Trading Secrets (21 page)

“You know very well the man won’t even talk to anyone else. He’s made it very clear that it’s you or no one,” Coyne grumbled, sitting down on the bed to fix August with a severe, disapproving frown. The hapless Arthur was ignored completely now.

Matt swirled the whiskey in his glass, sliding his feet off the table. “Then you’d better make up your mind, Coyne. If you want me to meet with him and set this thing up, you’ll have to agree to let me handle it my way. And for the record, you’re only going to get one more chance to do it my way. Another screw-up like tonight and the whole deal’s off.” Without waiting for a response he got to his feet and started toward the door.

“Hey, what about my hands?” Arthur yelped.

Matt paused at the door and glanced back disinterestedly. “Maybe Coyne has something useful like a pair of scissors in his briefcase that you can use.”

Coyne got to his feet, his normally bland voice carrying the first traces of genuine urgency. “That’s enough, August. You’re being completely unreasonable about this. For the kind of money I’m paying you, I expect you to take orders!”

“Then you’d better find someone else to do your dirty work.” Matt’s hand closed over the doorknob.

“All right,” Coyne snapped. “We’ll do it your way. We don’t seem to have a great deal of choice in the matter. Set up another rendezvous and go alone, if you must. I think it’s stupid and totally against the book to operate in this fashion, but if that’s the only way you’ll do it …”

“It is.” Matt regarded him sardonically. “Stupid is telling Valdez that I’m coming alone and then showing up with a tail. That’s the kind of stupidity that could get me killed or at the very least glitch the whole situation. I’ve promised him an arrangement that’s on the level. If I can’t deliver, I won’t deliver. Understood?”

Coyne drew a deep breath. “You’ve made yourself very clear, August. What you don’t seem to understand is that you have no need to know all the details of this operation. You are out of line in your insistence on doing things your way. There are matters involved here about which you have no knowledge.”

“That’s exactly what I’m beginning to worry about. I’m no longer in the Army, Coyne, as you’ve noticed. I won’t work blind.” Matt went out the door, shutting it gently behind him.

“Can you find something to cut through these damn straps?” Arthur asked, wriggling uselessly. “They’re starting to cut off my circulation. I don’t know why he had to go and tie me up like this. I told him who I was and that I worked for you.”

“I’m sure he did it for effect,” Rafferty Coyne mused, his eyes on the door. “To make a point, so to speak. Just as he did by sneaking you into this room tonight. He has strict orders not to be seen with me.”

“Yeah, well he’s made it. I won’t try to tail him through a jungle at night anytime real soon.” Arthur grunted. “He’s good, Coyne. One minute I knew he was ahead of me. The next I’d lost him. He just sort of melted away. When I turned back to find the jeep he popped out of the brush behind me. With a knife.”

“I fear our Mr. August may prove a bit more difficult than I had hoped,” Coyne said almost to himself.

“Well, he sure intends to protect Valdez. Says if everything’s not as stipulated in the contract, whatever that means, he won’t complete it.”

“I was rather hoping that
August’s
military mentality would prevail. I had assumed that he would still follow orders, even if he didn’t approve of them. It appears that he may have grown very undisciplined during the past couple of years.”

“I don’t know about undisciplined, but I do know he’s still pretty lethal with a knife. Can you get these straps, Mr. Coyne?”

Coyne waited a moment longer, thinking things over in silence, and then he walked across the room to the phone. “I wish to make a call to the States,” he said into the receiver. “Yes, yes, I have government authorization. I’ll hold while you check with Colonel Rivera.” There was a lengthy pause and then the operator asked for the rest of the information. “The call is to a Mr. Griffin in Dallas, Texas. I have the number when you’re ready.”

It seemed to take forever, but eventually Griffin was on the line, his voice cool and serious as he greeted Coyne. “How’s it going?”

“Reasonably well, but there are some complications developing,” Coyne responded. “I believe we will resort to taking out the insurance we spoke of before I left for Buena Ventura.”

“How soon?”

“You may proceed immediately.”

“What about the woman?”

“When you have the boy you will send her the message we discussed,” Coyne’s tone was impatient. “She’ll then assume the boy’s mother has him and will cease to worry or make embarrassing inquiries.”

“So August is making life difficult?” Griffin asked. “I was afraid of that.”

“Everything is under control at this end,” Coyne said tightly. “Just see to it that you follow orders at that end.”

“Yes, Mr. Coyne.”

Coyne hung up the phone and turned to Arthur. “You may leave now. I don’t need you at the moment.”

“Uh, what about these straps, Mr. Coyne?”

***

Sabrina ripped open the dull-brown envelope with an impatient flourish. “I swear, Alex, if the IRS doesn’t leave me alone, I’m going to move out of the country. They’ve got absolutely no right to hound honest citizens like this. That’s the trouble with granting a little authority to people. They go crazy with it. All power corrupts, or something like that. One more letter from them and I’ll—” She broke off, staring in amazement at the contents of the form letter. “Alex, listen to this, it’s a letter of apology. Apology, Alex!”

“So read it to me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone getting a letter of apology from the IRS.”

“It starts out ‘Dear Taxpayer.’ ”

“Oh, the personal touch.” Alex continued dusting the row of small glass bubbles that contained tiny replicas of a bronco-busting cowboy. Experimentally he turned one over just to see if the snow inside still floated down properly. It did.

“It goes on to say they admit they made a mistake and that they’re refunding that last penalty payment I made.” Sabrina studied the wording of the letter in detail. “A check will be sent to me promptly under separate cover.” She crushed the letter to her bosom and closed her eyes in simulated ecstasy. “I’m free, I’m free.”

“They hadn’t actually gotten around to imprisoning you yet.”

“No, but things were getting sticky. They sent a couple of idiots in blue suits after me the other day. Tried to corner me in a supermarket parking lot, claiming they wanted to ask a few questions. Hah!”

“You didn’t answer them, I trust?” Alex went on to dust the oversized reproductions of the badges once worn by Texas Rangers.

“Of course not. I know my rights. It was harassment, pure and simple. Told them to talk to my accountant.”

“Did that satisfy them?”

“I didn’t stick around to find out.” She stuffed the letter back inside the envelope. “Well, at least they’re out of my hair. Life may be looking up, after all.”

“You and Brad are coexisting?”

“It’s touch-and-go at times, but I think we’re going to make it.” Sabrina sighed. “The rough part was figuring out what to do with him all day long while I’m at work. Those classes I signed him up for in the mornings are working out all right, though, and he’s being very good about having to spend most of the afternoons here in the mall.”

“That’s because you’re bribing him with an endless supply of quarters for the arcade machines.” Alex grinned.

“I’m not proud. I’ll use whatever works. I figure I can bill his father later.”

“Brad doesn’t mind the classes every morning?”

“Well, we had a few philosophical differences over exactly which classes he should take,” Sabrina hedged. “I suggested flower arranging, modern dance, and painting.”

“And he chose … ?”

“Karate, wilderness survival—the basics and principles of bow-and-arrow hunting.”

“Sounds like a reasonable compromise.” Alex chuckled.

“Actually, I was thinking of trying to broaden his horizons a bit. The boy’s too focused on all the nasty macho-oriented interests. You should see the kind of magazines he reads.”

“I saw. He was reading some of them while he waited for you yesterday.”

Sabrina drummed her fingers on the glass-topped case containing the array of ashtrays. “What he really needs is some exposure to the more civilized side of life, Alex. And he needs a man to guide him toward those things. If I try, he loses interest immediately on the grounds that whatever I want him to be exposed to is too ‘feminine.’ If he went to the ballet with a man, though, he might see that it was okay to be interested in dance. Or if he went to the art museum with a man, he might understand that art was a suitable interest for a male. See what I mean?”

“I see trouble coming.” Alex sighed. “You’re leading up to something that’s not in my job description.”

“Alex, this would be an act of friendship,” Sabrina admonished. “I just happened to remember this afternoon that you’re going to see the ballet tonight and I said to myself—”

“Why not get good old Alex to baby-sit,” Alex concluded.

“I just think he needs some exposure to other things in life besides knives and karate,” Sabrina insisted stubbornly. “Will you take him with you this evening? You know he likes you.”

“You think he’ll go when he finds out what the tickets are for?”

“If you promise him a hamburger first, I think so.”

“What are you going to do this evening?” Alex asked curiously.

“Sit home and relax. Do you realize this will be the first time I’ll have had the apartment to myself in ages?” Sabrina shook her head. “Two weeks with both Matt and Brad and now two weeks alone with Brad. I’m not used to that kind of crowd. I haven’t had so many men underfoot since I left home.”

“You seem to be adjusting.”

“Brad has been better behaved than I expected,” Sabrina confessed. “To tell you the truth, when Matt left I thought Brad would come apart. Rejection by another parent and all that, you know. But he’s been very reasonable about the situation. I don’t know what Matt told him before he left, but apparently it was sufficiently reassuring to keep Brad from throwing a fit.”

“Or sufficiently intimidating,” Alex suggested mildly.

“Or that. I only know Brad has been practically polite. He even helps out with the chores. I got used to Matt taking care of the house. It was rather pleasant to come home and find the washing done and dinner on the stove,” Sabrina added wistfully.

“Has Brad been filling his father’s shoes?”

“Not quite.” Sabrina grimaced, remembering the way the boy’s bathroom had looked that morning. “But at least he’s not actively sabotaging my apartment out of resentment. He’s very quiet, though. Doesn’t talk much in the evenings. Just buries himself in his mercenary magazines or watches television. I don’t think you could say we’re exactly buddies.”

“I’m not sure anyone actually gets any further with a kid that age,” Alex offered consolingly.

“You could be right. You’ll take him with you tonight?”

“God help me if any of my friends see me.” Alex groaned.

***

Matt was waiting in the shadow of the old shrine when Valdez appeared in the moonlight. Almost the same age as Matt, Ramon Valdez had one enormously useful trait for a brave, charismatic, noble-minded revolutionary. He looked the part.

He was, Matt realized wryly, as good-looking as he had been all those years ago when they first met each other at UCLA. Intense, intelligent dark eyes, a slightly sardonic mouth, thick dark hair, and a well-toned body. Valdez had never lacked female companionship, and part of his allure, Matt had always thought, was that women instinctively recognized that the man’s devotion to his ideals was genuine. The knowledge that they could never really compete with those ideals seemed to fascinate a certain portion of the female populace at the university.

“Still smoking those god-awful little cigars, Ramon?” Matt asked as he stepped away from the concealing shadows of the dilapidated shrine.

Valdez grinned around the cheroot. “We’re somewhat behind the times here. The antismoking activists haven’t yet reached Buena Ventura.”

“And besides, it does sort of go with the image. You look good, Ramon.”

“It’s been a long time, my friend. A long time.” Ramon cuffed Matt lightly on the shoulder and grinned again. “I was thinking of taking another trip to Acapulco and indulging myself in all that lovely decadence you showed me last time.”

“Uh huh. And were you also going to pick up a few guns to bring home to Buena Ventura again?”

“Souvenirs, Matt. That’s all they were. Souvenirs. I collect them.” Valdez contrived to look mildly hurt.

“I know someone you ought to meet. She’s into souvenirs, too.”

“She?” Ramon cocked one brow interestedly. He was the only human Matt had met who could actually perform the feat. “Is she into my kind of souvenirs?”

Matt laughed. “Not exactly. Not unless you’re now collecting ashtrays with pictures of oil wells engraved on the bottom.’“

“And does she number you among her souvenirs of Acapulco, Matt?”

Matt shook his head. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say she’s stuck with me.”

“Where is she now?”

“Dallas. Taking care of Brad.”

Valdez nodded. “Ah, yes. Your son. Someday you must introduce me to him.”

“He’d like that. You’d wow him. He’s at an impressionable age.”

“And the lady who’s into souvenirs is watching him for you while you’re on Buena Ventura, hmmm? This sounds serious, Matt.”

“The only reason I’m on Buena Ventura is because it’s serious.”

“I didn’t think you would come, you know,” Valdez confided cheerfully, seating himself at the base of the shrine. “When I was first approached I let it be known that I didn’t trust anyone from the U.S. government and would not take the risks that were being suggested. Then a Mr. Rafferty Coyne sent word that he could produce you to verify that the deal was legitimate. I said I would believe it when I saw you.”

“But you didn’t expect to see me.” Matt dropped down beside Valdez and sat staring thoughtfully into the jungle across the road. “I wasn’t sure I was going to get involved until last week.”