John crouched deep in the pungent underbrush, regretting the rip in his shirt and the deep scratch on his arm and hoping there weren't any snakes living in here.
Carefully, so as not to create a flash, John raised his binoculars to study von Rossbach's house. There was a sloppy-looking little fellow lounging on the portal sipping a drink. Victor. He hadn't changed that much in three years.
Epifanio had entered the house earlier, and hadn't bothered to respond to Victor's greeting. Which didn't seem to bother Griego at all. In fact he'd laughed out loud.
John wondered what the hell the smuggler had done to alienate everyone in Villa Hayes so completely.
Dieter and Epifanio came out while he watched. Dieter ignored Victor as well, but the little man wasn't laughing about it. He looked damned serious. Epifanio and von Rossbach drove off as though he wasn't there. When they were just going out of sight, Victor spat.
That'll show 'em, John thought.
Now to find out where everybody else was so that he and his old friend Victor could have a nice long talk.
"Ssst! Senor!" John crouched down by the side of the portal, raising his head just high enough that Victor could see his eyes. He held up a bottle. "You want to buy some cana? It's very good, and cheap, too. My father, he makes it himself."
"If it's so good, kid, why don't you drink it?" Victor growled suspiciously.
John laughed. "Good as it is, senor, I can only drink so much."
"How much?" Griego asked.
"Cheap!" John said. "Seven thousand guaranis."
"You call that cheap? I was thinking more like two thousand. That's what I call cheap!"
" Si, that would be cheap, senor. Perhaps a little sample would convince you that my price is cheap for what you would be buying."
"Okay," Victor said instantly. "Bring it here."
"I don't dare, senor. The only watchdog that von Rossbach kuimba£ needs is Senora Garcia."
Griego laughed. "She's one mean bitch all right."
John giggled and slapped his leg. "Follow me, senor. I know a nice, shady spot not far from the house where we can drink in private."
John got up and started off at a slow trot. Turning, he saw that Victor was staring at him with narrowed eyes. He held up the bottle and ran backward a few steps.
Griego licked his lips and rose, coming down the steps eagerly.
"Not so fast," he protested. "I'm an old man."
"Soon you'll feel young again," John promised him. "My father says a full glass of cana makes him feel like a boy." Victor chuckled. "If you've got something that good it's worth twenty thousand guaranis."
John laughed and kept going, walking now, but every now and then speeding up to a trot to keep ahead of Griego.
"I'm sorry to hurry you, senor," he apologized. "But I want to get out of sight of the house. The senora doesn't like me one bit and I don't want to get into trouble with Senor von Rossbach. You know?"
"I know," Griego muttered. He plowed along, getting redder in the face and sweatier as he went. This stuff had better be worth the trouble or he just might take the bottle and clout the kid.
John led him through a path in the tall brush until they came to a low tree with a little poll of greening grass beneath it. "See," he said. "A very pleasant place for our talk." He held out the bottle.
"Talk!" Victor said, grabbing the bottle. "I thought we were here to drink, not talk." He threw himself down beside the tree and pulled the cork with his teeth, surprisingly white in his unshaven face. He took three long swallows of the liquor. "Not bad," he rasped when he came up for air. "Three thousand," he said, and took another drink.
"Senor! What are you doing? You must pay before you drink any more."
Victor chuckled. "You must learn not to offer a whole bottle as a free sample to a man like me," he said. "Three thousand or nothing, and I'm being generous."
He slung back the bottle again.
Suddenly Griego felt the cold sharp point of a knife on his Adam's apple. He didn't dare move his head, so he plugged the bottle with his tongue and tried to look around it at the boy. What he saw made him choke and the knife bit. A tiny drop of blood rolled down his throat.
"Ah, you recognize me." John smiled pleasantly. "At least you've had a farewell drink."
Victor lowered the bottle; liquor splashed his chin and throat amid the stubble, making the small cut burn.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "You're not going to kill me, are you?
John, we're friends, you and I. Surely you wouldn't kill your old friend Victor?"
His mouth widened in a nervous smile.
John looked thoughtful. "We were friends, weren't we?" he said. "My mother did much business with you, didn't she? That was when she was with…" He snapped the fingers of his other hand. "What was his name?"
"Peter Gallagher," Victor said eagerly. "That British fellow."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," John said, smiling. "That's right." He twisted the knife a bit, his young face growing crazy serious. "What a good memory you have, Victor.
You know a memory like that can get a man in trouble." John shifted so that he was directly in front of Griego, and closer. "You do know that, don't you?"
"No, no." Victor raised one finger and smiled desperately. "It's not what you know, it's who you tell!"
"Very true," John said. He looked into Victor's eyes as though searching his soul, something that made him feel slightly greasy all over. "So, old friend, what are you doing here, eh? Are you also a good friend of von Rossbach's? Somehow you don't seem his type."
Griego laughed, but the knife didn't back off. The tiny cut deepened. "It's not that we're friends," he said, fearful that saying he was might anger the boy. "We do business together," he explained. "Just business."
"Ahhh, business," John said. "I see. And just what business exactly does he have with you?" He watched Griego's pupils grow large in terror. "I think I know, you understand? So if you lie to me I'll slit your nose."
John pushed the tip of the knife into one nostril. Victor's eyes crossed and he whined, his eyes filling with tears. Thank God he had a chance to get a nice fortifying drink before we got started, John thought.
"Why don't we back up a bit," he said soothingly. "Tell me what you know about Dieter von Rossbach. Start with how long you've known him and go on from there."
"I've known him for maybe… ten years. He—he's used me primarily to get illegal weapons." Victor simpered. "Nothing too exotic, but not on the open market. You know?"
John nodded and made a come-on gesture with his other hand.
"Sometimes he'd purchase arms for a third party and have me do the shipping, that sort of thing. And sometimes he purchased information."
The knife pressed down slightly and Griego squeaked.
"In-for-mation," John said, stretching the word out. "That's right, you deal in information, don't you?" He gave his captive the same smile a cobra might give a rat. "Any chance that's why you're here now?"
Victor started to shake his head no and the knife pressed down. "Please," he begged, and started to sob.
"Maybe we should handle this like a business deal of our own," John said reasonably, withdrawing the knife. "If you answer my questions to my satisfaction, I'll not only let you keep all your important body parts, I'll throw in an arms cache my mom hid up by the Brazilian border. Assault rifles, SAWs, some antitank stuff. How's that sound, hmm?"
"Good, good," Victor said, shaking and sweating. "Good."