by Tony Lavely
This led to another half hour considering and rejecting the other known candidates, and some who Piero hadn’t considered.
“I don’t wish to sound patronizing, but the thrust for advertising should center on my—”
“Your family, certainly,” Emil said.
“Of course, of course. But that’s expected. And while Mamani has no children to parade about, her extended family has always been supportive.”
“I would like to see us highlight your love of our country,” Fernando offered. When Piero looked at him, the man was almost apologetic, leaning toward the door. “Even more than Emil has been doing.”
“Thank you, Nando,” Piero said. “Exactly what I was thinking. My actions always seek to benefit our country.”
Emil shot up out of his chair. “That’s perfect, Piero! And true, too. The writers have created two ads with that emphasis already. I’ll have them continue their effort tomorrow.”
“Yes, I’ve seen them and I like them. One of the next ones should stress securing our borders from the inside. I can talk with whomever you assign. Let me know.”
Emil gave every appearance of having found the surprise in the candy. “I will, and thank you.” He sipped his own drink, the first he’d had, Piero noted. “Have you had any luck with the other thing we talked about? The problem for Mamani?”
“Not yet, but I remain confident.”
The next morning, Piero dismissed his driver. “I will drive myself this morning. After taking the children to school, I will arrive at the office before ten and be ready to depart for Lima after lunch.”
At breakfast, he teased Carmen about the role she could play in his campaign, reminding himself not to be too forceful. After all, he thought, a thirteen year-old girl has little interest in being on a stage with adults! His son wasn’t quite so negative, but Piero brought the conversation back to soccer after Sara gave him ‘that look.’
The drive was pleasant, and he always enjoyed the time he could spend with his children. “But I must go to the capital today,” he told them.
“Oh,” Carmen said. “That’s why you drove us.”
“Right, little miss smarty. You know I hate to go away without you.”
“When do you return?”
“On Friday. I’ll be at your game unless the weather is terrible.”
“We’ll be looking for you!”
With hugs, he bundled them into the building and then headed for his Arequipa office. Outside the building, he parked and took out his phone. He scrolled to a nondescript entry and pushed Send.
When the ringing went on for the third ring, he glanced at the car’s clock. No, he thought, not too early. So why—
“Hello, Samuel Goldfarb’s office. May I help you?”
“Indeed you may. Is this Colleen? This is Piero Salvadore.”
“Of course! I can connect Mr. Goldfarb instantly.”
“Goldfarb here. How may I help you, Piero?”
“I require an update on the topic we discussed en agosto. What can you tell me?”
“Ah…” Piero felt no relief when he heard Goldfarb sigh. “We are diligently working to secure Mr. Talos’ release.” He has nothing, Piero thought. Goldfarb continued, “He has agreed to provide you the videos the very day of his departure from—”
“May I remind you, señor Goldfarb, time is of the essence. I have little interest in how you achieve our goal, but if I do not have the videos before Christmas, their value will diminish rapidly, as will Talos’ revenue stream. Are we clear?”
“Perfectly, Piero. We shall have news after our Thanksgiving.”
“That is?”
“The end of November.”
“Good. See that you do. All the shipments from Peru are on hold until—”
“I understand your position, but that delay will severely damage my… our reputation.”
“As I understand it, Thanksgiving is barely two weeks away. Hardly an inordinate period of time.”
After listening to another five minutes of whining and complaining, Piero said, “I will permit one half of the scheduled delivery to depart next week, as planned. Then nothing until I have the recordings.” He stroked his upper lip. “Others are willing to receive our goods, señor. Good day.” He chuckled, imagining Goldfarb blathering into a dead phone.
Chapter Fourteen
The Nest
Thursday (Thanksgiving)
BECKIE WOKE TO THE DISSONANT ringtone she’d programmed Ian’s phone with to signal a team member’s call. At the same time, a chill where she’d been warm and snuggly told her Ian was up and going to answer it. She opened an eye to see him pick the phone up and answer it. He listened for ten seconds, no more; Beckie caught her breath as he set the phone down and tapped the face.
“… Shalin believes there are invaders on Port Cay, headed for the hangar.”
Beckie was already out of the bed scrambling for clothes. “What—”
“They have cut off the cell station at the airfield. Satellite phones will work, but not everyone has one.”
“What else is vulnerable? And what about Shalin?”
“Shalin was shot. She is at home. Perhaps…”
Beckie grabbed the first shirt she saw, a bright yellow polo. “I’m going to her. I can make sure the kids are in the safe room and free up Kevin.” From the hallway, she finished, “I’ll catch up with you. I love you!”
As the door slammed behind her, she heard Ian’s “Be careful!”
Boynton met her in the entry way. “Ian’s on the way out; he’ll explain,” she said as she slammed the door open. Outside, she stopped short to make sure she saw no one on the island. The delay frustrated her, but not as much as getting injured would, she admitted. After two sweeps of the area, she ran.
There’s no need to be panic-struck. Still, her heart was pounding, and not simply from the hundred yard dash from her house to the cottage where her five guests were sleeping. What’s going on? she thought, a snarl twisting her lip.
She burst through the first bedroom door; Mike’s white hair showed beside Lissa’s blonde.
No, she thought, I won’t pull the sheet offa them!
She grabbed a lump that, based on location, had to be a foot and shook.
Lissa grumbled as she pulled her foot away all the while clutching the sheet to her chest. Mike responded to his partner’s motion by rolling his back to her.
“Okay, I will pull the sheet, then.”
Whipping the sheet away revealed both Lissa and Mike. The chill reached them; Lissa sat up with one arm across her breasts, the other hitting Mike’s shoulder.
Mike needed another second to react to Beckie’s scowling at them. “What the hell is going on, Beckie?” He glanced at the clock. “Our wake-up call is for later.”
“Probably. But whoever shot Shalin didn’t wait. Get your butts outta bed and into clothes; we’re gonna see how bad she is.” She glowered at their joint lack of motion. “Come on!”
They finally stood and moved, Lissa to the bathroom and Mike to the dresser.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me.”
Across the hall, Beckie blasted into Marla and Greg’s room. The only difference: the window was open and Marla had kicked off the sheet. The couple lay with limbs tangled together, breathing quietly.
“Sorry ’bout this.” Beckie walked to the foot of the bed where she selected two feet, one each, and yanked hard enough to be felt.
Marla, like Lissa, woke first, but in keeping with her incendiary nature, wasn’t as polite. Greg took the risk of covering her mouth while his look demanded an explanation.
“Shalin’s been shot. We have no clue why, or who, or where else attackers might be. We’re going to her, see what we can do. You’re coming so I know where you guys are! Get dressed; I’ll be back with Mike and Lissa, so if you want to be… clothed…”
Marla had shoved Greg’s hand away as she listened. “Yeah, we want to be clothed.” She rolled off the f
ar side of the bed and tossed a towel to Greg.
He shook his head. “What’s left to hide?”
Beckie gave him a weak smile before she went out. Sandy occupied the small room; a brief explanation had her up and moving faster than the two couples. Beckie hurried to the entry door and peeked out at Port Cay, across the channel. No motion, no color that didn’t belong. She spared another glance for Bon Secours Cay, thinking of Amy, but nothing moved there either.
Com’on, com’on, com’on! “You ready yet?” she hollered as she turned toward Mike and Lissa’s room.
Lissa had just shoved an arm into her green blouse when Beckie pushed through the door.
“Ready?” Lissa nodded as she buttoned the first button. “Wow, Mike, that’s bright,” Beckie said, holding her hand up as if to block the glare from his blue shirt and matching shorts.
“Seemed to go with your shirt.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” She forced herself to stop bouncing on her toes. “Okay, let’s go.”
Sandy pulled Marla and Greg with her.
The spots of blood on the steps to the deVeel’s home implied to Beckie any danger was outside; she kept her crew to the side while she reached the button.
She waited almost long enough to stab at it again but the door opened; Kevin peered out.
“What are you doing?” he spoke in an excited undertone.
“I’m here to help with Shalin and the kids. Ian’s headed to Shen’s office; there’s a problem with the control room, I think he said.”
She pushed her five through the door. “Marla, you and Sandy do First Aid. Go see about Shalin. Mike, Lissa, if the kids aren’t in the safe room, get them there, then help get Shalin there, too, if Marla says she can be moved. Only open the door for one of us! Greg, see if Marla can use any help.” She turned to Kevin and spread her hand on his chest. “Go and see if you can help Ian figure out what’s going on. We’ll keep everything safe here.” When he hesitated, she said, “Go!”
Once she’d locked the door behind Kevin, she ran to the safe room. Her plosive sigh of relief, brought on by everyone having done what she’d asked, was louder than she wished.
Marla was kneeling beside Shalin, who was lying on the futon in the secure room. The twins were sitting, quiet in their discomfort and shock at seeing their mother lying before them. Melissa was comforting them as best she could. Blood-soaked bandages lay near Shalin as Marla and Sandy did their best to clean the wound.
Someone had thrown a towel over Shalin’s bare chest; Beckie could see the wound in the woman’s upper thigh.
“I guess it’s a good thing I got over having people see me,” Shalin said through clenched teeth, her eyes flitting around the small room, lighting on each of the eight people. “At least, most are female.” Her laugh turned into a grunt of pain as Marla swabbed the back of her leg.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Beckie said. “But you’re mostly covered, now. I can’t imagine they gawked—”
“Besides, Mommy,” one of the twins said, “they’re helping. Really.”
“I know, sweetie, and I’m grateful.” She reached her hand to him.
Marla dropped the rag she’d been wiping with and rubbed her forehead. Beckie knelt down beside her. “How’s it look?”
“I got a pressure bandage on both sides and the bleeding’s slowed way down. If she’s still…” Marla pushed Shalin’s chest to force her to lie back. “If she lies still…” She glared at the patient. “I think she’ll be ok.”
Beckie nodded, “Thanks, all of you.” She looked into Shalin’s gaze. “So, what happened?”
Shalin gave her a look to kill. Her glance in her kids’ direction told Beckie why.
“Oh. Okay. Did Kevin take all the sat phones?”
“No, I wouldn’t think so. Check in the desk off the kitchen. Before you go out.”
Beckie nodded and rose. As she moved toward the door, Mike and Greg both followed. She decided not to have that discussion in front of the others. “If we leave the house, Marla, you’re in charge.” She waited until the others nodded. “I’ll tell you what the plan is, and Shalin can fill you in if you need more info.”
She opened the door and climbed the steps. In the desk she found two sat phones and handed one to Mike. “Take this to Shalin. Or Marla. They can’t use it down there, but…” He was already gone.
While she waited for him to return, sure he would, she grabbed a glass of orange juice and pointed Greg at the bottle. He joined her as she poured a glass for Mike.
When Mike finished his, Beckie waved the men into the dining room. “Okay. Is it sensible for you two to be following me? And Lissa and Marla? How will they feel if you get hurt?”
Neither man responded. Beckie saw familiar determination in their eyes. Mike had done well in Arizona, and Greg in the Keys, and she knew neither had an answer for their girl-friends’ reaction in the worst case. Still, she had to ask. “Are you sure? We know someone’s out there with a rifle at least, and I can’t imagine any scenario where guys on Port Cay are the only ones here.” They nodded, and Beckie smiled inside to see the look they shared before turning their gaze to her. Well, they’re sure. I don’t know of what any more than they do, but they’re certain of it.
“Okay. Last question. Can you take orders from me?” This was boilerplate; neither had been a problem in the past, but it needed to be clear.
They agreed.
“Of course, I’ll be talking to Ian, too. As long as the phone works, anyway.” She picked it up and dialed, then while waiting, she set it on the table in speaker mode.
His voice brusque, Ian answered, “Yes?”
“Can you talk?”
“Are you all safe? If so, attempt to see if Home has been trespassed upon, and call back in… four minutes.”
Beckie heaved a sigh of relief as he hung up, then she said, “Mike, tell the others we’ll be leaving the house. When you’re back—” He was gone.
Greg was at the window, peeking around the storm shutters someone had closed. “Nothing I can see.”
Beckie joined him but she too found nothing out of the ordinary.
Mike ran into the room. “Okay, they’re locked in and waiting. What’s next?”
Beckie pointed to the lanai. “Go check the south side. Shouldn’t be anyone there, but keep your head down. There’s enough cover for bad guys. Meet back here in… two minutes.” She turned away but then quickly added, “Maurice could be out there, too. Be careful!” She waved him away and took Greg by the arm. “You go to the rooftop, up those steps…” She pointed along the hallway. “… and take a good look around that end of the house, down to the water. I’ll check the front.” As he moved, she grabbed his arm again. “Keep under cover, just in case. They have awnings up there, for lying outta the sun. Use them. Two minutes!” She released his arm and headed to the front door.
She slipped out of the house and quartered the area between the house and the dock, keeping an eye out any unexplained motion.
Her watch signaled time to return just as she finished the second sweep. Beckie hurried inside the house with the door closed. She caught her breath, then hurried to fetch Mike.
Greg met them in the kitchen. She sat at the island and said, “Anything?”
Their negative reports didn’t surprise her. Ian was next. Her fingers were steadier than she expected; for the second time, she dialed with no errors.
Ian sounded a little calmer when he answered, and allowed her to report the lack of activity. She ended with, “But we didn’t go back to the house.”
“Boynton has that under control. Do not worry.”
“Okay. I have Mike and Greg. We’re okay; considering our next move.”
Beckie heard, “Ian! Over here!” before Ian said, “You are certain Shalin and the twins are safe?”
“As they can be.”
“Then, do nothing foolish. I love you.”
Beckie waved to Mike and Greg. By the time they’d reached the front door,
she’d crafted a plan. Of sorts, she thought. Lots to be determined by opportunity, still.
“When we get outside, we need to stay under cover best we can. I’d like to get over to Bon Secours to check on Amy and Dylan, but with the sun coming up, even swimming will be like holding up a sign. But the boats don’t have any protection either.”
In two minutes they were at the dock. Even with no activity in sight, they were cautious. Until Mike looked in the boat. “Shalin was out getting groceries?” His voice was incredulous, rising more than a simple question would account for.
“Well, it is Thanksgiving.” She noticed Mike’s look, now of surprise. “Yeah, I know. She’s Kashmiri, and Kevin’s South African. Not a holiday in those places. Nor here, even. But remember, she’s invited all of us for dinner. And you know Shalin, she never does anything to do with food or holidays halfway.”
Greg had already picked up a bag and handed it to Mike. He now grabbed the second one and handed it to Beckie, saving the third for himself. “Ooof! I got the heavy one, I guess.”
They spent five minutes carrying the food to the kitchen and fitting the chilled items in the fridge and freezer. Back at the dock, Beckie looked around before stepping into the boat.
“Hop in. Let’s head to Port.” She pointed to the island with the hangar and airfield.
“Isn’t that where you said Shalin got shot from?”
“Yeah.” Beckie stared across the water, eyeing the distance. “Less than a thousand yards. I couldn’t make the shot, but Ian? Kevin? Pieter, certainly. And he missed his target, probably, hitting her leg.” She shook her head.
“Okay,” Mike said. “If we go there, what’s the plan? We’re not so heavily armed, you know. Unless this thing has torpedoes or something.” Beckie shot him a glance before seeing the snarky humor; she giggled at his smirk.
“Well, it’s not all laid out like in stories or movies, but…” Since they had boarded, she untied the line and waved to Greg, sitting aft by the engine. “Yeah,” she said to his querying gaze, “might as well use the outboard.”
