Payback

63

Considering that her bed was under a rats’ nest, Lia slept comparatively well, waking only when Fernandez knocked on her door. She dressed quickly — all she needed were her shoes — and got an update from Farlekas in the Art Room, which told her that the nuke was a phony and that the Peruvians did not yet seem to realize that.

“What’s this mean for me?” she asked.

“That you continue as assigned. Fly up to Nevas and do the swap.”

“Fine. What about Charlie?”

“Dean and Tommy are on their way to Iquitos,” said the Art Room supervisor. “They may meet you there.”

“May?”

“Things are still up in the air right now, Lia. I’ll let you know what’s going on the second I know. I promise.”

Fernandez was waiting downstairs in the small breakfast room. There were two other tables of guests, and they were listening intently as a radio at the side of the room proclaimed the latest on the plot by the “notorious and desperate enemies of the Peruvian people” to destroy the country’s capital. The hero of the moment was a general named Atahualpa Túcume, who had fought valiantly against the Ecuadorian bandits and was now engaged in a battle to the end against the guerrillas. A small snippet was presented from an interview with the general. He declared that “luck and the grace of our ancestors” had allowed the army to foil the terrible plot to destroy the nation and Lima.

A commentator followed, giving some biographical information about Túcume. “He is not well known in the coastal areas of our country, but should be,” said the man. “He believes he is descended from the Inca aristocracy….”

Fernandez hunched over the table, his face pale and his eyes bloodshot from all the alcohol he had consumed the evening before. Clearly, he had had his last taste of aguardiente for a while.

“Can you deal with the helicopter?” Lia asked him.

“I’ll survive. Let’s get going.”