the ‘Attractive Assassin.’ The men at No Se Preocupe were true assassins.
Professionals! The police would have telegraphed their arrival in the silent Tigre
night long before they reached the camp gates. Lonnie was outside, enjoying
the beautiful night while keeping watch and listening on the dock. He had
heard nothing until the sledgehammer fell!
With the exception of his roughly cropped hairstyle, Lonnie De Seta
looked, for all the world, like a successful business executive in his blue silk
double-breasted suit and Newton’s alumni tie. A jaunty straw fedora solved
the coiffure problem, and a pair of dark sunglasses further shielded his true
identity. He had thrown an assortment of clothes and keepsakes in a folding
leather club bag, then slowly made the heartbreaking walk to the main floor
entrance foyer. His eyes darted everywhere as he moved, searching, reflecting,
inspecting, remembering.
“Good-bye, dear Oli. I will miss you more than you will ever know. Now,
make sure there is not a word of this visit to my mother, or I will be forced to
break my vacation short and arrive unannounced again to tickle you for your
indiscretions.”
He bent forward from the waist and kissed the native woman on her
cheek. In all the years of their friendship, it was the one act of affection that he
had never thought of committing. The fugitive’s eyes welled with tears behind
his dark glasses as he turned and left the shocked lady muttering his name in
the doorway.
It was an easy walk from Lonnie’s home to the Banco Rio de la Plata on
Avenido San Martin. He had devised a scheme in his solitary hours in Tigre
that would allow him to circumvent the long queues at the teller’s wickets
and keep his public exposure to a minimum. That scheme was called Marla
Gallego.
Señorita Gallego was an assistant to branch manager Anthony Rodrigue’s
personal secretary. She was a nicely wrapped package that Señor Rodrigues
did not mind staring at through his office window. As a matter of fact, the top
executive had reorganized his outer office in order to afford himself a better
view of the young lady’s long, velvety gams and tight curves.
Marla Gallego was as friendly as she was erotically stimulating. She would
always strike up conversations with the bank clients waiting close to her desk
for their turn to pay homage to the boss. One of those conversations with
Lonnie De Seta culminated in the best fuck she had ever experienced. They
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had dated a few times, but Lonnie was too wild, and ultimately too moody for
the marriage-minded Marla. That did not stop her from often fantasizing about
their unions as she sat working at her desk near the marble-topped service
counter.
“Marla! Marla, can I talk with you for a moment?” The pretty clerk looked
up from her ledger at the stranger who was softly calling her name. She had no
idea who was hiding under the fedora and glasses.
“Marla, come here for a second. I have to talk to you.” The customer was
now motioning with his hand for her to approach the counter.
Who is this man that knows my name? I don’t recall him at all! she pondered.
More out of curiosity than courtesy, Marla finally gave in to the persistence
of her admirer. Even as they stood face-to-face over the counter, there was no
flash of recognition in her sweet mind.
“Marla, it’s me, Lonnie De Seta. How have you been? You look good
enough to eat!” The customer removed his dark glasses and doffed his hat
momentarily while making his introduction. He was totally unprepared for the
look of shock and horror that greeted the announcing of his name.
Marla’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets, and she backed up several steps
until she was flush against her desk. The sexy stenographer glanced around the
immediate area to make sure that no one was watching, then stepped cautiously
back to the counter. Her voice was barely a whisper when she finally spoke.
“Lonnie, are you in trouble? There are men here looking for you. They are
not bank people. They have guns under their jackets! We have all been told to
notify them if you or anyone else tries to make a transaction on your accounts.
They have been here waiting for you for several weeks. I don’t like them. They
are rude and ignorant scum. What is going on, Lonnie? We have only been told
that you may have been kidnapped, and that if you came here it would be to
collect ransom money against your will. They have told us that the men with
guns are here to protect you from your kidnappers. The longer those two swine
are around here, the less I believe that story. Tell me quickly now, before they
notice us!”
Lonnie De Seta had to grasp the bevelled edge of the counter for support.
He had walked into the lion’s den unprepared to tame the wild beasts. He just
wanted a few simple items, one small transaction, that was it. His knees buckled
and the remaining color drained from his face as Marla’s words registered.
“Marla, you must help me! I am not being held hostage by anyone, but
there are people who are after me. Those two thugs you speak of must be
working for the people that want me dead. Marla, you must trust me now, and
do as I ask.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and removed his wallet. The safety
deposit box key was then placed between them. Lonnie took a deposit slip and
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pen from the adjacent reservoir and scribbled several numerals. He then tore
the piece of paper in two.
“Here is the key to my safeety box. I have written its number on the
deposit slip. Write down your home phone number for me on this other half.
When you have the chance, go and empty the contents of my box and take
them home with you. I will call you tonight and make arrangements to pick
them up. Please, Marla, I am desperate! I have also written a check on my
account for some money. Take it, and try to get me whatever you can!”
“Lonnie, I can’t access your account. It has been frozen by the computers. I
can lend you a bit of money from my own account, but it will be nowhere near
the sum of this check. As for the deposit box, I need your signature to . . .”
Marla’s voice trailed off as her eyes focused on a figure approaching from
across the employee’s concourse.
“Lonnie you must get out of here now. One of those men is coming this
way. Here, this is my number. Call me tonight. I will see what I can do. Now,
go!”
She spun around quickly clutching the key and the piece of paper in her
small fist. Marla Gallego was seated and pouring over her ledgers by the time
the shadow of Astor Gordero’s operative fell across her desk.
Lonnie De Seta had reacted with equal stealth, mostly due to the enormous
amount of nervous adrenaline that was pounding through his veins. He moved
swiftly, but he was cautious not to attract undue attention. He allowed himself
one final glance back at Marla just as he was about to push the revolving door
and make his exit.
The young girl was visibly upset, and in that sp
lit second, his eyes met
those of the phony bank employee. The man shouted for his partner and reached
underneath his jacket to reveal the butt of an oversized handgun.
The wanted man was through the door and down the steps of the Banco
Rio de la Plata in a heartbeat. He barely felt the weight of his suitcase as he
searched desperately for a means of escape. There was only one obvious choice.
It was fortunate for Lonnie De Seta that Avenido San Martin was a
prosperous commercial street. It was also fortunate that due to the heavy
demands placed on city’s banks during World Cup Tournament, there was
always a profusion of yellow and black taxis adjacent to these institutions. It
was into the rear seat of one of these vehicles-for-hire that the desperado flung
himself.
“Hurry, I have a train to catch. Constitution Station, pronto!”
As the cabby wheeled from the curb, he took a good look at his passenger
in the rearview mirror.
“Hey, you’re not some kind of bank robber or something are you? I saw you
come down those steps in a real hurry. I don’t want any trouble or anything.”
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“Relax, my friend, I’m not going to hurt you. Just drive quickly!” Lonnie’s
hand gripped the handle of the Llama pistol that protruded from his waistband
under his suit-jacket.
“I had the misfortune of running into my lover’s husband in the bank
queue. It became a rather messy scene. He threatened to rearrange my anatomy
right then and there, so I decided that discretion was the better part of valor,
and I beat it! Now drive, amigo, for I must get out of the city for an extended
vacation. The man is a monster!”
The lusty smile that greeted the tall tale reassured Lonnie that the cabbie
was no longer a threat. He turned around to glance out the rear window.
“Don’t worry, Señor. No one will catch us. I drive like a Formula One
champion! Sit back, relax. I will take care of you.”
What Lonnie De Seta needed now was to disappear and rethink his course
of action. Everything rode on Marla being able to access his safety deposit
box. It would be several hours before she arrived home from the bank, and he
needed to formulate a contingency plan. The situation had gone from bad to
worse, and if things continued to unravel, there were very few people left that
could lend a helping hand.
Surrender was not even a consideration, for the stories of the barbaric
treatment of prisoners emanating from such places as Olimpo Prison made it a
moot point. He had to carefully plan his next move. It would have to be a plan
he could use if the sexy little bank employee came home empty-handed.
Constitution Station serviced the southern routes to and from the capital
city, and on this day in particular, the mammoth structure filled Lonnie’s needs
perfectly. Both the approaches and the passenger concourse were teeming with
newly arrived football fanatics and weekend revellers, all in a party mood.
The atmosphere had a distinct Brazilian flavor about it, for thousands of
the samba men’s devotees had made the trip north from their headquarters at
Mar del Plata. They were arriving en mass to spur their heroes on to victory in
Saturday’s third-place battle against Italy. It was as if an impromptu carnival
had erupted, and each successive trainload of visitors added to the frivolous
mood of merriment. The drums, the whistles, the music. The samba beat had
reached the capital city for the first time in the tournament.
The man running for his life lurked in the shadows of the taxi’s backseat.
He kept a sharp eye on both the crowd and the cab’s meter. It soon became
evident that their progress would be slowed to a crawl by the surging throng
that spilled out onto the main thoroughfares surrounding the station.
His freedom flight had been expensive. The fare of almost eight thousand
pesos, or ten American dollars, virtually cleaned out all his financial reserves.
He pondered the possibility of bolting from the crawling vehicle and dissolving
into the crowd.
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Lonnie knew that he would be slowed by the bulky club bag, and the
last thing he needed was the notoriety of some irate cabbie screaming at the
bystanders that he had been robbed or cheated. No, he was painfully aware that
the only option here was the straight and narrow. He had enough money left to
make a few phone calls and maybe buy a cup of coffee, that was it!
“Look at those stupid assholes!” the cabbie shook his head in disgust.
“What the fuck do they have to celebrate? You would think that they were in
the championship final the way they are carrying on. Go home! Go back to
where you came from, you bunch of banana eaters!”
He was leaning out his driver’s door window screaming at the bemused
party makers. Lonnie threw a handful of peso notes into the front seat, slid
quietly out the rear passenger-side door onto the sidewalk, and disappeared into
the samba line. The loudmouth driver was now involved in a heated discussion
with several men dressed in yellow Brazilian football jerseys, and the last thing
that the hunted man needed was to become involved in an altercation.
The journey into the terminal proper was circuitous and boisterous to say
the least. Lonnie didn’t feel like dancing, but one glimpse of the olive green
militia uniforms that ringed the party scene convinced him that the snaking
samba line offered the anonymity he needed. The suitcase was a nuisance, but
finally after about ten minutes of rhythmic shuffling, he walked through the
open air portal and into the darkness of Constitution Station.
The national security forces were highly visible that weekend. Wherever
there was a chance of large groups of people congregating, the men in uniform
made their presence known. Police with dogs, mounted units on horseback
dressed in full riot gear, armored vehicles with their terrifying water canons,
and of course, scores of foot soldiers were all in attendance. As if that were not
sufficient, busloads of reserves were parked on quiet side streets in strategic
locations. The tournament had come off without any terrorist incidents thus
far, and both the governing junta and the common people of Argentina were,
for once, in agreement. A strong show of military muscle and an obvious
preparedness to defuse any ticklish situations were the best deterrents. No one
wanted it to rain on this parade!
Lonnie’s heart was pounding heavily as he finally managed to locate a
remote waiting area and plunk himself down on an empty wooden bench. He
was drenched in perspiration from his impromptu samba lesson. A discarded
newspaper became his shield from curious eyes as he opened it studiously and
pretended to pour over its pages. His eyes were unable to focus on any but the
largest headlines, however, for the thoughts racing through his mind dealt only
with his own survival.
It was over one half hour before he dared to lower his pulp protector and
scan the area for any overt interest in his being. Much to his relief, the festivities
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taking place outside in the open air were much more interesting than the now
rumpled transient. No one gave the ‘Attractive Assassin’ a second glance.
By five-thirty in the afternoon, he got up enough nerve to try Marla’s
home phone number. The banks closed at four o’clock, so there was a chance
that she might have had enough time to make it to her flat, which was not
a great distance from the Banco Rio de la Plata. He knew that on Fridays,
the employees seldom left the branch before six o’clock, but he was so bored,
he figured that he had nothing to lose. To his amazement, his former lover
answered the phone after just one ring.
“Hello, Marla, it’s Lonnie. How are things? Are you alright?” There was
dead silence on the end of the receiver.
“Marla, are you there? Can you hear me? It’s Lonnie. I’ve been waiting for
. . .”
“Lonnie, I can hear you, although the sound of your voice is like a
nightmare to me. I am so confused and frightened.” Her voice was a tearful
whisper, barely audible over the stacic-riddled phone lines.
“Marla, were you able to get into my safety-deposit box? What did that
man say to you after I left? How about the cash? Were you . . .?”
“Lonnie, listen to me. I don’t know what kind of trouble you are in, but
why did you have to involve me in your deceptions? I haven’t seen or talked to
you in over a year, then suddenly you turn up out of the blue one day and all
hell breaks loose.” Lonnie could sense the fear in her voice turning to anger.
“I don’t have anything for you tonight, and I won’t be able to help you, ever!
That agent wanted to know who the man was that I had been talking to. He
said that he had never seen you before in the branch. The bank has surveillance
cameras everywhere, especially in the vaults where the safety-deposit boxes
are located. One of the men works the floor of the bank, the other one is in a
back room monitoring the cameras. If I ever set foot in that area after today,
they would know I was your accomplice. Frankly, Lonnie, you are not worth
the risk to me!” She was talking so quickly now that she had to stop to catch
her breath.
“Don’t be frightened, Marla, just tell me what happened.”
“Don’t be frightened? Fuck you, Lonnie! They pulled me into Señor
Rodrigue’s office for over an hour and treated me like I was dirt! I won’t be
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