crisscrossing the region, ostensibly searching for other rebel hideouts. The Peruvian air force was flying its own missions as well. It seemed ironic — for years he had begged for more helicopters and attack planes to support his fights against the rebel slimes; now practically the entire air force was in his region.
By 10:00 a.m. Saturday, Tucume had put two calls in to General Maduro, asking whether the general would accompany him when he returned to the unit that afternoon. The general’s chief of staff was polite but could not say when the general would get back to Tucume.
When he hung up the phone after the second call, Tucume sat motionless for a few moments, contemplating the situation. Would the revelation that the bomb was not a real warhead diffuse some of the American pressure? If so, would that be enough to mollify Maduro?
It didn’t matter. Aznar would win the election tomorrow, and after that, he would be fine. He had only to wait out his enemies to declare victory.
There was a sharp rap on Tucume’s suite door.
“Come,” said the general.
“There are more newspeople downstairs,” said his aide, Chimor. “What should I do with them?”
“Tell them I don’t have a statement.”
“You ought to talk to them,” said Babin, entering the suite behind the servant pushing in breakfast. “Public relations are important.”
“Stephan. Good morning.”
Chimor, who had not yet met Babin, looked at him crossly. He took him as a rival, Tucume realized.
“Senor Babin is a consultant who knows about nuclear weapons,” the general told his aide. “He understands how they work. This is Captain Chimor, my most valuable officer.”
Chimor preened for a moment, then lowered his head slightly.
“Your voice is very gravelly today, Stephan,” Tucume said. “Did you stay up late last night?”
“I checked out the bar.”
“And you used a car.”
“I wanted to see the sights.”
Tucume interpreted this to mean that Babin had spent time with a prostitute. He’d been shut up in exile for nearly three years. A man needed to be a man.
“Have breakfast with us,” the general told him. “Captain, you, too. Please. Sit.”
“If I may be excused, General. The press is waiting,” Chimor explained. “What should I tell them?”
“Tell them that I do not have a statement now. I’ve told the story already, and there’s really nothing to add. The army will defend the people of Peru until the death. I will defend the people of Peru until the death. I’m leaving for the base at three,” Tucume added. “The defense ministry was to have arranged for experts from the International Atomic Energy Agency — perhaps they can join us. Contact the ministry.”
“Directly? Or through the general staff?”
Tucume hesitated. “Directly.”
“The American general, Spielmorph, is in Lima at the embassy,” said Chimor. “He landed last night.”
“If he calls, then we must share the request with General Maduro,” said Tucume. “Personally, I would have no objection, but that is the major general’s decision to make.”
Chimor nodded, then left.
“Very politic,” said Babin.
“Yes. Maduro is not pleased with me. He’s jealous.”
“The Yankees?”
“They are a problem. Nervous old aunts in the next room.” Tucume smiled.
“Those experts will know as soon as they’re close to the bomb that it’s not real.”
“That may be just as well now.”
Babin scowled at him, obviously not understanding his point, Tucume thought.
“You should have spoken to the press,” said Babin. “You need the people on your side, and the press will help you do that.”
“I don’t need a middleman. The newspeople are liars. Most are owned by the government anyway.”
Babin seemed as if he were going to say something more but instead changed the subject. “I’d like to use a car today. I’d like to get some new clothes.”
“I can send someone.”
“I’d really like to move around, if you know what I mean.”
“I have no objection,” said Tucume. “Be careful where you spend your energy.”
“I’m careful.”
“The CIA has been sending many people into the city. I fear for your safety.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“I can protect you after the election,” said Tucume. “But until Aznar takes office, things will be difficult. You must be careful.”
“Let me worry about that.” Babin struggled to his feet.
“You must have a hangover. You’re very disagreeable.” Tucume watched the Russian crutch his way to the door. “Be careful.”
“Good advice,” said Babin, opening the door. “You should take it, too.”
96
Lia leaned against the wall next to the water cooler and took a piece of elastic from her pocket, pushing it over her fist and up her wrist. Then she opened her briefcase and reached her nail beneath the top of the lining. She pulled, gently at first, and finally with a tug so hard she worried her nail would come off. The lining gave way and she pulled the envelope out, opening it just as she heard footsteps approaching. She pushed the cards up her sleeve, hooking them beneath the elastic. Closing the briefcase, she went to the water cooler and began pouring herself a drink.
A young girl approached her, a worried look on her face. The girl’s hands trembled as she reached for the water.
“Are you all right?” Lia asked her in Spanish.
The girl turned suddenly, as if she hadn’t even noticed that Lia was there.
“Are you OK?” Lia asked again.
The girl said nothing.
“Do you need something? Can I help you?”
The girl stared at her, still surprised.
“Quechua,” said Lia, talking to Rockman.
She heard him sigh beneath his breath before the language expert came on the line.
“Are you OK?” Lia asked again in Spanish. And then she repeated the words the translator gave her.
“I am OK,” said the girl, speaking in Spanish. “Thank you.”
“Who are you?”
“Calvina.”
“You should sit down, Calvina,” said Lia. “Come on.” She took the girl by the arm and led her into the hallway, but there were no chairs there. She turned back and led her to the stairway. As she sat the girl down, the deputy mayor’s voice bellowed from the second-floor landing.
“What are you doing?” he asked in Spanish.
“This young lady seems sick,” answered Lia.
“That’s none of your concern.”
Lia ignored him. “Are you all right?” she asked the girl.
Calvina nodded. Lia left her and climbed back up the stairs, where the deputy mayor was waiting, as if he were the principal and she an errant schoolgirl.
“Your guard wouldn’t get me a drink of water. So I helped myself.”
