Perés got to his feet and came around his desk as Newman got up. “I would like you gone by this time tomorrow. I am sure the family will understand — those of them who care, that is.”
“What…?” Newman began.
“Goodbye, Senor Newman,” Perés said firmly.
Taking the elevator back down to the first floor, Newman was wondering what Perés had meant. If she will go? And he wondered why the man hadn’t pressed him about the Cargill and Louis Dreyfus business. Lost in thought, he did not notice the frank looks of animosity he elicited as he crossed the lobby and headed out the door, but he noticed his bodyguards falling in behind him and wished the hell they were someplace else right now. Even Duluth.
“Where to now, Mr. Newman?” Humphrey asked.
Newman looked up. “Home,” he said. “I mean, the Vance-Ehrhardt estate.”
It took an hour to drive back out to the estate, and Newman was lost in thought for the entire trip.
Perés was one of the most powerful men in the city of Buenos Aires, and among the most influential men in the federal government. “Buenos Aires and its surroundings belong to Reynaldo Perés,” he had heard one of Lydia’s uncles say. The Vance-Ehrhardt family was well known here. So what did Perés know about Lydia that Newman didn’t?
At the Vance-Ehrhardt access road, the car was met by half a dozen armed men, standing around two cars and a jeep.
“Do you know any of these people, Mr. Newman?” Evans asked as they approached.
Newman sat forward, looking out as they pulled up. One of them was Simon Vance-Ehrhardt, Lydia’s uncle. He had never seen the others.
“I know the one in the safari jacket. He’s a Vance-Ehrhardt.”
“I don’t like this, sir.”
“We’ll just see what they want,” Newman said. As he started to get out, Simon and two of the others, their rifles raised, came toward the car.
Newman’s bodyguards reached for their guns, but Newman held them back.
“Turn around and get the hell out of here,” Simon Vance-Ehrhardt snarled, stopping a few feet away.
“I’ve come for Lydia,” Newman said. He didn’t like the looks of this at all. Simon’s jaw was tight, and the cords stood out on his neck.
“Leave while you are still able!”
“Not without my wife, Simon.”
The man raised his rifle higher and flipped the safety off. Instantly, Evans and Humphrey had their weapons out, safeties off.
Simon laughed. “Two against six. Not very good odds.”
“No. So you will either kill me now, or let me see Lydia.”
“Bastard,” Simon hissed. “She is not here.”
“Where is she?” Newman demanded.
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“Into the city.”
“The office?”
Simon nodded.
Newman stared at him for several long seconds. “Whatever you think about me, Simon, you’re wrong. You are all dreadfully wrong. I wanted to beat Jorge at business, but not like this. I’ve come here to help.”
“I am rapidly losing what little control I possess, you gringo son of a whore. Leave now while you are still able.”
Newman shook his head in sadness. Ten years ago Simon had been one of his favorites.
“Where are my things?”
“Lydia had them sent to the Royale. You have a room there, for tonight.”
“Simon…”
“Go, Newman. Never come back. It is my last warning.”
Newman closed the car door, and his driver spun around on the road and headed back to the highway.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, I think you should go home. They don’t like Americans here as it is, and you especially.”
“I’ll release you from your contract and put you on a plane this evening.”
“No, sir, we couldn’t do that. But I’m telling you that we cannot guarantee your safety against these people. It’s their country. They’d have the protection of the police if it came to a shootout.”
“We’ll leave in the morning,” Newman said. “For now, take me to the Vance-Ehrhardt Building downtown.”
The Vance-Ehrhardt Building was just off the Plaza San Martin, the upper floors enjoying a panoramic view of the city to the south and west, and to the north and east the vast harbor and the Rio de la Plata.
No one stopped them as they took the elevator to the tenth floor. There, at the open door to her father’s office, Lydia was waiting, wearing a severely cut business suit. Half a dozen Vance-Ehrhardt executives were waiting in the reception area, and they all looked up, hard expressions in their eyes.
“In here Kenneth,” she said. “Your muscle can wait for you. We’ll just be a minute or two. I’m very busy at the moment.”
Newman’s heart flipped over. There was no warmth at all in the way she looked at him. He could have been a perfect stranger. He knew she was affected by the kidnapping of her parents, but he hadn’t expected this. Christ, everyone was blaming him.
“We’re leaving in the morning,” he said, entering the office with her.
Lydia closed the door, and Newman tried to draw her to him, but she brushed his hands away and sat down behind her father’s desk.
“That is a good idea, Kenneth,” she said. “I think Buenos Aires might be dangerous for you at this moment.”
“And for you,” Newman said, approaching the desk.
She looked up at him, her face devoid of any expression, and she shook her head. “I cannot leave,” she said. “I have a business to run here.”
“You’re my wife.”
“You are my competitor! Cargill, Louis Dreyfus, and now my parents. You have the most to gain in all this, Kenneth. You!”
“That doesn’t mean I engineered this, for Christ’s sake!”
“No, it doesn’t, but I’m sure if we talked to your pal Dybrovik, we might come a little closer to who did.”
Newman took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to block the heavy sadness that threatened to well up.
“The Russians would have no reason to do all this. They’d never get another grain contract.”
“Perhaps not, but perhaps Dybrovik is not working independently. Perhaps he’s being directed.”
“By whom? And to what end?”
“I honestly don’t know yet, Kenneth, but I intend finding out.”
“And then what?”
“And then I will stop whatever it is you and they are doing.”
“You can’t do this, Lydia. If you want, I’ll stay here and help.”
“You have your own business to run.”
“Together we can operate both.”
“A merger?”
Newman shook his head. “No. Paul can run my operation, and I can help you here until your parents are released.”
“Do you expect they will be released?”
“Yes. As soon as whatever ransom demand they make is met.”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” There was a glint of tears in her eyes. “You stupid, naive fool.”
“Understand what, Lydia?” Newman asked.
“Even if there is no connection between the kidnapping of my parents and the Cargill and Louis Dreyfus things, the Montoneros never return hostages. Never!”
“Then let me help find them quickly.”
“Get out of here. Go back to the States and take care of your own business. Leave me here. Don’t you see? I no longer want you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Get out of here!” Lydia screamed, jumping up. “Get out of here, you bastard! Get out!”
Newman stepped back, staggered by her intensity. The door behind him crashed open. Several of the Vance-Ehrhardt executives burst into the office, along with Newman’s two bodyguards.