“Good,” Carlos said, smiling. He was relieved.

“No, you don’t understand. I’d like to end this now.”

“I would, too. If you could give me one or two minor names. People who are not important, but who might show up on the lists the Americans have. That would be enough, uncle.”

“I cannot. They are all people you know. Some are people I’ve known since I was a boy. Anyway, I want you to leave that pistol you have on your belt. I’m asking as your uncle, your mother’s brother. You cannot deny me this. You have a duty to your family,” Rudy said. “No one will blame you. Everyone will understand that it was your uncle, and you had no choice.”

“Perhaps,” Carlos said. He knew immediately that he couldn’t refuse. That was the code. It was that damn Latin code, the Americans would say later. They didn’t like it, but they would understand, and they couldn’t do anything about it. “But there’s no reason. There must be a name you can give, one that doesn’t matter,” Carlos said.

“Everything matters, that’s what I’ve learned after all these years of living. Now, are you going to honor my request, boy?” He knew he would break. Carlos could see the fear of breaking in his uncle’s eyes. It was a look he’d never seen his uncle give before.

“Do you want to use the phone?” Carlos said, unholstering his pistol.

“No. I think if I spoke with anyone, I’d lose the courage. I can’t waste the courage. I never had much anyway.” He smiled, and his nephew smiled back. Carlos put his pistol on the desk.

For a moment the old man’s spirit had returned, and it was as if none of this had happened.

“When you’re President, you’ll make sure your aunt is protected,” Rudy said.

“Of course,” Carlos said, standing up. “I will make sure. I promise you.”

“Good. Well, that’s it, then,” Rudy said.

The two men looked at each other. Carlos came across the desk and the old man stood up and they gave each other the abrazo, the Latin embrace that goes back centuries. It was formal, yet warm. The old man sat down again.

“I’ll go out for a moment then,” Carlos said.

“Yes. Go out. It’s a beautiful night,” his uncle said. Carlos nodded and closed the door behind him.

He walked down the long corridor, with its trophies and green linoleum and photos of past commanders of the Army, when he heard the gunshot and stopped. He pulled out his cigarettes, took one out carefully, and then looked at his watch. It took several moments for a young lieutenant to come running. It was one o’clock in the morning, almost exactly.

He would be named President today, he thought, as the young man ran past him. He had always liked his uncle. He lit the cigarette and went home.

THIRTY

Russell had been calling Mahler at Tres Rios, but wasn’t getting through. When he finally got an answer, Mahler told him his cell phone had been damaged and he’d been unable to call out.

“I’ve been hurt,” Mahler said. “I can’t move it—the jaguar— by myself.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Russell said.

“You’re sure? We don’t have much time. The news about the jaguar will get out, it always does.”

“Yes. Tomorrow at the latest. Are you alone?” Russell asked. “Where are the men?”

“Yes. Alone,” Mahler said. “I thought it best.”

Russell held the phone a moment. The words were chilling.

“Carl’s dead. I’ll explain later,” Russell said finally. “I’ve called his brother in Paris. It’s all arranged. The brother is to meet us at Puerto Barrios in a week. He’s flying in from Paris and making arrangements. He’ll take delivery there at Barrios. He’s arranging it all.”

“What happened to Carl?” Mahler asked.

“I can’t say now.”

“Hurry up, then,” Mahler said.

“Yes. I just have to finish up here in the capital. A few loose ends,” Russell said.

“It’s very big. Much bigger than I expected. But I can’t move it,” Mahler said again. “I don’t know how the bloody hell we can get it out of the temple. And it’s too big for the river.”

“We can take it through Bakta Halik,” Russell said. He didn’t want to talk so much on the phone. It was dangerous.

“Maybe. That’s twelve kilometers of jungle. You haven’t seen it. It’s big. Taller than I am,” Mahler said. Mahler sounded exhausted. “I guess it’s four meters high.”

“Jesus,” Russell said, and they were suddenly cut off.

•••

“Why are we here?” Katherine asked.

He looked at her. He’d rented the penthouse suite at the Camino Real. It had a fabulous view of the Volcan de Fuego.

“Because this is where you’re going to meet with President Blanco.”

“No, it isn’t. The delegation is scheduled to meet him in the ballroom,” she said.

“I want you to change that,” Russell said.

“You want me to ask the President of the republic to come up here?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do. It won’t be difficult.”

“Russell, what in God’s name is going on?” she asked.

Katherine was wearing a blue pants suit. He’d never seen her in that kind of formal business wear. She looked the part of UN delegate now, almost severe-looking, he thought, and older.

“You’re going to tell him that the delegation has special information about human rights abuses in the country. That Blanco has been named personally, and that you want to give him a chance to clear his name before the delegation goes to the press. That you are concerned for the delegation’s safety if they leave the hotel, and that the delegation would appreciate it if he came here, in a more private setting,” Russell said.

“That’s absurd. There is no such report. And we aren’t concerned about our safety. We have the UN Commissioner of Human Rights with us, for God’s sake. No one would dare do anything to her.”

“Do you want Carlos Selva to be president of the country?” he asked. He was sitting down in the huge living room. The maid had just opened the curtain, ignoring their conversation in English.

“Of course not. The man’s a monster. And he has violated human rights as head of intelligence. I should know,” she said.

“Well, if you don’t help me, Carlos is going to assume the Presidency tonight. Blanco is leaving the country. He’s had enough. He wants to go to Miami and appoint Carlos President. We can stop Carlos. But you’ll have to help me.”

Katherine came further into the huge room. The maid went to the servi-bar and started putting out soft drinks on the bar top. He’d ordered the bar to be stocked, and bottles of liquor to be arranged on the bar top. When he’d said the word Blanco, the maid had looked up at them for a moment

“I’m going to assassinate Blanco, and I want you to help me,” he said calmly.

She looked at him a moment as if he had said something childish.

“You’re out of your mind,” she said finally.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “You say that you want to change the world. You’ve said that since we first met. You said you’ve dedicated your life to it. Everything you do is about that, about helping people—about fighting back against evil. Well, here’s your chance. You have a real chance to do something instead of just talking about it. If I kill Blanco, he can’t appoint Selva.

“We’re going to take over the government. Madrid’s group. Antonio has promised to hold elections in 12 months. In the meantime, there’s a plan to end the economic crisis. We’re going to sell the national phone company and the oil company. Jose will be able to stabilize the balance of payments with the money.

“Carlos won’t hold elections—ever,” Russell continued. “You know that. And he won’t do anything about the economy except what the fools at the IMF tell him to do. The country will end up like Argentina, only much worse.

“You’re either with us or not. I promise you it will make a difference,” he said. “Otherwise, the Communists will come back, and this time they’ll win. Help me stop that from happening. We can stop all that suffering.”