The captain looked alarmed. "Who is this person?"
"He is a business associate of mine, and his name is Vittorio, no last name."
"What does he look like?"
"He's about six feet tall, a hundred and seventy pounds, and he's dressed in black, with a black, flat-brimmed hat."
"I have seen this person on the upper deck after we left Mazatlan," the captain said. "What happened?"
"I don't know. After we sailed, I went to the snack bar and had some lunch, then read a newspaper. When we were approaching La Paz, I went to the upper deck to find him, but he wasn't there. I went down to my car, and he wasn't there, either. I've looked everywhere, and I can't find him."
The captain picked up a microphone and made an announcement of a delay in disembarkation, then he led Cupie below and to the bow of the ship. He ordered one man to take two others and search the ship from stem to stern and another to watch the gangplank where foot traffic disembarked for anyone fitting Vittorio's description, then he and Cupie looked in each car and its trunk as it left the ferry, finding nothing.
"Senor," the captain said. "You are absolutely certain he was aboard?"
"I am absolutely certain; I came aboard in his company. You must call the coast guard and ask for a search of our route across the gulf. He can only have gone overboard."
The captain nodded, produced a cell phone and made a call, speaking in rapid Spanish. He closed the phone. "It will be done immediately, senor," he said. "A boat will leave from Mazatlan and another from La Paz, and they will meet in the middle of the gulf, then make the return trip. The tide is slack, so if your friend fell overboard, he will not have drifted far. Can he swim?"
"I don't know," Cupie said. He remembered seeing Vittorio coming out of the sea with Barbara, but he had not seen him actually swimming.
"Senor, you must remove your car from the ferry, as we have to reload and return to Mazatlan. We will keep an eye out for your friend as we cross, so there will be three vessels looking for him. I suggest you inquire at the coast guard office at the head of the pier about the search."
Cupie suddenly had an awful thought. "My friend had the key to the car," he said.
"Then we must push it ashore," the captain replied.
Cupie went back to the car and rousted Barbara, told her what had happened. "You and Vittorio went swimming together, didn't you?
"Yes, back at the casita."
"Could he swim?"
"I don't know; we didn't go in very deep. He didn't seem to be afraid of the water."
"We're going to be delayed, now," Cupie said. "I've got to contact the car rental company and get either a new key or a new car, and we have to wait and find out about the results of the search."
"Of course, whatever's necessary. Do you really think he fell overboard?"
"He's not on the ship; there's only one other place he can be, and it's being searched. You steer the car while we push."
Barbara got into the front seat, and saw Cupie's cell phone on the passenger seat. She switched it off and put it into her handbag. No calls to Ed Eagle today.
CUPIE SAT WITH BARBARA in a restaurant near their hotel, picking at his food. "I can't believe this," he said. "Are you sure you didn't see him again after we got out of the car?"
"No. I told you, I went to sleep."
"And why would he take my cell phone?"
"I don't know. Maybe his battery was low, and he wanted to make a call."
"I guess that makes sense. I've got to call Eagle and tell him what's happened." He looked around for a phone.
"Why don't you wait until you hear from the coast guard? You don't even know what to tell him yet."
"Yeah, I guess. Listen, there's something I have to talk to you about."
"What's that?"
"Vittorio and I talked about this today, before he… whatever he did. There's something wrong about this business with the kidnappers and the policia."
"Of course, there's something wrong," she said. "They're trying to kidnap me for my money."
"It's more than that. Three hundred grand isn't much to these people; they get multimillion-dollar ransoms. There's got to be some other reason why they're so interested in you. Tell me what it is."
Barbara looked baffled. "I don't have the faintest idea," she said. "Why would they want me for any other reason than my money?"
"You said you'd been to Puerto Vallarta before, right?"
"Yes, but that was years ago."
"This whole business started after we got to Puerto Vallarta. Did anything happen on your last visit that would have interested the police?"
"No, I came down with a girlfriend for a long weekend, and we liked it, so we stretched it into a week."
"What did you do while you were there?"
"The usuaclass="underline" we lay on the beach, drank margaritas, shopped, like that."
"Did you get stopped by the police for any reason? Help me out here, Barbara. Help me to protect you. Why do these people want you?"
"Cupie, this is crazy; the police here have no interest in me or, at least, not until I wired the three hundred thousand to the local bank. I think you were right: somebody at the bank tipped them off."
Cupie sighed. "All right. The car rental company will supply a new key in the morning. We'll start after we hear from the coast guard, and we should be in Tijuana by nightfall."
He didn't believe her, but he didn't know what else to do. One thing, though: he was going to watch his back for the rest of this trip.
Thirty-five
ED EAGLE WOKE FEELING FRESH AND READY FOR THE new day. He was looking forward to work, something he had not felt since Barbara's decamping. He showered and shaved, and as he looked in the mirror he thought again about the message from the county jail that Joe Big Bear was going to kill him.
It didn't make any more sense this morning than it had the day before. He thought of calling the police or the D.A., but what would he tell them? Joe had not told him the name of the man in jail who had been hired to kill him, and that must have been who made the phone call. And Joe was a free man only because of him, and people tended to be grateful for that kind of help.
He had breakfast and slipped into his suit jacket, and as he was about to leave he stopped at the front door. Better to be safe. He went back to his dressing room and removed the Terry Tussy custom.45 from the safe, slipped off his belt and replaced it with the wider, thicker gun belt, then threaded the holster onto the belt. He checked the magazine and made sure there was one in the chamber, then he cocked and locked the pistol and shoved it into the custom-made Mitch Rosen holster, which held the pistol high against his rib cage, making it easier to conceal. He left by the front door, picking up the Santa Fe New Mexican and the New York Times on the doorstep, and got into his car, tossing the papers onto the next seat.
He drove down the driveway and stopped, looking up and down the road. The pistol was digging into a rib, so he took it out of the holster and placed it on the passenger seat between the two newspapers, so it wouldn't get the leather seat oily.
He turned right and started down the mountain, driving in a leisurely fashion, thinking about the day ahead. As he came around a bend he saw a pickup truck pulled over onto the shoulder with the hood up, and he slowed. He'd see if the driver needed help. As he did, a man waving a hand stepped from behind the pickup's raised hood. The man looked familiar.
Then, as the man approached, Eagle belatedly recognized him. Joe Big Bear was smiling and waving with his left hand, seemingly relieved to have some help, and his right hand was behind his back. Eagle pressed the button that automatically lowered the passenger-side window, and as he did, something in the back of his mind told him he was making a mistake.