Page 17 of Vistaria Has Fallen
Chapter Four
Supper was a long, multi-course meal served on silver platters by dozens of waiters. It ended with a standing toast for the general’s birthday. Then the hotel staff wheeled out a massive six-foot-high cake and parked it in the middle of the dance floor.
Big enough for a pretty girl to jump out of the middle,Calli thought.
With a fanfare of trumpets, the top of the cake poppedopen. Who emerged was not a scantily clad girl. Instead, a mature woman appeared. She held a Spanish hat in her hand and a rose between her teeth, dressed in a traditional Flamenco costume that encased her bountiful figure in red satin. She paused at the top, a hand in the air, for effect.
The room full of soldiers went wild. Calli heard a low chant; “Conchita, Conchita!”
Four men rushed tohelp her to the floor. Staff rolled the cake away while another escorted General Blanco to a chair on the dance floor. Conchita shimmied her way across the floor to drop the hat on his head, a kiss on his cheek and the rose in his hand. He laughed, playing up to her. With a toss of her head, at the rumble of Spanish guitar chords, she went into a wild dance in front of him.
The soldiers in theroom remained on their feet, clapping to the music, stamping, their hips moving in time to the music. Their backs hid most of the dance floor from Calli. The lead weight that had been in her stomach since she learned Nicolás Escobedo’s identity gave her no enthusiasm for the floor show and no reason to stand or strain to see.
Instead she found her attention wandering upward, above the heads ofthe soldiers in front of her. She looked up at the gallery that ran around three sides of the room. A stone balustrade edged the balcony and tall columns supported arches that framed the top of the gallery. There was little light up there. The balcony was deserted. If she could find a way up there, she would be alone for a while and she could watch the show.
Better than sitting here alone.
She got to her feet and slipped between the ranks of soldiers to the side of the room. Their table was at the edge of the room and close to the door. It was far from the head table and the dance floor, as Duardo and his friends were junior officers.
Calli found the stairs to the balcony and climbed slowly, tiredness seeping through her. She had not slept on the plane and last night her dreamshad robbed her sleep of any restfulness. The last few hours had been thick with action and events that took her attention away from the growing weariness. Now she was alone, she registered it as an ache in her bones, gnawing at her.
She emerged at the top of the stairs and stepped through a doorway onto the balcony. The door was hidden by a wall that jutted along the front of the gallery forsix feet before the stone balustrade began. She walked along the balcony until she passed the wall and could gaze upon the ballroom. It was a sea of military uniforms. The round tables with their pristine white tablecloths stood in stark contrast to the uniforms’ darker hues. Shadows covered most of the room. On the gallery opposite Calli a single operator trained a spotlight on Conchita on the dancefloor. To Calli’s right was the huge entrance to the ballroom. The doors’ arched tops reached up to where she stood, fifteen feet above the floor of the ballroom.
The slender columns that held up the arches over the balcony were not so miniscule, this close. They were five feet in diameter, solid granite and designed to last generations. The smooth stone of the closest column was cool againsther bare shoulder. She sighed and relaxed against the support. The noise was less, this high. She hadn’t realized how loud it had become.
“Your cousin has found herself some interesting friends.” The words, low and quiet, came from her right, close by.
Calli jerked around, startled.
Nicolás Escobedo leaned against the wall next to the stairwell door, hidden from below. He was only four feetaway. As she spun to face him he lifted a hand and made a small calming motion.
“Jesus Christ!” she breathed. “Did you follow me up here?”
“Yes.”
“I’m surprised you even know where I was sitting.”
He did not smile. “You underestimate yourself.”
“I think I have a good grasp of my place in the grand Vistarian scheme—yours, too.”
He smiled. “You’ve been listening to Duardo.”
“Along with manyothers.” She took a breath, trying halt her heart’s frantic pattering. “Why did you come up here?”
He straightened from his lean. “There are things that should be said.”
“Now that I know who you are,” she added. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you...why did you let me...?” She grimaced. “Never mind.”
“You think your offer foolish because there is no chance that I, being who I am, would everconsider it. So you feel shame for beggaring yourself that way.”
She swallowed with a throat gone dry. “Yes,” she breathed. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his eyes.
He held her gaze, not letting her go. “I watched the light leave your eyes when you heard my name. I saw you remember what you said at the station. That is why I stand here. I did not like watching your spirit die. Do you notknow how refreshing it is to be made such an offer by a woman who has no idea who I am?”
Her mouth opened as her jaw sagged. “I imagined you have women throw themselves at you every day and I was just one of dozens—of no passing concern. A moment’s amusement.”
“Therefore, you squirm with shame for responding to a natural impulse.”
