Confrontation Ch. 11: Who Got Vila?

This puts things in a different light for me, now that I know this was a tight family outfit. Had Gonzagos come to see Vila because he suspected a double-cross, with the lawyer trying to cut into the family business by siphoning off pieces for his own profit?

An even wilder possibility crosses my mind, almost too far-fetched to be real. Could Fernando Vila be somehow complicit in the murder of the Ambassador, so he could divert even more artifacts to Sao Paulo? A power struggle for control of the syndicate? This was still a wide-open question because no suspects had been apprehended yet in the case.

As I ponder the other recent murder, Antonio DaSilva in Manaus, the timing makes it easier to understand. His throat was slashed within hours of the cancellation of Lot 200 at Southerby's London auction. Someone on the inside must have wanted him silenced before Scotland Yard started digging into the syndicate. Vila and Gonzagos immediately come to mind.

A day later, I get a phone call from my contact at Scotland Yard. What he tells me comes as another surprise, one that he wants me to follow up on.

"Jaguar, I need a favour from you. Think you can get up to Cuzco as soon as possible?"

"Maybe. What's going on?"

"I'd like you to visit the Recaros at their shop there. They trust you- an old customer, right. It'd be a nice and friendly chat, like you don't know anything about the smuggling."

"What am I supposed to find out for you?"

"Questioning Ambassador Echevarria's daughter leads to suspicion that she was receiving good pieces from them too, especially Chimu and Inca that we found stored among things removed from her dead father's offices at the embassy."

"Well, dammit, they sure had me fooled. Harmless old folks just selling second- and third-rate stuff to amateur collectors, eking out a simple retirement. There was a lot more there than met the eye."

"Pieces from southern Peru were probably sourced through archaeologist Emile Urbano, but the old couple is our only lead for other cultures in the country. See if you can casually uncover anything, if it isn't already too late. But don't spook them."

"OK, I'll get up there within a day."

I talk with Marina about it, and she tells me that she'll be coming along for a little trip up into the mountains. My wife would like to go up to Machu Picchu where we first made our vows, but I explain that there's not enough time for that. I'm still trying to catch up on my work at the museum after all the time spent sleuthing the smuggling case. She pouts a bit, but tells me that she understands and will just come to Cuzco.

Actually, I'm glad that she's accompanying me because if I encounter my former friend-with-benefits Mercedes at the hotel there's no telling what might happen. Especially if she comes to my room with a bottle of Pisco and that hungry look again. I know that I'm a sucker for her hot body.

A day later we arrive to check into the hotel for a few nights. Hell, she's on the front desk, so I grab for Marina's hand, but she's dropped back to look at a display case in the lobby.

"Hello Jaguar!" comes with a big smile. "It's always nice to see you here. Would you like to take the first floor room just down the hall where you stayed last time? I know you found it very comfortable. And it's close by for room service too. How many nights?"

"Two, Mercedes. Listen, I'm here..." I start to say in a low voice, wanting to tip off the desk clerk that my wife is with me.

"You can tell me about your Cuzco trip later," she cuts in. "I'm a good listener. Now, can I book that room for you, Jag?"

"Yes, yes," I sigh, eager to get checked in before Marina reappears.

The display has her full attention and I join her there a few minutes later with the room key. Without a backward glance, I lead her a short distance down the hall, and we drop our bags inside the room.

Marina is in a playful mood and pushes me onto the bed before climbing on top of me. We kiss and she tongues me, whispering, "I have plenty more for you later, Jag." Hotel rooms seem to have that affect on her.

Sure enough, we are making passionate love later that evening. Marina wears a filmy little nothing that she brought along for the trip and I'm eager for a closer look. We've had a bottle of wine and are definitely in the mood.

"Why not take my top off, honey. I know you'll like what you find there," she teases.

"It's so sheer that I already like it," I laugh, but undo the little tie to remove it anyway.

Marina's beautiful breasts spill out and my lips are on her points in a second. She moans a bit and I kiss harder. At the same time, her fingers find my tool and begin to stroke it firmly. I groan with pleasure before we move to the bed, where we lay side-by-side indulging ourselves with each other.

"I love being alone like this, away from home, don't you?" she says softly in my ear as she clutches me closer.

"Yes, like in Lisbon!" I enthuse, her exotic perfume making my head swim.

Just then there's a little tap at the door, followed shortly after by another. We ignore it but I'm concerned. Then there's a third tap, followed by a female voice sweetly announcing, "Room service, Mr. Arundel."

"Did you order anything, Jag?" my wife asks with surprise.

"Must be a mistake. Stay here and I'll check."

I grab the complimentary housecoat and rush to the door hoping that it isn't Mercedes replaying her script from my last visit. It might be that way: same room, same time, same scenario.

What to do? I crack open the door, leaving the night lock chain in place. It is Mercedes! Oh, fuck!

"Let's kill this bottle, Jag. I'm off duty and remember last time," she says not too loudly because she's still in the hall. "Let me in."

"Mercedes, my wife is with me this time," I whisper.

"Dammit Jaguar! Why didn't you tell me?"

She's angry and hisses, "Hey, let me in and we'll all have a drink together. There's a lot I can tell her!"

"Not a chance!" I reply. "Just go away."

"You better hope I don't talk to her before you two leave!" Mercedes threatens.

I push the door in her face and lock it. She curses me as I turn away.

"Who was that, honey?" Marina asks from the bed, sitting up now that I'm coming back.

"Just a mistake. Wrong room."

"Somebody must have been mad. It sounded like swearng."

"Yeah, I guess. Busy night. Poor girl is run off her feet."

"Come back to bed, Jag. Now, where were we?"

The next morning, I leave Marina to sleep while I go to check up on that old couple, the Recaros, at their little antiquities shop. Its not much more than a hole in the wall, a couple of small rooms fronting onto a dusty backstreet.

Their door is locked, and the shades drawn. Nobody answers when I knock. Have I come too early? I walk around to the back alleyway and see nothing but a padlocked door leading to their shop. So, I ask neighbouring shopkeepers about them, but no-one has seen them for at least a week.

The fellow next door says that a truck came one day and was hastily loaded. After that, the old man locked up and they never came back. I know that somebody must have tipped them off after the Peruvian items were pulled from Southerby's London auction. If they had anything better than the inferior stuff they sold to me, it was gone with them. I misjudged these seemingly innocent old folks.

Back at the hotel, I phone Inspector Kilby to report what I found- nothing. He'll notify the local police to track them down, but I wonder if the authorities will have any success. This wily, street-smart old couple will find it easy enough to simply drop out of sight. They're survivors who'll find ways for their collection of ancient artifacts to keep them going.

It has been a dead end, and there's nothing more to investigate in Cuzco. I can't risk having Mercedes talk to Marina if we're at the hotel for another day, so we check out early. I tell my wife that I have a little treat for her. That's the least I can do to atone for my awful mistake with the desk clerk the last time I stayed here.

A taxi takes us to the train station, where we pick up the last available combination tickets for the Urubamba Valley train up the Sacred Valley. By noon we're on board, eager to watch the spectacular scenery along the route before the bus ride up the mountain.

"Thank you so much, Jag. This is such a nice surprise!" Marina enthuses as we hold hands and enjoy the views.

"Anything for you, my love. Believe me, you deserve it."

Between the Recaros and Mercedes, circumstances have changed in Cuzco.

Now there's time for a romantic sunset visit to Machu Picchu after all.

Marina and I are going back to the high prominence where we pledged our love forever in front of the sun god Inti.

[That happened in my story, Andean Experience Ch. 04: Lost Passenger, in Non-Erotic.]

The final chapter of Confrontation will appear shortly. Please rate or comment on this one before you go. Thanks.