Hard Target (12 page)

God, keep Tay safe
.

"Dawna!"

She stood, and Tay motioned her closer. "He's clear. Now let's move him away from this open area."

As she approached, she watched Tay scan the houses surrounding the small plaza. The sun, so blazing in Cochabamba, had barely heated the thin air here before slipping behind the threatening clouds. Shadowed alcoves now blended together into the color of pale, Andean mud.

She turned her attention back to Cabanelos. He'd begun to twitch again, his open jacket and shirt showing shallow rapid breaths. He must be freezing. "This man is ill. We can't leave him."

"Over this way, then, since you insist on playing the Good Samaritan." Tay slid his hands under Cabanelos' armpits. After shoving her Browning into her shoulder holster, Dawna wrapped her arms around his ankles. Panting, they quickly carried the man to the front of the church, close to the bell tower. They'd no sooner laid him down, when Cabanelos reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"
Por favor
..."

She knelt over him, barely able to take in a deep breath from the exertion of moving him. "His lips are blue. And listen to his breathing. I think he's having a heart attack."

"
Escucheme
! Listen!" Cabanelos leaned forward painfully. "Much to say." He panted, his watering eyes flashing about in panic. "Ramos is not
desaparecidos
. Ramos is not..."

His words faded away, and Dawna glanced up at Tay, hoping he was also listening. He wasn't. Instead, he focused on the courtyard. She leaned closer to Cabanelos' face. "Go on."

Cabanelos coughed. "
Padre
..." He began to chant.

Tay glanced down at him. "What's he saying?"

She cradled the man's head. "I don't know. I think he's praying."

Abruptly, the front door to the church flew open. A long-robed man trotted out and scanned the empty plaza, spinning around when he caught sight of Cabanelos. "Juan!"

Dawna stared up at him. "
Habla ud Ingles
?"

The priest gaped at her, then up to Tay when he stood. "Yes, I speak English. What has happened? What have you done to Juan?"

"He collapsed while he was walking to our car."

Cabanelos cried out something. The priest pulled up his long robe to kneel down.

"What did he say?" Dawna asked.

The priest shook his head. "He's crying for his wife.  And begging Jesus to forgive her. We must get him inside the church."

"He needs a doctor."

Anger flared in the priest's expression. "Yes, but we have no phone service here. Someone must go down to the next town to get him. And I won't leave Juan out here."

Dawna turned to Tay. He shook his head, briefly. What was he trying to tell her? Not to offer anything? Tay stared back at her incredulous expression, then pulled the embassy's cell phone out of his pocket. When he'd grabbed that phone, she didn't know, but she guessed his North American one was useless down here in Bolivia without the proper chip.

"Help me get him inside," the priest begged. "It will rain soon. Do you want him to die out here?"

Dawna didn't want him to die at all. When she straightened, Tay stepped in bedside her. Wordlessly, he handed the cell phone to the priest and scooped Cabanelos up in his arms. The priest scrambled to open the door to the small church.

The interior was dark. Like most Catholic churches, the air was still and pungent with the smoky odor of wax. Tay placed Cabanelos down on the last roughhewn pew. Dawna could hear Tay wheezing slightly in the thin atmosphere. "Light the candles," the priest told her. "May I use this phone?"

Tay nodded as Dawna hurried up to the altar where a single knobby candle burned. She lit several longer tapers and returned down the aisle with them. She could hear the priest speaking rapidly on the cell phone as she approached Tay, who was leaning over Cabanelos, examining him.

Still feeling the need to breathe deeply, she set the candlesticks down near Cabanelos' head. Tay looked up at her. "I don't think he's having a heart attack. His pulse is weak, yes, but his breath smells odd and he seems more delirious than anything else."

She knelt down beside him, squeezing herself between the pews. "He may be a diabetic."

"Then his breath would smell like acetone." Tay shook his head, his mouth pressed into a grim line. Dawna shivered. This situation felt all wrong. To find Cabanelos and then lose him so quickly, here in a small church in a village so far removed from civilization. No wonder Tay wasn't anxious to race out to help Cabanelos. It smelled as much like an ambush as this church smelled like wax.

But they were still alive. No gunfire had peppered the plaza outside. No guerrillas had burst into the church.

The priest stopped talking and returned the phone to her. "There is a doctor in the next village. He's coming, but it will take over an hour." He looked at Cabanelos, frowning with worry. "Did he just collapse?"

"Yes." Dawna nodded. "Do you know him?"

"We grew up together. This is our home."

"Did you know he's wanted by the
policia
? He was seen immediately after an attack on an embassy in Cochabamba."

Shock hit the priest's features. "No!" He stopped himself, uttering something soft and slurred in Spanish. "Juan came to me today. He wanted to confess, he said, but we stood and talked in here for too long."

"Why?"

"We're old friends. He said he'd come back. He was meeting someone, he said."

Tay stood. "Did he appear unwell?"

The priest shook his head, staring down at his friend. "He was troubled, but not sick."

"Did he eat anything here?"

Again, the priest shook his head. "No, but he did go away for about an hour. To his home. He may have eaten something there."

"Where's his home?"

"His parent's home is the last house on the left down the street that is west of the church. A small home with a crumbling oven out front and a chicken coop behind it. His parents are both dead now." He stepped back. "I'll get a blanket."

He hurried over to a small, wooden door and disappeared into another room. A moment later, he returned with a colorful woven blanket. Dawna took it to cover the unconscious Cabanelos.

The priest studied them. "Why are you two here? Are you from the embassy? Were you to meet Juan?"

"Yes," Dawna answered. "A man who said he was Juan Cabanelos called me this morning and wanted to meet me here. He had important information, he said. Did he tell you anything more?"

"No." The priest folded his arms. "If he had, it would have been in the confessional and I would not tell you."

"Where's his wife?" Tay asked.

The priest's arms dropped to his side and he looked genuinely confused. "I had not seen Juan for several years. I didn't know he had a wife. I would have expected to be invited to the wedding. To perform it, even. It makes no sense."

Cabanelos let out a sharp moan and they all turned to him. He appeared to be regaining consciousness. "Leave us," the priest ordered firmly. "I want to offer him his last chance to confess."

"No," Dawna said. "He's wanted-"

"
No
,
Señora
, this is
my
church. Unless you have the proper papers, you will leave.
Now
."

Ire rose in Dawna at the man's icy tone. She was about to argue back when Tay touched her arm. She looked at him, and he flicked his head in the direction of the front door.

Outside, he checked the plaza, before steering Dawna toward the car. The sky was openly threatening now. She inhaled the cool air, drawing in the scent of rain or snow or both.

"Let's go check out Cabanelos' home," Tay said.

"Why are you in a hurry to leave?"

He stopped by the passenger door of the car. After a pause, he said, "There's no use in making that priest mad. He'd refuse to help. We're better off keeping on his good side."

Dawna stood back a bit, surprised that Tay didn't press any demands on the priest. Was he hoping to catch more flies with honey, not vinegar, as the old saying went? Feeling a bit confused, she hastily bent down to peer under the car, swiftly beginning the standard security check with Tay.

The temperature had dropped further. They shouldn't have left the car unattended, but there was no sign it had been tampered with. In fact, with the storm coming, there was absolutely no sign of life in the village. She climbed into the driver's seat and looked at Tay as he took the passenger side. He pointed to the road that the priest said that would lead to Cabanelos' house.

As she swung the car around, she glanced across at the church. There really wasn't anything they could do in there. The doctor was on his way, the priest sat with Cabanelos, ready to offer him his last rites. They could either wait outside or search his village home. Even if they did manage to stay near the man, he'd confess to the priest in Spanish and Dawna knew the priest would refuse to translate.

She'd never had anyone die on her before. All those years of serving as a military policewoman, she'd been in her share of scrapes and standoffs. She'd broken up domestic quarrels where one spouse held the other at gunpoint, and called an ambulance more times than she could count, but each time, the victim or suspect had survived.

Now it looked like Cabanelos wouldn't. And if he was going to confess his part in attacking the embassy, it would be forever sealed in a confession.

They spotted Cabanelos' home, set apart by several yards from the neighboring house. "Stop here," Tay said, reaching for his gun. Her own sidearm bit into her ribs and she pulled it free.

Tay added, "I'll go around to the right. You head left."

She nodded, grabbed her cell phone and they climbed out. A fat raindrop hit her shoulder, but she ignored it. Tay had already disappeared around the right corner.

There was only one small, dark window on her side. A quick peer inside revealed nothing. Walking stealthily around, her hands gripping her Browning, she found Tay near the wall at the other side. They made their way up to the only door.

The stench of chicken dung pervaded the air. Nearby, under a small adobe coop, several hens clucked nervously, either because of them or the approaching storm.

Like the rest of the village, the mud house appeared to be deserted. Because of the unusual storm perhaps, but Dawna was more inclined to think that their arrival had spooked the reserved locals. She made her way around the corner.

Between her and Tay was a short, rough-hewn door. Tay slid up beside it and knocked. No answer. With a sharp, instructing look to her, he flicked up the old-fashioned latch. The door swung inward.

"Hello?
Hola,
" Tay called out. "Anyone home?"

Again, nothing.

Dawna covered him as he stepped over the threshold, following him closely as her training dictated.