Chapter 43
Jennifer paid the cabbie in pesos, tipping him handsomely. He took the money and smiled at the largesse, saying, “Gracias,
gracias. Enjoy.”
Shoshana opened the door on the other side of the cab and the driver seemed to pause, considering the tip he’d been given.
He turned back around and, speaking in broken English, offered advice, saying, “This is a good place for visiting. Lots of
shopping and food, but don’t stay long past sundown, yes? You understand?”
Jennifer said, “Why?”
“Is no good in the dark for two women. Understand? Yes?”
Shoshana said, “We’ll be okay. Thanks for the advice.”
He nodded and smiled, saying, “Good place in daytime. Good place in daytime.”
Jennifer watched the cab drive away and said, “What’s up with that?”
Shoshana glanced around them, seeing a colorful array of buildings, all painted in bright pastels, some with balconies adorned
with cartoonish mannequins, giving the entire area a festive atmosphere. She pointed at the walls between the buildings, the
tranquil decorations belied by the thick rows of razor wire nailed to the top and said, “Apparently this area hasn’t completely
forsaken its seedy past.”
The shop from the maté credit card receipt was on a street called El Caminito in the barrio of La Boca.
Originally overrun with tenement housing for workers at the old port nearby, La Boca was still a poor workingman’s area, but El Caminito was a pedestrian walkway that thrived on tourism.
It was a single block full of artisan shops, tango dancers, and overpriced restaurants, each painted garish colors and festooned with balconies housing oversized statues of famous people like Eva Perón and Che Guevera, the grinning figures looking down on the patrons walking by reminding Jennifer of an old carnival funhouse.
Earlier in the day, Pike had ordered the team to pack up and leave Puerto Iguazú as soon as the Oversight Council meeting
had ended. During the planning on the flight down it was decided to approach the storefront first and simply ask for the credit
card number, offering a bribe if necessary. If that failed, they’d go to stage two and consider more clandestine approaches,
up to and including a B&E of the storefront.
After batting around ideas, Pike had determined that a female might have better luck than a male, as the store clerk would
have less suspicion of something nefarious, so Jennifer and Shoshana had been selected.
The cab had dropped them off at the entrance to the pedestrian street, and Jennifer hefted the bag holding the maté kit from
the hotel, saying, “I guess we just start asking around. The shop’s in there somewhere.”
They entered the promenade and simply walked its length once, getting accosted by aggressive restaurateurs and souvenir vendors
along the way, but failed to see a storefront with the name from the receipt. They reached the end, finding a wall between
them and the street beyond, and turned around.
Jennifer said, “I didn’t see anything like an address on anything, never mind the name of a store. Got any ideas?”
Shoshana said, “Did you see that flea market halfway down? It held a bunch of different shops. That might be it.”
Jennifer agreed, and they returned the way they’d come, stopping at the entrance of what looked like a saloon from an old
Hollywood western, a large sign above it in Spanish, the only English words proclaiming, “Flea Market.”
Jennifer pushed through the swinging doors and was astonished to find a large open-air courtyard, both sides lined with two stories of stores and cafés and jammed with shoppers.
She took a moment to survey the area and realized the market was refurbished from one of the old tenement worker housings, with each room converted to a different shop.
Shoshana said, “I’ll take the left, you take the right. We’ll do the downstairs first, and if we don’t find it, go to the
upstairs balconies.”
Jennifer nodded and went to the right side of the courtyard. She’d made it only to two shops, one selling T-shirts, the other
pottery, when her phone vibrated. She saw a text saying, “Found it.”
She looked across the courtyard and saw Shoshana wave. She scurried across, and Shoshana said, “Take a look through the window.”
Jennifer did and saw a wall stocked with maté kits. She pulled out the one from the hotel and said, “Yeah, same kit. Hopefully
these things aren’t made in China and everyone’s selling the same crap.”
Shoshana smiled and entered the shop. They threaded through the patrons and went straight to the checkout counter, seeing
a female of about twenty-five behind a register. To her left, sitting on a stool and playing with a smartphone, was an older
male with a face pockmarked from what looked like childhood acne. Shoshana remained quiet, letting Jennifer go through her
rehearsed speech.
Jennifer said, “Excuse me, I’m hoping you can help us.” The woman nodded, and Jennifer held up her maté kit, saying, “My husband
bought this for me, and I think he got it here.” She passed across the receipt and said, “Is this your store?”
The lady took the receipt, then looked apologetic, saying, “I’m sorry, there are no returns. All sales are final.”
“Oh no, we don’t want to return it. We just have a problem. My husband lost his credit card and this is the last place it
was used. He was wondering if he left it here.”
At that, the man on the stool looked up and Jennifer felt Shoshana stiffen. It was a small thing, but attuned to Shoshana’s
peculiarities, Jennifer noticed.
The woman said, “Let me check with my manager. Can you wait right here? I’ll see.”
Jennifer nodded, then glanced at Shoshana. She was laser-focused on the pockmarked man. He stood up and said, “May I see the
receipt?”
Jennifer showed it to him and he said, “A man used this card, not you. I was here when he bought this.”
Jennifer said, “I know. Like I told her, he’s my husband.”
The man nodded, then said, “Good luck finding the card in here,” and returned to his seat. Shoshana kept staring at him.
The woman returned, saying, “I’m sorry, but no card has been lost in our store.”
Which, of course, Jennifer expected. She pretended to take the news, then said, “Okay, well, we need to cancel that card and
we don’t know the number. Every time we call the bank, they want it. The receipt just shows the last four. Would it be possible
to find the transaction and at least just give me the whole number?”
The woman said, “I don’t know . . .”
The fact that Jennifer was holding the very item on the receipt seemed to sway her, and Jennifer pressed, saying, “You can
keep the security code if you’re worried we’re going to steal it or something. Just the number for the bank. Please? We did
buy this here, after all.”
The woman said, “I can’t.”
Jennifer held out a wad of pesos and said, “It would really help us.”
The woman glanced at the man on the stool, saw he was engrossed with his phone, and snatched the money. She said, “Wait here.”
She was gone for another thirty seconds, and Jennifer used the time to study the man, but he appeared bored. The clerk returned
and handed Jennifer a slip of paper, saying, “Don’t tell anyone.”
Jennifer smiled, saying, “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
They left the store and Jennifer said, “Well, that was easy. What was up with the man in there? You acted like he was the
Ghost himself.”
Shoshana said, “Let’s go to the second floor and get a coffee or soda.”
“Why?”
“I want to see what that man does. He’s bad.”
Jennifer didn’t argue. They found a wooden stairwell leading to the second-floor balcony and walked along it until they were
abreast of an ice cream shop with two small tables left and right of the door, the maté store below them across the courtyard.
Shoshana glanced down and saw the man through the window talking on a cell phone. He turned, facing the window and she quickly
looked away, saying, “Get a table. This will do.”
Jennifer pointed to one on the left side of the door, saying, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Shoshana took a seat, saying, “Get us something sweet and I will.”
Jennifer went inside and found the place crowded. She waited in line, bought two scoops of ice cream and returned to the table,
sliding one across and saying, “Okay, Carrie, what’s up?”
“That man with the pockmarks is bad. He was giving off nothing when we entered, but his aura went red the minute you pulled
out the maté kit and started talking about the credit card. When he came over and looked at the receipt, he went positively
molten. He knows that card, and he knows you don’t own it, but he said nothing.”
Jennifer was used to Shoshana’s talk of auras, even as she didn’t understand it. Shoshana had tried to explain it to her,
but to Jennifer it was like trying to explain what it felt like to taste color or hear an odor. It was something Shoshana
possessed that nobody on her team quite understood, but all respected. Somehow, she could sense a person’s intent by looking
at them. It wasn’t specific or concrete—more like a warning—and Jennifer would have scoffed at the notion in the past, but
she’d seen it in action and now believed it absolutely.
She said, “Okay, so you think that guy could be a better lead to follow than the card number?”
“Yeah, might be. Let’s just see what he does. Maybe we follow him to a vehicle or a bed-down site.”
Jennifer said, “Okay. Let me get Pike in motion.”
No sooner did she say the words when two men appeared next to their table. From Shoshana’s reaction to their arrival, Jennifer
didn’t even need to see the handgun one of them had, but he flashed it from under his jacket anyway.
In accented English, he said, “You two will come with me.”