The air was thin, all right. Even tabbing at a normal pace made us pant. Because we’d heard that the Colombians clocked visitors as they went into the embassy we’d decided not to turn up together; so a couple of blocks away we split and I went on ahead.
Inside the foyer of the propaganda tower a receptionist took my details, gave me a visitor’s badge, and directed me into the lift. ‘Embajada Británica’ said the elaborate gold writing outside the door on the fourth-floor landing. I rang the bell and waited, not quite knowing what to expect. There was quite a long pause before anything happened, and I was on the point of ringing again when the security system clicked into life and a woman’s voice said, ‘Can I help you?’
‘Sergeant Sharp to see Captain Black.’
A buzzer sounded and the door opened. Inside, waiting to receive me, stood an amazingly attractive woman, simply dressed in a white shirt and black skirt, with long, dark hair and a distinctly Spanish look about her oval face, olive skin and black eyes. She was older than me, I reckoned, but not much.
‘Hello,’ she said, smiling and holding out an elegant hand, ‘I’m Luisa Bolton. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but our receptionist’s off sick, and I’m having to double.’
Her English was perfect, but with a slight Spanish intonation. I introduced myself, and explained that Tony would be with us in a moment. Then I asked, ‘What do you do normally, then?’
‘Communications — that’s my job. Come in, anyway. Peter’s with the ambassador for the moment. Will you have some coffee?’
She led the way into an ultra-modern office, leaving a trail of some weird perfume behind her, and I perched awkwardly on a swivel chair among the fax-machines, teleprinters and word-processors while she went into a little annexe and set a coffee percolator on the go. A plate-glass window gave a dramatic view of the nearby mountains to the east, with expensive-looking properties clinging to their lower slopes. On the opposite wall the only decoration was a huge coloured print of a condor with its wings outstretched. The picture must have been ten feet wide, nearly life-size.
Soon, another delicious smell was mingling with the perfume: fresh, home-grown coffee. It was odd, but this woman was reminding me strongly of Tracy. Her colouring was quite different, and her legs weren’t so long, but there was something about her movements and mannerisms that was familiar and enticing. I realized I was watching her with more than just professional interest. I gave myself a sharp mental bollocking. Hands off! For one thing, Tracy had been fantastic in taking on both my house and my child. For another, I knew that any involvement with a member of the embassy staff might lead to serious complications — especially as I was still on a warning order from the Regiment, and needed to play everything straight.
In a couple of minutes Tony arrived, and I introduced him. As Luisa organized cups and saucers, she asked questions about our journey up, and we answered politely. But all the time I was thinking, ‘There’s something going on here. It was that one word which had tipped me off: the way she’d referred to the Rupert simply as ‘Peter’. In a flash of intuition I felt certain he was humping her. Why else would she refer to him in that familiar way, by his first name only? That was why he’d suddenly cancelled his second visit to the camp: he’d got straight into a legover engagement and was having too good a time in Bogotá.
I wondered if I ought to have a word with him straight away, tell him to screw the nut. This was his first team job. In the past, plenty of jobs had been ruined by one guy not being able to keep his pecker in his pants. I realized though that if I said anything, it might lead to a major confrontation to the detriment of the team. Already there was an atmosphere between us, and any criticism from me would be bound to make it worse.
As Luisa came back carrying the cups, I got a look at her left hand. No rings. I slipped a look at Tony. He was fancying her something torrid, but he hadn’t heard what I had.
‘Milk?’ she asked.
‘Thanks.’
‘Sugar?’
‘No, thank you.’
I stirred my cup and said innocently, ‘Have you been out here long?’
‘Most of my life.’ She gave that dazzling smile again. ‘My family settled here at the beginning of the century. They were Spanish. Then, in the fifties, my father came from England, married my mother, and settled down here. So I’m half Spanish, but have an English surname. And no “o” in my Luisa.’
‘How are comms with the UK?’ I asked.
‘They’re terrific now,’ she answered. ‘The telephone used to be terrible. The lines were always jammed, and if you did get through, the interference was impossible. But with satellites, it’s fantastic. We can talk to London as if it were next door. And of course your own satellite phone is incredible.’
We made small talk for a few minutes. Then we heard movement outside, and a solid, stocky man appeared in the doorway, holding a sheaf of papers. He was in his early forties, I guessed, overweight, with neck bulging over collar and gut over waistband.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m John Palmer, Defence Attaché.’
Black was with him, and all four of us went into Palmer’s office. There was nothing difficult to discuss. I reported that everything was going fine down at the camp; apart from the odd attack of gut-rot, all our guys were well and enjoying themselves. There was no friction with the natives. On the contrary, the locals were friendly. Our trainees were responding well to a bit of pressure and would make up into a reasonable BG team. I could see no particular problems coming up.
The news from the other end was less promising. The DA revealed that diplomatic relations between Britain and Colombia were under strain, after the arrest of a Colombian student at Essex University on charges of drug-smuggling. There had been verbal fisticuffs between the two governments, and threats to expel embassy staff at both ends. All this made our own position precarious; it was therefore essential that we did nothing to make the ill-feeling worse.
‘Of course, your presence in the country is entirely unofficial,’ the DA told me. ‘Things might get very difficult if the media reported that you were here.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I told him. ‘Nobody’s planning to sell his story to the Espectador. Our lads are all fairly sensible.’ Privately I was thinking, What sort of a prick is this? What’s he trying to tell me?
After half an hour of rather uneasy chat, we pulled out. As we were leaving, Luisa gave me a card with all the embassy phone numbers on it, including an emergency number, a home number for herself, and one for Major J.R. Palmer, Defence Attaché. On our way out Tony said, as a parting shot, ‘No chance of your keeping us company at supper, I suppose? Show us the sights a bit?’
Again she nearly killed him with that smile, ‘That would be wonderful,’ she said. ‘But as it happens we’ve got a reception on here. I’m on duty. That puts me out, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh well — not to worry. Another time, perhaps.’
Black came down in the lift with us, and on the way I said, ‘I presume you’re invited to the party tonight.’
The light was rather dim, but I’m sure he blushed. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I am.’
We’d decided not to piss about leaving the tower separately. As we started walking, Tony didn’t make any comment for a moment, but then he said, ‘He’s screwing her.’
‘I wondered if I should say something to him. He could fuck up the whole operation.’