The Argentina Rhodochrosite (29 page)

60

Ainsley sipped her pumpkin soup and
tried to ignore the woman’s jealous eyes upon her.

She and Marcelo were sitting at the kitchen table of his son, Luca. The jealous eyes belonged to Laura, a thin woman with a hawkish nose who had pinned Ainsley with a stare that could’ve woken the dead, a gaze that hadn’t let up, not from the moment the younger American woman had crossed into her home.

It was female dominance, pure and simple, but there really wasn’t any need. Ainsley was nobody’s prize at the moment. Her wet hair was piled on top of her head from a quick shower in the upstairs bathroom and she wore no makeup. She was even dressed in Laura’s extra robe. Her clothing was so dirty that Laura had ordered that it be immediately washed, dried, and ironed by the family maid.

“How is the soup?” said Laura.

“It’s good, thank you,” replied Ainsley.

“Do you like soup?”

“Yes.”

“You can have more soup, if you want. I can give you more soup.”

“That would be nice.”

The woman lifted her chin arrogantly. “I made the soup myself. With ingredients from my garden. Do you make soup from your garden?”

“No,” Ainsley answered, “I don’t.”

That was the right answer. Laura nodded smugly, crossed her arms, and sat back.

It was eight o’clock in the morning, and Ainsley and Marcelo had driven through the night, more than twelve hours, nearly fifteen hundred kilometers, back up to the rich grasses of the pampas. Now they were in this modest home on the northwestern outskirts of Bahia Blanca, a modest-sized town known mostly for its proximity to the naval base.

Luca was watching her too, but with much more friendliness in his eyes. “So what are you doing hanging around with my old man?”

“Fighting evil,” Ainsley replied.

That wasn’t really a joke, but Luca chuckled. It ended with a glance from his wife.

Marcelo set down his spoon. “She is here to investigate a missing gemstone.”

“Which one?”

“It’s better not to discuss.”

The couple accepted that. Luca addressed his father. “So then why are you helping her,
pap
á?”

“Because the military just slaughtered my cows.”

Luca slapped his hand against his forehead. “How is that possible? Why?”

“You know my history.”

“But the cows are everything you have!”

Marcelo shrugged. Ainsley concentrated on spooning the soup into her mouth. It was a difficult situation to explain without betraying the reason for her mission. She listened to Marcelo doing a halfway decent job of dancing around the questions.

Then she heard Luca say, “Then what do you need? Why are you here?”

Ainsley set her spoon down with a bit more force than necessary. The sharp clunk caught everyone’s attention. “We’re here because I need to get onto the navy base.”

“Puerto Belgrano?” said Luca.

“Yes.”

Ainsley waited for the inevitable reply: you’re
loca
, it’s impossible, never, forget it. She put her face down into her bowl and prepared for the worst.

All Luca said was, “Okay.” As though she had suggested picking up an extra carton of eggs at the store.

Ainsley looked up. She was confused. “We’re talking about the navy base. Isn’t it difficult to get inside?”

Luca shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Aren’t there guards?”

He shrugged. “If you’re a familiar face, it doesn’t matter.”

Laura agreed. “Our friend Tico goes there every day to drop off and pick up laundry. Sometimes he takes his children, sometimes his wife. The guards don’t really care.”

Ainsley pushed even further. “Do you think I could go with him?”

Laura fixed her with that irritating stare. “If he decides that he likes you, then maybe.”

It finally dawned on Ainsley why this woman was so antagonistic. Laura thought Ainsley was angling her way into their family. She probably assumed that this
yanqui
was a black widow who ensnared old men like Marcelo and sucked them dry of their riches.

That was ridiculous. One, all of Marcelo’s riches were rotting in a high-altitude pasture with bullets between their eyes. Two, Ainsley wasn’t into relationships of exploitation. She’d already played the pursuer-distancer game with the Legal Weasel, her missing husband. They’d played it so well, and for so long, that he’d distanced himself right out of their marriage.

But Laura didn’t know any of this, and probably wouldn’t have cared anyways. She had just been seized by that primitive desire to scare away any potential females that would disrupt her nest.

“I can pay him,” said Ainsley. “Here.”

She reached into her purse and laid down a hundred pesos. She hated greasing the rails in this way, but sometimes it had to be done.

Laura nodded at her husband. “I’m sure he would appreciate that,” he said. “Where’s the phone?”

In the other room, he found the receiver, dialed, and had a quick conversation. It was friendly in nature, judging from his body language. When he hung up, he turned to Ainsley.

“Tico will be here in ten minutes.”

That was good. Ainsley wiped her mouth. She stood up from the table and went into the living room. She listened to Luca and Laura trying to persuade Marcelo to move in with them.

Then the front door burst open. He was a stocky man with a barrel chest, a short haircut, and a wild pair of eyes. He was dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit and work boots.

“
Que pasa, che
,” said Luca. The men slapped each other on the backs and kissed each other’s cheeks.

“Is this the one?” said Tico, looking at Ainsley.

She offered her cheek for the kiss. “Nice to meet you, I’m—”

But Tico gently pushed her face aside. “It is killing me to say this to such a beautiful woman, but I don’t want to know your name.”

“Why?”

“In case you get into trouble. We never met.”

Ainsley pulled back. Once again, she felt like a poisonous flower, like Rappaccini’s daughter.

“Look, all I need is to get inside the base,” she said. “Can you do that?”

Tico puffed out his chest at being asked to perform something. “A baby could crawl onto that base. But not through the main gate.” He winked. “The guards put on a good show for the tourists there. The work gate for the civilian personnel, that’s where I go in. They don’t give a shit, especially when it’s busy.”

“When are you leaving?” she said.

He looked at his watch. “Right now. I have to be at the barracks in an hour.”

“Let’s do it.”

“So what do I get?”

Ainsley peeled off two hundred pesos and handed it to him. “You never saw me.”

“You never saw me either.”

Ainsley went over to Marcelo and exchanged cheek kisses with him. “You’ve been such a help.”

The rancher looked up at her peacefully. “Find that bastard’s wife,” said the rancher, “and nail him.”

The maid brought Ainsley her clothing. She gathered her purse and started to walk towards the bathroom to change. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“
Mi corazon
, you need to wear this,” said Tico. He was holding a navy blue jumpsuit.

“That?”

“Yes. You’re substituting for my wife today. She’s sick.”

“Really sick?”

“No,” he grinned, “she’s
agreed
to feel sick.”

Ainsley smiled. She took the jumpsuit and went into the bathroom and closed the door. The garment was about four sizes too small and had green splotches down the front. It could be chimichurri sauce. Apparently Tico’s wife couldn’t handle her condiments.

She undressed and put on the jumpsuit and buttoned up the front. When she was finished, she looked in the mirror.

The sleeves only extended halfway down her forearms. The pants didn’t even reach the tops of her boots. And she couldn’t close the two buttons across her chest, leaving the tops of her girls peeking out. The effect was unsettling. She looked like a deranged washerwoman whore.

Ainsley put on her coat and opened the bathroom door. Laura was outside, waiting. She handed Ainsley her clothing, neatly pressed and folded, inside a plastic bag.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” said Ainsley.

But the woman wasn’t nearly as cordial. “So what about us? You just use me and my husband? We give you what you need and you leave?”

Ainsley peeled off two hundred more pesos. “Here,” she said.

“No,” said Laura, pushing it away, “I don’t want money.”

“Then how can I repay you?”

The woman’s eyes flicked down to the clothes in Ainsley’s hands. “Where do you go shopping?” she asked.

Ainsley was flabbergasted. “I don’t know. Many places.”

“I want to go with you. I need to improve my wardrobe, but I don’t know how.”

Ainsley looked down at her ridiculous outfit and stifled a laugh. “You have a deal,” she said. “As soon as this is done, we’ll go shopping.”

Laura stood up on her tiptoes and exchanged cheek kisses. The tougher the outside, the softer the inside.

61

As the laundry truck edged forward
in the long traffic queue, Ainsley nervously drummed the fingers of her right hand on her knee.

She was five minutes away from the base.

On the drive, Tico had entertained her with stories. The navy, he assured her, wasn’t as powerful as it had been a generation earlier. The loss of the Falklands and the dirty war had sullied its reputation, and fewer people were considering the military as a career.

In fact, his union, the Government Workers’ Union, had gone on strike a few years earlier, an event that essentially closed down the base until its demands were met. The civilians kept the place running now, and most of them lived in a nearby neighborhood called Punta Alta, including himself.

Ainsley didn’t disagree. But the military was still influential enough to disappear a nameless maid from her villa. And to kidnap and deport Ainsley herself. And to chase her up into the mountains. And to kill one hundred and seventeen cattle—and one innocent shepherd—just to intimidate.

Or, more likely, it was just one man in the military, one well-placed man, who was ordering these things. And now she was sneaking into the very belly of that beast to find that man’s wife.

Maria Libertad Ortiz.

What Ainsley would do when she found this woman, she wasn’t quite sure. Ask her questions? Pretend friendship? Ainsley had survived this long living by her wits, and she would improvise. It had been working so far.

“So where on the base are you going?” said Tico.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“You’re just going to wander around?” he said, shocked. “It’s thousands of hectares. Gigantic.”

“I’m looking for the wife of a lieutenant colonel.”

“Oh, she’s one of the big fish.” Tico thought about it. “I know exactly where you should go.”

“Where?”

“The polo field. That’s where the fancy wives hang out. They like to watch the players.”

The truck lurched forward. They were almost at the gate now. A naval officer was inside the small hut, chatting with each driver, almost all of whom seemed to be civilian laborers going to work. A no-nonsense metal sign reading
Base Naval Puerto Belgrano
was planted in the soil.

Through the gate, Ainsley could see an open expanse of field, with trees and brick structures in the far distance. She was entering a different world, where the normal rules didn’t apply. She felt sweat erupting from her armpits.

“Relax, act casual,” said Tico. “Here.”

He handed Ainsley a newspaper. She pretended to read, but the thin paper was quivering in her hands.

Tico took the paper away from her. “Never mind,” he said. “Just look ahead. I’ll talk. This guy is my favorite.”

They pulled up to the guard, who looked about twenty-five and made of action-hero musculature. His triceps bulged against the sleeves of his crisp shirt as he hooked one hand on the roof of the cab and peered inside the truck.

“Tico,
cabrón
! Your wife put too much starch on this collar! It hurts!”

“That’s too bad,” said Tico. “We want you to look professional, you know?”

The guard looked at the passenger side of the cab and his face hardened. He had noticed Ainsley.

“Maria’s sick,” said Tico. “This is her cousin visiting from Buenos Aires. She’s helping me for the day.”

The guard peered at her. He seemed to buy the story. After all, Ainsley had chopped her hair recently, in the current
porteño
fashion, and she was wearing the washerwoman’s outfit.

“I have to sign her in,” said the guard.

Ainsley’s heart leapt in her throat.

“She’s our cousin,” said Tico. “Please, I’m late. Let me check her in when I leave.”

“You won’t remember,” said the guard.

“Please,” begged Tico.

The guard hesitated.

Tico lowered his voice. “I’ll put in less starch. Tomorrow morning. Just for you.”

The guard thought about it. Then he straightened up and pounded a fist on the roof of the truck.

Translation: Move along.

As they pulled forward through the gate, Ainsley finally exhaled. The butterflies in her tummy were performing lunatic pirouettes. Every limb in her body was trembling.

“You are the
best
,” she said.

Tico smiled. “Welcome to the home of the Argentine navy.”

The truck lumbered across the open field that lay just inside the Puerto Belgrano gate. Tico held his hand up to the right side of his face as Ainsley stripped off the jumpsuit and pulled on her own clothing. She wasn’t wearing that uniform oen second longer than she had to. Then she adjusted her makeup in the flipdown mirror.

“I’ll drop you off near the polo field,” said Tico. “It’s too far to walk.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Ainsley looked out the window. This base seemed about as militaristic as a piece of cherry cheesecake. Lush pine trees lined the sides of the streets. Tico gunned the engine at a stop sign and flushed a covey of birds out of an acacia. The scent of lavender floated everywhere.

She watched the officers’ residences glide by, lovely examples of brick construction, the landscaping vibrant.

They passed an elementary school, a hospital, a grocery store, a golf course. Ainsley checked her watch. They’d been driving for a while. She guessed that this base was at least the size of her own town back in the United States. It was astounding.

Then a long fence appeared on the right, with an open field of grass beyond. Tico immediately pulled over.

“This is the polo field,” he said. “If you walk up there you’ll see the club where the fancy ladies flock like birds.”

“Thank you,” said Ainsley. “Here is your jumpsuit. What time are you leaving today?”

“About two o’clock.”

“Can I catch a ride out?”

“If you tell me where you’ll be.”

“I don’t know where I’ll be,” she said.

He scratched his face. “If you are standing at the corner of that main commercial street, in front of the grocery store, you’ll see me pass by. Otherwise, adios.”

She exited the truck and closed the door. “Hey,” said Tico, leaning over, “I can’t resist asking something.”

“What is it?”

“Which officer’s wife are you looking for?”

Ainsley paused. “Lieutenant Colonel Ortiz,” she said.

She wasn’t prepared for his reaction. The color drained from Tico’s face immediately. His mouth clamped shut. He quickly rolled up his window, popped the truck into gear, and pulled away from her.

Ainsley watched him go. Apparently she’d said the wrong thing.

Her confidence was shaken. Ainsley suddenly felt way outside her comfort zone. She’d been hired to find a necklace, but the job had now expanded to also include finding the identity of her employer’s birth mother. Never mind the fact that she’d been fired from the first, and therefore had no right to be pursuing the second. Or that, truth be told, she felt unqualified to be doing either.

But she couldn’t turn back. For better or worse, Ainsley pursued everything in her life to the end. The follow-through was the thing, money be damned. She trusted that that would be enough upon which to build her reputation as a international gemstone tracker.

She turned towards the polo field. The first thing that impressed her was its sheer enormity. It was the size of five soccer fields. She could barely see the other side.

She followed the fence, passed the concrete seating area, and finally spotted the club. The path to the entryway was marked by two rows of blue-and-white pennants.

Ainsley strode proudly down the sidewalk. She was melting on the inside but tough on the outside. Fake it until you make it.

The front door was decorated with a pair of crossed mallets. The sign said Puerto Belgrano Polo Club.

She pushed the door open and entered.