subjected to that kind of filthy language and lewd behavior for you or anyone
else! Those men are the scum of the earth.”
“I am sorry, Marla, really I am. You just don’t know what I have been
through the last few weeks. It is totally beyond comprehension. I will try to
make it up to you one day, believe me, but for now, I have to know what you
told them about me.”
433
JAMES McCREATH
“I told them nothing about you. I said that the man was an old boyfriend
who was still in love with me. I told them that we had broken up a few months
ago, but now he had shown up out of nowhere to see if he could win me back
with two tickets to the World Cup championship game on Sunday. I even made
up some phony name to cover for you, Lonnie.” She was crying now, more out
of rage than self-pity.
“Do you think that they believed you, Marla? Is there any chance that
they might find out that you were lying to them? What about the key and the
piece of paper?”
“They didn’t find them. I stuffed them inside one of the ledgers that I
was working on as soon as I sat down. I was able to put them into my purse
before I left the branch. I have them here with me now. I don’t know if they
believed me. They made me leave the bank right after the interrogation. Señor
Rodrigues told me that they were going to review the surveillance videotape,
and if they found any irregularities in my story, that, that I would be fired!
Fired, Lonnie, goddamn it! I love my job, you know that. How could you ask
me to put my whole life on the line for you?”
The fugitive had to be careful, for this girl was one of only a handful of
people that he could count on now. He could not risk losing her friendship at
this critical point in time.
“Marla, I swear that one day, I will make amends for all the turmoil I
have caused you today, but as I told you, those people want me dead. They
are probably watching my home, so I can’t risk going there. I have no money
or credit cards, and no place to hide. Could you find it in your heart to let me
spend the night with you tonight?”
Her voice was cool, and the message not what he had expected from her.
“I’m leaving town in an hour for the weekend, Lonnie. I have a new man
in my life, an investment banker who wants me to marry him. He happens
to hate football and all the commotion that it has caused in the city, so he is
taking me to San Roque Lake near Córdoba. I will not miss the insanity that
has infested Buenos Aires one bit. I am sorry.”
Lonnie felt his heart sink with disappointment and unspent lust. He had
hoped that her tender charms and four secure walls would shelter him from the
gathering storm for a few days. There was no chance of that scenario taking
place now, but he had one last question and nothing to lose by asking it.
“Marla, I am up against a brick wall, and I can see the firing squad taking
aim at me. Could I, as a favor to an old friend and lover . . . could I stay in your
flat for a night or two? I promise you that I will leave on Sunday before you
arrive home, and you will never have to see me or talk to me again. I promise
you that on my father’s grave!”
434
RENALDO
It was Lonnie who was in tears now, and he felt that he would break down
totally if his lost love turned him down.
“Marla, I have no money, and there isn’t a vacant room or an empty bed
within two hundred miles of here. The football has seen to that. Marla, I beg
you. Do this one thing for me, and one day, I will be able to repay you beyond
your wildest dreams. You know me, Marla. You know my family and the assets
behind us. I have made some bad mistakes lately, but when everything is settle,
I will not forget you. On that I give you my solemn oath. My life is in your
hands!”
There was silence on the line for the longest time. Finally, “You bastard,
Lonnie. I don’t want your gratitude or your money. I just want to be left alone.
Two nights, that is all. If I arrive home Sunday and you are still here, the police
will evict you. I will make certain of that myself. One more thing. Do not come
to the bank again with the intention of talking to me, for I will ignore you or
turn you over to those two baboons. I don’t want you to try to contact me from
this moment on. I give you these two nights because of what we once shared,
Lonnie, but the slate is wiped clean as of Sunday. Forever! My key will be
under the doormat, and your security box key I will leave beside the telephone.
Understand me now, Lonnie. I will be gone by eight, so do not arrive until after
nine o’clock. I can’t afford a run-in or any questions from the man I am going
away with. Leave the key where you found it when you go. Good-bye, Lonnie.
I never want to hear from you again. Is that clear?”
The line went dead before he could utter his appreciation. Lonnie put
down the receiver and shuffled almost trance-like back to his bench. He tried
to look on the bright side of his dilemma, namely that if he could make it to
Marla’s flat, then he would be able buy a bit more time to work out his next
move. He looked forlornly into his naked wallet. The emptiness of the leather
billfold reaffirmed to the reluctant wanderer that time was about all that he
could afford in his present state.
The ‘Attractive Assassin’ had no alternative but to strike out for Señorita
Gallego’s sanctuary on foot. When they were lovers, he had spent several nights
in her lower level love-nest on Calle Viamonte. He knew it well, and he also
knew that it would take the better part of the three hours he had to kill to
make his way there.
He cursed the overstuffed club bag that was weighing him down and
making his progress even slower. The streets overflowed with tourists and
Porteños alike. The end of the working week always turned the streets of the
capital into a vast parking lot, but the scene that Lonnie was witnessing was
unlike any Friday rush hour he had ever experienced.
Carloads of Brazilians, Italians, Dutch, and especially Argentines blasted
their horns in a symphony of patriotic noise. Men and women protruded
435
JAMES McCREATH
through the automobile windows or sat atop their roofs, many with their faces
painted in their national colors, flags waving to and fro.
All of this made it very easy for Lonnie De Seta to remain in the background
of this strange ritual as he followed the route to Marla’s flat. As dusk fell, the
revelry grew in tempo and enthusiasm, fuelled by the large amount of liquor
that was being consumed at every jam-packed bar and cantina Lonnie passed. It
was close to ten o’clock by the time he finally stood in front of Marla Gallego’s
door. He was bone-tired, not having slept at all the night before during his boat
ride from Tigre. The key was exactly where she told him it would be, for which
he was greatly relieved. There had always been the possibility that she could
have changed her mind and decided to be done with Lonnie sooner than later.
Not leaving the key as promised woul
d have taken care of that.
He stood inside the entrance of the tiny two-room flat. Everything was
very much as he had remembered, although on several of his visits, he had been
well into his cups and wanted to get down to business directly. Lavender and
lace was the predominant theme, and he felt rather silly standing all alone in
the midst of Marla’s feminine world. It was, nevertheless, a safe world for the
time being, and for that, he was exultantly thankful.
The weekend guest checked the refrigerator and found it only minimally
stocked. He was not hungry at all, Oli’s morning feast having sated his hunger
pangs completely. The bar was the next object of his attention, and he found
that there were enough spirits to keep himself tipsy for the entire duration of
his stay, if he chose to do so.
It was obvious by the brands of liquor that the young lady kept in her
abode that she entertained her new gentleman friend on the premises, just as
she had entertained Lonnie. The investment banker must have been a Scotch
drinker, he observed, which proved that the two men had more in common
than just the horny little bank strumpet. He poured himself a hefty tumbler of
Johnny Walker Black Label, then collapsed on Marla’s soft double bed.
The Scotch had a soothing effect on the visitor as its warm glow spread
through his body with every sip. Within five minutes, he was up for a refill, but
this time, he brought the bottle back to the night table with him. He would
worry about his future plans in the morning, but right now, all he wanted
was to dull his senses enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. He conjured up
memories of the passion that he and Marla had expended on this very bed,
and he was saddened that he would never again taste the fruits of her bounty.
He wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to taste those fruits with
anyone. How his life had changed, and changed for the absolute worst.
“Fool!” was the last word he mumbled as sleep finally enveloped his
clouded mind.
436
RENALDO
He awoke after noon the next day, Saturday, June the twenty-fourth. The
Scotch had produced the desired effect, for he had slept like a dead man. His
head was clear, however, and he lay on his back for a considerable time trying
to analyze his options and formulate the next move.
Strangely, he kept visualizing his younger brother’s face. Despite the
terrorist’s tenuous situation, all he could focus on was Renaldo. Tomorrow,
the kid would be playing for his country in front of millions of spectators and
television viewers. The enormity of that one fact dwarfed all of Lonnie’s current
problems.
How he would love to be there! To lead the trilled roar that had been
customized to fit Renaldo’s name. To see him hold the championship trophy
aloft. That was his younger brother’s reality. His own was much bleaker.
There was no money left to purchase a ticket to the match, even from a
scalper. Unless he could steal one or rob a ticket holder at gunpoint, there was
no way in the world that he would be able to witness his sibling’s heroics in
person. The truth of this dilemma forced Lonnie’s thoughts to reluctantly drift
back to the Banco Rio de la Plata.
He could not attempt another trip to the bank until Monday, and that
trip could very well be the most dangerous and deadly transaction he had ever
made. One certainty was that he would have to bypass the unstable Señorita
Gallego and go directly to the vault custodian.
Lonnie had seen in a movie once where a bank robber wrapped his throat
in gauze bandages and pretended that he was unable to speak due to a recent
operation. All communication was done by written notes. The former Palermo
playboy had to hope that whoever he was dealing with at that time would
accept the box key and his scribbled instructions with signature as sufficient
identification for access. This would be the initial plan, but he was by no means
certain his act would work. An attempt had to be made though, for without
funds, he could do nothing.
The Llama pistol would be tucked into his waistband for insurance. At
the first sign of trouble, his simple request would evolve into an impromptu
robbery to finance his escape. If that alternative disintegrated, then either the
Llama or his cyanide pill would end everything. Those were his only options!
Still, there was Renaldo. How proud Lonnie was of him! He wished with
all his heart that he could have been with him these last weeks, to help him, to
support him as a brother. The boy had grown to manhood in the few months
that they had been separated, and Lonnie had been forced to read about it in
newspapers, not experience it firsthand.
His brother, the player, seemed untouched by the tremendous publicity
that the idolizing press had laid at his feet. There had been no personal
interviews. Octavio Suarez was the only person that spoke to the press directly,
43
JAMES McCREATH
but all the articles and stories praised Renaldo’s youthful enthusiasm, his
natural talent, his stamina, and the ability to play, even when injured and of
course, his beautiful maleness.
It was said that truckloads of fan mail addressed simply to ‘Renaldo’
arrived at the team’s compound in Rosario daily. Again, Suarez interceded and
refused to let the players be diverted from their purpose by such trivialities.
After the tournament, there would be plenty of time to deal with the requests
for autographs, pictures, sexual liaisons, and marriage. It was also said that
the young center half could open his own lingerie boutique with all the ladies’
undergarments that had been shipped to him in perfumed envelopes. All
fan letters were screened electronically by x-ray as a security precaution, so
it was very likely that the rumors were true about the ‘gifts’ sent to young
Señor De Seta. All correspondence was packed away in a warehouse until after
the championship final, but Lonnie smiled to himself at the thought of how
embarrassed the kid would be with each package he opened. Oh, to be a star!
Hunger finally got the best of the weekender, and he rose from his
deliberations to see if this pension provided breakfast with the bed. There was
coffee, a bit of bread on the verge of outright staleness, and some extremely ripe
fruit, enough to stop the rumbling down below for a while. There were also
some canned meats and soups that would provide the evening feast.
Not too bad, not five-star fare, but passable terrorist provisions.
There was some time to kill before the day’s premier entertainment event
commenced. Lonnie didn’t really care who won the third-place match kicking
off at three p.m., but other than television, there was nothing to occupy his
mind. The soccer game would provide a temporary diversion from his dilemma,
so he tried to get excited about it. Besides, there might be an update or feature
on the Argentine National Team, maybe even something on ‘the kid.’
On one of his tours around the flat, he noticed his safety deposit key
beside the telephone. He retrieved his wallet
from the suit jacket that he had
worn the day before and went to replace the ‘key to his future’ in its lonely
confines. The white business card caught his eye.
“Astor Armondo Luis Gordero, Barrister and Solicitor.” Astor Gordero? It
was as if he had been struck by lightning. He was holding the business card
of his younger brother’s agent. A man said to have deep inroads into the inner
workings of the Argentine National Team. If anyone could pull some strings
and get the fugitive a ticket, that person was Astor Gordero!
Lonnie stared at the gold script. What were the risks of placing a call
to the famous lawyer? Gordero was involved in some way with his mother,
he knew that much from Oli. What were the odds that he could connect
Renaldo’s brother to any of his past terrorist crimes? Lonnie and his girlfriend
were camping in the south after being banished by Florencia De Seta. That
438
RENALDO
was the accepted story. If Gordero believed that, a request from Lonnie to see
his brother play in the World Cup final might not arouse any suspicion at all.
He had to be there to see Renaldo! He picked up the receiver and dialed the
numbers on the card.
Might as well get to know this man sooner than later. He might end up handling
my estate matters if things go badly. Lonnie smiled at his macabre sense of humor
as he waited for some response on the other end of the line. Being Saturday,
he knew that the chances of reaching Gordero were slim at best, but he had
nothing to lose in trying.
“A.R. Gordero and Sons. How may I help you?” the voice crackled in his
ear.
“Astor Gordero, if you please.”
“Señor Gordero is not working today. This is his answering service. If you
would like to leave a message, he will be in the office on Monday.” Lonnie’s
heart sank.
“Is there no way of contacting Señor Gordero before Monday? There is
some urgency to the matter I wish to discuss with him.”
“Are you a client of Señor Gordero’s?” the voice shot back, now slightly
impatient.
“No, no I am not a client personally, but my brother is a famous client
of Señor Gordero. Renaldo De Seta, the football player. And my mother does
business with the Señor as well. It is really important that I reach him as soon
Renaldo Page 71