“They always have Pepsi,” said Grimes with a grim laugh. “I guess Coke is something else down here.”
Sarah asked for a white wine and Hayes and Henry ordered coffee.
When the waitress had gone, Sarah looked at Grimes.
“Did you really kill someone?” she repeated. “You seem so… so calm. How did it feel?”
Grimes’s facial expression didn’t change. He held up his hand as though gripping a pistol. He flexed his index finger.
“It felt like this.”
She stared at the SEAL. She knew he was a warrior, but the coldness with which he made the gesture had her wondering if there was any difference between him and a mob hitman.
Sarah was no stranger to the military. Her father had flown bombers over Italy during World War II, and her older brother piloted an atomic submarine for the Navy. But she had only heard stories about this type of soldier. She’d never known anyone from America’s “special teams”, as her father had so often referred to them.
The general seemed to know what was going through Sarah’s mind. “It’s folly to seek civility in war, Miss French,” he offered. “Your question is understandable but, I have to say, improper.
Commander Grimes acted professionally, for the sake of millions of people. Please don’t forget why we are here. This is war.”
Grimes looked at the general. “Do I get a raise then, sir?”
“I’m sorry,” said Sarah.
Grimes looked at her sympathetical y. “Not a prob, Sarah. You should have reacted the way you did. A normal thing. You remind me of what it is to be human.”
Hayes was visibly startled. He’d wondered many times if he’d ever see evidence of the man’s soul. That Grimes could do what he did appalled him too, but Hayes knew that anti-terrorism meant developing a dark heart. Now he could see that men like Grimes were motivated more by duty than by honour. Obviously Grimes had no illusions about his work, or about the fact that it sparked his sense of mortality. Hayes understood then, more deeply than before, that men like Kai Grimes might have a great deal to teach the rest of us about right and wrong.
His train of thought shifted to Rudolfo Suarez. Perhaps the worst kind of terrorist. A wolf hiding among lambs, sworn to a purpose — absolutely, angrily, and alone. Viewing humanity as a resource to be til ed. But why Suarez? What had a multi-millionaire to gain from the ransom of the world’s coastlines? And how did this link to the famous manifesto he’d forced the world to read?
“What about Suarez?” said Henry. “What happens when he finds out what’s happened to his men?”
“Did you tip him off at that cantina you spoke about?” asked Hayes.
Sarah shook her head. “He doesn’t suspect a thing.
I’m sure of it.”
“Me too,” said Henry. “The fact that Sarah looks something like a famous TV actress seemed to get him off our scent. But I thought the dog would blow it. I’m convinced Shep recognized him too.”
Hayes peeked briefly under the table. “Anything to add, Shep?”
Henry smiled wanly. “Now that you know who it is I saw on the ice, planting the bombs, do you need me — us — any more?”
“You forget, Henry,” said Grimes, “you two still are the only people in the world who can finger him.”
The general nodded. “I’m sorry, but he’s right. At least for the moment, until we find Suarez, we need you at hand. And we have to get him fast.”
“You only need one of us,” said Henry, looking at Sarah. “I don’t want her in any danger. Let her go back to Washington.”
“Wait a goddam minute, Henry,” said Sarah angrily.
“I’ll speak for myself, thank you very much!”
“Oops,” snickered Grimes, covering his eyes. “A woman scorned.”
“Sarah, what’s the point of you getting killed?” said Henry.
“Another set of eyes to watch your back,” she replied hotly. “Two witnesses — spotters — whatever you want to call us. Or how about duty? Or is that just a man thing?”
“Yow,” said Grimes. “Hit the dirt, guys. She’s firing Scuds.”
Hayes forced a chuckle. “All right, folks. No point in arguing about this. The President wants all of his people on the job. You’re drafted. At least you are, Gibbs — she already works for us. And that damned mutt of yours is an agent too, until I say otherwise.”
“Or he does,” muttered Gibbs cynically.
“But don’t feel too bad about this,” continued Hayes.
“The good news is we know who he is. We know he’s nearby. And the Chilean Army is out there looking for him as well. You two may only have to view a line-up.”
Remo unlocked the door to the van and held it open for his boss. He could tell that Rudy’s mood had changed since they’d left the hotel. Usually Rudy walked with a free style, as if he owned the world. Now he seemed nervous. Remo chalked it up to the approaching deadline. Rudy was about to contact the UN Security Council via the internet and make specific demands about the distribution of the ransom. Remo concluded that Rudy was focused on the plan. That made sense, though Remo had never seen Rudy behave quite this way before, and he felt compelled to break his rule of obedient silence. This was, after all, seeing to his boss’s well — being. Armed with that idea, he mustered the nerve to ask a question.
“Something bothering you, boss?”
Suarez didn’t answer at first. He settled into the front passenger seat and buckled the safety belt.
“Swing around the square before we go to the Hacienda. I want to look around,” he said.
“Yes, boss,” said Remo, putting the van in “drive”.
He pulled out of the tiny parking lot and into the street, wondering if Rudy had even heard his question. He dared not repeat it.
As they passed the Carrera Hotel, they were surprised to see emergency vehicles parked in front.
“Go around the block again, Remo. I don’t recall any problem at the hotel. Do you?”
“Maybe a fire, Rudy,” answered Remo. “It’s an old hotel.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Remo! Do you see fire trucks? And what the hell are those military vehicles for?”
Remo stared at a group of Chilean soldiers standing beside two armoured personnel carriers. Next to them was an ambulance, its lights flashing and back doors open, ready to receive casualties.
Rudy pulled a cel phone from his jacket pocket and dialled the hotel. As soon as he got through he asked for room 555.
“No, no messages,” he said after a moment, and hung up.
“Trevor won’t be there,” said Remo. “He told me he was going to leave when they’d finished the beers.”
“I know that,” said Suarez grimly. “I was there, remember?”
“Do you think there’s trouble?”
“The switchboard said the people in that room have checked out.” Suarez seemed to be speaking as much to himself as to Remo. “I was going to have them ring the room, but… Well, when we get to Mountain View we should be hearing from them.”
“Around the block again, boss?” asked Remo.
“No. Just head for the Hacienda.”
The switchboard at the hotel had sounded normal, but it struck Suarez as odd that someone would ask if there was a message for guests who’d already checked out. Try as he would, though, he couldn’t imagine a scenario that could jeopardize him, his men, or his plans.
Remo turned the van onto the main highway that led out of Santiago, and in minutes they were moving towards the Andes.
Back at the hotel, the switchboard operator casually mentioned to her supervisor that there had been a call for room 555.
To her surprise, the supervisor burst forth with questions.