Chapter 6
Guy hung up the receiver in the pay phone with a puzzled look on his face. The Hilton operator had rung his room a dozen times, then had sent a bell boy through the lobby, restaurant and bar paging Sandy Morrison, but all to no avail. Where in the hell can she be? Guy wondered. He remembered their fight that morning and knew that she was both angry and disappointed. He could hardly blame her, but still felt that she could be a little more reasonable about this silly assignment that was paying for their honeymoon in South America.
Even if she was mad, where could she go in a strange city like Bogota? He had both of their passports in his briefcase, so Guy knew that she couldn't hop a plane and fly home. She must have gone on a tour of some kind, he reasoned as he left the phone booth to rejoin the untamed little Miss Barbara Salton.
They had been on a whirlwind tour of the city, punctuated by frequent stops at bars. The amount of alcohol that the girl consumed convinced Guy that she wasn't on drugs, as her mother had indicated. There was little doubt in Guy's mind, however, that if Barbara wasn't already an alcoholic, she was damned close to being one. Guy had switched to wine in an effort to remain sober.
Guy had made a number of indirect approaches for a contact with Lockwood, but Barbara had laughed these off. He was still convinced that she could make the contact for him, and that she was his only real lead. And in the back of his mind was the growing suspicion that he was somehow on test with Barbara. She talked a mile a minute, mostly meaningless conversation, but every now and then she shot him a sharp, probing question. Several times Guy thought that this "fling", as she called it, was a deliberate attempt to delay him in some way, but he discarded the notion because it simply didn't add up with all of the other factors.
"Ready for the Gold Museum?" she greeted him brightly as he returned and pulled out the chair at their table in the bar.
"Soon as we finish our drinks," Guy laughed. "What the hell is the Gold Museum? And why should a young, exciting girl like you want to drag a strange man through museums?'
"Why, Prince Valiant," she said with a smile, "I believe I detect a hint that you'd like to get in my pants! Not that I'm against the idea. It might be fun to ball a straight. It could also be a bum trip, if you're too straight. Are you good in the sack?"
In her terms of reference, Guy was definitely a "straight". He had never talked to a girl like this before in his life! She was so direct and aggressive, and thoroughly open about it!
"Haven't had any complaints," Guy responded awkwardly, wondering how in the hell a man was supposed to field a question like that. He reappraised Barbara. Up until this moment, Guy hadn't looked at her from the sexual point of view. His entire interest in the girl was dedicated to making contact with the man that he had been sent to find. Barbara wasn't exactly his type of girl. He liked women who were neat, dainty, and very feminine. Yet he had to admit that Barbara had a strong earthy appeal. She had a good body, a slender, narrow waist, nice tail, and big tits. An affair with her wouldn't be the worst thing that he had ever taken on, by any means. But this wasn't his purpose! He had a wife with a great body waiting for him at the hotel and he was a man on his honeymoon.
"You're cute, Prince Valiant, when you blush like that," Barbara laughed. "It must be nice to be so damned innocent!"
"Look," Guy said in an effort to regain control of the conversation, "let's drop my somewhat-dull sex life and get back to this Gold Museum you mentioned."
"Do you like money?"
"Sure, who doesn't?" Guy replied.
"Come on, I'll show you some real wealth. This is something like the Holy Grail to men like Howard Hughes. If you're an honest to God greedy capitalist, this might even give you a hard-on."
Guy paid the waiter, gulped his wine, and followed Barbara to the bright purple Volkswagen. He braced himself as she took off with a screech of rubber and crowded a large taxi out to enter traffic. Since the first time that he had climbed into the purple bug with her at the Mina de Oro, Guy prayed for deliverance with each short trip. She drove like a raving maniac, paying absolutely no heed to one-way streets, stop signs, or other traffic. Miraculously, she had somehow avoided a dozen different collisions, but he wondered how long her luck would hold out.
She pulled up and parked double in front of a huge, impressive building.
"Give the fuzz over there a buck," she said, leaving the keys in the ignition. "He'll take care of the monster for us."
Guy did as she suggested, amused by the system. He was beginning to suspect that life in South America wasn't only more relaxed but could be very pleasant for the initiate. Barbara Salton was obviously a well-known celebrity in Bogota. Everywhere they went, people greeted her and treated her with deference. Her family was wealthy, and it was obvious that Barbara's social reputation took second place to her wealth.
They passed through an iron gate, then large oak doors and down several long corridors. Uniformed men stood guard at regular intervals in the building, and Guy noted with satisfaction that each guard held a Maxwell automatic weapon in his hands. At the end of the second corridor they entered a barred door into what was obviously a giant vault. The walls of the vault were -lined with lighted glass cases.
"This is for real, Prince Valiant," Barbara said as they walked over to the nearest case. "That's gold bullion. On the current free market, it's worth over a billion dollars."
"And this place is open to the public?" Guy asked as he gazed at the shining gold bars stacked neatly in rows along the entire length of the wall.
"Sure. I told you, this is a shrine for capitalists. A good part of Colombia's reserves are stored right here in this room."
"But the security that something like this requires!"
"Look at the guards," she laughed. "There are sixteen in this room at all times."
"And they have good weapons," Guy said with a chuckle. "I work for the company who manufacturers them."
Barbara looked at him quickly, her eyes bright as she gave him a momentary probing glance.
"So you're one of the nasties in the world," she said lightly.
"That, depends whose side you're on," Guy replied with a smile.
"That's what Jack always says," she remarked as she turned to walk to the other side of the room. "Over here we have a collection of some glass baubles," she continued.
"Are those for real?"
"Right on, Prince Valiant. That green thing there isn't a hunk of coke bottle. It's one of the largest emeralds in the world. And those rubies are supposed to be super-valuable because of their deep color. The diamonds don't match up to the African baubles, I'm told, but they're worth several fortunes. Does it all give you a hard-on?"
"I'm afraid not," Guy laughed, "but I'm glad we came."
"Well, maybe there's some hope for you after all," she remarked as they turned and headed for the exit. "I sort of pictured you as the average greedy bastard whose God is gold."
"You sound like an avenging communist," Guy said as they walked down another long corridor laced with armed guards.
"Oh, no! I think the communists are even worse. You'd have a tough time labeling me, Prince Valiant. Actually, I hate labels! I like to think of myself as a free spirit devoted to the joy of living. How do you think of yourself?"
"Damned if I know," Guy laughed. "I guess I've never tried to label myself. I suppose right now I'm a man dedicated to an assignment."
"How dull! Let's head for my pad and have a drink. Seeing that shrine to wealth always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. How about you?"
Sandy Morrison saw an empty bench in the manicured little park that she was passing and decided to sit down. She couldn't remember feeling this terrible in her entire life! She had a splitting headache. Her stomach seemed to be turning sommersaults and her vagina was sore and aching.
Carl had made love to her three times, each time more violently, until they both collapsed in exhaustion. As each hour passed while she was in bed with Carl, Sandy became more sober. By the time he announced that he had to catch a flight, Sandy was both sober and terrified about what had happened to her. She was almost as uncomfortable with the guilt that she felt about what she had done to Guy and their marriage as she was with the physical aspects of a giant hangover.
Sandy felt so cheap! She was little better than a whore! She shuddered every time she thought of her adventure with the strange man. She couldn't deny the pleasure, the fantastic satisfaction that she had experienced in bed with him, and she was relieved to find that she was a normal woman in that aspect. But the way she did it, and on her honeymoon!
She wished that her hands would stop shaking. Sandy's knowledge of hangovers was limited to taking an aspirin or two, but she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to swallow even that without vomiting.
Finding that she was too nervous to sit, she began walking again. She found it difficult to get her breath and she knew that that had something to do with the altitude in Bogota. The thought that kept nagging at her mind was what she would do about Guy and their marriage. In her mind, she wasn't fit to be his wife! Could she bring herself to tell him what happened? Could she live a lie with him the rest of her life? Christ, what a mess!
Although she had taken two showers before she left the hotel to walk aimlessly about in the fresh air, Sandy suddenly felt an urgent need for another shower. She knew that she was trying to cleanse, herself, but the desire was overpowering. She turned, trying to remember the direction from which she had come. Sandy remembered entering the park on the other side and decided that she would cross through the path.
Just as she emerged from the park, Sandy saw Guy coming out of the large building that faced on the east side of the park. She couldn't face him now! She stepped back behind a tree, and it was at that moment that she noticed that Guy Morrison wasn't alone. Hanging on his arm in a very affectionate and possessive way was an attractive young girl dressed like a hippie. It was obvious that the girl wasn't Latin. Who was she? And what in the hell was Guy doing with her when he was supposed to be searching for a man? Sandy watched them walk up to the policeman and chat with him for a moment. Then they climbed into a hideous-looking purple Volkswagen. She saw Guy laughing just as the car jolted into motion and screeched away down the street.
Sandy leaned against the tree and tried to still her trembling body. Was Guy playing around on her on their honeymoon? How could he! How could he leave her alone in a hotel and go dashing off to some young hippie girl who didn't even wear shoes! Adrenalin rushed through her system as she was flooded by anger and indignation.