“ Harlow?” Alejandro repeated.
“Sophia's friend,” Christian replied. “She's important.”
“Come on,” Alejandro pressed, “It's just a girl.”
“You don't understand,” Christian said, following Alejandro down the hallway.
“Yes I do,” Alejandro replied, “All too well.” He opened the door and found the hospital bed empty, “Where is she?” he asked accusingly, with fear in his voice.
Christian pushed past him, looking around the room in bewilderment. The bed covers had been thrown aside, trailing on the cold mint-coloured floor as if Sophia had been dragged out. Christian shouted for the nurse.
The nurse rushed over. She was as surprised as they were. “I don't know. She hasn't been discharged.”
Christian and Alejandro left the hospital, running, heading for the car park, breaking out into the weak winter sunshine. The sky was a cold frosty blue as Alejandro slid into the old green car.
Alejandro was always like this, calm, unruffled, quick to judge a situation, and irritatingly honest. They found Sophia's house vacant, drawers full of clothes untouched, the lights off. Servants, personal assistants, all the entourage gone, as if Sophia had never been there but it felt like the house was still waiting for her return. Christian watched as his cousin used his mysterious lock-picking skills to enter the house, then, finding Sophia gone, he watched Alejandro's passive face and knew somehow that inside his heart was sinking.
“Where would she go?” Alejandro muttered to himself as he paced across Sophia's luxuriously decorated bedroom, then sank down onto the bed. His forehead furrowed; the dark shadows of fear, suspicion, and longing flitting across his face. “I have no idea where she is,” Alejandro admitted, finally, defeated, “maybe her friends will know.” He looked at Christian hopefully, then continued, “She could be out of the country by now,” he said sorrowfully.
“So let her go,” Christian insisted.
Alejandro fell back onto the bed, muttering, “I can't.” His fall onto the pillows released a cloud of her perfume and for a moment he seemed transfixed, his eyes blank, considering some precious moment of time that his cousin could not see, a memory as vivid and real to him as the present. The pillow that had been dislodged from its usual spot revealed the glint of an intricate silver bracelet that lay like sunken treasure, waiting underneath, unearthed by chance. Alejandro turned his head, nestling his cheek on the white silk pillow. Christian eyed him with disbelief, his role model, the brave little boy who had become a man. Someone he had known his whole life seemed to have become a completely different person in the space of only a few months.
“You've really changed, man,” Christian said.
Alejandro grunted, getting back up.
“Hey, what's that?” Christian asked.
“What?” Alejandro asked, turning around anxiously.
As Christian came over, Alex saw the bracelet, so familiar to him, and lifted it gently, sliding it out, from beneath the pillow. He twirled it around, examining it. “Her mother gave it to her,” he explained.
There was a click as though a door was unlocking and Alejandro became silent. His ears pricked up. Christian moved toward the door cautiously, treading silently. A floorboard squeaked underneath his heavy feet and he froze in fear. Alejandro looked straight ahead, still moving out of Sophia's room. The sound of rapid heavy footsteps bombarded the stairs. “Hey,” an angry voice shouted as Alex and Christian rushed out of the room ready for a fight.
Roberto stopped when he saw them. “What the hell?” he said, his face red with anger. “I should have known you were involved,” he looked accusingly at Alejandro. “She's not coming back, so don't bother waiting.” At his look of surprise, Roberto smirked, “Oh, you didn't know. After what you guys did to my sister, are you surprised that she wants nothing to do with you?”
Alejandro's brow furrowed, “I think you've misunderstood the situation.”
“He's an idiot. That's the problem,” Christian said under his breath. “Where's Sophia?” he demanded, shocked by his cousin's diffidence. “We can help her.”
“I bet you can,” Roberto said disbelievingly. “She told me about the money,” he said matter of factly. “I bet that's why you want to help so badly. Well, save your breath. She's gone. It's not here. Go home.”
Alejandro grabbed Roberto's collar and shoved him against the wall, holding him by the scruff of the neck. “Tell me where she is,” he demanded viciously.
Roberto laughed maniacally, betraying all of his fear and hatred of the two cousins. No matter how Alejandro shook him he wouldn't stop laughing.
There was something unique about Alejandro. He had a gentle touch; he could charm you without you noticing. “Come on, we are brothers,” Alex said, loosening his grip on Roberto.
“The hell we are,” Roberto spat back angrily.
“We want the same things, you just don't realise it. I've been on Sophia's side all along.”
“Right,” Roberto muttered, pushing past him. “Get out,” he shouted. Christian moved reluctantly forward, his back leg waiting for Alejandro to follow. To his and Roberto's surprise, Alejandro rushed past Christian, running to the door as if it were his only salvation.
Outside, in the chilling spring air, Alejandro's face was tense with a dangerous cocktail of anger, embarrassment, and frustration.
“What's gotten into you?” Christian asked.
“This isn't a game,” Alex repeated sharply, “that guy aggravates me. Sophia's life is at stake. His sister is in real danger and he's swanning about like ... Aaargh!” He growled in frustration as they reached the car and kicked the back tyre. Alex got in and slammed the driver's door shut, gunning the engine. The car was way down the road before Christian had even reached for his seatbelt. They rounded the corner. Alex brought the car to an abrupt stop and parked the car. “Wait here,” Alex barked, getting out and heading back the way they'd come.
“What are you doing?” Christian protested, watching him walk away.
They followed Roberto's car until it reached Victoria station. Alejandro drove in silence as if he were contemplating a matter of grave importance, like the inevitable destruction of the world.
In the crowded station, Alejandro followed Roberto at a distance, watching him weave in and out of the crowd of commuters, worrying when he lost sight of his wavy black hair. He expected at any moment to see Sophia waiting at the platform, to hold her, to apologise for all the lies, but that moment never came. Instead, Alejandro dodged angry travellers, tripped over a suitcase, jostled past a group of tourists, and exhausted his large supply of patience when he found Roberto sitting in a deserted restaurant on the second floor of the station reading a menu, like he was going to lunch with the Queen. Alejandro hid in the café adjacent, watching Roberto through the plate glass windows, and felt his pulse quicken when he saw a woman walk up to Roberto. Alejandro almost rose from his seat but remained still, trying to get a closer look at her. It was an older woman—large, petite, with greying hair. He sat back down. Again he felt the urge to go over and shake Roberto until he got an answer, then he remembered Sophia's kind eyes and imagined her dismay at what he'd done. The old woman handed Roberto a duffel bag and he secreted it under his chair, looking around uneasily. She handed him an envelope and then left anxiously, as if someone were watching her. He ripped the envelope open and sat for some time, studying a piece of A5 paper. He pushed the paper back into the envelope, then crumpled them both up into a ball, making his hand into a fist, but rather than drop it, he shoved the paper ball into his jeans pocket. Alejandro watched him walk away, suddenly remembering that he'd left Christian in the car. He raked a nervous hand through his hair.
In some ways, it was the worst kind of day. Alejandro had gone from hope, in the hospital, to love, in her room, plagued by the remembered touch of her lips. Now he felt the icy lick of despair. He despaired because he knew something bad would happen and this time he wouldn't be there to preven
t it.
I can't find her, he thought, talking to God, pleading, walking morosely back to the car where he'd left his cousin.
“How long shall we wait for her?” Christian asked. Alejandro looked around helplessly. The hotel suite was empty. “I don't think she'll come back,” Christian continued, “maybe she doesn't want to be found.”
“Don't be silly,” Alejandro said wandering around the hotel room looking for clues. “She's just checked out. She'll probably come back.”
“Oh, ok,” Christian said dumbfounded by his cousin's blind optimism. “Look, we have to go. If anyone sees us here, Jose will be in trouble. He's not supposed to give out keys to the rooms.”
“Just a minute,” Alejandro insisted, irritably disappearing down the hallway into the bedroom.
“I thought maybe she would leave me something, a clue, a way to find her,” he pronounced sadly on his return. “I don't understand,” he complained.
Christian coolly explained, “She thinks you're in a coma in Colombia. Why would she leave a clue? What possible help could you be?”
Alejandro ran a hand through his curly hair in exasperation, “Why did you tell her that?”
“Her father told her.”
Alejandro froze, “That's how they found her,” he said thinking of Sophia's father, the “businessman,” the Mafia accountant. The money from the sale of illicit goods was funnelled through him and his bookshop, one of many fronts. He made dirty money clean.
Christian shrugged, “I thought you were. Last I heard, you were comatose in Bolivar Hospital.”
Alejandro sighed, taking a seat on the antique-style pink sofa. “Too much misinformation,” he said. “It's as if fate wants us to be defeated,” he muttered angrily.
“Why go to all this trouble? You almost died for this girl. No one can ask anymore of you. You've done enough.”
“You don't understand. It's not enough until she's safe.”
“Why, but you don't even love her. Do you? Why is she so important?” Christian asked.
Alejandro looked up, “Why do you keep asking that?”
“I want to know, just out of interest,” Christian said.
“You're too interested then,” Alejandro complained rising from the chair. “Remember, we're family,” he warned. “Anyway, you don't know what love is.” He passed Christian looking uncharacteristically grim as he headed out the door. “If you did, you wouldn't ask me all these questions.”
Christian walked back slowly to Sophia's bedroom suite. He looked around and then picked up a creased paper from inside the otherwise empty waste paper basket. Glancing at the words, he stopped in his tracks then raced out of the room, all his thoughts and concerns about Sophia erased, wiped clean. “She's at Heathrow,” he blurted to Alex before he'd even shut the door.
“How do you know?” he asked desperately. “Where's she going?” Christian joined him in the hallway, showing him the hurriedly scrawled note.
They ran out of the hotel.
Alex started the car, Christian snapped his seatbelt shut as they sped down the road. “That girl,” he said to Alex incoherently. “She thinks she can take on the whole world.”
Alex looked at him distractedly, then turned back to the road. “What?” he asked in Spanish.
“She's gone to meet Victor,” Christian said slowly, “to give the money back.”
“That's not going to solve anything,” Alex shouted in frustration. “He'll kill her.”
“How?” Christian mumbled. “Think about it, Heathrow is the safest place in London, armed police constantly patrolling the airport.”
“You don't know Victor,” Alex said morosely, as if Christian were a fool. “He'll kill her friend, too.”
Alex saw Sophia. She was a few feet away, leaning on the check in desk. Under the harsh glare of the bright white airport lighting, she remained the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He joined her at the desk, making the check-in lady look up in surprise. Sophia gasped in shock, hugging him tightly, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her head on his shoulder, then pulled back to look at him, covering his face in kisses. The check-in assistant smiled politely, then handed Sophia's passport and boarding pass back as her luggage rolled away toward the baggage hold. Alejandro grabbed Sophia's luggage and then her arm, leading her away. “What's gotten into you?” he asked as she pulled back her arm. Sophia leaned back to take in his face. He stopped walking. She kissed him and he gave into the pleasure of her lips. Sophia ran her fingers along the nape of his neck until she reached the bottom of his hairline, where his soft wavy brown hair began, in that familiar way that he had longed for. He pulled her in closer. A man behind them cleared his throat and Alex disentangled himself from Sophia's charming touch.
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm gently. She took her passport and headed away from the check-in queue.
“What happened?” she asked intensely as they walked, Alex rushed past the airport lounge and hurried to catch up, saying, “They told me you were in a coma, that you died and now you're here. How is it possible?”
“It had to be that way,” he said simply. “When is Victor coming?” he asked nervously.
“11.00,” she said.
“Fifteen minutes,” he commented, “you shouldn't have done that. God,” Alex sighed, “he's probably already here.”
“No, it doesn't matter,” Sophia explained excitedly. “I've got it all worked out.”
“You have?” he asked suspiciously. “I bet Victor has to.”
“What can he do?” Sophia asked as they passed the ladies bathroom. The suitcase had begun to weigh him down and he shifted it to his right hand. “I don't have the money on me,” she said, “so if he wants to get it back, he can't hurt me.”
“No,” Alex said, correcting her. “He can't kill you until you tell him where it is. This isn't about the money anymore,” he explained, “now you know too much.”
“I know nothing,” Sophia said as they passed the information desk on the way to the short-stay car park.
Alex shook his head, taking her hand, “Mi amor, you've seen his face. You know his name. You know the route the drugs take to leave Cartagena, how they get the money out of the airport, the people who buy it. You've seen everything on that laptop,” he said, indicating the laptop bag.
She froze. He'd made his point.
“He can't let you go,” Alex said simply, his expression dour.
“This is never going to stop,” Sophia complained, “I did nothing wrong! Why am I being punished like this?”
The automatic doors were only a few metres away. Two men entered from the short-stay car park entrance.
Alex casually took Sophia by the elbow and turned her away from the doors, saying, “Where were you going to meet him?”
“The departure lounge in the sunglass shop,” she replied. “It's just me and him.”
Alex cast his paranoid gaze around the airport. “He never comes alone. Okay, this is what we're going to do.” Sophia slowed down. “You're going to leave now. Tell me where the money is and I'll meet him.”
She almost stopped walking, slowed down by disappointment. “No, I can't,” she explained, “I have to make sure Harlow is okay. He said if I tell him where the money is, he'll let her go. If I leave now, he'll kill her.”
“True,” Alejandro said thoughtfully. “Aye, dios mío.”
He could see the sunglass shop in the distance and veered away from there.
“It's now or never,” Sophia whispered. “I can't live like this.”
“I know,” he said sadly. “We'll figure this out together, okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
“Sophia, if Victor gets you, you're not coming back. There's another way to solve this, but it can't be done now. You have to trust me. Do you trust me?”
She nodded and he led her down the escalator to the Heathrow underground train station.
“As long as you have the money, there's a good chance that he'll k
eep your friend alive, if she's not dead already,” he said.
“She's not, he showed me.”
They jumped on the first train that came. Alejandro placed the suitcase in the aisle next to the doors, a short distance from where they stood, after two stops he turned and held her face kissing her gently, “I love you.”
Sophia smiled.
As the doors closed, the announcer said, “This is Terminal 1.” Alejandro dropped his phone. She looked down distractedly, reaching to get it, then he snatched the laptop bag, put a hand between the doors, shoved them open, and jumped onto the platform hastily. The doors slammed shut behind him.
“Hey,” she screamed banging on the doors. He watched as the train carried Sophia's furious face away. According to his watch, it was one minute to 11 a.m. He raced back to the westbound platform. The train doors beeped as he jumped on almost trapping him.
Alejandro passed through security with ease using his own boarding pass. He threw Sophia's away and headed through the departure lounge at full speed, going toward the sunglass section of duty free with the laptop bag in hand. Victor's face was one he would never forget, the smooth skin that ended abruptly in a raised scar above his left temple. The cruel twist of his lips and the quick perceptive eyes that made you think he could see every move you made. That face was mysteriously absent from the shoppers in the sunglass shop. Alex looked at his watch coolly. Victor would never come alone, he thought. He searched for a face that stood out from the crowd but found none. Alex toured the sunglass shop, ignoring the large selection of sunglasses. Without any warning, a large hand fell on his shoulder and he turned slowly, expecting to see the piercing, cold, brown eyes.
“You have the money?” Andre asked. It was more a command than a question.
“Where's Victor?” Alejandro asked, dodging the question.
“None of your business. The boss doesn't like to have his time wasted. Now, you give me the money and this will all be over.”
Alex remained grim-faced, “I'm not giving the money to anyone but Victor. Do you think I'm a fool? You think I'd let you leave with millions of Euros? No, I'll give it to him directly.”
It Never Rains in Colombia Page 16