“From here… maybe two and a half hours, depending on traffic.”
“Harv, we should try to get some rack time.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
They all saw and heard it at the same time.
A Nicaraguan National Police pickup turned right at the center of town and drove straight toward them.
CHAPTER 15
“Everyone stay calm,” Nathan said. “Estefan, be ready to punch it. We aren’t being taken into custody. If we have to bolt, we’ll head back toward alpha and try to lose him on the far side of town through those S turns.” Nathan began formulating a plan. If they had to evade the cop, they’d need to disable his vehicle without injuring him.
The NNP pickup’s front end lifted as it accelerated down the narrow street. They all collectively held their breath as the pickup screamed past. Its driver didn’t even look at them.
“Damn it,” Harv said. “I really hate that feeling.”
“Let’s get going,” Nathan said. He looked behind and saw the cop make a left about a hundred yards farther down the road.
“No argument here,” Estefan said. He made a U-turn and drove back to the intersection.
“We’re all on edge,” Nathan said.
“We’ll be able to relax a little when we reach my house. We can pull into the garage. No one will see you guys. I’ll call my wife and ask her to head over to her sister’s and spend the day over there. She knows I get nervous when she’s alone for more than a few days.”
“Is your house somewhat secluded?” Nathan asked.
“It’s not extremely close to other houses. Most of the lots are about three acres. I’m in a semirural area at the top of a ridgeline overlooking Managua. It has a nice view of the city. Don’t worry. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
Nathan handed a banana to Harv. “Won’t it be… I don’t know… a little awkward? Asking your wife to leave for the day?”
“Not really. She’s been wanting to visit her sister for a few weeks. We just talked about it before I left to meet you guys. I’ll tell her I got delayed. She’ll be fine with it.”
“Sounds good. Nate and I could use showers and some serious rack time. That hump through the jungle took a toll on us.”
“Getting old?” Estefan asked.
“Just drive, amigo.”
When Estefan pulled into his garage and closed the door, Nathan felt a tremendous sense of relief at not having to worry about prying eyes any longer. It would be nice to unwind for a spell. All three of them needed hygiene and sleep — in that order. Neither he nor Harv had gotten more than six hours in the last two days. They couldn’t function indefinitely like this. Sooner or later, fatigue would win the battle and shut their brains down. Nathan had been through longer periods without sleep, but there was no reason to push it right now. As tempting as it was to dig into Tobias’s letters, it could wait. Estefan agreed and threw their MARPATs and underclothes into the washing machine. Since none of Estefan’s wardrobe would fit Nathan, he had to settle for a pair of Estefan’s tighty-whities, and the damned things were two sizes too small.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, Harv gave him an amused look.
“Don’t even think it.”
Harv feigned innocence. “What?”
Estefan’s expression registered shock, but he recovered quickly.
Nathan held up a hand. “If either of you say anything, you’ll die slowly.”
“What’s there to say?” Estefan said. “I think a couple of things speak for themselves. What do you think, Harv? Can he get a job downtown?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“I’m going to kill you guys.”
Estefan crossed his arms. “What are you going to do — dance us to death?”
“That would do the trick,” Harv said. “The man has no rhythm. It’s an ugly thing to watch.”
This was hopeless. Until the load of laundry was finished, Nathan would have to settle for looking like a male stripper. He issued a dismissive wave and left the room, heading for the kitchen. He knew anything he said could and would be used against him, so he chose to remain silent.
In the kitchen, he powered down a couple of pastries and chased them with a glass of milk and two mangoes. Feeling more composed, he found Harv in one of the spare bedrooms, stretched out on top of a beautiful quilt. If Estefan’s wife had made it, she was a skilled artist.
“I’ll be on the couch,” Nathan said.
“Don’t forget to warn Estefan about waking your ass up with a broom. I’m pretty sure he wants to keep all his teeth.”
“Cute, Harv. I can always count on you for moral support.”
“Sleep well, partner.”
“Yeah, right.”
Thankfully, his inner demons took the afternoon off. Sleep came in chunks, an hour or so at a time, but sleep was sleep, and Nathan took it.
Right on time, the cell’s alarm awoke him at 1700 hours.
He needed coffee; they were facing another long evening. He found Harv in the kitchen, standing at the counter next to the range-oven combo.
“How did you sleep?” Harv asked.
“Not too bad, thanks.”
“Your MARPATs are on the dining room table. I’ve been thinking about something.”
“What’s that?” Nathan asked.
“When you got out of the shower, you could’ve gone commando in your cargo shorts.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Nathan lowered his voice. “I think Estefan’s more torn up about his father than he’s leading on. I figured I’d lighten the mood.”
“That was quite selfless of you, but it doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been a giving person.”
“You too, Harv. Let’s go sort through those letters.”
“We still need to retrieve the aerials and topo maps and look into the public records on Macanas. Like Estefan said, if we find Macanas, we’ll find Raven.”
“Estefan’s already got them.” Harv handed him a cup of coffee.
“I didn’t hear him leave.”
“We pushed his truck out of the garage. We didn’t want to wake you. He parked it on the curb when he got back.”
“What about an address for Macanas from the public property records?”
“Estefan told me how it works. It’s not that easy to get down here. Well, it kind of is, but there’s no centralized database in Managua. Each city has its own cadastral office with survey records of the land. Nicaragua’s a small country. He said if he went into the Jinotega office and pointed to Macanas’s property on a big map, it’s a safe bet the staff will already know the book and page numbers. He said he works with the various cadastral offices to determine ownership on land bordering the forest preserves all the time. He uses the information to contact the owners about pending road improvements through their property.”
Estefan entered the kitchen. “What’re you guys talking about?”
Nathan said, “Getting a home address on Macanas.”
“Yeah, that might not be easy,” Estefan said. “He’s likely hidden his personal information by using shell companies as the owners of record. And those companies might be owned by second-tier shell companies. He’s probably got attorneys on retainer who handle all the real estate paperwork for him. If that’s the case, all inquests about ownership would have to funnel through his attorney’s office. Macanas would then know someone was snooping into his property, and he’d want to know who and why.”
“We definitely don’t want that. Do you think it’s worth a try? I mean, looking at the survey records?” Harv asked. “Do you have to sign a logbook or anything to look at the books?”
“No, but the cadastral office staff is often bored to tears. They’d be looking over my shoulder the whole time. I’ve been in the Jinotega office many times. We could hire an attorney to dig into Macanas’s land-ownership holdings, but it would take time and be really expensive.”