The Infinity Tattoo (19 page)

That evening, Sister Reina returned to their hostel. The three of them took seats in the sitting room of the guesthouse while their hostess prepared coffee and biscuits.

“I got the information you asked me for,” Sister Reina began. They had called her earlier in the day to see what she could find out. “It wasn’t too difficult to track down this man, Roberto Acosta. His full name is Roberto Santiago Sicilia Acosta. His birth was registered in Nicaragua in 1975. He and his parents left Nicaragua after their land was seized by the Sandinistas and immigrated to the United States.”

“So, he was a small child when they left Nicaragua,” Meg said. “Do you know what happened to the family after that?”

“No, I’m afraid not. My connections don’t reach quite that far,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Okay, but we can speculate,” Jack said. “He grows up in the United States and eventually joins the State Department’s regional security office.”

“Yes, but don’t they have background checks or something?” asked Meg.

“Of course,” Jack said. “But he probably had a clean record. He was a naturalized American citizen.”

“Well then, if he’s the leak, why did he do it?” Meg said.

“I don’t have much trouble seeing this happen,” said Sister Reina. “His parents are from Nicaragua, wealthy landowners who lost everything under the Sandinistas. He has probably heard the litany against communism his whole life, from his parents. It was really bad luck that he got assigned to Honduras right before the coup. No doubt he’s a coup sympathizer. He probably has friends here, or maybe friends of the family. It must have been hard to work for the embassy which stood against the coup.”

* * *

After Sister Reina left, Jack and Meg mulled things over. If Roberto was the leak, and they were almost sure he was, then he was their best conduit to Augusto. They began to devise a plan.

“Okay, so we use a little moral-suasion on Roberto and we convince him to get us a face-to-face introduction to Augusto. But I don’t like it. It seems too risky to me,” Meg said.

“Well, of course, there is some risk. We know he’s ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate us. The only thing that’s preventing him is the information we have. I’m sure that’s why those thugs tried to kidnap us, to find out what we know.”

“I don’t know. I would feel better about this if it wasn’t just you and me,” Meg said.

“Maybe Andres could help,” Jack said. “You remember my Honduran colleague who told me where to find Alex’s body. I can try talking to him.”

“And what about Mike, the guy we met a couple of days ago? Isn’t he based at Soto Cano?”

“Good idea. We can ask them both. The worst that will happen is they’ll say no.”

Early the next morning they rented a car and drove to Comayagua, the town nearest the Soto Cano base. They met Andres in a cafe. He was sitting at a table drinking a cup of coffee. When Jack walked up to him, Andres showed no sign of recognition.

“Hello, Andres,” Jack said.

Andres rose from the table and looked him over. “Jack? Is that you? I barely recognized you.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Just a little worse for the wear is all,” he said, then gestured at Meg. “And this my colleague, Meg.”

“
Encantado
,” he said. “Please have a seat. What would you like to drink?”

When they’d settled in at the table, Jack said, “Andres, I need your help.”

“Is this because of . . .” he nodded at Jack’s beaten-up face.

“Yes, it is.” Jack nodded to Meg.

She pulled a photo from her backpack. “Do you recognize these guys?”

“That’s Colonel Rodrigo Pineda,” Andres said, pointing to the man in uniform. “And that man there is Congressman Luis Pedroza.”

“And what about the other man,” Jack said pointing to Augusto. “Do you know him?”

Andres gazed at the photo again, then shook his head.

“Does the name Augusto Garcia mean anything to you?”

“So,” Andres said slowly, “this is Augusto Garcia. I’ve never seen his picture before. Now I have a face to go with the man I despise more than anyone else in this world.’

“The thing is,” Jack said, “we’re in some trouble, Meg and I. Remember when you told me you knew where to find the American journalist’s body?”

Andres nodded. “I warned you to be careful.”

“Yes, you did. And I should have listened. Anyway, when I tried to find out more about it, it seems I got this man’s attention. Now he has his sights set on me and Meg. He wants to silence us. I think he would kill us if he could. We need to get him to call off his dogs. That’s why we ended up coming back to Honduras. That man has a long reach. All the way into the States.”

“Yes, he is very dangerous.”

“So our only hope is to fight fire with fire.”

Andres looked around the cafe, making sure there was no one who could overhear them. “I’m listening.”

* * *

They had to wait until the afternoon to meet Mike. They met him at the same restaurant, this time for a beer. As with Andres, Jack launched into the story of his recent assault and what they were planning to do about it. Before Jack could finish making his plea, Mike interrupted him. “I’m in. Just tell me how I can help.”

* * *

The following morning, Jack made the call to the embassy and listened to the now familiar drill. “You have reached the American Embassy in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. For consular hours, please dial one . . .”

Jack waded through the system until he reached the secretary to the Regional Security Office.

“May I ask who’s calling?” she asked.

“This is Jack Cunningham.”

“And what is this about?”

“Tell him it’s about a mutual acquaintance, Augusto Garcia.”

A few seconds later, the call was put through.

“This is Roberto Acosto. How can I help you?”

“Roberto,” Jack said. “This is Jack Cunningham. I have some information about your old friend Augusto Garcia that you might be interested in.”

“Augusto Garcia?”

“Yes, you know. Garcia, former member of Battalion 3-16 in the 1980s. Currently serving as a consultant for the Honduran Congress. I have photographs of him consorting with high-ranking politicians here in Honduras. Oh, and email communiques implicating him in some illegal activities, that sort of thing. Now I am pretty sure your friend would like to keep this information from hitting the press. He seems to be willing to go to great lengths to get the stuff back, even to the point of killing the messenger, so to speak.”

There was a lengthy silence on the phone. “What do you want?”

“Perhaps we can meet and talk about it. Say, five o’clock this afternoon? Cafe Maria’s?”

“Fine.”

“Oh, and Roberto? I have sent copies of some of the more compromising photographs and correspondences to colleagues in the US. They have very specific instructions what to do with these if we fail to reach them after our little meeting.”

* * *

Meg and Jack arrived at the cafe early. They chose a table tucked away from traffic, but with a clear view of the door. Mike and Andres were already there, sitting at a table at the back where they could keep an eye on proceedings. Even with the insurance of the documents, they were taking no chances. It wouldn’t be the first assassination in a restaurant in Tegus.

Roberto arrived a few minutes after five. He spotted them and took a seat at their table.

“What do you want?” he said without preamble.

“We want a meeting with Augusto.”

Roberto smiled. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m dead serious,” Jack said.

Meg reached into her bag and placed a photo on the table, the one with Augusto and his congressional pals. “I think he’ll want to see us.”

Roberto studied the photograph for a moment. “What makes you think I can arrange such a meeting?”

“Let’s just say we have strong circumstantial evidence that you have been passing information to colleagues outside the embassy. And let’s say if you don’t help us, we will let folks there know about our suspicions.”

“How do I know you won’t tell them anyway?”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust us. But if you don’t help us, we can guarantee we’ll blow the whistle on you,” Jack said.

“I imagine a few phone calls should get us what we want,” Meg added.

“Okay let me see what I can do. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

“No, Roberto. Do it now,” Jack said.”

“But—”

“Right here. Right now. Tell him to meet us at the Intercontinental Hotel.”

Roberto scowled, a slow flush creeping up his neck. He removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.

“Victor,” he said. “Listen, we have a situation . . . well, it’s not something we should talk about on the phone . . . I need to meet with the boss. I know it’s not normally done, but in this case, I think he will want to meet. I’m with a major in the US Army, Jack Cunningham, and a foreign journalist. Her name is Meg Goodwin . . . No, they want to meet him now . . .”

Roberto pressed the end button on his phone. “Victor will call me back.”

They waited. Meg was terrified about what they had just put into motion. But she forced herself to lift her cup of coffee to her mouth, sip, put it down.

A waitress approached the table. Roberto declined to order anything, telling her that they would be leaving shortly.

Their coffee cups were empty by the time Roberto’s phone rang. He answered and listened for a moment, then ended the call.

“Señor Garcia will meet us at the hotel in half an hour.”

Jack glanced across the room at Andres and Mike and nodded almost imperceptibly. Then he said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

It was the longest twenty-five minutes of Meg’s life as they road in a taxi to the Intercontinental Hotel. Jack sat in the front where he could keep an eye on the traffic and the rear view mirror. Meg had no choice but to sit in the back with Roberto. His mere proximity gave her the shivers.

Just before arriving, Roberto’s cell phone rang. He had a brief conversation, then ended the call. The taxi pulled up to the entrance and they entered the lobby.

“Señor Garcia will meet you in a private room.”

Jack looked at Roberto sharply. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Surely you didn’t expect to meet in public? No, he will meet you in private, or not at all.”

They needed to stall long enough for Mike and Andres to get there. Meg reached into her bag, grabbed the first few items that came to hand and dropped them on the floor of the lobby. “How clumsy of me,” she said and knelt down to gather her things.

Roberto glared at her. She glanced at Jack, who gave her a tiny nod. She decided it meant that their colleagues had made it into the lobby.

Jack, Meg, and Roberto took the hallway leading to the elevators. Roberto punched the button to the sixth floor. After a tense and silent elevator ride, he led them down the hall to the room at the far end. He tapped on the door. A few seconds later, it opened.

Meg felt fear crawl up her spine. She had heard so much about this man. He frightened her more than anyone she had ever encountered in her career as a journalist.

* * *

Jack looked out for any sign of his colleagues as they proceeded down the hallway. He had to hope that they caught the floor number on the elevator. But he didn’t see his colleagues. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he could do about it at this point. They entered the sitting room of a well-appointed suite.

Augusto sat in the center of a couch, facing them. He was dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit. His thick silver hair was combed back from his forehead, not a hair out of place. His eyes were hooded, staring at Jack with so much hatred it was palpable. Two well-built men in black suits stood in attendance on either side of him.

Augusto stood and allowed Roberto to make the introductions. He took Jack’s hand, grasping it harder than necessary. Jack squeezed back harder, before releasing the handshake. Then Augusto took Meg’s hand and drew her in for the traditional kiss on the cheek. She stiffened but accepted the greeting.

“Thank you, Roberto, for your assistance,” Augusto said, dismissing the embassy’s regional security officer. Roberto glanced sharply at Augusto, clearly abashed at his cavalier treatment. Then, without looking at Meg or Jack, he did an about-turn and promptly left the room. When the door closed behind him, Augusto turned back to Meg and Jack.

“So . . . we meet at last,” he said. A look of disdain passed over his face as he took in their humble attire. He gestured for them to take a seat.

Jack took Meg’s hand and guided her over to the couch where the old man had been sitting. It was the safest seat in the room. No one could stand behind them and they had views of all doors. Besides, he took pleasure in usurping Augusto’s position.

Augusto gave a sly smile at the maneuver, then took a seat in an armchair facing them. “Can I offer you something to drink?” he said.