Life Blood Part 46

ovulation drugs. Then, with my ovaries ripening, he'd lured me here using Sarah. He knew I'd come after her. Next he'd "arranged" with Alan Dupre to fly me here. Finally, a sedative, and he'd harvested 233 of my ova, which he now had out there in those incubators. . . .

But what about proof? To show the world. Morning sounds were building up outside, so I was less worried whether the two soldiers in the hallway were still asleep or not. Truthfully, I was so wired I no longer cared. I clicked on a printer and began zipping off the files of each woman he'd violated, all six.

Disgust flowed through me like a torrent. Heart of Darkness. "The horror, the horror." Alex G.o.ddard had used Sarah in the most unspeakable way possible, then tried to have her murdered. Probably he'd just turned her over to Colonel Ramos.

The same thing must have happened to those other women. All "disappeared" somewhere in Guatemala. But who would know?

One thing I knew. I was next. . . .

The printer was old and loud, but thankfully it was fast. Four minutes later I had what I'd need to nail the criminal. When I got out of here, somebody would have to believe me.

While I was stacking the printouts, I resolved to call the emba.s.sy right then, the hour be d.a.m.ned. I was sweating like a gazelle when the lion is closing in. Alex G.o.ddard had just performed primal, surgical rape on me, and now the Army was right outside. I had to get the emba.s.sy.

And that was when I realized I didn't have the number. But it had to be in a phone book somewhere.

A quick look around the office didn't turn up one. I considered ringing the Camino Real again, to ask them to look up the number, but then I had an inspired thought. Steve had said Alan Dupre's number was easy to remember because it promoted his business. What was it? I couldn't remember.

Then it came back: 4-MAYAN, the six-digit number they used in Guatemala City. Call the sleazebag and ask him who can get me out of here. He's supposed to know everybody.

Dawn was bringing more and more forest-morning songs through the thin slats of the windows. I walked over and pushed them open, running my fingers out into the air. It felt cool, the touch of freedom, and I thought for a moment about bursting through to escape. Just get Sarah now.

Instead, I walked back to the phone, clenching my fists, and dialed Alan Dupre's number, praying and hoping it was where he lived. Steve had called him late in the evening, so it probably was. I'd thought I never wanted to speak to him again, but now . . . G.o.d, let him be there.

The phone, however, just rang and rang and rang.

Come on. d.a.m.n.

It rang and rang some more. Then finally--

"Who the f.u.c.k is this? We don't open till nine."

The first sound of his voice brought a wave of relief, but then his c.o.c.ky att.i.tude made me livid all over again.

"It's Morgan James, you s.h.i.+t. Why did you leave me stranded up here?

You have no idea what--"

"Oh, you . . ." He paused for a cigarette cough. "You made me walk all the way downstairs just to bust my chops. What the--?"

"Talk to me, you p.r.i.c.k." I still intended to strangle him. "I need your help. You owe me. You have no idea what--"

"Hey, lady, you didn't possibly believe taking off in that f.u.c.king hurricane was my . . . Let's just say I was acting under duress. I all but didn't get back."

"Well, you can start making up for that right now by springing me the h.e.l.l out of here." So, somebody had put him up to it, just like I'd thought all along. But who? "I want you to look up the number for the American emba.s.sy. And tell me the name of somebody there who--"

"Jesus, you truly don't get the picture, do you?" He paused for another early-morning reefer hack.

"I 'get' that you--"

"Missy, it was a high official at that very establishment 'suggested' I fly you up there. Why the h.e.l.l else would I do it, for chrissake? You know I'm not a citizen of this fun house. Said party noted that if I didn't, he could make a few phone calls about my residency status, my pilot's license . . . Let's just say it was an offer I didn't see fit to take issue with."

"Oh, my G.o.d." I felt like a knife had just plunged into my back. "Was his name Barry Morton? Please tell me."

"Taking the Fifth on that one," he said coughing again. "But you've got primal instincts."

I heard a noise outside and sank lower in the chair. What was I going to do now?

"Listen, do you have any idea where Steve is? They're looking--"

"No s.h.i.+t, Madame Sherlock. I had a long, deeply uninspiring interrogation by a couple of upscale a.s.sholes who showed up here in an Army Jeep. They wanted to know where the f.u.c.k he was, when I'd supped with him last. Let me inform you, love, you got my old heartstrings buddy in some decided doo-doo."

"I feel guilty enough about that as is, so stop." In spite of all Alex G.o.ddard had done, I felt horrible about Steve, like a self-involved witch. "But do you know where he is now?"

"Haven't the foggiest f.u.c.king idea, never heard of the jerk. s.h.i.+t, hang on." The line went silent, and I could feel my pulse pounding.

Outside the office door, I heard footsteps approaching down the hall.

Please, G.o.d, please. But then they pa.s.sed by, terminating where the two soldiers had been dozing. Next I heard the tones of a solid dressing-down in profane Spanish.

"_Tu heres un pedaso de mierda!"_

Then came a familiar voice from the receiver. I couldn't believe it.

"Morgy, why in h.e.l.l did you let Alan take you up there by yourself?"

His tone had a sadness, and a deserved pique, that cut me to the core.

I think I stopped breathing.

"Oh, baby, thank G.o.d you're . . ." I was expecting the door to burst open any moment. Men with AK-47's. "Do you know the Army's looking for--?"

"You're completely nuts. I got halfway to Belize and called the motel to see how you were doing, and they told me you'd taken off with this a.s.shole. So I turned around and drove back here. It was after midnight and the Army thugs had just left. Morgy, I'm coming to get you. Soon as the gas stations open. I know a back road to Mexico. We've got to get out of this f.u.c.king country immediately."

"Don't try to drive up. It's too dangerous. Can you get Alan to fly you? Sarah's here and she's been turned into a s.p.a.ce cadet. I don't know how I'm going to pry her away." I stopped to try to a.s.semble my thoughts. "He's got soldiers watching me. I've got to smuggle her out somehow."

I couldn't bring myself to tell him what was really going on.

"Let me talk to Dupre a second. The f.u.c.ker. I can't believe he did this to you. But maybe we can come up with something. Otherwise, I may just kill him with my bare hands."

I heard a cough, which told me Alan had been listening in on an extension. It teed me off, but then--he did have to be in on this.

s.h.i.+t. The idea of relying on Alan Dupre for anything . . .

"Well, do it fast. I broke into Alex G.o.ddard's office to use this phone and . . . just hurry."

"You got it."

Now the sound of firm, officer-like boot steps stormed past the door, headed out this time, after which the two young soldiers began berating each other in high-pitched Spanish.

"_Hace falta tener cojones!_"

"_Hijo de tu chingada madre!_"