"Thank you, Linda. Well, we're all attractive, aren't we?" Wellafield said.
"We are, and I think that's very nice." She ordered a third martini, but by the time she took the first sip she was feeling definitely woozy.
"Oh-oh, it's working," she said. "I think we'd better go."
"Take this little pill first," Wellafield said.
"It won't put me out right away, will it?"
"No, it will take about twenty minutes."
"Okay. You're very attractive, Doc."
She got into the chair again, sat down rather heavily, and let Stone propel her out into the corridor. There weren't any controls on the arms.
"This is a different kind of chair," she heard Stone saying.
"Oh."
They were out in the open, crossing the concrete, and then she was being carried chair and all up the ramp toward an airplane that looked as big as a building, but it was lying on its side.
A man in uniform appeared in the open hatchway. "Ms. Lavalle, I'm Frank Chesterton, the pilot."
"You are, aren't you?"
"Uh, yes, that's right."
Now she was inside, surrounded by half a dozen people with heads like balloons. Two of them looked like Ed Stone, and she couldn't tell which was which. "Introductions later, folks," said the pilot. "Let's get this lady into her stateroom where she can rest." They were moving across a vast lounge, through a dining room, then down a long corridor to a bedroom. Wellafield and the others went away; Ed's fingers were helping her get undressed. There was a whisper of sheets. Blackness was flowing up around her, but she had time to say, "This is a mistake of gigannic proportions."
CHAPTER 34
She slept, knowing that she was in a cylinder of metal that was droning through the blue darkness. The cylinder contracted like a colon, squeezed her out steaming into the sky, and she fell forever until the earth below turned into Stone's face, and as his mouth opened she saw the darkness inside, and the cardboard breathing out and breathing in.
And she was sitting up in the cold blue-white light of the window. Her heart was hammering and her mouth was dry. Stone said, "You okay?"
He was standing by the bed, dressed and shaved. "I was just going to wake you up," he said. "We're landing in about twenty minutes, okay? I'll be in the lounge." He yawned, and she saw the cardboard in his throat; then he left.
She staggered into the bathroom. The dream was real, and she couldn't wake up. She put her clothes on and ran a brush through her hair, wondering what she was going to do.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Chesterton's voice from the loudspeaker, "we are now making our final approach to Evita Peron. The weather's good, pollution index moderate, sixty-two degrees Fahrenheit on the ground now, and the high today will be seventy-eight. Fasten seat belts please. We'll be on the ground in five minutes, thank you."
She found her shoe and put it on, then sat down and fastened the belt, gripped the armrests while the plane tilted and slid down the air with a whistling sound, like a falling artillery shell. She had a violent headache; she knew she was about to die, either before or after she threw up, and it bothered her that she had to do it with only one shoe on.
Then a hideous bump, and they were rolling. The plane swiveled, then the sound of the engines turned into a loud silence.
Stone opened the door and came in. "You okay?" he said.
"No. Open your mouth, will you?"
"What for?"
"I thought I saw something. "
"Yeah?" He looked perplexed, but opened wide. Something at the back of his throat fluttered out of sight.
"So what was it?" he asked.
She forced herself to say, "I don't know. Nothing."
"You had a rough time, huh? Come on. You'll feel better when you're on the ground."
When they left the plane there were five of them besides the crew; the fourth one was one of Stone's doubles, and the fifth was a serious man in a gray suit who did not introduce himself. Wellafield took her wrist as they walked across the tarmac. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Rotten."
Inside the customs shed they were met by a porter, who handed Lavalle a diplomatic passport.
"Thank you very much," she said.
"No problem." The porter smiled and went away.
After customs they got into a limousine, all five. Stone said, "Uh, Linda, you know Medium Bob, and this is Dan DeQuincy, he's my bodyguard."
"I'm glad to meet you," Lavalle said. "That's funny, I'm the one who needs a bodyguard."
DeQuincy nodded. "That could be arranged, certainly," he said to Stone. "You want me to call State?"
"Yeah, would you?"
DeQuincy got out his phone and spoke into it so quietly that she could not hear. He put the phone away. "They'll get back to us. They may have to fly somebody down."
The morning streets were almost deserted; there were few cars, and almost no pedestrians, but she could hear a faint squawking of music in the distance. She remembered other trips to South America, always like this: the empty morning light was so sad.
The limousine delivered them to a large hotel. A gorgeous bellhop showed them to their suite on the fifteenth floor. There were crossed swords on the upholstery, the drapes, and the bedspreads.
"Listen," Stone said, "I've got to go and meet the President, and I think you'd better stay here, don't you? At least until we get you a bodyguard."
"Yes."
"Doc can stay with you, if you want. "
"No, that's okay. "
He moved as if to kiss her, but she managed to cough into her hand at the wrong moment. He looked a little puzzled. "Well, we'll be back tonight. Sure you're okay?"
"Yes."
When they were gone, she went into the bedroom and looked at Stone's suitcases; they were all locked. She touched the call button on the console and said in Spanish, "Please send up a hammer and some small nails."
The clerk's voice responded, "Pardon me, but for what purpose do you want them, Senora?"
"I want to repair the heel of my shoe."
"We will be glad to do that for you, Senora."
"No, I'm in a hurry. Do as I ask, please."
"Very well, Senora."
After a few minutes a bellboy knocked on the door and handed her a hammer and a box of nails. "Are these the right kind?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you."
"Will there be anything else, Senora?"
"No, thank you."
"At your orders." He bowed and went away.
She set a nail against the locks and broke them with reckless swings of the hammer. In one of the suitcases she found a carton of cigarettes, a half-liter of rye, a bundle of australes-the equivalent of several hundred thousand dollars-and a smaller bundle of U.S. currency. She wondered why he wanted so much; for bribes, perhaps. She put the money in her purse and laid the other things on the bed. Next she went into the adjoining room and broke the locks of DeQuincy's luggage as well. In his suitcase she found a high-powered rifle with a scope, broken down in its own little case, several boxes of shells, and three banana clips. Her hands were trembling. She packed everything she had taken into the only one of Stone's suitcases that would still close. Then she went into Wellafield's room, found his medical bag, and took that too, although it looked very old.
She swallowed two aspirins and a tranquilizer; used the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and turned out the lights before she left, carrying the suitcase in one hand, the medical bag and her spare shoe in the other.
The desk clerk saw her crossing the lobby and called, "Senora Lavalle, you are leaving us?"
"Yes."
"Yourself only, or will the others leave too?"
"Only myself. Good-bye."