Gretta hung up the phone and tossed the notepad she'd been consulting across the room in anger. Arny hadn't witnessed this behaviour before and he was reluctant to provoke any possible arguments by commenting. Instead he posed what he hoped would be a neutral subject.

"Think we should call the hospital and check on Chester?" She considered him for a moment with her fierce look and then it softened and Arny let out his breath.

"Good idea." She dialed the number and waited. The desk nurse was reluctant to give out information to non-relatives and when Gretta finally reached the hospital administrator, her mood was volatile again.

Chester was doing well, his vitals all within acceptable limits and his medicine regimen was proving effective. He would be able to travel safely by the end of the week. Gretta thanked him and hung the phone up with deliberate care, her breath streaming noisily through her nostrils.

"He okay?"

"Yes. He can travel by the end of the week."

"Two days . . . so what now?"

"I've phoned everyone I can think of who might know about false IDs and I've struck out. Either they didn't have any luck either or they have better connections than the Congress."

"Is that likely?"

"Who knows, these guys travel the world like going to the corner store. Anything's likely."

"What about the others in this thing? Can you get a lead on any of them?"

Gretta nodded appreciatively. "Good thought, Arny. We know there's at least four more . . . one a woman who I bet turns out to be Sophia Varga since it was Anton Varga we found minced in the gorge."

"That's a helluva word combination, Gretta." Arny made a face.

She grabbed the phone and began another round of calls, finally hanging up with a Cheshire Cat grin and eyes twinkling like stars.

"You will never guess what I just learned."

"You're right there. What?"

"In this very hotel are two North Americanos- male and female- and they checked in just yesterday."

"You're sure they aren't referring to us?" Arny rolled over on his back on the bed and flipped on the TV, zapping through several channels until he found one with local news.

"Give me some credit, Arny. One is British apparently."

"Jolly good."

She pressed a finger against her lips. Another quick call to the Congress confirmed that one Cyril Mumford took part in several operations with an Andrew Stork. "That's got to be him, Arny. Stork was the man in the hotel with Cavanaugh."

"You mean him?" Arny's face was a mask of concern as he pointed the remote at the TV. An attractive woman was imparting the latest developments in a hit and run on the Avenida de Placca where the battered body of a man identified as one Andrew Stork was discovered just a short time ago by a tour bus driver.

"Hit and run? How the hell would that work?" Gretta pounded her fist into her hand. "Our quarry is getting a little rough, Arny."

"Yes, and I think we should grab Chester and go home."

"Don't be silly, we've got a lead right here in the hotel. Besides, Chester can't travel yet."

"Whatever possessed me."

********

Jack walked quickly from the underground parking garage and crossed the dark street, checking behind him every few seconds as he made his way to the busier street that was considered a main drag in San Isidro. Cafes and entertainment centers flashed gaudy neon and the windows reflected the many colours of the lights and the crowds on the sidewalk. Jack slowed his pace, shifting the pack that was getting heavier with each step, to his other shoulder as he searched for some place to hole up while he made new plans.

Dumping the car hurt but he couldn't risk getting nailed for car theft, not that he believed Salvatore would report it, but the company would when he didn't return it. His thoughts turned to Sophia and where she might be, if she was alright. Losing her would be a shame but the load he was carting around would buy a lot of Sophias down the road. Thinking of down the road, Jack wondered about Stork and who was in the pursuit car.

He was sure it couldn't be Salvatore and the possibility that it might have been Gretta Lawrence was a jarring thought. He stopped under a hand-painted notice of rooms for rent held by a replica of an Incan native in full costume. It was on the main street but it was through an innocuous doorway with major distractions all around, making it fairly obscure. Jack went in and climbed the stairs.

********

Sophia turned and whispered frantically to Mumford that it was some woman at the door. He crossed the room and looked through the security lens in the door and cursed softly.

"Who is it?" Sophia asked, retreating to the center of the room.

"It can only be the woman I told you about, Gretta Lawrence."

"How can you be sure?"

"It's not a hotel maid, love. Trust me. It's her." He thought for a minute and then decided to take a chance and face her. Worst that could happen would be he'd have to kill her. Cyril held up his hand and calmly opened the door.

"Cyril Mumford?"

He appraised the tall, fit looking woman and mentally rated her high on his list of attractive females.

"May I ask who you are?" He said, barring the door.

"The accent's a giveaway, Cyril. We need to talk." She stepped forward and he instinctively stepped back, realizing too late that he had ceded his advantage. Gretta walked to the center of the room and smiled at Sophia. "You must be Mrs. Varga."

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sophia sought Cyril for support.

"Yes, an explanation for this intrusion is definitely in order." Cyril moved to a position near the door without seeming obvious.

"Where to begin," Gretta mused, studying them both. They seemed an unlikely combination and she wondered if there was an underlying hostage scenario playing out. "How about first I give my condolences for your husband. You must be devastated." Sophia flushed and raised her head defiantly. "And you, Cyril, losing an old friend must be weighing heavily on your shoulders as well."

"I didn't know her hus-"

"Oh, not Anton . . . Andy. Andy Stork." His mouth dropped and he shifted on his feet as if to prepare a jump. "Hit and run, I hear."

"I- I don't know what you're talking about, love."

"Of course not. Well, then how about the expedition to the silver mines? You certainly know about that." She directed her remark to Sophia.

"What about it?"

"Well, you and Jack Cavanaugh are the only survivors, at least you're the only one available."

At the mention of Jack's name they both gave a small start and Gretta mentally confirmed that somehow, Cyril had a hold over her and that he was trying to track Jack down.

"I- I didn't know Jack was still alive."

"Well he is. I've spoken to him as a matter of fact, he and Stork." She watched Cyril carefully as he seemed to flex and lick his lips.

"You've seen Jack! Where? Where is he?" Sophia's outburst swept away any doubt as to the relationship and it closed a few circles regarding the demise of the expedition. Sophia and Jack had their own little game going, Gretta verified.

"You know, don't you, Cyril?" He bared his teeth at her.

"You knew!" Sophia exclaimed.

"She's trying to get between us, love, don't let her."

"Maybe it was because you saw me there and didn't want me to see you."

"I don't understand. Where did he see you? What's she talking about?" Her questions flew between them.

"You know where, love, that's where we were going when he and Andy took off." He watched Gretta carefully as he moved closer to Sophia. "She's bluffing for information."

Gretta faced Cyril, her own body tensing for the anticipated attack and when it came, she stepped to the side and levered him by the back of the head into the opposite wall. Plaster dust flew from the impact and a large crack appeared like a lightening bolt from Cyril's head before he slid silently to the floor.

"You've killed him!"

"I don't think so but we should get out of here before he comes to. I didn't think you'd care."

"I don't, but up to now he was my only chance to find Jack." Gretta huffed in surprise as Sophia aimed a large pistol at her and waved her from the room.

"What do you think that will accomplish?"

"Compliance and obedience. Move. Up to your room."