“You must return to the city, you and Minnie, and you must wait for your Uncle to return from the mine. The army has standing orders to evacuate any foreign nationals, especially any Americans, as a first priority if violence breaks out. They will get him and his people out and back to the city. You must stay with him until we know if this is the beginning of a sustained attack or if it’s simply a skirmish.”
“Do you think it’s just a skirmish?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “The timing, the location, goes against all good strategic thinking, so there’s hope this is a single moment we are dealing with. But until we know for certain I want you in the city and safe.”
“Is the city safe?”
“Safer than Pascuallita.” He picked up the cell phone again, paused to think, then punched in a number. The conversation, all in Spanish, seemed to be with two people for after a short time he paused, then his manner became more abrupt and brusque. He closed the phone with a snap and thrust it into the jacket. He put the jacket on.
“Pack your things, Calli. Quickly. We must leave at once.”
Chapter Fourteen
Calli had heard that Pascuallita was four hours away from the city by road. Duardo managed the trip in three hours and fifteen minutes—a jolting, panic-inducing race that wiped any lingering emotions Calli may have held from leaving Nick.
Nick had driven her to Pascuallita and on the northern edges of the town, Duardo and Minnie stood waiting, Minnie’s bags at their feet. The phone call Nick had made just before they’d left his house had been to Duardo, she realized, setting up this meeting.
Duardo wore civilian clothes still, but he had his jacket folded up and tucked under his arm. From the way he carried it, Calli knew he had a gun inside the folds.
Without word or greeting, he threw Minnie’s bags into the back of the jeep with Calli’s. He hoisted Minnie up into the back, too, and Nick showed Calli how to unfold the two small jump seats there. She climbed into the back with Minnie, while Duardo settled behind the wheel of the jeep and Nick moved over to the passenger seat. Their unspoken coordination made it look like they were reading each other’s minds.
The sensation was eerie. Calli knew she watched two men well-trained in military arts going about their grim business. Because they were so well grounded in their work, no communication was needed.
Duardo pushed the jeep into gear and took off, wheels spinning. Calli grabbed at the rails surrounding the back of the jeep. Minnie gripped her other hand and held on as the jeep roared and rocketed downhill towards the coast. They turned onto sealed road after ten minutes, and ten minutes after that Calli saw the striped boom gates that marked the entrance to the army base. Duardo’s base.
Duardo pulled up right next to the boom gates, the red and white timber almost brushing Nick’s shirt sleeve. There came a shout from the gate house and a soldier wearing fatigues and a machine gun slung over his shoulder ran over to lean on the boom gate and lift it up.
Nick got out of the jeep and moved up to Calli’s side.
“Minnie, come to the front,” Duardo said.
Nick glanced around, checking for observers. With an acute disappointment, she realized that there would be no kiss goodbye, no soft words that would linger and give her comfort later.
“Go,” she said. “There’s no need to say anything.”
His hand, hidden by his body, rested over hers on the edge of the jeep. “I would have it otherwise. I would have asked for more time.”
She took a breath and swallowed, pushing back the childish wail building in her. “Really?” she breathed.
His eyes locked onto hers, holding her gaze. “Really,” he said softly.
“Señor,” Duardo said quietly. A warning.
Nick dropped his hand from hers. “Duardo is a very good driver and he knows the road to the city well. He will get you back to the city. Stay there. If the fighting continues, then you must leave the country as soon as you can. Promise me you will do this, if it comes.”
“I promise.”
He nodded and turned away. The soldier with the machine gun escorted him down the access road. Another jeep, this one painted in camouflage greens, waited with two soldiers in the front. The little back door hung open and waiting for Nick. The engine ticked over.
He didn’t look back.
Calli took another deep, controlled breath to fill the corners of her lungs and clenched her jaw.
“Do up your seatbelt,” Duardo said quietly to Minnie, who buckled her belt immediately. Duardo turned his head towards Calli. “You must hold tight, yes?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears.
He nodded and dropped the jeep into gear and drove off, accelerating hard.
The wind whipped her hair into her eyes and gave a legitimate reason for the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
* * * * *
Duardo pulled up at the apartment as the sun slid low on the horizon and they climbed from the jeep stiffly. Everything sounded muffled, for the wind and the roar of the jeep engine had desensitized Calli’s hearing. Duardo had not been content to sit behind slower traffic for longer than necessary and at times had slipped between the vehicle he was overtaking and oncoming cars with only inches to spare. He was very familiar with the road and knew exactly how much he could risk.
Once, he braked hard and stayed behind a wagon pulled by a 50s vintage Oldsmobile, even though the road ahead seemed clear. He’d shaken his head. “Too much traffic. More than usual. The news has scared them.”
A few seconds later she saw why he had not tried to pass the wagon. The road turned into a very sharp left turn, moving further down the valley, even though the terrain continued to slope smoothly along the cliff side, deceiving the eye. As soon as they had made the turn, he dropped the jeep into a lower gear and passed the truck with a snarl of the engine.
That had been one of the few times he had spoken and the only time he had shared his thoughts.
Now he carried Minnie’s luggage into the apartment, pausing while Calli unlocked the door. Minnie stayed at the jeep. Inside, Beryl struggled to her feet from the sofa, her eyes widening when she saw Duardo. He merely nodded at her and went back to the jeep.
Calli followed him. “You’re going back to Pascuallita?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not fit yet,” Minnie said, but she said it in a way that told Calli she knew that her argument would not sway him.
He shrugged. “I will be needed, anyway.”
“I know.” She sighed.
He pulled Minnie to him, his hand in her hair and Calli looked away, moved and embarrassed by the tenderness on his face as he looked down at her. She walked away until she could no longer hear the words in their whispers. When the jeep engine started up again, she turned back.
Minnie stood with her arms wrapped around her, as if she were cold, watching as Duardo turned the jeep around. He waved and drove away and as he turned the bend down the road, he waved again.
Then he was gone.
Minnie dropped her head and Calli moved to put her arm around her shoulders, knowing she wanted comfort. But she did not cry and she didn’t seem sad. She looked at Calli with a crooked smile. “He’s off to be a soldier. That’s what Duardo is, and I love him for it.”
* * * * *
Three hours later, Joshua arrived home, dusty and wrinkled, but calm. He took a moment to assure Beryl he was unharmed, as she fluttered around him. “They got us off the island first. Then they went back to help the Vistarians,” he said. “Escobedo said no harm would come to Americans, but I never thought they would sacrifice their own countrymen in order to live up to that promise.”
“Sacrifice?” Beryl said sharply.
“Two died in the first attack,” he said. “Two more, later. They were civilians, working the trucks. Hell, I knew one of them.” He sighed.
Calli thought of Duardo, itching to get back to base, but detouring by more than six hours
to make sure he got her and Minnie home safely. Nick, who’s first thought and first action had been to arrange that safe return. “Vistarians are an honorable race. They have strength of character you don’t see very often these days.”
“No, by God,” Joshua agreed. He plucked at his sweaty shirt. “I need a shower, and then we must make plans and phone calls.”
* * * * *
For the next twenty-four hours they all remained in the apartment, with the television on the government station. The only other commercial Vistarian channel had abruptly gone off the air at midnight with no announcement or warning. The government channel faithfully reported the news as it developed, the anchorwoman speaking in subdued, sedate tones. Joshua, who’s Spanish was stronger than anyone’s, translated when asked but mostly he sat staring at the screen, his brow wrinkled, deep in thought.
They tried CNN, available on cable, but the States had not yet taken any notice of events in Vistaria and the major headlines focused on the President’s tour of a Detroit automobile factory. The Acapulco station merely mentioned that there had been a riot at the Garrido silver mine in Vistaria, but spent twice the air time reporting on Jose Escobedo’s daughter, Carmen, vacationing in Acapulco for the summer holidays, energetically celebrating her graduation from Yale law school with various American and Mexican celebrities who gravitated to the seaside resort every summer.
Joshua, when he was not watching the television, kept them busy.
“You have to pack three ways,” he explained. “Until we know if this is the start of a full out revolution, or just a fart in a bottle, we have to assume the worse. So you pack one small bag with every essential you can’t live without if you’re crossing national borders—passport and other ID, money, Tampax.”
“Dad!” Minnie gasped, genuinely shocked.
He shook his finger at her. “I mean it, Minerva. When you’re on the run, you won’t be able to stop at the nearest 7-11 for that sort of stuff if you need it. So take it with you. But pack as lightly as you can because you’re going to be carrying it with you all the way. The second packing is a second pack or a suitcase that you can carry with less essential stuff. Clothes, toiletries, anything that you could live without if you and the suitcase part ways.”
“And the third pack?” Calli asked.
“Everything else,” he said simply. “Suitcases, boxes and crates, ready to ship. It may never leave Vistaria, but we should be ready if the opportunity occurs.”
* * * * *
On the second night they went to bed early, all of them tired from packing and worrying. Calli hoped she would sleep well. She had a feeling that sleep would be in short supply for a while.
The fighting at the silver mine had ceased at sunset and the rebels had receded back into the forest and disappeared. The army had combed the island and established that the raid had been launched from boats in the channel and the rebels had made their escape that way, too. They had gone back to their mountain hideouts.
That evening the government station had shown footage of the president visiting the silver mine and the families of the victims of the raid. Jose Escobedo had reassured Vistarians repeatedly that the raid could not possibly presage further violence, because the rebels had achieved their apparent aim—the mine was shut down. In addition, the Americans had fled the main island and now considered leaving the country. Joshua had translated the rest with a sour look. The loss of American know-how would mean the end of the mine and the doom of Vistaria’s prosperity for the near future. When Vistarians felt the pinch of a tight economy once more they would do well to remember this sad day....
“Politicians,” he said, making it sound like a curse. “Even Escobedo cannot resist scoring points from this thing.”
But Calli’s attention was skewered by the grainy outside-broadcast images on the screen. Nicolás Escobedo had also been on the island and walked amongst the small crowd of people that followed the president about the island. She watched as the camera panned past him, as he turned to speak to someone by his shoulder.
Her heart stirred, almost painfully. She forced herself to look away from the television. Minnie watched her but said nothing.
Joshua turned the television off after that. “I think it might be all right,” he declared, rubbing his hand through his hair, scrubbing at it. “I think it was a one-off thing, like the president said. Nothing else has happened for over twenty-four hours. We might be okay.”
“You mean I packed for no reason?” Minnie protested.
“No. Leave everything packed. From now on, we operate under yellow alert. You girls grew up watching Star Trek so you know what I mean. Assume the worst, prepare for the worst, but don’t fire the guns off just yet. Speaking of which...do either of you have pistols at all?”
“Oh my,” Beryl murmured.
“I hadn’t thought about that sort of stuff,” Minnie said slowly. “I know Duardo had one, but....”
Calli shook her head. “No. Neither of us have guns,” she told Joshua.
“Good. Now listen hard. Do not even think about acquiring arms. Of any sort. Not even for self-protection. This is not the States and I’m damn sure that the rebels are not kitted out with uniforms or even quasi-military clothes. It means that if you are found with a gun in your possession you instantly stop being a civilian and become a rebel. Calli, you’ve been in prison, so you know that justice here isn’t like you’d get back home. Do you think they’re going to throw you in jail and give you a trial if you’re found with guns on you?”
Calli shivered. “You’ve made your point,” she said quietly.
“Good. Minnie, promise me.”
“I promise,” she said, subdued.
Not long after that they went to bed, their moods pensive. No one felt like talking or watching vapid entertainment. The Vistarian commercial station still broadcast static.
Calli climbed into bed and hugged herself, wishing it were Nick’s arms around her. She wish he was there, whispering reassurances into her ear—that his deep voice would croon soothingly that everything would be all right, that of course the rebels would not try anything while he were there and he would protect her if they did....
But Nick was busy working to preserve his country and if he thought of her at all, it was probably with a small, reminiscing smile for a risky indulgence.
With a deep sigh she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, knowing sleep would come no easier to her than it had on other nights in Vistaria.
She was woken by frantic banging on her bedroom door and sat up, blinking away sleep. It was daylight.
“What is it?” she called.
“The door is locked! Calli!” Minnie’s voice.
Calli crawled out of bed and unlocked the door. Minnie pushed into the room waving a newspaper. “Calli...ohmigod, Calli.” She gripped Calli’s wrist and shook it, waving the paper at her. Her eyes were wide, her face pale.
“What?” Calli asked, her heart skittering. War? Assassination? Nick!
She grabbed the paper and held it out so she could look at the front page. It had to be a front page headline.
It was.
Calli sat down suddenly on the office chair that Joshua had never got around to moving out of the room, her knees draining of strength. She let the paper fall on her knees, staring at the headlines and the terrible picture beneath.
The headline was in fifty point font. Screaming.
The picture. Her gaze was pulled back to the picture. It was grainy—a telephoto lens at the least and the actual picture enlarged to enhance the details. The black and white didn’t help either. She had seen dozens of “candid” shots like this on the covers of cheap tabloids at supermarket checkouts.
She’d just never expected to see herself in one of them.
It was her and Nick at the pond, lying on the rock together. His hand rested on her breast and he was leaning over her, his features quite clear. Her hair, the long blonde hair, fanned out over the edge of the rock, smoothed o
ut by the water. Her leg, the one closest to the camera, was bent, hiding more than it revealed—a minor mercy, all in all.
Minnie crouched next to her. “Calli, my God, they’ll crucify Nick,” she whispered.
Calli swallowed hard. She couldn’t cry. She didn’t feel anything. The enormity of the disaster was too much to take in all at once. Any vestige of shame she might have felt at being plastered across a national newspaper buck naked was swept away by the weight of the consequences to come.
“Calli?” Minnie prompted.
She looked at the headline. ¡Escobedo ama Americanos más!
“Ama?” she asked Minnie.
“Um...love. Loves.”
“Escobedo loves Americans more,” Calli translated and sighed. “They’ve already crucified him.”
“Page two,” Minnie prompted.
Calli turned the page. Inside, they had another photo; a bad copy of her passport photo. Perhaps even a photocopy taken at the station that first night? But they had her name, Callida Munro, emblazoned below the photo in bold, perfectly clear Times Roman.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Minnie squeezed her wrist. “I think you need to leave Vistaria,” she said, very gently.
Calli shut the paper, to look at the front page again. The photo. She sighed.
“My geeky cousin Calli...the sultry seductress. Who’d have thought?”
“It’s not funny,” Calli said tiredly.
“No, not at all. In fact I could easily feel envious,” Minnie confessed. She pointed to the photo. “I look at that and see blazing passion, even love. The body language.” She shook her head. “I always knew Nicolás Escobedo wanted you very much. I just hadn’t realized...”
“What?”
“You match each other,” she said simply.
Calli folded up the newspaper and gave it to Minnie. “Thanks, but the rest of Vistaria is only going to see that their trusted president’s brother is out screwing American women, so how trustworthy are the Escobedos going to look to them now?” She got up.
“What are you going to do?”
Red Leopard (The Vistaria Affair Series) Page 20