Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter- I love you all!
One reviewer did bring up a pertinent point, which I would like to address: The bit about Sands' DNA. Believe me, my friend, I am more than aware of how 'fiddly' such a check can be, and that this is, well, just plain unlikely. But honestly, the entire movie was highly unlikely, from Sands being allowed to keep his badge when (pardon my bad pun) anyone with eyes could see that he was dangerously psychotic, on down the list to El's surviving being shot multiple times in the chest and torso, not to mention Marquez living through his heart-shot. So really, I guess I was just sticking to theme there. In the future, however, I'll be more careful, knowing I have you watching me ;-).
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They drove for nearly half an hour, until at last Sands broke the silence by asking, "So if Barillo and his daughter are dead, who's in charge of the cartel these days?"
"Why are you asking me?"
Sands shrugged. "I thought you might know. After all, they're your family."
"Only in the loosest sense of the word," she said bitterly. "But if I was asked to guess, I would say that my cousin Marisa would be in charge now. She was your 'Ajedrez's' younger sister."
Sands hissed something vicious-sounding under his breath.
She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Mari is every bit as ruthless as her older sister, perhaps more so. She always felt second- best, and it made her bitter and angry, even as a young child. You know, 'the heir and the spare'," Estrella joked.
"You knew her as a child?" Sands asked, surprised. He assumed she had been 'adopted' by here uncle and the cartel as a teenager, based on what she had told him earlier- it had never occurred to him that that might not have been the case.
"Of course," said Estrella casually. "My parents died when I was five years old, and my uncle cared for me after that. Well, perhaps 'cared for' is the wrong term to use," she amended. "He saw to my needs, and I lived in his house. His daughters were like my sisters from then on. What they did, I did. What they learned, I learned."
"How to be a young lady," Sands supplied with a straight face. "Proper etiquette. How to dress for state functions and formal parties. Ballet lessons."
He could almost see her grin; nearly as wicked as his own. "Oh, yes," she agreed, her tone matching his perfectly in seriousness. "You forgot the bit about hosting formal tea parties."
"How silly of me," said Sands easily. "I expect I also forgot things like espionage, weaponry, martial arts, strategy, foreign languages, and organized crime."
"The skills of a good AFN agent," she said quietly.
"Or a great cartel member," Sands retorted.
"Si," she whispered. "Or that."
Sands could sense her guard beginning to come down. He let his training take over, enjoying the sensation of power he got from it. If this were a CIA interrogation (a specialty of his), he would know he was about to get what he wanted to know from her.
"You worked with the AFN for a short time, didn't you?" he asked, keeping his tone light.
"Si," she said again. "On my uncle's orders. He wanted someone inside their organization, making sure they didn't get to close to catching anyone important from the cartel."
Playing a hunch, he said, "And what about Ajedrez? Did you help her get a position with them?"
"I did. For a time, everything worked perfectly. But then," she paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, and went on, "Something went wrong."
Sands waited.
"I failed to find out about a field agent's investigation of my uncle soon enough. I was forced to go after the man myself, and when I got to my uncle's home, I found the man and five other agents there, arresting him. Him, the head of the whole cartel, like some common drug-runner."
Sands whistled low. "Six AFN agents. You killed them?"
"Si," she said simply.
"What about Ajedrez?" he asked, frowning. "Why didn't she find out about the investigation and help you?"
"By that time she was involved in another, more pressing project," Estrella said evasively.
"Me," said the agent, without a moment's hesitation.
"You," she agreed. "After my failure, my uncle decided I was a liability to him, so he betrayed me to my former colleagues in the AFN. I understand he made quite a lot of money out of the deal. The government was willing to pay handsomely for information leading to the capture of such a dangerous criminal."
"So the AFN came after you," he murmured, thinking hard. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but there were several that didn't seem to fit the picture he was getting.
"For a time," she said casually. "But after a while they lost interest. I simply vanished for a while, 'lying low', as Americans say. My uncle was most disappointed in them, and was forced to look elsewhere for help in getting rid of me. He had neither the manpower nor the inclination to eliminate me himself, so he sought... professional help."
"CIA help?" Sands hazarded.
"Agent Mark Thompson, CIA."
Sands burst out laughing. "That bastard? Jesus, he and I flew down here together on our first assignment! He just wouldn't shut up, ever! I hated that son of a *****!"
She chuckled. "So did I. Somehow I doubt he'll be bothering either of us again, considering what I did to him."
Sands favored her with a blood-thirsty smile. "Oh, do tell."
She did.
The smile on his face became rather forced. He swallowed, feeling slightly nauseous, fighting to control his reaction. "For seven days?" he croaked.
"Until it killed him," she said lightly. "It was closer to eight, actually, now that I think back. He was in pretty good physical shape- at first, anyway."
Sands said nothing. He had hated Thompson, it was true, but what Estrella had done to him made even Sands slightly queasy. Changing the subject, he asked, "Where are we going, anyway?"
She made no comment on the change of topic, replying, "We're going to see a mutual friend- Jorge Ramirez."
One reviewer did bring up a pertinent point, which I would like to address: The bit about Sands' DNA. Believe me, my friend, I am more than aware of how 'fiddly' such a check can be, and that this is, well, just plain unlikely. But honestly, the entire movie was highly unlikely, from Sands being allowed to keep his badge when (pardon my bad pun) anyone with eyes could see that he was dangerously psychotic, on down the list to El's surviving being shot multiple times in the chest and torso, not to mention Marquez living through his heart-shot. So really, I guess I was just sticking to theme there. In the future, however, I'll be more careful, knowing I have you watching me ;-).
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They drove for nearly half an hour, until at last Sands broke the silence by asking, "So if Barillo and his daughter are dead, who's in charge of the cartel these days?"
"Why are you asking me?"
Sands shrugged. "I thought you might know. After all, they're your family."
"Only in the loosest sense of the word," she said bitterly. "But if I was asked to guess, I would say that my cousin Marisa would be in charge now. She was your 'Ajedrez's' younger sister."
Sands hissed something vicious-sounding under his breath.
She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Mari is every bit as ruthless as her older sister, perhaps more so. She always felt second- best, and it made her bitter and angry, even as a young child. You know, 'the heir and the spare'," Estrella joked.
"You knew her as a child?" Sands asked, surprised. He assumed she had been 'adopted' by here uncle and the cartel as a teenager, based on what she had told him earlier- it had never occurred to him that that might not have been the case.
"Of course," said Estrella casually. "My parents died when I was five years old, and my uncle cared for me after that. Well, perhaps 'cared for' is the wrong term to use," she amended. "He saw to my needs, and I lived in his house. His daughters were like my sisters from then on. What they did, I did. What they learned, I learned."
"How to be a young lady," Sands supplied with a straight face. "Proper etiquette. How to dress for state functions and formal parties. Ballet lessons."
He could almost see her grin; nearly as wicked as his own. "Oh, yes," she agreed, her tone matching his perfectly in seriousness. "You forgot the bit about hosting formal tea parties."
"How silly of me," said Sands easily. "I expect I also forgot things like espionage, weaponry, martial arts, strategy, foreign languages, and organized crime."
"The skills of a good AFN agent," she said quietly.
"Or a great cartel member," Sands retorted.
"Si," she whispered. "Or that."
Sands could sense her guard beginning to come down. He let his training take over, enjoying the sensation of power he got from it. If this were a CIA interrogation (a specialty of his), he would know he was about to get what he wanted to know from her.
"You worked with the AFN for a short time, didn't you?" he asked, keeping his tone light.
"Si," she said again. "On my uncle's orders. He wanted someone inside their organization, making sure they didn't get to close to catching anyone important from the cartel."
Playing a hunch, he said, "And what about Ajedrez? Did you help her get a position with them?"
"I did. For a time, everything worked perfectly. But then," she paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, and went on, "Something went wrong."
Sands waited.
"I failed to find out about a field agent's investigation of my uncle soon enough. I was forced to go after the man myself, and when I got to my uncle's home, I found the man and five other agents there, arresting him. Him, the head of the whole cartel, like some common drug-runner."
Sands whistled low. "Six AFN agents. You killed them?"
"Si," she said simply.
"What about Ajedrez?" he asked, frowning. "Why didn't she find out about the investigation and help you?"
"By that time she was involved in another, more pressing project," Estrella said evasively.
"Me," said the agent, without a moment's hesitation.
"You," she agreed. "After my failure, my uncle decided I was a liability to him, so he betrayed me to my former colleagues in the AFN. I understand he made quite a lot of money out of the deal. The government was willing to pay handsomely for information leading to the capture of such a dangerous criminal."
"So the AFN came after you," he murmured, thinking hard. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but there were several that didn't seem to fit the picture he was getting.
"For a time," she said casually. "But after a while they lost interest. I simply vanished for a while, 'lying low', as Americans say. My uncle was most disappointed in them, and was forced to look elsewhere for help in getting rid of me. He had neither the manpower nor the inclination to eliminate me himself, so he sought... professional help."
"CIA help?" Sands hazarded.
"Agent Mark Thompson, CIA."
Sands burst out laughing. "That bastard? Jesus, he and I flew down here together on our first assignment! He just wouldn't shut up, ever! I hated that son of a *****!"
She chuckled. "So did I. Somehow I doubt he'll be bothering either of us again, considering what I did to him."
Sands favored her with a blood-thirsty smile. "Oh, do tell."
She did.
The smile on his face became rather forced. He swallowed, feeling slightly nauseous, fighting to control his reaction. "For seven days?" he croaked.
"Until it killed him," she said lightly. "It was closer to eight, actually, now that I think back. He was in pretty good physical shape- at first, anyway."
Sands said nothing. He had hated Thompson, it was true, but what Estrella had done to him made even Sands slightly queasy. Changing the subject, he asked, "Where are we going, anyway?"
She made no comment on the change of topic, replying, "We're going to see a mutual friend- Jorge Ramirez."