The Adventurers (81 page)

CHAPTER 2

Beatriz Elisabeth Guayanos. That was her name. But I had not known that the first time I saw her in the Miami airport. I was waiting to board the plane to come home, and she was standing in front of the ticket counter.

It was the way she held her head high that first caught my eye. She was tall for a Latin American, with raven-black hair bound high in a chignon. Slim, yet faintly voluptuous, with a suggestion of exciting flesh beneath her summer black chiffon dress. Perhaps there was a little too much bust, a little too much roundness of the belly above the swelling curve of her hips for the American taste, but her kind of beauty had been classic among us for generations. In the end, though, it was her eyes that held me. Framed by the sweeping dark curves of her brows and lashes, they were the greenest eyes I had ever seen.

She became aware of my stare and turned away slightly with that air of disdain that only years of having a duena can give. I smiled to myself. It had been a long time since I had seen that particular gesture.

She said something to the man at the ticket counter, and he turned involuntarily to look at me. I caught a glint of recognition in his eyes as he turned and spoke quickly to her. Now it was her turn to stare. I half held my smile. I knew that look. I could almost tell what they were thinking: what makes him such a cock? He's not that tall, not that good looking. Still, all those women, all the things they say about him. I wonder?

I saw her eyes turn frankly speculative. This time I did not contain my smile. I could feel the pulses quicken in me. This was the fever that had come with the first woman I had ever known, the challenge I could never resist. The look that seemed to ask: are you man enough?

You saw a woman. You wanted her. Nothing in the world mattered until you possessed her. You could not eat, you could not sleep. The agony of the damned was yours until you slaked it in the even greater agony of the flesh.

I began to walk toward her, and I saw the expression in her eyes change. For a moment I thought it was something like fear, then I felt a hand on my arm and turned.

Hoyos and Prieto were at my elbow. "Buenos dias, senores," I said politely.

"How fortunate, senor," Hoyos said. "I am returning to Corteguay aboard the same plane."

"How fortunate indeed," I replied, but the sarcasm was lost on him. There was no need for el Presidente to have gone to all this trouble. I had given my word that I would return. Besides, I was impatient to go over to the girl.

This time it was Prieto, the younger of the two, who spoke. "And I am going to New York to prepare the consulate for your arrival. I am sure they will be most pleased to see you after you have finished consulting with el Presidente."

"Gracias," I said.

Just then a photographer and a reporter came up, and a flashbulb went off in my eyes. "Senor Xenos," the reporter asked, "what are your plans now that Miss Daley has filed for divorce?"

"I am returning home for a short vacation."

"And after that?"

"After that?" I smiled ruefully. "I haven't really thought much about it. I imagine I shall have to go back to work."

The reporter grinned. "It's a rough life."

I laughed. "It doesn't get any easier, that's for sure."

"Will you return to Miami?"

"I hope so," I said. "Miami is a lovely city."

"Thank you, Senor Xenos."

The reporter walked away, the photographer followed him. I turned and looked for the girl but she was gone.

Prieto touched my arm again. "You must excuse me, senor," he said hastily. "I have urgent business to complete in Miami."

I nodded.

"Vaya con Dios," he said, already on his way to the exit.

"Adios," I called after him.

The loudspeaker overhead announced our flight. I gestured to Fat Cat, who had been leaning against a post watching, and we started toward the boarding area. I saw her again as I started down the staircase. She was standing in the tourist-class queue.

She glanced up, saw me, and turned her head away haughtily. I smiled to myself as I came down the steps. This, too, was expected.

"Here we must part for the moment, senor," Hoyos said.

"But I thought we were returning on the same flight?"

"We are, excelencia." He smiled. "But an unimportant person like me travels turista."

"We will meet in Corteguay then."

"With God's help."

Fat Cat and I walked over to the first-class section. I flashed the boarding passes to the attendant and he waved us through. As I joined the others waiting to board, I looked over the railing into the tourist area. The girl had her face buried in a magazine but I was sure that she was aware of my eyes.

I looked at the man behind her. It was Hoyos. I felt a sudden impulse to exchange tickets with him, and almost before I realized, I was gesturing to him.

There was a puzzled look on his face as he came over to the railing that separated us. "Would you be kind enough to exchange seats with me, senor?" I asked.

"But why, excelencia? Turista is not half as comfortable as first."

I smiled at him and looked at the girl. He followed my eyes, then gave me a knowing look. "Of course, excelencia," he said quickly. "I am at your service."

We exchanged tickets and he went back through the gate. I didn't bother. I merely stepped over the section of railing between us.

"You can't do that, sir," an attendant called. "This is tourist."

"There's been a mistake." I smiled and waved Hoyos' ticket at him.

He studied my ticket and motioned me on.

I walked over and got into the line behind the girl. She looked back curiously.

"Are you going to Curatu?" I asked.

She did not answer.

"Vous parlez frangais?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Capite italiano?"

"No."

"Sprechen Sie deutsch?"

Again she shook her head, but this time there was a faint hint of a smile on her lips.

"Well," I finally said in Spanish, mock despair in my voice, "if you don't speak Spanish I'm probably waiting for the wrong plane."

She began to laugh. "You're waiting for the right plane, Mr. Xenos." Her English was accent free. "It's just that you're out of your class. You don't belong here with the common people."

I smiled at her. "That was most unfair of you. You know my name, and I don't know yours."

A curious look came into her eyes. "Guayanos," she said. "Beatriz Elisabeth Guayanos."

I looked at her. She seemed to be waiting for something. "Am I supposed to know you?" I asked. "Have we met?"

She shook her head. Her eyes looked into mine. "You knew my father, Dr. Jose Guayanos."

"Oh."

I knew her father, all right. He had been minister of education and later special assistant to el Presidente. He had also been involved in a plot to kill el Presidente which had backfired. He was the sole member of the group of would-be assailants who had escaped; all the others had gone before a firing squad. There were rumors that Guayanos was hiding somewhere in New York, still involved in a plot to overthrow the Corteguayan government.

"Yes, I knew your father," I said, meeting her eyes. "He seemed a very nice man."

"Perhaps now you would prefer to go back to first class?"

I smiled. "What for?"

She answered by gesturing across the railing. "The Old

Fox."

"The Old Fox?" I questioned. I looked up and saw Hoyos reading his newspaper. "You mean Hoyos?"

"That's what we call him," she said. "He is chief of the secret police. El Presidente will hear about this."

"I couldn't care less," I said. "Internal politics are no concern of mine, and if they were, it would not matter. I would still be here with you."

The color of her eyes went dark like the virgin emeralds found in our mines. "Why?"

"I had to find out if you smelled as beautiful as you look," I said, "and you do."

CHAPTER 3

The police were everywhere when we landed, for el Presidente himself had come to meet me. The stewardess opened the door between the tourist and first class and walked over to me. "Senor Xenos, would you be good enough to leave the plane through the first-class exit?"

I nodded and turned to Beatriz. "Will you come with me?"

She shook her head. "It would be embarrassing for everyone.”

"I will see you again? Where can I call you?"

"I will call you."

"When?"

"A day or two," she said. "You will be busy."

"Not later than tomorrow," I answered. "I won't be that busy."

"Tomorrow then." She held out her hand. "Vaya con Dios."

I kissed her hand. "Hasta manana."

I followed the stewardess through to the first-class cabin. Fat Cat and Hoyos were waiting for me. "Was it a smooth flight?" Hoyos asked with a smile.

"Very smooth, thank you." I walked to the open cabin door. The bright sunlight made me blink for a moment. Then I saw el Presidente's black limousine roll to a stop near the debarking stairs. A soldier ran around and opened the door.

El Presidente himself got out as I came down the steps. He walked toward me with open arms. "My son," he said emotionally, embracing me, "I knew you would not fail me."

"Excelencia."

I returned his embrace while all around us the photographers were shooting away from every angle. I was suddenly surprised at the slim frailty of the man inside the uniform. I looked down into his face; there were tears in his eyes. I noticed lines in that face I had never seen before, and his eyebrows, that were once jet black, now were almost silver white. Something inside me went suddenly very sad. It seemed only yesterday that I had left Corteguay, and he had seemed so young then, so strong. Now he was an old man.

"Come into the car," he said, taking my arm, "the sun is hot."

I followed him into the cool air-conditioned limousine. He sank back into the seat wearily, breathing heavily, and I sat silently, waiting for him to speak. He gestured to the driver, and the car began to move. I looked back through the window. The other passengers, who had been held up until I was down the steps, were beginning to disembark. I could not see the girl.

"Do not worry," el Presidente said, misinterpreting, "your luggage will be taken to the hotel. I have reserved the best suite for you."

"Thank you."

"But first there is much we must talk about. I thought we might have an early dinner alone at the palace where we will not be interrupted."

"I am at your disposal."

He smiled suddenly and placed a hand on my arm. "Come, you need not be so formal with me. You were not the last time."

I smiled back. "If memory serves, neither of us was."

He laughed. "It is done and forgotten. We are together again, that is all that matters."

I glanced out the window as we passed through the airport gates onto the highway. Police were lined up about every thirty yards as far as I could see. Each held a submachine gun at the ready.

"We are well protected."

"It is necessary," he replied. "The bandoleros are becoming increasingly bolder. Three times in the last month they have tried to get at me. Fortunately they failed,"

I looked at him silently. There had to be something radically wrong if the bandoleros were bold enough to come this close to the city. Usually they stayed in the mountains.

He sensed what I was thinking. "These are not the bandoleros we once knew," he said, "these are something quite else. They are now a trained army led by Communist-schooled guerrilleros like el Condor."

"El Condor? But he is—"

"Yes, the old one is dead," el Presidente answered quickly, "but this is the son. He has taken his father's name."

"You mean the boy—"

El Presidente nodded. "He is a boy no longer. He has been trained in special schools in eastern Europe. Once we had him in prison but he was released during the amnesty at the time of your marriage to Amparo. Since then he has set up a guerrilla army, welding almost all the bandoleros into one loose federation."

"Wasn't that what you once did?" I asked.

"In a way, but this one has organized even better. He has aid from the outside, which we never had. Money and guns."

"The guns have not been stopped?"

"No. Of the many things that must be done, this, perhaps, is the most important. Once the guns are stopped his federation will fall apart by itself."

"The guns are coming in by sea," I said.

"My own cousin is in charge of customs at the port. He swears that could not be."

I didn't answer. As usual the truth was in no one's mouth. I glanced out the window. We were on the outskirts of the city. It was market day and the farmers were walking along behind their wagons at the side of the road. They trudged slowly and silently homeward. I stared at them.

Something was very wrong. Usually after market the campesinos were happy. They would be singing and laughing and jingling the coins in their pockets, proudly feeling how clever they had been in beating the city dwellers out of their cash. As I looked, one of them spat silently after the car.

I turned back to el Presidente. He had seen it too. His face was white and drawn. "The poison has even begun to infect the common people."

"There must be something that can be done about that."

"What?" he asked. "I cannot put them all in jail. Everyone blames me for all his ills. God knows I have done the best I could for my people."

I stared at him. He really believed it. There was nothing I could say. Perhaps when the guns were stopped things would calm down and the people would listen to reason. In time, I thought, even el Presidente might listen.

Surely the bones in that old body must be weary from the burden of power they had borne so long.

"So you came back?" Amparo's voice was sarcastic in the dimly lit room.

"Yes," I replied, "I came back."

"Just as he said you would," she said scornfully, "like a puppy crawling back to its master."

I didn't answer. Instead I walked deeper into the room. I stopped in front of her chair and looked down at her. Her eyes were dark and luminous. Her pale, thin face looked as if she had not been out in the sun in years. There was a bitter twist to her mouth as she asked, "Why do you stare?"