Henry realized he could do the world a big favour by reaching in his jacket pocket, pulling out the gun and wasting this guy on the spot. His hand slid inside his jacket almost involuntarily.
Trevor Hodges caught the movement. His eyes narrowed as his hand slid inside his own jacket.
But Henry froze. Suarez was focused now on Sarah.
“You remind me of someone,” he said with a flirtatious look in his eye. “I know — it’s that woman on the television, that X-Files show. What’s her name?”
“Gillian Anderson?” said Sarah. “Why, thanks.”
Henry was doing everything he could to control his emotions. His mind raced as he weighed possible action. But all he did was stare at Suarez.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” he said. “What was that name again?”
“Giantonio Frazetti at your service, Mr Gibbs.”
Suarez held out his hand. “I am a wine grower, in Santiago on business. These are my associates, Hodges and Poteshkin.”
Henry took his hand from his jacket and shook Suarez’s. Gradually his heartbeat slowed a bit. “Like my wife said, we’re just in town on our honeymoon — turistas.”
He looked at Sarah. It was obvious she found the bastard attractive. Right then he didn’t know which galled him more — that the man had shot him and his dogs or that Suarez was getting smiles from Sarah.
Then it dawned on him: Suarez doesn’t recognize me!
Relief flooded through him. Of course! I was covered head-to-toe in arctic gear, and this guy was an amateur in Antarctica. He wouldn’t have had the ice savvy necessary to recognize people through their parkas.
“I hope you are enjoying our city. It is lovely, no?”
Suarez was saying.
Henry nodded. “Very much. Say, are you guys staying at the Foresta too?”
Remo joined the conversation, shaking his head.
“We’re in the Carrera. Not far from the Foresta, on the other side of the Moneda.”
“How is it there?” said Henry, making smal talk.
“Not bad.” Trevor was still eyeing Henry’s jacket.
“How’s the Foresta?”
Henry, noticing the direction of the man’s gaze, remembered that their street map was in the same pocket as his gun. He reached in. The man copied his movements. Just as I thought. These goons are armed bodyguards of the bastard who’s calling himself Frazetti.
Henry pulled out the map and the goon relaxed.
Opening the map, Henry turned it every which way in true turista fashion. “So where are we, and where’s this hotel of yours?”
Without hesitation the big mustachioed goon started pointing a finger to the map, but Frazetti/Suarez interrupted.
“Ask any cab driver. They’ll take you there. You should see it before you leave Santiago. They have a lovely and most unusual atrium in the lobby.”
“We will,” said Sarah, smiling warmly.
Suarez tipped his straw fedora graciously and bowed to her, then to Henry. “I thought we had met before, but it must be your lovely wife’s resemblance to the beautiful Miss Anderson that held me confused. By the way, how is the breakfast here?”
“Delicious,” said Sarah. “You should try it.”
“Thank you. We have eaten already this morning. But we will try it perhaps another day. I hope you have a wonderful stay in Santiago.”
He replaced his hat and left with his men.
Henry was bursting to tell Sarah all. “That was…”
Suarez suddenly returned.
“I forgot to wish you a long and happy life together.”
He disappeared again around the hedge.
“What the heck was the matter with Shep?” said Sarah. “He seemed like such a nice man.”
The shock of Suarez’s abrupt return had rendered Henry speechless. Should he get up and follow Suarez? Should he tell Sarah what he knew?
“I think the reason Shep was growling is because he hates the guy,” said Henry after a long pause.
“But why?”
“Maybe it’s because he shot me and my other dogs.”
She spilled the cup of coffee she’d just picked up. Her mouth hung open.
“No.”
“Oh yes.”
“How long should we wait?” muttered Sarah urgently.
“They told us where they were staying,” said Henry, equally quietly. “Assuming that wasn’t a lie, maybe it’s better we don’t follow them. We can use the phone to let Enrique know — he can take it from there. But not just yet. Shitface might do another of his reappearing tricks.”
He sipped his coffee and watched the seconds tick by on his watch. Each one was an eternity in which he contemplated the consequences of the call he was about to make.
Sarah opened her bag and eyed the cel phone next to the silver pistol. Even though she worked for the FBI, she had never considered that one day she might look into her bag and find a gun. Even more outrageous that she might actually think of using it. Suddenly her “honeymoon romance” had taken a serious downturn.
“Give me the phone,” said Henry. “Time to drop dime on a goddam terrorist.”
He stood up cautiously and looked over the hedges. Far in the distance he could see Suarez and the goons crossing into the square, headed for the Modena.
Henry punched in the number 1 and a second later he heard a double ring.
A little girl’s voice answered the phone in Spanish.
“Si? ”
“Su padre, er, little girl. Hasta Enrique? ”
“Que? Que es? ” said the shy little voice.
He put his hand over the mouthpiece and asked Sarah how her Spanish skills were.
“What?” She rolled her eyes. “They’re just about nonexistent.”
“Shit!” said Henry as he heard the telephone disconnect. “Technology is just fucking great until it’s life or death!”
He jabbed at the redial button. If he made a pest of himself, he might just get the attention of the girl’s parents.
The phone rang and rang.
At last the little girl’s voice answered again.
“Si? ”
Henry tried desperately to remember his two years of high-school Spanish.
“Su padre… por favor? ”
There was silence for a second, then the word “Si” from the tiny voice.
Then several more seconds of silence.
Henry began to perspire heavily.
Behind him he could hear Shep panting.
Suddenly the phone disconnected again.
Once more he dialled. This time a woman’s voice answered.
Henry couldn’t get a word in as she spoke rapidly in Spanish. He could recognize only a few syl ables, at best. Before he could interrupt he was listening to the dialling tone again.
“They must think I’m a child molester,” he said.
With a deep sigh he hit the #1 button once more.
There could be no mistake, surely. Enrique had entered the coded number himself.
Busy.
Henry shoved the phone’s antenna into its body and patted Sarah’s arm.
“Let’s go to the hotel. I’ve got to find one of those Navy spies who’ve been watching us. We’ll try Enrique again later.”
It was only a block and a half to the hotel. Before they went in, Henry surveyed the block, but couldn’t see any likely Naval intelligence operatives. Finally he followed Sarah and Shep inside.
Again it was as if his country had abandoned him. No one in the lobby looked remotely like US military. He and Sarah stood amid a flurry of baggage as a troop of Korean youngsters swarmed past them to the elevators. After the confusion had died down the two of them, plus Shep, remained in the lobby hoping their bodyguards might appear.