Secrets and Lies

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Secrets and Lies Page 24

by Selena Montgomery


  Senora Martinez rose and gestured to her companion. “I had time to talk to an old schoolmate I haven’t seen since pigtails. This is Senor Jorge Ruiz. He is the new bank manager for this branch. May I introduce my friends Katelyn Lyda and her fiancé, Sebastian Caine?” Gabriela stood beside the distinguished older man, with Sebastian and Kat forming a loose circle.

  “Buenos días, Senor Ruiz,” Sebastian flashed a look of approval to the preening Gabriela. In another life, she’d have made an excellent operative, he decided. “I admire your operation,” he said as he shook the man’s hand. “A very modern bank.”

  Senor Ruiz puffed up. “I was transferred here two weeks ago, and we have already whipped the staff into shape.”

  Sebastian noted the placement of cameras, the bank of monitors that indicated where each patron stood. A security guard prowled the rear of the bank, where customers would examine their priceless belongings. “Excellent facility. I am a connoisseur of banks, and this branch is far more sophisticated than its peers. I may have to make a return visit, when I am not in such a hurry.”

  Kat nearly choked, and Senora Martinez grinned behind the banker’s back.

  “Ah, please do. I would be happy to give you a tour.”

  Gabriela interjected. “But we cannot delay today, Senor Ruiz. They have a flight to home tomorrow.”

  “Yes, yes.” Senor Ruiz nodded sympathetically. “Gabriela was explaining your predicament to me. That you are leaving for the States to marry, but that your family’s wedding ring is in your uncle’s safe-deposit box.”

  Kat shot a look at Senora Martinez, who shrugged slightly, as though to say she’d made up the best story she could. Playing along, Kat allowed her eyes to mist, softening her voice. “Yes, and with Tio Felix’s passing, he will not be able to bring it to the wedding. I can’t believe that he’s gone. But if we had the ring—”

  Knowing she wasn’t wholly acting, Sebastian brought Kat to his side, his hand stroking her shoulder in comfort. “If we had the ring,” he picked up, “it would be as if he was with us.”

  Senor Ruiz strode forward and patted Kat’s cheek. “Bank policy normally requires you to provide the account number and other documentation. But Gabriela tells me that you only have the key. And that you discovered your uncle’s death.”

  “Sí.”

  “What tragedy before such a joyous occasion.” He curved his skinny mouth into an indulgent smile. “I am the manager, and circumstances must be considered. If you have the key, I will take you to the box.”

  Fishing the key from his pocket, he passed it to Senor Ruiz. “We appreciate your accommodation. It has been a trying time, these last few days.”

  “I can but imagine.” Senor Ruiz accepted the key, noting the digits imprinted on the head. His eyes widened. The sequence indicated that Felix Estrada had access to their vaults, a rare privilege extended only to the best of customers. However, no Felix Estrada maintained a vault at his bank. But a Felix Mutambo did. A phantom customer who, according to his assistant manager, shipped items to them for safekeeping every few years but paid a high premium for the privilege. Jorge himself had been inside the vault only once, and the memory of what it contained had fueled dreams of wealth and status.

  He aimed a reassessing look at the trio in front of him, each face carefully blank. “How did you come to learn of this key?”

  Kat spoke first, her words husky. “At his house. I was cataloging his belongings, and we discovered the key. The wedding ring was nowhere to be found, so I assumed he kept it here.”

  “In Huanco? Half an hour from Canete?” Suspicion edged into his tone, and Senor Ruiz frowned heavily. “An unusual choice for a man of great wealth, to hide a ring in a vault. And for you to mistake it for a safe-deposit box.”

  A vault, Sebastian thought grimly. No wonder the helpful bank manager had gotten cold feet. Felix had hidden more than a secret bunker and a murder weapon. He possessed other items sufficiently valuable to warrant a secured hiding place miles from home.

  Knowing they were about to lose their access, he decided to cut to the chase. In a conspiratorial tone, he mused aloud, “Senor Ruiz, you must have heard the rumors about your customer. He traveled widely and discovered remarkable treasures. Some of which may have had dubious provenance. I expect the Banco de Bahia enjoys an enviable reputation for its stewardship of its clients. It would surely not do to have us seek court assistance to recover a very small item from among larger prizes, no?”

  Senor Ruiz heard the veiled threat of exposure to the authorities, a fate no bank wished for, regardless of how well run. An investigation so early in his tenure would spell ruin. Cutting a look at Gabriela, he noted the slight pallor beneath her skin and the flush of color on her niece. Senor Caine, though, appeared wholly at ease. Absently, he caressed his fiancée, his hand beneath her unbound hair. Jorge was uncertain of the real reason for their visit, but the casual affection spoke of intimacy. And he’d known Gabriela for years, had a passing acquaintance with Felix. Who pretended to also be Felix Mutambo.

  If either man named Felix was dead, there’d be no harm in allowing his grieving kin to open his vault. That would be his defense, should the worst transpire. Sucking in a breath, he exhaled heavily and pointed to the vault doors behind the guard. “Follow me.”

  Chapter 23

  Gabriela Martinez fell into step behind Ruiz, heart pounding in her ears. Heels clicked on the slick marble, an echo of the sound. She had no idea what would lie behind the vault door, and trepidation skated through her, questioning her choices. The tellers watched their procession with interest, and she forced herself to stare straight ahead.

  The presence of the guard at the rear of the bank cemented her anxiety. He carried a gun low on his hip, within easy reach, should Ruiz sound the alarm. She didn’t know if it would be necessary, if the contents of Felix’s stash would warrant the summoning of police.

  Felix had recounted his exploits to her, friend to friend, but the revelation of the vault had come as news. Startling news. To her mind, there were few reasons for needing such heavy security beyond the impenetrable bunker beneath the house he’d built or within the safe in his bedroom. Every reason she could conjure spelled crimes that had to be hidden even from her.

  Crimes like murder or possibly worse.

  It was that comprehension that lurched her pulse into a frenzied race. In the eyes of the law, she could be viewed an accomplice. Indeed, she’d protected his information—out of loyalty and, were she to be honest, the golden thrill of the clandestine. But what lies had she protected? she wondered now, watching Ruiz enter his code into the digital keypad beside the high steel door.

  Perhaps, had she been a better advisor, she would have discouraged his obsession or broken her vows earlier. To have known a man her entire life and yet to comprehend so little of him was frightening. As soon as she returned home, she and her husband would have a very long talk about untold stories and private knowledge.

  A green light glowed and flashed, and the banker entered a second code that released the locks with a solemn click. He levered the handle down and sidled over to allow the bulky door to swing on hydraulic hinges. Ruiz motioned her forward, and Kat and Sebastian entered behind her, no one speaking in the cool, low-lighted chamber.

  She examined three walls with their metal boxes emblazoned with numbered tags. But it was the fourth long wall that caught her attention, spellbound. Like a movie scene, a second man guarded five cumbersome doors, each with a wide wheel and metal spokes.

  “Just a moment, please.” Jorge Ruiz crossed to a computer and typed in a series of keystrokes. Information flashed onto the flat panel, and he scribbled the contents onto a slip of paper at his wrist.

  He beckoned them forward to the second vault. Again, he entered a code on the digital pad and lifted a keycard to swipe in front of a card reader. When the panel beeped imperiously, he spun the vault wheel and yanked the handle to open the door.

  “I can offer yo
u thirty minutes, and no more. There is a drawer inside the vault. This key will open the lock.” He handed Sebastian the key and bowed slightly. “I do not expect any of the contents not in the box to depart with you.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Gracias.” When Gabriela moved to enter, he blocked her path. “Senora, I need you to stay out here.”

  Kat and Gabriela fixed him with twin looks of surprise.

  “I know what is behind this door,” Gabriela protested.

  “No, you don’t. And as long as you stay out here, neither you nor your family will have any part in this.” He dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “You have done enough for Felix. Kat and I are American citizens, with better protection should the contents be troublesome. Isn’t that right, Senor Ruiz?”

  Ruiz studied Sebastian with shrewd approval. “Yes. The laws of our country would have short reach into the U.S., but Canete poses no obstacle.”

  Catching on, Kat added, “Perhaps you should stay here in Huanco until Sebastian and I return, Senora. Given the excitement at home.”

  Annoyed, touched by the overly protective gestures, Gabriela gave a sharp nod. “I will contact Josef and have him meet me here.” Fishing in her purse, she handed Kat the keys to her truck. “I would hear of your success.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  With a courtly gesture, Ruiz bowed to Gabriela. “I would invite you to visit with my family, Senora Martinez. While we await your husband’s arrival.”

  Gabriela pinned Sebastian with a quelling look. “Do not let her come to any harm, or you will answer to me.”

  “Sí.”

  Unsatisfied, but having no recourse, Gabriela hugged Kat, then turned to follow Ruiz out.

  Inside the vault, automatic lights flickered to life, their glow subdued in the gray room. The size of a walk-in closet, the vault was roughly eight by twelve, forcing them to huddle close in the air-conditioned space. Sebastian swiftly inspected the contents and emitted a soft whistle. Statuary fashioned from gold nestled against bronze vessels from China’s early dynasties. With his trained eye, he identified a pewter box that had been removed from a Grecian museum nearly half a century ago, the box reputed to be the twin of a second chest in Vatican City, rumored to contain the seeds from Persephone’s fateful visit to Hades. He moved quickly among the boxes and the pieces that had been set out for display. More artifacts remained crated, their bills of lading dating back nearly a decade.

  “Felix was a very, very busy man.” He made the comment as he picked up a burial urn they’d fought over in Egypt. “And extremely prolific. The theft of most of these artifacts have been claimed by other men and women. I never would have suspected Felix.”

  “All of these items are stolen?” Kat posed the question, not sure she wanted the answer. Her concept of right and wrong had been inviolate a week ago. Now she barely felt the censure that was certainly due. The tempered response worried her, and she frowned. “Tio Felix was a thief too? I thought you said he paid for his collection.”

  “I thought so too,” Sebastian murmured, gawking over a scroll cased in bulletproof glass, the text written in Sanskrit. “But these items are generally not allowed out of their countries of origin, regardless of price. I wonder how—” Sebastian stopped himself, not wanting to destroy any more illusions.

  He rose from his position near the scroll and turned in the compact space. Briskly, he gestured to the drawer that sat squarely in the wall and held out the key to Katelyn. “We need the map and the funds. Open it.”

  She accepted the key gingerly, as though expecting it to bite. When she approached the drawer, she discovered it reached her at sternum level. “Okay.” Pushing past the jumble of crates, she jammed the key into the slot and twisted. The metal door popped open, revealing a brass box on a tray. Kat slid the tray forward and tested the key in the second slot. Again, the lock released.

  Kat raised the metal lid and breath wedged in her throat. Crisp bills in various currencies stood in precise stacks. A clutch of diamonds glittered in a clear vial. Two passports bore the marks of the United States and Spain. She plucked the documents from the box, flipping to the pictures. Tio Felix stared up at her, the names altered to read Felix Mutambo and Juan de Borrero. Cash, diamonds, and fake documents. But no map.

  “It’s not here, Sebastian. The map isn’t here.”

  Sebastian came up behind her and reached around to the box. As she watched his hand, he lifted the black tray, revealing a second layer below the first.

  A folded document nestled on the velvet base. Kat retrieved the document, still sheltered within Sebastian’s embrace. Below the paper, a letter embossed in ornate ink remained along with a Lexar Jump Drive.

  “This first,” he instructed softly, his mouth near her ear. He lowered his arm to offer a supportive hug, savoring the light shudder that coursed through her body. “Check the map.”

  She unfolded the page with care, the paper fragile and brittle. Spreading it on the tray, the ends dropped over the sides. Sebastian caught them and gently held the paper taut for her examination. In an instant, she recognized the map of Bahia. “There,” she exclaimed, pointing to a red dot positioned between Canete and the point where the Amazon threaded through Bahia. “This must be where the Mutambo live.”

  The lines wound through foothills and over areas of the countryside where few ventured. Kat traced the winding path, lines furrowing between her brows. “Terrain in southeastern Bahia is notoriously rugged. Despite efforts by the government, paved roads haven’t penetrated the entire expanse. The Mutambo welcome the ser vices when they are offered, but the government claims it is too costly to connect this area to the rest of the nation. Chronic poverty separated the Mutambo from their Bahian cousins, and technology has yet to re unite the country.”

  Sebastian remembered the war vaguely, one of many that had raged in South America. “Why are they so isolated? Is it because the indigenous population mixed with the African slaves?”

  “Not exactly. For centuries, yes, they were isolated because of race, but in the 1880s, the government accepted the mélange of Bahia. However, in the 1970s, a civil war broke out. After the war, the federal government cordoned off this area, ceding it to the Mutambo and other groups of the indigenous population, but they did little to provide assistance, despite the cease-fire treaty.”

  “The Mutambo are freedom fighters?”

  Kat shook her head fiercely. “No, but they got caught in the middle. An emblem of the guerillas and a scapegoat for the government. Since the truce a decade ago, neither group has done much for them, and the Mutambo retreated deeper into the land between the Amazon and the Andes. They don’t welcome strangers, especially Norte Americanos.”

  “Then we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

  “Not the least of which is getting into the area without drawing attention,” Kat announced, recalling the terrain from her studies with Tio Felix.

  Sebastian concurred. Measuring the distance, he estimated their travel time. “The area is about seventy-five klicks from Canete. Three or four hours from here, with good weather.”

  Kat twisted to look up at him, her eyes clear and direct. “Then we should get going. Your friends will be here soon.”

  “Kat—” He began to explain, but stopped the excuse from emerging. Shame writhed through him, despite her unexpected reaction to his betrayal. He’d never thought to be understood quite so well. “You’re right, we need to move.”

  He refolded the map and reached for the second document, handing it to Kat. She flipped a thumb through the wax seal and pinched the letter to remove it from the aged envelope. She read the ancient Spanish quickly, at last understanding. Passing the missive to Sebastian, she explained, “It’s a letter from Father Borrero to the leader of the Mutambo. We have to take it with us.”

  Sebastian continued to cradle Kat between his arms, reading the letter over her shoulder. He grasped most of the text, occasionally asking for clarity on the unfamiliar Quechua phrases. �
�He knew they would want to see this, to understand.”

  With reluctance, he shifted away, freeing Kat to place the letter and map inside her satchel. He removed the money and the remaining contents. Should Senor Ruiz get curious or cold feet, Sebastian wanted no proof of Felix’s connection to the artifacts. Without the passports, all the banker had was room filled with questionable items and a phantom client who did not use his own name.

  When the items were secured, he opened the vault door and led Kat through the bank and out of the glass doors. The sun had dipped slightly during their visit, and siesta had taken hold. They hurried down the steps and headed for the Jeep.

  Sebastian acknowledged a prickle of awareness that danced along his spine, and he furtively scanned the scattered parking areas. Two blocks over, on the opposite side of the square, a blue police car idled.

  He noted the vehicle and the other cars that surrounded them. Ten yards back, their truck waited in front of the strip mall. Past the police car. Keeping the easy, loping stride he used to accommodate Kat’s shorter stride, he imperceptibly slowed them to get a better look. With a sidelong glance that seemed casual, he examined the occupants. A slender man and a skinny boy sat in the front seat, and a large, round head reclined against the rear passenger window.

  “We’ve got company.” He murmured the warning to Kat, his grip tightening on her cool fingers. “Don’t look at me or over my shoulder.”

  In involuntary response, her head shot up, but she did not look. Her feet stumbled momentarily, but she quickly righted herself. “Who?”

  With an approving smile, Sebastian quickened their pace slightly, the increase barely noticeable. He’d stashed the pistol in his waistband, the black T-shirt he wore covering the slight bulge. The weight reassured him, but the gun was almost out of bullets. “It’s Enzo. They’re in the parking lot on the square. Blue police car.”

 

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