The Seduction of Goody Two-Shoes

“How much damage do you think they did?”

“To the car?” There was a pause, and then a grudging, “Hard to say. Those Beetles are pretty hard to kill.”

“Think you can fix it?”

“Assuming we make it back there, you mean? Don’t know, depends on what they hit. How many tires we have…” His voice trailed away, but not before she heard the hopelessness in it. Assuming we make it back there…

Remorse and regret settled around her again like a cold mist, making her feel chilled in spite of the heat. Poor McCall. She should have told him everything. She should have trusted him. Of course he was thinking that even if they did manage to escape from the smugglers’ camp, they were in the middle of a jungle with no way of knowing which way to go in order to find their way back to their car. And she had no chance to let him know that that scenario, too, had been anticipated and prepared for.

“Too bad they threw away our lunch,” she said, acutely conscious of the guard beside her…of alert and listening ears. “I guess we could have used some bread crumbs right about now…”

McCall’s only reply was another grunt. Oddly, though, this one wasn’t nearly as surly as before. In fact, it sounded almost…surprised.

A moment later she heard him call out to his captors, asking in Spanish for a cigarette break. The request was passed up the line and responses came back, good-natured and relaxed, most of them. The column halted, and Ellie heard the rustle of cigarette packs, the scritch of matches, the click of lighters. Some laughter and low-voiced conversation. She smelled tobacco smoke…a hint of a cigar. It seemed an interminable time, waiting in blindfolded isolation, until they started moving again.

They stopped for a smoke-break several more times after that. And each time, her sense of remorse eroded in indirect proportion to her own physical discomfort. As she waited, slapping at the insects that whined in her ears and flew into her nose in spite of the high-powered repellent she’d all but bathed in that morning, she tried to keep her mind sharp and her impatience in check. But it was a losing battle. What, she wondered, was the matter with these people? With McCall? Dammit, didn’t it occur to anyone that she was miserable and uncomfortable, itchy, hungry, thirsty and in need of a bathroom? What was McCall hoping to do? she wondered. It was almost as though he was trying to postpone their arrival at the smugglers’ camp-assuming that was their intended destination. If so, to what purpose? As far as Ellie was concerned, the sooner they got there the better-at least then they’d probably let her go to the bathroom.

She had no way of knowing how long they’d been walking, or how far from the road they’d gone-for all she knew they might have been walking around in circles-when she began to feel a difference in her surroundings. The air felt cooler, though no less humid. She had a sense of open spaces where branches and vines no longer grabbed at her legs or slapped her in the face. Underfoot, the soft mushy vegetation now seemed to be broken with flat mossy stones. Sunlight that burned hot on the top of her head alternated with patches of deep shade.

In the near distance she could hear the raucous calls of birds-lots of birds-macaws, parrots, toucans and cockatoos, by the sound of it. Too many in one place to be natural. Her heart quickened and excitement prickled through her scalp and shivered her skin with goose bumps. This was it-she was sure of it-the smugglers’ camp. She was here-she’d made it. At last.

Hands gripped her arms, pulling her to a halt. She felt fingers fumbling with the knot of her blindfold. Impatiently, she reached up to take off first her sun visor-carefully-then snatched off the blindfold. She replaced the sun visor, blinking in the suddenness of light, slightly disoriented by the mottled patterns of sunlight and shadow. Then her eyes focused. She uttered a sharp, shuddering gasp.

Staring back at her from out of a thicket of jungle growth, wrapped around with vines and festooned with bromeliads and wild orchids, was a gigantic stone face. As imposing as it was, taller than she was by at least a foot or two, after that first shock her first thought was that there was a kind of sweetness about it, with its blank, sleepy eyes and babyish roundness, like a doll dropped there by some Titan’s child and forgotten.

“Olmec,” McCall said from close beside her.

She glanced up at him…and was utterly unprepared for the fierce stab of joy she felt at the sight of his beard- stubbled, scowling face. Even the scowl seemed wonderfully comforting to her, and the stubble as familiar to her as if she’d known him all her life. And at the same time she felt as if she were seeing him for the first time, or after a long absence. She just wanted to stare at him, drink him in, stamp the image of every line, every pore and whisker indelibly on her memory…on her soul.

I should have told him. I should have trusted him.

She should have-she could have. She knew that now. Now that it was too late. Oh, but why hadn’t she recognized the honesty and intelligence in those keen blue eyes? Why hadn’t she known about the strength and character, courage and honor that lay behind the beard and the don’t- give-a-damn attitude?

But, of course, she had seen. Her instincts had known, and that was why she’d turned to him in the first place. She just hadn’t trusted her instincts far enough.

“What?” He was staring down at her, his eyes narrowed and wary.

“Nothing-I didn’t…” She shook her head and peeled her gaze away from his. Inside she felt fragile and shaken, trembly with the urge to touch him, to reach for his hand, to find reassurance in his strength. She grabbed a desperate breath. “I-what did you say?”

“I said they’re Olmec-the heads. I’ve seen-”

“That is correct. I see you know your ruins.” The new voice came from close behind them-a familiar voice, speaking Spanish.

Forewarned by the odor of cigars, McCall gave no indication of surprise at the intrusion. He merely nodded a cool acknowledgment as the smoker from the cantina moved up beside him, keeping just beyond arm’s reach.

“The heads are Olmec-the largest yet discovered, I believe. Larger even than the ones found at Chacan Bacan. These ruins have only recently been discovered, you understand. They are not yet open to tourists.”

“Ah,” said McCall. “Interesting.”

The smoker chuckled-obviously feeling more relaxed and hospitable here on his home turf than the last time they’d met. “Yes, yes-but you did not come here to see ruins. Forgive me-you must be hungry and thirsty after your…journey. I hope it was not too long and unpleasant? Perhaps you would like to…how do you say it in America? ‘Freshen up’?” He removed the cigar from his mouth as he looked past McCall, displaying his large, tobacco-stained teeth in a smile. “Your wife is very quiet today, senor. Perhaps you have followed my advice, eh?” That was accompanied by the same unmistakably descriptive gesture he’d used in the cantina.

Close beside him, McCall felt Ellie’s body tighten and silently prayed, willed her to silence. Aloud he said mildly, ignoring the last comment, “That would be appreciated. And we would gladly accept your gracious offer of refreshment…since your men did not allow us to bring our own.”

“Ah-my men.” The smoker gave a shrug, an elaborate gesture of regret. Then he continued as he turned away, indicating that McCall and Ellie were to accompany him, “Sometimes they can be a little, shall we say, overzealous?”

“Yeah?” McCall lit a cigarette as he moved to the smoker’s side, thereby establishing himself on a socially equal footing. He could only hope Ellie would catch and understand-not to mention obey-his hand-signal that she was to follow along behind. He kept his tone mild…conversational. “Does that include disabling my car?”

“They harmed your car?” The smoker took his cigar from his mouth and favored McCall with a look of sharp dismay. “Senor Burnside, please accept my sincere apologies. Let me assure you that when you are returned to your car, any necessary repairs will be attended to.”

“Gracias,” said McCall dryly. The ambiguity in that sentence made his skin crawl; the words when and necessary spoke volumes.

He could feel Ellie’s impatience like a sub-audible hum in his own bones. She’d be champing at the bit, he knew, eager to get down to business, anxious to see the animals she’d come to buy, demanding to speak to the man in charge. She wouldn’t understand the Mexican way of doing things. Understand that here the conventions must be adhered to first, polite greetings made, concern for health and well-being expressed, hospitality offered. Even if, McCall reflected wryly, the party you were doing business with was planning to kill you.

“Our amenities are few here, as you can see,” the smoker went on, with an expansive wave of his arm. He pointed toward a pyramid-shaped pile of great stone blocks half-buried in jungle foliage. “I would suggest you go in