He didn’t have to say anything else. The bleeding bodies on the deck finished his threat. The boat backed away from the pipe, and was quickly lost in the darkness, disappearing into the gloom.
Omar said, “I cannot believe you killed those two men that swiftly. I was still wondering what we were going to do with them, and when I looked again, they were dead.”
The Ghost said, “I didn’t enjoy it. Your sloppy plan is what caused it to be necessary. It’s why I’m in charge of this mission.”
Omar looked at him with new eyes and nodded his head.
Omar glanced back out over the water, trying to see the boat and failing. He said, “What I don’t understand is why Cyrus didn’t tell us about this change of payment. What is he doing?”
Chapter 43
Jennifer paid the cabbie in pesos, tipping him handsomely. He took the money and smiled at the largesse, saying, “Gracias, gracias. Enjoy.”
Shoshana opened the door on the other side of the cab and the driver seemed to pause, considering the tip he’d been given. He turned back around and, speaking in broken English, offered advice, saying, “This is a good place for visiting. Lots of shopping and food, but don’t stay long past sundown, yes? You understand?”
Jennifer said, “Why?”
“Is no good in the dark for two women. Understand? Yes?”
Shoshana said, “We’ll be okay. Thanks for the advice.”
He nodded and smiled, saying, “Good place in daytime. Good place in daytime.”
Jennifer watched the cab drive away and said, “What’s up with that?”
Shoshana glanced around them, seeing a colorful array of buildings, all painted in bright pastels, some with balconies adorned with cartoonish mannequins, giving the entire area a festive atmosphere. She pointed at the walls between the buildings, the tranquil decorations belied by the thick rows of razor wire nailed to the top and said, “Apparently this area hasn’t completely forsaken its seedy past.”
The shop from the maté credit card receipt was on a street called El Caminito in the barrio of La Boca. Originally overrun with tenement housing for workers at the old port nearby, La Boca was still a poor workingman’s area, but El Caminito was a pedestrian walkway that thrived on tourism.It was a single block full of artisan shops, tango dancers, and overpriced restaurants, each painted garish colors and festooned with balconies housing oversized statues of famous people like Eva Perón and Che Guevera, the grinning figures looking down on the patrons walking by reminding Jennifer of an old carnival funhouse.
Earlier in the day, Pike had ordered the team to pack up and leave Puerto Iguazú as soon as the Oversight Council meeting had ended. During the planning on the flight down it was decided to approach the storefront first and simply ask for the credit card number, offering a bribe if necessary. If that failed, they’d go to stage two and consider more clandestine approaches, up to and including a B&E of the storefront.
After batting around ideas, Pike had determined that a female might have better luck than a male, as the store clerk would have less suspicion of something nefarious, so Jennifer and Shoshana had been selected.
The cab had dropped them off at the entrance to the pedestrian street, and Jennifer hefted the bag holding the maté kit from the hotel, saying, “I guess we just start asking around. The shop’s in there somewhere.”
They entered the promenade and simply walked its length once, getting accosted by aggressive restaurateurs and souvenir vendors along the way, but failed to see a storefront with the name from the receipt. They reached the end, finding a wall between them and the street beyond, and turned around.
Jennifer said, “I didn’t see anything like an address on anything, never mind the name of a store. Got any ideas?”
Shoshana said, “Did you see that flea market halfway down? It held a bunch of different shops. That might be it.”
Jennifer agreed, and they returned the way they’d come, stopping at the entrance of what looked like a saloon from an old Hollywood western, a large sign above it in Spanish, the only English words proclaiming, “Flea Market.”
Jennifer pushed through the swinging doors and was astonished to find a large open-air courtyard, both sides lined with two stories ofstores and cafés and jammed with shoppers. She took a moment to survey the area and realized the market was refurbished from one of the old tenement worker housings, with each room converted to a different shop.
Shoshana said, “I’ll take the left, you take the right. We’ll do the downstairs first, and if we don’t find it, go to the upstairs balconies.”
Jennifer nodded and went to the right side of the courtyard. She’d made it only to two shops, one selling T-shirts, the other pottery, when her phone vibrated. She saw a text saying, “Found it.”
She looked across the courtyard and saw Shoshana wave. She scurried across, and Shoshana said, “Take a look through the window.”
Jennifer did and saw a wall stocked with maté kits. She pulled out the one from the hotel and said, “Yeah, same kit. Hopefully these things aren’t made in China and everyone’s selling the same crap.”
Shoshana smiled and entered the shop. They threaded through the patrons and went straight to the checkout counter, seeing a female of about twenty-five behind a register. To her left, sitting on a stool and playing with a smartphone, was an older male with a face pockmarked from what looked like childhood acne. Shoshana remained quiet, letting Jennifer go through her rehearsed speech.
Jennifer said, “Excuse me, I’m hoping you can help us.” The woman nodded, and Jennifer held up her maté kit, saying, “My husband bought this for me, and I think he got it here.” She passed across the receipt and said, “Is this your store?”
The lady took the receipt, then looked apologetic, saying, “I’m sorry, there are no returns. All sales are final.”
