Renaldo (78 page)

Gordero paused for effect, eyeing a bowl of fruit that sat just out of reach.

Rodrigues was quick to offer his guest some of the bounty, and The Fat Man

accepted. Coffee was sent for, and the two men settled in for the details of

Gordero’s plan.

“You must freeze the boy’s account temporarily, Anthony, and alert your

staff to notify you if someone attempts to make a withdrawal in person from

his account. I have pictures of his likeness for your staff, although if he is in

captivity, he may look much more haggard than the photographs. You have

modern surveillance cameras in this bank, do you not?”

“Yes, of course, the very finest available,” was the manager’s response.

“Good, good! I want to send a two-man team of special agents to monitor

the activity in your branch. They are very discreet and will dress appropriately.

I am certain you could find them a desk to make things look legitimate to the

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public. These men will be armed, however, and able to alert their team leader

once they are notified that Lonfranco is in the branch, or that there has been

activity on his account. Should he enter the branch, his abductors will likely be

close by. My men will be instructed to detain Lonfranco for his own safety, and

then the area will be swept by the team leader and additional agents looking

for anything suspicious.”

“Astor, this is very serious! Do you not think that the authorities should be

brought in? After all, a kidnapping, and the threat of an armed confrontation

in my bank, these are grave matters.” Rodrigues felt ill as he hoped that this

was all some sort of a joke The Fat Man was playing.

“Too many loose lips, Anthony. Believe me, Lonfranco De Seta’s life

depends on him believing that no one is aware of his predicament. If it is his

money these scum want to get their hands on, then they will keep him alive

until he comes to your bank to get it. Be assured that my agents are the very

best at their profession. They are especially trained for exactly such situations.

Trust me, Anthony, a young man’s life is in the balance.”

Astor Gordero gloated over his performance in front of Señor Rodrigues

as he rode in the rear of his Mercedes on the way to the offices of A. R. Gordero

and Sons. It had been a brilliant ruse, the kidnapping story.

Rodrigues was told to speak only to Astor Gordero about this operation, no

one else. Should Florencia De Seta come by the branch on anything other than

normal banking business, Gordero should be called at once. No information

should be divulged to Señora De Seta until Astor Gordero was present, as to

not cause the lady undue stress.

Rodrigues had not seen Florencia personally in almost a year, so Gordero

thought it unlikely that the two would actually cross paths in the near future.

The ruse had its risks, but those risks might just net Gordero the elusive Lonnie

De Seta.

The fact that there had been no activity, whatsoever, on the De Seta

boy’s account by the end of a month’s time had made Anthony Rodrigues

even more anxious and fretful. He phoned Gordero, insistent upon having the

two distracting agents removed from the branch, but was stonewalled for two

more weeks by the persuasive lawyer. The bank manager had not received

satisfaction. For the first time, he started to smell a rat.

Perhaps a discreet meeting with Señora Florencia De Seta would clarify

the picture and allow me to find out what is really going on at my bank, the

disgruntled head official thought to himself.

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It did not take much to convince Celeste Lavalle that her lover was dead

serious about departing their temporary home quickly and permanently.

“They are on to us. We are leaving, now! Get up and pack your bag. We

are traveling light, so only necessities. And get your weapon ready. We may just

have to use it today!” Lonnie was already stuffing his rucksack full of personal

items by the time he had completed his instructions to Celeste.

“Who is on to us, Lonnie? Where are we going to go?” Celeste was near

tears and trembling. “How will we ever find Serge if we leave? We haven’t

tried hard enough to help him! What are we going to do, Lonnie? Who is on

to us?”

“The newsy knows for sure. He tipped his hand today, the way he looked

at me when he showed me a poster of the ‘Attractive Assassin.’ I could see it!

God knows who he is working for, but we have to go from here right away. We

will hide at No Se Preocupe first, until I can get some money. After that, we

will leave the country. As for the rest, I don’t know, Celeste. Just stay sharp and

in control. We can’t help Serge if we are in jail, or worse!”

At precisely :15 p.m. on an unusually chilly June the tenth, Independiente’s

Enrique Rios stood over the white-and-black ball and awaited Israeli referee

Cohen’s whistle. A short lateral pass to Nicholas Pastor on the left wing got

things going.

There was strong concern throughout the seventy-five thousand powder-

blue-and-white-clad spectators about the radically alerted lineup. To start

with, Angel Martinez had replaced Junior Calix in goal. That move might be

understandable in the light of goaltender coach Estes Santos wanting to give his

backup keeper some experience in the pressure cooker during the first round

games. But what was Suarez thinking of when he penciled in the rest of his

roster?

While the back four remained intact for the third straight game, only

Ruben Gitares was on the pitch from among the forward six players that

had started the French contest. The entire half line had changed. It was all

Independiente now with Arzu, Cruz, and Argueta. Caesar Castro had been sat

down from the wing position that he had played so competently in favor of

Pastor, while Rios rounded out the changes. Six players on the bench who had

played a large part in the victory over France! So much for continuity!

Thousands of armchair coaches in the noisy stadium hoped that Octavio

Suarez knew exactly what he was doing.

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Perhaps Astor Gordero was the only person present that night that really

understood Suarez’s strategy. The two had chatted earlier in the day, with

the manager confirming that he would start all five Independiente players as

Chacon had insisted. There would be other changes as well. Santos wanted to

give keeper Junior Calix a rest. He had sprained his ankle slightly against the

French, and the extra time to mend would serve him well.

De Seta would be on the bench for the entire game! Barring the necessity

of substitution due to injury, Suarez planned to leave his starting eleven on the

pitch for the complete ninety minutes.

“I plan to let the cards fall where they may tonight, Astor. If this lineup

can bring us a victory against the Italians, well, I will be very surprised. But if

they fail me, then all Hell will break loose, I guarantee you that! Chacon and

his bum-boys will finally have the chance to put up or shut up, once and for

all!”

The Italian team was one rich in experience and skill. They played a 1-3-4-

2 tactical game, with tight defensive marking orchestrated by one sweeper with

three defenders in front of him. A concentration of four players in the midfield

was complemented by two counterattacking forwards. Ferocious tackling and

relentless pursuit made their defensive zone hard to penetrate and next to

impossible to score on with veteran Juventus keeper Enrico Sala between the

posts. Up front, newcomer Paolo Martini combined with the poetic Romeo

Nazzareno to strike fear into opposing defenders. It was a lineup that would

overshadow their hosts for the entire evening of June the tenth.

Nothing seemed to work for the men in powder-blue and white. They

could not get untracked against the disruptive pressure that the visitors applied

constantly from the opening whistle. Angel Martinez was forced to be no less

than brilliant in the Argentine goal. Martini, Nazzareno, Speza, and Giancarlo

all tested the substitute keeper in the first quarter hour.

In the other half of the field, there was little about which to become

excited. Only two clear chances were garnered by the host nation in the entire

first half, Sala easily dispensing with these.

The half line was dreadful, Cruz never seeming to find the space he

needed to get his game on track. With their center half teammate playing

below par, the two other Independiente midfielders looked like wandering

nomads. Moreover, Pastor and Rios had barely touched the ball by the time

the interval was signaled. The faithful on the terraces were getting restless, and

there was expectation throughout the throng that manager Suarez would make

his two substitutions during the break. This team needed revitalization, and it

needed it right away!

To the dismay of many, the original eleven players took the field for the

commencement of the second half of play. Octavio Suarez had little to say to

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his laborers in the dressing room. A few words to an individual player here and

there, but no reorganizational plans were discussed and no inspiring pep talk

was offered. Fingers were pointed among the impatient players, and the mood

was dark and somber.

The Azzurri pressed forward with the resumption of play. The blue of

their jerseys seemed deeper, somehow, more vibrant, than the pale shade of

the same color that the home side was attired in. The Azzurri blue ran even

deeper and stronger when, in the sixty-seventh minute, the roof caved in on the

Argentine defense.

Miguel Cruz was unable to apprehend the gifted Martini at midfield,

and the Italian sent a twenty-yard pass laterally to halfback Giussepe Speza.

The Fiorentina player paused to draw three defenders towards him, then softly

placed the ball a further twenty yards upfield, dead on the toe of Romeo

Nazzareno’s right foot.

Nazzareno’s volley to the streaking Paolo Martini was slightly off the

mark, forcing the creative Azzurri striker to turn and come back to the ball.

By this time, Juan Chacon was all over Nazzareno, but he left his mark

standing alone to pursue Martini when the fleet striker had to turn back after

the ball.

I’ve got the little bastard now!
‘Killer’ Chacon envisioned in that split second.

Miguel Cruz and Ricardo Arzu had come back to help out, and all three

Independiente players were descending on the beleaguered Italian.

Martini’s reception of Nazzareno’s volley stunned millions. Instead of

trapping the ball, he simply right-healed it behind him, upfield!

Romeo Nazzareno was a lonely man, his dear friend Juan Chacon having

sought the affections of another temporarily. The slick veteran hit full stride

and gathered in Martini’s gift at the top of the penalty arch. After only a few

paces, he pounded home the game winner from eighteen yards out, with a

swing of his graceful right leg. Ignacio Suazo’s long, sliding frame glided by too

late to obstruct the sphere’s flight.