Where There's Smoke
She still planned to return to the embassy in the hopes of finding Emilio Sánchez Perón. First, however, she must rest. Rest would boost her morale. She knew that once she’d slept several hours, reviewed her options, and charted another course of action, she’d feel much more optimistic.
That was the pep talk she gave herself as she trudged toward the jeep.
She never made it that far. Key dragged her behind a dumpster at the rear of the ho
spital. “Pst! Padre!”
Father Geraldo turned. “What is it?”
“There’s no reason for the cloak-and-dagger act,” Lara complained. “No one spotted us.”
Key motioned Father Geraldo closer. “What time will Soto be leaving the hospital?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. Why?”
“Our doctor friend is lying.”
“But I’ve known him—”
“Trust me on this, padre,” Key interrupted. “You might be a good judge when it comes to saints, but I know sinners. He’s lying.”
“How?” Lara asked
“I don’t know, but I want to find out. He said he didn’t remember your daughter. That’s bullshit,” Key declared. “That ambush made headlines all over the world. I was in Chad when it happened and it made the front pages there. It started a revolution, yes. Bodies passed through the city morgue like shit through a greased goose, yes. He might have been up to his armpits in corpses, but no way could he forget signing a death certificate for a U.S. ambassador’s daughter killed in a bloody shootout. No way, José.”
It was amazing how instinctively and completely Lara trusted Key. With the dark scruffy beard, he looked like the meanest of desperadoes, a man who attracted danger and thrived on it. His startling blue eyes moved like quicksilver as they surveyed the surrounding buildings. They didn’t miss the smallest movement. His voice was quiet, urgent, compelling, and convincing.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
Her unqualified trust must have silently communicated itself to him, because his alert eyes stopped their surveillance and fell on her.
“We wait.”
At the sound of the fatal click, Dr. Soto came to a sudden standstill. Key thrust the barrel of the Beretta behind the doctor’s ear and yanked his left arm behind his back, shoving his hand up between his shoulder blades.
“If you make a peep, you’re history.” His voice was a hiss in the darkness, so low it could have been mistaken for the rustle of leaves stirred by the faint breeze. “Walk.”
The doctor didn’t argue. He moved toward the jeep that rolled out from the deep shadows of the alleyway. Behind the wheel sat Father Geraldo, looking both excited and apprehensive. Lara was balanced on the edge of the backseat, gripping the seat in front of her, watching as Key approached with their hostage.
“Frisk him, Lara.” She jumped to the ground and ran her hands over the outside of the doctor’s clothing.
“I am unarmed,” he said with dignity.
“You’re also a goddamn liar,” Key said. With a nod, Lara confirmed that the doctor wasn’t concealing a weapon, then returned to her place in the jeep. “Get in.”
Soto did as Key ordered and climbed into the front seat. Key vaulted in to sit beside Lara, digging the muzzle of the gun into the hollow at the base of the doctor’s skull. Father Geraldo put the jeep in gear and they took off.
“Where are you taking me? For God’s sake, please… I don’t know why you are doing this. What do you want from me?”
“The truth.” Lara leaned forward so she could be heard. “You know more than you’re telling about my daughter’s death, don’t you?”
Key nudged the back of Soto’s head with the pistol. “No!” the doctor protested in a high, thin voice. “I swear I know nothing. As God is my witness,”
“Careful,” Key warned. “There’s a man of God present who tells Him everything.”
“I cannot help you,” he whimpered.
“Cannot or will not?” Lara asked.