Life Blood---XXII---Page No 73

When I dialed the Belize number, however, the phone just rang and rang.

Come on. Somebody please pick up.

Then they did. Thank goodness. But when I asked for Steve—
        "So sorry, mon," came the proud Caribbean voice, "but Mr.
 Abrams check out Monday. Early in the morning."
        "Right, I know that. But he came back last night, didn't he?"
        "No, mon. He say he be coming back, to hold his room, but—"
        "He didn't come back?" I felt my palms go icy. Who was going
 to know where Sarah and I were? "What do you mean?"
        "He not coming back here, mon." The man paused and
mumbled something to another clerk, then came back on.
"Nobody seen him since. You want leave a message, that's okay.
But I don't know when—"

"No." I didn't know what to say. The implication was only

gradually sinking in. "No message. Thanks anyway. I'll try back
later."

"Any time, mon. No problem."

I hung up, trying to stay calm. Steve, where are you?

Okay, I told myself, you don't actually know something's

wrong. It could be anything. Still, it was very worrying. Steve, my one and only . . .

I was staring at the phone, wondering what my next move
should be. Whatever else, I've got to try to reach Lou, tell him I've
found Sarah. But then what? He certainly wasn't going to be any
help in getting us out. If he blundered his way down here, there
was a real chance he'd misread the delicacy of the situation and
end up getting us all "disappeared" by the Army. But still, I had to
tell him about her.

I picked up the handset again, keyed in the U.S. country
code, and tried the number for his place in Soho. He'd said he was going to be released from St. Vincent's today, so maybe he was home by now.

The familiar ring jangled half a dozen times and then . . .

"Crenshaw residence." It was the Irish tones of Mrs. Reilly, Sarah's day nurse. Hallelujah. I guessed she was there now taking care of Lou.

"Uh, this is Morgan James. Mr. Crenshaw's niece.

Remember? I came by. Is he home yet? I need to talk to him."
        "He's resting, dear. I was just about to go out and get some
things, milk and soup and the like."

"So . . . dare I ask? How is he?"

"He's weak, but I think he's going to be fine. If people will just let him be."

"Look, I hate to bother him, but it's really an emergency. I'm calling from Guatemala."

"Oh. I truly don't know if he's awake, dear. He was napping a while ago."

"Could you . . . could you go and see? Please. And take the
phone?"

"Just a minute." She sounded reluctant, but I could hear her
movements as she shuffled across the loft. I listened, wondering
how long Alex Goddard was going to be away, and then a
moment later . . .

"Yeah." There was a rustle as Lou got a grip on his cordless. "Morgan, is that you? Where the hell are you now?"
        It took me a second to even find my voice, I was so thrilled to
hear him. He sounded just like always.

"Hey, how's it going, champ?" I said. Come on, Lou. Get well.
Fight.

"I started having these migraines, but they gave me some

medicine—"

"Listen." I cut him off, and immediately felt guilty I'd been so impatient. "I'm up in northern Guatemala and I've found Sarah."
        "Oh, my God." That was followed by a long silence, probably
an emotional meltdown. "Is she all right?"

What was I going to say? That she'd been brainwashed or

worse by Alex Goddard? That we were both in his clutches, cut off from the world, and in deep, deep trouble?

"She's able to stand," I said.

I don't remember what white lies I eventually managed to tell him. I think it was something like, "She's being treated for a postcoma syndrome by a medical specialist. I've found out that when she was in Guatemala before, she was given some very bad
drugs, and someone here who knows about them is trying to
reverse some of the damage."

"Alex Goddard, right?" There was no BS-ing Lou for very long. "That bastard."

"Lou, I'm going to get her out of here and back home as soon
as possible. Everything's going to be all right. Don't worry. It's
really too complicated to try and explain over the phone."
        "Yeah, well, I'm coming. Soon as I'm up. I'm gonna take that
son of a bitch by the—"

"Don't. Don't you go anywhere. I'm handling it, okay?"