I would like to talk to you before I leave, Alexandra. Perhaps you can give me that. I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
The woman glanced at Peters and sighed wearily. “Whatever will make you happy, John.”
Finway rose unsteadily to his feet and blew his nose. “Are we free to go, Raul?”
“Of course you are free to go,” Raul said nervously. “Why don’t we all plan to meet at the front of the hotel in, uh, half an hour? Call the desk clerk when you’re ready and he’ll send someone to bring your bags down.”
“Thank you, Raul,” Alexandra Finway said sweetly. “I’m sure everything’s going to be fine now.”
John Finway turned and walked out of the office without another word. The other two followed. Raul cursed under his breath, then strode quickly across the room and slammed the door shut.
John
“Jesus H. Christ,” Peters breathed as they walked away from the hotel, following John toward a small, wooded knoll a hundred yards from the entrance.
“John,” Alexandra said quietly, “you were magnificent.”
John said nothing, nor did he look at the other two people until he had reached a shaded area protected by two large trees. When he did turn around he could see Constantina pacing nervously, head down and arms crossed over her chest, in the driveway at the front of the hotel.
“That was some number you did on our Sierran amigo back there,” Peters said evenly. “You saved our big fat collective ass. Nice job, John.”
“Okay,” John replied curtly. “Maybe that makes us even. Now I’d like to talk to my wife. Privately.”
Peters’ cold, pale eyes stared at the taller man. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, John,” he said softly after a long pause. “We’re out of it. Why take a chance on screwing up now? For Christ’s sake, Constantina’s right over there, and you know that red-faced runt is going to be watching us out of the window.”
“Get the hell out of here,” John said evenly to Peters.
Peters stayed where he was, staring hard at John.
“Go, Rick,” Alexandra said, lightly touching the blond-haired man’s arm.
John looked into Alexandra’s eyes as Peters abruptly wheeled and walked back in the direction of the hotel. He sensed that Alexandra was waiting for him to speak, but he simply continued to stare at her. He was searching for a glimpse of his wife somewhere in the liquid depths of the dark brown eyes, but she wasn’t there. The memory of the scorn he had seen in her eyes the day before still seared and shamed him. The contempt was gone now, but it had merely been replaced by a hot excitement that John knew had nothing to do with him.
“You were magnificent, John,” Alexandra said at last.
“Not really,” John replied evenly. “It wasn’t a big deal. It was the kind of situation where I operate best. Raul isn’t exactly Mr. District Attorney, and any rookie lawyer would have recognized that scene as a fishing expedition. How much could they have found out overnight? As soon as they rounded us up and put us in that room, I knew that Sierran intelligence had found out about Swarzwalder and us, but the moment I saw Raul I knew they weren’t sure what to make of it. They were looking for us to show them the connection, if there was one. If they hadn’t been fishing, we’d have been interrogated by someone a hell of a lot tougher than Raul. He was just trotted out to test our reactions. They’re worried about adverse publicity.”
Alexandra nodded thoughtfully. “Of course you’re right. I should have figured that out. I was just too frightened.”
“He was milking that buildup to our marriage hard enough to rupture a herd of cows. I kept hoping you’d short-circuit him by stepping on his punch line.” John smiled wryly, without humor. “You’re the actor in the family.”
“Laurence Olivier couldn’t have played that scene better than you did, John. Your face; your tears.”
“I’m a nickel-and-dime method actor; any lawyer has to be. If you think I’m good, you should see some of my clients.” The suggestion of a smile disappeared. “I knew I had to make it look convincing. I managed the tears by imagining Kara and Kristen trying to explain to Michael why it would be a very long time before he saw his parents again. I visualized him living with our relatives, calling some other couple Mommy and Daddy.”
“God, John,” Alexandra said in a hushed voice, a veil of hurt momentarily clouding her eyes. “It’s hard enough for me without you saying something like that.”
“Don’t ‘God, John’ me, Alexandra! There are people back in the real world who need you. I need you. If I knew how to make it harder for you, I would. For just a second, when I mentioned our children, I saw my wife standing in front of me. Now she’s run off someplace again.”
Alexandra glanced around her nervously. John followed the direction of her gaze and saw that Peters was talking to Constantina.
“She isn’t gone, John,” Alexandra said quietly. “She’s working. Now I have to go. I’m glad you’re going home. I’ll be there Sunday.”
“Will you, Alexandra?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Alexandra said. But she would not meet his gaze.
“You’re going through a lot of changes here. It’s not just the pressure. You like the pressure, the excitement; I can see that, even if no one else can. You’re still flying high, and it isn’t from fear or out of concern for me or the kids. You remind me now of what you were like when I first met you: hyper and hidden, with big, empty spaces inside you. Now I understand. This business sucks something good out of you; it’s twisting you out of shape, Alexandra. I’m not sure if you’re ever going to get right again—or even if you want to get right.” John paused. When Alexandra didn’t reply, he continued, “Can you look at me and tell me for sure that you’ll be coming home when this is over?”
He could see the muscles in her neck quiver, as if she were struggling against some great weight pressing against the back of her skull. Slowly her head came up. Her mouth was set in a thin, tense line, and her face was ashen. “This is a hell of a time to ask me something like that, John.”
“That’s Exhibit A,” John said tightly. “I have to leave San Sierra now whether I want to or not. The fact is that I want to. Come home with me, Alexandra. Right now. I still don’t believe the CIA would mount an operation like this. There’s something wrong with the feel of this thing; very, very wrong. Let’s pack our bags and get the hell out of here while we can, together.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I know nothing of the kind. The man you were after is dead.”
“There could be a second man. Rick explained that to you.”
“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. One thing for certain is that their top gun is out of the way.”
“John, that isn’t certain at all. Swarzwalder, or whoever he was, may not have been the principal assassin. He may have simply been an errand boy. He was searching rooms, remember?”
“So what? Peters can handle the baby-sitting chores tomorrow night by himself. Don’t forget that Salva will be surrounded by his own security men. Even if there is another assassin, he’s going to be off his feed after what happened to his partner. If he’s as smart as the two of you seem to think he is, he’ll call the operation off and come back another day. Let Peters mop up. You’ve done your job. Le
t’s have an instant reconciliation and get out of here.”
“Not yet, John,” Alexandra said firmly. “It’s just not finished. I can’t leave Rick here to handle things by himself. This kind of operation requires two people to do it right. I just can’t walk away from this.”
“That’s what worries me most, Alexandra. This business stinks; you know there’s something wrong with it, and yet you can’t walk away. So I give you Exhibit B: neither of us is in the clear on this marriage question.”
“Well, it’s not helping that we’re standing here so long,” Alexandra said with annoyance. “I don’t feel like putting on a performance now, John. I don’t want to have to start yelling to make it look good. Please go home and let me do my job.”
“Let me finish. You must realize that Raul was just the point man, a stalking horse, back there. There had to be pros listening in, behind the other door.”
“Of course. But they told Raul to let us go.”
“For now. You don’t know what they’re thinking; they can reverse that decision any time they want. Remember, they had just one night to vet us. Everyone’s open for normal business today. You know I did a lot of ad-libbing back there, and that story isn’t going to hold up if they really start to look at it. If they find out we lied, you and Peters are going to prison. If you’re questioned again, it won’t be by Raul and it won’t be in a resort hotel. You may not make it to this evening, what’s more to Sunday. It seems to me that Peters is safer by himself; it’ll take the pressure off him if you come back with me now. This is a case where one head, Peters’, is definitely better than two.” He held out his hand. “Mrs. Finway? I think the kids will be very happy to see the two of us back together.”
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