Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(44)

While they waited for the food, Calli employed Duardo as an interpreter and arranged to use the hotel’s telephone. She placed a call to Josh’s office at the silver mine on Las Piedras Grandes, repressing her frustration at having to deal with an operator to place a simple long distance call. Using good English, the operator told her it would take a while, so Calli sat back at the table, a few feet away.

“What does piedras mean?” she asked Duardo.

“Rock. Boulder.”

She laughed. “Las Piedras Grandes...the big rock.”

“It is, too,” Duardo said. “Right at the end of the main island is las piedras. There is nothing on it.”

“Nothing but silver in vast quantities,” Minnie said.

“Yes. For many years, though, nothing.”

“How big is it?” Calli asked.

“You can drive across the island in twenty minutes,” Minnie said.

Duardo nodded. “I believe that is true. I have not been there.”

“No? Northern boy, huh?”

“Most certainly,” he agreed easily.

The food arrived then, steaming hot bowlfuls of what Calli took to be stew and plates of crisp tortilla-like wafers. There was also a bowl of something cream-colored and of the same consistency as a dip.

In Lozano Colinas, most of the dishes consisted of lots of fresh produce—salsa and piquant salads, along with just-browned meats and freshly made tortillas. In Pascuallita, the emphasis appeared to be different.

“No spoon, no fork,” Minnie muttered.

“No. Like this,” Duardo explained. He picked up the crisp wafer, dipped it in the creamy stuff and took a small bite, then indicated they should, too.

It tasted bland.

“Now try this,” he instructed and dipped the wafer into the bowl before him. The wafer emerged thickly coated with sauce and carrying a spoonful’s worth of what looked like carrots and perhaps meat.

Calli dipped into her bowl and ate. The stew was a savory delight, the vegetables crisp, the meat tender. Spices hit the back of her tongue and surprised her with their subtleness.

“Like?” Duardo asked.

Minnie frowned. “It’s not curry, I know that. It reminds me of curry, though. It’s great,” she assured him. “What is it?”

“Whatever it is, it’s never been in a can,” Calli declared. “That flavor you only get from blending and cooking well.”

“Three days,” Duardo said.

“And the meat?”

“Wild mountain goat. There are many around here. Try it with the tapenade.”

Calli ate with a relish, for she was ravenous. They had only had chocolate and a handful of crushed cookies on the train.

“This is what you eat all the time?” Minnie asked.

“Often. People cook here more than they do in the city. It is traditional and it is cooler. Nearly two thousand feet. We have bigger mountains in the north.” He did not hide his pride.

The call to Uncle Josh went through just as she finished her bowl. Calli sat at the bar and swiveled so the customers sitting a few stools away could not eavesdrop—even if they did know English.

“Calli? I got your note. You’re in Pascuallita?”

“Yes, we got off the train a while ago and we’re eating right now.”

He was silent for a moment. “I suppose there’s a good reason you’re up there?”

“Yes.”

“Should I worry, Calli? You left with no notice, in the dead of the night. And Pascuallita...I’ve heard rumors that Pascuallita is where the rebels would strike first.”

“Have you heard something might happen?”

“No. You be careful, anyway. Duardo is with you?”

“Yes.”

This time his silence was even longer. “Is he armed?” Uncle Josh asked, his tone awkward.

“Not that you’d notice, looking at him. Yes, he’s carrying a gun,” Calli murmured.

He sighed and she could see him in her mind, rubbing his hand through his hair. “Okay. Is Minnie there? Let me talk to her.”

*

After lunch, they stepped out of the tavern and looked around. The train station was directly in front of them. Because of the mountainous terrain, the platform lifted twenty feet higher than the road. Bright red, yellow and blue safety rails edged the platform and tubs of flowers sat beneath them, nodding in the little breeze that passed up the street. It was mid-afternoon, yet lots of people still moved about the street.

“No siesta?” Calli asked.

Duardo shook his head. “No heat,” he explained. “Why sleep away the day?”

Even though it was cooler at this elevation, there was still a mugginess in the air that reminded her they were in the tropics.

“We’d better be tourists,” Minnie said, dropping her sunglasses over her eyes, hitching her heavy overnight bag over her shoulder and looking around with interest. “Where are the shops, Duardo?”

“Ah, shopping, of course,” he said with laugh. “How silly of me to forget a matter of such importance.” He arranged his bags in his left hand, tucked Minnie’s hand under that elbow and turned her to face downhill. “This way,” he instructed. He waved for Calli to walk along beside him, yet he did not guide her with a touch to her arm or back as he had done in el colinas. The reason, when she figured it out, took some of the pleasantness out of the afternoon. He was keeping his gun hand free.