Renaldo (105 page)

turbulence of his fellow idol worshippers that nothing positive could be

accomplished. Geary was ever at his side, trying to gently coax the terrorist

into giving up his quest. There would be an easier means of paying his respects

later that evening.

“Lonnie, this is crazy. I’m getting trampled to death here. I told you that

Señor Gordero secured a pass for you to this evening’s reception. You can see

your brother there and actually talk to him. You won’t even get close to him

now! Let’s go.”

“No, no! I have to tell him that I am here, that I saw him play. I must!

You don’t understand. Look, there he is. Renaldo, Renaldo over here!”

Several yards away, riding aloft on a surging tide of ecstatic believers swept

the day’s scoring sensation. Renaldo thought that he had heard a familiar voice

calling his name, but in the pandemonium that had enveloped his person,

nothing could be certain. Number seventeen was actually more concerned for

his physical safety at the hands of his boisterous admirers. All he wanted to do

481

JAMES McCREATH

was work his way to the stairwell leading down to the safety of the National

Team’s dressing room.

Rojo Geary was prepared to take action right there on the pitch. The six-

inch, spring-loaded, stiletto dagger that lay in the pocket of his leather jacket

could do the job silently if the stubborn fugitive persisted with this idiocy. In

the crush of people, Geary’s trained hand-to-hand combat techniques would

serve him well. No one would see a thing. When the mob had moved on,

and Geary with it, only the recently departed Lonnie De Seta would remain

behind.

Still, the assassin preferred to stick to his number one plan, and all it took

in the end to keep things on the ordained course was an outstretched right leg

that sent Lonfranco De Seta tumbling to the turf. Geary and several others fell

on top of the tragic figure, and no one, especially Lonnie, was able to tell just

who or what had felled him in the jostling crowd. By the time they had righted

themselves, Renaldo De Seta had made it to the tunnel steps. With the help

of the now very prominent security forces, number seventeen disappeared from

the field of play to safety.

“Son of a bitch! I almost got to him. Damn, I wanted to see him so badly!”

An exasperated Lonnie’s eyes filled this time with tears of frustration.

“Don’t worry, my friend. As I told you, I have your money and a pass for

tonight’s gala in my car. We must get out of here now and retrieve them. I can

drive you to wherever you have to go to get cleaned up and changed.”

Lonnie grudgingly gave in to his new acquaintance’s suggestion. The two

men slowly made their way for the nearest exit, still surrounded by victory-

crazed Porteños.

The walk to the side street near Café El Molino took close to half an hour.

Both men were constantly hugged and kissed by overjoyed citizens of both

sexes. Rojo Geary didn’t mind their playful celebrations, for he had all the time

in the world to carry out his plan. It was Lonnie that seemed distracted, having

little patience for this tomfoolery.

He was deep in thought about his next move. Had Gordero sent him

enough cash to find a place to clean up, change his clothes, and make an

appearance at the Presidential Gala? Would it be safe for him to go out in

public in the first place? He had to see Renaldo one last time before he left the

country, though. Only God knew how long it would be before he would have

another opportunity to hold his brother in his arms and tell him how much he

loved and respected him.

Yes, he would go to the Presidential Gala, and he would say good-bye

to Renaldo. Tomorrow, he would make another visit to his bank, and if he

successfully gained access to his safety deposit box, he could secure an airplane

ticket and travelers checks with his American Express card. No one should

482

RENALDO

notice him leaving Argentina among the general exodus of foreign football

fans.

Lonnie would have the redhead drive him to Marla’s, where he would

retrieve his bag from the alley. Maybe the stranger would then deliver him to a

nearby hotel. If he could have this one night to celebrate with his little brother,

he would leave Argentina a happy man.

“My car is over here. Hold on. I’ll unlock the passenger door for you.”

Rojo Geary pointed to a little red coup parked near the end of a one-way

side street. He slid behind the wheel, leaned over, and unlocked the black glove

compartment, then lifted the chrome door-latch for Lonnie. Geary turned the

key in the ignition as his passenger made himself comfortable.

“Man, it sure feels good to sit down after all that time kneeling on the

grass at the stadium.” Lonnie let out a sigh of relief. “So, where is the envelope

that Señor Gordero sent for me? I can’t believe he actually got me a pass for the

gala tonight.”

“It’s in the glove compartment, my friend. I’ve already unlocked it, so go

ahead, see for yourself.”

Lonnie bent forward to open the compartment with his right hand. At

the same time, Rojo Geary slid his left hand into his jacket pocket and grasped

the ivory-handled stiletto. The assassin’s right hand reached over and took a

firm grip on the back of Lonnie’s leather jacket collar. In one swift motion,

Geary turned so that he was facing his passenger, pressed the release button

on the deadly weapon, and thrust its entire length up under the unsuspecting

terrorist’s sternum, directly into his heart.

The solid grip on the dying man’s collar forcibly calmed the convulsions

of Lonnie’s death throes, and within seconds, all was still and peaceful. Geary

reached over to close the lids of his victim’s shocked, disbelieving eyes, then

extracted the murder weapon from its resting place.

A quick flash of the coup’s high beams brought two men bounding out of

the unmarked five-ton truck that was parked immediately in front of Geary’s car.

The men opened the rear doors of the lorry as Rojo Geary exited the execution

vehicle, leaving the ignition running. He calmly strolled down the side street

as one of the men slid behind the wheel of the red Fiat holding Lonnie’s corpse.

Geary didn’t say a word or glance back as the four-wheeled coffin was driven up

a ramp and into the rear cargo hold of the lorry. No one would see Lonnie De

Seta again until he turned up, burned beyond recognition, in the wreck of that

same vehicle, several weeks later in Bariloche.

Astor Gordero is a very thorough man, thought Rojo Geary as he climbed

into his customized Jeep CJ4, parked just a few yards down the side street. Yes,

The Fat Man always pays attention to details. That must be how he became so

483

JAMES McCREATH

successful. Well, it has been a great day! Great for Argentina, great for Astor

Gordero, great for everyone. Everyone except poor Lonnie De Seta!

Octavio Suarez had given strict orders that only the players and their

coaches be permitted into the National Team’s dressing room immediately

following the championship final. When everyone that mattered had assembled,

Suarez commanded that the door be locked tight, then called for silence.

“Señors, I would ask that you join me in a silent prayer of thanksgiving

and deliverance. A prayer giving thanks for the great achievement that you, the

players, have accomplished today. A prayer for delivering us safely through the

turbulent waters that we have travelled. Let us pray.”

What had been a noisy chamber instantly resembled a mausoleum.

Grown men bowed their heads, many with tear-filled eyes, to acknowledge

their personal indebtedness to a higher being. Suarez was not known as a

religious man, but no one was surprised at his sudden willingness to share the

managerial spotlight with the Creator of all mankind.

In due course, he broke the introspective silence.

“My friends, thank you. Words alone cannot describe my pride and honor

at being associated with each and every one of you in this room. I know that

you have warmed the hearts of millions of people today throughout this great

land. What you have accomplished here is more than just a victory in a game

of football. You have shown the world that Argentina is, once and for all time,

a unified nation. A nation that can rise above political and economic difficulties

and meet any challenge laid before it, just as you have met every challenge laid

before you.”

Suarez’s eyes were brimming with tears now, his complexion ruddy with

emotion, his clothes soaked with perspiration.

“Think back, my noble gladiators, to when there was talk of taking the

tournament away from Argentina. If we had not believed in the Organizing

Committee, this triumphant day might never have occurred. Think back to

when we lost to Italy in the first round. If we had not believed in ourselves,

we would not have this golden symbol of world supremacy to look after for the

next four years. I believed! You all believed! The entire nation believed! And

here is the prize for our strength of conviction. The World Cup Trophy!”

The manager held the golden globe aloft for all to see. For the first time

since he began to speak, the silence in the room was broken by hearty cheers. A

two-fingered whistle from the manager silenced them instantly.

484

RENALDO

“Now, back to business. In a few minutes, the doors will be opened and

we will be besieged with press and dignitaries. Remember that you are still

ambassadors for your country and act accordingly. I will allow them thirty

minutes, that is all. Then the room will be cleared while you shower and

change into your number one dress. The bus will depart in one hour’s time

for the reception at the Hotel Presidente. It will be your last official function

as a member of the Argentine National Football Team. Each of you has been

assigned a room at the hotel for your personal use tonight, but I expect you

to be present at the gala until I dismiss you in the farewell speech that I am

apparently obliged to make.”

The head man took one last triumphant look around the hushed chamber.

His heart was in his throat when he continued.

“So, now you are the supreme champions, and I thank you for having faith

in your coaching staff and advisors. All the world will remember what you have

achieved here today. I am proud to say that I was a small part of your great

success. God bless you all, and Viva Argentina!”

Octavio Suarez was flushed with pride as he nodded to Estes Santos. The

goalkeeper coach echoed the manager’s final exclamation as he let fly the cork

on the first of several score of Mumm’s Cordon Rouge champagne bottles that

had mysteriously appeared. These were about to be both sprayed in celebration

and consumed in honor of this great day.

Ubaldo Luque then unlocked the dressing room door and allowed the

legion of impatient journalists into the inner sanctum. The air was filled with

shouts of ‘Viva Argentina!’ over and over again as each of the newly arrived

guests was given an impromptu shower with France’s bubbly export.