Hider/Seeker (15 page)

Harry came to on a sumptuous couch in a sun-drenched living room. His head was splitting and the back of his throat was sickly sweet from whatever Gabriela sprinkled into the food. The wooden rafters came first into focus, then the white walls with old oil paintings. By his side was a baroque wooden table with a silver framed photograph of Ernesto's mother. The polished tiled floor was covered by a jigsaw of silk Persian rugs, and in the corner of the room was a baby-grand draped in a paisley Kashmir piano shawl. He knew where he was. Inside Ernesto's country home, just outside Antigua Guatemala.

The marble bust on the stone mantelpiece of Enresto, looking heroic and noble, was a sixtieth birthday present from Gabriela, he recalled. It was sculpted from a photograph when Ernesto was much younger – when he had thick wavy hair and a bristly moustache. Above the bust was a painting of the assumption of Mary that had been in the family for over a century.

Then Harry realised he wasn't alone in the room. Ernesto was sitting in an armchair in the corner, waiting for him to come around. ‘I wish I could sleep like that,' he said, getting up to examine Harry. ‘You've been out fourteen hours.'

Ernesto's silver-grey head looked down at Harry as he helped him sit upright on the couch, making him more comfortable with a couple of cushions. He was wearing a navy shirt and trousers, divided at the waist by a brown belt that matched his shoes. Although he'd aged slightly since Harry last saw him and looked more portly, it was the same smiling moustachioed face from all those years ago.

Ernesto looked at Harry's pale face and shook his head. ‘What was Gabriela thinking? She can be crazy sometimes. I can only apologise – she's just over protective.' Fifteen years as a lawyer in Miami had not entirely expunged his Spanish accent. He poured two brandies from the credenza and handed Harry a glass.

Harry gulped it down to help rid the taste of the poison and immediately handed the empty glass back to Ernesto who placed it on the coffee table.

‘Who brought me here?' asked Harry, feeling the warmth of the brandy spreading in his stomach.

‘My private security. Nowadays I need twenty-four hour protection from my own government.' The sarcasm came with a smile. ‘I'm driven everywhere in an armour plated car just like a president. Outside this room are two armed men, another two on the roof top with Uzis, and four guarding the grounds.'

‘Gabriela told me you were having trouble.'

‘She's nervous because I received an anonymous letter that there would be an attempt on my life. It's just to frighten me, but Gabriela? Well you know how she is.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘Nothing. No one can do anything in this country of mine, not even the UN.'

‘So you're still going to take up the post on the commission?'

‘What do you think?'

‘Is it worth losing your life over?'

‘You have to be brave if you want justice.'

‘And being part of that commission will really make a difference?'

‘It's not just about clean water, although the people in the mining regions of San Marcos are desperate for such small mercies. Their plight is a symbol of the decay and corruption in our society caused by those greedy bastards in congress who are selling mining rights to whoever they want.'

‘I don't mean to quibble, but you make a good living hiding the funds of the bastards.'

He raised a dismissive hand in the air. ‘I don't touch their money. What I do is within the laws of this land. What they do is a crime against humanity. The death squads are back on our streets again. We have no judicial system anymore. Criminal networks have the power to block government investigations. Evidence is destroyed. And if nothing is going their way, they find a patsy to take the fall or just rub out the opposition in the judiciary. We could talk about the subterranean world of Guatemalan politics all day long but you came all this way to see me about something else, I imagine.'

‘Angela Linehan.'

‘Aha,' he said as if the name was a full explanation on its own.

‘I need to find her.'

Ernesto looked disappointed in Harry and remained stony silent.

‘I know I've no right to ask this of you, but I've no choice,' said Harry. ‘She's set me up good and proper. The cops think I killed an old friend of mine and her husband too.'

‘Well there's no safer place to hide than Guatemala. I can assure you no one will disturb you here because nobody frankly gives a damn about the criminals we allow to roam around the country.'

‘That's comforting to hear. I'll think about it as my back-up plan.'

‘Ninety-seven per cent of our homicides remain unresolved, killers just walk freely.'

‘I'm serious, Ernesto. There's much more to my problem.'

Ernesto sat down opposite Harry with his glass of brandy and listened to him recount his adventures over the previous weeks in London from start to finish, explaining that Angela Linehan had stolen money off an important investor from under the noses of the Marotta clan, who were now holding Bethany.

The colour drained from Ernesto's face on the mere mention of Marotta.

‘What's wrong?' asked Harry.

‘The Marottas are known here. The brothers are connected to the Cobar cartel, importing cocaine and money laundering their funds.'

‘The Cobar cartel was on the news when I arrived,' said Harry.

‘It's never out of the news.'

‘So will you help me find Angela?' pressed Harry once again.

‘I'd like to Harry for the sake of Bethany, but I'm sworn to secrecy. I can't give someone's whereabouts even to my own mother, if she were still alive. It would mean the end of not just my business. You can understand that,' he said, drinking the brandy and putting the glass down on the coffee table.

‘Who'd know?'

‘That's the trouble. They always find out and trust me I have clients who would wipe us all out just on suspicion that we might be leaking their whereabouts. If Angela gets the slightest hint I helped you, she'd withdraw all her funds, liquidate everything and the banks would be asking awkward questions. I can't risk it, Harry. It would be the kiss of death for me and my family.'

‘Just her PO Box address and I'll go.'

‘Dear Harry, you can't save Bethany whatever you think. That money taken by Angela is most certain to belong to the Cobar cartel. The Marottas will be held responsible by the cartel and they know what will happen to them if they let them down. Save yourself at least. It's too late for Bethany.'

Harry felt anger towards Ernesto, even though he might have been speaking the truth. There was no way he'd ever give up on Bethany.

Ernesto continued. ‘Don't underestimate our criminal gangs in this country, they're like a parallel state – all ex-military and ex-cops – armed to their teeth with everything from surface-to- air missiles to converted M1 Abrams. If the Marottas have told them you are somehow involved with Angela, they'll come for you, and they'll find you. Make no mistake. But I doubt the Marottas will have told them yet.'

‘What makes you so sure?'

‘Because the Marottas won't be safe either. My guess is that the deadline they've given you is all the time they've got before the cartel discovers what has happened to their money.'

That was not particularly reassuring to Harry. But all he was focussed on was getting Bethany free.

‘A name of a town or city?' pleaded Harry again. ‘That's all I need.'

Ernesto didn't appreciate being interrupted and raised his voice as he went on to finish the point he was trying to make.

‘You know what they'd do to you if they found you? They start by pulling out your teeth and then move on to amputating parts of you with an electric saw, bit by bit, until you talk. I cannot bring myself to describe how they would finish you off. These are godless men – pure savages.'

‘Ernesto, please, I know Angela is close by.'

‘Anyone working for the Cobar cartel has to prove how macho they are. Part of their initiation ritual is eating a whole snake – alive. Can you imagine that? You can even hear them masticating the bones.'

‘You're just telling me that because you know I'm terrified of snakes.'

‘Seriously, you don't want to go head-to-head with these guys.'

‘The Marottas don't know where I am,' said Harry, growing weary of Ernesto.

‘Maybe not. But one of the brothers, Pasquale Marotta, is in town.'

Harry edged forward on the couch. ‘How do you know that?'

‘I saw him drinking in the Vista Real last week.'

‘You know him?'

‘No, of course not,' said Ernesto in an abrupt manner. ‘But I was dining with a friend of mine, a regional district attorney, who pointed him out to me. He told me Pasquale is untouchable here.'

‘Why didn't you mention this earlier?'

‘Because I thought it was going to be easier to get rid of you.'

‘And you're still not going to help me?'

Ernesto shook his head he wouldn't. ‘Just get out of the country by tonight before it's too late. The longer you stay, the worse it gets for you. Criminal gangs have infiltrated nearly every government and law enforcement agency in the land. They run one half of the country and the government the other half. No one can help you if you get caught.'

‘Give me a clue, anything.'

‘Gabriela told me you brought a gun into our house. Was that purely to scare me and make me talk?'

‘Of course not.'

‘How can I be so sure you wouldn't have used it to get information out of me about Angela Linehan.'

‘It's for my own protection.'

‘From her?'

‘She tried to get me killed; split my head wide open like a coconut. That's what's worrying her. I know her new identity.'

‘So it should be easy for you.'

Harry shook his head. ‘She's probably changed her name by now. She knows what to do.'

‘What happens when you find her?'

‘I know what I'd like to happen.'

Ernesto laughed out aloud.

Harry didn't think his response was that funny and got back to the purpose of his visit. ‘When was the last time you spoke to her?'

‘Two weeks ago by phone, why?'

‘Expect another call from her because she knows I'll come to see you for help.'

Ernesto shrugged. ‘It would not be in my interest to say anything.'

‘Are you going to let me go?'

‘No. Not until we have had lunch together. I know this beautiful place up in the hills that you'll just love.'

‘Is Gabriela joining us?'

‘She's too busy in the city playing Mother Teresa.'

‘And my gun?'

‘Let's go outside, the car is waiting.'

There were tomatoes, okra, snow peas, and cauliflower growing in the fields surrounding Ernesto's colonial villa. Harry stood in tree-shade away from the others, mesmerised by the rolling fields and the volcanic hills in the distance. Ernesto was standing in the courtyard by the open rear door of the armour–plated Mercedes giving orders to a man in a black suit and sunglasses. On the rooftop above them were two teenagers with Uzis hung over their shoulders, training their binoculars on the road outside the house.

Another five armed men, dressed in jeans and light jackets, were smoking cigarettes by a four-by-four. They had the sun in their eyes and were making fun of the two youngsters on the roof with their binoculars.

Harry's head was clearer now and colour was returning to his cheeks. He felt an unusual peace and harmony within himself as the sweet scent of wild cannabis growing along the outer walls of the house wafted towards him in the warm breeze. The world had become a greedy place, full of complications he no longer tried to understand.

The power of the blast threw him to the ground, grit filling his mouth, his head ringing from the grenade's explosion. It was the only sound he heard at first and then the yelling started. He spat out the dirt and rolled over to see flames licking the burnt, twisted metal door of the Mercedes where Ernesto was previously standing. Black smoke from burning rubber was drifting Harry's way, making him choke. Machine gun fire spat out from above and he kept his head low to the ground. Two men running for cover in the courtyard were torn apart by the rooftop Uzis. Thut, thut, thut – gravel stones and dust flew up around Harry's hands and feet.

He got up and scurried through the smoke, holding a handkerchief over his mouth. The remaining men in the courtyard were caught in a hail of lead as they tried to make a dash for the perimeter wall, their arms flailing like dad-dancers at a wedding as they crumbled to the ground.

Harry dived for cover behind the wrecked car, landing next to the body of the man in the black suit. Ernesto was alive, but only just. His hand was covering one of his eyes, his face was red with blood. Ernesto had enough breath left to order Harry to save himself. But Harry ignored him and crawled to his side as the bullets raked the gravel around them.

‘Death can surprise all of us,' said Ernesto, ‘not least, under such a beautiful blue sky.'

‘Don't talk.'

Thut, thut, thut.

Ernesto began to mumble a Hail Mary in his mother tongue but faded away before he could complete the prayer.

The shooting stopped and Harry looked around at the bodies strewn across the courtyard. But it was too late to do anything. In his back, he felt the barrel of an Uzi. He got up to face the two teenagers. One of them went across to Ernesto's body and kicked it to make certain the contract was fulfilled.

The other took a picture of Harry's face with his mobile phone. ‘They want to see if you have any value to them,' he explained in Spanish. ‘It makes no difference to us when we kill you.'