you were poor."
"I would," Jacey agreed.
There was a small picture stuck on the inside of Paloma's cupboard
door.
It was a pencil portrait of a handsome young man with a neat
beard wearing a military style fatigue cap.
His large eyes had an
expression of soulful fervour.
A faint circle behind his head hinted
at a halo.
"Who's that?"
Jacey asked Paloma.
She already knew the answer.
Paloma hesitated for a moment.
"Oh, no one really," she said awkwardly.
"Someone gave it to me."
She smiled.
"He's good-looking, isn't he?
That's why I kept it."
Jacey took a gamble.
"He doesn't look so handsome on the reward posters."
"So?"
Paloma looked at her calculatingly.
"You've heard about Lohaquin?"
"Not really," Jacey said.
"Only rumours.
I'd like to hear the truth."
"Well, you won't hear it from a stupid girl like Paloma."
The sound of
Dr.
Rodriguez's voice startled Jacey.
He glared at the Spanish
girl.
"I've told you before about pinning up those drawings.
You're turning
a terrorist into some kind of saint."
"So you think Lohaquin is a terrorist?"
Jacey asked.
Rodriguez turned to face her.
"What would you call a man who is supposed to have an army hidden in
the rain forest and who says he wants to take over the country?"
"I'd call him an optimist," Jacey said.
She hesitated.
"Or maybe even a hero."
Rodriguez snorted.
"Then you're as stupid as Paloma.
I hope you don't go around voicing
opinions like that.
They'll get you into a lot of trouble."
He
scowled at Jacey.
"And if you think your precious British passport will save you, you
don't understand men like Nicolas Schlemann."
"I thought he was a financier," Jacey said, 'not a policeman."
"He's anything and everything," Rodriguez said.
"He has far too much power and he's very dangerous."
For a moment,
Jacey thought she saw concern in the Spanish doctor's eyes.
"Just remember that when you deal with him."
"Any dealings I have with Nicolas Schlemann will be strictly
professional," Jacey said lightly.
"Bear that in mind when you meet him at the party tomorrow," Rodriguez
said.
His voice was dry.
How did he know about her social life?
She masked her surprise.
"I
didn't know he'd be there."
She shrugged.
"Nicolas wouldn't miss one of the famous Marquez extravaganzas."
Rodriguez's voice was bitter.
"Do you know that the money spent on one of those parties would keep
this hospital running for a month?"
She was about to speak but he
silenced her.
"Don't feel guilty.
Go and enjoy yourself.
It won't make any
difference if you sit at home like a martyr.
But remember that because
people are smiling at you, they're not necessarily your friends.
Particularly people like Nicolas Schlemann."
* *
"Very interesting," Peter said.
He had come into her room on her
invitation.
"But indecent."
Jacey turned to him and smiled.
She was wearing only her stockings, a
wispy suspender belt and a silky thong.
"Are you complaining or is that a compliment?"
"A bit of both," he said.
"Complaining because I haven't time to take advantage of you."
"You mean you get thrown in jail if you're late for one of the famous
Marquez parties?"
she teased.
"I don't mind being late," he said.
He moved towards her.
"But if I start on you now, I won't even want to go out."
She shrugged and turned slowly in front of him, her hands shielding her
breasts in mock modesty.
"So we stay in.
I don't mind."
She could tell that he was tempted.
To entice him further, she turned
again, and stretched her hands above her head, tensing her buttocks,
knowing that as the black line of her thong disappeared in the cleft
between them it emphasised their rounded appeal.
The stretch-lace
suspenders attached to the dark bangles of her stocking tops were also
an invitation to let his fingers stray.
Peter was a 'legs-and-bum'
man; he had already made that clear.
She smoothed her palms over her bottom, then half turned towards him
and bent one leg, stroking her inner thigh.
"I can undress," she suggested.
"It won't take a minute.
And I have an unopened bottle of wine in the
fridge."
He unselfconsciously adjusted his swelling erection.
"No," he said thickly.
"Paulo will be here in five minutes."
She walked towards him and saw his eyes move from her naked breasts to
the tiny vee of her thong which barely concealed the red bush of pubic
hair.
"So?"
she shrugged.
"We can tell Paulo to go away again."
"No.
Get dressed.
We're going out."
She was startled at his vehemence, and a warning bell rang at the back
of her mind.
Peter had never refused her before, and she knew that he
didn't really want to now.
But he was edgy.
His attitude reminded her
of the first time they had made love in the operating theatre; he had
acted as if he had something on his mind.
She knew that he wasn't
being completely honest with her now, and it annoyed her.
What was so
special about this party?
She walked towards the wardrobe door, where
her black dress was hanging, and lifted it down.
As she slipped it
over her head, she saw an expression of relief in his eyes.
Fully
covered, she glanced at him.
"Better?"
she asked sweetly.
"Do you feel happier now?"
"I feel uncomfortable," he grunted, 'and you know it."
"Well, you had your chance to do something about it," she said
unsympathetically.
She wanted to ask him what was wrong.
Instead she quickly checked her
appearance in the mirror.
Her loose hair fell to her shoulders like a
smooth, red curtain.
She glanced down and saw the hard peaks of her
nipples pushing against the silky dress fabric.
The mock seduction act
had aroused her as well as Peter.
Maybe I should wear a bra, she
thought.
Then she heard the sound of a car horn outside; it was too
late to change now.
She noticed Peter was looking at her with unusual
intensity.
She pirouetted playfully.
"Do I look suitably dressed for this party?"
"You look fine," he said.
"Very sexy."
"But not sexy enough to persuade you to stay home."
He looked suddenly guilty.
"The hospital gets money from Carlos Marquez.
So we have to b
sociable."
The warning bells started ringing again.
She sai nothing but she did
not believe him.
Was he suggesting that the Marquez family would
refuse to fund the fashionable La Primavera if one or two of the
medic;
staff weren't at a party?
There was something wrong about all this.
Peter was keeping something from he and it made her feel angry.
Whatever it was, she was determined to get to the truth before the
evening was over.
Chapter Three.
"The Marquez villa was on the outskirts of Techtatuan.
After driving
for about twenty minutes, Paulo stopped in front of a pair of massive
gates.
He blasted his horn, and the gates swung open, letting through
two burly men.
They both wore smart suits that looked slightly too
small for them and they stopped when they reached the car, one on each
side.
Paulo wound down the window and the largest of the two men
peered in.
A pair of dark, snakey-cold eyes gave Jacey a swift,
impersonal glance.
She shivered unexpectedly.
She recognised this
type of man;
he would kill without compunction, if his paymaster gave the order.
"You have an invitation, sir?"
The question, aimed at Peter, sounded
only barely polite.
Jacey felt suddenly irritated at being so pointedly ignored.
"We both have invitations," she said crisply.
The blank killer's eyes looked at her again.
The man said nothing but
simply held out his hand and took the card that Peter offered him.
A
quick look, and it was handed back.
"Is this your woman, sir?"
"Yes," Peter said.
The man nodded and stepped back.
A different face suddenly appeared at
Paulo's window.