Nobody came up with any objection.
“Is this van of yours here?” Cade asked Evita.
She hesitated for a moment. “Yes. . . .”
“And I assume it would have a phone in it too?”
“Sure. All the regular phone company equipment.”
It was the first prospect of being able to use trustworthy communications since Cade and Hudro were shot down. “Maybe we could call Baxter ahead and see how it looks,” Cade suggested. “Get him started on making arrangements at his end.”
“I guess. . . .”
At that point Rocco raised his hands. “This, I will leave to you. It is no longer our concern. It is time for us to be leaving now. So, we will say farewell and good luck, my friends.”
A gaggle from inside came out to get some of the night air and watch as Cade and Hudro walked with Rocco to where the truck was waiting behind the Hummer, which was already filled with figures, engine running, ready to go.
“Remember to piss on body-scent detectors that they drop from the air when you find them,” Hudro said. “And wear fresh flowers in hat. Works pretty good too.”
Rocco’s smile showed against the black of his mustache in the feeble light. “I’ll remember. And the other thing I’ll remember is that who are the good guys and who are the bad guys is more complicated than people think. But they have to learn it if this kind of thing is ever going to stop. That’s the most important thing to learn.”
He shook hands with Cade, then Hudro, and turned to heave himself up onto the tailboard. Somebody banged on the roof of the cab, and the truck started up. It flashed its lights for the Hummer ahead to move, and then followed twenty yards behind. Cade and Hudro stood watching, their arms raised, until the tail lamps disappeared, and then turned to go back to the houses.
Afterward, Evita took Cade to the van, where he used its phone to call Neville Baxter in New Zealand. Baxter was surprised and delighted. “What the hell gives?” he demanded, ever indomitably jovial.
“A long story that I’m not even going to try to get into, Neville. Look, I need help. I might be taking you up on that offer to visit you there sooner than you thought.”
“You sound like you’re in some kind of trouble.”
“You could say that.”
“Something to do with that documentary you did with your ex? We saw it here. It was dynamite.” There was a pause, as if Baxter were putting the pieces together. “You were in South America when you made that. Is that where you still are now?”
“Right. And we need to get out.”
“Who’s we? You mean the ex? What was her name . . . ?”
“No, I told you it’s a long story. I’m with a Hyadean—not one that you know. Heading directly north might have problems. The easiest way might be to come out your way. We’re trying to get to Chile, and then down to Santiago.”
“Where are you now, exactly?” Baxter asked. “We’ve got associates in a number of places down there. Maybe they can help.”
For a second, Cade was unsure whether to answer. But then it was he, a moment ago, who had said he needed help. “Bolivia,” he said. “Should be arriving in La Paz sometime tomorrow.”
“Leave it to me. We might be able to come up with something.”
Next, Cade called Luke at the house in California. To his surprise he learned that Julia was still there—acting about as normally as could be expected after a secession, and with war breaking out. Cade cautioned Luke to be careful of her. There was reason to believe she wasn’t what she said. Until he got back, Luke shouldn’t trust Julia with anything confidential. That, of course, included any mention of the fact that Cade had been in touch.
CHAPTER FORTY
THE CITY OF NUESTRA SEñORA DE LA PAZ, Our Lady of Peace, had seldom lived up to its name since its founding in 1548 by the envoy to whom the King of Spain had entrusted the rule of the empire seized from the Incas. It was supposed to mark the peace after the original Conquistadors, their companions at arms, sons, brothers, and heirs finally wiped themselves out after sixteen years of senseless civil war. Then, revolts plagued the nearly three centuries of Spanish rule. Aymará Indians besieged La Paz for six months in 1781, when latter-day Inca uprisings extended from Peru to Argentina. In 1825, Simón Bolívar, the liberator after whom the country was named, became the first national leader, only to resign the next year and be succeeded by six presidents in the next three years. Over the following two hundred years, sixty-odd men held the top spot, many lasting only days or weeks, tumbled by one another in more than 150 uprisings during the period. Twelve were assassinated.