The Mountain

"This horse have a story?" I asked.

"My uncle has ranch," Emilio explained, "it is his grandson that produces the sculptures. He modeled that after his horse, Tempestad, just before he was put down." I looked at the picture again.

"How big is it?"

"About a foot from head to tail," Emilio replied, holding his hands about a foot apart.

"If he adds a write up in English about the horse and affixes some kind of signature or logo, this is very sellable," I said, "the more pieces he can develop like this, the better. The abstract stuff I can't really move. It needs an art gallery."

"How much would something like the horse sell for?" Emilio asked, his interest at a new height.

"With the additions I mentioned," I paused as I thought, "maybe three grand a piece, the artist would get a third of that." I watched Emilio's eyes widened. He shifted his body, facing more toward me.

"Would your firm be interested?"

"We could be, if we could be assured of a certain volume."

"It takes him a week or so per sculpture and his brother had started learning," Emilio added.

"A play on the family thing always works well," I added, "a family crest can increase value and create word-of-mouth."

"Do you have a card Mr. Bennett?" Emilio asked. I pulled my card out of my pocket and handed it over. Emilio snapped his finger at one his shadows and the man produced a card. Emilio took it and added something on the back with a pen.

"This is my private number," Emilio instructed, "you can get me anytime night or day. If you make a deal with my cousin, I will make sure he honors it." I took his card and glanced at the front.

"Colonel Campos?" I said with some surprise. He smiled at me.

"I can also help with export issues," Emilio said with a chuckle. I read a lot into that statement. I wondered if I would have more issues if his cousin wasn't offered a contract.

"I think this might work out well," I said. My phone rang before I could continue. It was Tamara. She knew I was on layover and I had forgotten to check in. "Excuse me a moment," I apologized. Emilio nodded with a smile. I stood and walked to the other side of the room to answer.

"Hello," I said in Armenian.

"You not call," Tamara responded. I could hear the relief in her voice.

"Sorry."

"Okay," Tamara continued, "you check plane?" I tried not to laugh. One crash and she thought I should do a once over on all planes.

"Plane is okay," I said, trying not to let the humor through.

"You check," Tamara insisted. She heard the humor. She knew my tone better than I did. I think we could just hum to each other and get meaning from it.

"Okay," I said with seriousness, "I love you."

"I love you," Tamara added, "You check plane. You come back." I could feel her apprehension and looked over at the Colonel. I wondered if anyone had it out for him. We said goodbye as best we could. My Armenian was improving, but the phone made it difficult. I walked up to the counter and spoke to the attendant.

"Ahh," I stuttered trying to think of a good way to put it, "is there some kind of inspection performed on the plane before take-off?" The attendant looked at me confused. The request was a bit heavy for her English. I turned to Emilio.

"This may seem a strange request," I hesitated, "but I wonder if you can ask if they inspect the plane before take-off. My fiancée is worried I might have a repeat of an incident. Not that I expect one, but I don't want to lie to her."

"You had a bad flight?" Emilio asked. I spent the next few minutes explaining the crash, my fiancée, daughter, and the suspicions as to the cause. Emilio listened intently, and I noticed his shadows' interest as well.

Emilio turned to the shadow behind him and rattled off some Spanish, a command about inspecting the plane much more thoroughly than I intended. The shadow jumped and moved out the door quickly.

"I would like an inspection as well," Emilio said with a smile, "I never question a woman's intuition. So you met your future wife in a plane crash. That is a wonderful story for your grandchildren. My wife and I met at a dance. Not nearly as romantic, but I did accidently tear her dress."

"No," I said with surprise, "you rip a woman's dress, and she married you."

"I was her ride home," Emilio continued, "I was young and so excited that such a beautiful woman would let me escort her. I closed the car door too soon and ruined her dress." He laughed as he thought about it. "She yelled at me like I had run over her pet or something. It was her passion that thrilled me. It took me two weeks just to get her to speak to me again. I think the struggle made me want her all the more."

Emilio and I spoke for a while. I found out he attended UCLA for a degree in geology before he joined the Peruvian special police. He traveled around the states when he could and even visited Chicago once. He started the conversation with me because he wanted to keep up his English skills. He didn't like losing what had taken him so long to gain.

The shadow came back and had a heated conversation with Emilio. I could see the Colonel appear in Emilio's stature and words. Commands flowed, and both shadows took off to complete the tasks. Emilio grabbed his phone and made a call. His tone was not pleasant, and I could make out enough to know that something was wrong with the plane.

"Tamara...is it?" Emilio asked. I nodded, "It looks like Tamara has saved you. And me in the process." I could see his shoulders straightening. He had a strong authority about him. "They have found a device on the plane. Some kind of improvised explosive."

"Shit!" I commented. The odds of this happening to me twice were astronomical.

"Appropriate word," Emilio continued, "my men are searching for the mechanic who worked on the plane this morning." He looked at me with steel eyes, "I would not want to be him today."

"This can't be happening twice," I said.

"I have enemies," Emilio admitted, "you seem to have bad luck picking traveling companions." He paused for a moment, then gave me the bad news. "I am shutting down the airport. I am sorry, but a bomb on a plane forces my hand. Every plane must be inspected now."

"That makes sense," I said. Only an idiot would consider it isolated.

"I would like to offer you my home for the night." Emilio's manner changed back to cordial. "I can offer a good meal and we could talk more over a glass of wine."

"Maybe a cousin could drop by," I said with a smile.

"Yes," Emilio replied as he laughed, "we must find our silver linings where we can.."

"I would be honored," I agreed. It was a much better idea than trying to find hotel and eating by myself. I enjoyed talking with Emilio, and his political power couldn't hurt.

I would classify Emilio's home as more of an estate. It had a high brick fence surrounding the property and an automatic gate for entry. The grounds were immaculate. Every bush and tree trimmed professionally. The house itself was a modern example of Spanish colonial architecture. A breathtaking example.

The dinner was excellent and Emilio's wife, Florencia, was as beautiful as he had indicated. With that beauty came an air of sophistication that she tampered down when she noticed how familiar Emilio and I were. Her English was good, so I was able to include her in the conversation. It was a very pleasant evening.

Emilio's cousin, Alejandro, joined us for dessert. He was a young man whose grasp of English was equivalent to my skills with Spanish. We mostly spoke through Emilio and Florencia. He brought the horse along with pictures of other non-abstract work. Each modeled after a physical structure, be it animal or building. Looking at them as a set, they were a good representation of Peru. Our clients loved to be worldly and paid dearly to do it with class.

I explained the marketing necessities and harped on the need to embellish but not lie. My customers had a tendency to take trips to verify their acquisitions and see if they could get more on the cheap. A lie would spread like wildfire and destroy an artist quicker than a bullet to the head. I promised to send samples of logos, crests, and history copy so that they could put something together. I also agreed to draw up a contract if he could meet the criteria. Alejandro was ecstatic. I had a sense that his family had looked down at his art, and I was his shining moment in the spotlight.

The guest room was beyond anything a hotel could offer. Emilio enjoyed his luxury and didn't spare it for the guests. My room had its own patio, which I enjoyed while I called Tamara. She was so relieved I didn't get on that plane. I suffered a few I-told-you-sos and assured her I had a high ranking official helping me deal with the issue. I made her tell me about her and Melina's day to change the subject. Tamara emphasized that Melina missed me almost as much as she did. She didn't enjoy me traveling without her. Maybe she feared I would get stranded with another woman.

I slept quite well tucked into the Egyptian cotton sheets.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I was sipping coffee, having showered and changed, when Emilio joined Florencia and I in the kitchen. She had been grilling me about Tamara, wanting to get the details about how we met. I suspect Emilio had only touched on the surface of it.

"We found the mechanic last night," Emilio said, "we convinced him to be talkative." I tried to ignore what that meant. I also decided I would play on the up and up with Emilio and his family. Only the truth and no false promises. "I was surprised to find out his payment came from America." Emilio paused, "my enemies are here and lack foreign connections. I rather hope they haven't internationalized their hatred."

I waited for Emilio to continue. I didn't want to insinuate something about the drug trade since he had never told me who his enemies were. He seemed the type to bend a law or two, but never break it out right. Maybe he didn't bend enough when drug money was at stake.

"The man was foolish, thinking we Peruvians can't trace wire transfers. Or maybe the account holder isn't aware the funds were transferred. He could be a patsy." Emilio was rubbing his chin as he thought out loud. "Either way, I have contacted your FBI, and they have agreed to look into it. They don't like bombs on planes any more than we do." Florencia handed Emilio a cup of coffee, and he sat down.

"Are you going to open the airport today?" I asked, sipping my coffee. If he didn't, I hoped he would let me stay another day. I would have liked a tour of the grounds. It was almost like a botanical garden.

"It is already open," Emilio replied, tipping his cup to me, "I have a plane waiting to take us to Ayacucho," he smiled as he spoke, "for Tamara's sake, it is under guard until we take off." I laughed as if it was silly. Secretly I was deeply thankful.

"I'll mention it to Tamara," I said, tipping my cup to him.

"Next time you visit, you should bring her," Florencia said, and Emilio quickly agreed. I had friends in high places. And they made damn good coffee.

The ride to the airport was interrupted by a call for Emilio. He changed to his Colonel's voice, so I knew it was work. It was obvious it had to do with the bomb though my grasp of Spanish made it difficult to understand the one-way conversation. My face must have gone ghost white when I recognized a name I didn't expect to hear. Emilio looked at me, and I could tell the pieces were quickly falling into place for him as well. He ended the call and switched to English as easily as breathing.

"Doug Finley is your partner?" Emilio asked. I nodded as the round peg found the round hole. "I am not his target, am I?" The bile in my stomach began to rise. The young boy, Mikhail's brother, and pilot I never knew. Doug was trying to kill me.

"Fuck!" I yelled, slamming the side of my fist into my leg.

"I think he is after you, my friend," Emilio said with some regret. The image of Mikhail's brother, half his face missing flooded my mind. My hand was shaking in more anger they I had felt in years. He almost killed Tamara. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"Reciprocal life insurance," I growled, "the bastard wants the business and the five million. God help me, I going to kill him first." Emilio's hand covered mine.

"No, my friend," Emilio said calmly, "we are going to make sure he comes back to Peru. We have an extradition treaty with the U.S. and the crime was on our soil."

"And Azerbaijani's," I added.

"That may be more problematic," Emilio said, "I have evidence and from what you have told me, they do not, or do not wish to pursue it."

"He killed people!" I said.

"Does it matter if he rots in my prison or theirs?" Emilio said. I saw a glimmer in his eye. Doug might have been after me, but Emilio was to be on the same plane. It was as personal to him as it was to me. "He will find Peru a very uncomfortable place."

"There are fates worse than death," I added grimly.

"See, you understand." Emilio smiled. I again wondered what Emilio was capable of. When it came to Doug, I no longer cared. The worse, the better. Doug owed the world three lives and a year of my rehabilitation. "I have the mechanic's testimony and the wire transfer, and you have the motive. I can make sure the courts are not forgiving."

"I need to fly to Chicago," I said. Emilio nodded.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I walked into F&B Imports a little disheveled from the two flights I took to get back to Chicago. Betty Crawford looked up from her desk in surprise and instantly stopped what she was doing.

"Mr. Bennett," Betty said with excitement, "I didn't know you were coming in this morning. I thought you were in Peru." Betty ran the place. She was a single mother with the last of three kids just entering high school. She has worked with us for over seven years. Every company has that key employee, the one that could only be replaced if you hired three other people. Betty was our irreplaceable.

"Good morning Betty," I said, my smile defying my intent, "is Doug in?"

"Yes, he came in early," Betty replied, "I heard you were getting married. The girl you crashed with." A dreamy look took over her face as she continued. "That's so romantic." I didn't want to quash her dreams, so I let her go on believing the time on the mountain was more like a vacation.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," I said with a smile, "you'll have to meet Tamara one of these days."

"I look forward to it," Betty said honestly.

"I need to have a private talk with Doug," I said, losing my smile, "you may want to take a break. Maybe refresh that cup of coffee." I watched Betty's face change as she began to realize I wasn't happy.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Bennett?"

"Yes," I said, remaining calm, "and you don't want to be part of it."

"Is this something to do with the missing money?" Betty asked, her eyes darting to her desk and back, "I'm sure it's just an error. I'm going over the books again."

"How much is missing?" I asked as the new revelation widened my eyes. Betty became hesitant.

"Mr. Finley didn't tell you?"

"Mr. Finley has not been forthcoming lately," I said, trying not to make it sound as ominous as it felt.

"A little over 35 thousand," Betty almost stuttered, "but I'm sure it is just a clerical error. I've made some mistake; I just have to find it." I could almost feel Doug's greed from where I stood. Emilio never told me how much the mechanic was paid. I wondered if Betty had just told me what my life was worth.

"Leave it for now," I said, forcing a smile on my face, "I'm sure we'll figure it out. Why don't you get a cup of coffee and let me discuss it with Doug."

"Mr. Bennett, I don't want to be the cause..."

"Betty, this has nothing to do with you," I interrupted, "and I don't think you made an error." Betty's eyes widened as the implications crossed her mind. "Please, you don't want to be here right now," I added, indicating the door with my eyes. Betty rose, hesitantly grabbed her coffee cup, then headed out the door in silence.

I took a deep breath, steeled my resolve, and entered Doug's office without knocking.

"Jonathan!" Doug exclaimed. My entrance had startled him greatly. That I was alive probably had him pissing his pants. I kept a false smile on my face as I approached his desk.

"Decided to return early," I said, holding out my hand as I neared. Doug rose to shake my hand. His eyes still twitching in surprise. When I approached close enough, I retracted my hand and thrust my fist into his face. There was a mountain of anger behind that sucker punch. I had no desire that the fight be fair. I could hear the cartilage in his nose collapse as my knuckles tried to find the back of his skull. His knees buckled as his arms flailed upward.

"That's for a boy whose name I don't even know," I yelled. Images of the child flying from Tamara's arms fueled more rage. I drove the next punch into Doug's unprotected stomach, just below the ribs. I could hear the air forced from his lungs. Doug dropped to his knees gasping for air.

"A pilot, someone you didn't even know," I screamed as I brought my fist around with everything I had, catching him in his ear and driving him to the ground.

"Mikhail's brother," I added to the list as Doug withered on the floor. The thought of Tamara dead on a mountainside entered my mind. I could feel myself lose it as began kicking Doug's prone body. I had an insane desire to see him suffer unimaginable pain.

"Mr. Bennett!" Betty screamed. I stopped mid-kick. Doug was motionless at my feet, not even moaning anymore. My heart was beating so hard; I wasn't even sure it wouldn't burst. I turned to Betty with unbidden tears in my eyes.

"He put a bomb on my plane," I stammered, "he killed three people trying to get to me."

"Oh God!" Betty said, covering her mouth with her hand. She started backing away as if I were insane. At that moment, I believed I was. I moved to Doug's desk and sat heavily in the chair.

Two men in blue windbreakers appeared behind Betty. The jackets had a gold image of a badge over the left breast.

"Mr. Doug Finley?" the man on the right asked. I sighed and pointed to the Doug on the ground next to the desk. The two men moved quickly once they noticed Doug's prone form.

"Please move over there, Sir," One of the men said, pointing to the far corner of the office. I rose and moved as ordered, my heart finally starting to slow.

"What's going on?" Betty cried. She was an emotional wreck. I would have preferred she would have stayed gone for a few more minutes.

"What is your name?" The taller of the two men asked me as his partner checked on the condition of Doug.

"Jonathan Bennett?" I replied, "the one he tried to kill." I pointed at Doug.

"He's alive," the other man said, "we're going to need an ambulance."

"I'm agent Moretti, U.S. Marshal's office," the taller man said, "we have a warrant for Mr. Finley's arrest." He was informing Betty as well as me. Betty was in shock, leaning against the door as the scene unfolded. "Do you mind telling me why he is in this condition?" I took a shallow breath and lied.

"I confronted him about a bomb on my plane," I answered, forcing my body to relax, "he came at me, and I defended myself." Moretti nodded as his partner handcuffed the unconscious Doug.

"Do you think his explanation of events will differ from yours?" Moretti asked. His partner rose from Doug and retrieved a handheld radio from his hips as he walked out of the room.

"Probably," I admitted, "but he kills people. I suspect he lies as well." I was surprised on how easy it was to wrap my crime, justified as I thought it was, in a web of deceit. I would have made a good criminal. I could hear the other agent requesting an ambulance over the radio. Betty was still shaking near the door.