Songs for Perri (29 page)

"Then you'll write—”

"No. I won't do anything to help you," Perri declared, still playing with the pendant. Would they think to send it? Tossing her head defiantly, she let it go so that it swung for a moment across her breasts.

They both glared at her. Perri's spirits sagged. The suspense was making her faint, the blood pounding loudly in her ears.

"You'll do as you're told, even if we have to—”

"We'll send her finger," the younger man snarled.

"You want to wait until he checks fingerprints?" Perri retorted, amazed she could get the words past the constriction in her throat.

The older man pulled out a switchblade. "If you won't talk—”

"We'll send her necklace," the younger man declared, triumphantly. "He'll recognize that!" He turned to Perri, lifting his hand threateningly. "Take it off, or we'll cut it off!"

Hands shaking—out of eagerness, not fear—she had difficulty with the clasp. She threw it at the younger man, masking her emotions with feigned anger.

They wrote a note to send with it, setting up the exchange time for midnight. Her hands were re-tied behind her back, and she was gagged again with the hated rag.

Returned to the back room, Perri settled down on the cold floor for a long wait, her face sore and puffy...like bread dough someone had vigorously punched down.

Would the pendant get through? It was and looked valuable...one of a kind. Perri had several times been offered a goodly sum of money for it. If only it didn't get lost or stolen along the way.

Joe would know to open it...if it got to him. There was nothing for her to do but wait.

Dearest Joe...Hugo. What was he really like, when he wasn't playing a part? Would she still love him...as much, or more?

The tiled floor was highly uncomfortable. From time to time she stood up and walked over to the window, looking out, hopefully, yet knowing that if her message did get through and somehow Joe and Walt could find the house, they wouldn't show themselves.

And if it didn't?

Retrieving the nail, Perri sat in the window with her back to the bars and dug at mortar. It was old and crumbly. If she was successful in loosing a couple, would she be able to make herself jump down into the concrete courtyard? And then what would she do?

Closing her mind against the future, she resumed scratching. One thing at a time.

The afternoon dragged on. No one bothered with her. The sun had shifted, throwing the cans into shadow. They would be harder to see.

It made her all the more determined. She stayed at the window, stopping only when her fingers grew tired and she was in danger of dropping the nail. Then she would turn and stare out at the freedom beyond the courtyard, wishing this whole thing over.

Thus it was that she saw Hugo, sitting high up in an open double decker bus, pass slowly by, his eyes searching the houses. Unable to reach through and swing the cans, Perri could only hope he saw them.

The bus passed out of view while Perri watched helplessly. There were other people on it, looking like tourists. Perri wondered how Hugo had gotten the tour bus driver to go up and down the streets...and what the tourists were thinking of such a route.

Since he was adept at talking his way into things—including her heart—he had probably given them a reasonable explanation; even a romantic one.

The day passed...the hours creeping slowly by until Perri sank back in a semi-conscious daze upon the floor. The lack of water, coupled with the strain and effort to loose the bars, made her faint. She had gotten one to wiggle, but it was embedded too deeply to slide out.

It was dark when she was alerted by a series of muted thuds, like someone was digging outside. Then Joe appeared at the window, a prospector’s hammer in one hand. He held a knife through the bars with the other.

"How many are there?" he asked, cutting her free when she eagerly backed up to where he could reach her. Quickly she undid the gag that had cut into her bruised mouth.

"Two. They're watching TV."

"Good. They won't hear us." Bracing himself on the deep window ledge, he pulled a rope up after him and tied it to one of the side bars. After making a loop in the rope to put his foot into, Joe went to work with the hammer, using its point to chip away around the bars. He worked with speed, yet quietness.

"Are you okay? Have they hurt you?" he asked.

"They hit me a few times...when I refused to do what they wanted. But I had to, so they would send the pendant."

"Nothing else?"

"No...they pretty much left me alone."

He wrenched the bars loose. "That was good thinking on their part. Saved their necks." Shoving the bars through the opening, he crawled inside, hugging her against him in a fiercely exulting embrace. She almost cried in relief.

"Let's go; down the rope," he whispered.

Perri hesitated. She knew how far it was to the ground. Maybe she wouldn't jump out of a plane for him after all. "Do I have to?" she asked, her voice magnifying her doubts. It suddenly seemed safer in the room.

"I forgot." He didn't even sound upset. Quickly he pulled the rope up and in. "I'll tie you on and lower you down...real slow. Hurry up."

Obediently she let him tie the rope around her waist and practically shove her through the opening. Then she was dropping through the darkness, eyes closed; spinning slowly, bumping against the wall—

When she had crawled out on the mast, it had been to save his life, not hers. Plus she had been in shock. To do this when fully functional was another matter. She could feel the scream of panic forming in her throat—

Without warning, the rope was released. Her worst nightmare engulfed her as the slow decent became a swift free-fall into the dark void.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Perri's scream changed to an explosive grunt as she was caught, then dropped unceremoniously on the ground. At the same time she heard shots in the room above.

"Over the fence." It was Owen and he didn't wait to untie her, but climbed hand over hand up the rope and through the window.

More shots followed.

She couldn't get the rope untied! Frantically Perri tugged at the knot. Why had he tied it so tight? And what was happening up there? Again there was tension on the rope as someone descended. Ducking, she barely missed getting a shoe in the face.

"Hurry up, love!" It was Hugo...Joe.

"I can't untie—”

"Here." He gave the free end a tug and it released, making her shudder at what now seemed a loose knot. Couldn't he have tied her more securely?

Owen landed beside them. The two men boosted Perri over the wall—the glass at that point having been covered by a heavy canvas—and quickly joined her.

Walt was sitting in a car at the curb and they joined him. The long strain caught up with her, and she began to shake with reaction.

She could barely climb into the vehicle. Both Owen and Joe helped, Joe climbing in first, then lifting her up and cradling her across his lap, his arms— Hugo's arms— strong around her... comforting and secure.

"Let's go directly backstage," he suggested, and Owen drove off at a good clip along the edge of town and back toward the hotel.

After Perri managed to stop her chattering teeth, she said, "I take it...you got the pendant." Her mouth was still dry.

"Right." Walt pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Hand delivered; but by a boy so young he couldn't describe the man who paid him to bring it. Owen came over as soon as we discovered you were gone."

"Thanks, Owen."

"Glad I could help for a change. Walt told them we had to have positive proof they had you, thinking to buy time. As soon as we got the pendant, Joe looked inside."

"Clever child," Joe said, his praise warming her. "Should we make her an agent?" he teased.

"No!" Walt and Owen spoke together, with Perri's "No" quickly tacked on behind.

"I agree," Joe said, chuckling at the quickness of their reply.

"They used Anna to get me to open my door. Is she all right?"

Joe's expression hardened, grim. "I'm afraid not. They knifed her and left her for dead."

"Oh, no!"

"I thought it was you, when I first saw her." He paused, his face bleak. "A moment I don't care to relive. I patched her up, took her to the hospital. She was still alive when I last heard."

"But why...?"

"No witnesses, love. She had seen them."

"So had I."

"Right."

The cold certainty with which he spoke made Perri tremble. The nightmare was continuing. She pressed closer into the shelter of his arms. "What happened up there?"

"They opened the door as I started to lower you. I had to get my gun out to shoot. I was faster than them, but only because I dropped you. Was it bad?"

"Bad enough. Owen caught me."

"Thanks, Owen. You came in just in time."

"Anytime."

Perri breathed in relief. To be back in Hugo's arms, after such an ordeal, was wonderful.

She didn't like being used as a hostage or a punching bag. It had been pure luck that the man had decided to send her pendant.

"What would you have done?" she asked, mentioning the exchange.

"Luckily, we didn't have to plan anything. But I'd probably have dressed up as Alvaro and tried to fool them until we got you close enough where Owen could grab you," Joe stated matter-of-factly. "It could have turned nasty."

Perri shuddered. Danger was part of his job. He and Owen could easily lose their lives.

His arm around her had not lessened its comforting presence, the grip as secure as when they had first entered the car. That also was part of his job. She needed to keep that in mind.

Perri rested her bruised face against his shoulder, feeling the bandages he still wore wrapped around his ribs. He was holding her securely, but it could be just in comradeship...not love. Not after what Walt had said.

Walt and Owen and Joe. The three men she loved. All in the same dangerous business. At least they would help protect each other...when they could.

Would she be able to clamp down on her new knowledge of what their job was like...and be able to watch them go out on assignments, without going to pieces? Would she be able to dredge up enough prayer — and humor — to survive the worry?

Did anyone ever retire from this job?

She asked the last question and all three assured her that agents retired all the time and took up other forms of work. Safer work; like being policemen or high-rise steel workers. They also informed her that the most dangerous occupations were farming and fishing. Their answers made her feel they knew why she had asked.

They talked idly among themselves, commenting on the bull fights and Mazatlan in general and Perri struggled to enter the conversation and keep it light.

Owen drove back to the restaurant to pick up Alvaro's tracking device, while the others entered the hotel by a back entrance. When Owen returned, and he and Joe secured the device into a large amplifier built especially to transport such items. Walt doctored Perri's face as best he could with cold compresses and aspirin.

Later, Joe transformed Owen into Hugo and back again, teaching him the mannerisms and tone of voice that accompanied that character.

Owen was good enough to pass all but a very close inspection and left wearing an old wide-brimmed hat to help disguise himself. He carried Hugo's wig, contacts, leather jacket, dark glasses and passport in a small satchel. As soon as Joe and the others picked up Alvaro Sunday morning, he'd return to this room as "Hugo" to fly out with the band on Monday.

"We'll take you out with us, Perri," Walt explained. "I daren't let you try to fly alone, and I don't want attention drawn to the band. We'll use Owen's car. He just got it. It can't be traced to anyone."

Joe changed to Donegal. The long wig effectively hid his short hair, transforming him once again into the cocky entertainer with blue eyes and southern drawl.

All went smoothly. After the show was over, Donegal changed back into Joe and they went up to Hugo's room. It was still undisturbed. They moved Perri's things in through the connecting door. She watched as Hugo locked it securely from both sides.

"You had a key to my room," she accused him, suddenly realizing it. Walt had gone into the bathroom and she felt free to voice her anger.

"Yes," he admitted. "I rented it as a suite, telling them you'd pay for your half when you arrived."

"Of all the...! So that was how you were able to get the envelopes in. I wondered about that."

"I had to be able to check on you."

The invasion of her privacy angered her greatly, out of all proportion to what happened. She knew she was being unreasonable, but it was the last straw. "And my credit card?"

"Sorry about that. I have it. Here." He pulled out his wallet and handed it to her.

"Why?"

"Walt asked me that, too. I took it on the spur of the moment, thinking it would make it easier to get to know you. Walt said, ‘No,’ he wanted you to go right home, so he gave you the money...which I placed in your room while you slept."

"You and Walt," she fumed. "With all your clever little games. I'm glad this is almost over. I hate all the lying and deception. It makes me feel unclean."

His face hardened. "It has to be done."

He looked hurt, and she had to steel herself against sympathy. "Not by me. Not anymore."

He turned away abruptly, his fists clenched and she flung her suitcase onto his bed and started to pack. Walt reappeared, and for his sake, both she and Hugo switched into neutral.

A call to the hospital revealed that Anna's condition had improved greatly. The doctor was very impressed with the first aid she had received, saying it had saved her life.

Walt, Joe and Perri smiled at one another, relieved that their troubles hadn't killed an innocent person.

With everything ready for an early morning departure, they settled down for four hours of rest. Perri insisted on curling up in the chair in Hugo's room while the two men stretched out on the bed.

"I don't have to be on the alert tomorrow; you do," she pointed out and conceding the point, the two were asleep as soon as they lay down.