Betrayed (29 page)

With two volumes in her hand, Vicki hurried over to the office door, calling as she did so, “Hi, Bill. I’m out here borrowing some books. Sorry—I didn’t hear anyone when I knocked.” She stopped as the door swung open under her touch.

It wasn’t Bill who hadn’t responded to her knock. Joe had been making some repairs because the pottery shelf to her left was slightly out from the wall. Vicki heard again the scraping sound as he finished pushing it back. He dusted his hands off on a rag as he turned around, a frown giving him such a dangerous look that Vicki moved backward.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry. I knocked,” Vicki said defensively. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Actually, I was working and not paying attention.” A step forward left Joe looming uncomfortably above her. “Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just wondering how you got past the guards. They do have a job they’re supposed to be doing."

“I . . . I just walked around the back through the coffee bushes.” Vicki backed into the living room. “I’m sorry. I’m just leaving. Where . . . where’s Bill?”

Joe relaxed at her action, the dangerous look giving way to amusement. Following her into the bigger room, he said mildly, “No need to hurry. Bill ran into the village, but he should be back shortly. ” He nodded toward the volumes in Vicki’s hands. “By all means help yourself. Bill would be disappointed if you don’t take what you want.”

When Vicki didn’t move, the books clutched against her like a shield, he added dryly, “I won’t bite. I promise. It’s just—if you could slip by security so easily, so could someone else. And they might not be as
safe
as you.”

From the sudden twist of his mouth, Vicki knew he was thinking of Bill’s warning. Her tension dissolved to sympathy. “I’m sure Bill didn’t mean all that the other day. He was just kidding around. As I was.”

Joe shook his shaggy head. “Bill Taylor never kids.” His eyes lingered on her face. Then he took a long step backward. “And he’s right. You should stay away from me. If you’ll excuse me.” The office door clicked shut behind him.

Vicki didn’t even look over the titles in her hands. She just grabbed a couple more off the shelf and fled out the back door.

When she returned the books some days later, a Ladino with a shotgun was patrolling the veranda. He’d had orders, though, because while neither American was home, he led Vicki inside to choose fresh reading material.

Vicki didn’t speak to Joe again until a few days later. Restless, she’d taken advantage of the siesta hour after lunch to explore the mountainside above the falls. She’d gone longer and higher than she’d planned, following an animal trail through thinning ground cover toward the top of the ridge. Joe stepped directly into her path.

Vicki hadn’t recognized him at first. In fact, she’d thought he was one of the army troops. Then she realized his camouflage fatigues and cap were the type civilian hunters wore, the weapon in his hand a sporting rifle, a pair of binoculars around his neck.

“You don’t want to go any farther,” he said. “It’s easy to get lost out here without a guide.”

“And you?” Vicki demanded indignantly.

“I know my way.” He didn’t move from her path but waited for her to turn around.

Though she’d been planning to return to the center, it was with a furious flounce that Vicki started back down the trail. Joe followed so close on her heels that she could feel his warmth behind her. She reached the rock face above the falls when he left her, striding off through the trees.

The laborers were hard at work now under the bored surveillance of the guards, stooping and slashing in a thousand repeated gestures as they moved along. The leader had abandoned his usual canvas lounge chair to wander out into the fading twilight. So much planning. So much sweat, if not his own. So much investment.

And now the payoff. Wealth beyond any of his original calculations.

He turned to beckon to the visitor, still standing in the concealment of camouflage netting and forest canopy. An irritant he might be, especially with his constant warnings and caution, but he was useful.

“Did I not tell you all this would be worth it? Come! Why are you so apprehensive? Have you not ensured there will be no more prying eyes?” An expansive arm took in landscape, workers, guards. “You worry too much. A week from now, perhaps two, this will all be finished, and it will no longer matter now many questions are asked.”

“Until next time,” his visitor said.

“Next time we will commit no errors.”

“Next time I won’t bail you out.”

Neither believed the other. Tilting his hat low over his face, the visitor strolled out to survey the scene with satisfaction of his own. It was not wealth this place represented to him.

It was power.

His keen gaze searched the fading twilight. They were out there. He was sure of that now, even had a good idea where. But though he’d searched with every instrument available to him, the evidence they needed was still eluding him.

Should he make the call now?

But that would put a stop only to this time, this place. A way must be found to end this forever. Only then would the sins of the father finally be atoned.

So he would patiently wait and watch, as hard experience had schooled him so well to do.

If only the urgency wasn’t so strong on him that time was running out.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Why is Joe exploring the biosphere?” Vicki asked. “And if he can be out there, why shouldn’t I?”

Cesar handed Vicki the blood sample he’d just drawn from a peccary. “He’s been working on our water source. Perhaps he was following the stream. Besides, he is a man, not a woman. It is not so dangerous for him to travel alone.”

There were infinite responses to this but none that would carry the day in this macho culture. “And the gun? Maybe he’s poaching.”

Cesar looked puzzled at the accusation. “Carrying a weapon in this region is wisdom. There are
bandidos
, if not animals. As to poaching, was he carrying anything?”

“No.”

“In any case, Señor Taylor would know if
el americano
was doing such a thing. Be assured he was simply carrying out a task for Señor Taylor.”

Vicki spoke to Michael more frequently. His responsibilities ranged across Guatemala, even to Washington, DC, but every few days the unwelcome intrusion of helicopter rotors low over the canopy signaled some army and UPN exercise. Within the next hours, Vicki would hear the rumble of an army Jeep, Michael’s quick stride on the gravel.

By his third visit Vicki couldn’t even pretend he’d come only because of the investigation since there was never any news to add. As they sat over coffee in the shelter or strolled out to
Pozo Azul
, Michael drew from Vicki the tranquil happenings of the center and told of his own more exciting activities.

“Thanks to UPN success, Congress has doubled counter-narcotics appropriations for Guatemala. DEA, State Department, local government—they’re all smiling big right now. Enough that UPN is taking over a second army base up in the Petén to patrol the rain forest reserves and Mayan ruins.”

The Petén was the tropical counterpart of Sierra de las Minas in northern Guatemala and home to some of the more spectacular Mayan archeological discoveries.

“This base is a lot closer to Guatemala City, so Alpiro will maintain it as his primary operating base. He’s been in and out of here for months. But as of this week, Alpiro’s taking full command of this base for UPN.”

“And the soldiers?”

“Oh, the army contingent will stay. They’re mainly area recruits doing their required military service, and UPN doesn’t have a large manpower reserve of its own. But they’ll be under UPN command—here and in the Petén. It’s a step to reining the military back under civilian control.”

If UPN could be called civilian
. But Vicki didn’t say that aloud.

Michael went on, “Meanwhile, Guatemala is small enough that with Alpiro’s second-in-command up in the Petén, the helo wing alone should be able to patrol every nature reserve in the country.”

Michael was charming, his smile alone attractive enough to keep Vicki’s ears pricked for a helicopter rotor or a Jeep engine, and flatteringly attentive. So why after more than two weeks did Vicki feel she could no more read what lay behind his eyes than when Holly had first introduced him at the airport?

He says what he does but not what he thinks. I know more of Joe’s opinions, even his past, than I do of Michael’s
.

Nor was Michael ever able to stay long or give any indication when he might be back. Vicki should have been lonely since Rosario and Beatriz ignored her now that her translation services were no longer needed, and Cesar was as silent as ever. But she found the solitude refreshing after the crowds and frantic pace of the last years. The animals were all the companionship she needed. And once the Germans had left, any lingering restlessness found its own outlet.

“So where have these been hiding?” Vicki demanded when Cesar wheeled a mountain bike from one of the locked sheds.

“A New Zealand foundation donated them for environmentally-friendly transportation,” Beatriz informed brusquely.

She'd emerged from her office to take inventory of the supply sheds. “We lock them away when the teams are here. There are not enough for all, and it would only create more work to search for the gringos when they get lost. Cesar, if you are riding to market for Maria, I have a few items for you to bring back as well.”

Vicki registered the empty backpack Cesar was wearing. “May I come along, please? There’re a few things I’d like to look for at the market as well.”

“It is not for me to say yes or no. The bicycles belong to the center. They are free for the use of any of their personnel.” Cesar had mounted his bike but hadn’t moved off.

Choosing to interpret his lingering as an invitation, Vicki grabbed one of three remaining bikes in the shed. She’d ridden only a regular bike around the Andrews farm but quickly discovered the versatility and sheer pleasure of the sturdy, lightweight mountain bike. It made easy work of the bumpy track into Verapaz.

In the days that followed, the bike gave Vicki a new freedom she relished to its fullest.

At first she rode into the village, but the poverty and soldiers were an unpleasant reminder of the world she’d left behind. So she rode instead along trails worn by animal and human feet across the plateau and lower slopes behind the center. Vicki chose the siesta hour when the Guatemalan staff disappeared into their quarters. Since she was always careful to be back by afternoon feedings, no one questioned her activities.

Vicki even made an attempt to follow the biosphere nature trail, but she’d hardly started up the dirt track when one of the army Jeeps that had accompanied their earlier outing came down the trail. Politely but firmly, they’d insisted on giving Vicki and the bike a ride back down to the plateau.

What I need is to find some trails that go over that ridge into the biosphere
. But such a trek would take far longer than her free periods, and Vicki wasn’t unmindful of the dangers of wandering these steep mountains alone.
All I need is to for Beatriz to have to call out a search for me
.

Vicki hadn’t given up either on breaking through Cesar’s reserve. With no one else to help, the Guatemalan veterinarian grew easier with her presence as days passed, even occasionally speaking more than absolutely necessary.

Vicki had finished the feeding and watering one morning when she spotted Cesar mounting his bike. Wandering over, she asked, “Are you heading into market? Do you mind if I ride along?”

“Not to market. To church.”

Days were so much alike up here, Vicki had lost track of the calendar. Yes, this would be her second Sunday since the Germans had left, her third up here in the mountains. It had been five days since Michael’s last appearance. At least two since she’d seen Bill and Joe even at a distance. Feeling restless for human contact, Vicki asked impulsively, “Would you mind if I went with you? That is, if these are okay.” She gestured to the jeans and sweatshirt she was wearing against another drizzly morning. “I didn’t bring much else.”

Cesar wore the same cheap cotton pants and shirt he always wore, but he’d changed into fresh ones since the morning rounds. “You are welcome to come. And they will not care what you wear.” A smile flickered on the thin features. “They do not expect gringos to dress as they do. But it is perhaps very different from the churches you know. It will not all be in español.”

“All the better. I’d like to see what a highland church is like.” Vicki was suddenly eager to escape the center. She hadn’t been to church since she’d accompanied other Casa de Esperanza volunteers to the expat Union Church on one of her Sundays in Guatemala City. And this might even be the opportunity to break through Cesar’s reserve.

Vicki had expected to head into the central plaza, but Cesar turned his bike at one of the thatched homes on the outskirts of the village. A dirt yard held fruit trees and a banana patch. A large pot balanced over an outdoor cook fire, and a hammock hung under an orange tree. She spotted two pairs of solemn black eyes watching from the hammock.

“This is Maria’s home. We’ll leave the bikes here. They will be safer where no one will see them.” Opening a bamboo door, Cesar lifted Vicki’s bike along with his own inside, throwing a burlap sack over it before pulling the door shut. Then he hurried over to the hammock. “Alicia. Gabriela. Why are you not in church?”

The tearful murmur and Cesar’s coaxing answers were in the local Mayan dialect.

“What’s wrong?” Vicki asked.

“They do not wish to leave the house.” Cesar sighed. “They’re afraid they will see the soldiers. They say they want to go home to their own village.”

“Are they okay here by themselves?”

By stateside standards the two were still young enough for a babysitter, but Cesar shrugged. “Maria knows they are here. And the church is only a short distance away.”

Vicki seized the opportunity to introduce her own interest. “You said Maria was your cousin. Is this where you were born then? In this village? No, I guess you couldn’t be since the army built this after . . .” Vicki trailed off.

Cesar finished simply, “Yes, I was brought here from one of the villages that was destroyed. My cousin Maria’s village was destroyed too. She took me in like Alicia and Gabriela many years ago. Not here because this place was not yet built but the refugee camp where I found Tía Maria and where we lived while we built this place.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the army base.

“And your own family? Are they here too?”

His expression went instantly somber. “I was the only survivor of my village.”

“Oh.” Vicki had hoped to ease the conversation somehow to Holly. She
knew
this young highlander had more to say than he was letting out. He
had
to know something useful, because if not, there was nowhere left for Vicki to go in this quest. But his statement was so matter-of-fact, so unbelievable on this quiet, dusty village street with the sun shining, the cook pot simmering deliciously on the fire, a macaw offering glowing color and raucous commentary from an orange branch overhead that Vicki stared at Cesar. “You mean, your village and Maria’s and the girls’—all of them were destroyed? By whom? The army? And why?”

Cesar’s shoulders hunched. “I do not know of the others. I was not there. But in my village, yes, it was the army. They destroyed many villages in these mountains. As to why, they said we were helping
la guerrilla
, that we were all
comunistas
.”

“And was it true? I mean, your village? You had to have been a small child at the time. Is it possible that there was provocation? Maybe not for everything that happened. But why the army thought they had to go in and fight. If there really was a war going on—”