“Agreed.”
“Start reaching out to your contacts—immigration officers, airport employees, anyone who will alert us when the Fargos appear.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll start with Antananarivo. Anything else?”
Garza stared hard at his underling. “You mean, are there going to be any repercussions for your failure?”
“Yes, sir.”
Garza chuckled humorlessly. “What are you expecting, Itzli? Something from the movies, perhaps? For me to pull out a pearl-handled revolver and shoot you? Or open a trapdoor beneath you?”
Rivera let himself smile.
Garza’s expression went cold. “For now, you’re still the best man for the job. The best I have, in fact. Now I want you to prove that my faith isn’t wasted. Ideally, that would involve Sam and Remi Fargo ending up dead.”
“Yes, Mr. President, thank you.”
“One more thing before you go: I want to make memorial arrangements.”
“For Nochtli,” Rivera said. “Yes, sir, I—”
“No, no, for the other one—Yaotl. It seems he and his wife died in a car accident this morning.”
Rivera felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “What?”
“Sad, isn’t it? He lost control and drove his car off a cliff. They were both killed instantly.”
“They had a child, a five-year-old.”
Garza pursed his lips as though weighing the question. “Oh, the girl. She’s fine. She was at school at the time. I suppose we’ll have to find her new home. You’ll see to that as well?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
CHAPTER 23
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS,
WASHINGTON, D.C.
THEIR FIRST LEAD INTO WINSTON BLAYLOCK’S LIFE PRIOR TO HIS arrival in Africa came in the form of an old friend of Selma’s, Julianne Severson, who’d taken over the Library of Congress’s Special Collections Division after Selma’s departure.
Severson met Sam and Remi at the Second Street researcher’s entrance of the Jefferson Building. The other two buildings that made up the library’s campus, the Adams and the Madison, sat a block to the east and the south respectively.
After shaking hands, Severson said, “It’s a pleasure having you, Mr. and Mrs. Fargo—”
“Sam and Remi,” said Remi.
“Wonderful. I’m Julianne. I’ve been a fan of yours for quite some time. You probably don’t realize this but your adventures spark a lot of interest in history, particularly among children.”
“Thank you, Julianne,” Sam replied.
She handed them a pair of laminated badges attached to neck lanyards. “Reader identification cards,” she explained with a shrug and a smile. “All part of the CSP, Collections Security Program. Ever since nine/eleven, the protocols are much more strict.”
“We understand.”
“If you’ll follow me . . .” They started walking. “I’ll be helping you personally while you’re here . . .”
“That’s kind of you,” Remi said, “but we don’t want to take up your time.”