Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(4)

“We?” She looked behind him.

“Minnie and I—” He looked around, then frowned. “She was right there. Where is she now? I swear she will be the death...” He started back to the door.

“Uncle Josh, wait. Can you tell me what this says? They want me to sign.”

He came back to the desk, muttering to himself, distracted by his daughter’s absence. He pulled reading glasses out of his breast pocket, slipped them on, then lifted the sheet and peered over the top of them to read. He dropped his chin to his chest for a better view. “Hmm...doesn’t seem too intimidating. You’re attesting that you have been treated well and given fair consideration during your incarceration.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “I’d sign it. They’re big on due process here, even though it doesn’t work like ours.”

“That surprises the hell out of me,” Calli raged. “Do you know where they’ve been holding me?”

He nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, yes. Sign, anyway. We don’t want to annoy them now you’re so close to the door.”

He had a point. Calli sighed, then signed on the line at the bottom.

The soldier’s smile was stiff. “Gracias, muchas gracias.” He put the sheet back under the desk.

Uncle Josh tucked his hand under Calli’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

“Hang on.” She looked at the soldier. “My bags,” she said. “I want them back.”

His smile faded. “Qué?”

“Uncle Josh, tell him. My luggage, my stuff. They have it somewhere.”

Josh cleared his throat, then spoke in Spanish that sounded English and awkward even to Calli’s uneducated ears.

The soldier shrugged and replied.

“Okaaaay,” her Uncle said. He blew his breath out. Then he tried another slow sentence in Spanish.

The soldier gave him a dirty look, then climbed the stairs, treading heavily.

“Is he coming back?” Calli asked.

“He might. Let’s give it a minute.”

Three minutes passed. The soldier returned with Calli’s shoulder bag hanging from his fingers. He put it on the desk, then shoved it toward her.

Calli took the bag. “Wow, what did you tell him?” she asked Josh.

“I said I would call the same people I called last time if he didn’t give you your things. I think. My Spanish is still horrible.”

“I want to ask you about that. About the people you called,” Calli said, looking through her bag. The wallet was missing. “The rest of my stuff?” she asked the soldier.

He looked her in the eye and crossed his arms. “No.”

“Even I understand that,” Calli murmured. She remembered what the red-headed man had said. Count yourself lucky no matter what is returned. It was hard to give up a suitcase of clothes and personal items, though.

“You got your handbag, Calli. I’d say call it quits and let’s go,” Josh said. He took her arm again and tugged. “Come on, let’s go home. Minnie can lend you clothes from that monstrous collection of hers. I’ll take you on a shopping trip, tomorrow.”

Calli studied the soldier, not breaking his stare, not willing to let him think he’d got the better of her. He professed to speak no English. He knew more than he admitted. She shook her head. “I wish you well of my clothes, soldier. Plus, whatever else you took out of my bag. I know you have them. I’m only dropping it because you have the home turf advantage. I will remember this, though.”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed. Otherwise, he didn’t react.

Calli let Uncle Josh pull her to the front door. They stepped into the busy, lantern-lit square. The night air refreshed her. She could smell the ocean. It was still warm. There was no need for a sweater. She no longer had a sweater to put on, anyway.

Josh looked around, frowning. “Where is she? I’m so glad you came, Calli.”

“You want me to play watchdog, Uncle Josh? Is that why you flew me here?”

He pushed his hand through his hair. That was why it looked so rumpled. “I don’t know what else to do,” he confessed. “I’m worried about Minnie, in this place. The troubles with the rebels, the tension. Even right here in the city. Beryl’s not well and I’ve got my hands full with setting up the mine. We’re starting from scratch, for god’s sake.” He swung his head from side to side, scanning the street for a sight of his daughter. “Where is she?”

Calli looked around for a petite brunette. Minnie would be difficult to spot among the thick swirls of people dancing and moving around the big square. On a temporary stage in the far corner, musicians with guitars, flutes and drums were playing. Their music was rhythmic and infectious. Calli tapped her foot. Her hips swayed in time to the languorous melody.

Most people in the square were swaying just as she was. Many of the women held up their arms, weaving their hands in the air with graceful motions. Their hips swung they turned, dipping and whirling. The men spun them, danced along with them for a few steps, their hands on the women’s hips. Then the women moved on to another man to dance beguilingly in front of him. Some couples, hips locked together, spun as a pair, their attention on each other.

The men, in contrast to the glowing colors the women wore, dressed almost completely in black—tight black pants and short black jackets, with white shirts beneath. Some of them wore the Spanish style flat-brimmed black hat and nearly all of them wore well-heeled boots. Some had discarded their jackets while they danced.