Red Leopard (The Vistaria Affair Series) Page 4

  “Okay, so you know more than me about the way things really work here. But what makes you so certain he’s not into something dire and nasty? You have no idea who he is at all.”

  “I know he’s an admirer of the Red Leopard, so of course he’s not a rebel.”

  Calli shoved the dress she had been inspecting back onto the rack impatiently. “Who the hell is the Red Leopard?” she demanded.

  “Why are you getting so angry?” Minnie asked sweetly.

  Calli cast about for a reasonable answer to Minnie’s reasonable question. She had to dig hard. “I’m so sick of not knowing what’s going on,” she muttered.

  Minnie smiled a little. “You’ve been too long on that campus. So you’re out of your comfort zone. So what?”

  “I like my comfort zone.”

  “Dull, boring. Deadly.”

  “Shut up.” Calli’s demand was a token one. She couldn’t think of a better answer.

  Minnie laughed again and came around and tucked her hand into Calli’s elbow. “You need a long, cool margarita under a shady patio with a view of the ocean,” she declared.

  “I need sleep, is what I need.”

  “Siesta. That I can arrange, too. But first the drink.” Minnie tugged on her arm. “Come on.”

  * * * * *

  The patio was shady, and faced the deep blue Pacific Ocean. A cool breeze, laden with salt, flapped the spice-colored tablecloth and Calli turned her face into it, enjoying the moist wind. They had climbed a dozen stairs to reach the patio and consequently, the buildings across the road didn’t hide the view of the ocean. The ground here sloped sharply down towards the sea.

  “The ocean looks wonderful,” Calli confessed. “I wish we were going down there afterwards, but it seems like all we’ve done today is climb.”

  “The city is built right next to mountains. What else did you expect?”

  “To go down at least fifty percent of the time.”

  Minnie grinned. “They say here that if you get tired climbing the hills, you can always lean against them.”

  A huge margarita for each of them arrived at the table, along with a platter of rolled tortillas surrounded by tomato slices, sour cream and green salsa.

  “We didn’t order this,” Calli said.

  Minnie looked up at the waiter. “What’s this?” she asked. Then she pointed at the tortillas. “Qué?” she repeated.

  The waiter nodded. “Sí.” He turned and pointed to a table at the far end of the patio, where three men sat with a bottle of tequila between them. There was a woman at the table too, wearing a very modern, quite short business skirt and a silky blouse. The man next to her had his hand on her tanned, glowing thigh, stroking the flesh along the inside of it while she leaned back, a dreamy expression on her face. One of the other men—young, and with bright, happy eyes—lifted his shot glass toward them.

  Minnie smiled at him and shook her head regretfully, a hand over her heart. “Please take them back,” she told the waiter. “We just want to have a quiet drink.”

  The waiter looked at the man at the other table, shrugged and picked up the platter.

  The man shook his head and called out something. Then he motioned that the waiter should put the platter down again. He got to his feet and bowed from the waist toward them, then with deliberate, almost exaggerated, motions, he turned his chair to face the table of men, his back to them. He would leave them alone, despite his gift.

  “Oh, the darling,” Minnie breathed.

  “How do you do that?” Calli asked, rubbing her temple. She took a sip of the margarita. Delicious and with just the right amount of kick—featherweight—for this heat.

  “Do what?”

  “Get them to leave you alone after you’ve hooked them and drawn them in?”

  “No idea,” Minnie admitted. “They just seem to understand.”

  “Even here?”

  Minnie waved towards the table where they talked together busily, not taking the slightest notice of them now. “Apparently.”

  “I wish I’d had you with me last night,” Calli muttered.

  “It didn’t occur to you that the men last night just wanted some fun?” Minnie asked.

  “Groping constitutes fun?”

  “Groping is virtually a compliment. The men here, they see, they like, they do something about it. It’s refreshing. You know where you stand.”

  The image from her dream came zinging back into Calli’s mind. It had faded now and was losing its edge, but it still had the power to catch her breath and make her pause. She remembered to breathe again and picked up one of the tortilla wraps. “I bet you do,” she said and took a bite.

  Minnie tilted her head inquiringly. “Calli, when are you going to forgive the race of men for what that bastard did to you? They’re not all tarred with the same brush, you know.”

  Calli choked on the mouthful of tortilla as the spice hit the back of her mouth, her tongue, and her lips. Afraid to take a breath in case her mouth burst into flames, she sat with the morsel on her tongue, not sure if she could swallow it. What would it do to her stomach? Tears watered her eyes.

  “Swallow, then suck on the tomato,” Minnie advised, passing her a napkin.

  Calli swallowed, then reached for the margarita.

  “No, the tomato. Trust me,” Minnie said, grabbing the glass from her. “That’ll make it worse.”

  She grabbed a slice of the tomato and stuffed it into her mouth and was astonished at the instant relief it brought. “Ohmigod!” she said, when at last she could draw breath. “Do Vistarians have cast iron stomachs? Metal linings in their mouths? I think my lips have gone numb....” She prodded them experimentally.

  Minnie smiled and took the remainder of the tortilla from her. “Excuse fingers,” she said and unrolled it. Along the row of spicy meat and vegetables inside she dabbed big dollops of sour cream and a line of the green salsa. Then she rolled up the tortilla again and handed it to Calli. “Try that.”

  “Is it safe?”

  Minnie merely sipped her drink with a smile.

  Calli took a bite. This time the cream and the salsa, which had almost a fruity flavor, dulled the fire of the meat and vegetables enough to allow her to enjoy the flavor and chew before swallowing. But she still reached for some tomato anyway.

  “Why are you doing this, Calli?” Minnie asked as she unrolled a tortilla of her own and added the fillings. “Robert’s already wasted the first half of your life for you. Why let him destroy the rest of it by hanging onto a grudge that stops you from enjoying yourself?”

  Calli carefully avoided answering. She took another bite of her tortilla, beginning to enjoy the sharp flavor of the spices. She’d had Mexican food before, but these spices had a slightly different flavor. Fresh or green, or something. After mulling over the differences for a while, she took another sip of her drink, then said to Minnie, “Tell me about the Red Leopard.”

  Minnie pursed her lips, then sighed. “Okay. Serves me right.” She ran her hands through her short hair, ruffling it and patting it into order again. “I don’t know who he is,” she admitted.

  “You said—” Calli began.

  “I said,” Minnie overrode her, “That I don’t know who he is. I don’t. But I do know all about him.”

  “Give. Why does Duardo admire him? Why does that mean Duardo couldn’t possibly be a rebel?” She shook her head. “The Red Leopard,” she quoted. “Isn’t it just a tad ridiculous? The name? Honestly, who outside the movies goes around with a name like that?”

  “He doesn’t call himself that. He doesn’t call himself anything at all. All the soldiers that like him do. Because that’s what he’s like.”

  “He’s in the army?”

  “Don’t think so. I think that’s part of why they like him. He’s no man’s servant and master of none. He’s got no official position anywhere but he has influence. Power. He gets things done. He is everywhere at once. Watching them, keeping them on their toes. He’s very, v
ery sharp, doesn’t miss anything.”

  “It still sounds like a fairytale,” Calli muttered.

  “Yeah, it does a bit, but Duardo didn’t think so. He said he has seen him a few times and wanted to see him again. That’s why he hurried to the police station, but by the time he’d got there, el leopardo had gone—poof! He’d prowled in and slinked out before Duardo got there.”

  Calli almost knocked her drink over as Minnie spoke and now she gripped Minnie’s arm. “He was there last night?” She rubbed her temple, trying to recall the muttered Spanish she’d heard just before she’d whirled to confront the man with the red hair. “What did you just call him?” she said to Minnie.

  “El leopardo?”

  “Yes. That’s ‘the leopard’, but red...” She dived for her newly purchased dictionary.

  “Rojo,” Minnie supplied. “El leopardo rojo.”

  Calli laughed. “Rojo...Roger. That’s what they said last night and I thought they’d called him Roger.”

  Minnie’s eyes shone. “You met him? The Red Leopard?”

  Calli could feel another huge bubble of mirth welling up inside her. “No wonder the soldier at the desk went back and got my bag. He didn’t want Uncle Josh to bring the Red Leopard down on him again. I knew the guy had power, but I didn’t suspect....”

  “So who is he?” Minnie begged. “Duardo wouldn’t tell me. They say it’s a mark of respect not to speak of his real identity, even though they all know. He wouldn’t tell me no matter how I asked. But you will, won’t you? You’ll tell me who he is.”

  Calli shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me either. He refused.”

  Minnie banged the table with her tiny fist. “Damn! This thing is driving me crazy. I’ve been trying to find out who he is for days, but all the soldiers are the same. El zippo on his real name.”

  “God, Minnie, how many soldiers have you been talking to about this?” Calli asked, alarmed.

  “A few. Any of them that would talk to me.”

  “You can’t go around bugging them about this. If this Red Leopard man really wants his identity kept quiet, then they won’t appreciate you, an American, trying to dig it up. Promise me you won’t do it anymore.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s just casual chat.”

  “To you. Not to them. Promise me,” Calli insisted.

  Minnie looked at her, as if trying to judge how serious she was. Then she sighed and dropped her napkin on the table. “Oh, all right, already. No more questions.” She planted her chin on her fist and pouted for a moment, although Calli knew the pout was more for effect than a genuine sulkiness. Minnie was too even tempered to ever truly sulk. Pouting was how she teased Calli for being, in Minnie’s opinion, a stick-in-the-mud. Then, true to form, she visibly brightened and sat up in her chair. “We’ll be surrounded by the military tonight,” she said. “Maybe we won’t have to talk. Maybe we can just keep our ears pinned back and we’ll hear something.”

  “In that mashed Spanish they use?” Calli pointed out.

  “Okay, see something then,” Minnie amended. “Come on, let’s go get that dress we saw. It’s just the thing for tonight.” She pulled the big Vistarian bills out of her bag, counted off enough to cover the drinks and dropped them on the table.

  Calli willingly picked up her bag and followed Minnie down the steps to the road and the walk back to the shopping area, feeling a little of the weight drop from her shoulders and her mind. She was learning, making connections, figuring out the lay of the land. With her new knowledge came the reassurance that she would never see him again. No one who worked to keep his identity a secret would move freely around the city, out in the public.

  “Can we find me a dress, too?” she complained to Minnie as she strode to catch up with her cousin.

  * * * * *

  The problem with allowing Minnie to help with clothes shopping, Calli realized five hours later, was that you ended up with something you wouldn’t have considered buying if you’d been on your own.

  But her lack of wardrobe meant she had to wear the aquamarine gown regardless of the wisdom of her choice. Oh, she had been fine about the dress when they had been in the store. Minnie had pounced on it on the hanger and insisted it would be perfect for her and as usual, Minnie had been right. It had fit well, the color intensified the green of her eyes, and the layers of chiffon gave the whole outfit a delicate appearance that offset her height. She had liked the effect in the mirror. But that had been before they had reached el Hotel Imperial.

  Duardo had been waiting in the cavernous foyer with its white stone walls and gorgeous Persian carpets and heavy mahogany furniture. He wore what Calli could only assume was the formal uniform of the Vistarian army—very dark green pants, a white dress shirt and waist-length jacket. The cut reminded her of the black costumes the men had been wearing last evening and she had seen hundreds of them again this evening on their way to the hotel. At the neck Duardo wore a green and red ribbon in a flat, formalized knot, with a gold pin through the middle. The breast of his jacket had a row of medals and ribbons and black stripes on the sleeves of the jacket replicated the red ones he’d worn when she saw him the previous evening, talking to Minnie.

  When he saw them enter the foyer, he straightened and walked towards them, and Minnie sighed, coming to a halt. “Now isn’t that the sexiest man alive?” she murmured to Calli.

  Duardo smiled at them both. “My pleasure it is to see you again this evening,” he told them. He came to formal attention in front of them and bowed from the waist in greeting to Calli. He did the same to Minnie, then reached into his jacket and withdrew a single blood-red carnation and presented it to her.

  “Oh, how lovely!” she declared.

  He lifted a finger a little towards her hair. “For your hair.”

  She laughed and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s not long enough to hold a flower.”

  He laughed too. “I forgot. I only remembered your eyes and that red is your color.”

  “Never mind,” she said. “I know just where to put it.” She broke off all but a couple of inches of stem, and pushed the flower into her cleavage, so that it nestled between her breasts and the top of the low vee of her gown. The flower matched the color of the swirls on her dress.

  “Perfection,” Duardo declared, studying the effect with close attention.

  Calli hid her smile and surveyed the hotel. It seemed to be an older building, but well-maintained and reeking of money. The few women in the foyer glittered with jewels and costly dresses. Every man there, with the exception of hotel staff, wore military dress. There was not a single civilian male in sight.

  “What is the party for tonight?” she asked Duardo.

  “Tonight is the birthday party for our beloved General Maxim Blanco Alonso,” Duardo answered with pride.

  “Nothing to do with the fiesta then?”

  “Most certainly not. General Blanco is very...correct. Very...” He tugged on the bottom of his jacket. “Un perfecto caballero.”

  Calli got the sense of his meaning from the tug of his jacket and the squaring of his shoulders. Upright, dignified. Proper. A gentleman.

  “Best bibs and tuckers and all that?” she asked with a mock English accent.

  “Qué?” Duardo asked.

  “Nothing,” she assured him. “Forget it. I’m teasing.” But Calli was suddenly glad Minnie had insisted on buying the gown she wore. Minnie had assured her Vistarians were very formal in the evenings and she hadn’t quite understood what she meant. Now she did.

  “Shall we?” Duardo asked, holding out his arms to them.

  Calli let her fingers rest inside his elbow as they walked around the islands of low, heavy furniture in the center of the foyer towards a grand archway that framed a sweeping staircase of stone stairs. Many more people ascended the stairs ahead of them. Most of them wore uniforms and seemed to know each other.

  They climbed the staircase a step at a time, for progress at the top of the
stairs seemed slow. Duardo and Minnie chatted in low voices, laughing a little, taking no notice of their surroundings. Duardo had his hand on Minnie’s waist. Calli looked behind her when they paused for a longer moment, halfway up the flight. The stairs were thick with dark-haired, olive-skinned men and a few Vistarian women. Calli glanced at Minnie. Despite her dark hair and petite stature, Minnie stood out in sharp contrast to everyone there. Her skin was pale in comparison and her pixie-like features and huge eyes with their pale brown coloring marked her as foreign. A stranger. The only non-Vistarian standing on the staircase except for Calli herself.

  Then Calli grew aware of the effect of her own gown and coloring. Straw-blonde hair, white skin, green eyes and a gown that added to the effect of insubstantial lightness. She licked her lips, her heart giving a little flutter. She must stand out like a sore thumb amongst these people.

  The idea made her uncomfortable. She worried it over as they ascended the last few stairs and finally arrived at the top, standing before the big double doors that were apparently their destination. In her heels, Calli stood at least as tall as many of the men and could see between heads to the doorway—a formal greeting line had caused the delay.

  Beyond the line she saw a large ballroom, with decorations in red and green, and the blue wisteria color that must be Vistaria’s national color. More people waited inside. More soldiers. More dark-eyed, sultry Vistarian women.

  Calli leaned forward a little to catch Minnie’s eye. “What have you got us into?” she demanded.

  “Only the party of the year, “ Minnie assured her.

  “Screw that,” Calli shot back. “Do you realize we’re the only Americans here?”

  Minnie looked puzzled. “And?”

  Duardo patted Calli’s fingers where they rested on the inside of his arm. “It will be all right,” he assured her quietly. “You are with me.”

  “Duardo, no offense, but I got chucked in jail last night because your fellow Vistarians took exception to me being in their country. Now we’re stepping inside a room full of patriotic Vistarians.”

  “These are good Vistarians,” he said and frowned. “They know Americans help us. They would not be rude.”