Renaldo (94 page)

the piece of paper in two.

“Here is the key to my safeety box. I have written its number on the

deposit slip. Write down your home phone number for me on this other half.

When you have the chance, go and empty the contents of my box and take

them home with you. I will call you tonight and make arrangements to pick

them up. Please, Marla, I am desperate! I have also written a check on my

account for some money. Take it, and try to get me whatever you can!”

“Lonnie, I can’t access your account. It has been frozen by the computers. I

can lend you a bit of money from my own account, but it will be nowhere near

the sum of this check. As for the deposit box, I need your signature to . . .”

Marla’s voice trailed off as her eyes focused on a figure approaching from

across the employee’s concourse.

“Lonnie you must get out of here now. One of those men is coming this

way. Here, this is my number. Call me tonight. I will see what I can do. Now,

go!”

She spun around quickly clutching the key and the piece of paper in her

small fist. Marla Gallego was seated and pouring over her ledgers by the time

the shadow of Astor Gordero’s operative fell across her desk.

Lonnie De Seta had reacted with equal stealth, mostly due to the enormous

amount of nervous adrenaline that was pounding through his veins. He moved

swiftly, but he was cautious not to attract undue attention. He allowed himself

one final glance back at Marla just as he was about to push the revolving door

and make his exit.

The young girl was visibly upset, and in that split second, his eyes met

those of the phony bank employee. The man shouted for his partner and reached

underneath his jacket to reveal the butt of an oversized handgun.

The wanted man was through the door and down the steps of the Banco

Rio de la Plata in a heartbeat. He barely felt the weight of his suitcase as he

searched desperately for a means of escape. There was only one obvious choice.

It was fortunate for Lonnie De Seta that Avenido San Martin was a

prosperous commercial street. It was also fortunate that due to the heavy

demands placed on city’s banks during World Cup Tournament, there was

always a profusion of yellow and black taxis adjacent to these institutions. It

was into the rear seat of one of these vehicles-for-hire that the desperado flung

himself.

“Hurry, I have a train to catch. Constitution Station, pronto!”

As the cabby wheeled from the curb, he took a good look at his passenger

in the rearview mirror.

“Hey, you’re not some kind of bank robber or something are you? I saw you

come down those steps in a real hurry. I don’t want any trouble or anything.”

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RENALDO

“Relax, my friend, I’m not going to hurt you. Just drive quickly!” Lonnie’s

hand gripped the handle of the Llama pistol that protruded from his waistband

under his suit-jacket.

“I had the misfortune of running into my lover’s husband in the bank

queue. It became a rather messy scene. He threatened to rearrange my anatomy

right then and there, so I decided that discretion was the better part of valor,

and I beat it! Now drive, amigo, for I must get out of the city for an extended

vacation. The man is a monster!”

The lusty smile that greeted the tall tale reassured Lonnie that the cabbie

was no longer a threat. He turned around to glance out the rear window.

“Don’t worry, Señor. No one will catch us. I drive like a Formula One

champion! Sit back, relax. I will take care of you.”

What Lonnie De Seta needed now was to disappear and rethink his course

of action. Everything rode on Marla being able to access his safety deposit

box. It would be several hours before she arrived home from the bank, and he

needed to formulate a contingency plan. The situation had gone from bad to

worse, and if things continued to unravel, there were very few people left that

could lend a helping hand.

Surrender was not even a consideration, for the stories of the barbaric

treatment of prisoners emanating from such places as Olimpo Prison made it a

moot point. He had to carefully plan his next move. It would have to be a plan

he could use if the sexy little bank employee came home empty-handed.

Constitution Station serviced the southern routes to and from the capital

city, and on this day in particular, the mammoth structure filled Lonnie’s needs

perfectly. Both the approaches and the passenger concourse were teeming with

newly arrived football fanatics and weekend revellers, all in a party mood.

The atmosphere had a distinct Brazilian flavor about it, for thousands of

the samba men’s devotees had made the trip north from their headquarters at

Mar del Plata. They were arriving en mass to spur their heroes on to victory in

Saturday’s third-place battle against Italy. It was as if an impromptu carnival

had erupted, and each successive trainload of visitors added to the frivolous

mood of merriment. The drums, the whistles, the music. The samba beat had

reached the capital city for the first time in the tournament.

The man running for his life lurked in the shadows of the taxi’s backseat.

He kept a sharp eye on both the crowd and the cab’s meter. It soon became

evident that their progress would be slowed to a crawl by the surging throng

that spilled out onto the main thoroughfares surrounding the station.

His freedom flight had been expensive. The fare of almost eight thousand

pesos, or ten American dollars, virtually cleaned out all his financial reserves.

He pondered the possibility of bolting from the crawling vehicle and dissolving

into the crowd.

431

JAMES McCREATH

Lonnie knew that he would be slowed by the bulky club bag, and the

last thing he needed was the notoriety of some irate cabbie screaming at the

bystanders that he had been robbed or cheated. No, he was painfully aware that

the only option here was the straight and narrow. He had enough money left to

make a few phone calls and maybe buy a cup of coffee, that was it!

“Look at those stupid assholes!” the cabbie shook his head in disgust.

“What the fuck do they have to celebrate? You would think that they were in

the championship final the way they are carrying on. Go home! Go back to

where you came from, you bunch of banana eaters!”

He was leaning out his driver’s door window screaming at the bemused

party makers. Lonnie threw a handful of peso notes into the front seat, slid

quietly out the rear passenger-side door onto the sidewalk, and disappeared into

the samba line. The loudmouth driver was now involved in a heated discussion

with several men dressed in yellow Brazilian football jerseys, and the last thing

that the hunted man needed was to become involved in an altercation.

The journey into the terminal proper was circuitous and boisterous to say

the least. Lonnie didn’t feel like dancing, but one glimpse of the olive green

militia uniforms that ringed the party scene convinced him that the snaking

samba line offered the anonymity he needed. The suitcase was a nuisance, but

finally after about ten minutes of rhythmic shuffling, he walked through the

open air portal and into the darkness of Constitution Station.

The national security forces were highly visible that weekend. Wherever

there was a chance of large groups of people congregating, the men in uniform

made their presence known. Police with dogs, mounted units on horseback

dressed in full riot gear, armored vehicles with their terrifying water canons,

and of course, scores of foot soldiers were all in attendance. As if that were not

sufficient, busloads of reserves were parked on quiet side streets in strategic

locations. The tournament had come off without any terrorist incidents thus

far, and both the governing junta and the common people of Argentina were,

for once, in agreement. A strong show of military muscle and an obvious

preparedness to defuse any ticklish situations were the best deterrents. No one

wanted it to rain on this parade!

Lonnie’s heart was pounding heavily as he finally managed to locate a

remote waiting area and plunk himself down on an empty wooden bench. He

was drenched in perspiration from his impromptu samba lesson. A discarded

newspaper became his shield from curious eyes as he opened it studiously and

pretended to pour over its pages. His eyes were unable to focus on any but the

largest headlines, however, for the thoughts racing through his mind dealt only

with his own survival.

It was over one half hour before he dared to lower his pulp protector and

scan the area for any overt interest in his being. Much to his relief, the festivities

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RENALDO

taking place outside in the open air were much more interesting than the now

rumpled transient. No one gave the ‘Attractive Assassin’ a second glance.

By five-thirty in the afternoon, he got up enough nerve to try Marla’s

home phone number. The banks closed at four o’clock, so there was a chance

that she might have had enough time to make it to her flat, which was not

a great distance from the Banco Rio de la Plata. He knew that on Fridays,

the employees seldom left the branch before six o’clock, but he was so bored,

he figured that he had nothing to lose. To his amazement, his former lover

answered the phone after just one ring.

“Hello, Marla, it’s Lonnie. How are things? Are you alright?” There was

dead silence on the end of the receiver.

“Marla, are you there? Can you hear me? It’s Lonnie. I’ve been waiting for

. . .”

“Lonnie, I can hear you, although the sound of your voice is like a

nightmare to me. I am so confused and frightened.” Her voice was a tearful

whisper, barely audible over the stacic-riddled phone lines.

“Marla, were you able to get into my safety-deposit box? What did that

man say to you after I left? How about the cash? Were you . . .?”

“Lonnie, listen to me. I don’t know what kind of trouble you are in, but

why did you have to involve me in your deceptions? I haven’t seen or talked to

you in over a year, then suddenly you turn up out of the blue one day and all

hell breaks loose.” Lonnie could sense the fear in her voice turning to anger.

“I don’t have anything for you tonight, and I won’t be able to help you, ever!

That agent wanted to know who the man was that I had been talking to. He

said that he had never seen you before in the branch. The bank has surveillance

cameras everywhere, especially in the vaults where the safety-deposit boxes

are located. One of the men works the floor of the bank, the other one is in a

back room monitoring the cameras. If I ever set foot in that area after today,

they would know I was your accomplice. Frankly, Lonnie, you are not worth

the risk to me!” She was talking so quickly now that she had to stop to catch

her breath.

“Don’t be frightened, Marla, just tell me what happened.”

“Don’t be frightened? Fuck you, Lonnie! They pulled me into Señor

Rodrigue’s office for over an hour and treated me like I was dirt! I won’t be

subjected to that kind of filthy language and lewd behavior for you or anyone

else! Those men are the scum of the earth.”

“I am sorry, Marla, really I am. You just don’t know what I have been

through the last few weeks. It is totally beyond comprehension. I will try to

make it up to you one day, believe me, but for now, I have to know what you

told them about me.”

433

JAMES McCREATH

“I told them nothing about you. I said that the man was an old boyfriend

who was still in love with me. I told them that we had broken up a few months

ago, but now he had shown up out of nowhere to see if he could win me back

with two tickets to the World Cup championship game on Sunday. I even made

up some phony name to cover for you, Lonnie.” She was crying now, more out

of rage than self-pity.

“Do you think that they believed you, Marla? Is there any chance that

they might find out that you were lying to them? What about the key and the

piece of paper?”

“They didn’t find them. I stuffed them inside one of the ledgers that I

was working on as soon as I sat down. I was able to put them into my purse

before I left the branch. I have them here with me now. I don’t know if they

believed me. They made me leave the bank right after the interrogation. Señor

Rodrigues told me that they were going to review the surveillance videotape,

and if they found any irregularities in my story, that, that I would be fired!

Fired, Lonnie, goddamn it! I love my job, you know that. How could you ask

me to put my whole life on the line for you?”

The fugitive had to be careful, for this girl was one of only a handful of

people that he could count on now. He could not risk losing her friendship at

this critical point in time.

“Marla, I swear that one day, I will make amends for all the turmoil I

have caused you today, but as I told you, those people want me dead. They