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Kate hadn’t come all this way to hang out with tourists and expats at her hotel while the exchange went down without her. On the other hand, there was a reason her father’s kidnap and ransom insurance policy covered immediate family members.
“Just don’t park the car,” she said. “Circle the block. That’s the plan.”
“That’s a good plan,” said Diego, with a little more local insight.
Chapter 61
Peel’s driver stopped outside the entrance to Club Siloé. His bodyguard, Jaime, was beside him in the backseat.
“I don’t like this,” said Peel.
“We want a public place, so he doesn’t pull anything. But a five-star restaurant in Ciudad Jardín was a safer choice.”
Peel had the kidnapper’s number from their phone call on the jet. He dialed, was somewhat surprised to get an answer, and stated his position firmly.
“This location is not acceptable.”
“I can see you. Go inside.”
He’d assumed he was being watched, but until that moment, Peel hadn’t felt it. “I’m not going in.”
“Do I have to call Mr. Walker at the CIA?”
Technically, Walker wasn’t “at the CIA,” but that didn’t diminish the threat. “You wouldn’t do that,” said Peel.
“I definitely will. And he’d be very upset to learn what bullshit it is that Buck Technologies only does business with Western allies. Unless you think he considers China a friend.”
It could have been a bluff, as it wasn’t in the interest of the Chinese government to “out” someone like Peel, a secret source of data on foreigners. But Peel couldn’t take that risk. He had no choice but to fold.
“Ten minutes. In and out,” said Peel.
“Your table is under the name Cruz. Wait for me there.”
Not very imaginative of him to use the Spanish version of Smith, but Peel didn’t quibble. The call ended, and with a quick nod to histeam signaling “go,” the driver opened Peel’s door and his bodyguard whisked him inside.
Peel was no stranger to clubs of this sort, where naked young women worked on drunk businessmen, and the old song about a fool and his money was perpetually at the top of the charts. But it was his first time with only one bodyguard. It was risky behavior on his part, but it fed his macabre sense of curiosity to test the limits of what beautiful young women would do for money. Even more fun was to wager on it. “I’ll bet you fifty thousand dollars the blonde will drink the redhead’s urine for five hundred dollars.” Not that he would ever have sex with one of these dancers. For that, men like Javier hooked him up with women like Olga.
Javier, you should have stuck to business as usual.
“Table for Cruz,” he told the hostess.
“This way,” the young woman said.
It turned out that the pole-dancing lounge was a small part of the action. Peel and his bodyguard followed the hostess through a set of chrome-clad double doors that led to the heart and soul of Club Siloé.
A salsa band was playing onstage, and a parquet dance floor was packed with couples making it clear that Shakira wasn’t the only Colombian who could dance. Above the stage, stretching wall to wall, was an enormous rectangular meme of Leonardo da Vinci’sThe LastSupper, with whiskey replacing wine, and popular salsa musicians and their groupies replacing Jesus and His apostles. It was beloved by patrons, no doubt, but to Peel, this was art on the order of dogs playing poker. The hostess led them to a booth away from the band, a somewhat quieter section of the club where it was possible to have a conversation without shouting. She laid two menus on the table, and Peel checked the list of drinks.Cervezaswere on the left;tragosfuerteson the right. The words in bold across the top of the menu made him curious.
“Viva lavida,miraque sevay novuelve,” he read aloud in bad Spanish. “What does that mean, gorgeous?”
The hostess smiled. “No can sayeninglés.Your waitress comes soon.”
She left, and Peel put his bodyguard’s Spanish to the test. “Do you know what it means?”
“The literal translation loses it. Basically: ‘Live it up, ’cause, hey, life goes away and doesn’t come back.’”
Peel laid the menu aside, and his gaze drifted toward the empty seats for their guests. “Good advice,” he said.
Kate was on her second turn around the block. The plan was for Enrique to go inside the club and monitor the exchange while Kate and Diego circled Club Siloé. As the car stopped outside the club entrance, the voice of Peel’s bodyguard came through in real time over the car’s sound system, which was linked by Bluetooth to Diego’s cellphone.