Iris Johansen - Stalemate

"Montalvo's attitude toward you didn't appear to be antagonistic."

"No, but he has rules, and Gonzales broke one of the major laws that govern his men. If I got in the way, he wouldn't think twice about killing me."

"Laws. Rules. A military compound. This man is a criminal running a criminal organization. What's happening here?"

He shrugged. "Search me. It works for him. His men are loyal and thoroughly intimidated by him." He paused. "And they admire him. That keeps them in line more than any other factor. We had a devil of a time locating one of his men who'd turned traitor to him. It took me more than eighteen months to find Gonzales and another three to persuade him."

"How did you do it?"

"Money. A great deal of money and a promise to get him away before Montalvo found out."

"Which you didn't do." Her gaze wandered around the hall they were going down. "This is a palace. I was surprised when I got here. It was weird to see a place like this in the middle of the jungle. Montalvo evidently likes his creature comforts." And he had appeared perfectly at home here last night, she remembered. Civilized, graceful, handsome. "He built a military fort and then set himself up as emperor."

"According to Gonzales, he didn't build either the fort or the palace. About ten years ago he took them from a Hector Caranda who was the local drug lord in the area."

"Took?"

"Caranda and his men aren't around any longer. I imagine if you looked hard around the jungle you might find their graves."

"Wonderful." She looked at him. "You don't appear upset."

"If criminals fight criminals, it leaves less for us to get rid of. They can all kill each other for all I care." He gestured to the curved arch just ahead. "The breakfast room. His Highness awaits."

"I'm flattered, Soldono," Montalvo said from behind them. "I was wondering if you noticed my regal air." He nodded at Eve. "He's been filling your ears with poison about me. Probably most of it is true, but it's still unpleasant." He waved her into the room. "And I don't 'await.' I've been busy working since six."

He held her chair for her at the gleaming oak table. "To keep myself calm and harness my anticipation for our meeting this morning." His gaze raked her face. "I see you've also been anticipating it. Perhaps with not so much eagerness but definitely with curiosity." He waved his hand and a white-coated servant appeared from the door across the room. "I understand you don't eat a large breakfast so I ordered eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast."

"That's too much."

He smiled. "And in case you said that, I ordered orange juice and coffee and a bagel. Sit down, Soldono. You're boringly predictable. He always has French toast and Canadian bacon, Eve. You wouldn't think he had a sweet tooth, would you?"

"I don't know him. I wouldn't speculate on what he'd like."

"What about me?" He sat down across from her. "By all means, speculate."

She met his gaze. "I think you already had your breakfast at six. Probably something light. Juice, coffee… maybe toast."

He chuckled. "Right. Except for the toast. I always have a tortilla. It brings back memories of my childhood. One of the pleasant ones. It's always best to hold on to whatever happy memories we can revisit. Don't you agree?"

She lifted her orange juice to her lips. "Why are you talking about food and childhood memories? I don't give a damn about your blasted tortilla. I'm not here to socialize or to get to know you. I came here to do a job."

"Yes, you did." He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. "You look exceptionally good in all the light pouring into this room. Not many women can bear daylight truth but it wraps around you as if it loves you. I wondered how you'd look having breakfast here."

"Bullshit."

"But I did."

"And I didn't anticipate sitting here having breakfast with a man who goes around wearing a ridiculous pistol as if he were some Old West gunslinger. It's a little over-the-top, Montalvo."

He laughed as he glanced down at his holster. "But necessary on occasion. I've been a soldier too long. I've learned you can't count on being safe just because you're on home ground."

"My job," she prompted. "The reconstruction."

He nodded and turned to Soldono. "Would you excuse us? I think you'll find the terrace very comfortable this morning. I'll have your breakfast served there."

"Eve?" Soldono asked.

"I'll see you later," she said.

Soldono shrugged, stood up, and strode out the French doors.

Montalvo nodded at a servant, who hurried after Soldono.

"Soldono will be tempted to eavesdrop but he'll get such excellent and hovering service it would prove too awkward." He lifted his coffee to his lips. "It will be frustrating for him."

"Where is the skull? Where am I to work?"

"I have a studio set up for you in the library."

"Let's go."

"Finish your breakfast. You've barely started your bagel."

"I don't want the bagel. I want to see the skull."

"The bagel is your better bet."

She stiffened. "What?"

"The skull isn't here at the compound."

"Where the hell is it?"

"It's not been unearthed yet. It's buried about ninety miles north of here in a small cemetery."

She said through her teeth, "I don't rob graves, Montalvo."

"You won't have to rob this grave. I'll do it. I just couldn't do it until you were here and ready to do the job. You'll have to work faster than you've had to at any time in your career."

"And I don't act as an accomplice to grave robbing. Go get someone else."

"I've got you."

She met his gaze. "No, you do not . You played me like a violin to get me here, but I won't be manipulated by you to do anything that's against my conscience. Violating a grave is high up on the list."

"Because you think of a proper burial as bringing someone home. That's what you've been working toward since your daughter died." His lips tightened. "I assure you that the person in that grave has not been brought there by loving, caring hands. It's not home, Eve."

"So you say."

"It's the truth. Look at me." His voice vibrated with the force of his words. "I'm telling you the truth."

She had to believe him. "Or what you believe as truth. If you were sure, you wouldn't have brought me down here to verify. And why couldn't you get someone to do DNA?"

"I have someone lined up to do DNA, but I have to have some sort of proof before he'll run the risk."

"Why?"

"Because any scientist who touched that skull would end up murdered in a most unpleasant fashion."

"By whom?"

"Ramon Diaz. You may have heard of him."

"I've seen photos in newspapers. Drugs."

"Yes. Drugs and vice and murder."

"Then you have a good deal in common."

"You may think so. I told Miguel that you'd never met Satan. If you'd ever run across Diaz, I wouldn't be able to say that. I have my moments, but Diaz is the master. He's set himself up in a castle and thinks he's a king and has a license to do anything he wants to do."

"And if a DNA expert's life would be on the line for examining the DNA, what about mine?"

He nodded. "It would be the same. Forensic sculpting isn't accepted in a court of law, but you know about the skull and that would be enough."

She stared at him incredulously. "You admit you brought me down here to risk my neck for your reconstruction?"

"Yes."

"You bastard."

"Yes, but not Satan. Remember the difference." He took another sip of coffee. "And, if I'd had time to work at it, I could have been completely honest with you and you would have still come. If the price is high enough, the risk is worth it. But I didn't have the time once I put the plan in motion. I had to strike while I had the opportunity. I took the chance that you'd cooperate once you were here."