“I’m going to get dressed.”
“You’re not going to phone him?”
“Hell, no.” Calli laughed dryly. “I’m going to stay as far away from Nick as geography lets me. I think you’re right. I need to leave Vistaria as soon as I can.”
“I’ll let Dad know. You’re going to have to sneak into the airport.” Minnie left, shutting the door behind her.
Calli threw on jeans and a tee-shirt, the same clothing she had worn when she landed here. It seemed fitting she would leave that way. She had already packed, thanks to Joshua’s insistence, and the two small packs sat next to her bed.
“Calli! Get down here!” Joshua yelled at the top of his lungs.
Calli flew down the three steps to the living room proper and hurried over to where he stood in front of the television, another copy of the newspaper in his fist. He turned up the volume.
Minnie sat on the sofa behind him, chewing her lip.
The screen showed the circular iron fencing around the legislative building, the big fountain in the foreground and just off to one side. The cameraman had to be standing with one foot in the water, because the camera was elevated over the back of the heads of the crowd of people standing before the closed gates. They were shouting, waving newspapers, chanting, brandishing their fists. There was screaming and people were shaking the ironwork on the gates.
Behind the barrier, five soldiers stood with their machine guns slung over their shoulders and held down by their sides—non-threatening, but there to be used if needed. Their faces were inscrutable. They wore hard helmets and jungle fatigues.
The voice-over narration was fast and breathy—almost panicked.
“This is serious,” Minnie said as Calli sat on the sofa next to her.
“What are they saying, Josh?” Calli asked.
“No military action has taken place yet, but it’s making the crowds more frantic. The size of the crowd is growing. There are more people coming onto the avenue all the time.”
The picture changed, showing a view taken from a vehicle moving along the Avenue of Nations. The many people there jostled each other off the pavements onto the road itself. They looked angry.
“They’re talking about you,” Joshua said softly and cocked his head to listen more carefully. “And Americans in general.”
Abruptly, he turned the television off.
“What?” Minnie said.
Joshua sat on the other sofa next to his wife and took her hand. “This is the government station but they’re asking the same damn fool questions as the crappy newspaper. Why are Americans influencing the government? Why is it allowed to happen?”
Calli hugged her knees to her chest. “Nick isn’t the government,” she said softly, hopelessly.
“And you’re just an excuse,” Joshua shot back. “A damned good one as it happens, but that’s all they ever needed, Calli. One lousy excuse.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Well, they have that now.”
She hid her face against her knees. “I have to leave the country.”
“Good idea but with civil disturbances, the first things that get shut down are the transport systems. They won’t let you out.” Joshua smiled grimly. “You have to stay and face the music, my girl.”
“I wasn’t running away for my sake,” she said swiftly.
“I know that, but they won’t see it that way.”
“Who won’t?”
“The rebels. The people. Vistarians. If this rioting keeps up then the rebels will have a ready-made army at their disposal. It will take very little to turn these angry, roused civilian Vistarians to the rebels’ cause now.” He shook his finger at her. “So you are going to stay put on that sofa and not make a squeak and we’ll hold our breath and hope this passes too.” He grimaced. “Let’s hope we don’t wake up to worse news tomorrow.”
Calli shuddered. “It could hardly get any worse.”
Chapter Fifteen
At eight o’clock that night, the news did turn worse. The television station, which had been broadcasting re-runs all day, broke into an X-Files episode and cut to a studio, where an anchorman began speaking swiftly, holding a sheet of notes in his hand. The paper visibly trembled.
“Jesus Maria,” Calli breathed. The Spanish was too fast for her to pick up more than the odd word.
Minnie sucked in a quick breath. “Pascuallita! They’re talking about Pascuallita.”
Calli bounced off the sofa and ran to knock on Joshua’s door.
He came out, wrapping a gown around him, barefoot and wild of hair and went straight to the television and sat on the sofa.
Minnie had her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. She looked at her father, stricken.
He began to nod. “Fighting in the mountains. Just south of Pascuallita. Many rebels. Some deaths. The army is there.” He looked at Calli. “This is it,” he added softly. “The army has engaged the rebels in combat. This is the birth of a revolution.”
Minnie gave a choked sound. Tears streamed down her face.
Joshua patted her knee. “I’m sure he’ll be okay, your captain,” he said awkwardly. Then he groped for the remote control. “Wait. They just said something.”
He changed the channel to the local commercial station. Surprisingly, it was on the air. A woman sat behind a panel, speaking into the camera and even without a translator, Calli had no trouble interpreting the intent of her message. She radiated fierce joy—fervor, even. “That’s why the station went off the air until now,” she said. “They’ve sold out to the rebels.”
Joshua nodded. “Yes, it would seem so. We’ll get nothing but propaganda from them.” He listened for a moment. “They’ve coordinated their announcement with the rebel action. She is claiming a grand victory for the rebels in Pascuallita. They’ve taken over the town, she says, and will march towards the capital, drawing true Vistarians to their ranks as they go.” He grimaced and changed channels. “It reminds me far too much of the Communist crap I had to listen to in Vietnam.”
Calli sat on the arm of the sofa and rubbed Minnie’s shoulder. Minnie sat very still, big tears rolling down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away.
“They’ve taken Pascuallita,” she whispered.
Joshua looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowing. “It’s bullshit, honey. Pure bullshit. The TV station doesn’t have any more idea about what’s happening up there than the government station and the government station certainly isn’t saying the army took a beating.”
He listened for a while to the government channel and his face grew grave. Finally, he shut the TV off with a snap and threw the remote onto the coffee table. “Ah, truth is always in short supply in wartime anyway.” He got to his feet. “We can’t do anything tonight. Tomorrow, we have to figure out a way to leave the country. We`ll steal a boat, if we have to. It’s only a few hours to Acapulco from here.” He ruffled his hair again. “Get some sleep,” he advised.
When his bedroom door had shut, Minnie reached for the remote and turned the TV back on again. Calli sat beside her and stared at the television, wishing she could understand Spanish better.
For most of the night they stayed on the sofa, Minnie picking out as much of the Spanish as she could and Calli trying hard to pick up words. Names. Gradually, after much repetition, the events began to take shape in her mind.
The attack on the silver mine had been a ruse. A way to scare the Americans and force the government’s strongest ally to take cover. It also had been a means of drawing army personnel to the south of the main island, away from Pascuallita, where the first main attack had always been planned to take place.
The attack, when it came, appeared to have been somewhat hasty. The announcers and the experts they interviewed speculated that the rebels had not anticipated the riots in the city, but had taken advantage of the government’s distraction. Their attack had been, so far, merciless and strong. The army had scurried to meet the challenge, moving through the mountains with less speed and
agility than the rebels who had trained and lived there for months.
“They are taking a beating,” Minnie whispered.
Calli fell into a light doze somewhere in the small hours of the morning, unable to concentrate any more on the endless run of Spanish, when her heart was so heavy and she was so afraid of what the day ahead might bring. She jerked awake when a hand tapped her shoulder. She sat up from her sprawl across the arm of the sofa and blinked up at Joshua. Through the window behind him she saw the lightening sky. The day approached.
“Where’s Minnie?” he asked.
She looked around. The sofa was empty.
“Her bed hasn’t been slept in,” Joshua said.
A chilled clamped Calli’s chest. Wordlessly she hurried into Minnie’s bedroom and looked for the pack of essentials Minnie had prepared. It was gone.
“What are you looking for?” Joshua asked, from the door.
“Her pack has gone. So have her hiking boots.” A flat black Vistarian hat sat on the bed. Minnie had brought it back from Pascuallita.
“Pascuallita,” Calli said and turned to Joshua. “I think she’s gone to Pascuallita.”
He opened his mouth in shock. Then; “The car!” he said and whirled away.
Calli followed him out to the front door of the apartment where he stood looking at the empty spread of cement where the little car normally sat.
“Why?” he asked, at last.
“Duardo’s there.”
“Yes, but why now? Why not last night when the rebellion started? Why not yesterday? What made her do it now?”
Calli went back to the television and sat down. “Something must have happened,” she said softly as Joshua sat next to her.
She didn’t try to translate for herself—she knew she was too tired to manage it. The last time she had looked at the clock before she had fallen asleep it had been about three-thirty in the morning. Now the clock said four-forty, so she had dozed for less than an hour. Whatever had pushed Minnie out the door would still be fresh, and would still be news.
“Oh, hell,” Joshua said. “Pascuallita has fallen.”
“So fast?”
“The rebels are fresh. This was planned and Pascuallita was not prepared.
The town and the base were not braced for it.” He grimaced. “Now the rebels have a stronghold they can operate from. Of course, that would have been their plan from the beginning.” He dropped his head into his hands like a man broken. “Minnie is driving straight into their headquarters.”
Calli stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I have to stop her somehow. Head her off.”
“How?” Joshua said, but the tiniest thread of hope colored his voice.
She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t tell Joshua the idea that had struck her.
“You can’t go to Nicolás Escobedo,” Joshua said. “I hope you’re not thinking of it.”
“He knows Duardo’s family. He knows the area. No one else I know has that advantage.”
“You’re an American. Worse. You’re that American woman, Calli. They’ll tear you to pieces out there.” But the hope flared stronger in his voice. He wanted her to convince him she could do this.
Calli rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not quite dawn yet. The streets will be quiet. I just have to make it to the legislative building. That will be enough, I think.”
“What if Escobedo is not in the city?”
“I don’t know, Uncle Josh! All I can do is try, right? Hell, maybe I’ll steal a car instead of a boat and drive up there myself.”
“No, you mustn’t do that!” he said quickly, which was the reaction she had anticipated.
“So I’ll try the legislative building instead,” she said, knowing it would sound like the more reasonable alternative of the two.
Josh dropped his head back into his hands. “Okay. Okay,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Calli patted his shoulder again and went and changed. Black trousers, which would meld into what remained of the night, a white tee-shirt and a waist-length dark green windbreaker. Then she braided her hair tightly, dropped the end of the braid inside the jacket and put on the flat black hat that had been sitting on Minnie’s bed. She suspected it was Duardo’s, perhaps a gift to her, because it was much too large even for Calli’s head. Her thick braid kept it firmly on her head and low over her eyes.
Josh’s brows rose when she emerged from the bedroom carrying her backpack.
“From a distance they may take me for a Vistarian. At least I won’t be identified as that American woman straight away, and that will be all the time I need, I think.” She glanced out the window. “It’s getting lighter. I must go.”
He stood up. “If I were thirty years younger....”
“But you’re not. Don’t flay yourself with guilt, Uncle Josh. Minnie will be okay. I said I’d watch out for her, didn’t I? You must take care of Beryl.”
“I won’t try to leave today. We’ll stay here, so you’ve got somewhere to head back to when you find her.”
“All right.” Calli hesitated, then added, “If we don’t arrive back here by tomorrow, you should go. We’ll find our own way over to Mexico.”
He hugged her tightly. “You’ve surprised me a number of times since you arrived here, Calli, but never more so than just now. You’ve got more strength in you than I have and for that I’m grateful.”
“Let’s hope it’s enough,” she said with a smile and patted his cheek. “Because right now, I’m terrified.”
“Running helps,” he said, without a glimmer of a smile. He nodded towards the door. “Go.”
Calli left, shutting the door quietly so that no one would be wakened. She ducked in between the walls into the little alleyway of stairs—a short cut for pedestrians. The stairs plunged straight down the hill rather than following the painful hair-pin bends of the road. Her heart raced and her legs trembled—she was very afraid of what she must do now. After a couple of minutes of climbing down the steps, the trembling in her legs disappeared as the muscles warmed up, but her heart continued to flutter unhappily.
When she reached the flatter street at the bottom of the hill she looked to the left, north, where the heart of the city and the main street that connected with the Avenue of Nations lay. The street was deserted, dusty.
Running helps, Joshua had said.
She broke into a slow jog, heading for the city, her backpack bouncing against her back, the fresh morning air bathing her face. After a few minutes she realized her uncle was right. Her fear had evaporated and the unsteady beat of her heart had settled into a steady, strong rhythm in response to her body’s need for oxygen.
The jogging ate up the distance quickly. Soon she had reached the densely populated inner city core. Many more people had appeared, gathering in small groups, whispering together. She dropped down to a swift walk, not willing to draw attention to herself. Ahead she could see the big main square, the same square she had been watching those long hours when she had been held in the cell. Now she knew the square was the center of the city and the Avenue of Nations ran off the square, heading west towards the mountains.
She turned into the wide avenue and hurried along the sidewalk, keeping a watchful eye on the people around her and trying to gaze ahead towards the fountain to see how many lingered there, but she could not see it yet.
There were more people on the avenue, but still they did not seem to be very threatening. Perhaps the outbreak of rebellion in the north had stolen the rioters’ thunder and they had given up. The small hope buoyed her somewhat as she climbed the short slope to the top of the avenue and saw for the first time the fountain there. If any rioters remained, they would surely be in front of the gates.
There were people sleeping there. That was her first surprise.
They lay on the concrete about the base of the fountain, their belongings beside them. They were homeless, perhaps refugees from Pascuallita or the new littl
e township that had sprung up around the Garrido mine. The government had not had time to organize refugee camps yet.
It occurred to her with a start that these people were as scared about the outbreak of war in the north as she and Minnie had been, sitting on the sofa together last night, whispering their speculations to each other.
They hadn’t spilled out onto the road, yet, so Calli stepped out onto the tarmac, heading straight for the gate. She wondered if she would draw attention to herself by doing so, but there was no other way to reach the gates without stepping over bodies and pushing through groups, and she would most certainly be recognized if she did that.
The road ran straight to the entrance. Calli moved around a couple of groups there, up to the closed gates and gripped the iron bars with a small sense of relief. Soldiers still stood at parade rest behind the gates. There were five guards, each with machine guns still hanging at their sides. She peered at all of them through the ironwork, hoping she might recognize one of them, but they were all strangers.
She recalled the phrases she had been rehearsing and called to them, her voice low.
“Oye, los Soldados! Cualquiera de usted sabe a Capitán Peña Y Santos?”
Not a flicker of reaction. Well, they had no idea who she was, after all. They’d want convincing that she knew Duardo, too. So she dredged up more shaky Spanish. “El está basado en Pascuallita. Sabe usted Duardo Peña Y Santos?”
This time one of the soldiers looked at her, although he didn’t move his head to do so. His gaze slid sideways, but he gave no other indication that he had heard her.
Encouraged, she moved further along the gate to stand directly in front of him.
“Debo hablar a su capitán. Por favor dejame entrar,” she pleaded.
She heard a babble of Spanish behind her—close behind—and she carefully turned her head to look over her shoulder, hiding as much of her features with her shoulder as she could. A couple of men, unshaved, dirty, bleary-eyed, watched her.
She turned back to the fence, shook it a little and nodded her head towards the men behind her, hoping the soldier had seen them, too.
Red Leopard (The Vistaria Affair Series) Page 21