Dieter was very unhappy with the look of unabashed greed that suddenly blossomed in Garmendia's eyes. He imagined the smuggler already had two or three information brokers in mind to whom he could sell the word of a former Sector agent's association with the notorious Sarah Connor. He wished John had kept to their room—damage control on this was going to prove very hard to apply.
John watched Garmendia relax in the predator's role, his fat swarthy face smug with the power he thought he held over them. This was another reason he hadn't wanted to deal with smuggling. A lot of these underworld types were so incredibly, childishly petty.
"So many of your old friends would be amazed to hear of it," Lazaro continued
happily. His eyes glinted as he twisted the knife.
Dieter's face was impassive as he sipped his drink, but inside he was both worried and angry. Kids! he thought in frustration. They're too impatient and too unconcerned with consequences. He ought to have expected something like this; he'd trained enough youngsters, most of them not too many years older than John, to know how troublesome they could be.
John laughed heartily and Lazaro Garmendia looked almost fondly at him.
And why not? von Rossbach thought sourly. He can wring a lot of money out of this situation.
" Si, Senhor Garmendia," John said after a moment, smiling widely. "My friend's former employers would probably be stunned to hear of it." His face and voice grew hard and serious. "But of course they won't."
"And why is that, meninol" Garmendia asked with soft menace.
"Because my mother is here in spirit," John said. "And my mother knows many things." He waited a beat before leaning forward. "May I have a drink?"
The smuggler's complexion looked a bit yellower than it had a moment before, the way one does when going pale beneath a tan. His dark eyes had gone wary, and it was a frozen moment before he responded to John's request. He snapped his fingers and a well-built, well-dressed young man hurried over.
"Coke," John said, looking up at him.
The man looked confused and glanced at his boss, as if for confirmation of the order.
Garmendia hissed impatiently, "A soft drink, idiota!"
That thug looked so relieved John was sure he hadn't even heard the insult.
When John had his drink and the smuggler's guard had withdrawn, Garmendia looked at the younger man through ice-cold eyes.
"So what do you want?" he growled.
Wow, John thought. What the hell has Mom got on this guy? He knew some of the mobster's secrets, but obviously his mother knew more. And better ones.
"Only what I've already asked for," Dieter said, deciding to step back in. He'd grill John later. "Discretion and transportation."
Garmendia worked his mouth as though chewing and swallowing what he wanted to say. Finally he grated out, "You will pay for your own food?"
"Of course," Dieter said affably. As if I would eat or drink anything your people offered me after this. He wondered how Sarah had gotten the drop on this guy, and his heart warmed with admiration.
What a woman!
"I have no idea," John said as they bounced down a Bolivian back road on their way to Paraguay. "I doubt it's anything I already know." He glanced sidelong at his companion. "Or you do. Maybe he collects teddy bears cr something."
Dieter was silent for a moment, smiling at the thought of Garmendia cuddling a teddy, even though dust gritted between his teeth. They were well into the chaco, the dry scrub jungle that covered most of eastern Bolivia and western Paraguay.
The road was potholed red dirt that billowed up behind the truck, tasting dry and astringent. The odor was familiar from his time—brief time—of retirement on his estancia in Paraguay.
"Your mother is an amazing woman," he said quietly.
John smiled at the sound of longing in the big man's voice. If Mom could just have someone like Dieter, just for a while, he thought, it would make up for a lot.
He quickly buried the thought that it might keep her sane, then sheepishly dug it up again. His mother had trained him too well to ignore what might be an important consideration for emotional reasons. Von Rossbach would keep her grounded, and she couldn't have designed a better partner if she'd had the option.
Now all she has to do is survive, he told himself. After that it would be easy. She was smart, she'd see what was right in front of her. I'll make sure she does.
Inside he smiled wryly. Hey! My first campaign. After getting her free, of course.
VON ROSSBACH ESTANCIA, PARAGUAY
The taxi stopped, and hot metal pinged and clinked as it contracted. The ranch was hot, too, but a familiar grateful warmth, none of the humidity of the northern jungles. The gardens around the sprawling old adobe-and-tile manor were still colorful with jacaranda and frangipani, tall quebracho trees, and lawns kept green by lavish watering. Dieter felt a complex mix of instant nostalgia and
regret. He'd bought this property as a home for… well, perhaps not my old age.
Middle age. You didn't get old in his profession; you either died, or you retired.
Now he was back, but it probably wouldn't be for long. Unlike the Sector's campaigns, the one against Skynet would undoubtedly consume the rest of his life—however long that turned out to be.
Heads turned as he climbed out of the car, stretching. "Senor!" Marietta Ayala ran from the portal with her arms outstretched as though to embrace her towering boss.
Dieter's jaw dropped at this display of familiarity. It had taken him months to convince the stout, formidable cook to call him Dieter, rather than Don von Rossbach. Come to think of it, he never had convinced her.
Marietta stopped short a good three feet from him and began to shake an angry finger. "Where have you been all this time, senor? We have been worried sick!
No word, no idea where you were or when you'd be back. And Senora Krieger's house burned to the ground and she is missing, and you!" she exclaimed as John got out of the taxi. "Where is your mother?"
Marietta left von Rossbach standing to hurry around the car and start a new tirade at John. "You're filthy!" she said, holding a bit of his sleeve between thumb and forefinger. "And you look like you haven't eaten since you left! What has happened to you?"
"Calm down, Marietta," Epifanio said. "Let the boy draw his breath to speak."
The chief foreman sauntered over to them and extended his hand to his boss.
"Welcome home, senor, it is good to see you again. I am happy to inform you that everything here is under control."
"Under control!" his wife exclaimed. "There are bills waiting to be paid—
"Which I have paid as necessary," the overseer interrupted calmly. "Everything is going just as it should." He looked into the backseat of the taxi, then indicated the trunk. "Is there baggage, senor?"
"No," Dieter said quickly as he counted out bills. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Marietta asked, more calmly. "But, senor, you have been gone many days. You have no laundry?"
"What I have, Senora Ayala," von Rossbach said gallantly as the cab drove off,
"is a great hunger for some of your cooking. Would it be inconvenient for you to prepare something for us?"