Iris Johansen - Stalemate

"You ran a risk for that mole in Montalvo's camp."

"Gonzales was valuable. Most of Montalvo's men are loyal to him and the chances of getting another informant in his camp are practically nil. We have to know what he's doing."

"Why? A two-bit weapons dealer?"

"There's nothing two-bit about Montalvo. You didn't check deep enough. He's the big man to go to for weapons in South America. He supplies drug dealers, rebels, militias, anyone with the money to pay. If we can't stop him, we need to know where those weapons are going."

"And Gonzales was telling you."

"Until Montalvo caught him last week. He contacted Soldono and invited him to the compound for a discussion. You know the rest."

"A screwup."

"If it was, I have to bear the brunt of the blame. I told Soldono to stall, to find a way that wouldn't involve pushing an American citizen into jeopardy." He paused. "Actually, I was surprised that Montalvo thought Gonzales's life or death would even matter to her."

"It would matter. When you work with death as much as Eve does, life takes on a very special value. But it worries the hell out of me that Montalvo would realize that about her. You wouldn't think he'd-I want to know more about Montalvo."

"He's smart, he's deadly, and not always predictable. I don't have time to fill you in on anything else about him right now. As you can see, I have a problem. I'll phone you when I find out anything about Soldono." He hung up.

Joe slowly pressed the disconnect. His uneasiness was growing. Montalvo's insight into Eve's character was chilling. No threats to her family, she had said. Nothing that would trigger instant antagonism. But he'd still played on the sensitivity that was Eve's core.

He rose to his feet and went into the house. Eve was totally absorbed, her fingers flying over the features of her reconstruction. She didn't look up as he came into the room. She had forgotten everything but her Marty and the task of bringing him home.

For once he was grateful for that single-minded dedication that was a key quality of Eve's. She wouldn't even realize that time was passing if Venable didn't get back to him right away.

Eve carefully set the brown glass eyes into the sockets of the reconstruction and took a step back. It was the best she could do. She only hoped it would be good enough. "What about it, Marty?" she whispered. "You were a very handsome little boy, you know. Lord, I hope you have a safe haven somewhere now. I'll do the computer work and then we'll see if we can bring you home."

"Finished?"

She turned to see Joe sitting on the couch. She nodded and reached for the towel to wipe her hands. "Finished. It took a long time. It wasn't coming." She arched her back to ease the ache. "It's almost dark."

"It was dark an hour ago."

"Oh." She shook her head to clear it. It was always like this after she'd finished a reconstruction. Exhaustion, disorientation, and sadness. "Longer than I thought."

But the world was coming back to her now. "Did you get through to Soldono? No, that's right, you were calling Venable."

"Venable hasn't called me back yet. He doesn't know anything about why Soldono isn't answering his phone. Why don't you take a shower? I'll put a pizza in the oven and we'll-" Joe's cell phone rang. "Quinn." He listened for a moment. "Okay, call you back."

"Something wrong?" Eve asked.

"I don't know. Venable got an anonymous message on his voice mail."

"What's that to do with us?"

"It was only two words. 'Duncan. Porch.'"

Her gaze flew to the screen door. "Porch." She was across the room in a heartbeat.

Joe beat her to the door. "Get the hell away from there." His shove was not gentle. He opened the window to the right of the door, jerked the slender flashlight out of his pocket, and shone the beam out onto the shadowy porch. "Nothing. No one." He swung over the windowsill onto the porch and crouched low. The beam played over every inch of the porch. A moment later he straightened. "No one's here."

"False alarm?"

"I didn't say that." The beam of his flashlight was focused over a rectangular Styrofoam box before the front door. "But at least the delivery boy is gone."

Eve jerked open the door and looked down at the box. Jesus, she was shaking. "What is it?"

"No wires. That doesn't mean that it's not explosive."

She bent down and touched the top of the box. "It's… cold."

"Keep your hands off it. Evidence."

"I don't care. Dammit, Montalvo wouldn't want to blow me up. Open it. If you have to preserve your damn evidence, do it. But open the box."

"The two actions don't coincide. Oh, shit." He took his penknife and carefully cut the tape binding and slowly opened the lid. "Step back while I-"

Blood.

"Oh, my God," Eve whispered.

Joe slammed the lid of the box shut.

"No." Her voice was shaking. "I'm okay. Open it again."

"You've seen it. It's a man's head."

"Open it."

He hesitated and then opened the box again. Brown eyes stared blindly up at her from the man's head lying in the box.

"Gonzales?" she whispered.

"I don't know. We have no idea what he looks like. It could be Soldono."

She felt sick. "Why? I told him we'd talk."

"He might be nuts. He might have recognized it as a stall. Who the hell knows?" He took out his phone. "But I do know I'm going to get a forensic team out here to examine this box."

She nodded. "You're right. I probably shouldn't have asked you to-" She stopped, gazing down at the head. "Wait. There's something wrong."

"Tell me about it. Very wrong. The bastard beheaded him."

"No. The eyes…" She extended her hand toward the head.

"Don't touch him."

"I don't think…" She moistened her lips. "At least, the eyes…" Her fingertips touched the left eye. She drew a deep breath. "Bring the box inside."

"I'm not moving it."

"I want more light." She picked up the box herself. "If you won't help, get out of my way." She could hear Joe cursing as she set the box down on the floor inside the door. "It's not what we thought."

He's not what you think. He's not what anyone thinks.

Bonnie had said that about Montalvo, she thought absently. Or maybe Eve had sensed it from her conversations with Montalvo.

"What do you mean?" Joe asked.

"The eyes. They're glass."

"You're sure?"

"I wasn't until I touched it. It just struck an off note when I was looking at him. I've put thousands of glass eyes in reconstructions over the years. And if he has phony eyes, he could-" She turned on the top light and looked at the bloody head. "That son of a bitch."

Joe muttered a curse. "It's a fake."

"Not even a good fake. If it hadn't been so dim on the porch, we would have been able to tell. And the blood didn't help. It was immediate shock value." She was shifting the model from side to side in the box, examining it. "Dry ice to make us believe it had to be refrigerated. Everything done very elaborately just to scare the hell out of me. It's like a bratty kid's practical joke. I want to-" She stopped as she caught sight of something lying in the pool of blood in the bottom of the box. An envelope. She picked it up and tore it open.

"A letter?" Joe asked.

"No letter. A photograph." It was a photograph of a young, good-looking, dark-haired man with his arm around a smiling woman. Two children, a boy of about four and a girl who looked to be eight or nine, were standing before them. The little girl wore a stiff white dress and the boy was wearing a white shirt and tie. They looked like they were dressed up to go to church, Eve thought. "What the devil is this?" She turned the photo over and brushed a smear of blood that had leaked through the envelope to obscure the writing on the back. The ink had also smeared but she could read it. "Pedro and Maria Gonzales. Manuel and Rosa on her First Communion." Her hands were bloody from handling the photo, she noticed dully as she dropped it. "The head definitely resembles the man in the photo. I suppose Montalvo wanted us to know who he was. It's absolutely bizarre." She whispered, "I hope that's what he wanted to do."