"Let me talk to Dupre a second. The fucker. I can't believe he did this
to you. But maybe we can come up with something. Otherwise, I may just
kill him with my bare hands."
I heard a cough, which told me Alan had been listening in on an
extension. It teed me off, but then--he did have to be in on this.
Shit. The idea of relying on Alan Dupre for anything . . .
"Well, do it fast. I broke into Alex Goddard's office to use this phone
and . . . just hurry."
"You got it."
Now the sound of firm, officer-like boot steps stormed past the door,
headed out this time, after which the two young soldiers began berating
each other in high-pitched Spanish.
"_Hace falta tener cojones!_"
"_Hijo de tu chingada madre!_"
More and more light was creeping through the slatted windows. A glance
at my watch showed the time to be six sharp, but the embassy was no
longer an option.
"Listen," Steve said coming back on, "there's some rain due for
tonight, but he says he thinks we can try. He claims there's a clearing
about a quarter of a mile down a gravel road that goes south. With the
rain as cover, maybe we can put down just after dark. Think you can
find a way to get Sarah and meet us?"
"I'm not even sure she can walk, at least not far, but we'll be there."
I was flashing on her back in the square, proclaiming her happiness.
Would I have to drag her out, carry her on my back? Well, I would.
"There's some kind of 'ceremony' on for tomorrow morning. The Army's
going to be here in double strength because of it, but maybe it'll make
for some confusion that'll help. Still, she's--"
"Damn, this is going to be big-time dicey."
"Honey, let me tell you as much as I can about the layout of this
place. Just in case."
Which I did. The main problem was, I didn't know exactly where Sarah
was.
"Is there anybody there who could help you?" he asked when I'd finished.
"I'm not hopeful." I paused. "Listen, can you get your hands on a gun
or guns?"
"What are you . . . Don't even think about it! That's the best way to
guarantee we all get killed. I'm not taking on the Guatemalan Armed
Forces. And you're not either. We've got to keep this very low-tech.
The dark and the rain, that's what we use. They don't shoot back."
At that moment I wanted nothing more than to shoot Alex Goddard. I'd
have done it if I'd had the chance. Happily. But I knew Steve was right.
"Okay, look, what time?"
"We'll try to set down about, say--"
There was a crackle as the yellow diodes on the phone erupted in a
high-pitched whistle, cutting the connection.
No! My God, had somebody been listening in?
So when exactly was he coming? Around dark? That would probably be
about eight o'clock. Or maybe nine . . .
I was closing the phone case when I heard a sound from outside, as
though someone had passed the door, then come back to listen.
All right. Get going.
I gathered the printouts, then headed back through the laboratory,
where I took a long, last look at the petri dishes being incubated.
Should I just dump them now? But then he'd know for sure that I knew.
The time would come, and soon.
As I eased myself back into the fake-stone OR and closed the door, the
dawn outside was steeped in forest sounds, clacks and whistles and
chirps. That was good, because I needed some stray noise to mask what I
was going to do next. Take control.