The Argentina Rhodochrosite (33 page)

68

Nadia led them into the bowels
of La Bombonera again. Ainsley waited outside the door of the locker room while Nadia argued with Patricio, the Boca manager, nearby.

“I can’t take Ovidio off the field right now,” said Patricio.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s part of the team.”

“But he’s not playing. He’s on the bench.”

Patricio shook his head. “Ovidio needs to be with the team.”

Nadia grew exasperated. “Why? So people can throw more trash at him? It’s only for a few minutes anyways.”

“No.”

She beckoned to Ainsley. “We have something,” Nadia said, “that will interest you.”

Ainsley produced the Zorro rhodochrosite necklace.

Patricio took it, held it up to the light. He seemed faintly amused. “You already lied to Ovidio once. Think carefully before you do that again.”

“No, that was stupid,” said Nadia. “This necklace is for real.”

The manager looked skeptical.

Ainsley decided to pipe up. “If you bring him back here,” she said, “you will have Ovidio on the field in the second half.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“We didn’t really mean it before. Now we do.”

Nadia got on the train too. She began to paint an imaginary picture for the manager. “This is the Superclásico. Imagine the story. Ovidio’s second half return leads Boca to victory in the biggest game on the schedule.”

The manager hung his head, a guilty smile creeping across his face. Nadia had just touched his secret desire. “Okay,” he said.

He looked at an assistant and gestured to the field, nodding. The assistant immediately took off running down the hall.

“You can wait inside,” said Patricio.

The two women entered the empty locker room. Ainsley stood in the middle of the benches, tapping her toe on the floor. She noticed that a few more posters of the Virgin Mary had made their way onto the lockers.

A minute later, the door opened and Ovidio burst into the locker room. He was still wearing his blue warm-ups. Up close, his face seemed drawn and haggard.

His eyes lighted upon Ainsley. “But I fired you. In this room.”

“You did,” she said.

“Nadia said that you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, cutting him off. “Look what I found.”

Ainsley held up the rhodochrosite necklace. Ovidio’s face went from stunned to doubly stunned. He ran across the floor and took it from her hand. He turned his back on both women as he inspected it closely.

Then he turned back to the women. His eyes danced back and forth between them.

“This is my necklace,” he said. He regarding Ainsley with open shock, as though she were an angel that had been lowered down to earth.

Ainsley played it humble. “I know.”

“Where did you find it?”

She hedged. “You might not like the answer to that question.”

“But I want to know. You must tell me.”

Ainsley took a deep breath. “Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz had it. In his desk. At home.”

Now Ovidio was triply stunned. “You know Ortiz?”

Nadia had stepped back. She was letting Ainsley have her moment in the spotlight.

“Unfortunately,” said Ainsley. “I think Ortiz ordered me deported. It happened the morning after I met him.”

“And still you came back to Argentina?”

Ainsley shrugged. “I had no choice. I needed to finish the job.”

He blew air out of the circle of his lips. “That bastard.”

“That bastard is here tonight,” said Nadia. “I saw him in the executive club.”

Ovidio shot up from his bench. “You’re right. He always comes to see me play.” He turned towards the door. “I am going to ask him if this is true.”

Nadia stepped between him and the exit. “That is not a good idea.”

“I don’t care. I need to talk to him. Which suite is it?”

Nadia lowered her head. She didn’t have the authority to deny him much of anything. “Forty-seven,” she said. “Please don’t go. You’ll make a scene.”

But Ovidio was already gone. Nadia and Ainsley caught each other’s eyes.

“You like running?” said Ainsley.

“I hate it,” said Nadia.

They took off together. The two women sprinted up three flights of stairs to La Bombonera’s main concourse. They went streaking down the concrete, past the concession stands, the vendors, the bathrooms.

Ovidio was already far ahead of them. Ainsley tried to imagine the fans’ faces as
El Mono
himself sprinted past them in warm-up gear. Word would be spreading quickly, but Ovidio probably didn’t care. He could outrun anybody.

In any event, it was stupid to think that either Ainsley or Nadia could keep up with one of the world’s elite athletes. By the time they reached the suite, they were severely winded. They stopped to catch their breath.

The roar of the crowd encircled them like a wall of endless noise. They had to yell in each other’s ears to be heard.

“I don’t want to go in there,” said Ainsley, gasping.

“Neither do I,” replied Nadia. “But he’s my client.”

“Ortiz will try to kill me if he sees me.”

“He wouldn’t try anything here. Not in front of so many people.”

“But his wife could identify me.”

“So what? You don’t intend to stay in Argentina, do you?”

Nadia pulled back and looked at her questioningly. Ainsley thought about that. From the little that she’d seen, Argentina really was an astonishing nation, unmatched in a multitude of ways. But one man’s wicked agenda would make it impossible for her to stay.

“No, I don’t,” said Ainsley.

“Then let’s go inside and make sure the baby doesn’t get spanked.”

69

The thirty members of the executive
suite weren’t standing at the windows, as usual. They had arranged themselves in a circle in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the circle stood two people: Ovidio and Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz. They were facing one another, like two men in a duel.

The military man was in his customarily crisp military uniform. He was listening very closely, a serious look on his face. His right hand was hooked around the neck of his wife, Maria Libertad. She was looking at Ovidio with the usual blankness in her eyes.

Ainsley’s breath caught in her throat. If she really was his mother, was this the first time that she had ever met her son? It was very likely. And it was also likely that neither of them knew it.

She crept into the room behind Nadia. At the outside of the circle, Ainsley peered over her shoulder.

“So this American,” Ovidio was saying, “she is called Ainsley Walker—she says that she took this from your house. This afternoon.” He lifted up his necklace. “It’s my necklace.”

“Is it?” said the navy officer.

“Yes, it’s my necklace. You know it well. You’ve known me for decades.”

“I don’t think she’s being truthful.”

“She said that Sebastian’s number was underneath it.”

The navy officer shrugged off the accusation. “She can say whatever she wants.”

“But I believe her.”

Ainsley could see the
milico
keeping steely control of his emotions. “I’ve always supported you, Ovidio. I was there when you were nobody.”

“But this woman has a very compelling story. It sounds like the truth.”

Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz grew more impatient. “If Miss Walker is here, she can speak for herself. Like a civilized Christian.”

Ovidio looked around the circle. Ainsley shrank back, but his eyes found her. “There she is. Come out, necklace detective. Talk.”

Nadia leaned into her ear and whispered, “Ortiz can’t hurt you.”

Ainsley sincerely hoped that was true. She took a deep breath and stepped into the circle. Ovidio’s arm went around her shoulders. She appreciated the gesture of support.

“Maria, do you remember me?” she said.

Maria Libertad’s eyes searched Ainsley’s face. “You were in my house today. Why are you here?”

“Your husband can explain.”

It was taking every drop of Ainsley’s willpower to ignore Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz, who was a mere three steps away. She felt his reptilian stare burning into her retinas.

Ainsley waited for a follow-up, but that single comment seemed to have depleted Maria’s entire mental reserve. She actually felt sorry for the woman. She had absolutely nothing in the tank. The torture, all those decades ago, had really done a number on her.

But the lieutenant colonel took over. “How is anyone going to believe you that this necklace was in my house?”

“Because your wife invited me, and that is where I found it.”

He sneered. “Nobody believes her. She’s just a woman. She has no education.” The acid in his voice blistered her ears. “And you… you’re not even from Argentina.”

Ainsley placed her hands on her hips. “You need to believe me when I say that I was in your house today. Remember the wives talking about the American visitor?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “They talk so much nonsense anyways.”

Now he was lying, and it pissed Ainsley off. The situation was ludicrous. Ainsley was actively trying to convince someone of her criminality.

But she was determined to win this fight, so she began ticking off a list of descriptions. “Your house has a French-style decor. Your Rottweiler is kept in a concrete yard off the laundry room. Your maid makes an amazing chicken divan. Your wife and her friends smoke constantly. And the necklace was in the bottom drawer of your desk in your study. Which was supposedly locked.” She paused. “You should get a better desk.”

There were some chuckles among the observers. She was glad that the members of this executive suit, these upper-class
porteños
, heard every word.

The lieutenant colonel’s face began to blanch as he understood that he was on the losing side of the argument. His eye began that odd twitch. He was the only one denying reality. Like a good tactician, he knew that it was time to disengage.

With calm precision, Ortiz collected his overcoat from a chair and took Maria’s hand.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“No, please, I have more questions for you,” said Ovidio.

The
milico
’s response was cold and brisk. “Another time. Remember who supported you all those years. Don’t ever forget.”

Then the navy officer walked his wife across the room. At the door, Maria Libertad turned and stared at the athlete.

“Ovidio,” she said.

An odd sound caught in his throat. “Don’t go.”

“Ovidio,” Maria Libertad said again. It was mostly to herself, as though she were remembering something from long ago.

Then the moment was over. Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz hooked her by the neck again and pulled her out of the executive suite.

Ainsley breathed a sigh of relief. Ovidio seemed dazed. The thirty members of the club immediately enclosed him.

She could hear the athlete talking to himself. “Why is he lying to me? Why did he want my necklace? He’s only done good things for me.”

Nadia took Ainsley’s arm. “You must tell him,” she said.

Ainsley nodded. It had to be done.

“Do you want me to be there?”

Ainsley nodded again. “And the sooner, the better.”

The manager slipped into the group and took Ovidio by the elbow. “Ainsley has more news for you,” she said.

“What is it?” he said.

Ainsley said, “It’s private.” She didn’t think that he would want the members of the executive club hearing what she had to say.

“Okay,” said the athlete. “Where can we go?”

Ainsley had something in mind. She gestured towards a swinging door in the corner of the club. “The kitchen.”

Ovidio nodded. She and Nadia followed him as he pushed through the door.

Inside, two cooks were slicing a carcass on a stainless steel island countertop. The knives were paused halfway through the cuts as the men stared at their celebrity visitor. Their mouths were hanging open.

“
El Mono
,” one said, then made a sign of the cross.

The athlete grimaced. “Please, no, I hate that name,” he said.

When one of the cooks reached into his pocket, Ovidio went over and put an arm across him. “Brother, you can take a picture later. My friends and I need to use the kitchen for a private conversation.”

The cooks nodded dumbly. They moved the meat to a large pan and began to clean the cutting counter.

“No, please, just go,” said Ovidio. “We only need a minute.”

The cooks left. Ainsley and Nadia stood there facing the soccer star.

“I’m ready,” he said. “Speak to me.”

Ainsley took another deep breath. The next words were the most difficult she’d ever had to utter.

“Ovidio,” she said, “your mother isn’t dead.”