Escape Out of Darkness (14 page)

“Does that mean we don’t have to be careful?”

“That means we have to sleep with only one eye open instead of two,” she said, dropping her towel on the bed and reaching for her one set of clean clothes. “When’s dinner coming?”

“Half an hour.”

“Then I’ll go out and see if I can find us something else to wear. My jumpsuit has seen better days.”

“I may have ripped all the buttons off it,” he agreed smoothly.

“I think you ripped the whole damned thing apart,” she said, pulling on her jeans. “Will you wait here for me?”

Again the request, not the order. “You don’t have to be that
polite, Maggie May,” he drawled. “Yes, I’ll stay put. Just don’t come back with turquoise Jockey shorts this time.”

“I promise. Maybe tiger-striped ones.”

Mack was in the shower when she returned. Her excursion had been more than successful. There was no sign of any rebels in the area, and the desk clerk had been more than helpful. The plans were simple, straightforward, and already made. It would be interesting to see how Mack responded.

“We’re all set,” she announced when he came dripping into the room. “We’re meeting with Lieutenant Mendoses of the ACSO tomorrow morning. He’ll have maps, information, guns, and a Jeep.”

Mack nodded. “And you trust him?”

“No. I’ve found out where there’s another gun shop, and I thought we’d rent our own Jeep and switch when we get out of sight. But I think he’ll tell us the truth about Van Zandt. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain by helping us. Van Zandt and his bosses aren’t going to like the RAO’s attempt.”

“Why not? I’d think the CIA would like nothing better than for us to disappear.”

“Disappear, yes. Gunned down on the streets of Tegucigalpa, no. We’ll get to Van Zandt, sooner or later.”

“We still have no guarantees he’ll be able to help us.”

“We have no guarantees of anything. If worse comes to worse, we can always fly to one of the Bay Islands and hole up for a while.”

Mack smiled—a slow, sexy smile. “Why don’t we skip Van Zandt and go directly to Option B? I’d much rather lie on a warm beach with you than chase around guerrilla-infested jungles.”

“That’s not all these jungles are infested with,” she said dryly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. Dinner’s here.”

“How do you know it’s dinner and not some unfriendly rebels?”

“Because I can smell the roast chicken,” Maggie said. “Trust me, Mack. Right now we’re safe.” And she opened the door to General Enrique Castanasta.

It would have been nice if she’d seen whether the gun shop was still open, she thought as she surveyed her nemesis with opaque eyes. She would have felt a hell of a lot more secure if she had a gun within reach. Castanasta was carrying enough artillery for half a dozen men, wearing handguns and knives like medals around his uniform. It took only one furtive glance to ascertain that he was alone, the hallway behind him deserted. And there was no gun in his hand.

“General Castanasta,” Maggie said with ironic courtesy, “what a pleasure to see you again. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“We can waste time fencing, Senora Bennett, or you can invite me in and we can come directly to the point.” There was no answering polite smile on his face.

“Or we could come directly to the point without inviting you into our room,” she said sweetly. “I think I like that option the best. That way if you decide to finish what you started this afternoon, there will be witnesses.”

“Senora Bennett, you know as well as I do that if I had really wanted you and Senor Pulaski dead, nothing would have stopped me. A machine gun and armed soldiers against two civilians on foot is a very uneven match.”

Maggie nodded, having come to the same conclusion. “So you just decided to scare the hell out of us, General? For what purpose?”

“If you would care to invite me in, I might tell you.”

Maggie found herself in the midst of a paralyzing struggle. On the one hand, she wanted to turn and get Mack’s opinion. On the other, she was still fighting like crazy having to rely on anyone else. So she stood there, motionless, fighting herself, until common sense finally reared its ugly head. It was Mack’s life, after all. He deserved some say in the matter.

“One moment, please,” she said to the general with exaggerated politeness, closing the door in his face. She turned to Mack, leaning against the door. “What do you think? Should we let him in?”

Mack stood there, staring at her for a long moment. And then he crossed the room, caught her face in his strong, warm hands, and kissed her full on the mouth. “Sometimes, Maggie,” he whispered, “you absolutely amaze me.”

She fought the treacherous warmth that swept over her. “That still doesn’t answer my question, Mack,” she said, keeping her voice stern.

“Sure, have him in. I don’t think he’d come out in public if he was planning to murder us.”

Maggie reopened the door, gesturing the general in with a flourish. The one bed was a wreck of tangled sheets and tossed pillows, and Mack was still casually buttoning his shirt, his feet bare, his eyes bland. There was clearly no question as to what the two of them had been doing all afternoon, and Maggie met the general’s quizzical expression with a look almost of defiance.

“Senor Pulaski,” he greeted him. “We were not properly introduced earlier today, but I of course know who you are.”

“Of course,” said Mack in his rasping voice.

“The question is, how are we to get you two safely to Chicaste?”

“Why would we wish to go to Chicaste?” Maggie perched on the wide dresser, her eyes never leaving Castanasta’s hands in case they felt like straying to one of the guns strapped around his torso.

“Because that is where the CIA has set up military training
camps. And that is where Van Zandt has been serving as an adviser, off and on for the last three years.”

That was also the name of the town that had escaped her memory, Maggie had to grant him that much. “You intend to help us?” She didn’t bother to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“I intend to help you, senora. If you were to meet with Mendoses and follow his instructions, I doubt you would make it as far as Danli.”

“Lieutenant Mendoses didn’t send armed men to chase us through Tegucigalpa,” Mack said, sitting down on the bed and pulling on his shoes. Maggie took a moment to notice that he, too, kept his attention on Castanasta’s weapons.

Castanasta hesitated for a moment. “I will, as you say, lay my cards on the table. You know that the RAO and the ACSO are bitter rivals. What you don’t know is that the ACSO was behind the drug deal that Senor Pulaski so unfortunately stumbled into. They are riddled with informers, incompetents, and traitors, and we of the RAO want nothing to do with them. Unfortunately we have certain agreements. And one is that you were to be disposed of if you made an appearance. Your knowledge is very embarrassing to the ACSO.”

“Sorry about that,” Mack said.

“However, I have no desire to serve as executioner for those fools. We put up a good show, my men, eh? I think the ACSO was convinced we tried our best to eliminate you. We have no quarrel with you, senor, nor do we have any stake in keeping you alive. We do, however, have need of getting in touch with the training camp, and we are willing to assist you in return for you being the bearer of certain information.”

“Why don’t you send one of your own men?” Maggie questioned sharply.

Castanasta spread his hands. “Again I will be honest and tell you something that you probably already know. We are very short of men. We have no more than eight stationed in Tegucigalpa, and I can spare none of them.”

“And how many do you have in Chicaste? Not two thousand, as you told me earlier.”

“Not even two hundred, senora. We need money quite desperately, and we have been waiting for Van Zandt to bring it.”

“Bring it from where?” Maggie demanded.

“Don’t you mean from whom?” Mack interjected.

She considered glaring at him, then thought better of it. “You’re right, I mean from whom. If it’s coming from my country, I want to know who’s sending it. The last military aid package was voted down, thank God, and …” Belatedly she realized that opinion wouldn’t go over too well with the man in front of her, but he just shook his head.

“I already know that you don’t approve of our revolution, senora. It is of no concern to me, as long as you do not interfere.”

“Unlike Van Zandt and his ilk, I have no intention of interfering with the internal politics of countries other than my own,” she said in a lofty tone of voice. “What you do is your concern.”

“Gracias,” Castanasta said ironically. “And you needn’t worry—the money does not come from your government, it comes from private sources.”

“Sure it does,” Mack drawled.

“So what do you want from us? I trust you don’t expect us to be couriers, bringing the money back to you.”

“No, senora. In return for directions to Chicaste we only want you to pass a message along. They will send one of their men back to us.”

“And we should trust you?” Maggie questioned, irony deep in her voice.

“You have very little choice, senora.”

“I have Lieutenant Mendoses. I only have your word for it that he wants us dead.”

“You trust Lieutenant Mendoses even less than you trust me, and rightly so,” Castanasta said with a fair amount of acuity. “You know I’m right. We could have killed you this afternoon,
and we didn’t. What guarantee do you have that Mendoses will grant you the same?”

It was unanswerable. Maggie sat there, still and watchful, her expression giving none of her inner uncertainty away. It would be a shot in the dark, a blind choice that she could only hope was the right one. Common sense told her to trust neither group, but common sense also told her that they would never find Van Zandt without trusting someone. And her instincts, instincts that so far hadn’t played her false, told her Castanasta was the lesser of two evils.

She turned to look at Mack, wishing there was some way she could communicate with him. His eyes met hers, and he gave her a short, understanding nod. “Better the devil you know,” he said in the tone of one agreeing with her, and she had to wonder how he could read her mind so well after so short an acquaintance.

She turned back to Castanasta. “All right.”

“It is settled, then. At what time were you to meet with Mendoses?”

“Eleven.”

“We will meet at seven-thirty at Parque Central. Too early for the ACSO to be up and about,” he said with a sneer. “I will provide a Jeep, guns, food, and maps. Better than what Mendoses could come up with, I promise you. You will be out of Tegucigalpa before they even realize you are gone.”

“Sounds delightful,” Maggie murmured. There was a sudden knocking at the door, and the speed with which Castanasta went for his gun was impressive enough that Maggie knew she could have stood little chance against him had he decided to move against the two of them.

A voice behind the door called out “room service” in Spanish, and this time Maggie really could smell the chicken.

“Relax, General,” she said, sliding off the dresser and moving toward the door. “It’s just dinner.”

Reluctantly, he reholstered his pistol. “One can never be too careful in this part of the world, senora,” he murmured. “I will
leave the two of you to your meal. Until tomorrow.” He passed the white-jacketed waiter without a second glance.

The two of them watched in silence as the dark-skinned, polite young man set a table for them, all neatness and flourishes and deferential silence. Maggie stood there, her appetite completely vanished, wanting nothing more than to have a chance to talk with Mack, and still the young man lingered.

“Gracias, gracias,” she said finally, shooing him away when he was about to open the wine Mack had ordered. She stuffed a wad of pesos in his hand. “
Basta
, gracias.”

The young man nodded, smiling his friendly open smile as she pushed him toward the door. She was just about to shove him through when his body suddenly turned stubborn, and he turned that smiling, innocent face on her. “Watch out for Castanasta,” he said in perfect, unaccented English. “He is not much better than Mendoses.” And then he was gone.

Maggie stared after him, momentarily numb with surprise. She contemplated racing after him, but he was gone before she could gather her wits around her.

She closed the door behind her, shaking her head. “Damn,” she said. “I’m beginning to get very confused.”

“Beginning?” Mack echoed. “Who the hell was that, anyway?”

“CIA, I presume,” she said, pushing away from the door. “Did you order this much?” The table was filled with enough covered dishes to serve half a dozen people.

“I didn’t think so. Maybe my Spanish isn’t as good as I thought.” He leaned forward, tipped the cover of one of the dishes, and smiled. “Now this is a meal I can enjoy.”

Resting on a clean white napkin was a large handgun, army issue, neat, efficient, with no frills. Just a straightforward killing machine, Maggie thought as she picked it up. “What else did he bring?”

“Another gun, ammunition,” Mack announced, uncovering the dishes one after the other. “Maps, papers, what looks like car keys. And chicken, thank God.”

“So now we’ve got a third option,” Maggie said, reaching for the neatly folded paper and opening it. “We can go with the ACSO, the RAO, or the CIA.”

“More alphabet soup,” Mack said, digging into the chicken. “I hope you don’t mind if I start without you? I’m starving.”

“Go right ahead,” she said absently. “I think we go with the CIA. This is from Bud Willis.”

“Who’s Bud Willis?”

“Ex-CIA. A friend of Van Zandt’s, stationed down here. Doing his bit to help out bloodshed wherever he can find it,” she said bitterly. “He’s in Chicaste, and says he can get us to Van Zandt.”

“You believe him?”

“He’d have no reason to lie. He doesn’t give a damn who does what as long as he gets paid. He’ll get us to Van Zandt, all right, if I offer him enough money.”

“Sounds good,” Mack said, his strong white teeth making short work of the roasted chicken. And then suddenly he stopped eating. “You know, I just thought of something,” he said, dropping the half-chewed bone back on his plate.

“What?” she inquired absently, holding the map in one hand and her own piece of chicken in the other.

“I must be building up quite a tab with Third World Causes, Ltd. I have a comfortable amount of money, but I don’t know how far it’s going to go.”

Maggie grinned. “I never thought of that. Maybe I should have Beverly in the front office send you a bill before we go any farther. We can just stay put until you pay the first installment. I’d better warn you, I’m pretty expensive. I don’t want you fainting when you get the bill.”

“I think I’ll manage. What if we get back and find I’m broke?” He retrieved his chicken leg.

“Then you’ll have to work it off,” Maggie said. “I think my mother needs her pool cleaned. That should take care of part of my consulting fees.”

“Speaking of consulting—who do we trust, Maggie? I agree
with you, I think we should go with the CIA. That’s what Van Zandt is, so it should give us a bit of a head start. Unless you want to reconsider the Bay Islands.”

“Later. We’ve got to cross our fingers that our search will end in Chicaste. Then we can think about lying on a beach somewhere.”

“Yes, boss. I hate to tell you, but I’ll be thinking about it anyway.”

“So will I, Mack,” she said. “So will I.”

It was a different white-coated waiter who retrieved the empty dishes, one who spoke no English and lacked their previous waiter’s innocent smile. Maggie tipped him heavily in her relief.

Mendoses expected them at eleven, Castanasta at seven-thirty. The maps were skillful and well-marked, and they decided to leave in the dead of night. “In which case,” Maggie said, “we should get some rest even if we can’t sleep. The main part of our journey is on what passes for highways down here, so we’ll be able to navigate with a flashlight.”

Maggie continued, “We go first to Danli, which seems to be a good-sized city. Then to El Paraíso, and then through the jungle to Chicaste. We’re supposed to be hunters, which will account for our guns and our going to out-of-the-way places.”

“What are we supposed to be hunting with handguns?”

“Apparently there’s lots of game in the area.”

“Like what?” he demanded suspiciously. “Nice, harmless stuff like foxes and rabbits, I hope.”

“And doves, though they’re out of season.”

“Doves? Who the hell would shoot doves?”