Iris Johansen - Stalemate

"And that means you want him to live."

"Our aims aren't so far apart." She thought about the Montalvo she had come to know. "And I think he deserves to bring his wife home."

"And to blow Diaz out of the water?"

"Hell, yes. He almost killed Joe."

Galen chuckled. "And that deserves every punishment under the sun. For a complicated woman, you have a very simple code, Eve."

"I'm not complicated."

"No more than Lucrezia Borgia mixed with Mother Teresa."

"Call Montalvo again."

He dialed the number and this time Montalvo picked up.

"Ah, you're alive and kicking," Galen said. "We were wondering if you were dead. We had an interesting conversation on the pros and cons of your demise. Yes, we're out of the line of fire. Where are you? Oops." He hung up. "He started cursing. Can't blame him. I heard gunfire in the background. He probably only picked up because he wanted to know if you needed help."

"Evidently he's the one who needs help."

"We can't go back. He's on his own. He'll either get out or not." He glanced at her. "It's not our fault. As I said, if anything, we were a distraction. He had a plan, he has trained men. I think he'll wriggle out of it."

"I hope you're right. How close are we to the compound?"

"Not too far. Who knows? Montalvo may meet us at the gates."

Montalvo didn't meet them at the gates. It was Soldono who came toward them when they stopped the jeep in the courtyard.

"It's evidently not been a stress-free jaunt." Soldono's gaze was fixed on the bullet-splintered windshield. "Is either of you hurt?"

"No." Eve got out of the jeep. "But I don't know about Montalvo and his men. Have you heard from them?"

Soldono shook his head. "But I'm not someone in his confidence. He'd have no reason to report to me. Is there any reason why he shouldn't be?"

"Gunfire." Galen came around the jeep. "That's usually a pretty good sign of trouble, don't you think?"

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But I can't pretend to be concerned. I've told you how I feel about gang wars, Eve. I don't see why you risked your neck when you should be trying to walk away."

"You don't have to see. It was my decision. Did you check on Joe?"

"Once." He held up his hand as he saw her frown. "It's only been four hours since you left."

"Four hours?" She checked her watch and he was right. It was still hard to believe. Those hours had been crammed so full with tension, it seemed as if days had gone by. "Montalvo estimated six hours."

"He's not always right. He must have built in time for disturbances like the one he ran into." He started up the steps. "I had the cook make a pot of coffee and bring it to the front parlor. I imagine you could use a cup."

"Not now." She sat down on the top step. "I think I'll wait for Montalvo."

Soldono shrugged. "Suit yourself." He disappeared into the house.

"Want company?" Galen asked.

"No, go check on Joe. I'd go myself but I believe he sensed something wrong when I went to see him before I left. He can read me even half knocked out with drugs."

"That doesn't surprise me," he said as he went inside the house.

Her gaze was fastened on the gates. Where the devil was Montalvo? If he hadn't been caught, he shouldn't be that far behind them.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Another ten minutes passed before she heard the roar of the truck engine. Two minutes later the truck and jeep entered the courtyard.

Relief poured through her. She jumped to her feet.

Jesus, the truck looked like it had been through a grenade attack in Iraq. Bullet indentations spiked the doors and hood, the passenger door hung half off its hinges. The jeep driven by Montalvo appeared to be in almost as bad shape.

"What happened?" she asked as Montalvo stopped the jeep and jumped out. "Galen said he heard gunfire."

"We got out of the cemetery and through the woods to the vehicles okay." He grimaced. "Well, almost okay. We were intercepted by a troop of Diaz's men and had a few tight minutes. We got out of it, but they radioed ahead and more were waiting for us on the road. They followed us into the jungle and we got out of the vehicles and staged an ambush at the tower."

"What tower?"

"There's a crumbling ancient tower used for religious ceremonies by the Chibcha Indians about forty miles from here. They probably threw down sacrifices from the top of the battlements. At any rate, the windows offer great views for snipers."

"And?"

He shrugged. "We're here, aren't we?" He reached into the jeep and pulled out a muddy leather container. "And we got what we went for. Nalia." He handed her the box. "She's in your hands now."

Nalia, his wife.

His voice was without expression, as was his face. No, not quite, she noticed. There was an almost indiscernible twitch at the corner of his mouth. His shoulders were squared and tense as if carrying a burden.

Burden? My God, he had yanked her skull from the grave with no care, no reverence. How would she have felt if she'd been forced to do that to her Bonnie?

"She'll be in very respectful hands," she said gently. "I'll treat her as if she were my friend. She'll be my friend before this is over."

"Thank you," he said jerkily. He turned on his heel and went into the house.

"It was hard for him." Miguel had gotten out of the jeep and was standing beside her. "It's good that you gave him comfort."

"I only told him the truth." She stared down at the box. "He did it himself, didn't he?"

"Yes. He wouldn't allow anyone else to touch her." He held out his hand. "Would you like me to take the skull to the library for you? The Colonel had me set up your equipment this afternoon. You should be ready to start tomorrow."

She ignored his outstretched hand. For some reason she didn't want to release the skull to anyone else. "I'll start tonight."

His brows rose. "Tonight?"

"Tonight." She started up the steps. "I can do a lot tonight. She's got to be cleaned up and I can start the measuring. Bring me a pot of black coffee."

"You must be very tired. You're not well."

She didn't feel tired. She felt alive and tingling with the excitement and drive of the project ahead. She had a purpose again.

Nalia, we have you safe. We're going to bring you home.

She repeated, "Black coffee."

It was three in the morning when Montalvo came into the library. "Go to bed. This isn't necessary."

She didn't look up. "This is what you brought me here for. Now let me do my job."

"I have every intention of doing that. I just don't want to have to pick you up off the floor if you pass out."

"I won't pass out." She arched her back to ease it. "It doesn't happen when I'm working. No matter how bad I feel, it goes away when I'm working."

His lips twisted. "Divine intervention?"

Divine? Bonnie?

"I never rule any help out." She looked back at the reconstruction. "But purpose and determination can also work miracles."

"I don't want miracles from you. Just a good job. Go to bed and get some rest."

"I will. I was almost ready to stop. I just wanted to get her cleaned up and see what I have to work with."

"And what do you have to work with?"

"All the bones are intact. That's a big help. She's Caucasian, a mature woman." She reached down and handed him an object in a small Ziploc bag. "A tooth. There should be a chance for a DNA match if you have any of her intimate belongings. I suppose you couldn't get her father to give you a DNA blood sample?"

"No way on this earth."

"Well, the tooth may be enough for definite proof."

"He'll think I bribed the lab. I'm relying on your reconstruction to break through to him."

"Don't count on it. I'll do the best I can but I'm not perfect." She glanced at him. "And this may not be your wife. What if it's some other woman that Diaz murdered? What if the man who dredged her from that swamp was just trying to score big money?"