“Knock on every door in San Antonio. Check every hotel between here and the border. Someone must have seen a nun and a gringo in military gear traveling together.”
“It’s possible,Jefe, that they’ve gotten help—that someone is hiding them or driving them to Colombia.”
Luis thought his head would explode. “You’re just thinking of this now? I am surrounded by idiots. Of course, someone is helping them! My brother-in-law, the stupidmalparido, has made many enemies.”
Why his sister had married the bastard, Luis couldn’t say. He seemed to delight in humiliating Luis. The longer this dragged out, the higher the chance that his brother-in-law would take notice from his presidential palace and drag Luis through the mud.
“Listen, Mono.” Luis placed a controlling hand on Mono’s shoulder. “I don’t care how many people you have to drag out of their cars. I don’t care who you have to kill. Find the nun and that bastard commando—and quickly.”
“I think you should increase the reward money,Jefe. The US government could be paying people, too, and they have a lot to offer.”
Luis stared at hissicario,heat burning his face at the idea of the United States paying people to betray their country. “Where does the reward stand now?”
“Ten thousand dollars US.”
“Make it twenty.”
Mono looked unimpressed. “Sí, Jefe.”
“What? Is that not good enough?”
“How badly do you want to find them? That is how much you offer.”
“Make it fifty.” Mono started to speak again, but Luis cut him off. “Make it fifty for now—and I will think about it.”
“Sí.” Mono frowned. “What I don’t understand is why the nun went with him. Wouldn’t she want to get back to the Mission? Why would she flee her own country?”
“He abducted her. Didn’t we already discuss that?”
Ten thousand US dollars was a fortune for most Venezuelans these days. And still, no one had given them up. HisGuachimaneshadn’t found them either.
What if they have already crossed into Colombia?
If they had, Luis’ chance to redeem himself would be lost. He would be remembered not as the man who took millions from the US, but as the bastard who’d abducted gringos—and had them stolen away from beneath his nose by US special forces. Not that he had proof they were from the US, but what else could they be?
His men had studied photos of the helicopter and tried to trace its origin but had come up with nothing. Photos of the soldier in the street had proved useless, too, his face concealed by goggles, nothing on his uniform to show he was from the US. Without the man as a prisoner, Luis had no victory, nothing to show his brother-in-law.
As for Sister María Catalina, Mono had asked a good question. If Luis was wrong, if the gringo bastard hadn’t abducted her, why was she still with him? Had she chosen dick over Jesus? Or was she a prisoner?
Luis decided to talk to the one person who might have answers. He picked up his phone, called Father Alberto at the Mission. “Tell me about Sister María Catalina.”
“Have you still not found her?”
“No, but we are close,” Luis lied. “What do you know about her?”
“She was quiet, submissive, prayerful. She worked hard and rarely said a word. She came to us from a very strict convent in Peru because she wanted to help her people. The Reverend Mother there was very taken with her and sad to see her leave.”
“I know she stayed in touch with the Reverend Mother. Pitón even let her send a letter.” Luis went back to his question. “She must have family here.”
“I was under the impression they’d all died or left the country.”
“Is there any chance she saw something while she was at the Mission? Could she have known what was in those trucks?”
“I don’t see how she could have. I keep all the Sisters indoors when the trucks are unloaded. You know that.” Father Alberto was quiet for a moment. “But if she did, perhaps the DEA wants her as a witness.”
And it all made sense.
The US government believed she knew something and wanted to use her to get an arrest warrant for Luis.