"Don't disparage your mother, Lila. She's got a lot of ability. She'll do well. It's something she's always wanted to do."
"Sure. I bet she'd do better, though, if you were around to help."
Roddy grinned. Lila the matchmaker. She had always urged him to come back.
"I might bother her boyfriends," he said lightly.
"Get real, Dad. She hasn't encouraged anybody. The only guy she went out with more than a time or two in Gainesville turned out to be married. She told him to get lost. What about your love life?"
"What makes you think I have one?" he said defensively.
"Just asking."
"Well, I have no real entanglements," he said, not at all sure of its truthfulness.
"Why don't you come up and join us for the Fourth of July? We plan to get together with Renee and Jim. May even go into Washington for the big concert at the Capitol."
"I don't know, Lila. I'll think about it."
"Don't just think about it, Dad. Make a reservation. A few more days and it may be difficult to get a flight."
"How do you like living in Alexandria?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Great. We're far enough out that you don't feel so crowded, but it's just a hop and a skip from everything. Promise me you'll really consider coming up for the Fourth."
"I'll let you know. I promise."
What timing, he thought as he finished getting dressed. He was happy to know things were going well with his family, but it didn't help his confused state of mind. Elena had invited him to dinner, and he had finally agreed to spend the night this time. No creeping drive home in the wee hours.
An interesting coincidence occurred over the telephone lines in Guadalajara that evening. Two calls were placed to phones in Minsk, capital of the Republic of Belarus. Both callers spoke in Russian, and the conversations began almost identically.
The first call was placed around five p.m. from a residence in Sector Libertad, the northeastern quadrant of the city.
A somewhat sleepy voice answered, "Hello."
"This is Herr Gruber," said the party in Guadalajara. "I hope I didn't wake you."
"I haven't been to bed yet. I've been waiting up to hear from you. How did it go?"
"We just arrived a short time ago," reported the bogus German. "Mission successful. We have the goods here in Guadalajara. We'll be taking them to the mountains early in the morning."
"Are your support people in place?"
Romashchuk chuckled softly. "Support people" was an interesting euphemism for Peruvian guerrillas. "Yes, sir. We will start familiarizing them with their assignment tomorrow."
"Good. What have you done about the individual our friend suggested keeping an eye on?"
"That's taken care of. I should know soon if he is really a problem. How are things progressing over there?"
A smile was detectable in General Valeri Zakharov's normally dour voice. "Our brain trust met earlier this evening. Everything is in readiness. Everyone is anxious to get on with the job. We anticipate things running smoothly, so long as your part of the operation goes as scheduled. You're sure no one took any interest in your delivery?"
"Reasonably certain. We noticed a particular blue Ford on a few occasions along the way. There is a great deal of traffic on that highway, so it's hard to tell—"
"That isn't good enough."
"I know. If he shows up again, we'll take care of him. It was a lone male driver. He would disappear for long periods of time. We saw no more of him after arriving in Guadalajara."
"All right. But don't take any chances. Check in with me before you leave there."
The second call was placed from a 24-hour telephone shop in the vicinity of the Motel La Palma, where long distance calls could be made and paid for in cash. It occurred around ten p.m.
"Hello," said a groggy voice.
The caller from Mexico said, "I hope I didn't wake you."
"What time is… oh, it's time I got up anyway. Who is this?"
"Your friend in Mexico."
"Damn," said Detective Omar Khan. "You really made it?"
"Of course I made it. What kind of question is that?"
"Sorry. We've been wondering."
"Who is `we'?"
"I don't think we'd better use any names."
"You think somebody is tapping your line?"
"No. I don't know why they would. It just seems prudent."
"Very well. Are you referring to a certain medical person?"
"Yes, you could say that."
"Well," Yuri Shumakov said somewhat anxiously, "tell this person I love her and miss her and I'm rapidly running out of cash. I need help."
"I'll see what I can do. Have you had any results so far?"
"You're damned right." Now there was excitement in Yuri's voice.
"Remember my telling you about the guy whose trail I turned up in Kiev? He's here."
"In Mexico?"
"Right. I lost him this afternoon, but I'm hopeful of tracking him down in the morning. I haven't figured out yet just how to get the information out of him that I need. But as soon as I can pin him down, I'm going after him."
"Best be careful, my friend."
"Don't worry. I'm well aware of the kind of man he is. Look, if anyone can come up with some money, it can be wired to me through Banamex, that's a major Mexican bank, in Guadalajara."
He gave Omar Khan the address of a bank branch located near the motel.
"Sounds like you need it right away," said the detective.
"Just as fast as you can get it here. Use the name on my passport. It's the middle of the evening now. I'll check with the bank tomorrow afternoon. If there's no word, I'll check back again the following morning."
"We should be able to get something to you by then."
"Thanks. I appreciate it. I'll call on my Cossack roots and dance a prysiadka at your wedding."
Kahn laughed. "Happily, I have no plans for such an event in the foreseeable future. Take care."
38
It was seven-thirty when Roddy rang the bell at Elena's massive front door. Manuel beckoned him inside and silently led him through the breakfast room onto the courtyard, where he found an exquisitely set table for two, complete with candlelight and wine. Manuel pulled back a chair.
"Please have a seat, Señor. The Señora will join you shortly."
When Elena appeared about ten minutes later, she wore a long, cream-colored dress with full sleeves and a square-cut bodice. Its only decoration was a simple embroidered pattern around the ends of the sleeves, over the shoulders and across the bust. She might have been a peasant girl dressed for folk dancing, but the simple understatement made her natural beauty more dazzling.
Manuel held the chair for her and then poured the wine. Smiling brightly, Elena inquired, "What did you think of the ranch?"
"Fabulous. Just like the lady who runs it."
"Oh, you liked Rosa?" she said, eyes twinkling.
"You know who I'm talking about. You run a big operation. I'm impressed."
"Think I could talk you into coming aboard?"
His eyes contemplated her from beneath a rumpled brow. "Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious. I don't joke about business."
A disturbing thought suddenly hit him. Was she only interested in him for his companionship? Might he become simply a "kept" man? That didn't square too well with his sense of machismo. "What would I do?"
"Be my pilot, for one thing. And be someone I could bounce ideas off. I often need a man's point of view, but I want someone I can trust to have my best interests at heart, rather than his own. I can't count on getting that from my relatives."