by P J Skinner
‘I’m afraid that Mr Luna is in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?’
It was not often that his full-on charm had no effect. He decided to change tack.
‘No. I don’t. But this is a matter of life and death.’
‘Life and death? That sounds serious.’ She smiled at him.
‘It is,’ he said, making his best sad puppy dog face, the one that always worked on other people’s wives.
‘Hmm, let me see what I can do.’
‘Hello, Nadia? Yes, I have a man here who says he has to talk to Guido Luna.’ She put her hand over the receiver. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Ramon Vega.’
‘He says his name is Ramon Vega. No, he doesn’t. Okay.’
She put down the phone.
‘Guido can’t see you today. He is busy. Can you come back tomorrow? I could try and get you a meeting.’
‘No, it’s urgent. I need to see him today.’
‘I’m sorry sir. It can’t be done.’ Seeing the real devastation on Ramon’s face, she added, ‘he does like to have a cigar outside in the afternoon, though. No guarantees.’
***
The meeting went on longer than an hour but Ramon was so absorbed in reading his report that he didn’t notice time passing. He was sitting outside the newspaper building on a bench in the sun and sweat soaked his shirt and ran into his trousers. Finally, a short man with a bushy moustache and a big mop of grey hair stepped through the revolving door and lit up a cigar. He smoked it in short puffs as if impatient to finish. The pungent smell wafted over to the bench making him wrinkle up his nose and look for the source of the odour. That must be Guido Luna. It was now or never. Ramon stood up and approached him with his hand held out.
‘Mr Luna?’
His hand was ignored and the piercing grey eyes gave him a once over that seared his flesh.
‘Yes. And you are?’
‘Ramon. Ramon Vega, at your service, sir.’
‘So, what do you want Mr Vega? I’m a busy man.’
He didn’t look that busy but Ramon wasn’t stupid enough to comment.
‘I have a scoop for you.’
‘A scoop, eh? We’ll soon see about that. You have thirty seconds.’
‘I have proof that there is a group of fugitive Nazis hiding in the mountains in Sierramar.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
‘That’s an irresistible bait for a journalist. Perhaps you knew that already?’
His piercing blue eyes examined Ramon’s face for signs of trickery but he found none. He took a deep drag on his cigar and then threw it into the bin with a look of sorrow.
‘You’d better not be leading me on. That was Cuban.’
‘No sir, I’m serious. It’s a matter of life and death.’
‘Come on, we’ll talk in my office.’
***
When Ramon finished talking, Guido ran his fingers through his mop of grey hair a couple of times. He lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
‘Good God man! This is dynamite. Why have we never heard about this before? Where’s this proof you were talking about?’
Ramon handed him the report. ‘I have only one original,’ he said. ‘I’d appreciate it if you could make a photocopy and give it back to me.’
‘Nadia!’ Guido shouted, and she appeared in an instant. Ramon wondered if she had been eavesdropping. ‘Go get a copy of this for me right now. Do you want a coffee, Ramon?’
He didn’t. ‘Yes, please,’ he said.
They sipped their coffees while Nadia copied the document, lost in their own thoughts.
‘If I publish an article on these revelations, I imagine that things at home might become a bit difficult for you.’
‘Once the horse has left, it’s a bit late to shut the barn door. I’m more inclined to think that they might improve.’
Guido nodded. Nadia handed the original to Ramon and Guido put the copy on his desk. He bent over the document and leafed through it, stopping to gaze at the photographs and other facsimiles. A couple of times, he whistled and shook his head. At last, he glanced up, his eyes sparkling. He looked ten years younger.
‘A scoop! It’s been years since I had a proper scoop.’ He dashed out of the room, leaving a startled Ramon behind. ‘He’ll be back,’ said Nadia, ‘he’ll be trying to get it in tomorrow’s edition.’
‘Stop the presses,’ said Guido, who had returned at the same speed as he had left. ‘Well, it’s too late for tomorrow’s edition but we will mock up the front page and a double page spread for the following day. How does that sound?’
‘That’s excellent. Thank you.’
‘I’ll pay you for an exclusive. We will do an interview with you as a follow up.’ He rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘That’ll teach them to label me as washed up,’ he said to no-one in particular. Nadia beamed.
‘Show Ramon out. We’ll see you here tomorrow morning at ten for a photograph and an interview. I’ll be here tonight if you need anything.’
‘Thank you.’
‘The pleasure’s all mine.’
***
Back at the hotel, Ramon phoned Hernan Sanchez.
‘Mr Sanchez, it’s Ramon speaking. I received the document.’
‘Ramon, that’s great. I’m so sorry I didn’t send it straight away. It took a tragedy to make me see sense.’
‘A tragedy. What happened?’
‘There was a car crash near Lago Verde and they found two burnt bodies. The police told us that one of them was Alfredo. We mourned him for three days.’
‘Alfredo? Oh my God.’
‘Don’t panic, the autopsy proved that it couldn’t be him. But there is no doubt that we were meant to think that it was. My daughter and her friend have set out to find him.’
‘Is that a good idea? They may also be in danger. I never dreamt that my research would lead to this.’
‘I sent my fixer with them so they should be safe, but I want insurance. I decided that if we published the report, the Nazis wouldn’t have any reason to try and keep their presence a secret. It’s up to you now. How soon can we have it on the front pages?’
‘I managed to get into the Miami Herald today and talk to one of their longest standing journalists. He has agreed to do a write up on my report. The day after tomorrow, the revelation that some Nazis are hiding in Sierramar, and that the government has been complicit in hiding them, will be front page news.’
‘I hope that will not be too late. I tried to stop the girls from going to find Alfredo but my daughter is so stubborn.’
‘As soon as I have a copy of the article I will fax it to every newspaper in Calderon. Can you please help me?’
‘Anything.’
‘I will need the fax numbers.’
CHAPTER XXIV
Sam and Gloria September 1988
It was almost dusk when Sam and Gloria got to the crossroads where Segundo Duarte was waiting. Hernan Sanchez’s fixer was standing by himself outside a local shop festooned with baskets of fruit and footballs hanging in net bags. A woman crossed herself as she passed him on her way into the shop, his scarred face causing her superstitious soul to revolt. He didn’t give her a second glance and came over to the car, a rucksack slung over his shoulder and a cigarette in his mouth.
‘Good evening,’ he said, lowering his head, and then, ‘how are you, Miss Sanchez? I am at your service as always.’
‘Segundo, how good to see you. Get in.’
Ignoring Sam, he climbed into the back seat of the four-wheel drive, flicking his cigarette into the gutter as he shut the door.
‘Senor Duarte, buenas noches,’ said Sam, determined not to be left out. ‘Me llamo Sam.’
‘Ya se, lo mismo a usted.’ (I know, the same to you).
He didn’t look her in the eye or notice that she was looking at him with frank
interest and had not crossed herself or shown any interest in his scar.
‘Let’s go. We should get to the hostel by midnight,’ said Gloria, who hadn’t noticed the chill in the air.
She released the brake and they were off into the gloom. She put the music on full volume, making it impossible to chat. Sam wondered what Segundo made of Fleetwood Mac. They were singing ‘you make loving fun’ and Sam thought about Simon and the baby, and whether Alfredo would live to see it. She had not yet confessed the result of the pregnancy test to Gloria and as time went past, it seemed less easy to do. It was so ironic that she should get pregnant at the drop of a hat, while poor Gloria, who still hoped for children, could never do so. She wanted to talk about her wildly fluctuating feelings about it and about Simon but Gloria’s recent trauma had made this seem trivial in comparison so she kept a lid on it.
As usual, the passage of time was making her reconsider her decision to leave Simon, mostly because she didn’t see anyone else doing better in the boyfriend stakes. There was always something wrong. Was it better to stay with the devil she knew or discover some other man’s Achilles heel? Should she prefer Simon, who couldn’t say no to a seductive body, to a man like Alfredo who couldn’t say no to a seductive bottle? Compromise was not easy for Sam. Being inflexible when it came to her expectation of others, she thought that if she could resist temptation, it was only logical that her other half should, too. She was unusually iron willed which could lead to success against the odds but it often caused her unhappiness as it was hard for her to accept that mere mortals were a lot more likely to succumb to the easy choices.
***
After driving for a good six hours, they stopped at the same hostel where Saul and Alfredo had stayed. They were weary and hungry when they arrived. It was close to midnight, but they managed to persuade the owner, who was still drinking in his own bar with a couple of friends, to rustle up some bowls of soup left over from the evening meal. Gloria questioned the owner about Saul and Alfredo.
‘Yes, I remember those gentlemen,’ he said, ‘they stayed up late talking and drinking.’
‘When was that?’ said Gloria.
‘Oh, I can’t remember, perhaps a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Where were they headed?’
‘They were off to San Blas but they were planning to stay in Lago Verde on their way there. They told me they’d need a room on their way back but they never turned up. I guess they went somewhere else. That American was interested in the local culture. Perhaps they went to the Indian Market at San Marco?’
Sam managed to get Segundo alone. She didn’t understand why they had started off on the wrong foot but she was determined to make an effort to improve their communication. There was no way of estimating how much they might need each other on the trip.
‘I’m glad you are with us. Senor Sanchez trusts you completely. Have you known him a long time?’
‘Long enough.’
‘Did you meet him in Calderon?’
‘Why are you asking me questions about it? It’s none of your business.’
Gloria, who had come to join them, interjected.
‘Don’t be rude to Sam. She’s only being nice. Segundo met my father when he saved him and his family from the clutches of a loan shark who was holding his son for ransom. Segundo was looking for work and my father hired him to make a road or something.’
‘It was the road to San Blas.’
‘San Blas? But that’s where we’re going. What a coincidence,’ said Sam.
‘That’s all it is,’ said Segundo. ‘Gloria’s father found out that someone was threatening my family and he sorted it out. I’ve been working with him ever since.’
‘Senor Sanchez is a legend,’ said Sam.
‘He’s a special man,’ said Gloria.
‘Amen,’ said Segundo.
Sam didn’t feel as if she had made any progress but at least now she understood the fanatical loyalty.
She shared a room with Gloria. They lay side by side in their single beds, wide awake despite the hour. Sam could see the glow of Gloria’s cigarette deepen in the darkness as her friend inhaled. Normally she would have complained about smoking in the bedroom but she hadn’t the heart.
‘Do you think he’s still alive?’ asked Gloria
‘I think so. They would’ve put him in the car with Saul if he was dead. It seems like they were trying to put us off the trail.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, why push Saul off a cliff with a random body in the car? They could have pushed him off by himself. Also, why set fire to the car? I think they burned the bodies to slow down identification. They were obviously hoping that the police would assume the body was Alfredo’s and put it in the newspapers. It was a message.’
‘A message? To whom?
‘To us. They must be aware we are on to them. I don’t know how, but they must. That’s the only explanation. They are trying to stop us going to San Blas to look for Alfredo, by pretending he is already dead.’
‘So, they were buying themselves time? But what for?’
‘It’s a mystery. I’ve no idea why they don’t run away to Argentina if they think they’ve been discovered. There must be a reason that they are staying in San Blas, when they should be leaving. I can’t imagine what it is though.’
‘It must be important.’
‘Important enough to kill for. It must be related to those weird underground buildings we saw on the aerial photographs.’
‘I hope we’re not too late.’
‘We’re on the right track.’
‘I don’t believe in God, but I’m doing a lot of praying.
‘I hear you.’
***
The next morning, they ate breakfast at dawn. Despite the hour, Gloria was in a sunny mood for once. It didn’t do her much good as she retched when the scrambled eggs arrived and stumbled outside. Segundo grunted and reached over for her plate.
‘Waste not, want not,’ he said.
Sam went outside where Gloria was smoking a cigarette.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. I think I have some sort of stomach bug. Don’t worry about me.’
‘I’ll finish my breakfast before Segundo does. We should go as soon as we are ready.’
‘I’ll be right there.’
Sam went back inside and sat opposite Segundo who was finishing Gloria’s breakfast.
‘What are we looking for when we get there?’ he asked.
Sam reached into her rucksack and pulled out the aerial photograph of the hidden laboratory. She handed it to Segundo who glanced at it and threw it back.
‘It’s a hill,’ he said, ‘why’s a hill important?’
‘You see those figures?’ she said, pointing at the photograph. ‘They are wearing lab coats. That hill is on the far side of San Blas at the end of the road to the forest.’
‘I’ve been there before. I didn’t see any buildings then.’
‘We think it contains an underground laboratory. Why else is this truck parked here? Do you see that shadow? We think it is the door.’
Segundo grunted. It wasn’t clear whether in assent or disdain.
‘Alfredo may have stumbled across a drug laboratory, or something like that, and is being held captive inside the hill.’
‘Why would they keep him?’
‘We don’t understand.’
‘You don’t know much, do you?’
‘There’s no need to be rude. I’m doing my best.’
‘I can’t imagine why they got a girl to do a man’s job.’
To her surprise, Sam realised that he was jealous of her for doing his job, protecting the Sanchez family. She didn’t have time to argue.
‘I’m a woman not a girl, and without me, you wouldn’t have found anything. I don’t care if you like me or not, but we need to work together on this before it’s too late.’
‘Against my better judgment.’
Sam let him have the last word and went to pay for the hostel. Gloria was revving the engine by the time she came out with her bag. There didn’t seem to be any ill effects from Gloria’s dodgy tummy. Segundo was sitting in the back, his hat over his face, catching a nap. Sam got into the car and shoved a random cassette into the player.
‘Let’s go, then. It should take us about five hours to get to the spot where the car crashed,’ said Gloria.
‘Is that at ludicrous, or ridiculous, speed?’
‘Shut up, gringa.’
***
Even with Gloria at the wheel, the journey was long and slow. The rainy weather had made the roads worse and the potholes were disguised by their contents, making them perilous at any speed. They passed through a village where the local people were following a statue of the Virgin Mary around the streets which delayed them an hour. It was hard to be annoyed. Tiny people, slightly bigger than dwarfs, marched behind the Virgin, dressed in elaborate costumes. The women wore heavy felt skirts with multiple layered petticoats topped with white lace blouses. On their feet, they had espadrilles which did not seem to offer any protection against the weather. Most of the men wore trousers that looked like plus fours in shape, with multi-coloured waistcoats and baggy shirts. The adults were sporting bowler or trilby hats made out of felt. They chanted as they marched, in odd, high nasal voices. Behind them, a brass band with ancient battered instruments blasted out national favourites, sustained by a bottle of rum that was doing the rounds out of sight of the priest. Sam took surreptitious photographs out of the window, being careful that no one saw her. She knew from experience that mountain people in Sierramar didn’t like their photograph being taken.
As they crawled out of town, a woman approached the car and asked for money. Gloria handed over some coins from the cup holder in the divider between the seats. The woman tried to grab her hand. She was insistent.
‘What does she want?’ asked Sam.
‘To tell my fortune.’
‘It can’t do any harm. Let her do it. At least it will feel less like begging if you have paid for a service.’
‘Honestly Sam, sometimes I think you're related to Mother Theresa,’ said Gloria, but she stuck her hand out of the window. The old woman gazed intently at it, tracing the lines with her forefinger and muttering invocations of some sort. She started talking, but not in Spanish.
