Treaty Violation (27 page)

“Regarding tomorrow,” Dirk said, “where’s Nicholas?”

K checked his watch. “Probably working. He’ll deliver Cesar’s head on a plate and clean up this mess. You’ll see.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Dirk,” a waiter said and handed him a note.

Dirk accepted it. It was from Nash, saying he had to see him right away outside the front gate. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

As Dirk headed outside, he thought about Helena. He couldn’t believe a year had passed since they’d met. Fresh wounds opened each time he remembered her—one for lost passion, the other for his transgression.

The humid air simmered
as the sun hovered in a cloudless blue sky. Dirk and his wife Ellen entered the swimming pool patio of the beach resort, a cozy escape on the Pacific coast for wealthy Panamanians. Children played and splashed in the shallow end. Men in snug shorts and round bellies rubbed oil on their tanned skin and strutted while women relaxed in lounging chairs, read fashion magazines, or gossiped. Waiters carried trays of food and drinks to the guests. A listless lifeguard spun a whistle around his finger.

The wet deck soothed Dirk’s scorched feet as they walked. He focused on the man waving at them in the corner as they approached two open chairs near a patio umbrella. “Minister Hernandez,” he said, “what a pleasant surprise.”

Hernandez stood. They shook hands.

“You remember my wife, Ellen,” Dirk said.

“Always a pleasure,” Hernandez said and kissed her cheek.

“A perfect weekend,” Dirk said as the wives greeted each other.

Hernandez nodded. “Absolutely splendid.”

Lying beside the minister’s wife was a young woman wearing sunglasses. She lowered her copy of
Vogue
and gestured to the crowd of people. “If you can call this a vacation,” she said scornfully. “Those screaming kids are driving me insane.”

Hernandez chuckled, embarrassed. “You’ll have to excuse my daughter, Helena. She’s in one of her moods.”

“Daddy,” Helena protested. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dirk,” she said and lowered her sunglasses with a smile to reveal her hypnotic sapphire eyes. “I’m
not
in one of my moods.” She wiggled her toes and looked at her magazine.

Dirk’s gaze fixed on Helena as she slid her sunglasses up: tanned skin glistening with coconut oil; firm body with all the right curves; full, rounded breasts pressed together by a Corvette-red bikini with sweat dripping into her cleavage. “Honey,” he said and touched Ellen’s arm when Hernandez gestured to the two open chairs, “should we sit?”

“Darn,” Ellen said, “I forgot the sunscreen.”

Dirk sneaked another peek at Helena as Ellen rummaged through her beach bag. Helena applied lip gloss and kissed the air as she looked at him from behind her sunglasses.

“We have some extra,” Hernandez said and held up a bottle of coconut tanning oil.

“Thanks,” Ellen said and continued rummaging, “but I need a forty-five sun block. My skin is sensitive. Honey,” she said and looked up at Dirk, “could you get it?”

“Of course,” he said, jerked back to reality. “I’ll be right back.”

Helena set her magazine aside. “I need my headphones.” She stood and rattled the cubes in her plastic cup. “Daddy, order me another drink, would you?”

“Helena,” Hernandez said, “you’d better slow down—”

“Daddy,
please
,” she said. “Just one more drink.”

Hernandez nodded and gestured to a passing waiter.

“Love you, Daddy,” Helena said cheerfully and grabbed her purse. “Ready?”

Dirk nodded. “We’ll be right back, honey.”

Ellen looked up and smiled. He gestured to the gate and led the way.

“Don’t be so shy,” Helena whispered playfully as they left. “Haven’t you ever been with a younger woman before?”

“I…no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he said.

They stepped inside the elevator with an elderly couple.

“The wrong idea?” she said and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“What floor?” he asked.

“We can stop at your room first,” she said.

Dirk swallowed hard and pushed the button for the sixth floor. He glanced at the elderly couple and smiled to suggest, “Nothing going on here.” His heart pounded as her leg rubbed up against his. Finally, they reached the sixth floor.

The doors opened.

Helena followed Dirk and stood by him as he opened the door.

Dirk paused but couldn’t resist a smile. “Right, we’ll get my stuff…and then get your stuff.” He gestured back to the pool as he pushed the door open. “My wife needs her sunscreen.”

Helena set her purse on the table near the humming air conditioner and rubbed her arms. “It’s freezing in here. Why do you Americans like it so cold?”

Dirk closed the door and allowed his eyes to peel off her bikini. “The sunscreen is in the bathroom.”

Helena sat on the end of the bed.

“Right, you have a seat and I’ll…be right back.” He closed the bathroom door and looked in the mirror. He checked his teeth and sucked in his stomach, then took a deep breath and looked for the sunscreen.

“I found it,” he said and stepped out of the bathroom to see Helena snorting a line of cocaine on the table. “What are you doing?” he yelled and rushed over. He wiped the white powder into the trash and closed the stainless steel case.

“Playing rough,” Helena said lasciviously. “I like that. Relax, stud. I’ve been stoned all weekend, and now I’m horny.”

“That stuff will kill you,” Dirk said with a lump in his throat.

She set the stainless steel case in her purse.

“Where did you get that?” he asked and gazed upon her erect nipples.

“From a man,” she said playfully.

“Did Cesar Gomez give that to you?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she said. She reached behind her neck and untied the bikini strap. Dirk glanced back at the door. “You won’t get in trouble.”

He gestured for her to stop as she unhooked the back and let the red bikini fall to reveal her perfect breasts.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she said. Her hard nipples poked his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

Dirk’s arms lifted mysteriously until he hugged her. He ran his hands along her back and felt the curve of her hips, flesh begging him to bite. “We should go,” he managed to murmur.

“He’s blushing,” she said. “You Americans are such prudes.” She
tickled his sides. “Come on, try to relax.”

Dirk resisted laughing and grabbed her arms. “We should go.”

“I love a man with a firm grip,” she said and shivered with delight.

“We should go,” he said, but resisting her now was futile.

Helena grabbed his crotch. “Oh my, someone’s excited,” she said, and then dropped to her knees.
“Something tells me this won’t take long.”

Dirk exited the embassy
compound and approached Nash’s black Toyota Land Cruiser. He opened the passenger door and climbed in. A can of Budweiser was in the drink holder.

“This better be important.” Dirk said tersely.

Nash gripped the wheel. “You remember how Tyler printed the financial documents a few weeks ago?”

Dirk nodded.

“I have a program in my computer that tracks when people use the system and which documents are printed. I stopped by the office after we gave K the tour today—”

“Get to the point,” Dirk said irritably and observed the passing cars.

“According to my computer,” Nash said, “someone printed the
same documents today.”

Dirk rubbed his temples and groaned.

“Someone was in the office at the same time we were.” He released his hands from the steering wheel and looked at Dirk. “I spoke with the security guard in the lobby. The person he described sounded like Nicholas.”

Dirk smacked the dashboard. “You did the right thing.” He pointed authoritatively. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

Nash was visibly distressed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” Dirk assured him. “I’ll take care of this. Don’t tell anyone.”

Dirk entered his office,
flicked on the light, sat at his desk, and started his computer. His worst fear surfaced with a haunting laugh when he remembered how Nicholas had collapsed after using the computer the last time. He began viewing the computer files, one after another, until he found the anonymous letter he’d given to Nestor before the meeting with Tyler:

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

Tyler had to die, and his death had to look like the work of Cesar Gomez—revenge for the death of Helena. He pounded his fists on the desk. Nicholas knew.

Dirk nodded solemnly, as if receiving a death sentence, and considered how his path had gone astray. His affair with Helena had been brief, three months of blissful sexual trysts. His marriage had seen better days but Helena had satisfied every desire encoded in his
DNA
. Who could deny her? Why deny her?

Unlike the other men in Helena’s life, only he had the courage to help her. He never let her get high when they were together. He tried to help her quit but his busy career and rocky marriage prevented him from spending enough time with her. “Poor Helena,” people had said—those who didn’t know her. She had an iron will and took what she wanted. What she needed was a strong man to control her, something her father had failed at miserably. Dirk had warned him repeatedly about her problem, but Hernandez’s scare tactics and threats were a cowardly way of shirking responsibility. How could a father, an aristocratic man raised on traditional values, have been so negligent?

Making Cesar Gomez a Linear target had been the logical decision to stop the flow of cocaine through Panama, but Cesar gave Helena cocaine and used her addiction to satisfy his own perverse desires. He’d officially quit dealing drugs and had made a mockery of the Linear operation, but he still gave her cocaine. Cesar could burn in hell for eternity and never pay his debt for destroying her life.

Dirk had thought Tyler would be a good influence, but he couldn’t balance his personal and professional life. He could have prevented everything. After all, he was with Helena every day and knew about her addiction. She would be alive now with her first child. Operation Delphi Justice would have continued. He had the chance to redeem himself, but upon finding Helena at Cesar’s penthouse, he chose murder, not forgiveness. In his most disgraceful act, he took the necklace he’d given to her at their engagement party, as the scratches on her neck had indicated. Tyler’s death had been a just punishment.

Dirk opened a desk drawer and removed a photo of Helena. He smiled at her radiant face and smelled the lingering violet scented perfume, a reminder of the soft skin he’d kissed and caressed. Only Helena kindled his passion and satisfied his desires. Despite the faults of Hernandez, Cesar, and Tyler, he blamed himself for her death.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

He should have swept her away when he had the chance, but he refused her love. He was too concerned about what the other members of The Order might think. She’d wanted him, but like a fool he encouraged her to see Tyler, someone closer to her age. He would give up anything to be with her now—The Order, even his family. He looked at the photo of Ellen on his desk and grudgingly accepted the reality that was his own creation. His love for Helena was something Ellen would never understand and would forever remain his secret.

He hit the desk firmly with both fists and stood. Operation Delphi Justice would succeed. The only way to guarantee that was to stop Nicholas Lowe.

Nicholas Lowe parked in front of Cesar Gomez’s apartment
building just before sunrise. The neighborhood was quiet, except for a dog that barked as he closed the car door. Lina looked charming with her hair up and her intellectual glasses.

Keeping the new plan a secret had been difficult. Nicholas had coordinated the meeting at Albrook airport with Willie and Daisy Holland but convinced K, Dirk, and the Panamanian National Police that the original plan at Paitilla Airport was still on schedule. The most difficult part had been deciding to disobey orders, again. The last time he did that, The Order denied his membership and nearly ruined his career. He had evidence of a conspiracy, but a part of him was still worried he might be making a mistake. Bailing out the
$87
million debt would probably guarantee his membership to The Order; and in the worst case scenario, he could say he’d altered the plan at the last minute for security purposes. After all, the only major adjustment had been changing Cesar’s fate. Like it or not, Cesar deserved his day in court. Nicholas was covering his bases and his ass. He wasn’t about to spend the rest of his career behind a desk in Washington.

Nicholas and Lina entered the lobby. The Kuna Indian security guard waved them pass.