Authors: Barbara Phinney
"And it's the same one that killed Cabanelos."
"Yes. Where are you?"
Dawna listened to someone in the background muttering out something in Spanish. A rustle of paper followed and finally Tay said, "I'm in..." A man in the background said the name. "Pueblo Challacolla. It's about 15 kilometers west of Oruro. I can see the city from here. I'm not far from the road we took to go to Cardon Plata."
Dawna found herself nodding. "I'll find it on the map. What happened? How did you get way out there?"
"I'll tell you later. I have to cut this short. All I had were a couple of American dollars on me and they could buy me only a few minutes on this guy's phone."
"Whose phone?"
"The guy who owns the store here. You won't have any trouble finding it. There's only one store on the main drag. Can you come get me?"
"Yes." She crushed the resentment she felt as soon as she blurted out her answer. Resentment for the worry, or for sounding so needy with her answer? "I'll be there by this afternoon." She hung up before she said something that would express more of the relief that he was safe. That would be stupid. While Tay trusted her enough to ask her to pick him up, he refused to confide in her important details like his involvement with the CIA. Not even a confirmation. If it wasn't for the altitude and distance, she'd make him find his own way home.
No, she wouldn't. She was too much of a professional. Years of striving to be the best had ingrained in her the need to do the 'right' thing.
She set down the receiver and rose.
"Isn't this cozy?"
Tay looked up from the checker board to find Dawna climbing out of one of the embassy's armored cars. He'd recognized the big suburban a mile down the flat plateau road, spewing out swirls of dust like a sports car commercial, but he didn't get up. He'd promised the old-timer who owned this store one last game of checkers. Why, he didn't have a clue. The old man had won every game so far.
It was probably because the old guy took his time choosing each perfect move, with the precision of a champion chess player while Tay was just plain struggling to breathe.
He moved his piece to so obviously a bad square that the old man pounced on him and said something that Tay suspected must be, "I won!"
He sat back in the old chair, glad the game was over. "I had to do something to pass the time," he called out to Dawna. "Waiting for my friend to move gave me a chance to think."
Dawna slammed the Suburban's heavy door and walked over to the dusty store front. The thin, dry air had completely eradicated evidence of the unseasonal rainstorm a few days ago. Tay could see her drawn, tired features crease into a frown.
She crossed her arms. "Figured it all out yet? That is why you came up here, isn't it? I mean, if you simply wanted a good game of checkers, I would have put you in front of the ambassador's youngest daughter. She's pretty good."
Tay shook the old man's hand before turning to face her fully. He heard Dawna gasp. "What happened to your face?"
He gingerly tested the shiner with his fingertips. "I didn't come up here for checkers. Martin thought I needed to do some evening sightseeing. I'll tell you on the way home."
They waved goodbye to the old man, who lifted his straw hat and dipped his head. Once in the car, Tay recounted all that had happened.
"Did your old friend see Martin? He would have had to pass this way."
"I asked him, even drew a few pictures, but the old man kept shaking his head. I doubt he saw anything. Martin left me sometime around ten last night, and I had to wake this guy up when I reached here early this morning."
"How far did you walk?"
"A couple of miles, but it's all flat."
"And nearly as high as we were the other day in Cardon Plata. You must have been exhausted." Dawna let a frustrated sigh slip from her lips. "This doesn't make any sense. If Martin really wanted to get rid of you, he should have driven further into the mountains. You'd die of exposure overnight, especially being injured."
"Thanks." He gave her a brief smile. "My guess is he was running low on fuel. He had to turn around or risk not making it back."
"He sounds stupid."
"He is. And barely twenty, I'd say. But he has a mean right hook." Tay settled back in the seat. Relief had already begun to seep into him. Relief and plain thankfulness that things hadn't ended worse. He crushed down the urge to reach for Dawna. She didn't appear too happy to come and get him. She accelerated toward the city of Oruro ahead. They wouldn't enter the city, but rather meet the highway before it.
Dark circles arced under her eyes, and she stifled a yawn. Had she been up all night?
"Do you need to see a doctor?" she asked flatly.
He shook his head. Being back beside Dawna made him feel much better. And seeing her again, feeling the comfort that she had come for him right away, acted like a hot, soothing balm on his frayed nerves.
She still had on the same basic outfit she'd worn yesterday, making him wonder if she'd spent the night at the embassy. The shirt was no longer neatly pressed. Now, its warm creases accentuated her curves. She'd opened the two top buttons, as and unknowingly offering him a glimpse of the lace contour of her bra.
He leaned forward to crank the heat dial over to the far left. Cool air blasted out of the vents.
She shot him a suspicious look, but said nothing about his choice of temperature. "Did you get the plate number of Martin's SUV?"
"Yes, but I doubt it'll be useful. Expensive SUVs are a hot commodity in South America and plates get switched all the time. He'd have no trouble getting rid of vehicle regardless of the damage I caused when I fired at him."
She gripped the steering wheel. "You mentioned he looked familiar. Any idea why?"
"No. I'd remember if I'd worked with a guy like that. I'd have had him thrown off the case in a heartbeat."
"Case? You're an instructor at a Military Police School." Her eyes narrowed. "You can't be talking about when you were a Mountie. That kid wouldn't have been out of diapers, yet."
He shut his eyes, cursing himself. "I was talking hypothetically."
The big car screeched to a stop. Dust flew up around them, engulfing, blocking any vision of the city.
Dawna eased the vehicle to the side of the road. "Enough of the lies, Tay. We aren't moving again until you come clean with me. What case are you talking about? Were you working for the CIA?"
Chapter Fourteen
Tay dipped his head and ran his hands down his face. He must be tired to let something like that slip. The case he'd mentioned was too sensitive to discuss, even with Dawna. Sure, there was a small army of operatives working on it, and he didn't know them all, but no one of Martin's obvious inexperience would be involved. No way.
Besides, the case had a South American drug connection and for that very fact, he couldn't discuss it on this continent. Too many high politicians of various nationalities were being watched.
But a part of him wished he could mention it. He ached from all the kicks and punches Martin had inflicted on him, and could use a shower like nobody's business. Then after, holding Dawna in a tight embrace in his bed, he would tell her everything she'd demanded to know.
Yeah, that was a pipe dream.
"
Where the hell have you been, Nathan? And don't tell me another case you can't discuss. It's always another case you can't discuss.
"
He rubbed his temples, clenching his teeth to try to stop the grating sound of his mother's voice.
"Tay?"
Dawna's touch was feather light, but he jumped away from it. A second later, he sighed loudly, blinking.
"What's wrong, Tay?"
He swallowed. It was Dawna talking to him.
Only Dawna
.
But, hell, his mother's voice was clear, her words profound. Just as he reached out mentally to the words' deeper meaning, Dawna tightened her grip on his arm. "Are you feeling all right?"
The meaning popped like a soap bubble. Crap, he was so frigging tired right now. He shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm tired, that's all."
Her hard stare burned into him. He turned away, unable to look at her, and swiped his unshaven jaw with one of his dusty hands. A long, lingering minute later, Dawna turned to face the road, shoved the gear shift into drive and pulled back onto the highway. "This conversation isn't over," she muttered. "But it can wait until we've eaten and slept. And you've had a shower."
Dawna drove in gritty silence back into the city, occasionally passing local women in traditional dress and tiny bowlers, each holding high a ball of homemade llama cheese for sale. Her mind churned with everything that had happened, but she had to focus on the drive. Hairpin turns where high-sided trucks with fearless passengers clinging to the cabs' roofs often overtook others, and where people darted out with their wares held high, all this called for her full, undivided attention.
But her thoughts lingered on Tay. Without a decent night's sleep and good meal, nothing made any sense to her.
She did manage to steal the odd glance at him. He'd looked positively ill a few miles back, going pale and rubbing his head. Was it the altitude or had he also been poisoned?
A chill rippled through her.
Not Tay. Not Tay
, she begged God silently.
"I've had hours to think about what is going on here," Tay broke through her prayer. "Ramos is the one we should focus on. He's had access to the embassy, he's missing, and the bomb could have exploded prematurely while he was setting it."
She shook her head. "But remember, we can't find him. I've sent several
escoltas
to his apartment. On the way up here, I called one of them, and he told me he was able to get the apartment superintendent to let him into Ramos' place. He's not there, and it's hard to say if he packed up hastily or not."
She shook her head. "And we can't even speculate where he might be. Just before I left, I called his cell phone. No answer."
"Have you called the
policia
?"
"I asked the
escolta
to do it. No unidentified bodies have shown up, either." Dawna looked grim. "Do you think his past is related to this? Where would he go? According to his file, he has no one except a cousin."
"Then we should start there." Tay straightened, as if renewed by the prospect that they may be making progress. "Grab a change of clothes from your apartment, Dawna. We'll go back to my hotel room."
"Why? I should think the embassy would be better."