Till Death Us Do Part. Rebecca York
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told you,” she whispered. “It’s dangerous to go there.”
“They’re not after you.” Jed reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She ducked away from his grasp and ran toward the bedroom wing of the house.
She had the right idea, Jed thought as he watched her disappear into the safety of the interior. He should probably blast out of here, too, while the blasting was good. He knew how Miguel Sanchez treated spies and how his twisted logic could quickly turn a friend into an enemy.
He glanced toward the lighted windows of the reception hall, wondering if anyone else had heard the guards. The guests were all drinking and eating and talking as before. Apparently the mariachi music had drowned out the sounds from the patio. Or perhaps no one chose to acknowledge the disturbance.
He was on his own. And so was Marissa.
His chest tightened as he strode rapidly after the soldiers.
One of them was standing at attention in front of the door of the office wing. Too bad it wasn’t a man he’d helped train.
“Qué pasa?” he asked.
“This area is off-limits, señor.”
“I’m Jed Prentiss, a good friend of General Sanchez.”
The guard shifted the machine gun in his grasp, as if he were unsure about aiming the gun at a good friend of El Jefe. Yet he obviously had his orders. “You’d better go back to the party.”
Jed stood his ground.
The sentry, who’d probably never had his authority questioned before, looked uncomfortable.
The stalemate lasted less than a minute until the rest of the armed contingent returned. The soldiers were escorting a man in civilian clothes who had a firm hold on a woman’s arm.
It was Marissa.
Until Jed actually saw her being frog-marched down the hall, he realized he’d been hoping against hope that some other crisis had prompted the summoning of the guards.
Her face was paper white. It went a shade paler when she spotted him with the sentry, and he knew in that instant that she was thinking he was the one who’d turned her in.
“What’s he doing here?” the civilian snapped.
“He says he’s a good friend of El Jefe, sir.”
“Go back where you belong,” the man in charge said in clipped tones.
All at once the perfumed air of the tropical night was suffocating. This wasn’t the good old U.S. of A. where you were presumed innocent until proven guilty. This was the sovereign republic of San Marcos where a two-bit official could slap you in jail and throw away the key on the word of an underworld informant.
Hands resting easily at his sides, Jed summoned up his most guiltless look. “My name’s Jed Prentiss. I helped the general set up his training program at Conquista Fuerte.”
“So you say.”
“You can check it out easily enough.” Jed risked shifting his gaze from the man to Marissa. Her body was rigid, her breath shallow. He suspected that if she unstiffened her knees, she’d topple to the ground. His green eyes locked with her blue ones, and he saw how hard she was struggling not to fall apart. He could feel her terror. It cut through his vital organs like a machete blade. And he knew that until a few moments ago she hadn’t dreamed how much trouble she could get into in the nominally democratic republic of San Marcos.
He wanted to tell her she’d been a damn fool to raid the office of a general who wielded power with the zeal of a medieval king. At the same time he wanted to wrest her from her captor, fold her into his arms and spirit her out of danger like the hero of an action-adventure film. It was an exceedingly fleeting fantasy. Even with the element of surprise, all he’d get for the grand gesture was a bullet in the back.
“If she’s a spy, I’m a Saudi Arabian sheikh,” he said. “I was talking to her a few minutes ago at the party. She’s a scared-stiff travel agent who wandered into the wrong part of the house.”
“Perhaps.” The undercover man didn’t sound as if he gave the explanation much credence.
“Please. I didn’t do anything. Please let me go,” Marissa implored.
Jed’s mind scrambled for any sort of leverage he could use. If he claimed Marissa was a friend of his, he’d probably get himself detained for questioning. But maybe he still had enough influence with Sanchez to save her. “Let me speak to the general.”
“He’s in a meeting.”
“I’ll wait.”
“No. You will stop poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“The general will want—”
“I will arrest you along with this female spy if you’re not out of here in five seconds.”
Marissa’s eyes were bleak. “You’d better leave,” she murmured to Jed.
“Silencio! You will not speak to each other.”
Jed hated to abandon her like this. But he’d run out of options. The only thing he could do was offer her a word of comfort. “Everything will be all right. I’ll tell the American embassy what’s happened.”
She acknowledged the help with the barest of nods, but her expression was starting to glaze over.
The man holding her arm jerked her sharply. She winced as he led her toward a door on the far side of the patio. The last view of her he had was of her rigid back and the blond curls he’d first spotted across the crowded reception.
* * *
AS THE GUARDS TROTTED Marissa away, one of the guests from the party pressed back into the foliage of the bird of paradise tree where he was standing. Eyes narrowed, he’d been watching the scene on the patio with acute interest.
He’d seen Prentiss slip out of the reception room minutes after Devereaux had also disappeared. And he’d made a silent bet with himself that the two events were no coincidence. It was gratifying to confirm that he was right. Also a bit unsettling.
Devereaux had told everybody who would listen that she was a travel agent. Prentiss was supposed to be on a fact-finding mission for the Global Bank. But it appeared the two of them had more compelling reasons to be in San Marcos. Also, it seemed they knew each other, although neither one had admitted as much. Probably they were working together. And it looked as if Devereaux had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.
His lips thinned. Had she discovered anything incriminating before they’d bagged her? He’d have to find out quickly. And make sure she didn’t get a chance to talk.
For several seconds he enjoyed watching Prentiss stand with his hands clenched at his sides. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing the bastard was sweating. But the man in the bushes didn’t let the pleasure show on his face.
Deep in thought, he left his hiding place and strode toward the mansion. He’d never met Prentiss, although he’d heard of him. He was a once-top agent who was now washed up in the intelligence business. The rumor was he’d lost his nerve. But he’d toughed it out just fine with Sanchez’s man.
Too bad. Prentiss and Devereaux were another problem he’d have to solve before he made any final decisions about Sanchez. But right now he’d better get in touch with his man in Junipero Province to make sure nothing out of the ordinary was happening out there.
* * *
JED STUDIED C ASSANDRA Devereaux, noting the strain etched into her profile. She looked so much like Marissa so much that it was painful.
“Would you tell the others what you told me?” she asked in a strangled voice.
It had been three days since Marissa