Freedom Does Matter (Mercenaries Book 2) (52 page)

Piero rolled over and spit a few bits of straw from his mouth. The Peruvian high desert in August, he thought. Lovely. He raised himself. “You heard
mamá
; let’s get going now. You can gloat over dessert.”

With shrieks of pleasure, the children ran toward the house.

Inside, washed up and seated at the head of the table, Piero felt more like Minister of the Interior. At least until the children shouted in unison: “Mamá, we got the last goal!”

Sara looked across the table at Piero, a smile curving her lips. “Is that why you were sprawled on the grass?” Her smile faded; Piero didn’t like her new expression. “We must have a conversation later.”

“I am to work tonight.”

“
Before
you leave.”

After the promised dessert, the children retired to their schoolwork. In the living room, Piero and Sara shared the sofa. He sipped his
pisco
before tipping his head, his brows raised.

Sara’s brows furrowed as she said, “I understand Nayra Mamani will campaign against us. She has augmented her staff by contracting a campaign manager. And—”

“It makes no difference. We have planned for that eventuality.” He paused, his glass half-way to his lips. Goldfarb’s demand… perhaps I can use that.

“So you wish to challenge her as well as the others?”

“Of course! I have the backing.” He sipped, gazing at her over his glass while rethinking his last statement. “She’s just another fish, as they say. Still, I will bring it up at the meeting.” He set his glass down and stood. “Probably the biggest impact will be financial. She has good support, there.”

“Does it change your plans?”

Piero considered that for a moment. “It may. I will see. I’ll be back late, I fear.
Te quiero
.”

In spite of his brazen words to Sara, the threat that Mamani could pose to his campaign was sufficient to reconsider Goldfarb’s demand. I can do this, he thought. Two suitcases, not even large ones, and under diplomatic seal, especially if I enter in Miami. 

So, how may I take advantage of this situation?

Inside the home in the Cayma district where he’d installed Camila, he kissed her rather more hurriedly than he’d intended, and took a welcome drink from the glass she offered. No time to waste, he thought, and plunged into his decision. “I will bring the currency to Goldfarb as his message instructed. He should make sure the payment has been transferred.”

“I thought you feared him having so much control?”

He finished his drink. “Times and circumstances change.” Pulling her close, he opened her blouse. “Beautiful as usual…” His voice trailed off as he kissed his way down her throat to her chest.

The trip to deliver the ersatz bills offered the chance to take Sara and the children, not only to New York, but Orlando as well. His position as Minister made arranging the trip easy if not convenient. He would visit the UN for a half-day and Goldfarb the next. Meanwhile, the family would spend a couple of days touring, visiting at least the Statue of Liberty, and then, on the return home, they would stop in Orlando for four days. Piero admitted his children were more excited than Sara, but she was willing. 

The last day in New York, Piero had the limo driver drop him at the Jersey City tower where Goldfarb had his office. The driver would then continue on, taking his family to the ferry for Liberty Island. As he worked his way out of the limo, he told the children, “I have enough problems with Peruvian history. You can show me up with a better knowledge of American history. The driver will pick me up on the way back. I have a surprise for you tonight, so have a good time, but behave.”

After waving them away, he turned to Goldfarb’s entry.

“Señor Goldfarb, how nice to see you again.” He dropped the two cases beside him. “I believe you are expecting these?”

“Thank you. Please relax yourself. Colleen will arrange anything you wish; I will return in a few minutes.”

Colleen smiled. A professional woman of perhaps forty with a well-toned figure, she first brought a light lunch with a small glass of
Macchu Pisco
.

Piero touched the glass of the Peruvian wine. “Thank you very much for this; it brings my country here.” He smiled knowingly. “Did Mr. Goldfarb betray my weakness?”

Her grin spread quickly. “Actually, Camila. I hope she did not speak out of turn?”

“Of course not.” He raised his glass in a mock salute. “Is there a paper at hand?”

“Just a moment.” 

She quickly returned with copies of the
New York Times
, the
Post
and the
Daily News
. With a courteous “Thank you,” Piero opened the
Times
and began to read.

He hadn’t finished the first section before Goldfarb strolled back into the conference room. “Very satisfactory,” he said. “As promised, those goods are now on the way to Saint Louis for distribution.”

“Good,” Piero said. “Now, we shall have a conversation.” Goldfarb’s eyes opened wide. My tone gives him pause. Excellent. “Take a seat. First, I would betray your generous hospitality if I didn’t thank Colleen and you for the lunch and reading material.” Goldfarb relaxed and Piero smiled. The smile faded into a forbidding expression. “I have made the delivery as you and I assume señor Talos demanded. I will
not
do this again. In fact, from now the delivery of all product from Peru will be at my pleasure.” Piero paused, to let the lawyer think. “You must decide if you can afford to arrange a new supply network to replace the one I already have. If I fall, it does as well.”

Goldfarb cleared his throat, then reached for his cup.

My work this past year will now pay its dividends, Piero thought as he smiled, the smile that had surprised many of his countrymen when he’d discovered a new gold seam, or smuggling route or most recently, a new safe house for his counterfeiters. “Before you begin to fret, señor, I make a proposition. Señor Talos is concerned for his income stream from my products, true?” He waited; the lawyer sipped from his cup before nodding. “However…” Piero brought his dealing-with-miscreants voice into play. “… I am most interested in the recordings Talos was to have handed to señor Capac, for which he has been paid. So. I provide a viable, nearly inexhaustible source of revenue—until the US enacts reasonable drug laws, at least—and Talos has videos.

“For me, for other Peruvians, the videos lose value as time goes on. The next elections can depend on them, if I can obtain them and employ them to my benefit.

“I am sure my proposal is clear to you. I must have the video recordings before the elections. You must have my product. Can we agree?”

“We can,” Goldfarb said. “However, Mr. Talos is adamant that the video cassettes cannot be retrieved whilst he remains incarcerated.”

Piero smiled again. “Then it will be in your interest to relieve him of that burden.”

Departing, Piero chuckled under his breath as he bid Colleen goodbye. The rest of the meeting had reinforced Piero’s belief that he properly understood Goldfarb’s acute area of interest. Expecting him to roll over, Goldfarb had committed to a delivery schedule of counterfeit currency; today’s delivery had been the first.

3: Missing

A Calm Day

The Nest, on seven Out Islands in the Bahamas, had been purchased by Ian Jamse as home base, not only for him, but for his mercenary team. And it is aptly named, Go Shen thought as he dropped into his comfortable desk chair. As security director, it is my task to keep it safe. Although, he admitted with a smile, this Tuesday in early September hasn’t been much of a challenge! Especially here. He opened his laptop to check for messages. According to Ian, the flight from Nassau to the Nest presented no difficulties and he and Beckie Sverdupe, his fiancée, would be deplaning on Port Cay… Shen glanced at the clock and thought, I should hear the plane landing pretty soon.

Fifteen minutes later, he did, and checked his monitors to make sure everything was in order. With a smile, he mentally joined the small crowd greeting the couple. Not every business trip gets
that
kind of welcome, he thought. Won’t take me long to straighten up here; I can get Ian’s final update on Reverend Billy’s arrest.

Before he finished, however, his phone rang. When he answered, the front desk person said, “Doctor Ardan is out here; she’d like to see you.” 

“Send her back.” Doctor Millie Ardan, trauma specialist, ran the Nest’s hospital for Ian, in addition to traveling with teams going into situations where injuries were likely. By the time he’d decided he had no idea why she’d be visiting him instead of Ian, she rapped the door frame and entered. In green scrubs, she held her head high but tipped slightly. “Thanks, Shen. I came by to see if Amy’s been in touch.
Guppy
’s not in the anchorage and it’s getting late. I expected her way before now.”

He regarded her with what must have been a completely stupefied expression, based on her next words: “You remember my daughter?” Her mouth quirked up in a twisted grin. “Fifteen years old? So tall?” She held her hand a little above her own head. “Long brown hair?”

“Sorry. Of course, I remember Amy. My expression reflected my surprise, nothing more.” He paused to consult the computer. “The morning watch’s log noted that she left the anchorage before six, but nothing since. Sit down, please.” He tapped the keyboard and looked again. “No, nothing. It’s not all that late, though. Didn’t she leave a note or something?”

“No, but that’s not unusual. We talked yesterday, and today after lunch, we’d planned to begin her junior year courses.” She shook her head. “I’m worried, Shen. What could have happened? While leaving a note is about fifty-fifty, she always calls when she’s later than I expect.”

“Does she have a sat phone?”

Millie shook her head. “I tried her cell, but it went right to voice mail.”

He nodded and worked the computer’s keyboard again. “Yes. Unless she’s close to an island, there’d be no coverage.” He gazed at the display for a moment before spinning the computer to face the doctor. “Here’s the twenty-five mile radar image, with an hour’s tracking data. I can’t see any of these targets being her.”

“Do we have earlier data? That we could see her leaving?”

“Hang on, I’ll check. But don’t get your hopes up.” He picked up his phone. “Unless there’s something suspicious, we only keep an hour or so of this data.” He talked for a minute, confirming that the display on his computer represented all the data they had. “Sorry.”

She caught her breath as she nodded. “What else can we do, Shen? She must be in trouble of some kind. I’m certain she’d have contacted us if she could. You didn’t see her yesterday. She was excited about studying the new material, and my promise to take her to Disney if she did well.”

“I’ll ask if Jean-Luc is available to search—”

“Thanks. While you do that, I’ll talk to Ian, and Beckie.” Millie rose and headed to the door. “Amy was emailing back and forth with her; maybe she knows something.”

“They’re at Ian’s home. I’ll meet you there after I see about Jean-Luc.”

As he walked her to the dock, he wondered about Amy. Disappearing didn’t feel like something she’d do; it didn’t fit her personality. But, getting entangled amorously with Abby Rochambeau didn’t seem to fit her either. I don’t know, he thought, and his worries slipped to his own adopted daughter, approaching the age of independence. With a sigh, he continued toward the airfield office on Port Cay to find Jean-Luc.

The Calm Dissipates

Inside Ian Jamse’s home, Beckie Sverdupe sipped her glass of chilled champagne. She stepped aside to the lanai railing and looked over her friends, all come to welcome her and Ian back from their week in London tying up loose ends. The railing caught her at the waist; at five foot nothing and a smidge under a hundred pounds, she didn’t worry about it holding her safe from the four foot drop to the beach.

The flute in her right hand, she reached back with her left to pull her chestnut ponytail around to trail across her bust down to her belly. She finished the wine and placed the glass carefully on the rail. Her lips curved upward as she observed their guests.

Ian, her fiancé, stood nearer the slider into the house. Beckie didn’t see what had attracted his attention; her attention was fully taken by him. His tan slacks matched her shorts; they had both chosen white polo shirts. His ice blue eyes contrasted with her bright green irises, flashing now with pleasure. She could almost feel her love flowing across the ten feet between them. He rubbed his short blond hair. No, it looks white this afternoon. She really enjoyed running her fingers through it, almost as much as tucking her head under his chin and cuddling him.

Her heart beat a little harder, and she clenched her jaws to calm herself. Don’t need that here, she thought with a giggle, what would the kids think? Ian turned to step into the house; with a little moué of disappointment, she began to walk toward Shalin and Kevin deVeel, special friends at the very least.