It was a well-known fact that Felipe Menendez III supported a small band of extremists who wanted the government returned to the old dictatorship.
Why would Hector give such a man a private audience? Why meet with him at all? But an even better question would be, why had Hector included Menendez in what appeared to be a secret meeting with the country’s two most powerful Federalists?
Chapter 13
Miguel had assured Emilio that Juan and Seina had come here today on a personal matter, not anything that would concern him. Since Miguel actually had no idea why Juan had brought his half-sister to his home, he had lied to Emilio, who had excused himself saying he had business to attend to at campaign headquarters. But it had been obvious that his feelings were hurt because he had not been invited to stay. Miguel wondered if the rift his own distrust had created between them could ever be mended completely. What if, when the traitor’s identity was discovered, it turned out not to be Emilio, as Miguel felt certain would happen? Could his oldest and dearest friend ever understand why he had shut him out? And would Dolores ever forgive him?
When Miguel entered the living room, Juan rose to his feet, a nervous look in his eyes. “Seina has left her mother’s home. She will not be returning.”
Miguel simply nodded, puzzled by Seina Fernandez’s unexpected appearance in his home and not understanding exactly what either he or Juan had to do with the fact that she had run away from home. It was not as if she were a child. She was a woman of twenty-four.
“Seina and Juan are in love,” J.J. explained. “Seina’s mother intended to force her to marry another man.”
Miguel’s eyes grew wide with utter surprise as he looked quizzically at Juan. “You and Seina? When did this happen? You have never mentioned the fact that you even knew her and now you come to me and tell me that the two of you are in love and she has run away from home.”
There had been a time when his friends had not kept secrets from him. Nor he from them.
“Six months ago I was ill.” Seina’s gaze pinpointed Miguel. “Juan took over several cases for my regular doctor when he had a personal emergency and that is how Juan and I met.”
Miguel glowered at Juan. “She was your patient?”
“Don’t be angry with Juan,” Seina said. “He tried to tell me that many young women get crushes on their doctors, but I knew it was more than a crush. I knew I was in love with him, so I have been pursuing him…secretly…for months now.”
“Mother of God!” Miguel muttered under his breath. There would be no good time to hear this news, but why now, when all hell had broken loose and he was facing a crisis of conscience?
“I have invited your sister to stay here with us,” J.J. said.
“You what?” Miguel snapped around and glowered at her. “How could you—”
“I declined the offer,” Seina said. “It was most gracious of your fiancée, Miguel, but I will be staying with Juan’s aunt until we are married.”
“Married?” Miguel rubbed his forehead. “Do you think for one minute that your brother will allow you to marry Juan?”
“I am of age. I have a legal right to marry whomever I please.” Seina stared defiantly at Miguel. “And I am not worried about Diego interfering.”
“You’re not? May I ask why not?”
“Miguel, Seina has something to tell you about Diego,” Juan said. “And you must listen and not lose your temper.”
J.J. stood up beside Miguel and placed her hand on his arm, whether to caution him to remain calm or to assure him of her support, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps both.
Juan sat down on the sofa beside Seina and put his arm around her shoulders. “Tell him.”
Seina nodded. “I have only recently learned that Diego blackmailed my friend Gala Hernandez and forced her to do something she did not want to do.”
“Gala Hernandez?” Miguel mulled over the name. An image of the woman’s body flashed through his mind, then her face.
“She was the woman at the country club who flirted with you,” J.J. told him. “And then she showed up again at Anton Casimiro’s dinner party. I can’t believe you could have forgotten the beautiful woman who flirted outrageously with you.”
“Diego made her do it,” Seina said. “He encouraged her to try to start an affair with Miguel so that he could use her to gain inside information about him.”
“I remember Gala.” Miguel smiled. “But she failed in her attempts to distract me from Jennifer, so Diego’s plan failed.”
“That’s not all,” Juan said.
“Diego made her carry a vial of some kind of poison to the party at Señor Casimiro’s,” Seina told them.
“So she is the one who poisoned the cocktail sauce?” Somehow this news did not surprise Miguel in the least. He had distrusted SeĊorita Hernandez almost from the moment they met.And the fact that his half-brother had provided her with the poison that had made more than a dozen people ill did not shock Miguel, either.
“Gala did not put the poison in the food herself. She simply smuggled in the poison. Someone else took it from her purse and mixed it with the food.”
“Who?” Miguel demanded.
“I do not know. I swear.” Seina wrung her hands together.
Miguel nodded as he digested this information. This meant that among Anton’s guests that night there had been another Nationalist supporter. A spy? An undercover agent? A traitor? “I am not surprised that your brother would do anything to stop me from being elected president. He has made it no secret that he supports Hector Padilla with his money and influence. But unless you have some kind of proof that Diego was behind the poisoning, then the police can do nothing.”
“The police!” Seina gasped. “No, please, give Diego a chance to…to…” she struggled for the right word. “If you had known Diego before…before he learned that we had an illegitimate half-brother and before he came under President Padilla’s influence, you would know he was not a bad man, not a man capable of harming others.”
“But now he is involved with murderers, with people willing to kill countless innocent people to—” Only when J.J. squeezed his arm, did Miguel realize he had been on the verge of sharing secret information. Hector Padilla’s plot to return Mocorito to a dictatorship was not something Miguel could share with anyone else. That type of news could easily tip the scales and send the country into civil unrest, which was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. If he could be elected president, then he would put a stop to Padilla’s plans.
“I cannot believe Diego had any part in the attempt on your life,” Seina said.
“Two men died that day and only last night my chauffeur was brutally beaten to death,” Miguel told her. “If Diego is taking orders from Hector Padilla, then he may well be an accessory to murder.”
Seina hung her head and wept. Juan frowned at Miguel.
J.J. pulled Miguel aside, out into the foyer. “Do you really want to take your anger out on Seina? She did a very brave thing today. She defied her mother and her brother. She is, in essence, giving up the only life she has ever known for the man she loves. And she is reaching out to you, her brother. She wants your help. She needs you. Are you going to turn your back on her?”
“This is the worst possible time for something like this to have happened. I have the fate of my country in my hands and I must—”
She took his hands in hers, turned them palms up and said, “You must do what is right. Offer her your support.”
Miguel closed his eyes and nodded. When he reopened them, J.J. was smiling at him.
“You knew when you asked her to stay, she would decline the offer, didn’t you?” he asked. “You simply wanted to show my sister that she is welcome in my home. Such diplomacy, querida. And such kindness.”
“We should handle this problem, now, then move on to the next one,” J.J. said.
“Yes, yes. One problem at a time.”
Together, hand-in-hand, they returned to the living room.
> “Seina, you and Juan have my blessings and my complete support. Mine and Jennifer’s,” Miguel told his sister. “It would be my honor for you to stay here in my home and be under my protection, if things were different. But at this time, the lives of those closest to me are in danger from my enemies. I fear you would not be safe here.”
Seina’s eyes filled with fresh tears, but these were tears of joy. A warm smile spread across her damp face. “I will stay with Juan’s aunt Josephina, but I am very grateful that you would—” her voice cracked with emotion.
“We should go now.” Juan urged Seina to stand. “I will take you to my aunt’s and then I must return to the hospital.”
“Of course.” Seina offered Miguel and J.J. a grateful smile.
“Juan, I would like a moment with you before you leave,” Miguel said, then glanced at J.J. “Jennifer, perhaps you will show my sister the garden.”
“Yes, of course.” J.J. motioned to Seina. “If you’ll come with me, we’ll leave the gentlemen to discuss business.”
As soon as the ladies were out of earshot, Miguel closed the pocket doors and turned to Juan. “I have decided to ask Mario Lamas to allot me fifteen minutes of airtime this evening in order for me to speak to the people of Mocorito on national television.” Miguel reached out and clasped Juan’s shoulder. “I want the people to know that I will not—that I cannot!—withdraw from the presidential race. No matter what.”
“I had thought perhaps, after Carlos was murdered…But no, no, you are right, Miguel.” Juan grabbed Miguel’s hand and held it tightly. “If the Federalists are capable of poisoning people, of murder, of attempted assassination, then who is to say what else they are capable of doing. You are a brave man, my friend, to risk everything for this country of ours that you love so much.And you are very fortunate to have found a woman such as Jennifer, who is willing to stand by you and help you fight for what you believe in.”
J.J. lifted the black lace shawl over her head as she entered St. Ignacio’s Cathedral with Miguel that afternoon. They entered the church alone, after driving here in Miguel’s antique Aston-Martin. Dom Shea had followed them in a rental car and he was now parked across the street, guarding the front entrance to the building. The centuries-old cathedral, with its stained-glass windows, statues of numerous saints, the Blessed Virgin and Jesus Christ and the fretwork rising from the walls to form arches across the three-story ceiling, resembled the interiors of numerous age-old churches across Mexico and South America. The utter silence within added to the atmosphere of deep spirituality that prevailed within these holy walls.
J.J. sat with Miguel as he prayed. She admired his deep faith in a higher power. It was to his credit that though he was a modern man, as he thought of himself, self-sufficient and powerful, he still believed in the miracle of prayer.
Facing a terrible dilemma, he had made a gut-wrenching decision. How did a man such as Miguel—an honorable man who loved his country and wanted the best for his people—live with the knowledge that he held the fate of millions in his hands?
As the moments passed, one quickly after the other, J.J. felt an overwhelming need to share in this moment with Miguel, to make some requests of her own.
Help him. Please help him. He is not asking anything for himself. Only for his people. Protect him and protect them from the evil threatening this nation. And let me do what is right, whatever will help Miguel the most.
After they’d spent nearly an hour in the cathedral, they walked outside, hand-in-hand, into the warm sunlight of an autumn afternoon in Nava. On the surface, this city, like the entire country, was an island paradise. But men’s greed for power and wealth had once chained this country in bondage. Set free only in the latter half of the twentieth century, Mocorito now faced a return to slavery under an uncaring taskmaster.
Miguel Cesar Ramirez stood alone, his country’s savior.
“This evening I will make an announcement on television to the people of my country,” Miguel said as they walked toward his car.
J.J. knew without asking what he planned to tell the citizens of Mocorito.
“I want you there with me tonight.”
“I’ll be right at your side.”
“And tomorrow morning, I want you to leave Mocorito.”
“No, Miguel. I want—”
He opened the car door for her and when she whirled around to face him, he looked her right in the eyes and said, “If you truly wish to help me, you will go back to America.”
She searched his face, studying his expression. Knowing what was in his heart, she realized she had only one real choice. “All right. I’ll make arrangements to fly to Caracas in the morning and then on to the United States.”
He helped her into the Aston-Martin, then rounded the hood and got in on the other side. “I will telephone Roberto and Emilio and ask them to meet us at campaign headquarters. I have already told Juan what I plan to do and I must tell the others.”
“They will support your decision.”
“Will they? Even not knowing the real threat that Hector Padilla poses to Mocorito?”
“Yes, even not knowing that if Padilla is reelected he plans to replace democracy with a dictatorship, they will support your decision not to back down, not to allow the Federalists to intimidate you.”
Miguel started the car and eased out into the street. “We have only a few hours this afternoon and then tonight to be together.” Increasing speed, Miguel zigzagged the little sports car through afternoon traffic, Dom just barely keeping up with them as he followed in the rental car.
J.J. didn’t respond. She understood what he meant and knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened tomorrow, next week or next year, this afternoon and tonight she would be, in every sense of the word, Miguel Ramirez’s woman.
As Diego drove through the gates, disregarding the guards who waved at him as he left the palace grounds, he could think of nothing except what he had overheard as he had hidden in the room behind Hector Padilla’s office.
A plot to overthrow the democratic government and replace it with a dictatorship within weeks of Hector’s reelection!
He had been played for a fool! Used as a tool to further a cause he did not believe in and would never willingly have supported. Hector had even mentioned him by name when he spoke to the other men, laughing about how easily Diego could be manipulated.
Diego Fernandez’s hatred for his half-brother has blinded him to everything else, Hector had said. His stupidity has worked greatly to my advantage.
What was he going to do? He had broken the law, had taken part in criminal activities on behalf of the Federalist Party, had even blackmailed his sister’s best friend. He could hardly go to the police, could he?
You can go to Ramirez, an inner voice told him. Go to him and tell him what Hector has planned.
The thought of joining forces with his father’s bastard son sickened Diego. He hated Miguel Ramirez as much as he hated admitting he had been wrong. But it was that very hatred that had made him so easily manipulated by that son of a bitch Padilla.
He had to do something to stop Hector and his ungodly band of supporters. And he had to do something soon.
Think about what can be done. Consider all your options. There must be a way that you can do what must be done without destroying your own life.
In three hours they would go to the television station for Miguel to give his address to the nation. Everything had been done to prepare for those fifteen minutes when candidate Ramirez would tell the people of Mocorito that no power on earth could make him withdraw from the presidential race. J.J. had read his speech and wept, knowing what this decision had cost him on a purely personal level. If his life, his future alone was at stake, he would have walked away with many regrets. But understanding fully the enormous impact on the nation if he protected only those closest to him, he had done the only thing he could have done. He had chosen to save Mocorito.
Due to impending rain showers, poss
ibly even a tropical storm brewing off the coast, the humidity had risen gradually during the day, and now dampness hung in the air like an invisible mist. J.J. removed her suit and hung it in the closet, then took off her shoes. Perspiration dotted her forehead and trickled between her breasts. On their ride home from campaign headquarters, with the top down on Miguel’s car, J.J. had gotten hot and only now, after ten minutes in the air-conditioned coolness of the house, had she begun to cool off. A little.
But in another sense she was still hot. Burning hot. There was a fire of passion blazing inside her. She and Miguel had a few precious hours to be together this afternoon and then again tonight. Tomorrow morning, she would take a ten o’clock flight from Mocorito to Caracas, and there board the Dundee jet for a flight home. Dom and Vic would remain in Mocorito, Dom as Miguel’s bodyguard and Vic continuing to work undercover in conjunction with Will Pierce and the CIA.
“Jennifer?” Miguel called to her from the bedroom.
She walked out of the huge closet/dressing-room area, then halted in the doorway when she saw Miguel standing by the French doors overlooking the courtyard.
He had stripped off his shoes, socks and white shirt, and wore only his black dress slacks. His shoulders were broad, his back wide, his skin a polished bronze shimmering with perspiration in the shadowy light of the overcast afternoon.
Why was it that she felt her entire life—all thirty years—had been bringing her to this point in time, to this one cloudy, gray day in a country half a world away from home, with a man she had known only a few days?
“It is going to rain. Soon.” Keeping his back to her, he spoke quietly, a hushed tone to his deep voice. “The wind is blowing very hard now.”
Oh, Miguel, Miguel.
She walked across the room. Slowly. Her heart beating fast, her pulse racing. Everything feminine within her vibrated with a hunger she had never known, with a need to love and be loved in the most basic way a man and a woman can exchange that primitive emotion.
Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love Page 18
