Alano swallowed bile. The flight was a nightmare that didn’t end. Manuel Amador, Lucio’s lawyer and friend, was an enthusiastic pilot who used flying to discharge energy. From the way he flew the small passenger plane, he was in a bad mood. For the passengers it was like rolling down with an avalanche and flying up again just before slamming onto the ground. Alano couldn’t blame their prisoners for moaning the whole time. He admitted he hadn’t expected Ethan to rebel with everything he had against being brought on the plane. Though tied up, he had fought viciously, kicked and used his considerable weight to get the guards into trouble. In the end he had pressed his feet against the hindmost chair and almost wrenched it from its socket. Manuel had screamed like a lunatic about that idiot damaging his baby, and finally three men had wrestled Ethan onto the next chair to bind him tight with a long rope around his torso and legs.
Jazmin had pleaded to ease the binding, and before Alano had time to say a word, Manuel had already backhanded her. Her cry of shock had caused her husband to go berserk once more and fight the restraints, but to no avail. Alano swore he would tell Lucio that he had done what he could to keep the couple from getting harmed. He would not be held responsible for Manuel’s rage.
Jazmin was done crying, but whimpered from time to time. Her husband sat sunken, shoulders hunched, and endured the unruly flight quietly. When the plane gained height he looked through the window, obviously not afraid of flying. Alano concluded the bodyguard had just not wanted to be taken away without knowing their destination.
Every time he looked at the prisoners, Alano wondered why they were important for Lucio. He hoped to receive answers in the next camp where the plane would set down. His hopes of being relieved of the responsibility had been drowned when Manuel had demanded he accompany the prisoners to their final destination, arguing that he was only the pilot and wouldn’t deal with the prisoners. Alano hadn’t known how to best deny that order, insecure if Lucio approved of the decision. He watched Manuel’s back as he thrust the plane into yet another curve, laughing and humming a song.
Alano’s scanty breakfast tried to surface again.
* * * *
Ryan watched Vancho’s face turn from friendly to restrained while speaking with Captain Hierro. It was obvious the older man on the other side of the phone was in no mood to aid an officer working for the US Embassy just because some tourists were lost.
“As I told you before, Captain,” Vancho said once more, his patience sounding strained, “I am not talking about American tourists who took a detour through the mountainside. The couple were kidnapped in a van belonging to Manuel Amador, whom you just named the well-known lawyer of Lucio Morales, one of the most influential drug lords around. The Mahoneys both work for the Secretary of State, and he demands to know where they’ve been taken. No call for ransom was made so far, and we’ve got no hints at where they were taken. So I want to know from you if you can determine the whereabouts of Amador at the moment. Do you have any information about two people being transported out of Lima?”
Ryan didn’t hear the captain’s answer, but Vancho visibly swallowed a remark he’d obviously decided not to utter. “Thank you, captain, I’ll be standing by for your call.” He put down the receiver and inhaled twice deeply before he faced Ryan. “No, he doesn’t know Amador’s location. He doesn’t know of a man and a woman being kidnapped—and he calls me an idiot to think so because if there was a kidnapping going on the great Hierro would know of it—but he will undertake some reconnaissance. Whatever that means, Ryan, I can’t honestly tell.”
“Couldn’t you reach the sergeant, the woman you talked about? Maybe she’d be a more understanding partner.”
Vancho scratched his forehead. “She’s on reconnaissance, I was told, and isn’t expected back any time soon. Sounds like some long-term mission to me. We can’t count on her.”
“Okay, but if he doesn’t do enough you’ll have to talk to his superiors.” Ryan couldn’t sit anymore. He walked in circles around the small office. “They’ve probably changed cars. Where’s the damaged van? Maybe we’ll find some hints in there. And maybe someone saw them as they took Jazmin and Ethan away.” He looked at Vancho pleadingly. “Tell me we don’t have to wait for Hierro to call back before we can do anything!”
“No, I already spoke with the DEA here at the embassy and called my friends at the police station. They’re searching for the gray van with the shattered windshield. If they find it, they’ll let me know.” Vancho stood and came around the desk. “My friend, you haven’t eaten today. I know you’re worried, but you won’t be of any good for us if you’re hungry and hypoglycemic.”
“I don’t even know the word, so how could I have it?”
“You need some fuel to get your machine going, so to say. I’ll offer you a second breakfast and some cookies. How does that sound?”
“Like distracting me when I don’t want to be distracted.”
“In any case, I need to eat, so I’ll take you with me.”
“And when the phone rings?”
“I’ve got mine with me.”
Ryan hung his head. “I pray my friends don’t suffer too much.”
* * * *
Sami hit the brakes and nodded to himself as they reached police headquarters in central Lima. He put the car in park position and killed the engine. When he turned to Navid, his expression was solemn.
“Here’s where they took our comrades. You still have the bomb I gave you earlier? Get it. We’ll show them what we’re capable of.”
Navid nodded and got out to fetch it from the trunk he had packed in haste. His thoughts were with his friends who had been killed in the assassination attempt. He was angry about their failure. Angry that lives had been lost. Angry he was stuck with Sami in Lima when he wanted to be far away. The bomb was hidden under two blankets, and he looked around before he pulled it out. Sami sat on the driver’s seat, turning around impatiently. Navid hesitated to get back into the car. He didn’t know what the older man had on his mind and was undecided whether he would follow.
* * * *
Jazmin wished she could smash the man in the leather jacket. She heard him sing a tune only he knew while he let the small plane sink only to pull it up again the last possible moment. Each time she was close to retching, not knowing if the pilot enjoyed maneuvers to demonstrate his abilities or if he’d lost control due to drugs or alcohol. The time seemed endless until the wheels touched ground again and the small plane rumbled over another sandy airstrip and came to a stop.
“I hope you all enjoyed the ride,” the pilot said and laughed out loud, the only one laughing. “Now you’re so quiet, all of you. Sensitive stomachs, hmm? So sorry, but I like it a little bit rough.” He hissed the last word in Jazmin’s ear, and she smelled his bad breath. “And you, my little pussy, will come with me now.” He untied the rope around her upper body.
“No!” Ethan shouted. “Don’t you dare take her away!”
Jazmin watched him struggle and used her weight to not be pulled away. “I only go where my husband goes.”
“Oh, that’s not for you to decide.” The pilot grabbed her arm and forced her out of the seat. She suppressed a whimper and went down on her knees to make it harder for him to carry her away. “I think it’ll be better to keep you apart for now. Get on your feet, damn it!”
“No!” Jazmin’s heart beat frantically as she was shoved through the aisle. Her resistance wasn’t enough to cause more than nuisance. The thought of being locked up alone somewhere drove her mad. “Let me stay with him!”
“Lucio said unharmed and he meant it.” It was the driver, quiet but decisive. “We’ll lock them up together, and I’ll tell him we’ve landed.”
Jazmin held her breath, trying to not miss a word. Behind her Ethan shouted her name. They exited the plane across two metal steps. Her soles touched the sandy ground, and a part of her was grateful to not have died in a plane crash.
“I’ll tell Lucio where we are,” the pilot replied harshly. “It’s no longer in your hands.”
“He delegated their kidnapping and their transport to me. That’s why you brought me with you, right? So let me fulfill my duty.”
Jazmin was pushed forward so hard she stumbled and fell on her knees, barely avoiding landing prone. The pilot had stopped behind her.
“Are you, fucking little dealer, trying to browbeat me?” he hissed. “Alano, right? Are you out of your fucking mind? Did you ruin the few brain cells you had with cocaine?”
“I don’t use any drugs, and you know that.”
Jazmin stayed on her knees, not daring to turn around, but straining to hear everything.
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Alano admitted, “Manuel Amador, the always reliable lawyer. But you’re not responsible for their wellbeing. Lucio wants them unharmed. Completely unharmed. He said that several times. And you slapped them both after you’d been here for a minute. Lucio won’t like to hear that. Do you understand me?”
“Don’t you dare disrespect me! I’m the one you little scums relied on when you were sloppy and got caught. I’m the one who gets you free!”
Alano helped her get up.
“I don’t want to explain injuries to Lucio. Do you?” He led Jazmin across the airstrip.
Jazmin heard the pilot curse and ramble behind them. “Please,” she said quietly, “don’t let him vent his anger on Ethan.”
Alano snorted, eyes narrowed. His words were clipped. “He’ll stand some rough handling.”
“But—”
“Shut up!”
She jerked back. He shoved her across a threshold into a hut, through a room furnished with chairs and a table and into yet another one to the right with a barred cell. She had to walk through the open door and he flattened her against the wall so that her cheek touched the rough stone.
“Don’t move! Ricardo, get over here! Now!” He held her pressed between the shoulder blades until Ricardo appeared and he could leave.
Jazmin kept back tears as she waited, trembling with fear. A minute passed, and her fear rose that the pilot had carried out his point and locked up Ethan elsewhere on the compound. When she didn’t hear him coming she turned around. “Where is Ethan? My husband. Please, tell me where you took him!”
“He said face the wall!” The voice was harsh and she was turned back to face the wall. “You wait!”
“Where is he?”
* * * *
If he had ever wished to be carried away to not be held responsible, it was now. Alano ran back to the plane, jumped the two steps inside and knew instinctively he would either fight and make it count or let Manuel take over command. From the look in Manuel’s eyes, he wouldn’t give an inch. Alano couldn’t fathom the man’s intention, or whether he was simply a bad-tempered character once he had left behind his suit and tie. The open show of force and the growing brutality gave Alano the creeps. He still had Lucio’s words on his mind and braced for another quarrel.
Manuel had made the mistake of believing that being tightly shackled and forced to sit immobilized for a long hour would keep Ethan from fighting. Alano gaped at the bodyguard dashing out kicks and throwing his body against his enemies in spite of the narrow space between seats. Manuel jumped out of reach as one of Alano’s chosen guards got kicked against the knee and sat on a seat, howling. Another man was already on the ground, grimacing with pain. Hunched to avoid hitting his head, Ethan swiveled around for the next foe when Manuel rammed a rifle butt into his stomach. The bodyguard screamed and doubled over before he went down on his knees, coughing and panting for air. To his right yet another chair lay damaged.
“Stop it! Stop right there!” Alano stepped in between when Manuel was hauling off to strike Ethan’s head. The look in the lawyer’s eyes spoke of unrestrained fury. “He’s down, okay? It’s enough! He won’t fight anymore.”
“He attacked me!” Manuel tried to push Alano, but the younger man stood his ground. They locked gazes. “He’ll pay for it!”
Alano knew Sandro, who was slowly recovering from the kick against his knee, was with Manuel on the subject. They all expected the prisoners to be cowed too much to fight. The bodyguard was of tough stock, a man who didn’t give in, and therefore had to be battered to obedience. In the usual cases Alano would’ve agreed.
“He already did. I’ll take him with me now, so you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Thanks for bringing us here. I’m sure Lucio will be most grateful for your service.” He didn’t dare turn his back on Manuel, but slapped Ethan’s shoulder, still focused on the lawyer. “Get up, man! Right now!” He heard the man’s labored breathing and waited until he made it to his feet, groaning and unable to stand straight. Alano directed him through the aisle and called for Enrique to help him take Ethan to the cell Lucio’s employees had prepared. He checked over his shoulder whether Manuel was staying out of reach. Standing at the exit, the pilot had lowered the gun and followed Alano with a hateful glare. His look at the prisoner made it abundantly clear that once left alone with him, he’d vent his fury no matter the consequences.
Alano didn’t understand the two different personalities displayed. At his office, Manuel Amador was an eloquent master of words of law, always dressed appropriately, and never aggressive beyond words. He appeared composed and a master of every situation at court without sweating. The illogical idea of the leather jacket having to do with his change of behavior, even character, came to his mind. Alano shook his head. He wished for the day to be over, for a beer, and for ten hours of uninterrupted sleep.
“Who is this man?” Ethan asked under his breath, shuffling over the sandy ground.
Alano saw pain in the man’s eyes and cursed Manuel for his viciousness. “Not your concern.”
Ethan took a look around at the huts and fields and the cars parked in the shade under large trees. “Where’re you taking me? Where’s my wife?”
“Shut up and walk!” He guided him through the room to the one in the rear of the building, acknowledging that Ricardo still stood watch over Jazmin, who was crying, standing against the wall. “She okay?”
“Can’t say.” Ricardo looked uneasy.
“Move!” Alano ordered. He pushed Ethan into the cell.
Jazmin turned around to him immediately. “Ethan!”
“Princess, are you okay?”
“Oh, my God! I thought—”
“Face the wall and don’t move!” Alano nodded toward Ricardo before they cut the plastic bands and quickly left the cell to lock the door. He watched a moment as the couple embraced. Blood trickled down Ethan’s wrists, and her cheek was bruised from Manuel’s hard slap. Alano didn’t look forward to the conversation with Lucio to explain why the package was no longer unharmed.
* * * *
Jazmin closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely, feeling safe in Ethan’s tight embrace. “I thought they’d take you someplace else.” She sobbed, then lifted her head to kiss Ethan desperately. “I wouldn’t have known—”
“It didn’t happen. I... I need to sit down.” Ethan let go of her and sat on the bunch of covers their captors had provided. He held his stomach, breathing raggedly.
She knelt beside him, gently touching his face and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “How can I help?”
“Make it hurt less?” He bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Was a rifle butt.”
“Your wrists are bleeding,” Jazmin cried helplessly. She had tried so hard to keep face, to remain optimistic, and not to show how terrified she was that they both wouldn’t live to see the next day. Seeing Ethan’s blood drip on his pants was too much. “I have to do something. Anything to stop this.”
“Princess...” He grimaced. “Don’t. They’re not open for pleas. And I’m going to kill that damned pilot for hitting you!”
“It’s not—”
“Don’t say it’s nothing.” He tried for a smile. “That’s my line.”
“Too often. Your hands?”
“Numb. Don’t touch them,” he pleaded. “The feeling’s returning, and it’s like knives stabbing through.”
“God, I hate these bastards!” Jazmin stood and looked around. This time, there were bars completely along one side of the cell and walls on the other, leaving no place to hide. The construction looked and smelled new, as if Lucio had told one of his men to build a holding room. Two very small windows in the upper half of the southern wall allowed some light. Beyond the cell, the room was filled with old furniture, boxes, shelves, and an assortment of tools used for field work. The smell of dust and animals was in the air.
“Hello? Alano? Are you out there?”
“I hope he kicks this damn pilot out. He’s a lunatic.” Ethan rested his forehead on his drawn-up knees.
She held tight to the bars and pressed her face through to shout louder. “Alano? We need help here!”
Ethan suppressed a groan. “If they go on handling us like that, they’ll have to carry us out next time.”
“They won’t.” Jazmin turned back to him. “Alano said we ought to be delivered to whoever unharmed.”
He bit his lips, still with his hands across his belly. “Didn’t work, hmm?”
“Their boss seems to be someone named Lucio. Any idea who this is?”
“None. I’m still racking my brain why they kidnapped us. They certainly know by now who we are.”
“And still they’ve brought us across the mountains. Away from Lima.” She rubbed her upper arms. “If we make it out of here, we don’t even know where to go.”
“There’re always settlements. A river to follow. We’ll find a way, even though the flight was not meant for us to notice anything.”
“No, just for retching up.”
Jazmin turned back when Alano appeared with short hard steps.
“What do you want?” he asked, still angry. She could tell from his look that the pilot was still around. His shoulders were tight, his hands clenched to fists. “It’s not a hotel, so don’t expect anything.”
“We need some water and something to eat. And my husband’s wrists are bleeding from the restraints. Do you have some bandages so I can take care of him?”
Her reasonable voice appeared to calm him. Lips pressed tight, he looked Ethan up and down, nodded curtly, and went out again.
While they waited she knelt in front of him. “What do you want to bet this is just another stopover?”
“A night with you on a lonely island?” His smile was short-lived. “I wish I knew where we’re heading. Is it possible Acosta’s men are doing this to take revenge for their boss?”
“No, how?”
“I don’t know how, but I know we’ve got no connection to these gangsters.” He closed his eyes and leaned into her hands. “I can fight off terrorists, but not protect my wife. It’s ridiculous.”
“You are protecting me, captain. You do it with all you have.”
“Well, one of the bad guys will be limping badly today. I regret it wasn’t the pilot.”
She took a quivering breath. “The moment he announced he’d take me away and lock me up somewhere else—I thought I’d go crazy. We need to get away, the sooner the better.”
“I know. If it’s not a high security lock we might even open it with your little knife. You still have it, don’t you?”
“Sure. The way the bars look, they built this luxurious abode in haste. You could probably demolish it completely.”
“Demolish?” He arched his brows, trying to lighten the mood. “I never thought I was a demolition man.”
“Be assured you look much better than Stallone.”
“Thank you. That’s nice to know.”
A black-haired woman in plain light brown pants with a matching cardigan walked slowly toward the cell. Her flat shoes made no sound. She carried a basket in one hand and a large water bottle in the other, looking insecure, frightened. When she glanced over her shoulder, Jazmin understood. The man Alano had called Ricardo was walking in behind her, one of the rifles with rubber bullets in his fleshy hands. Lips pursed, he appeared to be waiting for Jazmin or Ethan to make a wrong move to pull the trigger. She recognized him as the man who had sat in the van guarding her after the kidnapping. They locked gazes, and he let her know shooting was one of his favorite hobbies.
“Here is something to drink,” the woman said with a hint of a shy smile. She spoke Spanish very slowly, as if to make them understand. Her dark brown eyes told of intelligence and hidden knowledge. Her gaze alternated between Ethan and Jazmin as if to memorize their faces. “And rice with beans.” She frowned as she pushed her long braid back over her shoulder. “You asked for something to dress your... friend’s wounds?”
“He’s my husband. The plastic bands cut into the flesh, and he’s bleeding.”
“I see. I’ve made a mix of salted water with lemon juice.” She shrugged with a helpless smile and presented a small jar. “This is not a big city, you know.”
“Don’t dawdle!” Ricardo shouted at her.
The woman swallowed, and her eyes were wide with fear. Her voice sank to a whisper. “I brought you cloth—like bandages, you know—and some pads, too.” She pushed it through the bars and turned to Ricardo. “The bottle and the bowl won’t fit through. You must—”
He handed her the key. “Open up, give it to her and close the door. Make it quick.” Ricardo looked at Ethan. “If you move I’ll shoot you!”
“Can’t be worse than the flight today.”
To Jazmin’s surprise Ricardo’s face lit up in a grin he quickly quashed. “Hurry, Lorena, this mustn’t take all day!” He took a stance with the rifle directed at Ethan when the cell door swung open.
Jazmin took the food and the bottle. “Thank you, that’s kind.”
“Yes, I—”
“Close the door!” Ricardo twitched when Ethan stretched his legs. “And get away from the bars!”
Lorena flinched, took the basket, and left as quietly as she had come. Ricardo checked the door and was gone a moment later. Jazmin turned to Ethan, relieved.
“What did she say about lemon juice?” He wanted to know.
“It’s a simple recipe for a disinfectant.” She unscrewed the jar. “Warm water, salt, and lemon juice or vinegar.”
“Doesn’t sound like I’d like it.”
“The solution might sting a little, but it’s not like rubbing salt into the wound.”
“Yeah, that would just add up today.”
* * * *
“My friend at the police station just called—they’ve found Amador’s Ford.” Vancho grinned from ear to ear. “Hey, isn’t that good news? Have a coffee for me, too,” he teased when Ryan got up slowly and emptied his cup.
“I’m becoming a coffee addict. It’s not good.” Ryan had showered and shaved, dressed in fresh clothes and had busied himself with organizing the safe flight home of the secretary’s staff from the airport later in the evening. While talking to frightened ladies and some men eagerly waiting for departure, he had been focused. He had even been able to soothe Nolan’s press agent, a man in his fifties, who had been close to collapsing due to the unusual events. His face had been an unhealthy red and Ryan had pondered calling a doctor, but the employee had assured him he was fine, claiming it was the heat and the fear of chaos. He had asked ten times if the SecState was unhurt until Ryan had described in detail how the bodyguards in the limousines had reacted to reach the airport safely. Only then had Mr. Hallington calmed down. Ryan, suddenly in charge, had assured the staff they would be taken to Washington without delay or further detours. The press agent’s overwhelming relief had touched him, and he had felt good to deliver the news. The task was done now, and the worry for Jazmin and Ethan came back like a hard fist punching his guts. “Where?”
“North of Lima.” Vancho had already grabbed his jacket and was on the way. “They chose streets hardly damaged.” He shook his head. “They were prepared, Eduardo said. The van looks re-modeled to fit their needs.”
A cold shudder ran down Ryan’s back. “Any sign of them?”
Vancho gazed at him, clearly understanding his worry. “That’s why we’re going to have a look. Maybe you’ll find something.”
They got into Vancho’s car. The streets were still damaged in many places, and where cars didn’t fit through, the people used bikes or went on foot. Shops had re-opened and the inhabitants used the time to replenish their supplies. Weather had turned sunny, adding to a brighter mood. Police patrols were omnipresent to prevent looting.
“You know this Eduardo well?”
Vancho smiled at Ryan. “If you mean to ask him for favors, the answer is yes. He was with me at the academy. He’ll do what he can to help us.”
“Good to know.” Ryan wiped his eyes. The headache didn’t abate. He felt miserable to the degree he wondered how long he could stand it. “I spoke with Lennis today. He’s the first assistant to Secretary Nolan.”
“Yeah, that slim guy, right? Always preparing the next meeting or whatever. Kind of a workaholic.”
“That one. I explained the situation and he proposed contacting the US Embassy in Bogotá to have the local CIA branch find out about Acosta and his men. Since there’s no call for ransom, I’ve been wondering if Acosta’s old friends might be out for revenge or whatever.”
“But this is Peru, Ryan! How would any of Acosta’s men get here and pull this through?”
“Aren’t there connections between the mobs?”
“Yes, there are. Traders come across the borders, of course. But still... it seems far-fetched.”
“Lennis didn’t think so.” Ryan laughed briefly. “Imagine that—Lennis offered to come down here again and lead the research. Y’know, more than three years ago this man wouldn’t have dared to cross the street on a red light, and now he’d fly back to Lima after an earthquake. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say.”
“You all want the Mahoneys back.” Vancho shook his head. “Seems to me it’s not only you who consider them family.”
“The events of the last few years pulled us close together. As I told you—I’d have died in Colombia without Lennis organizing a transport to the next town.”
“Do you have a girlfriend or wife?”
“No.” Ryan evaded Vancho’s glance. “I had, but she left me.”
“Working hours?”
“Yes, but hers, not mine. She’s married to the company she works for. There was little room for me and I’m not—” He broke off before he said too much.
“You didn’t want to be the one warming the bed for a night between the sheets. I get it.”
“Did you have any experience like that?”
“Working as a police officer involved odd working hours, strange friends who call at night, and some weird stuff to deal with. My girlfriend wanted me to be at home at five, spend time with her and fulfill her idea of marriage and family.” He shrugged, making light of it. “It’s the simple story of a policeman putting his job over his woman. I’m not the first and truly not the last man to lose his girlfriend because of odd hours on the streets. There we are.” He pointed toward the police car parked at the curb, lights still on.
Ryan got out and inspected the abandoned van. The windshield was shattered in four places. It was astonishing that the driver had been able to see anything while steering the van. From the witnesses’ statements, Ryan knew the Ford had backed up before making a U-turn. It was an outstanding maneuver with such a heavy vehicle. There was blood on the passenger side and empty shells on the floor. The cargo area was empty except for small boxes with plastic bands, a small amount of ammunition, waste paper, empty water bottles, and dirt. Metal rings at the sides allowed for tying cargo or—if necessary—people to them. If Jazmin and Ethan had tried to leave a sign, he couldn’t find it. Frustrated, Ryan stepped out again.
“They were transported lying on the floor,” Eduardo said, hands in his pockets as he leaned back conveniently against his patrol car. “We found traces of saliva and—” He held up a small evidence bag “—a piece of blue cloth.”
“Jazmin’s gown.” Ryan fought for air. “She was wearing a dark blue satin gown.” He swallowed drily and turned to Vancho. “Anything else?”
“We got fingerprints, and with some DEA help—they got that high-tech equipment I’ve wanted for years! Well, they checked everything they could find, and the name Alano Oyola came up.” Eduardo exchanged glances with Vancho and Ryan. “Does that ring a bell?”
“It does.” Ryan frowned, forcing his brain to work in spite of the growing pain. “The name came up connected with Ethan’s and Jazmin’s first kidnapping.”
“They’ve been kidnapped before?” Eduardo whistled through the gap between his front teeth. “How long have they been in Lima?”
“Three days.” Ryan massaged his temples while Vancho lit a cigarette. The smoke didn’t help Ryan’s headache. He stepped away. “Oh, now I remember—the man the police caught as head of the kidnapping worked for Oyola.”
“So here’s the connection.” Eduardo used his fingers to count. “If I have this right, your friends were kidnapped before by some gangsters working for Oyola. He works for Lucio Morales. We know that. And that lawyer—Amador—he works for Morales, too.”
Vancho blew smoke through his nostrils. “Summed up—Morales had the Mahoneys kidnapped twice. The first time they escaped on their own after a few minutes, so they made a second attempt. But it was hard—they had no means to get them while within the limousines.”
Ryan exhaled, hit by sadness. “If they had taken the heli, this wouldn’t have happened. They’d have gotten clean away.” He turned away to get a grip on his emotions.
“Well, they didn’t.” Vancho drew on his cigarette. “So the gangsters’ chance occurred when they left the limousine behind and were on the median strip to walk to the hotel.”
Eduardo arched his brows and fingered for a cigarette in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. “Quite an effort, if you’d ask me. What for?”
“We don’t know that yet.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. The bad feeling in his stomach was back and added to his misery. “What if they hadn’t gotten out of the limo? They could’ve driven straight to the hotel and into the garage.” He looked at Eduardo. “The kidnappers must’ve had accomplices near or inside the hotel. Can you check that?”
“Sure.” Eduardo lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.
Ryan made another step away. “I already checked for an old enemy, but he’s still locked up. Does this Morales kidnap people for ransom? Is that another... part of his business? Do we have to expect calls for ransom? Even belated?”
Eduardo blew smoke toward the ground, sniffing. “From time to time. Mostly to get rid of competitors or cow judges and such. Did some of Morales’ men follow you, too?”
“No. At least not that I know of. It took me some time to get from the airport to the embassy. Traffic was slow. If they had wanted to catch me, too, they could’ve done so while I was stuck in the traffic jam.”
“Really?” Eduardo collected a piece of tobacco off his tongue tip. “The limousine’s armored. They wouldn’t have been able to open the door, right?”
Ryan nodded, his thoughts traveling to Ethan and Jazmin once more. “Yep, they’d have needed to lure me out somehow.” His friends had left the limousine behind to avoid the traffic jam. That was a grave mistake. “My God, what a list of bad coincidences.” He looked back at Eduardo. “Is it possible to determine where the gangsters were heading?”
The police officer frowned. “Well, it was late at night, and smack in the chaos of the earthquake. People had other worries than watching some hoodlums changing vans.” He took a deep breath as he looked around. “So far we’ve got no witnesses.”
“I see.” Ryan hung his head, hands propped up on his hips. “So this isn’t leading anywhere.”
“Now, I wouldn’t give up so quickly.” Eduardo looked along the street. “You might think we do nothing, but police and drug enforcement agencies work quite well together. There’s a camp north of Lima. Since we already know the van belongs to Amador, it’s possible your friends were taken to one of Morales’ places.” He shrugged. “A shot in the dark, but I’ve got two men working on it.” He gave a mock salute and left.
Vancho put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I know it’s not much. It’d be easier if they sent smoke signals, but we’ll do what we can.”
“Did you tell them we need all information ASAP?”
“Of course.”
“Okay.” Ryan took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind—let’s go pester the DEA at the embassy.”
“Spur them into action by order of the Secretary of State?” Vancho grinned. “Nothing I’d love better.”
* * * *
“You ruined the tux,” Jazmin said and ran a hand along the stained and dusty lapel. “I so love to see you in a suit. You look so strong and impressive.” When she was done bandaging his wrists she shared the frugal meal with him. “Any plan what we can do?”
Ethan caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “First, check out security. How many guards, schedules. Find out who’s in charge and what they’re going to do with us.”
They both were quiet when they heard a quarrel taking place outside. Jazmin tried to determine whether Alano and the pilot were involved, but wasn’t sure. She only understood the words transport and have to wait for Lucio.
Ethan let go of his breath and began to carefully knead his hands. “It could be our advantage that their boss is not yet here. We’ve got a day, maybe, of respite.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “Wouldn’t mind carrying you out of here and just flying away.”
“Ah, just keeping me to yourself, Superman?” she teased and gently kissed his lips again. She needed the contact so much she would’ve crawled under his skin if possible.
He took her face in both hands. “When I met you for the first time, I wanted to take you home. Flying or no.”
“I heard that story differently—you didn’t even know what to wear for our first date.”
He let his fingers travel across her ears. “That doesn’t change—”
“I took the initiative to get you into my bed, if you remember, my strong warrior.”
Ethan lowered his chin and looked at her with that puppy look she loved. “That’s just because I didn’t wanna blow it.”
“Well, when it comes to blowing...” She gave him her most innocent look. “I remember you not being able to tell me your wishes.”
Ethan managed to look embarrassed, triggering Jazmin’s smile. “I thought a nice home for us two was a good start.”
“Don’t change the subject.” She kissed him sensuously. “Your bedtime wishes, captain, were all so innocent.”
“Don’t tempt me to say it all changed because of you.”
“It’s tempting to have you confess all of your wishes,” she whispered and pressed her body against his.
“You mean because we’ve got so much time on our hands?”
“No, Ethan, just because I need to know we’re still alive.”