Free Eye for an Eye by Ben Coes Page B

Alvaro’s hand, then Sabina’s. “It was great.”
    “Mr. Andreas, nice to meet you.”
    “Hi,” said Dewey, shaking their hands.
    “Our truck is out front,” said Alvaro.
    “Your mother said to tell you not to drive too fast,” said Jessica, looking at the boy.
    “She did?” he laughed. “That’s embarrassing. I don’t drive too fast. Always she says this, but it’s not true.”
    “What are you talking about?” asked Sabina. “Are you crazy? You’re insane. I’m driving.” She rolled her eyes and looked at Jessica. “He’s terrible. He drives like he rides. Crazy.”
    “I’ll be careful,” said Alvaro. “And please don’t forget, Sabby, I have the keys.” He taunted Sabina by dangling them over her head.
    Dewey glanced at Jessica, then smiled.
    *   *   *
    Alvaro drove the white Range Rover reasonably well, not too fast, except for a few times, at which point Sabina would scream at him to slow down.
    The Córdoba region was located halfway between Buenos Aires and Chile, at the geographic center of the country. The region was an important agricultural center, home to wineries, as well as cattle and sheep farms. It was also home to some amazing ranches, including Colibri, nestled in a lush valley that spread for hundreds of miles in the vale of the Sierras Chicas mountain range.
    The ranch was an hour’s drive from Córdoba, between the towns of Jesús Maria and Santa Catalina. It was ranch country, and everywhere to the west were the undulating peaks of the Sierras Chicas. The ranch began as a dirt road off the main road north of Jesús Maria. There were no signs or visible outcroppings to distinguish it from any of the other dirt roads.
    “How many acres?” asked Dewey.
    “Five thousand,” said Sabina. “Our grandfather bought the land when he was twenty-two. Most is prairie, some woods.”
    “Did he build the ranch?” asked Dewey.
    “Father did. Grandfather bought it when he was on a hunting trip, then he never returned, not once. Our father was given the land. He came to visit when he was twenty and fell in love with a woman from Santa Catalina, our mother.”
    The gravel road seemed to go on forever. After more than a mile, a small, modern building appeared in the distance, illuminated by lights. Next to the glass-and-stucco building was a neatly manicured polo field.
    “The polo house,” said Alvaro. “Have you played before?”
    “Not me,” said Jessica.
    Just past the polo house, a dark green picket fence marked a new road off to the right. In the distance, a massive, rambling building could be seen, sprinkled with yellow light from windows. They drove down the driveway to the front of the building. A small fountain at the center of the circle driveway shot water up. The main house was white stucco with brown trim and looked Spanish. It spread out from left to right, a picturesque, stunning expanse of windows, rounded dormers, columns, porches, and beautiful flowers; in fact, in every direction, the grounds were covered in flower gardens.
    Already parked in front of the entrance was a black sedan and a black Suburban.
    Jessica glanced at Dewey.
    “Our welcome party,” she whispered.
    Dewey and Jessica climbed out, then went inside. A group of people were standing just inside the entrance. Two people who were tanned and dressed in casual clothing, a tall man with deep tan lines, and his wife, a dark-skinned beauty: the owners, the Sabellas. Next to them were two men with pasty white skin, golf shirts, and khakis. Perhaps at a public golf course in some American suburb somewhere they would have blended in, but here they stuck out like sore thumbs.
    “You must be the Sabellas,” Dewey said to the Secret Service agents as he walked inside. Everyone started laughing.
    “I’m Nico,” said the tall tan man, stepping forward. “Welcome to Colibri.”
    “Nice to meet you,” said Jessica.
    “I’m Maria,” said the woman. “How was the ride? Did Alvaro manage to scare