Bay of Souls

20

WHEN WHAT HAD BEEN the pilot was decently encased and removed to the Mennonite Hospital, Vice Consul Wallace led everyone back to the hotel. He was eager to get in touch with Colonel Junot of the new National Defense Forces.

"There is going to be a police investigation," he explained to everyone. "We'd appreciate it if folks would make themselves available to the authorities."

The consul, Scofield, seemed mainly interested in his ride back to the capital.

"Where's Colonel Junot?" Michael asked Liz McKie. From the inshore patio of the hotel, he had just caught sight of the young man Lara had sent him in the morning.

"I have no idea," she said. "Contrary to what everybody thinks, Colonel Junot and I are not joined at the hip."

Michael stood up. The consul and vice consul, who appeared to have little to say to each other, were observing him from another table.

"I'm off," Michael said.

"What?" McKie said. "Where?"

"Maybe I'll get some sleep."

The American consul came over and greeted Liz McKie facetiously. She treated him in the same spirit.

"I'm sure you'll want to get back to the capital by daylight, Consul. Better see that the police give you an escort.

"Since the coup," she explained to Michael, "there are burning roadblocks. They call 'em 'Père Lebrun,' and they're what 'necklaces' are in South Africa. You can ask old Van Dreele. Some of the locals aren't too impressed by diplomatic plates. Some of them don't care for the good old Stars and Stripes."

"I was going to ask you about that," the consul said. "I thought you might have seen Colonel Junot."

McKie sighed. Shortly a car was provided for the consul.

"Are you a friend of Lara Purcell?" he asked Michael as he left.

"Yes," Michael said, without much thinking about it.

"Give her my very best," Consul Scofield said. "Tell her she's missed. She's the most fascinating person on the island."

"I'll tell her."

On the way upstairs, Michael signaled to the boy from the lodge that he was coming, and went into his room. Before he could slide the lock, McKie pushed her way in and was standing next to him.

"Oh my God," she said, "you're going after her."

He began wearily to deny it.

"Bullshit. You went down to the plane. Did you get everything?" She had no need of an answer. "That chip — that's from her, right? You're going back to her."

Michael began to throw a few things in his shoulder bag.

"You don't get it, do you, Professor? These Colombian militia types are without mercy. They kill everyone. Do you think they'll clear out of here and let you live? Do you think that smart bitch will give you a break? Even if they let her live?"

"I don't know about the Colombians. They're buying the hotel. Maybe they'll see reason."

She stood in the doorway and put a hand against the door to block his way.

"Reason!" She screamed the foolish word at him. "Why can you not see the deep shit you're in? Wallace will get you. He'll work you into an indictment of this whole business."

"You've told me about the stick," Michael said, zipping the bag. "Tell me about the carrot."

She seemed to calm down a little.

"The carrot, Michael? The carrot is you give everything you have about this operation and its political connections. Not to mention its academic connections. I get you off this rock. We get you lawyers. We get you immunity." She paused, out of offers, trying to think of treasures untold beyond immunity. "Didn't you see that pilot?" she asked. "Don't you think death is kind of ugly?"

"What are you, Liz, a philosopher?"

She stepped aside.

"You're so nuts," she said. "My story is a public service."

Outside, the boy from the lodge was still waiting for him.