"Sounds like our friends are trying to make a name for themselves and show what they can do," Carter mused.
"Show who?" Zachary said. "That's what we've got to find out."
"The world, I think." Carter took a sip of Zachary's coffee. "Instead of advertising in the Yellow Pages, our friends in LT are advertising in heavily populated cities of North America."
Twelve
They were sitting in Margo Huerta's apartment when Carter noticed the police car pull up outside.
It was a VW squareback. Hard to miss. He looked at his watch. "Alvarado," he said, "reminding us our time is up. Besides, I'm convinced the trail leads us to Belize. Samadhi seems interested in Rogan, and it looks to me like some cultural festival could be a great cover for something as large as LT. It sounds like an ideal way to get people in from all over the world without causing the slightest suspicion. I wouldn't be surprised to find Bezeidenhout down there. Even if we weren't under the gun from Alvarado, I'd want to be there."
"Sounds right on the money," Zachary said, "but technically we do have a few hours left and I'd like to track those people who got Chepe." He looked at Carter. "You mind?"
"No," Carter said. "I'll let Alvarado take me now. I'll go to Belize and start looking around for traces of LT. Meet you both there. In the beginning, it might be helpful if we pretend not to know each other."
"I can pick up a volunteer job down there," Margo said. "I can infiltrate the staff and see what that brings us."
Carter stood up, impatient. "I want to get on with this. Belize it is." He nodded to Zachary. "I'll buy you some time with Alvarado. See you down there." They arranged to meet either at Belize City or in Belmopan.
He walked down the stairway, strolled out onto the street, and approached the vehicle.
Alvarado pushed the door open for him. "Just one of you?" he paused. "Okay, fair enough. There are a few hours left and I can see where you might not have had time for all your business. But you're the big one and I'll settle for that as a starter." He looked at his watch. "Zachary has three hours and his ass is out of here."
He drove directly to the airport.
"Do I have to come in with you?"
Carter shook his head.
"In that case, I'll come as a friend." Alvarado handed Carter his weapons. "Here. You'll probably feel more comfortable with your own stuff."
Carter carefully fitted himself with Wilhelmina and Hugo. Pierre took more effort in the car, but Alvarado seemed patient, close to friendly.
"Keep in touch if you learn something," Alvarado said, handing Carter an envelope that contained Carter's passport and a photo of Piet Bezeidenhout. With that, he led Carter over to a money-changing counter. "Get rid of all your Mexican money here. The exchange from peso to Belize dollars always works against you. Besides, you're not going to need pesos anymore. Not for a long time."
As Carter started toward the boarding area, Alvarado moved alongside and conversationally produced a copy of the morning newspaper.
A major front-page story told of the death of Robert Silver, a noted diamond merchant and contributor to political causes.
Carter scanned the details. "I don't see the cause of death listed."
"The cause of death was blunt force trauma, dammit, and don't play with me. I know you were there last night, Carter. I even know you let him believe you were with the diamond cartel security force. That couldn't have anything to do with his death, could it?"
The Killmaster regarded him carefully. Alvarado would not have let him get this close to leaving Mexico if he had truly meant to detain him.
"At the moment, it's a matter of honor that I tell you nothing, Alvarado. But if more than two weeks pass and you have no information, it will be a matter of honor that I tell you what I know."
Alvarado smiled. "The lady's that strong, eh, Carter?"
There was nothing to hold Carter. He went to the boarding gate for the flight departing for Belize City, Belize.
The country of Belize is a small chunk of forest and swamp in the north, jungles and mountains in the south. The yearly rainfall in the south is nearly a hundred inches. As if to make up for this, the north is frequently pounded by hurricanes.
Despite the climate and terrain, the people who come here to stay are fiercely loyal to it. It is an easy, almost idyllic life-style along the coast, more entrepreneurial toward the more temperate central areas. As a culture, it is a healthily mixed bag.
Largely an agricultural country, Belize produces mahogany, fruits and vegetables, and chicle, an essential ingredient in chewing gum. Some of the best chicleros or chicle gatherers in the world are from Belize. Not a lot to recommend it, but don't expect disparaging remarks from the people who live there. Expect instead a kind of surprised, laid-back attitude that is often a cover-up for a strong work ethic.
The Guatemalans want it, claiming it was once theirs in the first place; the Belezians want it, claiming it has its own culture and habits; the British administer it, although not conspicuously, and like the idea of still having a place in that part of the world.
The ethnic mixture in Belize is striking, with a number of Caribbean peoples, indigenous Indians, colonials, Europeans, and North Americans.
The airport was surprisingly large. Someone was expecting lots of big planes to land. Perhaps it was the optimism of a small, underdeveloped country, and perhaps there was something else going on. A number of signs gave a sense of activity. One said the new capital city in Belmopan would soon be the most beautiful and sophisticated in Central America. Another welcomed people of artistry and imagination from all over the world to the Festival of the Arts at the Belize Center for the Arts. Yet another warned newcomers that now was the time to get their Belize auto insurance.
The climate was humid and oppressive. Taking a cab from the airport, Carter gave the driver a big tip and was given an orientation tour of the city. The driver, an agreeable and handsome Carib with a mahogany complexion, told Carter he'd lived in Belize City most of his life. His license and identity photo listed him as Julius Sortero.
"Except I done some time in Chicago, boss," Julius Sortero said. "I make big money and come back here and buy into dese here taxis. I got four working for me and two, three junker cars at me house for spare parts."
The driver went to a large movable bridge spanning a creek large enough to float a huge boat. "Dis called Swing Bridge, an' it the major place in town as you can see wid your own eyes. It go over Haulover Creek, make plenty room for boats and barges to pass through. Dis the closest thing we got to a monument." But Julius Sortero also pointed out the high contrast between the ramshackle, slapdash way of life along the coast and some of the more exotic and substantial buildings and homes, reminiscent of the British colonial influence, but also reflecting modem architecture. Colors of homes and buildings ranged from the durable whitewash to bright blues, subdued orange, and sophisticated grays.
In several areas in downtown Belize City, Carter saw signs announcing that the huge arts center in nearby Belmopan was having a Festival of the Arts. James Rogan's name was connected with it.
Carter was set to check in at the Fort George Hotel, but Julius took his role as guide seriously and took him over to Regent Street and stopped in front of the Hotel Mopan. "You might suspect I get a cut of the take if I bring you here, but I do dis out of my own conviction that you don' want no tourist trap."