Elora kept an eye on the young woman sitting in her underwear across the room from where Christopher held Carlos by one arm behind his back. Carlos couldn't believe what had happened. He couldn't begin to imagine how they'd found him.

"Did you really think I would just throw up my hands and forget sixty-seven million dollars?"

"I was going to contact you when things at the bank settled down."

Chris jerked his arm up and Carlos yelped in pain. "That is so much bullshit, Carlos. They didn't even know anything about it, and don't deny it, I checked."

"Just get the information." Elora said. "Forget the convairsation." She looked back at the frightened woman and blinked her reassurance.

"She's right, Carlos. The money."

"I can't do anythi—"

The front door burst open and the two men jumped into the room waving automatic weapons. The young woman screamed and before Elora could even react they were both stitched with a round of gunfire that sent them sprawling on the hard tile floor. Christopher shoved Carlos aside and dug into his coat for his own gun and managed to get off one round before taking several of his own up the middle of his torso.

Carlos huddled on the couch with his hands over his ears and only moved when he felt the barrel of the gun poke him in the ribs.

"Get up and get outside."

Carlos did as he was told, his eyes widening as he took in the blood-spattered bodies of the two women. He looked back and saw Christopher bent over the ottoman, blood running down the cream leather and dripping onto the floor. The second man went first, holding his side where Christopher's wild shot had caught him and led the way down to the van. Carlos was thrown in the back and tied to the steel floor frame without ceremony.

"I am hurt, I don't think I can travel far."

"We will rest here tonight and leave at first light. I will clean that and put a bandage on it."

"It hurts too much to move. I need a medico, Juan."

"In the morning. In the village. I will look for one. Tonight we must stay put."

Carlos watched as the two men ignored him like just another spare part in the van.

*****

"Did any body check her room?"

"I did. There was no answer." Ebony expressed concern. "She went walking after we all left the restaurant."

"Hell the whole town's only several blocks in every direction, where the hell could she have gone?" Hoyte waved his arms about in emphasis.

Terry checked his watch and then said he was going to go to the different places that were open last night and ask around.

"We can all do that. We'll split up and meet back here in half an hour." Wilfred said.

*****

It only took ten minutes to find out about the black woman who spoke with a strange accent and the gringo man she left with. Christopher had spoken to several of the women in the town since he'd arrived and they all knew that he was searching for Carlos Huentos. They also knew that Carlos lived in the villa in the mountains but had pretended not to so that they could all get some of the gringo's money. Terry paid a generous amount for their help and hurried back to find the others.

"She went off with a guy? Who was he?"

"They just said he was a Nort Americano. From the description he could have been anyone. Actually one women mentioned that he had a really funny nose. She said it was all bent to the left."

"His or hers?" Hoyte asked.

"His or hers what?"

"Left. His or her left?"

Terry looked at the others. "Do you believe this guy?" What the hell differ—"

"Because Chris Ditchburn had a nose that was like that. Elora broke it."

"That's right!" Wilfred said. "I remember that from the meetings only it was bandaged then."

"That's right, I remember now," Terry said. "Don't tell me he's here chasing the trust? He must still be working with Carlos."

"Elora met him and now she's missing." Terry said.

"You said she went off with this guy."

Wilfred held up a hand. "Lady and gentlemen, I think we have a defector in our ranks."

"That's a real bummer, Hughes." Hoyte said.

"Graeme-Hughes."

"Whatever. So I guess we get up to this villa and have it out with them."

"We do, so let's get at it."

*****

They stood beside their old van and looked at the rental car parked outside the villa gates. Tire tracks showed another vehicle had been parked closer to the bushes on the upside of the hill. They opened the gate and climbed the steps to the villa.

"Bet our money paid for this place." Hoyte said, turning to admire the view down to the town below.

"Let's just hope they haven't spent it all." Ebony added, climbing faster to the villa front door. "Hey," she whispered hoarsely, "it's open."

Terry and Wilfred went past her and into the villa on tiptoes, stopping at the entrance to the living room.

"Dear God!"

"What?" Hoyte and Ebony pushed in beside them.

"Oh Christ!"

"Elora!" Ebony crossed the tile floor and knelt down beside Elora's body and straightened immediately. "Oh God." She hurried back and out the door to the front steps.

"That's Ditchburn," Hoyte said. "Jesus, he must have twenty holes in him."

"I wonder who she was." Terry asked.

"A young woman in her underwear? Tell me you're kidding, Terry." Wilfred checked all the bodies for signs of life and then went back to the door and studied the blood on the front sill and just inside the door.

"She was one of Carlos' women."

"Full marks, old boy. Look at this." He pointed to the blood stains."

"So?" Hoyte said. "It's all over the goddamn place."

"So I would posit that one of the gunmen or somebody with them was also shot. There is no trail between here and any of them."

"He's right." Terry went back to Christopher's body and began a search around the furniture. "Here it is." He held up a small automatic. "One shot fired." He said, checking the magazine.

"Handy with guns are we, Aldridge?" Hoyte noted.

"I watch a lot of TV. And on that note, I think we should make ourselves scarce. A lot of people in town know we were asking about this place and these people."

"Ah shit, not again." They all hustled to the van and drove back down to the village.

*****

Simon held his friend up and tipped some water into his mouth. He coughed and reacted to the pain it caused.

"I need a doctor, Simon. It hurts badly."

"They tell me the closest one is in San Martin, we will have to drive there."

"I can't, it hurts too much, the bouncing of the van."

"What can I do, Juan, tell me then?"

"Leave him and come back with the doctor." Carlos said from his corner of the back floor.

"I should leave you instead." Simon growled, pointing his gun at Carlos.

"He is right, Simon. Leave me here and fetch the doctor." Blood fizzed at the corner of his mouth and he coughed again.

"He isn't going to make it." Carlos said.

Simon dug out his cell phone and punched in a number.

"Raoul? There is a problem. We have the pig, Carlos but Jaun is badly wounded and I can't get him to a doctor."

The voice was weak but still threatening. "Forget Juan and bring Huentos back here NOW!"

"But—"

"I will have your family peeled alive." The phone went dead.

Simon looked at his friend and weighed the consequences. "I have an idea, Juan. You will have to stand a little bit of a drive but in the end it will be worth it." He made him as comfortable as possible and then got into the driver's seat and turned the van around, heading back up into the

mountains.

******

"There's a vehicle coming up the road from the village!"

"Quick, pull off somewhere." Wilfred shouted.

Terry turned into a small clearing and the van tilted down as the front wheel left the shoulder. "Oh Jesus! We're stuck!"

"Out, everybody out. Get to cover in the scrub."

The van rumbled up and stopped beside the stuck vehicle and Simon put it in park and climbed out slowly, gun ready. He looked around and stepped cautiously to the driver's side, peering in and seeing some luggage and a familiar looking satchel. He slid open the rear side door and leaned in, dragging it toward him. The door slid shut on his side and he screamed out in pain as Hoyte opened and closed it again with equal force. Simon dropped his gun and grabbed his chest; he knew his ribs were broken and when the door opened again he tumbled out onto the road.

"It's one of the guys from the compound in Buenos Aires." Hoyte shouted.

Wilfred had crept to the other van and looked in, seeing Huentos tied to the frame in the back and another of Raoul's men lying on the back seat, bleeding from a stomach wound.

"These are our shooters from the villa." He said as Terry joined him. "And they have Carlos."

Ebony came from her hiding place, dusting off her clothes and stood beside Hoyte. "Is he dead?"

"Nah, a few busted ribs though." He kicked him mercilessly.

"Hoyte!"

"What, these guys were sent to get us too don't forget. Look what they did to Elora."

Terry ran back to their van and started transferring all their things. "C'mon, we still have the same problem with discovery. We'll take their van, it's a lot newer and bigger."

"What about Raoul's men?" Ebony asked, lugging the gun satchel to the new ride.

"We leave them." Wilfred said, tossing in the last of their stuff. "Let them explain the mess at the villa."

Hoyte and Terry dragging the moaning Juan over to their van and jammed him into the passenger seat, ignoring his obvious agony. Then they hauled Simon into the driver's side and shut the doors.

"You should drive more carefully, fellas," Hoyte said, slapping the side of the van and hurrying over to the other.

Terry carefully turned it around and they headed back toward the village.

"Okay. No stopping. We're going straight back through the village and onto the road to San Martin."

"We can stop in La Paz or San Luis and sort out our options. Meanwhile I'm going to have a chat with Carlos here." Wilfred climbed over the back seat and squatted on the floor next to their prisoner. "We can make this very simple, Carlos. You tell us where our money is and everybody goes away safe and happy. Or, you can bring a world of misery on yourself, old son."

"You can't get away with this. You are visitors in a foreign country. Committing crimes down here is very differ—"

"Save the lecture, Carlos. We are already up to our necks in trouble; both with the law and the mafia, or whatever it's called down here, so skip the crap and tell me where the money is."

"Maybe you should tell him about his family and Anita." Hoyte said.

"What of, Anita." Carlos asked.

"Look at that. The mistress is more important than the family."

"Anita was butchered by your friends back there or members of their gang. We saw it first hand and it was not pretty."

His head fell back and his eyes closed. He always knew his family would suffer for his choices but he didn't think anyone knew about Anita and the revelation brought a rock hard lump to his throat. His only chance now was to make the best deal possible with these people; something from the trust money was certainly better than nothing.

*****

Raoul struggled to pack his bag as quietly as possible. With only the use of one hand—the other completely gone now—and excruciating pain of cauterizing unaffected by the huge doses of painkillers, he was having considerable trouble. The last message from Simon was a definite final nail in his coffin. How the two of them could get themselves into such a mess with a bunch of bumbling gringos was beyond him but just before he passed out he told Raoul that they had changed vans and also had Huentos.

There was no way Raoul was reporting to Benito again. He couldn't spare any more body parts if that's all it came to but he certainly didn't want to die at the hands of Thorn. He wound another roll of gauze around the stump to sop up the seeping blood and then took his bag and stole down the rear steps and out to the street, hailing a cab and heading far away from Benito's reach.

*****

"Did you get the number of the taxi?"

Thorn nodded.

"Find it. Find Raoul, and see to his disloyalty and then find our van load of Gringos and Carlos Huentos."

Thorn picked up the recording he had made of Raoul's phone calls and slipped it into the wall safe behind Benito's favourite painting of weeping clocks by Salvador Dali. He stopped immediately when Benito called to him.

"Before you leave, bring our eunuch gringo to the gallery; I have visitors coming who might enjoy amusing themselves with a Nort Americano."

*****

The park in San Luis was quite pretty with rare rosewood and jacaranda trees as well as the more common eucalyptus and sycamore. Flowerbeds flourished under the care of many gardeners and the picnic area was dotted with small tables and benches in private little alcoves surrounded by ornamental cedars. This was the last town before they got back into the Pampas and the miles of ranching and grain fields. Ebony opened the container of fast food and passed it around to the others. Hoyte popped the tops off of the beer and they dug in with gusto.

"Are we giving him any?" She asked.

"When he gives us something... maybe." Wilfred smiled at the pitiful stare from Carlos who was still tied but able to sit with his legs out of the van.

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we're screwed, so we might as well deliver him to Raoul and his buddies, at least he'll answer for losing two of his men, the van and a bag of guns."

"You can't!" Carlos called from the door.

"Oh but we can... unless of course you get us our money."

"If I do..." he began cautiously. "What happens to me?"

"You know what, pal. You just better worry about what'll happen if you don't." Hoyte gave him a dismissive stare. Elora's surprising and sudden death left him in limbo over caring about the money; avenging her seemed more important now.

"Time's up gang," Terry said. "Let's hit the road."

They cleaned up their mess, shoved Carlos back into the rear of the van and drove out of the little park.

*****

Night had wrapped the country in an inky blackness. The moon was a mere sliver and even the traffic added little to illuminate the night world of Buenos Aires. A decision had been taken to use Carlos' house, assuming that since his family had already been taken away they wouldn't be coming back to look for Carlos at his home.

Wilfred knocked on the huge double doors and a pert little maid answered almost immediately, exclaiming surprise at seeing Carlos and ushering them all inside with bubbly pleasure.

"Senor Carlos, I thought you were- they took Mrs. Huentos and the children!" She flapped about, nervously casting glances at the others. Hoyte pushed past into the living room and then did a check of the entire ground floor. When he came back Carlos was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase leading to the second floor, his head buried in his hands and the others just standing and looking at him.

"What now?"

"She told him that Raoul's mob killed his family."

"Good, less to worry about." Hoyte raised his chin at the start of Ebony's objection. "I'm past all this compassion shit. Think about Elora for a minute and what they had planned for us. And what about Darcy?"

"The gringo eunuch—" The maid stopped and covered her mouth.

"What did you say?" Terry grabbed her arm. "The gringo what?"

"I know nothing, senor. Please you hurting me."

"Answer me or you'll find out what hurt is."

Wilfred and Ebony exchanged surprised glances.

"The man- the man, Darcy... he was- he is..." she began to sob and pulled free running to Carlos and tugging at him for help, Spanish flowing like a fractured dam.

"What's she saying?"

Carlos looked up and shook his head. "Raoul had him- they took his manhood..."

"Jesus Christ!" Hoyte slammed his fist into the wall and marched around in an angry circle.

"How does she know this?" Ebony asked.

"She worked a party at some bigwig's house where Darcy was supposed to perform with... others."

Terry gaped at Wilfred. "How do you know? Why would his personal maid be working parties on the side?"

"It's part of what she babbled to Carlos, I don't know."

"I'll murder the bastard." Hoyte rubbed his swelling knuckles and glared at Carlos.

"Wait a minute. What do you mean... supposed to perform?" Terry grilled the maid.

"He disappeared from the compound. The women were all terrified because they didn't know where he went and Raoul was- was..."

"Let's stick to the money for a minute, we can decide what to do when we're in a financial position to do something." Ebony cut in, pointing at Carlos. "Where is it?"

"We need to make a deal." Carlos looked up just in time to catch Hoyte's swollen fist flush on the nose. Blood sprayed across his shirt and the maid's uniform. They both screamed and she fell away while Carlos rolled onto the floor.

"That's all the negotiating you're gonna get." Hoyte yelled, his face suffused with red anger.

"Christ, old boy, we need him to be able to talk." Wilfred steered Hoyte away to a seat in the lush living room and then came back, helping Terry get Carlos to another chair.

"You might be well advised to talk, old boy. Your options are very limited."

Carlos tipped his head back and held the cold cloth Ebony provided, over his dripping nose. "It's in a private account in the Cayman Islands."

"Okay that's a good start. Now give me the number or better still you just access that account and send it straight to the number I give you." Wilfred was speaking with a tension Terry hadn't witnessed before and he wondered just how their little band of brothers was going to handle the next few steps.

"We need to discuss that part, Wilfred." Terry said with more force than he intended. "Let's just get the account number first."

Hoyte stood and stared at Carlos who nodded hastily and, using a pen Ebony came up with, wrote the account number on a piece of paper torn from a magazine on the coffee table.

"Okay." Terry pocketed the slip and stepped to the center of the group. "Here's what I suggest."