Free A Dangerous Game by Lucinda Carrington

smiled at him and received a solemn
    stare back.
     
    "How did this happen?"   she asked the equally impassive mother.
     
    "They won't answer you."   Jacey turned and saw a plump young woman in a
    white overall standing behind her.
     
    "I'm Paloma," the woman said.
     
    "Your helper."
     
    "You're a nurse?"   Jacey enquired.
     
    Paloma smiled sunnily.
     
    "No, I'm not qualified at all.   But I've picked up lots of knowledge
    since I've been working here."   She turned to the boy and his mother
    and said something in a guttural language Jacey did not recognise.   The
    woman smiled, turned and walked away.
     
    "What language was that?"   Jacey asked.
     
    "Chachte," Paloma said.
     
    "One of the old languages.   You know, the ones the people spoke before
    the Spanish came."
     
    "And you speak it too?"
     
    Paloma shrugged.
     
    "I had to learn some of it.   Lots of the Indians won't speak Spanish.
    They think it'll bring them bad luck.   And when you read how the early
    settlers used to treat them, you can't blame them.   I mean, I'm Spanish
    but some of the things my ancestors did make me ashamed."
     
    Jacey soon realised that Paloma was a non-stop talker.   As she dealt
    with a succession of patients, some silent, others chattering volubly,
    she lea mt more about public opinion in Techtatuan than any of Major
    Fairhaven's carefully worded briefing papers had taught her.
     
    "That's it," Paloma said, at last.   She glanced at her watch.   Time for
    a quick coffee."
     
    She led Jacey to the tiny staff restroom.   A sluggish ceiling fan
    stirred the hot air.   Travel posters were pinned to the walls in an
    effort to brighten up the rather dismal decor.
     
    Paloma unlocked a cupboard.
     
    "You mustn't leave any valuables here unless you lock them up," she
    warned Jacey.
     
    "That includes coffee and cups.   The people are poor and they will
    steal things to use or sell."
     
    She added aggressively: "You can't blame them.   You'd do the same, if
    you were poor."
     
    "I would," Jacey agreed.
     
    There was a small picture stuck on the inside of Paloma's cupboard
    door.   It was a pencil portrait of a handsome young man with a neat
    beard wearing a military style fatigue cap.   His large eyes had an
    expression of soulful fervour.   A faint circle behind his head hinted
    at a halo.
     
    "Who's that?"   Jacey asked Paloma.   She already knew the answer.
     
    Paloma hesitated for a moment.
     
    "Oh, no one really," she said awkwardly.
     
    "Someone gave it to me."   She smiled.
     
    "He's good-looking, isn't he?   That's why I kept it."
     
    Jacey took a gamble.
     
    "He doesn't look so handsome on the reward posters."
     
    "So?"   Paloma looked at her calculatingly.
     
    "You've heard about Lohaquin?"
     
    "Not really," Jacey said.
     
    "Only rumours.   I'd like to hear the truth."
     
    "Well, you won't hear it from a stupid girl like Paloma."   The sound of
    Dr.   Rodriguez's voice startled Jacey.   He glared at the Spanish
    girl.
     
    "I've told you before about pinning up those drawings.   You're turning
    a terrorist into some kind of saint."
     
    "So you think Lohaquin is a terrorist?"   Jacey asked.
     
    Rodriguez turned to face her.
     
    "What would you call a man who is supposed to have an army hidden in
    the rain forest and who says he wants to take over the country?"
     
    "I'd call him an optimist," Jacey said.   She hesitated.
     
    "Or maybe even a hero."
     
    Rodriguez snorted.
     
    "Then you're as stupid as Paloma.   I hope you don't go around voicing
    opinions like that.   They'll get you into a lot of trouble."   He
    scowled at Jacey.
     
    "And if you think your precious British passport will save you, you
    don't understand men like Nicolas Schlemann."
     
    "I thought he was a financier," Jacey said, 'not a policeman."
     
    "He's anything and everything," Rodriguez said.
     
    "He has far too much power and he's very dangerous."   For a moment,
    Jacey thought she saw