Page 76 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest
“Yeah, I’m clutching my pearls even as we speak. What’s your status?”
“We found a group of Farsi speakers. They broke away from the main group several hours ago and we followed them at a distance. We assumed they were heading for the base camp…”
“And?”
“And…we lost them.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“We’ll keep searching. They can’t be too far away. I just wanted you to know we’ll be out here longer than we planned.”
“How can we assist?”
“Just tell Gomez to keep the engine running. I’ve got a feeling things will get hot fast if we make contact.”
“You and Raven keep your heads on a swivel, okay?”
Linc chuckled. “No worries, boss. We got this.”
41
El Salvador
Juan, MacD, and Linda Ross had been ushered into the sumptuous dining room inside of President Olmedo’s private residence. The soaring floor-to-ceiling windows offered stunning views of a terrace overlooking a neatly trimmed lawn lined with flowering bougainvillea, delicate white ginger lily, star-shaped plumeria and, most dramatically, Izalco, El Salvador’s iconic volcano.
White-jacketed servers stood behind covered rolling carts by one of the grand windows as a barman prepared his service in a far corner. A round table set with china and crystal and bedecked with colorful flowers stood on the terrace. Three armed guards dressed in casual linen clothes stood watch on the deck. Another guard stood outside the interior doorway leading into the dining room.
The sprawling Spanish colonial–style mansion featured terra-cotta-tiled roofs, wrought-iron balconies, and arched windows. The hillside residence was nestled in a secluded valley at the base of Cerro Verde National Park, surrounded by fifty acres of dense tropical forest that provided complete privacy.
“Doc and Eddie are gonna wish they’d seen this place,” MacD said. The twoOregoncrew members were confined to their cabins, both stricken with the mosquito-borne Zika virus and unable to attend today’s festivities.
“I saw motion sensors, security cameras, and a few guards,” Linda said. “Not much in the way of executive security.”
“I’ve read President Olmedo has an eighty-five percent approval rating,” MacD said. “Who’s there to be afraid of?”
“It’s actually ninety percent in the latest poll,” a voice said from the doorway.
The threeOregonoperators turned in unison.
President Olmedo slipped into the dining room, his iconic beard split by a flashing thousand-watt smile. Tall and athletically built, the forty-something was dressed like a typical millennial soccer dad—jeans, Nikes, ball cap, and a pair of aviator sunglasses tucked into the collar of his light blue polo shirt. He approached Juan with his hand extended.
“You must be Señor Cabrillo.Mucho gusto.”
They shook hands.
“Igualmente, Señor Presidente.” Juan made the rest of the introductions, pleasant and informal.
Olmedo waved a hand at his attire. “Forgive me for not appearing more presidential, but my daughters had a tennis match and we only just returned.”
“And your lovely wife?” Linda asked. “Dr.Olmedo?”
“She’s on ER duty at the hospital. She’ll be jealous of our time together. Perhaps you’ll do us the honor of returning in the future?”
“We’re honored to be invited into your home,” Juan said. “It’s a very generous gesture.”
“The honor is mine. Perhaps a refreshment or two before we eat? My daughters will be delayed just a few more minutes. They very much want to meet the American heroes they’ve already heard so much about.”
“Just doing our job, sir,” Cabrillo said. “But I will take that drink.”
