Betrayed (27 page)

Yes, everyone who knew Holly had seen her PDA.

No, it had not been left with them when Holly traveled or among the belongings Rosario and Beatriz turned over for Holly’s next-of-kin.

No, Holly had not confided in them more than a normal frustration with the deteriorating ecological situation.

Alpiro treated Bill with a polite deference he showed no one else. Just what influence did the American wield up here? Michael, his translation services no longer necessary, watched both Americans instead, his features impassive. What was he thinking?

Cesar was last. Vicki, as bored by now as Joe looked, straightened up as two uniforms pushed the veterinary resident to a seat. This time there was no mistaking his expression. He was absolutely rigid with terror. Yes, he had carried out Holly’s instructions. No, why would she confide in him? He was only a lowly resident. If she had complaints, she would raise them with his superiors, Rosario and Beatriz.

No, he had never diverted any of their wildlife charges to the black market. This last accusation stung him to a forceful denial. He leaned forward earnestly, indignation for the first time overcoming fear.

Michael gave Colonel Alpiro a slight gesture. Then the UPN commander waved for Cesar to go. Vicki swallowed her distaste at the complacent approval with which Alpiro followed Cesar’s unsteady progress across the thatched shelter to where volunteers and staff alike were still corralled under the intimidation of three automatic rifles.

Alpiro likes people to be afraid of him. No, he takes it for granted
.

The search had petered out by the time the interviews finished. Vicki counted seven PDA units of various brands. None matched Holly’s, but under Alpiro’s scrutiny, Vicki went through the motions of turning each on. Colonel Alpiro and Michael verified the language involved to be German.

As Alpiro’s frown deepened, Vicki caught the urgent murmur of a squad leader. “There is equipment that could hide such a device. The clinic. The office. The animal quarters. Perhaps if your orders were modified—”

Vicki was about to voice her protests, but Michael intervened. “Coronel, if
la americana
left behind such a device, it would be for safekeeping and to be easily retrieved, not inside equipment that is in use or under an animal cage. The minister of environment would not appreciate having to replace—”

To Vicki’s relief, Alpiro nodded. She felt let down and not just because of angry glares from volunteers repossessing their electronics. The Germans hadn’t missed Vicki’s silent participation in the interviews.  She hadn't expected this to be easy, but she'd hoped for something! 

Only now did Vicki realize how late it was. The sun was high above the forest canopy, past time for the midday meal. The kitchen shelter had been restored to reasonable order. But the gas burners were still off with no signs of meal preparation. Or Maria.

Vicki heard a child sobbing only because the turmoil of soldiers, angry volunteers, and excited animals had largely abated. And because she’d heard it so many times in so many places. She turned to see Maria stepping noiselessly from behind a tree toward the kitchen shelter. She wasn’t alone. Clinging to her were two smaller versions of the black braids, hand-embroidered shirts, and red wraparound skirts. The girls were maybe five and seven years old.

Vicki noticed a flash of emotion as Maria took in the uniforms and weapons before her round, dark features settled into stoical lines. Slipping into the kitchen shelter, she turned on the burners.

The UPN troops were starting back toward the transport vehicle, allowing their recent captives to scatter. The volunteers headed immediately toward their quarters.

Catching sight of her tardy cook, Beatriz started toward the kitchen with a frown. Vicki didn’t need to overhear to know she was giving Maria a tongue-lashing. The cook showed no reaction. Was it five hundred years of subjugation that had given the Mayans the ability to withdraw behind lowered eyes and blank impassivity?

If so, Maria’s companions had not yet learned to school their emotions. The frightened wail of the younger child drew Vicki over.

Beatriz pushed by as Vicki entered the kitchen shelter, pausing only to snap at Vicki, “Let the volunteers know dinner will be an hour delayed."

But Vicki wasn’t the only one who’d responded to the children’s distress.

“
Tío
Cesar!” The two girls threw their arms around him. Still looking shaken by his ordeal, he stooped to shush the girls in mixed Spanish and Mayan.

“Uncle Cesar?” Vicki stared at him with surprise. “Then you’re from the village here? These are your nieces?”

“Not my nieces but family.”

Vicki knew the custom of calling any close adult acquaintance aunt or uncle, as the Casa de Esperanza children had called her
Tía
Vee-kee.

Cesar straightened, the girls still clinging tightly to him, to address Maria.

Joe must have fixed the water problem before things broke loose because Maria had a pot filling up and was dumping onions, garlic heads, and tomatoes on the wooden table. A sharp knife sliced briskly through the vegetables as she answered Cesar in her Mayan dialect.

Cesar turned to Vicki. “She is late because the army came to the village this morning. They took everyone to the plaza and searched every house before they were allowed to depart. She apologizes that the food will be tardy. And for bringing her cousin’s children to work.”

“The food doesn’t matter. Please tell her that. But I am so sorry about this morning.” Vicki looked down at the girls pressed close into his sides. “Why are they so upset? Did they hurt them?”

“No, no. No one was hurt. Nor did the soldiers steal anything this time. They said they were searching for valuables stolen from the center.” Cesar studied Vicki. Did he realize this was all her doing? “Alicia and Gabriela are just very frightened. They are . . . their families were killed—shot—not long ago. They’re afraid the soldiers are here to destroy this village too.”

“Oh no!” The realization was a sickness in Vicki’s stomach. “You mean the massacre up here a couple months ago? They were there? But I thought there were no survivors.”

“No, their father—my cousin—had brought them here to Maria to go to school until a teacher should arrive to the schoolhouse there. They know only that their parents and younger brother are dead. When they saw the soldiers and the army, they believed—”

Vicki could imagine only too well what these girls had believed. The images were real enough in her mind to be her own. Their distress was tearing at Vicki’s heart. She tugged at their embroidered
huipiles
until two tear-filled pairs of eyes looked at her. Vicki had no idea how well they understood Spanish, but she put all the authority she could into her voice. “You are safe now. The soldiers won’t hurt you. I won’t let the soldiers hurt you.”

Then Vicki stormed back through the thatched shelter. Michael was talking with Colonel Alpiro beside the command Jeep when she caught up to him. He smiled at Vicki.

Vicki burst out in English. “Did you know your soldiers invaded the village this morning? They dragged everyone out of their houses searching for Holly’s PDA. Scared those two little girls
sick
! I thought the days of army brutality were over!”

Bill and Joe, lifting some tools into the back of Bill’s pickup, stopped to listen with undisguised interest.

Michael was no longer smiling. “You’re upset, and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

As Vicki gritted her teeth at his sharp rebuke, he dropped his voice to calm reasonableness. “Look, you complained that the Guatemala City police hadn’t done a proper investigation. Well, this is the investigation you asked for. This is the way it’s done here. Quick and efficient and over. Have you heard that anyone was hurt? Anything stolen? Any property destroyed?”

Vicki shook her head.

He hammered in his point. “Then you’ve no idea what army brutality down here entails.”

Vicki was feeling hugely deflated. If Michael had wanted to convince her to quit this quest altogether, he couldn’t have gone about it better. What had she put in motion? That he was right didn’t make it more palatable. Bill and Joe turned away as she glanced at them. She swallowed, searching for an apology that wouldn’t further her humiliation.

But static from a radio at Bill’s belt interrupted them. It was followed almost instantly by a crackle in Colonel Alpiro’s hand.

Bill looked across at Michael to announce coolly, “It seems your men—or Alpiro’s here—also feel the need to invade my home.”

Alpiro said in Spanish, “Señor Taylor, my men inform me that your guards have prevented them from completing their orders. They have taken up defensive positions on the perimeter of your property.” He drummed his fingers against the radio. “Your residence alone remains of our search. Perhaps it is not necessary. The army lieutenant accompanying my men tells me his commander has given special orders concerning you.”

“No!”

Alpiro looked at Bill with as much surprise as Vicki.

Bill held up a hand. “No, I wouldn’t want anyone to question later why my home alone remains unsearched. I’ll give my guards instructions to cooperate. As I’d have been happy to do, had I known in advance of your intentions. I would appreciate, though, if they could hold off until I can be present. Then I can reassure
el comandante
that your men didn’t damage my property.”

Colonel Alpiro nodded.

As he spoke tersely into his radio, Vicki spun around to Michael. “I want to go too.” If she’d loosed this on Bill, the least she could do was be there for support.

She tensed herself for an argument, but Michael just jerked his head toward the front seat. “Then climb in.”

Bill’s house was less than five minutes away at the speed with which the army Jeep took the dirt track. Another Jeep was pulled up outside the gate, its contingent hunkered down behind its cover, weapons trained on the knoll where Bill’s house sat. The workers were nowhere in sight, but as Colonel Alpiro had indicated, the plantation guards were very much in evidence, at least three shotgun barrels visible above the planters that lined the veranda.

Bill’s pickup pulled up behind the army vehicles. As he got out to open the gate, the guards on the veranda stood up and lowered their shotguns. Bill took the lead to the driveway, the three army vehicles parking behind him. Only the command vehicle unloaded. Colonel Alpiro waved for the other troops to stay where they were.

Bill led the way inside. Despite the unpleasantness of the visit, Vicki looked around with interest. The interior was largely open, the walls whitewashed plaster, the flooring a red-earth tile. Beyond a huge stone fireplace was a surprisingly modern kitchen and doors opening into two bedrooms and a bathroom.

Couches and chairs upholstered in tanned cowhide were grouped around the fireplace. The walls held bookshelves and native tapestries as well as beautiful specimens of
típica
, as handwoven Mayan clothing, hats, and bags were termed. Bill had his own generator because there were floor lamps. An entertainment center held a stereo, VCR, DVD player and a flat-screen TV. Through the office door Vicki could see a computer and radio equipment.