Life Blood ---XVII---Page No--55

discuss a favor. A small helping hand." He seemed to be

searching for a sales point. "For old times' sake."

"For old times' sake?" Dupre appeared to be having trouble with the concept.

"Yeah. All we want is to hear a little talk of the town." He

gazed out over the square, Uzi-toting police still strolling by. "You
know, local information of the kind that doesn't make the papers."
        "Right," I said. "For starters, how could a gringa sort of melt
into the Peten rain forest, disappear for months and months, and
then end up in a coma?" I'd decided to feel him out before going
for the bigger questions.

"People disappear down here all the time, and nobody in their
right mind goes around inquiring why." Dupre seemed genuinely
astonished that anyone would find such a thing unusual. He also
was fingering a cigarette pack in his breast pocket, clearly
nervous about the quick turn our conversation had taken.
"Whatever's your problem in Guatemala, just forget about it. Drink
some cerveza, take a few snapshots of the picturesque natives,
and then move on to a civilized place. This is a land of mystery,
lady, and the people who matter like it that way. There are those
here who take their privacy very seriously."

Just like Alex Goddard's Children of Light, I thought. Or Ninos
del Mundo, or whatever it's called. It was chilling to hear Alan
Dupre backing away so quickly from my question. The guy
seemed truly scared under all the bluster. I also observed that his
eyes were curiously small, out of proportion to his face. I hadn't
noticed it at first.

"Well," I went on, determined to push him, "an old landing
card for the person I'm looking for said her destination was a
place called Ninos del Mundo, up in the Peten. I assume that's
somewhere in the northern rain forest, right? So I guess what I
want to know is, does that name stir up any connections?"

He looked around, then extracted a Gauloise from a blue

pack and lit it with a wooden match, flicking the tip with his

fingernail. He inhaled, taking his time. "Well, maybe I've heard a
little something about a place some people call by that name." He
drew again on the cigarette. "And the story might include a female
American tourista or two—about one a year, actually—who've sort
of melted into the forest never to be seen more. I'm not exactly
sure where it is, though. Or even if what you hear is true. But who
cares? Come on, guys, this is Guatemala, for chrissake. Shit
happens. Get a life."

"The embassy, or the CIA, or anybody ever carry out an inquiry?" I felt my energy rising. "A woman every year or so? I went by Reforma Avenue yesterday and nobody there seems to have ever heard of any of this."

"No kidding." He snorted. "Whatever happened that place, our
caring embassy, ain't gonna do zip—don't faint at the news—and
there's no way the Company's going to pull their old-time Yankee
number, roll in with the beige sunglasses, and yell, 'Okay, you
peons, we're here to take names and kick butt. What happened to
our national?' They've recently acquired a habit of taking local
situations at face value. Makes for a lot better tables at the tony
supper clubs in town."

This guy liked to talk, I realized but he had no interest in going beyond glib one-liners. I glanced at Steve, and I could tell he was having the same thoughts.

"Tell you what," Steve said finally, "how about this? Tell us
whatever you know about how to find this place, and maybe we
can adjust the terms on the money you screwed me out of. I might
settle for something less on the dollar and let bygones be
bygones."

"Hey, man, you'll get your money. I'm good for it." Dupre

sighed and drew on his Gauloise. "It's just that things are a little tight right now, you know." He paused. "Matter of fact, I was hoping you might be able to spare a couple of bills for a week or so. But I guess . . ." His voice trailed off.

Alan Dupre knew something I needed to know, or might know it. Steve had definitely found the right guy in that regard. But he
clearly was cautious to the point of paralysis as he kept furtively glancing around. What was he so fearful of, and what could I do to convince him to help me?

I stood gazing at the dark sky for a long moment, and

then I had an off-the-wall idea, a long shot, the all-or-nothing take
you go for when the sun is dying and the unions are looking at
overtime.

"You do tourist flights, right?" I started, still working on the

idea. "So how about pretending I'm an eco nut? A lover of the rain
forest. You can tell whoever you're so afraid of that you're taking
me up into the wilds to show me jaguars or something. A regular
tour. Just cruising around, taking in the sights. Totally innocent.
And then if we accidentally scouted a little, maybe we could find
the place."