Chapter 15
Peter Martin arrived at five fifteen in the afternoon and took a taxi from the airport to the Tres Vientos Hotel overlooking the lake in downtown Bariloche. He checked in, found no messages waiting for him, and headed for the bar. Peter was an angry, confused, and defeated man. The photos that had been delivered to him had crushed him. The sight of Jenifer's lovely white body next to the dark Latin with the giant penis made his stomach turn. The sensual leer on her face! The way she accommodated the ugly Latin! Taking his penis in her mouth and kneeling before him like his personal slave. Playing with herself with the plastic instrument. Almost begging the man to bugger her! And the obvious enjoyment on her face!
Peter ordered a scotch and water as he sat at a table by the window overlooking the lake. The snow was drifting down from the dark-grey sky, obliterating any view that he might have had, but Peter was lost in his thoughts. He was certain that Jenifer was a virgin when he married her. What in the world had they done to her? How could they have turned her into such a wanton whore in a few short days?
Jenifer had guessed correctly, Peter was already considering divorce or annulment. Even if she was the victim of circumstances and couldn't help what had happened, Peter knew that he could never spend his life with the memory of those photos etched in his mind. He could never let her be the mother of his children!
As straight-laced as he was, Peter Martin was a compassionate man. That was why he had come to Bariloche. He would rescue Jenifer if he possibly could, but he was dedicated to punishing the man responsible for this. And in Peter's mind, the man was the Latin in the photos. Somehow he would find that man and kill him.
As the amber scotch began to warm and relax him, Peter began to plan. He had registered at this hotel, following the instructions that he had received with the photos to the letter. He wouldn't, however, be fool enough to stay there where they could control him like a puppet on a string! He would keep the room and arrange a cover with a member of the hotel personnel. Then he would find another hotel and operate from there. His training in Intelligence would then be put to use. His goal was to locate the Latin, and everything he did would be directed toward that end.
Peter was so lost in thought that he didn't see the Fiat pull up to the curb in front of the hotel. Nor did he see the lean, dark Latin emerge from the car. But the man saw Peter framed in the lighted window of the hotel bar. Ignacio Sandoval studied the lone man sitting at the window and quickly pulled into the shadow of the hotel to avoid being recognized.
When Peter turned to order another drink, Ignacio moved quickly to the Fiat and slipped behind the wheel. Learning that Peter Martin was in Bariloche a day early explained Jenifer's disappearance. The photos were to be delivered to Peter the following morning, along with the demand that he come to the mountains immediately. The Hawk had no idea that Sergio Mora had ordered everything moved one day ahead and he assumed that Peter had somehow found where Jenifer was being held captive and rescued her when Ignacio had gone to town shortly after noon.
Ignacio decided to go ahead with the plan on schedule. He had been evaluating making a change since he discovered Jenifer missing, but the appearance of Peter Martin in Bariloche explained that mystery. He would, of course, have to abandon the chalet now that it was known. And he would have to keep tabs on Peter Martin. The Hawk believed that Martin would pack up his wife and split at this point, but if he stayed he could still be used.
Ignacio was pleased to see that the snow was slacking off as he drove up to Bariloche Center Hotel and registered for a room. He parked the Fiat on the steep hill beside the Center and walked briskly up the steps to the hotel entrance. A copy of a Buenos Aires newspaper caught his eye as he followed the bellboy to the elevator. Ignacio stopped and bought a copy while the bellboy waited at the elevator. In the small, inexpensive but pleasant room, the Hawk accepted the key and gave the boy a tip. He closed the door and spread the newspaper out on the bed. The headlines were dull and uninteresting to Ignacio, but he finally found the item that he was searching for. In a small box at the bottom right hand comer was an itinerary for the coming personal appearances of Juan Peron.
BARILOCHE: May 30, 11 A.M. DEDICATION IN PLAZA, the schedule read.
May 30, Ignacio said to himself! That's tomorrow, a day early! Why hadn't they informed me of the change? Or had it just been announced? Ignacio studied the paper thoughtfully for a moment. A sixth sense warned him that something was wrong. He had learned not to trust last-minute changes. In someone else's schedule or in his own.
Ignacio began slowly pacing the floor. If Peter Martin had his wife, the ransom was blown. That amounted to a half-a-million-dollar loss to Ignacio. Not that he had counted on the money. It was a windfall, not part of the original plan. But it represented a loss nonetheless. His contract on Peron was for twenty-five thousand dollars plus expenses. Tuyo had put ten thousand up front before the Hawk ever arrived. The balance, plus his expenses, was to be paid upon completion of the task. And if he didn't hit Peron, the Hawk knew that he would have to return the ten thousand dollars. He had already bought gold bullion for his Swiss account, so that would be very inconvenient.
He stopped pacing and gazed down at the paper again. His mind was made up. Unless something else happened, he would go through with the plan. This meant that there were things that had to be done that same evening! Pocketing the key to the room, he left the hotel and drove back to the chalet. One of the first things to be done was to advise Mora of his change of locale.
After waiting five minutes for some sound on the telephone in the chalet, Ignacio replaced the receiver and went outside to check the line. He traced it all the way to the pole on the road and found it intact. It must have been something to do with the storm, he said to himself as he returned to the chalet and began assembling the things that he would need and transfered them to the Fiat. He wrapped the high-powered rifle with a telescopic sight in a sheet of heavy white plastic.
Concealing the weapon in or near the office from which he would fire had been one of the Hawk's prime concerns. Argentine secret police would swarm over the buildings on the plaza in the morning, checking everywhere for any weapons. And anybody going to one of the offices in the morning would be subjected to a thorough search. The snow had provided Ignacio with a heaven-sent opportunity to plant his weapon where the chances of it being found were practically nil. Wrapped in white plastic and covered with plenty of snow, it could be left laying flat on the edge of the landing of the fire escape just thirty feet from the office that he would use. He had already given the weapon a heavy coat of oil to prevent the mechanism from freezing, and he could warm it on the steam heater in the office an hour before Peron would arrive in the plaza. He would wait until the early-morning hours to place the weapon to avoid any chance of being seen.
He made a last inventory of everything that he had packed into the small trunk of the Fiat, then gave the chalet a farewell glance and drove toward Bariloche.
Entering the Bariloche Center Hotel, Ignacio didn't notice the man standing by the newsstand. Peter Martin, however, saw Ignacio and every muscle in his body tensed. Peter had just registered and was buying a pack of cigarettes when the lean dark Latin entered the lobby and headed for the elevator. Peter recognized the man immediately. He would never forget the man's sharp, ugly features in the photographs with Jenifer!
Cool it, Peter cautioned himself. He had no doubts that this Latin was a very dangerous person. Peter knew that he had the advantage because the man hadn't seen him. When he heard the elevator door close, Peter turned and watched the indicator above the elevator. It stopped at the fifth floor and Peter made a note in his mind. Peter's room was on the sixth floor, just one above that of the man he was so obsessed with to kill.
Peter went up to his room and took the automatic from his briefcase. He inspected the weapon carefully and then placed it in the pocket of his overcoat. He had no plan. He was simply going to follow the Latin everywhere he went. Perhaps the man would lead him to Jenifer. Regardless, Peter would kill the Latin at the first opportunity of not being observed. He knew that he couldn't risk involving the embassy or the U.S. Government in his private vengeance. Slipping into his overcoat for a long, lonely vigil, Peter took the elevator down, crossed the lobby and walked across the street to stand where he had a perfect view of the entrance.
Five blocks away, Yolanda Cassals was asking the night clerk at the Tres Vientos Hotel about Peter Martin. She had arrived in Bariloche two hours earlier and was surprised to find the chalet empty and locked. She was equally surprised to find that Peter Martin wasn't in his room waiting for instructions, and she was using the considerable charms of her body on the night clerk for information.