He shrugged. “I think we’ll find out soon enough.”
He was right. After a moment, the lieutenant signal ed for Henry to join them. Sarah came too.
The manager was again on the phone.
“He’s calling Frazetti — Suarez — to the desk. To receive a message, he’s saying,” explained the lieutenant.
“They — should we? — what should Sarah and I do?
When he comes?”
“Tell me if it’s Rudolfo Suarez. We’ll arrest him and you can go home.”
One of the desk clerks walked over and spoke quietly to the manager, who raised his eyebrows and looked at Henry and the lieutenant.
“Señor Tilbury, I am sorry,” he said. “I am told the gentleman you seek has left the hotel. At least a half- hour ago. I apologize for misleading you.”
“Take me to the room. Now!” demanded the lieutenant angrily.
The lobby seemed to be filling up. Henry looked at his watch and noticed that it was about noon. The smell of food wafted from the direction of the restaurant. He glanced back up at Tilbury in time to see him and his two men move towards the elevators.
“Damn,” said Henry to Sarah. “How come the man split so fast? Do you think we — that he was tipped off somehow?”
Sarah was holding Shep’s leash, so she was first to notice the dog’s low growl. Shep started to pul her away. She looked in the direction he was tugging her and saw two men moving across a darkened hall that led to a nightclub near the restaurant.
“Henry — it’s him!”
Shep yelped unexpectedly and lunged forward. The leash slipped easily from her hand as the dog ran off towards the men he’d seen.
Henry looked around in total confusion.
The three military agents were already in the elevator, and his dog was suddenly in pursuit of terrorists.
“Stop, Shep!” he yelled as though commanding a sled team.
Immediately the dog slowed to a walk, looking back at his master.
Henry ran to grab the leash. As soon as he’d done so, Shep leapt forward again, this time with his pink tongue dangling happily from his open jaws.
Sarah nervously followed.
When Henry got to the door he’d seen the terrorists enter, he stopped and reached into his pocket for the gun. His fingers brushed its steel handle, but then he took his hand away. He had no authority to pul a gun. If a Chilean cop spotted him it might be him, not Suarez, who got shot.
When Sarah caught up to him he handed her the leash. “Take him, use two hands. Don’t come in the bar.”
Then he opened the door slowly and entered.
By contrast with the brightness of the lobby, the room was dimly lit. Henry walked as casually as he could through the thick smell of coffee, beer and cigarettes to the bar, trying to scan the room as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Gradually he could make out booths and tables all about him, most of them full of the lunchtime crowd. The bar itself had half a dozen men seated around it; they seemed to be watching a soccer game on the TV above the bar. As he reached the bar, two more couples came into the room from a far entrance.
He could see no sign of the men he’d been following.
Henry edged up to the bar and rested his elbows on it, continuing to survey the room as furtively as possible.
The bartender came over immediately and tapped Henry’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Como esta, señor? Cerveza? ”
“Two men came in here a moment ago. Where did they go?”
The barman said nothing but pointed to an exit sign at the far end of the room. Henry could make out that the bar was situated between the hotel and a mal of stores that ran through an adjoining building. The fugitives could be anywhere.
Cursing under his breath, he decided the best thing was to let the professionals handle the chase.
Sarah and Shep were waiting outside the door where he’d left them. They gazed at him the same way: wide-eyed.
“Are they in there?” said Sarah.
“Just passed through, I guess. There’s at least one other entrance to the bar. They could have gone anywhere. I think we should let the pros do the chasing.”
“Fine with me.” She handed Henry the leash. “Shep didn’t like you being out of sight.”
Henry took the leash without comment and headed back to the hotel lobby. At the front desk he breathlessly explained the situation to the manager. The man reached for the phone and gave instructions as calmly as before. “Have the American police contact me immediately.”
Sarah had decided to sit down and wait this out in the atrium. Once more Henry found himself gazing at her, noticing how lovely she looked as the light streamed down on her from above.
Then he saw Grimes and Hayes walking towards him from the main entrance. Grimes carried a small black machine gun loosely under his right arm. The general was in full uniform, wearing a long unbuttoned topcoat.
“Henry!” said Hayes. “How’s the party?”
Grimes studied Sarah for a moment, then turned his attention to Henry. He gave Henry a half-smile and nodded but said nothing.
“Party?” said Henry.
The general looked around the room, glared at the manager, then began grilling Henry for information. He was surprisingly efficient at extracting the core data. Within moments he was on a cel phone and heading with Grimes towards the elevator. As he went he told Henry to stay in the lobby and keep his eyes open.
“There are still three men in the room. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
Henry pulled Shep to his feet and went to join Sarah in the atrium. He sighed and leaned back on the sleek black leather upholstery.
“Damn,” he said. “It’s all happening too fast.”
“I wasn’t surprised to see the general and his war dog march in here.” Sarah seemed calm again. “Just surprised it took them so long — with their Stealth planes and whatnot.”
He told her about the three men still up in the room.
“Good. Someone for Grimes to kill. I’ll bet he’s happy as a kid in a toystore right now.”
“I was hoping he’d get to kill someone before too long,” replied Henry with a straight face. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Terrific.”
Five floors directly over their heads, Lieutenant Tilbury and his two military agents waited by the elevators for the arrival of Hayes and Grimes. Their eyes never left the hallway or the door to room 555. Finally the elevator door opened and they were joined by the general and the SEAL.
“Where’s the rest of your men?” asked Tilbury.
“Three on the roof,” said Grimes. “Show me the room.”
When the door to room 555 flew open, only one of the three men inside jumped to his feet and drew a pistol. The other two remained momentarily frozen in their seats, holding beers and staring at Grimes and the three military agents with their jaws agape. Then suddenly the beer cans crashed to the floor as they went for their weapons.
Grimes fired his Uzi with deadly precision. Hodges’s thigh exploded, and he went reeling to the floor. The other two were shot by Tilbury and his men as they dove for cover.
Grimes walked over to Hodges and knelt down so that his knee pressed into the man’s temple. “We want info, not bodies!” he remarked to Tilbury as he casually broke Hodges’s thumb pulling the automatic weapon from the man’s hand. “Oops.”
As Hayes came in he winced at the sound of splintering bone.
“Jesus, Kai! Is that real y necessary?”
“Call an ambulance,” said Grimes to one of the agents. “See if either of those two is alive.” He pointed to the bodies strewn on the carpet.
Already a large pool of blood was growing around the face of the man in front of the sofa — he was obviously dead. But a soft moan came from man lying half-behind it. One of his feet twitched as he regained consciousness and tried to move, crammed as he was between the furniture and the wall.