The Romanov Ransom

73

Rolfe, still jet-lagged, poured the last bit of coffee from the carafe into his mug before returning his attention to the map that Leopold was looking over. They were holed up in a suite of a downtown Buenos Aires hotel, the remnants of their room service breakfast on the cart waiting to be picked up. “And why is it we think they’d be contacting this Dietrich person?”

“He’s the last-known relative of Ludwig Strassmair.”

“All well and good,” Rolfe said, “but my understanding was that Strassmair, being a Nazi, was estranged from his sister’s family. Why on earth would he have entrusted the treasure to one of them?”

“He wouldn’t have. But the possibility exists that he contacted his sister’s family when he arrived. They might know something about his last days in Buenos Aires.”

“You’re assuming they even spoke.”

“Hoping. Something we won’t know unless we find Dietrich.”

“And what are the odds of that?” Rolfe asked, examining the area Leopold had circled. “Even with the number of Guardsmen you say are here, that’s a lot of land to cover.”

“Except a lot of that land is controlled by the Guard. Advantage, ours.”

“Controlled, how?”

“They run arms and drugs for support. Trust me when I tell you no one is moving across that land without them knowing about it.”

“You’re sure?”

Leopold looked up at him. “I have no reason to question their authority and competence. Their training is my training.”

“Then how is it that Dietrich managed to stay off their radar?”

“I said they controlled the land down here,” he said, tapping the map. “Dietrich is reported to be living and working outside their control. At the moment, anyone looking for him will be heading through Guard territory.”

“And the man they picked up last night? Have they determined whether or not he’s searching for Dietrich?”

“No,” Leopold said, when his cell phone lit up from an incoming call. “They were under orders to wait until we arrived at their compound. The less people who know about our true purpose here, the better.”

“At last, we agree on something,” Rolfe said as Leopold picked up his phone from the table.

He looked at the number, then answered. “Yes…?” His pale eyes narrowed as he listened to whatever was being said. He answered in Spanish, a language Rolfe didn’t understand. The man ended the call, almost slamming the phone down on the table.

“What’s wrong?” Rolfe asked.

“The man they picked up escaped.”

“How?”

“He had help, obviously. Five of their men are dead. The sixth barely made it out alive.” Leopold drummed his fingers on the tabletop, upset by the turn of events.

As well he should be, Rolfe thought. Apparently, the Guard wasn’t as infallible as they’d have everyone believe. “One man against six? What was it you were saying about anyone traveling in Guard territory?”

“He told them he was alone, a student. Clearly, they believed him or they wouldn’t have let their guard down. It’s possible he was exactly that.”

“You’re deluding yourself. Someone who happens to be studying in the very area we need to travel escapes, kills five Guardsmen? It has the Fargos written all over it.”

“You may be right.”

“May be? They’ve been one step ahead of us on everything. Which needs to change. I’m not paying you all this money to let them get to the treasure first.”

Leopold pulled the map closer. “The survivor said the man they captured was heading north. There are villages here and here… That’s where I’m going.”

“You’re going?”

Leopold folded the map, putting it into his pocket. “You’re certainly welcome to come. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay here and trust that if I find Dietrich before the Fargos do, I’ll pass that information to you.”

“Trust?” Rolfe said. “I want to know what you plan to do about the Fargos?”

“I’ve already dealt with that. The entire compound is aware they may be in the area. They’re starting the search for them as we speak.”

“And Dietrich?”

“They’ll be looking for him as well. The good news is, thanks to the Fargos and their intervention in this kidnapping, we have a promising lead on where Dietrich might be. If the Fargos make contact, the Guard will be ready. They won’t last long.”

“Good. When do we leave?”

“Within the hour.”