had departed, Trotsky would open the propane line—it would make for a fast, hot fire.
Angelina, a Mexican woman who had been tending the home for several months, was cleaning behind the movers. Even though Gaudet had spent little time here, his fastidious nature required a housekeeper.
"The team is coming together," said Trotsky. "You needn't worry. They'll be up to the job."
Gaudet's thin lips were pursed white in a rare display of emotion. "I am worried. We looked like asses in front of our investors." Gaudet closed his eyes as he forced the thought from his mind. "Let's review the video."
Trotsky turned on the TV A huge auto parts store and fenced lot flashed on the screen.
"Sam's offices are in the back, behind the tall brick wall. There's cut glass on top of the wall and those signs you see are posting a warning. It's got tight security and it's no doubt a bomb-hardened structure." Trotsky glanced at the maid.
"She is fine," Gaudet said. "She barely speaks English, much less French."
"Sam is like any other man. He can be killed."
Gaudet did not reply. He stared at Trotsky until he shifted in his chair and turned to the movers.
"Shove off," Trotsky told the men, who hurried to leave with the last of the boxes.
From outside, Gaudet heard the big diesel engine of the transport truck. "Angelina"—Gaudet thought through his request in Spanish and did the best he could— "Puedes cortar esa Guayavay trerme la aqui, por favor? "
Saying nothing, the maid went to the corner of the kitchen and removed a guava from a burlap sack. Using the knife, she skillfully cut it up and brought it on a plate. "You may have one as well," Gaudet said.
"Gracias, no."
"I insist," Gaudet said.
Angelina shrugged, took a slice, and began eating as though she had had a secret desire. Trotsky ate as well. Gaudet picked up a slice and held it while he spoke in French. "So as long as Sam is alive, he is the single greatest threat to our plan." He stopped the videotape. "But I'm out of time at this moment. Bowden is all that matters now. Later this video will come in handy."
Trotsky walked over to the TV inserting a second video. Gaudet rose to pour two glasses of port while he watched Angelina out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly she swayed on her feet, grabbed the counter, then collapsed to the floor and began convulsing. Trotsky whirled and saw Gaudet still holding his slice of guava. Gaudet gave Trotsky a slight smile, enjoying his little joke. Trotsky looked uncertain, a little panicked.
Slowly Gaudet lifted the guava slice to his lips and took a robust bite. Trotsky's shoulders dropped and relief washed his face.
"It was only a catalyst in the guava," Gaudet told him. "I poisoned her earlier. For you and me, the catalyst is harmless. For Angelina, it will look like a heart attack. Nonetheless, make sure the fire burns hot."
Chapter 4
Cleverness in an evil man is like fire in the treetops.
—Tilok proverb
Her green eyes could have been taken directly from Mother Amazon.
Michael Bowden always felt Marita's presence before seeing the bronze of her skin catch the light. She appeared infrequently and always silently. Michael fancied her a creature of the forest, a shadow in the green, but knew there was more to her. She would reveal that aspect, or not, in her own time.
The informal alliance had been formed from the smallest subtleties over many days, though they had never been closer to one another than about twelve feet. On certain days she would come right to the railing of the large porch, though her favorite place seemed to be the giant ficus tree, where she'd perch among the vines that wrapped the limbs like braided rope. He had been preparing to draw a map for a book when he'd first noticed Marita on this hot, muggy afternoon. She had come much earlier than usual. From the expression on her face he knew
Angelina, a Mexican woman who had been tending the home for several months, was cleaning behind the movers. Even though Gaudet had spent little time here, his fastidious nature required a housekeeper.
"The team is coming together," said Trotsky. "You needn't worry. They'll be up to the job."
Gaudet's thin lips were pursed white in a rare display of emotion. "I am worried. We looked like asses in front of our investors." Gaudet closed his eyes as he forced the thought from his mind. "Let's review the video."
Trotsky turned on the TV A huge auto parts store and fenced lot flashed on the screen.
"Sam's offices are in the back, behind the tall brick wall. There's cut glass on top of the wall and those signs you see are posting a warning. It's got tight security and it's no doubt a bomb-hardened structure." Trotsky glanced at the maid.
"She is fine," Gaudet said. "She barely speaks English, much less French."
"Sam is like any other man. He can be killed."
Gaudet did not reply. He stared at Trotsky until he shifted in his chair and turned to the movers.
"Shove off," Trotsky told the men, who hurried to leave with the last of the boxes.
From outside, Gaudet heard the big diesel engine of the transport truck. "Angelina"—Gaudet thought through his request in Spanish and did the best he could— "Puedes cortar esa Guayavay trerme la aqui, por favor? "
Saying nothing, the maid went to the corner of the kitchen and removed a guava from a burlap sack. Using the knife, she skillfully cut it up and brought it on a plate. "You may have one as well," Gaudet said.
"Gracias, no."
"I insist," Gaudet said.
Angelina shrugged, took a slice, and began eating as though she had had a secret desire. Trotsky ate as well. Gaudet picked up a slice and held it while he spoke in French. "So as long as Sam is alive, he is the single greatest threat to our plan." He stopped the videotape. "But I'm out of time at this moment. Bowden is all that matters now. Later this video will come in handy."
Trotsky walked over to the TV inserting a second video. Gaudet rose to pour two glasses of port while he watched Angelina out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly she swayed on her feet, grabbed the counter, then collapsed to the floor and began convulsing. Trotsky whirled and saw Gaudet still holding his slice of guava. Gaudet gave Trotsky a slight smile, enjoying his little joke. Trotsky looked uncertain, a little panicked.
Slowly Gaudet lifted the guava slice to his lips and took a robust bite. Trotsky's shoulders dropped and relief washed his face.
"It was only a catalyst in the guava," Gaudet told him. "I poisoned her earlier. For you and me, the catalyst is harmless. For Angelina, it will look like a heart attack. Nonetheless, make sure the fire burns hot."
Chapter 4
Cleverness in an evil man is like fire in the treetops.
—Tilok proverb
Her green eyes could have been taken directly from Mother Amazon.
Michael Bowden always felt Marita's presence before seeing the bronze of her skin catch the light. She appeared infrequently and always silently. Michael fancied her a creature of the forest, a shadow in the green, but knew there was more to her. She would reveal that aspect, or not, in her own time.
The informal alliance had been formed from the smallest subtleties over many days, though they had never been closer to one another than about twelve feet. On certain days she would come right to the railing of the large porch, though her favorite place seemed to be the giant ficus tree, where she'd perch among the vines that wrapped the limbs like braided rope. He had been preparing to draw a map for a book when he'd first noticed Marita on this hot, muggy afternoon. She had come much earlier than usual. From the expression on her face he knew
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