At one point Eduardo came up to her, one arm flung across Pretty Pablito's shoulders. Pablito still wore his sulk, most likely, Beth thought, his default look.
"We're about to leave. Want us to drop you home?" Eduardo asked.
Beth turned to Lucinda and Charles, who were exchanging a look of complicity, first with one another, then jointly with Eduardo.
"Thanks, but I think I'll stay a while longer," Beth said.
"You're in good hands, I can see that." Again Eduardo exchanged a smile with Charles and Lucinda.
"Thanks for bringing me," Beth said, as Eduardo kissed her cheek.
Her gratitude was sincere. With Eduardo's help, she believed, she had finally gained entry to the secret world of Buenos Aires, a night world of shimmering beauty, danger and decadence of which she'd heard rumors, about which she'd fantasized, and which, before tonight, she'd seriously doubted did actually exist. Now that she found it did, she was thrilled.
Maybe this is what I came here for without even knowing it, she thought. And at that she realized that this was the first milonga she'd attended since arriving in B.A. at which she'd not looked around the dance floor searching for Mr. DD.
An hour later, arms linked, they descended the stairs, Beth in the middle, Lucinda and Charles on either side. Once on the street, Charles left them, reappearing a couple of minutes later wearing a chauffeur's cap, driving the most beautiful dark green vintage car Beth had ever seen.
"What is this?" she asked, getting into the back with Lucinda, luxuriating in the soft, cream-colored, glove-leather upholstered seats.
"A restored Facel Vega," Charles said, doffing his cap. "Where to, Señoras?"
"Home, of course!" Lucinda commanded. Then turning to Beth: "Unless you'd rather we drop you off...."
Beth looked at her, met her smile. "I'll go where you go," she said.
"Good girl!"
Then, as Charles hit the gas and the old car accelerated, Lucinda put her arm around Beth, drew her close, cuddled with her, stroked her cheek, kissed her hair and then her lips.
The house was amazing, Beth thought, though she didn't get a close look at it until the following day. It was a white cubic Art Deco structure, with a marvelous staircase that curved up from the two-story front hall. Moreover, it was situated in the best part of Belgrano, an exclusive neighborhood of splendid old mansions on shady, tree-lined streets.
Strangely, as far as she could see, most of the rooms downstairs were empty of furniture. In the huge living room she saw only a two seat sofa and a single chair. The dining room had been turned into a ballet studio, with a ballet bar running the length of the room and the opposite wall paneled in mirrors. But that first night, she didn't have much time to look around. Charles and Lucinda, giggling, led her up the curving staircase to a cavernous bedroom on the second floor, where, within seconds, they stripped off their clothes, helped her out of hers, then each taking one of her hands, led her to an enormous bed.
The linens here were as fine as any that had ever touched her skin. And judging by their aroma, they'd been washed with the same soap she'd smelled on the couple when they'd danced. But she didn't have much time to concentrate on the linens, for soon the pair were making love to her, lavishing her with attention.
It was as if they feasted upon me, she thought later, when she looked back on the first night she spent between them.
At noon, when she woke up, they made a big fuss over her, taking her breakfast order, then bringing it to her on a tray. While she ate, they plopped down on either side of her in their creamy soft terry cloth robes, telling her much they enjoyed her company in their smart British-accented English.
"We knew you'd be jolly good in bed. The way you danced told us that," Charles said.
"She's got that ex-factor, doesn't she?" Lucinda asked Charles. "And so wickedly slutty too, aren't you, pet?"
Lucinda gazed at Beth with a querying look, then took a quick peck at Beth's cheek.
Viewing them as a couple, Beth quickly decided that Lucinda was the leader, Charles her accommodating confederate. Certainly Lucinda had taken the lead in their lovemaking the night before, while Charles had played the assistant role, nipping at her here and there, stroking her as she and Lucinda went at it. It had been a unique experience for Beth, and also, she admitted, highly pleasurable. She'd never tasted a woman before. She was pleased to discover she liked it.
Sitting between them, sipping coffee, she felt herself yearning to be pleasured by them again.
Lucinda touched her nearest nipple. "You are such a desirable creature," she whispered. "Isn't she, Charles?"
Charles smiled. "Indeed."
"We should divide her up, darling, don't you think? Make a contest of it...left, right. See which one of us can please which half of her the most...."
Lucinda, letting go, gently reached for Beth's coffee cup, placed it on the breakfast tray, then removed the tray to the floor beside the bed.
"There! No more clutter to get in our way."
Lucinda stood, tossed off her robe, then, naked, snuggled down along side Beth and kissed her deeply, exploring the interior of her mouth. Moments later, Charles was naked too on her other side.
Beth lay back, opening herself.
Yes! devour me! she thought.
Later, wearing one of their spare soft creamy robes, Beth was taken by Lucinda on a tour of the house.
"No, we don't much care for furniture," Lucinda said, explaining the empty public rooms downstairs. "It just gets in the way, don't you think? Anyway, we hated the stuff our parents had. Old fashioned and fussy. We sold off every bloody piece."
Our parents. Beth picked up on that.
"Charles is your boyfriend, right?"
Lucinda smiled. "And more."
"How much more?" Beth asked.
"Ever see Chinatown?"
Beth stared at her. Suddenly she felt a chill.
"Remember the scene near the end: 'My daughter, my sister; my daughter, my sister.' Charles and I always get a kick out of that."
"You're saying you're related?"
Lucinda nodded. "Charles is my younger brother. My lover too. A pretty decadent relationship to outsiders, we imagine, though it seems perfectly natural to us. After all, to whom can one feel closer than a person with whom one shares blood? And if there're erotic feelings, and he/she's of the opposite gender...well then love will find its way."
Beth was stunned. Who are these people? But then, taking in Lucinda's response, appreciating the fact she didn't try to deny what should have been obvious on account of the similar way she and Charles looked, Beth decided, for the time being, to put her reservations aside. She was not, she was surprised to discover, in any way horrified, rather amazed, and, she admitted to herself, fascinated too.
I can't walk away. This is too interesting. At the very least I owe it to myself to see how this plays out.
Their last name was Céspedes. Both their parents, Lucinda told her, were deceased. They'd inherited their father's property, including this house, an estancia out in the pampas, and their father's collection of vintage cars of which the Facel Vega was but one.
Lucinda confirmed that the dining room had been used for ballet practice. Their Spanish mother, she explained, had been an accomplished ballerina. Now she and Charles used it as their personal fencing salon. She opened a cabinet to show Beth an array of equipment—masks, gloves, chest protectors, and a selection of foils, sabers and épées.
"We adore swordplay," she said. "Do you fence, Beth?" And when Beth shook her head: "Then we'll have to teach you. A fencing master trains us here three afternoons a week. He can train you too. We love all combat sports—judo, karate, aikido, wrestling, kick-boxing. Have you ever boxed? It's great exercise. I'll show you. You'll like it, I'm sure. We also have a great gym in the cellar, everything one needs to stay in shape."
But the best part of the house, toward which Lucinda was leading her, was the spa—a large room with bleached wood-lined
sauna, Japanese hot tub and whirlpool, the walls, floor and ceiling covered by gleaming white porcelain tiles.
"We love it here, even though when the sun pores in, it gets so bright you're forced to squint. It's the whiteness of it, the cleanness that's so appealing. After a night out dancing we usually come in here for a steam-and-soak." She smiled at Beth. "Last night, of course, we were 'otherwise engaged'."
Finally, Lucinda led her out to the garden, a lushly planted walled-in area behind the house where they came upon Charles, lying naked on a chaise, immersed in what looked to be a beautiful, hand-bound French book.
Lucinda called out to him. Then, sotto voce to Beth: "As usual he's reading Baudelaire. He has a degree from Cambridge in Romance Languages. Such an intellectual, my little bro!"
"I heard that, sweetbird."
"I expected you would."
Charles put down his book so that it covered his private parts. "Why not let Beth find out about us gradually? It'll be more interesting for her that way."
"I'm already plenty interested," Beth said.
"From the way you say that, I gather Lucinda's told you our little secret."
"I did," Lucinda said. "Better she hear it from us now, than from some disapproving person later on. Most people think we're cuckoo," she explained to Beth.
"Except for our friends, of course."
"Yes, except for our friends...."
Again, Beth had the feeling that they were playing a game with her, but this time it didn't seem to involve betrayal. Rather something in the nature of "we'll-give-you-a-little-glimpse-at-our-decadent-lifestyle-then-see-how-you-react."
"Well, I don't disapprove, if that's what you're hinting," Beth told them. "I'm a firm believer in the notion that people can do as they like so long as nobody gets hurt."
"A libertarian! Here, here! And so very 'San Francisco.'" Charles turned to Lucinda. "Like what she's saying, sweetbird?"
"Very much! Listen, Beth, we've talked it over. We'd like you to stay here with us for a while. For as long as you like, actually. How would you feel about that?"
"You mean move in?"
Lucinda nodded. "We've loads of room. You'd have your own suite. Your own key too so you can come and go as you please. You can accompany us on our nightly forays. Or not. We understand you came to Buenos Aires to dance. We go out dancing a lot, but sometimes in the evenings we do other things—attend parties, the opera, whatever. Joining us would be up to you. No strings. What do you say?"
Beth was flabbergasted. "I'm flattered, of course...."
"Why don't you think it over?" Charles said. "Let us know when you decide."
"Yes, thank you, I'll do that. But I really must ask why me? I mean, you barely know me. I'm a few years older. I don't think of myself as being that exciting."
"Let's just say we find you refreshing. Like a breath of fresh air in our stale old Argentine lives. As Charles said, please give it some thought and let us know." Lucinda beamed. "And now...how about lobster for lunch?"
There was an allure about them that so fascinated her, she felt herself helpless to resist. Their androgyny, first of all—Lucinda's commanding manner and Charles effeminacy. Then their similarity matching complexions, aromas, hair, British accents, seductive smiles. Most of all, she thought, it was their eyes—green eyes from which, when they locked with hers, she found herself unable to disengage. Eyes so deep and beautiful, she thought, no human being ought to be allowed to possess them.
They left the garden, returned to the bedroom, made love again, then visited the spa for a long soak together in the Japanese tub. Then they went out to a nearby restaurant for the promised lobster. Then Beth took a cab back to Sabina's to deliver the news that she was moving out.
"But you only just moved in!" Sabina protested.
"I know. I feel bad about that. I hope you're not annoyed."
"Did you find your Mr. DD?"
Beth shook her head. "No, but I found someone else. Much more serious than Fernando. I owe it to myself to give this new relationship a chance."
Sabina was the only one home. The other resident milongueras were out attending class.
"Fernando was worried about you. The poor boy actually wept. Kirstin was upset too. You should at least have called."
"I know. Thoughtless of me. This thing just happened, and now my life's all upside-down."
When she was packed, her suitcases lined up by the door, Sabina took her in her arms.
"If things don't work out, Beth, you're always welcome back. Even if I'm filled up, I'll find room for you."
They hugged again, Beth thanked her and started out the door.
"Please be sure and tell everyone good-bye for me," she said. "Tell them I'll see them at the clubs."
Chapter Nine
LA INCORRUPTA
We have a good life here," Leon whispered. "Why do you have to be La Incorrupta?"
Leon's reproach echoed within Marta as she and Leon locked eyes in the boarding area. Marina, clinging to Marta's hand, stared up in awe at the night ferry. It loomed before them like some great dark creature of the sea, devouring the cars as one by one as they drove into its cavernous hold.
"Why you? Why not someone else?" Leon had implored, after the tears and arguments were over.
The worst part for her was that she had no ready answer for him, could only smile weakly and repeat that for better or worse "La Incorrupta" had become her identity.
Leon and Marina were on board now, standing at the stern. The river smelled of mud and fog. She could tell from Marina's posture that she was crying. Leon stood glum beside her, still angry at this forced departure.
The engines began to throb as the boat eased its way out of its berth. Marta waved. Marina, wearing a red coat, waved back. Leon continued to glare. But Marta kept waving, until, as the boat began to turn down river, he finally waved back.
She blew them kisses, and then she too began to weep.
There was no wind, the river was smooth as glass. It would be a gentle voyage. They would arrive in Uruguay at six in the morning. Her mother would meet them. It would be a good adventure for Marina...or so Marta had told her.
But as the boat finished its turn, began to chug its way toward the middle of Río de la Plata, Marta wondered how long an adventure it would turn out to be. She had no idea. But wiping her eyes, she resolved she'd work day and night until she was certain it was safe to bring Marina home.
She'd promised Leon she wouldn't sleep in their apartment, that she'd stay with Rolo and Isabel. Instead she checked into the Residencia Europa, a small hotel in her neighborhood that catered to foreign tango enthusiasts.
Her room was small, austere, and that suited her.
I'll be safe here. I'll move to a different hotel every couple of days...just like a felon on the lam.
The notion did not displease her.
I'm going to find those bastards, make them talk, make them give back my gun.
That would be her only objective now, the sole purpose of her existence.
In the morning, when Rolo picked her up, he hugged her, then presented her with a new pistol, cell phone and new Japanese watch. She kissed him, then told him they were dropping everything until they arrested the guys who'd abducted her.
On the way to the safe house, Marta described Knifeman's mustache and ring, and the scar on the driver's face.
"They were buddies," she told Rolo. "I could tell by the way they finished each other's sentences. They were long term partners, provincial cops, not federal I'm sure of it."
"How do you want to do this?"
"There're over forty thousand cops in Buenos Aires Province. I could look at ID photos for a month and still not recognize them. But I've got a hunch. The day we saw Kessler, I went over to the police gym to work out. Liliana Méndez was there. She asked me to spar with her. On account of the way she messed up the Silvia Santini crime scene, I always figured she was up to her hairy armpits in the murders. Anyway, there was someth
ing about her—the way she looked at me when she asked me to spar, then the knowing way she smiled when I blew her off."
"She's Federal Police."
"Yeah, but her father was a bigshot cop in Buenos Aires Province. Those guys could be his friends. It's a place to start."
Rolo nodded. "I know about her old man. Ubaldo Méndez was Chief of the Kidnapping Division, rotten to the core. They say he had his people do kidnappings then pretend to investigate them. That fits with the slick way you were abducted." He paused. "I know a narc who once tried to nail him for drug dealing. He never made the case, but he may know something that'll help us."
"Go to him, Rolo." She looked into his eyes. "They threatened Marina. Nothing is more important to me than this."
She didn't bother with an appointment, just marched into the Finance Ministry, flashed her badge at the guard, mounted the stairs, barged into Charbonneau's outer office, then brushed past an aide when he tried to block her way.
The ex-military priest, sitting behind his huge desk, stared at her as she burst into the room.
"I don't believe we were expecting you," he said, coolly, light glinting off his spectacles.
"I tried to stop her," the aide said. "We called Security."
"Never mind, she's a cop. Aggressive one too." Charbonneau dismissed his aide with a wave, then stared hard at Marta. "Say your piece, Inspector, and be quick about it. We're in crisis mode here. Last night we defaulted on two billion dollars worth of foreign loans."
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