Carter laughed at the idea of the big chunky Cuban running 1500 meters in world-record time.
Munoz grinned back. "Hey, us big guys is all light on our feet, right? So I'm outta there, and I find me where I am — Belize! So it's back on schedule and I been tracking the clowns this far. I was staking out those buildings waiting for the next patrol so I could tail it, when you guys come in and shoot the fuckin' place up."
"And they'll be after us soon," Carter said, "if we don't get back to the arts center. If Rogan is mixed up in LT, they'd have us spotted."
"I hear you, man. You guys had better get on back. I'll hang in here and tail the patrols. If I can get word out from their HQ, I will. If not I'll be there waiting for you. Just whistle. You know how to whistle, right, Carter?"
"If I don't, I'll learn."
Again Chepe Munoz vanished back toward the shot-up buildings, and Carter faded into the night on a steady trot back to the Belize Center for the Arts.
Carter got back just before dawn, managed a scant two hours of sleep, got a shower, and was just working on a shave when Zachary knocked. The CIA man had brought them cups of coffee from his own stores. While Carter sipped, he filled Zachary in on the good news about Chepe Muñoz.
The shaggy-browed CIA man had a few things of his own to report. "Lots of signs of movement out there. Trucks, carryalls, troop transports."
"Were they going or coming?" Carter asked.
"We've got to assume they put the big guns out looking for the Japanese bankers."
Carter agreed. "This place, especially as the Center for the Arts, makes a great cover for all the activity, especially these festivals with people coming and going all the time. It looks like Rogan has sold his soul to keep this thing running, but I don't think he's necessarily one of the LT boys."
"It doesn't seem his style to be an active part of things." Zachary agreed. "But there is the matter of guilty knowledge."
Carter began assembling his things in a canvas bag. "The thing we have to look at carefully is our range of weapons. I have my Luger, a bit of ammo, and one put-together automatic. But I think we're going to need some heavy firepower."
Zachary shook his head. "I know what's coming. I'm not all that much better off. I have an AK-47, but I'm not overweight on ammo. I think we're going to have to assume it's out there and scrounge for it."
"We need some weaponry," Carter said. "If what we suspect is true, we need all the firepower we can get. It would also be good to have something for Chepe."
"Nothing like being forced into action," the CIA man said. "Let's go get some breakfast and tell Rogan we're on our way."
They both went to the cafeteria and had double orders of bacon and eggs, a sign to both that they were stoking for action and that the action was on its way.
Rogan did not like the fact that Carter and Zachary were heading back north, but he had what Zachary called a high-class problem. Even as they spoke, a bus filled with people arrived to participate in the festival. From the looks of them, they were mostly Americans. The gender balance went to women, many of whom were attractive middle-aged women, but some were much younger.
James Rogan was well aware of the new arrivals and he watched them, hopeful.
Sam Zachary picked up on the movement. "You must be at full capacity," he observed.
Rogan waved his hand. "We have a campground. We can handle even more."
"What about supplies?" Carter asked.
Rogan watched the Killmaster uneasily. "Were you ever a lawyer?"
Carter shook his head.
"You've got a way of asking questions that makes everything sound like an accusation."
"That makes it sound as if you've got something to be defensive about."
Rogan seemed to wince at that, but he decided to take the heat from Carter and allow the line of conversation to change. He continued to scan the new arrivals. "I wish you guys weren't taking off."
"We just came down here to broaden our horizons. It's time to move on." Carter extended his hand to Rogan who had no choice now but to take it, shake it, and, in so doing, let them off the hook.
"I sure wish you guys were staying," he said.
Carter and Zachary went to the car, did a quick security check on it, and judged it clean.
"You caught that he's expecting someone or something?" Carter said. "Someone with some money."
Another bus, smaller than the last, arrived at the front drive, discharging a number of men and women. Some appeared to have been at the arts center before. They got their luggage and moved purposefully to different parts of the campus, some to the area where Carter and Zachary were staying.
As the buses arrived, so did a six-wheel truck, filled with men in shiny new boots, olive drab trousers, and fatigue shirts. Carter pushed the point. "More of your guards?"
"I don't know what that is," Rogan said. "This is a big tract and we need security forces to keep our supplies intact. I have no idea what those guys want, but maybe some of the locals were trying to rip off some construction-grade lumber or maybe some of our canned food. They love canned food."
"I was thinking maybe they got a lead on those bombings," Carter said.
They left James Rogan standing nearby, watching the student arrivals and watching the handful of young soldiers, all of whom appeared to be in their teens, fanning out, trying to look friendly, but enjoying the uniforms and the drama of a search.
"You can be sure they're looking for those Japanese bankers. But I don't think Rogan's that far in on things. He thinks there's a courier bringing him money, but he doesn't know about the Japanese."
"I'm beginning to think that Rogan is not one of your all-time bright people."
They split off to attend to packing. As Carter neared his room, he became aware of a commotion heating up inside.
Pushing open the door, he saw Margo Huerta crouched in a fighting position. "You already had your chance," she said to someone in the room.
Wearing Levi's, an oversize cotton sweater, and Reebocks did nothing to hide the effect of Rachel Porat. Her eyes, locked on Margo Huerta, openly defied the larger woman. "You've returned at an interesting time, Carter," she said.
The Killmaster went directly to the small bureau where he kept his things. "I could say the same for you, Rachel."
He opened drawers and began tossing his things into a canvas bag while the two women continued to stare one another down.
"Look at her, Carter," Rachel said, her voice dripping venom. "Is that the kind of woman who appeals to you? Or do you prefer someone who knows what you like and is able to provide it?"
"Bitch." Margo hissed and lunged at Rachel.
Rachel was waiting, and took advantage of Margo's lunge and her greater size, bringing her to the ground in a neatly executed side roll.
"Look at the way the cow falls." Rachel taunted, springing toward Margo, grabbing a handful of her hair. Margo got a grip on Rachel's left ankle, tugging until she brought Rachel down on top of her. The fighting became serious now as the women began grunting with exertion.
Carter moved in between them. "I should let you two fight it out, but I don't have the time or patience. We're into something vital here and the last thing I need is you two wasting energy over some ego."
Each woman responded by trying to seem sober and considerate. Rachel began caressing his shoulder. It had an immediate effect on him. Margo Huerta smiled and touched his hand provocatively. Carter stood looking at the pair when the knock came at the door. Before he could respond, Zachary entered, ready and eager.