up the evidence, and that scared him.
Ford was aware of faces in cracked doorways peeking out. In Masagua, people had learned not to interfere with armed men in uniform, and they pulled their doors shut quickly. They were turning away from his abduction, refusing to see it, just as stragglers on the early morning streets of Utatlan refused to see.
They took him down an alleyway that stank of urine, unlocked a door, and shoved him into a room. It was a tiny room with a single kerosene lamp on a wooden table. Ford steadied himself as his eyes adjusted, and there, slumped in a corner, was Tomlinson. Tomlinson's face was caked with blood, both eyes shut. For a moment Ford thought he was dead and felt the same vacancy of emotion, the same sense of waste, he had experienced upon finding Rafe Hollins. But then Tomlinson opened one swollen eye, smiling through the blood, saying 'I screwed up, man. I really screwed up.'
Behind Ford, Suarez said in convoluted English, 'Your friend was very happy to find someone in the Cacique Bar he could talk with. He is a talker, this friend of yours. He told me you had come to Masagua to find Julio Zacul. Such a coincidence, no? that I am closest friend to General Zacul.'
One of the soldiers pulled the door shut and locked it as Suarez said, 'Now we discover exactly why you want to find my friend.'
SIXTEEN
Ford was forced to sit at the table and Tomlinson was lifted into the chair beside him as Suarez took the two passports and studied the photos. Still speaking in English, he said, 'William Johnson, this is your name the book says, and your city is from New York. Is correct?'
When Suarez spoke English, he sounded like someone's funny uncle, and none too bright. But it was a device; a deception that Suarez was shrewd enough to use, and Ford knew he had to be careful. He had no idea what Tomlinson had told them, or why he had told them anything, so he stuck with their original story—but aggressively, wanting to lea<5 Suarez, not follow him. He shook his head. 'No, the passports are fake. My name is Ford. His name is Tomlinson. I had the passports made in Costa Rica. You should have figured that out just by looking at them.'
The frankness of that raised Suarez's eyebrows. 'Perhaps
the passports are real. Perhaps the names you give me are lies.'
'Look inside the passports. There will be a Masaguan stamp, but none from Costa Rican customs. That's where we came from, Costa Rica. If you don't believe me, take a look at the contract in the vehicle we rented in San Jose.'
'You entered illegally Masagua?'
'That's right, we did.'
'So quickly a confession! Perhaps you will admit as quickly that you are agents sent by the Agency of Central Intelligence to find General Zacul. You and the other fucks come to try and destroy the movement. Murderers!'
'Murderers?' As if he were shocked at the suggestion; amused, too, but Ford wasn't smiling. 'Look, we don't work for anyone but ourselves. You can believe that or not, but you had no reason to beat my associate. I mean, take a look at him. Does he look like a CIA agent to you? If you're not going to use your heads about this, at least use your eyes. '
Suarez turned away from Ford as if musing, then swung unexpectedly and hit him with the back of his hand, almost knocking him out of the chair. 'This partner you have wouldn't cooperate. This partner failed to understand our seriousness, just as you apparently do not understand.'
There was blood on Ford's face now, a slow trickle coming from his nose, and he wiped it away knowing he had to show outrage, not fear, if they were to live long enough to meet with Zacul. 'Your questions would be a hell of a lot easier to understand, Suarez, if you told us who you are. For all we know, you could be outlaws. Or the police. Or maybe government forces trying to destroy the general yourselves. Tell us why we should talk and then maybe we'll be more willing. '
Suarez leaned over him, and Ford smelled the sharp stink of tobacco on his breath. 'You must talk or we will kill you. Is cause enough?'
'It's a cause, but not a good reason. If you really are a friend of Zacul's, that might be a good reason.'
'I will ask the questions here. '
'Ask all you want. I'm not going to feel like doing much talking, though, unless you give me some answers first.' Suarez took that musing attitude again, preparing to slap him, and Ford said quickly, 'Look, we're not CIA agents. Can't you get that through your head? You can beat us all you want, but we're not going to admit to that because it's not true. In fact, it's just stupid. I personally don't give a damn who runs this country. The communists or the right-wingers, it's all the same to me. I'm here because I'm a businessman; strictly for profit. We have a business proposition to make General Zacul. That's why my friend was making inquiries. If you know Zacul, you can help us and I think we can help you.'
Tomlinson leaned forward to speak, but caught Suarez's look of warning. Suarez wasn't going to let him say anything to help guide Ford's answers, and Tomlinson sat back, giving a sad shrug, as if to say again he was the cause of this.
Suarez said, 'It is a thing of ease to claim you are businessmen, but a difficult thing so to prove.'
'Would a CIA agent who doesn't speak Spanish go in to a public bar and ask the whereabouts of someone he wanted to spy on? Do you come across that many dumb CIA agents? We're here because we want to do business with Zacul. But first we have to find him. Why in the hell do you think I had the fake passports made? I didn't want our own customs people to be able to trace us from Costa Rica into Masagua. I didn't want them speculating about why we were here.'
Suarez studied him for a moment, thinking, then said in Spanish, 'Your associate said you came because you wanted to sell General Zacul weaponry. If it is true, I believe the general would be interested in talking to you. But you have made no mention of weapons.'
It was an obvious trap, a soft offer to draw him into a lie, but Ford didn't fall for it. Replying in Spanish so as to suggest to Suarez he had no reason to communicate with Tomlinson, Ford said, 'I am surprised my friend would invent such a story. It's not true. Maybe you frightened him into telling a lie. There is only one reason we are here: to arrange to buy pre-Columbian artifacts. The only reason. We had planned on paying American dollars, but if Zacul wants to work out some kind of trade for weapons, we can discuss it. Frankly, though, I don't know a thing about weaponry. I have an associate in Washington, D.C., who has some connections, and since he's one of my principal backers he might be able to help.' Getting that information out in the open in case this was all because the Mayan woman had talked about his phone call; wanting to defuse the implications before Suarez had a chance to mention it.
It was a wise decision.
'Ah, yes, your friend in Washington, D.C. I heard of a call you made. It was a collect call, I believe. Very long. ' Adding the last in a tone that implied he knew what was said in the conversation.
He didn't know, of course. The Mayan woman obviously hadn't understood his conversation with Cheng. If she had, Suarez would have probably killed them immediately. 'He's a business associate,' Ford said, 'and he lives in D.C. So what? That doesn't mean we're government agents.'
'He must be a very important associate for you to call him from such a remote place.'
'I called to ask him about an auction that was held in New York last night. Some artifacts were auctioned off, and I wanted to see how the bidding went. Such things are only worth what people are willing to pay, and so far they're willing to pay a lot. I was checking the current market to see what kind of money we could offer Zacul.'
Suarez nodded and took a few steps away from the table. As he did, he picked up Tomlinson's notebook and began to leaf through it. He paused, studying the tracings Tomlinson had taken off the Mayan stela, and Ford sensed Suarez was beginning to soften a little. The notebooks were a strong piece of corroborative evidence. In English Suarez said, 'Why this man did not tell us you have come to buy artifacts? Why did he refuse to speak?' He was nodding at Tomlinson.
Through his swollen mouth, Tomlinson croaked, 'I thought you were a cop, man. Smuggling that stuff is illegal. Christ, I didn't want to go to jail.'
For a moment, Ford thought Suarez was going to laugh, and he decided to press while the going was good.
