The Fountains of Silence(74)

“It’s nothing, se?or,” says Carlitos, his high voice full of humor. “Remember, here at the hotel we understand the importance of privacy.”



* * *





Once in the elevator, Daniel pulls the message slips from his pocket.

    9:45 a.m. From Tom Collins

Request meeting. Important.



A meeting with Tom Collins. Instant smile.

    10:30 a.m. From Nicholas Van Dorn

Come over for my birthday lunch around 2:00 p.m.



The corridor of the seventh floor is quiet. He removes the photo badge from his pocket and reattaches it to his camera strap. Hopefully he can take to the street and snap some photos before Ben wakes up. With an official badge, the guards—those Crows—won’t be able to stop him. He lets himself into his room. It’s warm and sunny. The balcony door is open just as he likes it.

His jeans and plaid shirt are waiting on the bench at the end of the bed, as if Ana knows the first thing he’ll do is abandon the suit. He looks to the wall, wondering if she has seen his new caption. Is that why she wants to meet? Then he realizes.

His picture and caption are still on the wall, but several of the photos aren’t.

They’re gone.





95



Daniel rushes to the hotel lobby. Of course Ana took the pictures, but why? He spots Carlitos near the entrance of the hotel.

“Buttons, I need a favor. It’s important.”

“Sí, se?or. Tell me.”

“Find Ana and give her this message. Tell her, ‘Room 760 needs towels.’”

“Ay, se?or, but I see Lorenza just over there. She can get one for you now.”

“No, tell Ana only. Just Ana.”

Carlitos’s small mouth puckers in an attempt to understand.

Daniel hands a one-dollar bill to Carlitos. The boy’s eyes expand.

“Sí,” nods Daniel. “This is an important one, Buttons. Just tell Ana that I need towels.”

Carlitos quickly crunches the bill in his palm, so it can’t escape. “Room 760 needs towels. Tell Ana only.” He takes off running, as if the building is on fire.

Daniel returns to his room. The phone rings. It’s Nick.

“I’m having people over for lunch at the villa. Join us.”

“Yeah, I got your message.” Daniel hesitates. Everything with Nick feels like a trap.

“It’s casual. No ties.” He then adds, “And no parents. C’mon, it’s my birthday!”

There’s a knock at Daniel’s door.

“Maybe I’ll stop by.” He hangs up and heads for the door.

Ana stands in the hallway, glowing and radiant. “I was told you needed towels, se?or?”

“Sí.”

She steps into the room and Daniel quickly closes the door.

“You received my message?” she asks.

“Yes, and I saw that the pictures are gone.”

The smile slips from Ana’s face. “What do you mean?”

“You took a few of the pictures.”

“No, I didn’t.” She sets down the towels and runs to the wall. She lifts her hand, fingers scanning across the images. She turns to Daniel. “One photo of Rafa, one photo of Fuga, and . . . the nun with the baby.”

“You didn’t take them?”

“No.” Ana’s face blanches with concern. “I was here in your room until after ten. All of the photos and captions were still here.” She goes to Daniel’s jeans, folded on the bench. She reaches into the pocket and removes a note.

“Is that for me?”

She nods and takes a step back. Her fist closes tightly around the paper, her voice drops to a whisper. “Se?or, this is very bad. Someone has been in your room. The captions that I—that Tom wrote. They were too honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m the only one assigned to your room unless you call downstairs. Did you request anything?”

“I wasn’t here. I just got back.”

Daniel runs to the closet. He grabs his cowboy boot and reaches inside. His hand reappears, holding the negatives. His shoulders exhale in relief.

“No one knows you wrote the captions, Ana. They’ll think I wrote them.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Whoever’s been in my room.”

Tears pop and stream down Ana’s face.

“No, hey, don’t cry.” He moves to Ana and reaches for her hand. “They’re just photos. I have the negatives and I’ll reprint them. Ben probably took them. He mentioned he could use them. Really. Please, don’t cry.”

“But this is dangerous.”

“Dangerous? You mean it’s dangerous for you to help me?”

“Yes . . . and no. It’s not just the photos.” She extends the crumpled note to Daniel.

    Can I talk to you?



He reads the message; his eyes shift to her. “Ana,” he says quietly.

“Not here,” she whispers, as if someone were listening. “I have a break at five. Meet me in the garden of the Sorolla Museum.” Ana looks up at him. “I’ll be on the bench near the secret fountain.”