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Ignoring him, she ran her fingers down his neck and across his collarbone, then pulled lazily at the small hairs on his chest. It all felt very nice, and it had been a while since he could say that. The seconds passed, and he could feel himself beginning to drift when she said, ‘There’s an old legend circulating about you, Korso. Or Jara, as you were called back then. You must know the one. It concerns somebody or something called the Nicaraguan. You’re familiar with this?’
He said nothing, just continued to let himself drift, hoping she’d get the hint. They had just five hours before the alarm call from reception at six, and he wanted to make the best use of that time by sleeping through it.
‘Except not really a legend,’ she said, not taking the hint at all, ‘just fragments and pieces, really, with very little consistency between them. I’ve not found one person who knows the whole thing, how much is true, or how much is exaggerated.’ She pulled one of the longer chest hairs, and kept pulling. ‘Are you listening?’
‘No. And stop that.’
She released him. ‘I believe Sardoca knows more about this Nicaraguan incident than most, but he refused to admit it when I pressed him. Now that I know his feelings toward you, I can understand why. Apparently, it happened almost ten years ago, which would be around the time you were with Mr Nikolic. All I know is it concerned a cabal of Bolivian ex-secret police members who threatened to take over some of Mr Nikolic’s more profitable business ventures. In the process, many of his employees ended up brutally tortured or murdered, or both. Much blood was spilled, and many properties and inventories destroyed. They say Jara was personally tasked by Mr Nikolic to end the problem once and for all, and that he did so on his own, without outside help. Except possibly this Nicaraguan, whoever he might be.’
Korso snorted. ‘Who’s they?’
‘Them.’
‘Ah, them,’ he said. ‘Continue. I like bedtime stories. They help me sleep.’
‘There’s little more to tell. Everything else is just rumour and unsubstantiated gossip. Some say Jara spent over a month researching the enemy, amassing information, and then picked off all seven ringleaders over the course of one night. Or that he infiltrated their organisation over many months and killed them all in one fell swoop. Others insist there were twelve Bolivians in all, and that Jara used this Nicaraguan in some manner to induce them to war amongst themselves until none was left standing. While others are certain these men weren’t Bolivians at all, but Brazilians, and that the Nicaraguan was actually the name of a fishing trawler delivering a huge shipment of cocaine to this group, and that Jara assassinated five of the seven ringleaders when they showed up at the docks to supervise the handover.’
‘Sounds like Jara was everywhere at once.’
‘Only if all four accounts are factual, which is clearly impossible. One of these versions must contain more truth than the others.’
‘Not necessarily. Maybe each account contains partial elements of truth.’
‘That does not help.’
‘It’s not meant to.’
Sighing, she began to slide her hand down past his navel. ‘That last account, for example, with the trawler and the cocaine and the five dead men. That one doesn’t stretch credibility so much. It likely contains some basis in fact.’
‘And the two missing Bolivians?’
‘Brazilians.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Brazilians.’
‘Which is the detail that adds credibility, as it makes you out to be less than superhuman for once. Maybe those remaining two men escaped with their lives, or maybe they were dealt with later. As it stands, just one more mystery.’ Her hand was still moving down there, which was producing fairly predictable results. ‘Which you could solve right now.’
‘Then it wouldn’t be a mystery anymore.’
‘Just tell me what happened, Korso.’
‘We just agreed the past is dead. What difference does it make what happened ten years ago?’
She brushed her lips across his chest. ‘It would satisfy my curiosity. When you brought up my scar, I told you the cause of it.’
‘You didn’t have to. If you’d ignored me, I wouldn’t have pressed you.’
‘But I didn’t ignore you. So what harm is there in clarifying matters for me in this instance?’
‘Not much, I guess.’
‘So?’
‘Let me ask you something first.’
‘Very well.’
‘That tin you’re after contains blood diamonds, am I right? Or maybe even the rarest of the rare, blue sapphires? Tell me the truth now.’
Her hand stopped moving and she breathed a sigh. ‘Why is it you still refuse to believe me? I’ve already told you I do not know what’s inside, any more than you do.’
‘Then we don’t really have anything further to discuss, do we?’
She used an elbow to raise herself partway up, and looked down at him. ‘Seriously? After everything we’ve shared, still you will not tell me?’
‘Quid pro quo, Natasha. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine. Fair’s fair.’
She raised a fist and punched the pillows on her side of the bed. ‘There’s a word for you in my language that I cannot bring myself to say. It’s too brutal and I don’t like to swear, but you are definitely the most… infuriating man I have ever met.’ She then moved the pillows and herself a foot away from him and lay down on her side, facing the window, breathing heavily.
Korso closed his eyes, happily letting his mind drift again. It had all worked itself out, after all. Finally, he could get some sleep.
Twenty-Eight
50 hours, 37 minutes and counting…
Korso was driving. He had been since they’d left the motel at 06:30 that morning. They were still in New Mexico, heading north on US-550, about thirty-five miles from the Colorado state border. The day was bright and sunny, with few clouds in the sky. Traffic was light. The next city on their route was a place called Bloomfield, and Korso planned to stop there for lunch, even if it was from a drive-thru. He was hungry, and had no doubt Natasha felt the same.
So far, it had been a long, uneventful journey. Not to mention a quiet one.
When the alarm call had awoken them both at six, Natasha had been first into the shower, taking her phone in with her. Korso had heard snippets of muted conversation in there as Natasha no doubt updated Sardoca on their current situation and progress. He had used the time to completely dismantle Cain’s burner phone until he was satisfied there were no tracking devices hidden inside. Since then Natasha had barely spoken at all, other than the occasional one-word answer to a direct question. Clearly, whatever goodwill he’d accumulated over the past day had evaporated with his refusal to explain himself.
This was fine with him. Silence was one of his favourite sounds. Korso could go whole weeks without uttering a word. But as far as their professional relationship went, this uneasy barrier between them promised nothing but trouble if it continued for much longer.
A road sign was coming up ahead, welcoming drivers to the City of Bloomfield, New Mexico. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha take note of the sign as they passed it.
‘We’ll grab some lunch here,’ he said, ‘if that’s okay with you. And even if it isn’t.’
She didn’t reply, just looked at the road straight ahead.
‘You know you’ll have to talk to me sooner or later, Natasha. And the longer you keep up this silent act, the stupider you’ll feel when you have to break it.’
She said nothing, just stared ahead.
‘Besides, I know why you’re mad. And it’s got nothing to do with my refusal to give you a history lesson last night.’
She turned her head, looked at him with hooded eyes.
Still watching the road, Korso saw various business establishments start appearing with more regularity as they entered the city’s outskirts. He said, ‘It’s because you can’t help liking me. And you hate yourself for it.’
He turned to her, and saw what appeared to be the beginnings of a suppressed smile at the corners of her mouth.
‘You know it’s true. Admit it, if only to yourself. You’ll feel much better.’
Natasha quickly turned her face to the side window, and he knew he’d won. After a while she faced front again, her expression as stern as before. The suppressed smile, if it had been there at all, was gone.
‘I admit nothing,’ she said. ‘You’re deluded.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘But I am feeling very hungry now. Where do you suggest?’
‘Well, we’ve probably still got a couple of hours to go before we hit Bilchner. But I still want to get there before three, so maybe we can get a take-out or something and eat while we drive.’ He turned to her. ‘That is, while you drive.’
She tilted her head at him, her brows arched. ‘Ah, you are tired? Oh, you poor thing. Why, of course I’ll drive. It’s the least I can do.’
Actually, the least she could do was what she had been doing for the last six hours. Nothing. But Korso knew better than to mention it now they were on speaking terms again. Instead, he pulled Cain’s phone from his jacket pocket and passed it to her.
‘You better turn that on now, see if Cain’s left us a message.’
She pressed the power button, and the usual Nokia start-up chime erupted from the speaker. ‘There is one text message. Anonymous, of course.’
‘Read it out.’
‘It says, Philby’s Pharmacy, Main Street. Rear entrance. Left you a sample tin in the dispensary. See you soon, exclamation mark. The text was sent at 09:34.’
‘Meaning he’s had plenty of time to prepare for our arrival, while we’ve had none. Anything else?’
‘Nothing. Just that one text.’
‘Okay, turn the phone off again.’
‘You do not want to send him a reply?’
‘Glad to see you’ve also got your sense of humour back.’ He pointed to a gas station up ahead, with another building just beyond it. ‘That looks like a KFC sign over there. I’m sure they do a drive-thru. You like chicken?’
‘Sure.’
Korso slowed the car as they approached the gas-station entrance. ‘If there’s one thing America does better than anyone else,’ he said, ‘it’s fried chicken.’
Following the sign for the drive-thru service, Korso ordered the eight-piece family meal with biscuits and large potato wedges and coleslaw sides, some iced tea and a bottle of sparkling mineral water.
Once they had their order, Korso steered them toward one of the empty parking slots facing out onto the highway and cut the engine. Natasha pulled the contents from the bag, and they each began to eat in silence.
Some time later, Korso was sipping some of his iced tea when he heard a double beep from Natasha’s side of the car. She put down her drumstick, wiped her hands with a napkin and pulled her phone from the side door pocket and checked the screen.
She turned to Korso. ‘A text from your friend. He is about to call me. A video call this time.’
‘You mean I have to look at his face again? I’ve only just eaten.’
Natasha smiled, but said nothing. A few seconds later, the phone began ringing. She pressed the video icon, and after a brief delay, Sardoca’s head and shoulders filled the screen. She positioned the phone so she and Korso were both in view. Sardoca was standing outside somewhere, wearing a black polo shirt. It looked like he was in a garden. Korso could see trees and neatly trimmed foliage in the background, but no other details.
‘Natasha,’ he said. ‘Update, please.’
‘We have just finished lunch and are on our way to the meet now.’
‘About time. So how’s my old comrade doing in the land of the not-so free? Natasha tells me things haven’t exactly gone as smoothly as we’d hoped.’
‘They never do,’ Korso said. ‘Still, we’ve made more progress in two days than you did in ten. What do you want, Sardoca? I was in a good mood before you called.’
‘Well, I’m about to make your day even worse, I’m sorry to say.’
‘Why do I get the feeling you’re not sorry at all?’
Sardoca gave a long sigh. ‘On any other day, I’d be milking this moment to the full, but it so happens I’m not enjoying this one little bit. Because in the situation we’re in right now, what affects you affects me, and vice versa. And I can tell you I’m not a happy individual. Not happy at all.’
The worst part was he seemed completely genuine, which wasn’t good. Korso looked at Natasha. She just shook her head, as nonplussed as he was.
‘Go on,’ Korso said. ‘Out with it.’
‘Okay. You’ve just lost a day from your schedule.’
Twenty-Nine
26 hours, 21 minutes and counting…
There was silence in the car. Natasha frowned at Korso while she mouthed the word, What?
‘Repeat that,’ Korso said. ‘I don’t think I heard you correctly.’
‘You heard me just fine. But just so there’s no doubt, I’ll spell it out for you. Before this call, you had approximately fifty hours left to recover what we commissioned you to find. Now that’s been cut by one full day to just twenty-six hours.’
Korso almost laughed out loud. It was the only possible response. ‘You’re actually serious. What, you figured the original deadline wasn’t unrealistic enough, is that it?’
‘Sardoca,’ Natasha said, ‘what’s going on? You told me nothing of this before.’
‘Hey, you think I was keeping it a secret from you? I only just found out myself. And before you even ask, Korso, that change comes straight from the top. You understand what I’m saying? Right from the very top. He’s getting impatient, and when he gets like that he starts pissing on those directly below him. And right now, that someone is me.’
Korso let out a long breath as he leaned his head back against the headrest. It was as though all this time he’d been trudging through quicksand, barely keeping his head above the surface as he gradually made his way toward solid ground and safety. Now something down below had grabbed hold of his ankle and was doing its best to pull him under.
He turned and saw Natasha watching him without expression.
‘Well?’ Sardoca said.
‘Be quiet,’ Korso said. ‘I’m thinking.’
What he was really doing was taking a moment to readjust his mindset. This wasn’t exactly a new experience for him. Especially in his line of work, where clients were generally unreliable at best, and at worst, verging on psychotic. He also knew better than to waste time arguing. When someone like Nikolic made a decision, it was always final. No second thoughts. No court of appeal. Simply do it or face the consequences. Which invariably meant death… or worse.
‘Tell me something. How was this news relayed to you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, did your employer give you these new instructions in person?’
Sardoca snorted. ‘You know as well as I do he never talks with his people one on one. Never has, never will. He relayed this to me over a highly encrypted video call, and even that’s rare for him. But I can tell you he looked about as grim as I’ve ever seen him look, and when he told me how seriously I should take this, I believed him.’
Sardoca was wrong about Nikolic not giving orders in person. Korso could vouch for that personally. But now probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up.
‘So that threat of exposure you’ve got hanging over my head,’ Korso said. ‘I assume this changes things in that regard. Such as, giving me a little leeway if I don’t make this new deadline to the second.’
Sardoca gave Korso his most annoying grin as he began walking, the picture moving up and down in time with his footsteps. ‘This changes nothing, my friend. Nothing. Trust me when I tell you I’ve already got an email composed and ready to go, with all those glorious hi-res photos of you attached. It’s very brief, but to the point. You go a single second over this new deadline and your former employer gets it in his inbox one second afterwards. If I can’t give him what he wants most, I’ll give him something else to take his attention off me. Something almost as good. And that’s you.’
This surprised Korso not one iota. But he’d had to make the effort.
‘And I’ll tell you something else, compadre. Just so you don’t get any funny ideas, there’s something else that differentiates that tin from the others. You know which tin I mean. That faint radioactive marker on the exterior is just the first identifier. The second is a serial number on the bottom. Easy to miss, but it’s there. Now I don’t have to physically have that tin in my hand at the appointed time, but I’ll be expecting Natasha to at least read me that serial number verbatim so that I know she’s got it. If she doesn’t, the email goes.’
Korso turned to Natasha. ‘What was that swear word you wanted to use yesterday? Now feels like a good time.’
‘Sardoca,’ Natasha said, purposely not looking at him, ‘can I speak freely?’
‘You always have.’ He sat down on a garden chair. The screen became still again. ‘Why stop now?’
‘I feel we’ve made very good progress,’ she said, ‘far better than I had thought possible when we first set out. Korso is doing his best under the circumstances, I can bear witness to this. And at no point has he even tried to run. Just the opposite, in fact. I believe we can succeed in our mission, but you—’
‘But nothing,’ Sardoca cut in. ‘You don’t know him like I do, Natasha. The only way he’ll fulfil his obligations is if he knows I’ve got him in my crosshairs, ready to squeeze the trigger at any moment. That’s just how it is, and how it’s always been, so don’t waste your breath trying to convince me otherwise.’
Natasha finally looked at Korso and gave him an apologetic shrug.
‘You always were a vindictive little thug, Sardoca,’ Korso said. ‘It’s almost comforting to know you haven’t improved with age.’
‘Ah, you’re just bitter about being outsmarted by your betters.’
