He looked past her, through the wooden balustrades of his room’s veranda. On the other side of the road was a park, and a few hundred yards beyond that, a large stone structure that looked like a fortress from an earlier era. The rock-walled citadel sat on the shoreline of an immense lake.
“Lake Izabal,” she said, as if anticipating his question. “It empties into the Río Dulce, which means ‘sweet river.’ The area around here is named for the river.”
Luke got up from the bed and walked to the window.
She pointed at the stony fortress. “That’s Castillo San Felipe. It sits at the mouth of Lake Izabal. This is where the lake empties into the Río Dulce.”
She told him about the castle’s history. He nodded occasionally as she went on about pirates, Spanish conquistadors, and trading ships in the sixteenth century.
What interested him had nothing to do with its history. The castle sat on a promontory, an outcrop of land surrounded by water on three sides. By land, the only approach was across the manicured lawns and open spaces of the park. From the battlements atop the castle’s walls, he realized that a single lookout could spot anyone approaching the fortress.
She turned to him. “You don’t look well. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll call you when I’m settled in a hotel.”
“I thought you were going home?”
“My home is in Bogotá, Colombia. I came to Guatemala to teach at the university, but from the time I joined Zenavax, I have lived at the lab.” She shrugged. “I will need a place to stay for the next several days, but I do not think I should rent another room at this hotel. We have already registered as a family.”
She was right. His enemies had probably already found the truck they ditched on the highway outside of town. They’d be searching for him, asking questions, and willing to pay for answers. Anything unusual, like a wife sleeping apart from her husband in a second room, could lead the killers to them.
She picked up her purse as though preparing to leave. “Please understand, though. I cannot sit in a hotel room forever. Sooner or later I must call my company and tell them what has happened. Perhaps I should make that call now. They can bring the authorities into this.”
“No!”
Luke immediately raised a hand by way of apology. “Kate’s killer knew when and where she was going to meet me. That means someone was monitoring her communications. If you call your U.S. office, whatever you say is probably going to find its way to the killers. Even if Zenavax has nothing to do with this bloodbath, it’s still not safe to call your company.”
“Then we should go to the authorities here.”
“The Guatemalan Minister of Health intervened to stop Josue Chaca’s autopsy. Somebody in the Health Ministry is either involved or being paid to look the other way.”
“We cannot hide here forever. Eventually, we must go to the police.”
“Not until I find Megan.”
She was looking at his hands, which he realized had tightened into fists.
He grabbed the large duffel bag, pulled out two identical metal-framed cases, and handed one to Rosalinda. “We’ll use these to contact each other.” They were the satellite phones from her lab. “Call me as soon as you get settled. If I’m not here, leave a message for yourself at the front desk. Say your name is Julia, let me know where you’re staying. Later, I’ll send Frankie over to your hotel. Get him onto a bus after you get those medicines for his mother.”
Her eyes were studying him. “I hope you find her. Your friend Megan.”
He returned her gaze. “Be careful, Rosalinda. I’ve been dealing with these people. They don’t leave loose ends. And if anything happens to me, get out of Guatemala. Get to the U.S. or go home to Colombia. Then go to the police. And don’t just tell some government bureaucrat. Tell the newspapers. The more public this becomes, the safer you’ll be.”
“Right now, I wish not to think anymore about this.” She started toward the door. “I will call you later.”
As soon as she was gone, Luke pulled off his shirt and examined his wounds. There was a blistered track near his left elbow where the bullet had grazed him. The skin was burned but would heal. The deep gash in his shoulder, though, had become badly infected. A growing circle of red was spreading outward from its edges and the wound was beginning to weep.
Luke collapsed backward onto the mattress, giving in to the fever he had ignored for the past several hours.
A minute later there was a knock on the door. “Boss, I here.”
When Luke opened the door, the boy was holding two white plastic bags. One was filled with an assortment of candies, two packages of corn tortillas, and a small brown paper bag. The other held three liters of beer and some bottled water. A child’s version of essential food groups.
He felt Frankie’s eyes studying him. “Cerveza — you like?”
“I like.” The truth was, he didn’t drink beer.
Luke grabbed the small brown bag. Inside was gauze, tape, antimicrobial ointment, and a bottle of antibiotic pills labeled CEFALEXINA. Luke swallowed one of the large orange pills, then another. He had given Frankie a list of pharmacy items he wanted, knowing that most pharmacies in Latin American countries sold drugs without a prescription. He had written “Cephalexin.” He hoped that Cefalexina was the Spanish equivalent.
“What your name is?” the boy asked.
“You know my name.”
Frankie shook his head. “Es falso.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You say Edward to Padre Tomas. You say Luke to Rosalinda.” Frankie fingered his lip with one hand while pointing at Luke’s face with the other. “Y esta es falso.”
Luke reached up and felt a dry edge of the “scar” peeling from the skin under his nose. “My real name is Luke, but you can’t tell anyone.”
“Why I no can tell?”
“It’s complicated.” He suddenly felt light-headed and a chill swept over him.
“You okay, boss? You no look good.”
Luke motioned to the bed and the two of them sat.
“Frankie, don’t you miss your mother?”
The boy played with his fingers. “You want I go home, yes?”
Luke nodded.
Frankie’s fingers tangled into a knot. “I no want to be there when she dies.”
So, the boy knew. Luke wasn’t surprised.
“I need to get some sleep.” Luke grabbed a section of his bedcovering and wiped the sweat from his face. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“What is it, Elmer?” Ben swung his front door open. “Is this about Luke? Have you heard something?”
“No.” The old man’s eyes had a faraway look as he crossed the threshold. “Still no word.”
Elmer didn’t drive, so traveling across town to Ben’s home entailed either a taxi or a long bus ride. Ben knew that if his need was simply to talk to a friend, he would have called.
Something was up.
“Is this about Barnesdale?” Ben asked as they walked into the living room.
Elmer shook his head as he dropped onto a couch.
Not only was Elmer living with the agony of a missing son from whom he’d heard nothing, the man had to deal with knowing glances and whispered comments that followed him wherever he went around the hospital. The news media had all but convicted Luke in absentia for both Erickson’s and Barnesdale’s murders. The strain showed in Elmer’s face.
Elmer pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Ben. “Look at this.”
Ben sat down next to his friend and studied the document for several seconds. “It’s a lab printout — I can see that. Why are you showing it to me?”