offer the ambassador? What are they?"
His expression darkened, as though hurt and frustration whisked in and then out. Indignation flared in her, but she reined in the urge to snap at him. Instead, she grabbed the spoon and dug into her fruit salad. The sooner she got this evening over and done with, the better.
Dawna woke with a start. The phone? For a minute, she gripped her sheets, blinking in the dark of early morning.
Then the phone rang again.
Home. Her apartment in Cochabamba, a basic one bedroom above a store off the Avenue America. She glanced at the glowing red numbers of her clock. Four-fifteen. Her head still ached, but the five hours all the sleep she'd had worked wonders. She felt heaps better.
The phone jangled again. She leaned over to grab it, while struggling with the other hand to flick on the bedside lamp.
"Hello?"
" Escucheme !"
She cringed at the shout and pulled the phone away from her ear. She hated wrong numbers. " No hablo Español ," she told the man.
"Listen! My English no good. I am Cabanelos."
Chapter Five
Dawna snapped fully awake. This was no wrong number. "Who are you?"
"Juan Cabanelos. You look for me, si ?"
"Yes! Where are you?"
"Listen! I speak with you." His thick accent made him difficult to understand.
She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. "I'm listening."
"No! Not with phone. In person. No policia !"
"I am policia ."
"No. You Canadian. No policia from Cochobamba."
"All right. What do you want?"
"I tell you in person. You know where Cardon Plata is?" His excited voice cracked as he coughed and wheezed.
Dawna set the phone away from her ear. "No. Is it a restaurant?"
"No! A village. Um," He paused, as if struggling with his English. Dawna strained to hear the background noises, but there weren't any. Fine time for the city to fall silent. "West of Oruro, near the border of Chile. Go to the Iglesia de la Merced . No policia , understand?"
She wasn't sure she did, but surely someone in the embassy would know this village, Cardon Plata, and the embassy had maps of the country. "All right. But how do I know you don't want to kill me?"
He laughed. The harsh sound started another coughing fit. "I fight with rifle for many years. If I want you dead, I kill you yesterday. I need speak with you. Important information for you."
Bad vocabulary aside, Dawna got his point. True, he could have killed both her and Tay, but had shot around them instead. Or was it that he had bad aim? She wasn't sure and wasn't comforted by the thought.
But he was suggesting he had important information, something that could no doubt affect the security of the embassy. "When should I meet you?"
"Six tonight. At the church." He hung up.
Dawna looked at the called display, but it said only 'private number'. She replaced the receiver and scribbled the information on a paper she kept by her phone, surprising herself that she'd actually agreed to Cabanelos' demands. She'd been a military policewoman for eighteen years and not once had a suspect called her up to request an interview. But with Cabanelos having skipped out of his apartment, they could use the break, no matter where it came from.
One thing was certain, she decided, throwing back her sheets. She wasn't going to meet him alone.
She should really take someone trustworthy like Ramos, but she had the embassy to think of first and foremost. He was needed there, especially if this was some trick to lure her and other vigilantes away.
Tay. They were both fish out of water here, but at least Tay was as well-trained as she was. According to the introductory spiel he'd rattled off the first day of her course, he'd worked for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for ten years as an undercover and security officer, before the military recruited him to train MP's for embassy postings.
She could call the policia , and they would go up to Cardon Plata, but Cabanelos would see them coming and pick them off
His expression darkened, as though hurt and frustration whisked in and then out. Indignation flared in her, but she reined in the urge to snap at him. Instead, she grabbed the spoon and dug into her fruit salad. The sooner she got this evening over and done with, the better.
Dawna woke with a start. The phone? For a minute, she gripped her sheets, blinking in the dark of early morning.
Then the phone rang again.
Home. Her apartment in Cochabamba, a basic one bedroom above a store off the Avenue America. She glanced at the glowing red numbers of her clock. Four-fifteen. Her head still ached, but the five hours all the sleep she'd had worked wonders. She felt heaps better.
The phone jangled again. She leaned over to grab it, while struggling with the other hand to flick on the bedside lamp.
"Hello?"
" Escucheme !"
She cringed at the shout and pulled the phone away from her ear. She hated wrong numbers. " No hablo Español ," she told the man.
"Listen! My English no good. I am Cabanelos."
Chapter Five
Dawna snapped fully awake. This was no wrong number. "Who are you?"
"Juan Cabanelos. You look for me, si ?"
"Yes! Where are you?"
"Listen! I speak with you." His thick accent made him difficult to understand.
She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. "I'm listening."
"No! Not with phone. In person. No policia !"
"I am policia ."
"No. You Canadian. No policia from Cochobamba."
"All right. What do you want?"
"I tell you in person. You know where Cardon Plata is?" His excited voice cracked as he coughed and wheezed.
Dawna set the phone away from her ear. "No. Is it a restaurant?"
"No! A village. Um," He paused, as if struggling with his English. Dawna strained to hear the background noises, but there weren't any. Fine time for the city to fall silent. "West of Oruro, near the border of Chile. Go to the Iglesia de la Merced . No policia , understand?"
She wasn't sure she did, but surely someone in the embassy would know this village, Cardon Plata, and the embassy had maps of the country. "All right. But how do I know you don't want to kill me?"
He laughed. The harsh sound started another coughing fit. "I fight with rifle for many years. If I want you dead, I kill you yesterday. I need speak with you. Important information for you."
Bad vocabulary aside, Dawna got his point. True, he could have killed both her and Tay, but had shot around them instead. Or was it that he had bad aim? She wasn't sure and wasn't comforted by the thought.
But he was suggesting he had important information, something that could no doubt affect the security of the embassy. "When should I meet you?"
"Six tonight. At the church." He hung up.
Dawna looked at the called display, but it said only 'private number'. She replaced the receiver and scribbled the information on a paper she kept by her phone, surprising herself that she'd actually agreed to Cabanelos' demands. She'd been a military policewoman for eighteen years and not once had a suspect called her up to request an interview. But with Cabanelos having skipped out of his apartment, they could use the break, no matter where it came from.
One thing was certain, she decided, throwing back her sheets. She wasn't going to meet him alone.
She should really take someone trustworthy like Ramos, but she had the embassy to think of first and foremost. He was needed there, especially if this was some trick to lure her and other vigilantes away.
Tay. They were both fish out of water here, but at least Tay was as well-trained as she was. According to the introductory spiel he'd rattled off the first day of her course, he'd worked for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for ten years as an undercover and security officer, before the military recruited him to train MP's for embassy postings.
She could call the policia , and they would go up to Cardon Plata, but Cabanelos would see them coming and pick them off
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