Where There's Smoke (59 page)

"Someone's out there," he mouthed.

He signaled Lara to crouch behind the credenza.
 
She adamantly shook her head and headed for the door.
 
He grabbed the back of the loose dress and brought her up short.
 
Furious, she spun around and glared at him.
 
But her glare fizzled beneath his, so she did as he instructed and crouched down at the end of the credenza.
 
Father Geraldo knelt beside her.

By now she too heard the faint rustling of footsteps beyond the door.

Key crept closer to it.
 
He had propped the rifle against the desk, but was holding the handgun out in front of him as though he fully intended to use it.

What if they had caught Emilio off guard?
 
What if he'd heard their approach and, fearing for his life, had hidden in another room?

He was barely more than a boy, and he'd been loyal to Randall and her.

He might know the location of Ashley's grave.
 
Key, with his trigger-happy reflexes, could shoot him the instant he appeared in the doorway.

Lara held her breath and listened.
 
Unmistakably the footsteps were coming nearer, although the one making them was trying to go undetected.
 
His approach was halting, as if he, too, was pausing occasionally to listen.
 
Finally the footsteps ceased.
 
Unless her ears were playing tricks on her, the person had stopped just beyond the door, exactly as they had done before Key forced open the door with the butt of his rifle.

Lara watched in dread as he aimed the gun at the doorway.

There was movement in the opening.

Lara surged to her feet and rushed forward.
 
"Emilio, look out!"

Chapter TWENTY'-One artled by her shout, Key spun around and backhanded her, knocking her to the floor.
 
Then, hearing a sound in the doorway, he dropped, rolled, and fired three times.

The blast echoed in the empty building, causing Lara momentary deafness.
 
She tasted blood.
 
Woozy and stunned, she struggled to a sitting position and looked toward the doorway.
 
On the threshold, one side of his body opened by gunshots, lay a goat.

"Fuck!"
 
Key yanked Lara to her feet and shook her hard.
 
"What the hell were you thinking?"
 
He shoved her toward the door.
 
"Let's get the hell out of here.
 
Come on, padre.
 
In a minute or less this place is going to be crawling with troops."

Stumbling from the room, she barely avoided stepping in the gore.

Key splayed his hand on her back and pushed her ahead of him down the staircase and through the formal reception halls on the ground floor.

Her lip was throbbing; she knew it was rapidly swelling.

When they reached the rear door through which they'd entered, Key jerked her to a halt.
 
Cautiously he poked his head outside and surveyed the immediate area.
 
Lara glanced at Father Geraldo.

Breathing heavily, he was supporting himself against the doorjamb.

Sympathetically he passed her a handkerchief.
 
She blotted her lip with it; it came away stained with blood.

Key said, "Let's go.
 
But keep your head down and be ready to run for cover.
 
There could be snipers on the roofs."

He gripped her hand and made a dash for the jeep.
 
He hoisted her into the passenger's seat, then ran around to the driver's side, taking over Father Geraldo's position as driver.
 
The priest didn't seem to mind.

Without argument he scrambled into the backseat only seconds before the jeep lurched toward the nearest alley.

Key stayed off the main roads, driving at a breathtaking speed down one alley and up another, dodging heaps of garbage and warfare debris, unpredictably switching directions like a crazed animated character in a video game.

"Did I hurt you?"
 
He gave Lara a swift glance.

"Of course you hurt me.
 
You hit me.

"If you'd kept your butt where I'd told you to keep it, it wouldn't have happened."
 
He swerved to avoid colliding with a youth on a bicycle.
 
"Jumping up and hollering like that.
 
Jesus Christ!"
 
He banged his fist on the steering wheel.
 
"You were a prime target for whoever was outside that door.
 
I didn't have time to ask you nicely to duck.
 
I knocked you down to save your life."

"From a goat?"

"I didn't know it was a goat and neither did you.

"I thought it was Emilio."

"And what if it had been?
 
Were you hoping he'd kill me?"

"I was trying to keep you from killing him."

"I've got more self-control than that."

"Do you?"

He stopped the jeep so suddenly that she was pitched forward.

"Yes, I do.
 
And you, better than anybody, ought to know that."
 
His eyes held hers for several telling seconds.

Finally she turned away.

Key whipped his head around.
 
"Well, padre, what do you think of the day so far?"

Father Geraldo lowered a flask from his mouth and wiped it with the back of his hand.
 
"It's a shame we had to leave the goat.
 
It would have fed several families."

Key looked ready to throttle him, but the priest's droll comment struck Lara as funny, and she began to laugh.
 
Father Geraldo laughed too.

Eventually Key acknowledged the macabre humor of the moment with a taut smile.

"Ah, hell."
 
He sighed, throwing back his head and gazing up at the patch of sky visible above the two buildings between which they were parked.
 
"A goddamn goat."

Once their laughter subsided, he turned to Lara and touched her lower lip.
 
He winced with regret when his fingertip picked up a bead of fresh blood.
 
"It was reflex.
 
I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's nothing."
 
She dabbed the cut with the tip of her tongue and tasted not only her blood but the slightly salty spot where his fingertip had been.
 
"I don't want to stop the search now."

"It's incredible to me that the credenza was spared.
 
Either it's a miracle, or Emilio is alive and has recently been in that office setting things right.
 
Those were his eyeglasses.
 
I'd swear to it.

He's been there recently."

"Well, he won't be back today.
 
If he was lurking around somewhere, we surely scared the hell out of him."

He was probably right, Lara thought.
 
Emilio was her best chance of gleaning information-if he was indeed still alive and if she could coax him out of hiding.
 
She intended to return to the embassy later, with or without Key and Father Geraldo, and stay through the night if necessary in order to make contact with her husband's former aide.
 
Key would have a litany of objections against that strategy, so she decided to postpone telling him her intentions for as long as possible.

There were, however, other avenues she could explore in the meantime.

"Father Geraldo, wouldn't Ashley's death be a matter of public record?"

"Perhaps.
 
Before the revolt, this nation made stabs at being civilized.
 
If the records haven't been destroyed, they would be on file at city hall."

"What kind of red tape would you have to cut through to get to them?"

Key asked.

"I won't know until I try."

"If it's known what you're looking for, we'd just as well raise a red flag."

The priest thought about the dilemma for a moment.
 
"I'll tell them I'm looking for the records of someone named Portales.
 
Portales, Porter.

If the death certificates are filed alphabetically, Ashley's name should be in the same volume."

"Volume?
 
Aren't they computerized?"
 
Key asked.

"Not in Montesangre," Father Geraldo replied with a rum-induced smile.

It turned out to be remarkably simple.
 
After the incident at the pillaged embassy, they almost didn't trust their good fortune.

Not quite half an hour after Father Geraldo had left them in the jeep, parked on a side street a couple of blocks from the courthouse, he returned, walking jauntily and wearing a happy grin.
 
"God has blessed us," he told them as he climbed into the backseat.

Although he'd been gone only a short while, to Lara it had seemed like an eternity.
 
She feared that no records would be found and that this errand would produce no new information.
 
Key, pretending to take a siesta beneath his straw hat, had kept careful watch, fearing that they would attract attention.

Ciudad Central was a city in turmoil, but a fair amount of commerce was still being conducted.
 
People moved from place to place in the lumbering city buses, in private cars, on bicycle, and on foot.

For all the movement, however, one didn't get a sense of bustling activity.

The pervasive mood was one of wariness.
 
People didn't collect in clusters to chat, lest their reason for gathering be misinterpreted by the soldiers in the military vehicles that imperiously sped along the thoroughfares.
 
Children were kept near their nervous, cautious mothers.
 
Shopkeepers transacted business without engaging their customers in lengthy conversations.

Lara and Key were relieved to see Father Geraldo return.
 
"You found out where Ashley's buried?"
 
Lara asked eagerly.

"No, but there was a death certificate.
 
It was signed by Dr. Toma's Soto Quiriones."

"Let's go," Lara told Key, motioning for him to start the jeep.

"Hold on.
 
This Soto," he said, turning to Father Geraldo, "who's side is he on?"

Lara was impatient to follow up on the clue.
 
"It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't."

"He's a doctor.
 
So am I. That takes precedence over political affiliations.
 
He'll extend me a professional courtesy."

"Will you grow up?"
 
Key said with exasperation.
 
"For all you know he's El Corazon's brother-in-law or a spy for Esca'ver.
 
Either way, if we go barging in there and say the wrong thing, we're screwed."

"Excuse me."
 
Addressing Key, Father Geraldo played peacemaker.

"In my work, I've crossed paths with Dr. Soto several times.
 
I've never known him to profess allegiance to any particular faction.
 
He treats the wounded of all sides, much as I do."

"See?
 
Now can we go?"

Key ignored Lara.
 
"Even if he's sympathetic, he'd be risking his neck to help us.
 
The potential danger could make him reluctant to talk.
 
He might outright refuse.
 
Worst-case scenario is that he'll sic El Corazon's death squads on us."

"I'm willing to take the chance," Lara said adamantly.

"You're not the only one involved."

"If you won't go with me, I'll go alone."

Key tried to intimidate her with his stare.
 
When she held her ground, he turned to Father Geraldo.
 
"What's your gut instinct on el doctor?"