They got up early and walked Shep. As they encountered Enrique in his usual parking spot at the edge of the hotel foyer, they stopped to say hi.
“We’re just going to stroll around the park and maybe even swim in the hotel pool,” said Henry, leaning in through the car window. “Why don’t you take the day off, on us?”
Enrique frowned. “That is not what President Frei has asked me to do. He tells me to keep you in sight. To watch out for you.”
“Well, Enrique, seems like we have five guys from the US military for that. Besides, we’re armed and dangerous. Go ahead, we won’t be needing you until tomorrow. We won’t tell on you.”
Enrique whistled. “Your offer, Sir Henry, is most tempting. My little girl is having a birthday party, and she wanted me there.”
“How old is she?” asked Sarah.
“She is five today, señora. She is muy bonita… very pretty.”
“You should be at her party, Enrique,” said Sarah.
“Go ahead. If you get any flak, we’ll insist that we begged you to go.”
Enrique smiled and looked at the big malamute watching him from Henry’s side with friendly eyes.
“What should I do, Shep?”
The dog barked when he heard his name.
“He is also telling me to go. Perhaps I can argue with you, Sir Henry, but to argue with one so monstrous as this dog? I don’t think so.”
“There’s a wise decision,” said Henry. “We’re out of dog food. You should get away while you still can.”
Enrique pulled a spare cel phone from the glove compartment. He punched in a number, then handed the phone to Henry. “Take this and, if you need me, just hit number uno — one. I will answer the call. My home is not five minutes from here.”
Henry and Sarah waved goodbye as the limousine pulled away. Then they continued their walk with Shep up the street towards the park. It was a Friday morning, so they had the park all to themselves. The rain that had pelted Santiago so hard the day before had passed, leaving the park looking clean and fresh but all the benches wet. After a few hours of strolling around, they decided to have breakfast at the cantina near the hotel.
They chose to sit where they had before, a spot near the hedge and the street. Henry had found a copy of the New York Times and hoped to catch up on the news.
Antonio, the waiter who’d served them before, spotted them and came rushing over with a coffee pot. He greeted them like old friends and took their orders immediately.
When he left, Henry said, “Glad I didn’t give him more than a twenty. He might have given me a k…”
Sarah swatted him on the arm. “Be nice.”
He laughed and opened the paper. He glanced at the headline at the top of page two, and his eyes widened.
“Listen to this, Sarah.”
Authorities Mum About Threat
NEW YORK Doomsayers are having a field day as the world waits for the Deep Ice Terrorists’ October 1 deadline to arrive. With only 96 hours remaining before the day on which terrorists promised to detonate more nuclear weapons on the Ross Ice Shelf, authorities are refusing to comment on the veracity of the threat.
He put the paper in his lap and stared off into space.
“God, Henry, that sounds more like front page news to me,” said Sarah, peering at the text.
Henry’s surprised expression changed to one of worry. “Jeez, I kinda figured they’d have paid up — done something — by now. I guess they’re still spinning wheels, waiting for the terrorists to make the next move.”
He picked up the paper again.
In Washington, a White House aide was expected to respond last night to the flood of inquiries which have clogged switchboards, letter bins and e-mail servers. Instead, in a brief unsigned press release, the White House said it was withholding comment. Meanwhile, an unprecedented amount of doomsaying is being reported, from graffiti and placard-carriers on the streets to Wall Street projections and apocalyptic messages from pulpits.
In Rome the Pope called for a week-long vigil of prayer to “dissolve the fear in our hearts and to dissuade the terrorists from realizing their terrible threat.” Speaking off the record in a phonecall to Ted Koppel on ABC’s Nightline, President Kerry said the USA “wouldn’t let its citizens down, and would meet all threats with a response that would protect its interests and those of the world.”
China has ordered the immediate evacuation of all coastal cities, and reports suggest the free world will soon follow suit.
Henry scanned down the page and then handed the newspaper to Sarah. “Read it yourself. No more news.”
She examined the remainder of the article as Antonio returned with their breakfast and a basket of rolls. He looked over her shoulder.
“Everyone is talking about this except the people who should be talking about it,” he said in disgust. “It is the same as always. When you really need them, our governments are hopeless to protect us.”
Sarah smiled. “You mean helpless.”
“That is true as well.”
She asked Antonio if he had family living on the coast.
The boy shook his head. “Thank the Virgin, no. But I have many friends in Vina Del Mar… Valparaiso. They are planning to leave, but few people have anywhere to go. And now the business is moving to other cities away from the coast.”
Antonio had the habit of poking her when he made a point, and it was beginning to get on her nerves.
“I have a friend who says the ships are afraid to come to close to the harbour because of the waves, and the vegetables they are rotting in the warehouses waiting for shipping.”
He jabbed her arm again.
“This could ruin us all, no?”
As central as Sarah and Henry were to the crisis, they felt powerless to say anything comforting. Finally Henry said, “Just be glad you live in Santiago. And, er, stop prodding my wife.”
When Antonio had finally gone, Sarah looked at Henry in wonder.
“Did you hear what you just said? ‘Wife’?”
“Well, what’s the diff? No need to go into big explanations. ‘Wife’ covers it.” He paused, a look of consternation crossing his face. “Oh. Um, did you mind?”
“Actual y I… liked the sound of it.”
“I’m glad.”
People began to filter into the open-air cantina. Soon every table was filled.
Henry glanced at his watch. “Just like everywhere else. Coffee break at ten.”
He looked up to his left as a shadow fell over them.
“Do I know you two from somewhere?” said a man’s voice.
Tied to the hedge behind Henry, Shep rose to his feet with a low growl.
Henry looked up to see who was speaking to him, but the man was silhouetted by the bright morning sun.
“Name’s Henry. Yours?”
“Giantonio Frazetti,” said the man. “I saw you at the restaurant in the Foresta, last evening, did I not?”
Henry still couldn’t see the stranger’s face.
Finally the man moved around to Sarah’s side of the table.
As soon as Henry looked into his eyes he knew.
This was the man who had shot him.
Chills coursed through his body.
Shep’s low growl continued from behind Henry’s chair.
Suarez was with four of his henchmen. Henry recognized them immediately. The big one’s red moustache was unmistakable.
Suarez held out his hand to Sarah. “And who are you?”
“Sarah Gibbs,” she said, winking at Henry. “We’re newly-weds from America.”
“Wonderful country!” exclaimed Suarez. “I have many friends there.”