It Never Rains in Colombia (21 page)

             
Christian coolly explained, “She thinks you're in a coma in Colombia. Why would she leave a clue? What possible help could you be?”

             
Alejandro ran a hand through his curly hair in exasperation, “Why did you tell her that?”

             
“Her father told her.”

             
Alejandro froze, “That's how they found her,” he said thinking of Sophia's father, the “businessman,” the Mafia accountant. The money from the sale of illicit goods was funnelled through him and his bookshop, one of many fronts. He made dirty money clean.

             
Christian shrugged, “I thought you were. Last I heard, you were comatose in Bolivar Hospital.”

             
Alejandro sighed, taking a seat on the antique-style pink sofa. “Too much misinformation,” he said. “It's as if fate wants us to be defeated,” he muttered angrily.

             
“Why go to all this trouble? You almost died for this girl. No one can ask anymore of you. You've done enough.”

             
“You don't understand. It's not enough until she's safe.”

             
“Why, but you don't even love her. Do you? Why is she so important?” Christian asked.

             
Alejandro looked up, “Why do you keep asking that?”

             
“I want to know, just out of interest,” Christian said.

             
“You're too interested then,” Alejandro complained rising from the chair. “Remember, we're family,” he warned. “Anyway, you don't know what love is.” He passed Christian looking uncharacteristically grim as he headed out the door. “If you did, you wouldn't ask me all these questions.”

             
Christian walked back slowly to Sophia's bedroom suite. He looked around and then picked up a creased paper from inside the otherwise empty waste paper basket. Glancing at the words, he stopped in his tracks then raced out of the room, all his thoughts and concerns about Sophia erased, wiped clean. “She's at Heathrow,” he blurted to Alex before he'd even shut the door.

             
“How do you know?” he asked desperately. “Where's she going?” Christian joined him in the hallway, showing him the hurriedly scrawled note.

             
They ran out of the hotel.

             
Alex started the car, Christian snapped his seatbelt shut as they sped down the road. “That girl,” he said to Alex incoherently. “She thinks she can take on the whole world.”

             
Alex looked at him distractedly, then turned back to the road. “What?” he asked in Spanish.

             
“She's gone to meet Victor,” Christian said slowly, “to give the money back.”

             
“That's not going to solve anything,” Alex shouted in frustration. “He'll kill her.”

             
“How?” Christian mumbled. “Think about it, Heathrow is the safest place in London, armed police constantly patrolling the airport.”

             
“You don't know Victor,” Alex said morosely, as if Christian were a fool. “He'll kill her friend, too.”

              Alex saw Sophia. She was a few feet away, leaning on the check in desk. Under the harsh glare of the bright white airport lighting, she remained the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He joined her at the desk, making the check-in lady look up in surprise. Sophia gasped in shock, hugging him tightly, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her head on his shoulder, then pulled back to look at him, covering his face in kisses. The check-in assistant smiled politely, then handed Sophia's passport and boarding pass back as her luggage rolled away toward the baggage hold. Alejandro grabbed Sophia's luggage and then her arm, leading her away. “What's gotten into you?” he asked as she pulled back her arm. Sophia leaned back to take in his face. He stopped walking. She kissed him and he gave into the pleasure of her lips. Sophia ran her fingers along the nape of his neck until she reached the bottom of his hairline, where his soft wavy brown hair began, in that familiar way that he had longed for. He pulled her in closer. A man behind them cleared his throat and Alex disentangled himself from Sophia's charming touch.

             
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm gently. She took her passport and headed away from the check-in queue.

             
“What happened?” she asked intensely as they walked, Alex rushed past the airport lounge and hurried to catch up, saying, “They told me you were in a coma, that you died and now you're here. How is it possible?”

             
“It had to be that way,” he said simply. “When is Victor coming?” he asked nervously.

             
“11.00,” she said.

             
“Fifteen minutes,” he commented, “you shouldn't have done that. God,” Alex sighed, “he's probably already here.”

             
“No, it doesn't matter,” Sophia explained excitedly. “I've got it all worked out.”

             
“You have?” he asked suspiciously. “I bet Victor has to.”

             
“What can he do?” Sophia asked as they passed the ladies bathroom. The suitcase had begun to weigh him down and he shifted it to his right hand. “I don't have the money on me,” she said, “so if he wants to get it back, he can't hurt me.”

             
“No,” Alex said, correcting her. “He can't kill you until you tell him where it is. This isn't about the money anymore,” he explained, “now you know too much.”

             
“I know nothing,” Sophia said as they passed the information desk on the way to the short-stay car park.

             
Alex shook his head, taking her hand, “Mi amor, you've seen his face. You know his name. You know the route the drugs take to leave Cartagena, how they get the money out of the airport, the people who buy it. You've seen everything on that laptop,” he said, indicating the laptop bag.

             
She froze. He'd made his point.

             
“He can't let you go,” Alex said simply, his expression dour.

             
“This is never going to stop,” Sophia complained, “I did nothing wrong! Why am I being punished like this?”

             
The automatic doors were only a few metres away. Two men entered from the short-stay car park entrance.

             
Alex casually took Sophia by the elbow and turned her away from the doors, saying, “Where were you going to meet him?”

             
“The departure lounge in the sunglass shop,” she replied. “It's just me and him.”

             
Alex cast his paranoid gaze around the airport. “He never comes alone. Okay, this is what we're going to do.” Sophia slowed down. “You're going to leave now. Tell me where the money is and I'll meet him.”

             
She almost stopped walking, slowed down by disappointment. “No, I can't,” she explained, “I have to make sure Harlow is okay. He said if I tell him where the money is, he'll let her go. If I leave now, he'll kill her.”

             
“True,” Alejandro said thoughtfully. “Aye, dios mío.”

             
He could see the sunglass shop in the distance and veered away from there.

             
“It's now or never,” Sophia whispered. “I can't live like this.”

             
“I know,” he said sadly. “We'll figure this out together, okay?”

             
“Okay,” she said.

             
“Sophia, if Victor gets you, you're not coming back. There's another way to solve this, but it can't be done now. You have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

             
She nodded and he led her down the escalator to the Heathrow underground train station.

             
“As long as you have the money, there's a good chance that he'll keep your friend alive, if she's not dead already,” he said.

             
“She's not, he showed me.”

             
They jumped on the first train that came. Alejandro placed the suitcase in the aisle next to the doors, a short distance from where they stood, after two stops he turned and held her face kissing her gently, “I love you.”

             
Sophia smiled.

             
As the doors closed, the announcer said, “This is Terminal 1.” Alejandro dropped his phone. She looked down distractedly, reaching to get it, then he snatched the laptop bag, put a hand between the doors, shoved them open, and jumped onto the platform hastily. The doors slammed shut behind him.

             
“Hey,” she screamed banging on the doors. He watched as the train carried Sophia's furious face away. According to his watch, it was one minute to 11 a.m. He raced back to the westbound platform. The train doors beeped as he jumped on almost trapping him.

              Alejandro passed through security with ease using his own boarding pass. He threw Sophia's away and headed through the departure lounge at full speed, going toward the sunglass section of duty free with the laptop bag in hand. Victor's face was one he would never forget, the smooth skin that ended abruptly in a raised scar above his left temple. The cruel twist of his lips and the quick perceptive eyes that made you think he could see every move you made. That face was mysteriously absent from the shoppers in the sunglass shop. Alex looked at his watch coolly.
Victor would never come alone,
he thought. He searched for a face that stood out from the crowd but found none. Alex toured the sunglass shop, ignoring the large selection of sunglasses. Without any warning, a large hand fell on his shoulder and he turned slowly, expecting to see the piercing, cold, brown eyes.

             
“You have the money?” Andre asked. It was more a command than a question.

             
“Where's Victor?” Alejandro asked, dodging the question.

             
“None of your business. The boss doesn't like to have his time wasted. Now, you give me the money and this will all be over.”

             
Alex remained grim-faced, “I'm not giving the money to anyone but Victor. Do you think I'm a fool? You think I'd let you leave with millions of Euros? No, I'll give it to him directly.”

             
Andre was silent, his large bulk looming over Alex. From the corner of Alex's eye, he could see another man close by, browsing the sunglasses then stopping when he heard Alex's words. Andre's lips curled in menace and he seemed like a dog with bared teeth, about to bite.

             
Alex began to move away, “Fine, the deal’s off.”

             
Andre grabbed him by the elbow, “It's not that easy.” He nodded subtly to the man near the sunglasses and pulled Alex toward the door. Behind him, he could see a man talking on his phone. They moved out of earshot and another smartly dressed behemoth tourist joined them.

             
Andre released Alex's arm. The other man straightened his own white shirt collar. They headed out of the departure lounge casually and walked into the short-stay car park.

              Sophia jumped off the train as soon as it stopped. Suitcase in hand, she ran to the westbound platform and waited anxiously for the next train back to Heathrow.
Two minutes
, she thought,
he could be there by now.
Frustration seeped through her veins, she ran through the airport. People stared as she flew past, dodging cheerful tourists, a long line of schoolchildren, and many other bewildered onlookers. At the departure gate, she checked her pockets for the ticket, knowing it was gone. The man just waited patiently for her to produce it.

             
“I've lost my ticket, but my plane.” The female staff member seemed unconvinced. “Look, I know this sounds strange, but my friend is in danger. If you could just let me through…”

             
“What do you mean?” the man asked, clutching his radio.

             
“There's a man with a gun in there.”

              The car park was a desolate wasteland of grey concrete and dusty cars. Alex slowed down, following Andre. The man behind him shoved him forward. Finally they reached a navy blue Securicor van with the words G4S painted on the side. Andre pulled open the back doors and stood aside as Alex got in. There was Victor, his smooth face, newly shaved; looking as fresh as the day he was born. “Welcome back!” he said charmingly as Alex climbed in and Andre shut the double doors behind him. “Where's my money?” he asked casually, as if it were a trifle.

             
“That's the question of the day, isn't it?” Alex remarked.