Iris Johansen - Across the River of Yesterday

"No." Serena wearily rubbed her temple. It sounded absolutely crazy, but what else could she expect from her brother? He had fallen into one brouhaha after another from the day he had discovered how amusing life could be if you didn't conform to any of the rules. And she had found it amusing, too, she admitted to herself. Involving herself in Dane's occasional adventures lent a badly needed touch of color to her life, to the regime of hard work and self-discipline she imposed upon herself. There was no question that Dane provided plenty of that color. However, he had never been thrown into prison before. She had a sudden memory of a horrifying film she had seen on television about a young man who had been arrested in Turkey on a drug charge. But this wasn't Turkey, she assured herself quickly, this was… Lord, she didn't even know where he was. "Dane, where the devil are you?"

There was a crackling on the line and then Dane's voice came clearly. "Just contact Colonel Pedro Mendino when you arrive. They have me quartered at the Hotel Cartagena."

"All right, I'll come right away, but where are you, dammit?"

"I told you. I'm in Mariba, Castellano. I have to hang up now. See you soon."

Mariba. Serena slowly replaced the receiver. The shock that had rippled through her was totally irrational. It wasn't as if she hadn't heard the name many times in the last ten years. Castellano was a hotbed of drug-running and smuggling and lately had been in the news constantly because of a revolutionary group challenging the military junta that governed the island.

She had simply grown accustomed to thinking of Mariba through a kind of dreamlike haze, which had nothing to do with her present existence. Now, abruptly, it was no longer far away. Her brother was imprisoned under wildly improbable circumstances, and she was going to return there after ten years.

She closed her eyes and drew a long quivering breath. Why was that night in Mariba suddenly so alive for her again? There had been months when she had forgotten about it entirely, and when she did remember, it was as if she were watching a film starring another woman entirely. The woman she was now bore no resemblance to the frightened girl who had clung to a stranger all through a long, stormy night. Ghosts. The girl she had been was a phantom, and so were Gideon Brandt and Ross Anders and the ramshackle ruin of a house on the outskirts of Mariba. None of it existed for her any longer. There was only the hard- won reality of the life she had created for herself. Was Gideon still there? The chances were very slim; he had been a wanderer and Castellano was not a place where anyone stayed for long. He probably was somewhere on the other side of the world, regarding the memory of their night together with the same remoteness she did. If he remembered her at all.

She turned briskly away from the phone. She'd have to close up the cottage and pack tonight. Tomorrow on the way to the airport she would stop at the bank and take out a sizeable amount of money and put it into traveler's checks. The situation in Mariba sounded weird in the extreme. Those papers Dane's jailers wanted her to sign very likely would have a high price tag, if everything she had heard about the government of Castellano were true.

"I think we're going in the wrong direction," Serena repeated, leaning forward to tap the taxi driver on the shoulder. "Perhaps you didn't understand me, it's the Cartagena Hotel and I'm sure we passed it five minutes ago. I saw a sign-" "Si, the Hotel Cartagena." The driver smiled over his shoulder, his white teeth gleaming below his wide black mustache. "We are going in the right direction. You will see." The cab suddenly leaped forward as he pressed the accelerator. "I will get you there pretty damn quick."

"Not too quick," Serena said dryly as she leaned back in the seat. "I'd prefer to get there in one piece." Maybe there were two Hotel Cartagenas. It didn't seem likely in a town the size of Mariba, but the driver seemed very sure there was no mistake.

She opened her soft leather bag, took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at her forehead. Heavens, it was hot. She would have to pick a taxi with no air conditioning. Not that she'd had much choice. There had only been two taxis available at the taxi stand at the airport, and she supposed she should be grateful to get transportation at all. Castellano's raffish reputation didn't foster it as a tourist spot, and she had seen larger private airports in the States.

Maybe she had been the one making the mistake. She had seen Mariba only at night and the town seemed totally unfamiliar to her in daylight, and there was no question she had been tense and on edge since the moment the small propeller plane had landed. It was idiotic to be so nervous, she assured herself. She would sign the papers, pay the bribe, and she and Dane would be off this island tomorrow.

"Right ahead," the driver said cheerfully. "I told you it would be pretty damn…" He trailed off as he stopped before a wrought-iron gate and blew the horn. The gates began to swing open slowly. "Electric. Pretty damn neat, huh?"

"Very neat." Serena's lips curved in amusement. Modern technology had evidently come even to Castellano. In this case, efficiency had not been allowed to interfere with the exquisite workmanship of the gates. They closed behind them with a quiet swoosh and the taxi started up the tree- lined drive.

The gardens of the hotel were really lovely. Beautifully manicured lawns unfolded before her like a bolt of emerald velvet, orderly beds of tropical flowers bloomed with vivid color, and Jasmine trees were bowed with fragrant white blossoms. If the hotel was as beautiful as its grounds, Dane must be very comfortable…

She drew in her breath so sharply it made her dizzy. They had rounded the curve and a two- story house stood before them. Red tiled roof, gleaming white stucco walls, a fountain spraying sparkling water set in a patio. It was all crazily familiar. A dog should be barking, she thought half hysterically. It should be dark, not daylight and Frank should be running…

"We are here." The driver drove up before the front door with a little flourish.

"This is no hotel." Her lips felt as if they didn't belong to her. "You've brought me to the wrong place."

The driver got out of the car and hurried around to open the door for her. "It is a little surprise. The Texan wants to see you."

"The Texan," she repeated numbly. "And just who is the Texan?"

"Gideon. Who else?" Ross Anders stepped out of the shadows of the front door alcove. "Hello, Serena. How are you?" His dark eyes went over her admiringly. "Besides being very beautiful, very elegant, and very sophisticated?"

"Fine." She moistened her lips with her tongue. "Just fine. How are you?" He looked very much the same as the last time she had seen him. There was a little more gray in his hair and he was wearing a steel-gray business suit that fit his blocky form with tailored elegance. She automatically identified it: Saville Row.

He smiled and stepped forward to help her out of the car. "Very well." He turned to the taxi driver. "Good job, Luis. Take her luggage out of the trunk and set them on the patio. I'll have one of the servants bring them in later."

Serena was suddenly jarred out of the stunned bewilderment into which she had been plunged when she'd seen the house. "No, I can't stay. I have to go to the hotel." She turned to the driver who was now at the trunk, busily extricating her suitcase. "Put it back in the trunk. I'm not staying."

The driver ignored her except for his beaming smile, which was beginning to annoy her exceedingly. He took the bag from the trunk and set it down.

"Did you hear me? I'm not staying."

"You are, you know," Ross said softly. "Luis isn't going to take you anywhere we don't want you to go. Gideon is in the library discussing business. Why don't you let me take you to your room to freshen up?"