Eye for an Eye by Ben Coes Page B

shifts.”
    Raul took the scope from Chang and looked for the vehicle. He found the small specter of the Suburban in the distance. There were no signs of life from the black SUV.
    “How do you know someone’s even in there?” asked Raul.
    “There’s someone there,” said Hu-Shao. “Be patient.”

 
    16
    ESTANCIA EL COLIBRI
CÓRDOBA
    Dewey and Jessica arrived at the polo house, which looked deserted. Out back of the building they came upon Alvaro, sitting on a chair, shirt off, soaking in some morning sun. His eyes were closed. Earbuds were in. In his right hand was a joint, which he was puffing away on, as his head moved rhythmically up and down to the music.
    “Awkward,” said Jessica, as the boy eyed her, then Dewey, then abruptly turned and fell from the chair, onto the grass. He leapt to his feet. He dropped the joint and stomped on it with his boot as he exhaled.
    Dewey started laughing.
    “If you tell my parents—”
    “Oh, man, that’s insulting,” said Dewey.
    “Aren’t you government people?” he asked, getting to his feet, embarrassed.
    “Tell you what,” said Dewey. “Get us a couple of horses and we won’t fly you to Guantánamo.”
    Alvaro got a big grin on his face.
    “Deal,” said Alvaro. “I have the perfect horses for you.”
    Alvaro showed them around the stables. The barn itself was a long, light green rectangular building with a red tin roof. Inside, more than forty horses were stabled. Near the middle of the long line of horses, Alvaro stopped at a large, black stallion.
    “This is my father’s,” he said. “A beautiful horse. A champion. Very smart. You can handle him.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Da Gama.”
    In the stable next to Da Gama, a smaller, black-and-tan filly leaned over the railing and put her snout next to Jessica’s head, then licked her before she even knew the horse was there.
    “Thea,” said Alvaro. “My mother’s.”
    *   *   *
    Alvaro outfitted Thea while Dewey got Da Gama ready. They climbed onto the horses and moved out through the stable door.
    The stallion beneath Dewey gave him a familiar feeling. He’d grown up riding and loved the feeling, the bond, between a rider and a horse. As he rode Da Gama out onto the green grass next to the stables, looking at the mountains in the distance, he reached down and ran his right hand along Da Gama’s neck.
    Jessica trailed behind him.
    Alvaro came out onto the lawn.
    “What’s the lay of the land?” asked Dewey. “Anything we need to watch out for?”
    “Don’t go beyond the northern fork of the river,” said Alvaro, pointing toward the mountains. “Da Gama will know how to get back, but I would keep in sight.”
    Dewey grinned at Jessica.
    “You ready?”
    “I’m ready.”
    *   *   *
    They rode south for two hours. The views were stunning, the kind no picture book could ever do true justice to. Mountains streaked bluegreen and, on top, white with snow; valleys of fields that ran for miles, balkanized by wildflowers, heaving in the breeze, like a Chinese fan; red-tailed hawks soaring above, then streaking through the air toward earth, diving at the ground and grabbing a rodent before lifting back off into the blue, cloudless sky.
    When they hit a slow-running stream, they stopped beneath an ancient elm tree to let the horses drink.
    For as long as she could remember, Jessica had wanted to fall in love, to get married, to have a family. She’d dreamed of wedding dresses, bridesmaids, china settings, a honeymoon. Yet Jessica had never found someone. She’d lived through the marriage whirlwind of late twenties to mid-thirties, attending at least two dozen weddings of her friends.
    The truth is, she could’ve married any number of men who’d courted her over the years, accomplished men, one of the top attorneys in Washington, a widowed U.S. senator, the British ambassador to the United States, wealthy businessmen.
    Jessica looked toward Dewey. He turned and smiled.
    “Nice out