"Joe!" The familiar voice detonated on the crackly line. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Obergruppenführer." Still queasy from his voyage, Joe rested his head against the handset abraded from years of sweaty ears, sea salt and terracotta dust. He turned his back on the eavesdropping bartender.
"Joe, thank God," He heard John Smith exhale, pictured his pristine uniformed shoulders easing. "Where are you?"
"Mexico," Joe swayed and wondered how he was going to explain this time. He swore he could hear John's fists and teeth clenching.
"With the girl? You've eloped with the traitor?"
"No I'm alone. Juliana is..." He wanted to say dead to protect her, but he knew John wouldn't buy it and he wouldn't risk lying again. "She's still in San Francisco with the reel of film."
"Joe, you useless piece of motherfu... What happened to the money I sent you?"
"It's a long story," Joe closed his eyes as memories of imprisonment by the Yakuza surfaced through his seasickness. "You can debrief me when I come back to New York."
There was a pause. "How long have you been in Mexico?"
"Only about twenty minutes, Obergruppenführer." Joe squinted as his gaze drifted back over the bustling quayside out to the turbulent turquoise ocean that had carried him here so brutally.
"I need money to get home," Joe mumbled sheepishly. "I ran away, but it was a mistake. I need to get back to New York."
"No, Joe," John spoke methodically. "You're going back to San Francisco to get the film and kill the girl."
"I won't do that." Joe closed his eyes. "She saved my life again, Obergruppenführer. If I ever go back to San Francisco it'll be to marry her."
Joe flinched at the silent rage emanating from the handset. "You'd like her..." He pleaded.
"Joe," John sighed. "There's been a lot of misfortune lately. A lot of deaths. Have you noticed that you're still alive?"
Joe grimaced. I may as well be dead. A life without Juliana is worse than death.
"Here's what I'm going to do." John suddenly sounded energised. Decisive. "I'll find a body. Same height as you. Arrange your funeral. You can stay in Mexico. An operative over the border could be useful to me."
Joe crumpled. "What about Juliana?"
"Oh, I'll take care of her."
"No... Please Obergruppenführer I know you're a good man. Merciful."
"I'm all out of mercy, Joe."
Click
"Obergruppenführer? Obergruppenführer?"
Joe replaced the handset and glared at the shrewd, observant bartender.
"Quieres una habitación?" The bartender sucked on his ragged cigarette. The "You want a room?"
"Just for one night," Joe nodded. "I'm sailing home tomorrow."