Hard Target (9 page)

"Why don't you go into the restaurant and order yourself a drink? I'd like to run upstairs for a quick shower."

She glanced once more at the street before nodding.

Ten minutes later, Tay proved that when he said a quick shower, he meant it. He sat down opposite her in the crowded restaurant, his wavy chestnut hair still wet, but finger-combed. He hadn't shaved and his jaw bore a hint of shadowing.

"Have you ordered yet?" he asked, flipping the edge of his lightweight jacket over his clean, faded jeans. His sidearm remained concealed, but she knew it was there, resting against his tan shirt.

A waiter appeared and offered menus. She grabbed one and scanned it. "I'll just have a fruit salad. They have varieties of fruit here we never see."

Tay handed his menu to the hovering waiter. "Two fruit salads and a plate of cheese. And I'll have a coffee."

Dawna glanced at the red wine she'd had delivered as soon as she sat down. "You said you don't drink anymore. Why did you quit?"

Tay met her curious gaze with solemn eyes. Around him, the shabby opulence of the restaurant blurred into a smoky beige. The spirited voices of the locals dulled. She drew in a breath, tasting mostly the scent of Tay's shampoo as it blended with tobacco and roasting meats. She waited for his answer.

"You already know the answer, Dawna. I'd decided I'd had enough right after the CO shone his flashlight into my staff car."

Blood rushed to her face. She and Tay had been mauling each other like animals in heat. Despite that warm June night, they'd steamed up the windshield. The top button of Tay's shirt had come undone. And she could still recall the feel of his hands on her.

Like animals in heat
. How could she have felt that way? So totally
not
what she was.

"I haven't had any alcohol since that night," Tay finished.

Because he'd had too much that night? Of wine, or of her? Or he was just plain ashamed of being caught with one of his students?

She had been no better than some shameless university student looking to jump the professor simply for the thrill of it. The fact that she and Tay were close in age didn't matter. They had been adults breaking regulations that had come with a clear, zero-tolerance policy.

The waiter arrived with the fruit and cheese. The thought of swallowing the sweet and tangy mix of carubas and passion fruit suddenly made her stomach churn. She couldn't even lift the scratched and worn silver spoon beside her bowl.

Tay's coffee arrived in the typical Bolivian fashion. A small white pot with no lid, another identical pot, also without a lid, held steaming milk.

Tay looked at them with a confused frown. Dawna explained, "I don't think there are any lids in this country. They like to let their coffee cool a bit first."

"Curious."

She cleared her throat. "You said you had some new security options I could offer the ambassador? What are they?"

His expression darkened, as though hurt and frustration whisked in and then out. Indignation flared in her, but she reined in the urge to snap at him. Instead, she grabbed the spoon and dug into her fruit salad. The sooner she got this evening over and done with, the better.

Dawna woke with a start. The phone? For a minute, she gripped her sheets, blinking in the dark of early morning.

Then the phone rang again.

Home. Her apartment in Cochabamba, a basic one bedroom above a store off the Avenue America. She glanced at the glowing red numbers of her clock. Four-fifteen. Her head still ached, but the five hours all the sleep she'd had worked wonders. She felt heaps better.

The phone jangled again. She leaned over to grab it, while struggling with the other hand to flick on the bedside lamp.

"Hello?"

"
Escucheme
!"

She cringed at the shout and pulled the phone away from her ear. She hated wrong numbers. "
No hablo Español
," she told the man.

"Listen! My English no good. I am Cabanelos."

Chapter Five

Dawna snapped fully awake. This was no wrong number. "Who are you?"

"Juan Cabanelos. You look for me,
si
?"

"Yes! Where are you?"

"Listen! I speak with you." His thick accent made him difficult to understand.

She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. "I'm listening."

"No! Not with phone. In person. No
policia
!"

"I am
policia
."

"No. You Canadian. No
policia
from Cochobamba."

"All right. What do you want?"

"I tell you in person. You know where Cardon Plata is?" His excited voice cracked as he coughed and wheezed.

Dawna set the phone away from her ear. "No. Is it a restaurant?"

"No! A village. Um," He paused, as if struggling with his English. Dawna strained to hear the background noises, but there weren't any. Fine time for the city to fall silent. "West of Oruro, near the border of Chile. Go to the
Iglesia de la Merced
. No
policia
, understand?"

She wasn't sure she did, but surely someone in the embassy would know this village, Cardon Plata, and the embassy had maps of the country. "All right. But how do I know you don't want to kill me?"

He laughed. The harsh sound started another coughing fit. "I fight with rifle for many years. If I want you dead, I kill you yesterday. I need speak with you. Important information for you."

Bad vocabulary aside, Dawna got his point. True, he could have killed both her and Tay, but had shot around them instead. Or was it that he had bad aim? She wasn't sure and wasn't comforted by the thought.

But he was suggesting he had important information, something that could no doubt affect the security of the embassy. "When should I meet you?"

"Six tonight. At the church." He hung up.

Dawna looked at the called display, but it said only 'private number'. She replaced the receiver and scribbled the information on a paper she kept by her phone, surprising herself that she'd actually agreed to Cabanelos' demands. She'd been a military policewoman for eighteen years and not once had a suspect called her up to request an interview. But with Cabanelos having skipped out of his apartment, they could use the break, no matter where it came from.

One thing was certain, she decided, throwing back her sheets. She wasn't going to meet him alone.

She should really take someone trustworthy like Ramos, but she had the embassy to think of first and foremost. He was needed there, especially if this was some trick to lure her and other
vigilantes
away.

Tay. They were both fish out of water here, but at least Tay was as well-trained as she was. According to the introductory spiel he'd rattled off the first day of her course, he'd worked for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for ten years as an undercover and security officer, before the military recruited him to train MP's for embassy postings.

She could call the
policia
, and they would go up to Cardon Plata, but Cabanelos would see them coming and pick them off like ducks in a shooting gallery. She doubted this man was stupid. He'd know if strangers were coming, even if they were disguised as locals.

No, she would have Tay accompany her. He wanted to be in the thick of things. Well, it didn't get much thicker than this.

Standing, she tore off her short nightgown. The maps she needed were in her filing cabinet at work. Might as well go in now. The extra hours would give her time to get caught up, without Tay breathing down her neck.

She'd call him later to wake him up.

When she arrived at the embassy less than an hour after Cabanelos had called, sunlight was just beginning to paint the westerly mountains a brilliant red against the dark blue sky. She waved to the
vigilante
on duty outside as he opened the vehicular door for her.

As she turned into the compound, she glanced to her right. The traffic was minimal, several vehicles still parked from the night before along the curb. One was a blue Toyota truck.

There were plenty of Toyota trucks here. Yet, how odd that she should notice that model and color three times since Tay's arrival. And more than odd was that the driver was sitting there. With her glimpse, she caught a rough detail of him. Male, white, youngish. Long, pale hair and light shirt. From the way he was slumped, she could only guess at his size, or even if he was awake. There were plenty of homeless in this city, even young male tourists backpacking through South America.

In fact, beside the truck, one of the city's many homeless was rousing from his cardboard bed, catching her attention as she moved through the gate. As a result, all she could remember was the Toyota's plate number ended with a forty-two.

She accelerated around to the rear of the embassy, annoyed the man didn't quite fit the description of Cabanelos. But then, having him so handy would have been too convenient.

A few minutes later, she punched in her code at the rear entrance and drummed her fingers while she waited for the green light. When it winked her on, she barreled into the mantrap and waited for the next set of sliding doors to open.

"Good morning."

She snapped her head up. Tay stood not more than a meter past the metal detector, sipping a coffee.

"You better not have slept here," she warned, stalking into the embassy's main corridor.

He lifted the mug he held. "To tell you the truth, I just got in. Haven't had time to do anything but accept a coffee from the
vigilante
on duty. Very good blend, by the way."

She glanced down at the mug he held. Her mug.
He was drinking coffee out of her mug
.

He lifted it up. "I borrowed it."

"So I see. Hope you gave it a good scrubbing. I never have time."

"Don't worry. I did." He turned as she brushed past him. "I guess you always do come in early. How's the head and knee?"

Throwing him a chilly look, she stalked down the hall. Her footfalls echoed in the quiet embassy accompanied by his. "The knee is better than I figured. I have a headache, though, so if you don't mind, don't talk to me until I've had a coffee and checked the map." She nodded to the
vigilante
who'd replaced Ramos earlier that morning as she passed his desk to head into her office.

Smiling, Tay followed her. "The map? Planning a sightseeing tour for me? How nice."