Page 23

Oz strolled down a sidewalk on the edge of town and counted his blessings.

After checking into their room and buying lunch at the inn, Ayla had gotten sleepy enough to agree to take a nap while he searched for her sister.

She even promised to remain inside. That had taken a little more convincing, but he swung that with the suggestion that she could question Senora Alvarez more thoroughly about Iona’s stay.

There probably wasn’t much more to be learned, but Oz sure as fuck wasn’t going to point that out. Not when it kept his Pollita out of trouble and out of sight.

A woman up ahead saw him coming, gathered her children, and went indoors. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that, no matter how many times he went undercover as a mercenary. At least he wasn’t working for Vargas anymore. Not that it made a difference.

The street had a mix of one and two-story houses.

Some were adobe, others cinderblock. Some had thatched roofs, others were made of shingles or tin.

Most of the tin roofs were heavily rusted and in need of replacement, but San Isidro wasn’t a wealthy town.

From what he heard, things had been better before the civil war.

It was almost hard to believe, except that the yards, bushes, and trees remained meticulously maintained.

The residents cared about their town.

A man gave him a side-eyed look as he swept the sidewalk in front of his house.

If Ayla was with him, they’d be arguing by now.

She wouldn’t like how he was handling the search.

She would expect him to talk to person after person, asking questions about her twin.

That was a great way to endanger both women.

Oz didn’t want to imagine trying to explain this to her.

His plan accomplished the same thing with a hell of a lot less risk to Ayla and Iona.

He found Senor Alvarez, Senor Garcia, and Senor Otero in a secluded clearing.

It was a park-like oasis he imagined few people took advantage of.

That didn’t stop the three old men from maintaining it.

There was a wheelbarrow filled with trimmings and lying atop was a hedge clipper, a rake, and a shovel.

They’d finished their work for the day and were sitting on two benches shaded by trees. Nearby were flowering bushes, and in the distance, Oz heard birdsong. The men looked tired but satisfied and all three of them sipped at flasks of water.

They stopped talking when they saw him and waited.

If they didn’t know he was Special Forces, Oz might have been uneasy about approaching them uninvited.

These three gentlemen were adamant about keeping the criminal elements out of San Isidro.

So far, they were successful, but two were in their seventies and the other was in his eighties. How much longer could they manage?

“Senor Alvarez, Senor Otero, Senor Garcia,” Oz said, greeting each one in turn with a small incline of his head. There was nothing that happened in San Isidro and the surrounding area that these men didn’t know about. They were the safest conduit for any information about Iona Desmond.

“I did not expect to see you here again, not so quickly,” Senor Alvarez said in Spanish. “From all accounts, Vargas was furious at your incompetence.”

His so-called incompetence had gotten Lurch and his woman out of the drug lord’s compound without getting killed.

It had cost him his job, and his team their eyes and ears on Vargas, but the captain considered that a small price to pay for the safety of two people, one a civilian and the other the linchpin in the team’s mission to stop arms dealer Jorge Torres.

Oz shrugged. “I didn’t expect to be back this quickly either, but circumstances changed.”

“What circumstances?” Senor Otero asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

“My wife arrived in Puerto Jardin to look for her sister.”

“Your wife?” Now Senor Alvarez sounded skeptical, too.

“She wasn’t aware I was down here. It was sheer dumb luck I found her before she could get into trouble.” That was putting it mildly. “Her sister disappeared, probably in Trujillo, but she visited San Isidro.”

Senor Alvarez’s expression changed. “A blonde woman? About thirty?”

“Iona Desmond,” Oz confirmed with a nod. “She works for the Paladin League. She was sent to Puerto Jardin to do a magazine article about the ruins near here. What can you tell me about her visit?”

The men exchanged glances, and then Senor Alvarez asked, “Your commander knows your wife is here?”

“He knows she’s here. The only thing saving my rear end is that he thinks her sister might have information that will help our operation.

” Oz was weaving fact and fiction using all the skills he had.

If these men figured out he wasn’t telling them the full truth, they’d toast his ass, no doubt about it.

Senor Alvarez studied him for a long moment and then gestured to the open seat on the bench next to Senor Otero. Oz sat as ordered.

“Senorita Desmond arrived mid-morning exactly one week ago. She checked in and then came downstairs to ask questions about the ruins. The archaeologists who worked there before the war began used to stay at the inn and we passed along what we could remember.”

From what Ayla said about her sister, Oz guessed what happened next. “And then she went to the ruins.”

It surprised him when Alvarez shook his head. “No, she asked if there was anyone else in town who would know more about the Huarona civilization.”

“That’s when she came to speak with me,” Senor Garcia offered.

He was the oldest of the three men, and Oz suspected he was closer to ninety than eighty.

What he had left of his hair was completely white and his skin was heavily wrinkled, but his brown eyes held a twinkle that made him seem younger than his years.

“We had lunch together. She is a charming young lady. You said she’s in trouble? ”

“It looks that way, Senor Garcia. No one has seen or heard from her since Wednesday. Not that I’ve been able to locate, anyway. Was she interested in anything beyond the ruins?”

Senor Garcia shook his head. So did Senor Alvarez.

“Did she visit the site?” Oz asked.

“Sí,” Senor Alvarez said. “Tuesday morning. I did point out what happened when Senorita Templeton went there alone, but she wasn’t deterred.”

Given what Ayla had told him about her sister, Oz wasn’t surprised.

“With the time it would take her to hike in and out, she spent perhaps two or two and a half hours there before returning to the inn,” Alvarez continued. He frowned and then shook his head.

“What?” Oz asked.

The old man hesitated before he said, “Her questions about the ruins didn’t make sense.”

“Why not?”

“Because Zofia works for the Paladin League.”

Zo was married to Stony, a former teammate and one of his buddies. A few weeks ago, Oz had visited the inn and used his name to get a room.

“Did Iona mention Zo?”

“No, and that’s what makes it so curious.

When Zofia was a child, she came to the ruins with her parents.

They were the archaeologists in charge of the site.

Why didn’t Senorita Desmond simply interview her?

She knows more than anyone in town about the Huarona people.

” Alvarez’s frown deepened. “If she couldn’t be quoted for an article because of her ties to the foundation, surely her parents could have been.

Why didn’t Senorita Desmond interview them? ”

Because the ruins were a cover for her actual job—identifying Fuentes—but even though Oz trusted the old men, he wouldn’t reveal that piece of intel. It might put them in the line of fire. “There seem to be a lot of questions about Iona’s disappearance.”

“Sí.” The three old men exchanged glances again before Alvarez nodded and added, “We’re accustomed to a level of craziness with Vargas nearby.

His war with another drug lord has increased the hostility in the area.

Something more is simmering now, however, and whatever it is, it has the potential to cause tensions to boil over. Perhaps without warning.”

Ayla stretched, sat up, and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Immediately, she regretted it as her stomach rolled over and churned. This morning, Oz had brought her toast in bed, and she’d avoided feeling anything except a vague sense of queasiness. No such luck waking up from her nap.

She tried lying back down, but it didn’t do any good. Her stomach continued to roil. It wasn’t as if she could just lounge in the room. She needed to pee, and there was one communal bathroom for the entire floor.

After putting her wig back on, she went down the hall.

Even though Senora Alvarez told her no one else was staying at the inn, Ayla hung the occupied sign on the outside doorknob.

When she was finished washing and drying her hands, she took a moment to check herself out in the mirror.

The makeup looked fine, but the wig sat too far forward, and she adjusted it.

Squaring her shoulders, she went downstairs.

The dining room was empty. There was one large rectangular table, a scattering of square ones, but most were round with four wooden chairs around them.

Almost directly in front of her was a boomerang-shaped bar with sticks of bamboo decorating its front.

Stools that appeared to be hand-carved lined the front of it.

A swinging door was on the left side of the bar. It was the one the older woman had used earlier when Ayla and Oz had arrived. Reluctantly, she pushed it open and found herself in a large kitchen. Senora Alvarez worked at the stove.

Whatever she was cooking probably smelled good. To someone else. Ayla’s stomach heaved, and she swallowed hard.