Cavanaugh leaned back and patted his stomach with self-satisfaction. "Now that was good meal. I always said these little no name places were the best value."

Stork tipped his mug of cervesa up to his lips and polished it off with a loud smack of his lips. "Sure beats field rations any day."

"A cigar would go nice about now. You got any?"

"Nope. This and a bit o' dust are my only vices."

Jack sat forward again. "What, no women?"

"That's not a vice, Jack, you should know that." The insinuation hit its mark and Jack's expression darkened. "How was the lovely Mrs. Varga anyway?"

"Firmly married to Anton . . . or was." He felt his pleasure from the meal waning.

"Not really an obstacle to Two Gun Jack Cavanaugh." Stork needled.

"Drop it, Andy."

"Well now, mate, I have to consider it I'm afraid. You see I know how Sophia Varga operates too and I suspect the two of you had plans that went well beyond just running off from old Anton with your pack of loot."

"The operative word, Andy. Had."

"Hmmm, right, Jacko. We're the lovers now, eh?"

"An ugly picture, Andy. A very ugly picture." He pushed back from the table. "I'm going to get a cigar from the desk, be right back."

"I'll be watching for you, Jacko."

Jack strode through the small dining room out to the cramped lobby where a skinny, big-eared native jumped to attention, grinning, his throat a pitiful stem protruding from the collar of the oversized white shirt.

"Quiero un puro, por favor."

"Si, senor." He disappeared below the counter and popped back up again with a long slender cigar, dark green in colour.

"¿Cuánto"

"For the senor, it is free." The grin spread to obscene proportions and Jack dropped several pesos on the counter.

"Gracias." He rolled the cigar around his lips as he walked back toward the dining room and stopped short, stepping quickly behind a curtain partition. Out on the street, through the dusty lobby window he saw the figure of a person he'd seen only once before but by whom he was mightily impressed.

Jack hurried back to the table and poked Stork on the back. "We gotta get outta here, pronto."

"What's the matter?" Stork grabbed his hat and jumped up, following Jack across the room to a side door and over the objections of a waiter, who abruptly shut up when treated to a handful of pesos, out into a side alley.

"Hope this isn't a ploy, Jacko." Stork rested his hand on the butt of his gun.

Jack went to the corner and peered around then slipped back. "You familiar with the CIA?"

Stork's eyebrows rose. "The CIA?"

"Not the CIA, the Congress of International Antiquities?"

"Ohh, them. Sure, a bunch of pipe smoking tweed jackets that sit around clucking over the state of their historical imperative. Why?"

"They're not all pipe smoking tweed jackets. Ever heard of Gretta Lawrence?"

"She's an agent for the Congress, that's all I know. Never had the pleasure."

"Well if we don't make tracks you just might and it won't be a pleasure from what I've heard."

Stork stood by the window watching the street. Jack had given him a brief history of Gretta Lawrence and his suspicions as to why she was suddenly in San Isidro and in this section of town and he was more than concerned to have two different factions on their trail.

"How would she have found us here . . . if she did."

"We all use the same networks around the world, Andy. She probably sussed out some local who caught wind of us in town."

"But why, what can she know about us?"

Jack joined him by the window and looked down. "No idea, but I think we're about to find out." Stork pushed his face against the glass trying to follow the passage of the woman crossing into the front door of their hotel. "Want to meet her or do you want to split?" He grinned.

"Meet her? Are you bonkers?" He left the window and grabbed up his belongings. "We split."

"Take it easy. Even if she knows we're here, so what? She has no authority over anything. The Congress is an archeological aid society not a police force." He surprised himself with the sudden dose of confidence.

"But she could call the coppers."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Jack waved him down into a chair. "Relax, Andy, I'll handle Miss Lawrence if it's necessary."

********

Mumford entered the upholstery shop and leaned on the counter after pinging the service bell. The man came through the curtain from the back and his eyes grew wide in recognition.

"Senor Mumford! A genuine surprise!"

"I'm sure. How has business been, old boy?"

"Aah you know, senor. A little here, a little there." His smile faded. "You didn't come to have a seat covered."

Cyril laughed. "No, but you might say I came to cover my ass. Two Americanos, old boy. What have you heard?"

"You too-?" The man closed his mouth.

"Me too? Me too what, old boy?"

"No- nothing, senor. I jus- I . . . "

Cyril reached across and took a handful of shirtfront and pulled the slight man up onto the counter. "Me- too- what?"

He left the shop in hurry, revving the engine of the rental car and racing away at tire screeching speed. Sophia had sworn she would behave and wait in the room until he returned and he had agreed even though he felt she was being just a little too cooperative. The car slammed over the potholed road, rattling the frame and jarring his teeth.

He slewed onto the highway in a shower of gravel and sped toward San Isidro. Surquillo wasn't that far as the crow flew from San Isidro, the problem was, Cyril wasn't a crow and he had to follow the circuitous route through the maze of barriadas that mushroomed in the desert-like southern part of the country.

********

Gretta leaned in the doorway and perused the two occupants with interest. The clerk had surrendered their room number without a fuss and after pressing Arny back into the jeep with an admonition to behave she'd climbed the worn stairs to the top floor and knocked on the door of the room where she now stood.

"Your reputation precedes you, Miss Lawrence." Jack lounged comfortably, tipped back on a wooden chair, his boots maintaining his balance on the end of the bed. Stork sat cross-legged at the head, one hand under the pillow where he fingered the trigger of his gun.

"You have the advantage, Mister . . . ?"

"Cavanaugh. Jack Cavanaugh."

"Aah, like James Bond, eh?" She smiled and looked at Stork. "And you must be who, M?"

"Amusing little bird, eh Jacko?"

Gretta straightened up and pointed. "Stork. You are Andy Stork."

His face grew dark and he gripped the gun tighter. "And just how might you know that?"

"The shape of your ears. How do you think, mate?" She said with an exaggerated accent.

Jack laughed and pushed himself upright, the chair hitting the floor with a thump. "That was pretty good, Miss Lawrence. You caught old Andy there to a tee."

"All through playin' footsie are we? What do want here?"

"I want to ask Jack here what happened to the expedition to the silver mines."

"And this concerns you how?"

"C'mon, Jack, you know who I work with. All these connections to the world's ancient treasures concern the Congress." She let her eyes track over the colourful backpack by his chair.

"Aah yes, the Congress. What was it you called them, Andy, pipe smoking tweed jackets?"

Gretta smiled and showed it to Stork. "I might almost agree."

"Well I can see now that not all of them smoke pipes." Stork relaxed again and leaned back against the headboard.

"So, what happened, Jack? The authorities are all in knots over the discovery of Arno Bandotti and the slaughter of the villagers outside Obenteni."

"I think I'll leave all the questions to the authorities if it should come to that." He tipped his chair back again and rested his boots on the bed.

"Oh it will, Jack. I'm working with Captain Warez in Cerro de Pasco, he is extremely upset over the villagers."

The gun came from under the pillow and aimed at Gretta and she turned her head and gave Stork a bland stare. "That was your work was it? The village?"

"Pretty birds that can't stop singing soon lose more than their voices." He slid off to the far side of the bed and stood pointing the gun in her direction.

"Gee, Jack, your partner isn't much fun, is he?" Still smiling, Gretta kicked out, upsetting Jack's chair and sending crashing backwards onto the floor. Stork looked at him and in that split second, she launched herself across the bed, slamming the gun from his hand with a vicious chop and springing up to her feet with a knee firmly planted in his groin.

Stork groaned, his eyes rolled up and he settled like a melted candle at her feet. Jack stopped mid motion, his fingers inches from the handle of his gun, as Gretta loosely pointed Stork's gun at him.

"I must say, Miss Lawrence, you are as good as they say."

"They being?"

"Well, among others from now on, poor old Andy there. Each time he sits down for a while, your skills will enter the conversation."

"I'm flattered. How about the expedition, Jack, did you wipe the lot out and make off with the goods?"

"Please. Kill eight people and then carry everything myself?"

"So not all died."

"Gretta . . . may I call you Gretta? Andy here came with another team as a follow up for Sebastian Bonnaro; it was that bunch, including old Andy here, that did the village. They also caught Anton Varga and his wife and I imagine they suffered the same fate after revealing the location of the mine."

"Jack, you're so pure in all of this. How is that?"

"Anton killed the rest of the team and threatened his wife as well. I took off when he went so crazy."

"Empty handed." Jack just stared, guilt stuck on his face like a mudpack. "Somehow, Jack, I don't see Andy breaking ranks and joining you because of your good looks."

As if on cue, Andy moaned and rolled over into a fetal position and Gretta came back around the bed to the doorway. She studied Jack for a moment and then shrugged.

"Okay then, I guess I'll make my report toCaptain Warez and he'll be on you like dew on the grass." She tossed thegun on the bed out of his reach and smiled goodbye.