January Justice Part 26

"It is not a problem. I have his key. Look." I swiped the card in the mechanism on the open door. A small green light appeared.

She said "Okay" again, this time with more sincerity.

I went to a table and picked up a pad of scratch paper which had the hotel's logo at the top. I held it at an angle to the window so the daylight fell across it, hoping for indentations left by the last note. There were none that I could see.

As the maid was leaving the room, I said, "Mr. Brown asked me to leave you a tip."

She stopped and turned back to face me. I gave her a twenty. She said, "He is a very nice man."

"Your accent. You are Guatemalan?"

"From Guatemala City, yes." She lifted her chin a little. "But I have a green card. So does my husband."

"I am sure you do. And you have family in Guatemala?"

"My mother and three sisters, and their children."

I had moved to the bedside table. Opening the drawer, I said, "No father? Brothers? No men?"

"All dead, sir."

"I am sorry," I said, continuing my search of the room by looking in the trash can. "It is a very dangerous city."

"Yes. There is much crime."

"Well, it appears Mr. Brown was wrong. He left nothing here."

"Maybe those other two found it already."

"What other two?"

"The men from the consulate."

"Oh, of course. Antonio and Manuel. I am sorry I missed seeing them. That Antonio, he is so funny looking, the way he wears that big gold chain."

"You think that is funny? I like it. I was going to get one for my husband."

"What do I know about fas.h.i.+on? Your husband will undoubtedly be very handsome with your gift around his neck."

I pa.s.sed her at the door, then left the room.

Back down in the lobby, I found a room marked "Business Center" and used the pa.s.s card to enter. In the room were several computers and printers on built-in worktops, available for hotel guests. I sat at a computer, brought up the Internet and did a little surfing. I found the address for the Guatemalan consulate, then went back outside, where Teru stood leaning on the Porsche with his arms crossed and smoke rising from his pipe.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Vega's gone."

"I a.s.sume he didn't leave a forwarding address."

"Nope."

"Where should we start looking?"

"I have no idea. But the two guys who tried to kill me were here earlier. They might have a clue."

"Where would we find them?"

"They claimed they're with the Guatemalan consulate."

"So let's get over there."

"My thoughts exactly."

I gave Teru the address. We got back on the 405 and took it to the 10. We exited at Normandie Avenue and turned north, past Rosedale Cemetery on the right and Seoul International Park on the left. We turned left on Wils.h.i.+re.

The consulate was in a fifteen-story steel-and-gla.s.s building at the corner of South Ardmore. On the corner was something called the "Woori America Bank." I thought it was a strange address for them to choose, being in the middle of Koreatown, until I remembered that the next neighborhood to the east was Pico-Union. The government had picked a spot as close as they could get to the majority of the Guatemalan population in LA without having to expose themselves to the distasteful poverty and gangs that afflicted their people.

Teru dropped me at the curb across the street and drove on in search of a parking spot. I went inside and found suite 100.

There was a crest on the door, the same one I had seen a few blocks away in Pico-Union on the giant flag in the window of the Guatemalan Benevolence Society building. I wondered if the old men playing dominoes over there knew the Guatemalan government preferred an office here among Koreans rather than in their neighborhood.

I opened the door and entered a small room with chairs along two walls and a stack of Spanish-language magazines on a table in the corner. In the opposite corner was flag draped just so and hanging from a varnished wooden flagpole. Beside the flag was a modular work cubicle with a low countertop facing the room. In the cubicle sat a young woman in a tight red dress. She wore red lipstick to match the dress and large plastic hoop earrings, also red. The only thing missing was a hat with tropical fruit.

I considered telling her why I was there but decided that was unlikely to get me answers, so I just gave her my card and said, "I'm Malcolm Cutter, here to see the consul general."

She checked her computer. "Forgive me. Your name again?"

"Cutter. I don't have an appointment."

She knitted her brow and shook her head. "I'm sorry. You must make an appointment."

I said, "You speak English very well."

She smiled. "Thank you. Now, if there is nothing else?"

"Would you mention one thing to the consul general?"

"Probably not. He is a very busy man."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. Just pick up your phone and mention Valentin Vega's name. Also a failed attempt to murder me in the Santa Ana Mountains a few days ago. And while you're at it, let him know the man who was arrested yesterday for breaking into Congressman Hector Montes's house is standing in his lobby."

She stared at me. I flashed my most winning smile. Many women have reported weak knees and b.u.t.terflies in response to my smile, but the receptionist appeared to be immune. She simply continued to stare. There must have had a panic b.u.t.ton behind her desk somewhere, because two soldiers in uniform entered the reception area through an opening behind her, a corporal and a sergeant. They joined the receptionist in staring at me with deadpan expressions on their Indian features. Their hands rested on their sidearms.

I said, "And here I thought we were getting along so well."

She spoke Spanish to the soldiers. "Watch him closely. He could be an escaped criminal." I was amused that she seemed to a.s.sume I spoke no Spanish. It was like the j.a.panese businessmen. So many people seemed to underestimate me.

She picked up the telephone handset and pushed some b.u.t.tons. After a short pause she spoke into the phone, repeating what I had just said. She listened for a moment, said, "Yes, sir," and hung up.

She switched back to English. "Would you allow these men to search you for weapons?"

Since my gun and knife were in an Orange County evidence locker, I held my arms out to the side. "Sure."

The corporal stepped forward and frisked me. He said, "Nothing," and stepped back.

The woman stood and gestured toward the corridor. "This way, if you would."

The consul general was a small, clean-shaven man in a beige guayabera s.h.i.+rt. He had the cheekbones of an Indian and the eyes of a shark. He didn't rise behind his desk when I was escorted into his corner office. He looked up at me, then down at a paper in his hand, which he read silently for nearly a minute before he sighed grandly-presumably to indicate the enormous burden that he carried for his people-laid the paper on the desk, looked up at me again, and said, "Yes?"

I told him who I was and that I had been working for Valentin Vega. I told him why. I mentioned the two men who had followed me and tried to kill me. Then I told him about the home invasion and my arrest. I explained that it seemed possible Vega had planned to murder the congressman or else intimidate him into withdrawing his opposition to the URNG, using me as a scapegoat for the crime.

I said, "I'm guessing you want to get rid of Valentin Vega and get the URNG out of the way, but Vega's disappeared, so that just got a lot more difficult. I'm also guessing you didn't like it when I went to work for Vega, so you told your guys to follow me around and try to scare me off and kill me and so forth. As you can see, I'm very hard to kill, but it still offends me when people try to do it. Normally, I'd return the favor and come after you. But I think Vega set me up to take the fall for the Montes home invasion, so in this case our interests are the same. Why don't we stop stepping on each other's toes and work on this together?"

He stared at me with a puzzled expression. "These two men you describe, who claim they disappear people, they are not a.s.sociated with my government. Those days are far behind us now, and the evil men responsible for such atrocities are being brought to justice even as we speak."

I said, "Maybe I got it wrong. I did say it was only a guess on my part. But I a.s.sume Valentin Vega is of interest to you?"

"We are interested in him, certainly. He claims he is merely a politician now, and there are some in my government who find it convenient to forget his crimes during our civil war, but many others believe he bears the same guilt as the junta and should be brought to justice."

"I would like to help with that."

"In what way?"

I said, "While I understand and certainly believe you when you say the two men that I mentioned are not your a.s.sociates, I still a.s.sume your consulate makes it your business to know the whereabouts of prominent Guatemalan citizens when they visit this country. Only in order to protect them and serve them, naturally."

He nodded. "Naturally."

"So may I a.s.sume you have some idea where Valentin Vega is at this moment? And may I a.s.sume that it would be in your nation's interest if I were to find him and bring him to justice for his role in this terrible attack on Congressman Montes's wife?"

The consul general aimed his shark black eyes at me, saying nothing.

"Of course," I continued, "if you did a.s.sist me in locating Vega, and if I was successful in bringing him to justice, you would have the thanks of the American people, who would otherwise be outraged that such a criminal might enter our country from yours and treat a member of our government so shamefully. At least I believe that would be the reaction should the press learn what I know about this situation."

He continued to stare at me for a few more seconds; then he said, "Thank you for your visit." He picked up the paper and began to read again, and the sergeant put his hand on my shoulder, so I left the room.

Teru was waiting near the front doors of the office building when I emerged.

"So?" he said. "Did you get a clue?"

I said, "I don't know."

We walked a block to where he had parked the Porsche. We got in and drove to Newport. It took nearly an hour because rush-hour traffic had begun. We reached the gates at El Nido and stopped, waiting as they swung open. My cell phone rang. I put it to my ear and said, "h.e.l.lo."

I recognized the consulate receptionist's voice. She said, "12 Calle 9A 2-21, Zona 1, Vista Hermosa 1. That's in Guatemala City. Do you have all that?"

"Yes," I said, "Thank you very much," but she was already off the line.

34.

Simon stood on the lawn beside the driveway when we rolled up. He held his hands behind his back, the image of a proper butler. Teru parked, and Simon came forward to open the car door on my side, holding it as I unfolded myself from the Porsche.

I said, "How long have you been standing here?"

"Approximately one minute."

I turned to Teru. "Did you phone him before we left the consulate?"

"Nope," said Teru.

"Then how did he know we were coming?"

Teru shrugged.

I looked at Simon. "How did you know we were coming?"

Simon said, "One does strive to be prepared."

I shook my head. "You guys would make me nervous if you weren't on my side."

"If we were not on your side, anxiety would be wise," replied Simon.

Teru smiled.

I said, "I don't suppose you have another M11 handy? The OCSD kept mine."

"Enquires have been made; however, I regret to say a replacement sidearm will not be available until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."

Shaking my head, I walked toward the guesthouse. Teru and Simon fell in alongside me.

Simon said, "The authorities executed a warrant to search your residence last night."

"Teru already told me they searched my computer. Did they seem interested in anything else?"

"Unfortunately I was not allowed to observe their activities within the house; however, I was able to stand outside the residence and prepare an inventory of the items they removed. In addition to your computer, they removed some articles of clothing, which I took to be your soiled laundry."

I nodded. "Looking to match fibers from the Montes's house."

We were at the front door. I opened it and went inside. The place had been thoroughly tossed. Books from the shelves stood in piles on the floor. Contents of the kitchen cabinets were on the countertop. Sofa and chair pillows had been upturned.

I went straight across the living room to a burled-walnut Edwardian armoire in the corner. The mirrored door hung open. They had removed the stereo system from inside the armoire, stacking the components in front of it along with my collection of vinyl LPs. I moved some of the LPs out of the way, and dropped to the floor, and twisted my shoulder to reach into the s.p.a.ce beneath the lower-most shelf. I pressed on the bottom right corner of the armoire's back and heard a click as the panel came away. It was a relief to reach a little farther in and find the plastic baggie still there. I pulled it out.

The baggie contained seven pa.s.sports, seven driver's licenses, and seven pairs of credit cards in seven different names. Also five thousand dollars in used twenties and fifties.