“What was his uncle’s name?”
“Francisco Montez. I e-mailed Venable and asked for more information about him. He hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”
“I took a book from Montez’s backpack that he evidently wrote himself. Lots of chemical and mathematical equations. I gave it to Hu Chang to study.”
“I’ll ask to see it after he finishes with it.” She smiled. “Not that I think I’d be able to detect anything that he didn’t. Luke would look at me with infinite scorn.”
“Who knows? Maybe you’d see an answer to the break in the pattern.” She changed the subject. “What about Santos? Anything that you noticed about him?”
“Besides the fact that he’s a monster with no conscience? He enjoys torture and thinks of himself as being above any law. He was deserted by his father, raised by a prostitute mother, involved in gangs from the time he was eight. He hooked up with Delores Janvier when she was sixteen, and she appears to have become the center of his existence.”
“I know that.”
“I thought you would. She was fabulously beautiful and spent a fortune on clothes and makeup to stay that way. She clearly knew that was one of her prime weapons to keep Santos interested. But what I found very interesting about Delores was that he actually listened to her. His pattern seems to have been merged with hers.” She paused, then said hesitantly, “I believe she may have been in control of the relationship.”
“What?”
“I found that kind of weird, too, considering what a powerhouse Santos appeared to be to everyone around him. But as I went over the material, I noticed that several decisions and opinions that Santos stated were later changed to those that Delores advocated. And when questioned, he acted as if he’d never meant anything else. They went on quite a few vacation trips together, and it was always places that Delores chose. He not only loved her, he evidently respected her and wanted to please her above anything.”
Catherine pounced. “What places?”
“Several islands in the South Seas, twice to Egypt, once to Moscow, Trinidad, Grand Cayman, Jamaica.” She paused. “Buenos Aires.”
“Montez. Was Montez still in Argentina at that time?”
“Yes.” She added, “I checked that after I read the report on Montez. Though I don’t know if they made contact with him or for what purpose. But as far as I could tell, neither Santos nor Delores ever went there again.”
“What about Montez? Did he visit either one of them in Caracas?”
“Not according to Venable’s surveillance reports on Santos.” She paused. “But Dorgal visited Buenos Aires two months after Santos and Delores went there.”
“Popular place.”
“Not for Montez. He left Argentina and took his entire family to Guatemala City six months later. He appeared to have plenty of money and set them all up in fine style.”
“Drugs?” she murmured.
Kelly shrugged. “You’d have to tell me. Santos’s cartel could have had something to do with it. I haven’t found the pattern.”
“What else did you find out about Dorgal?”
“Very close to Santos, as you said. From the moment Santos was arrested, Dorgal was moving with the speed of light, talking to politicians and military. Then he disappeared under the radar, and no one knew where he was or what he was doing.”
“Probably setting up Santos’s new compound for the time when they managed to get him out of jail.”
“Anyway, Dorgal surfaced again about six weeks later. He took over de facto for Santos, running his cartel while he was in prison. He visited him weekly, so the orders probably came directly from Santos.”
“Did he visit anywhere else while Santos was in prison?”
“Trinidad, Curacao, Jamaica, several other islands in the Caribbean. Probably cartel business. Overnight visits, then he’d fly back to Caracas.”
“Guatemala?”
“Only once.”
The day he’d arranged with Nagoles to kill Eduardo Montez’s brother and sent Eduardo running for the hills. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “I only have what Venable gave me. I’m sure CIA surveillance is good, but that doesn’t mean that Dorgal wasn’t able to avoid it on occasion. Did I help at all?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Santos likes sunny places, and every location you mentioned is basking in sunlight. And that doesn’t mean that he might not have boarded a plane or boat out of one of those countries to his own private domain.”
“I’ll think about it, too,” Kelly said. “And I’ll double-check every stop they made and see if I can detect a pattern. Though I haven’t seen any sign of it yet.”
“You’ve done very well.” She got to her feet. “I didn’t expect you to pull a rabbit out of your hat. I knew it would take time, and I only hoped you could give me a clue.”
“I will. Maybe more than a clue.” She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her neck. “We’ll find him. It will all come together. I just have to relax and let the patterns form for me. It’s probably all here on this pad. I only have to connect the dots.”
“I can’t even see the dots,” Catherine said ruefully. “I’ll have to leave it to you.”
“You won’t do that. You’ll keep plugging along, just like I am.” She tilted her head. “And the reason you can’t see the dots is that it means too much to you. You’re overthinking the problem. My professors say that I do that sometimes. I reach for complexity and ignore simple applications.”
“At the moment, I’d embrace simplicity.” She headed for the door. “And right now I’m going to embrace the simplicity of my bed and eight hours sleep. Good night, Kelly.”
“Good night.” Her gaze was once more on her yellow pad. “You do that, Catherine.”
“You, too,” Catherine paused at the door. “Go to bed, young lady.”
“I will.” She didn’t look up from the pad. “Those dots are bothering me. Eduardo Montez. All those gaps. What was he doing? They were supposed to be only visits. But I don’t think that … I should be able to see something … Buenos Aires…”
* * *
Catherine’s cell phone rang as she came out of her bathroom after a shampoo and hot shower.
Cameron.
“Is everything okay with security?” she asked as she accessed the call.
“Excellent. I didn’t expect anything else, but it’s always smart to make sure everyone knows that there will be frequent checkups. It keeps them on their toes.”
“I’m sure Sam and Hu Chang are very good at that,” she said dryly.
“But some of those men are mine. They tend to accept orders better from me.” He paused. “You’re in bed? You didn’t sleep on the plane.”
“I will be soon. I just had a shower. I needed that more than sleep. Luke’s back in the house?”
“I just saw him go upstairs.” He chuckled. “After he went to see Sam in the kitchen. He told him that I had to stay here and asked which room he should give me. He didn’t mention that he hadn’t bothered to ask me if I was staying. He’s quite a kid. I’ve had some officers who had less grasp of sentry placement or decision making.”
“He was probably trained in a harsher school. And are you staying?”
“Why not? All the action seems to be centered here.” He paused. “You’re here.”
“Only until Hu Chang deciphers that book, or Kelly connects her dots.”
“Or Montez decides that he wants to give up being a pacifist and says that he’ll help us. Not likely, Catherine.”
“We’re moving, we’re not standing still.” But it felt like standing still, she thought wearily. Yet at least some good things were happening. Jane was better and might live. Santos had not been able to kill any other people she cared about.
Shallow victories that could change at any moment but she’d take them. “Now I’m going to sleep and forget all the negatives. I’ll see you in the morning, Cameron.”
He was silen
t. “I didn’t mean to be totally negative. I just have to be realistic.”
“Your whole philosophy is negative. That’s where we differ. You think the world is going to hell in a handbasket. I think there’s a chance, and we have to reach out and grab and hold tight.”
“I’m trying to grab and hold tight, just in a different way. I want us to be ready to come back from that hell.” He added brusquely, “But enough of that. I do have some news that isn’t totally negative. I called Dario, and he said that Dorgal’s men are searching that rain forest from the mountains to the border and still haven’t found Montez.”
“The monastery?”
“They searched there, too, and roughed up a few priests but left when they found nothing. Montez kept to his word and stayed away from there.”
“I thought he would. He’s already feeling guilty. He wouldn’t want to endanger anyone else after Father Gabriel’s death. He said he’d only contact them after it was safe.”
“Which it definitely isn’t at the moment. But Dario says that his tracker believes he knows the area where Montez might be hiding out. The foothills to the west are networked with dozens of caves, and he could be in one of them. Dario’s heading that way now.” He paused. “How is that for positive?”
“As good as we’ve gotten so far. You’ll tell me as soon as he’s confirmed Montez’s location?”
“Unless it’s the middle of the night. It won’t do me any good to wake you if we’re not moving on Montez. It will wait until morning. You need the sleep.”
“Yes, I do. So do you. Are you going to bed?”
“Certainly.” His voice was faintly mocking. “And I will sleep like a baby. It’s part of the discipline I was taught. The committee did their best to make sure that I had the control that was needed to be their security chief.” His voice lowered. “Though the discipline didn’t include ignoring the fact that I’m horny as hell and can’t stop thinking about you in that summerhouse with your legs wrapped around me. It’s definitely bothering me that you’re only a few rooms down the hall.”
It was bothering her, too. His words were soft, silken, and they were causing the muscles of her body to tense. “Then maybe it’s time you went back to your committee and took a refresher.”
He chuckled. “It wouldn’t do any good. You’re the only one to whom the discipline doesn’t apply. So I guess that I’ll go take a shower, too. And it won’t be a hot one. Then I’ll look at the map of the cave area Dario e-mailed me and see if I agree with him. Good night, Catherine.” He hung up.
And left her with that lingering heat and disturbing sexual changes that his words had brought. Forget the sexual implications, just remember what was important. Montez appeared to be temporarily safe. Cameron was here, and that automatically added an additional element of security.
Two positives.
Dry her hair, pull on her nightshirt, and go to sleep.
Don’t think of Cameron; that was an automatic turn-on and distracter. If she couldn’t drift off immediately, concentrate on Kelly and her bewildering mass of question marks and dots.
Or Montez and how to convince him that she was right and he was so wrong …
* * *
Holy Mary, Mother of God, forgive me.
Montez’s fingers moved on the rosary in silent prayer. His heart was beating hard as his eyes stared into the darkness of the cave surrounding him.
Save me from causing any more deaths.
Forgive me, for I have sinned.
But wouldn’t the sinning continue if he did what Catherine Ling asked him to do? She was as violent as Santos, and the killing would go on and on. Yes, she would still hunt and try to kill Santos, but he would not be involved. He had sworn to himself that he would go no further down that path that could be sending him to the depths of perdition, that he would be done with Santos forever.
But if that was God’s will, why had he not kept Santos in that prison? Why had he sent him out in the world to test his resolve?
Because the resolve was wrong and mistaken?
Catherine Ling had seemed to be honorable and her cause just. Was that the message he should have taken away from their encounter?
Protect me from evil and ambition.
Deaths. So many deaths.
Agony was tearing through him as he thought of Father Gabriel standing at the door of the church and watching him run through the garden.
Forgive me, Father. I should have been wiser. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I just didn’t know what was right or wrong. Even you who were so much wiser couldn’t tell me. You said that I had to rely on God to guide me.
But he’s not guiding me.
I’m lost, and He’s not showing the way home.
Holy Father, please, give me a sign.
* * *
“You’re overthinking the problem.”
Catherine’s eyes flew open, pulled out of sleep, as she remembered Kelly’s last words to her.
Not that she had been deeply asleep; it had been a restless slumber. She had been tossing and turning most of the night. But it had only been when that last thought of Kelly’s had intruded that she had been jerked awake.
And she was wide-awake, she thought ruefully, as she sat up in bed. Okay, Kelly, I’ll think about it and see how I can simplify. I’m tired of leaving it up to you and Hu Chang to connect your dots. She might as well concentrate since she wasn’t sleeping worth a damn.
She got out of bed, went to the bathroom, and got a glass of water. She splashed water in her face and sat down in an easy chair with her computer. She pulled up the file Kelly had sent her and studied it. Fifteen minutes later, she was still as frustrated as when she had begun.
All the dots were still mysteries, all the gaps were not telling her anything.
She leaned her head back in the chair and looked at the computer screen. Smother that frustration. It wasn’t going to help. Approach the problem from another direction. She didn’t have the individual skills of Kelly or Hu Chang, so simplify as Kelly had suggested.
Simplify what?
Montez appeared to be an important key. Kelly was intrigued by him. Hu Chang was studying his book.
The book.
The only part of it that she might be able to decipher was the title. She accessed Google and typed in Maggi.
She sighed with discouragement as the answers started flowing on her screen. If she’d hoped to have an easy time, it wasn’t going to happen. The primary answer appeared to be a European seasoning food product, and the examples seemed to go on forever. Then it skipped to Maggie and famous Maggies in entertainment and history. She used several other search engines and came up with basically the same result.
All right, expand the search. Connect the word to something else.
Buenos Aires …
Kelly’s last words before Catherine had left her room.
She typed in Maggi and Buenos Aires and asked for the connection.
More exotic seasonings and where to find them in Argentina.
She scrolled down the screen.
She froze, her gaze on the entry that had suddenly appeared.
“Holy shit.”
It could be nothing.
Or it could be the answer.
It was a start.
Her hand was shaking as she punched in the access.
God, please, let it be the answer.
* * *
Two hours later, she hung up the phone from talking to Venable.
She leaned back and drew a deep breath. She could feel the flush burning her cheeks and the pounding of her heart leaping in her chest. Calm down. It was more than a start, but it wasn’t the entire answer.
But she could get that answer if she worked hard enough, then she’d have something with which to confront Montez. Arguments she could use to sway him.
But she had to have Hu Chang.
She got up from the chair, grabbed her clothes, and went to the bathroom. She came out five minutes later,
snatched her computer, and left the bedroom. A moment later, she was opening the door of the library. Hu Chang was sitting at the desk, studying Montez’s book. She’d known he wouldn’t be able to leave it until he’d made significant headway.
She slammed the door behind her. “Anything?”
“Delighted to see you, Catherine.” He gestured to the page he’d been reading. “Fascinating stuff. But I’m not ready to discuss it with you yet. I thought you were going to bed.”
“Could you make heads or tails of it?”
“Yes, though Montez is right, it is difficult.” He tilted his head. “May I ask why you’re accosting me in the middle of the night?” His gaze narrowed on her face. “Never mind. You’re practically lighting up this boring study. Excitement, eagerness … what else, Catherine?”
“Frustration. I need to know more.”
“So you came to me.” He smiled slightly. “An excellent choice. Who else can you count on for superior knowledge?” He leaned back in his chair. “On what subject?”
“I think you know. Maggi.”
“I haven’t dealt with the title yet. I was too absorbed in the contents. But you evidently have been doing a little research when you should have been sleeping. So tell me about Maggi.”
“Maria Maggi. It’s the name on a tomb in Milan, Italy.” She dropped down in the visitor’s chair beside the desk. “And the occupant was a very famous Argentinean countrywoman of Eduardo Montez.” She opened her computer and pulled up the document she’d been studying. “A beautiful woman who caused a great deal of trouble in her day.” She turned the screen around to face him. “You’ll recognize her.”
“Yes, indeed,” he murmured, his gaze on the screen. “Eva Peron. Blond, beautiful, and ambitious to be the queen of Argentina. Perhaps the empress of the world. Would you care to tell me how she came to be the occupant of that tomb in Milan?”
“It was only one of her burial sites after her death. On this tomb, they even inscribed a different name. They were trying to hide her identity so that her corpse wouldn’t be stolen or vandalized. It was a constant threat. She wasn’t buried permanently for twenty-four years. She was an icon to the common people of Argentina. Political factions fought over possession of her body because they were afraid that her influence with the masses, even after her death, would sway their political futures. Her remains were transferred from place to place in Argentina, then Europe, so that her effect on the political process would remain negligible. Maria Maggi was the name on her crypt in Milan.”