Amara nodded. Sounded reasonable.
“We’ll just show up,” Quint said, “talk to them about what’s been going on with their son — or brother, or nephew, or whatever he happens to be to them — and see if they’ll tell us where he is. I don’t imagine they’ll be too eager to protect a kidnapper, family or not. Even if some of them are, they can’t all be willing to put themselves at risk to protect him. I have a list of almost two dozen Orlandos who work down in the city. We can contact them if we need to after we try our luck at the source.”
She nodded softly, staring out the window, watching the sprawling city spread out beneath them. After the sixteen-hour flight and five hour time difference, the city was bathed in the same pale blue, early morning glow that shone through her window when she was awoken by the text from Quint the day before.
As they got closer to the airport, she couldn’t help but marvel at how incredibly modern and sleek the architecture was. She’d never been anywhere in South America, but the descriptions of the state of a lot of the other countries had colored her perception of the continent. While there was an obvious area of lower income and living standards on the outskirts of the city, the interior was surprisingly metropolitan.
“Oh, wow …” She reached out to touch Quint’s shoulder lightly, drawing his attention outside the plane with a quick nod toward the window. “You have to see this, Quint.”
He turned, smiling broadly as the city swelled up below them, closer by the moment. “It is as beautiful as they said. This is one of the only places I haven’t been, you know. There’s not much of a need for my sort of philanthropy here — and, thankfully, there’s not a need for your sort, either.”
Amara nodded idly as she listened, a soft smile spreading over her lips.
“Uruguay is a wonderful place,” Quint continued, “especially contrasted against some of the more underprivileged countries, or those struggling under dictatorships. Can you believe that only some twenty or thirty years ago, this place was in the same spot? They’ve become a beacon for progress and democracy. They’ve worked hard for their new position as a leading force in South America.”
It was always wonderful to hear Quint rambling on as he did. While she’d only gotten to know that side of him after his return from the crash, she understood where Hampton got his bubbly and inquisitive nature.
Quint had his head in the right place when he chose her to be the mother of his child, she thought. Many of the best traits a child needed to give them as good a start as possible resided in one or both of them. While she was aware of her own better traits, she believed Quint had contributed the most.
Being beautiful would certainly help Hampton down the line, too. And Hampton’s father was the most handsome man Amara had ever known.
All this, she was tempted to bring up to Quint more than a few times, but she always pushed the feelings out and away to avoid giving him a mistaken idea about the nature of their relationship and what the future might hold. As far as she was concerned, they were merely two concerned parents looking for their son together.
Quint’s idea of a joint custody arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was the best for everyone, she thought. Hampton would get the best of both worlds, and while she wouldn’t have him as much as she’d like, she’d be giving both him and Quint a chance to be a family to one another.
Maybe someday, when Hampton was older, he might choose to live with one or the other parent. But there were lots of maybes hanging out there. They hadn’t discussed the details going forward. The pressing matter of finding Hampton put all of that firmly on the back burner.
Amara willed the meandering thoughts from her mind as she sought out the Orlando estate in the distance. The airport was located in an area that, when descending from the north, gave the passengers a wonderful view of not only the city, but also the large villas, estates, and mansions of every sort just outside the city, many of them isolated on the hills.
She pointed, tapping her nail softly against the window. “There it is. That is it, right? It looks like the picture. God, I can’t believe how big it is … to see it from this far off. Wow.”
Quint slipped the phone from his jacket pocket and pulled up the overhead view of the Orlando estate. “That’s it. No question about it. I’ve got the directions, and an English-speaking driver lined up for us outside the airport. I’ll be giving them to him one at a time. Shouldn’t be any kind of problem with him, but you can’t be too careful. Like I said, you never know who’s connected to who, especially in a place as new as Montevideo is for both of us.”
“I’m half sick to my stomach,” Amara said.
“If we stick together, we’ll be fine.”
She willed his words to heaven and turned back in her seat as the runway came into view. She shut her eyes tightly. Though she’d flown a few times before, landings were always rough on her nerves. There was so much that could go wrong, and considering Quint’s crash, she’d felt anxiety about flying anywhere, let alone to another continent.
But no anxiety could be enough to prevent her from seeking her son.
Chapter Twenty Four
THE PLANE LANDED SMOOTHLY AND braked gradually without much jerking or swaying despite the windy conditions. A hangar was open near the runways, reserved for Quint’s arrival. A small airport-branded vehicle was parked outside, ready to taxi them out to the airport proper.
As they came to a stop in the hangar, the whir of the propulsion spun down slowly, and soon all was quiet around them. The crew lowered the steps and grabbed the bags that had been brought, taking them down to the car ahead of Quint and Amara.
When they both got in the back of the waiting car, it was clear that the driver didn’t know a word of English, but his job didn’t require any instructions or directions. He drove behind the hangar and down a narrow path, through a security gate and out onto the main thoroughfare that ran past the front of the airport. Once there, he stopped and gave a small wave and smile to his passengers and popped the trunk to get their bags.
The sleek black car that was waiting for the two was a definite downgrade in size from the usual limo Quint traveled in, but it was luxurious and spacious in the back seat. A tall gentleman leaned against the hood of the car, checking his watch before his eyes darted up to Quint and Amara.
“Welcome to Uruguay. You are Mister Forbes?” His accent was thick, and surprisingly familiar. He spoke with the same flourish and flair as Frederik, something she’d always figured was part of his well-to-do upbringing rather than the area he grew up in and the language he spoke.
As she approached, a twinge of apprehension shook her. It was his accent, its similarity to Frederik’s. She imagined the driver might be some relative of Frederik’s, intercepting them to take them to God knows where. She told herself not to be paranoid. The man looked nothing like Frederik, with round, gentle features and curly, white hair.
Quint nodded to him as they approached. “Yes. You’re Thiago?”
“Thiago Alvarez, yes sir. Go ahead and enter if you please. I’ll help with the bags.”