'I thought I had her figured,' Sands mused as the car rolled up the
long, winding road to the Oro del Sol resort. 'I thought she would be
willing to abandon her immediate plan to save her friend. This callous
attitude, though... it's very...'
'Mercenary?' another small voice suggested, sounding distinctly amused.
Sands almost smiled. 'Touché. She did strike me as rather El Mariachi-ish, all heroic, noble, and self-sacrificing, though.'
The small voice snorted. 'What, pray, gave you THAT impression?'
Sands paused to consider. 'Well,' he thought slowly, 'She did save my life... Ok, so it was for money... She saved that chicle boy's life... to keep him from blowing her cover... damn. Not much there, is there?'
'Nope,' the voice agreed shortly. 'I'd say you've been a bit of a ****ing idiot of late, but,' it paused, giving weight to the irony, 'That's just me talking.'
Now Sands did smile a little. 'What can I say?'
He was leaning back casually, his legs stretched out before him. He could feel the bright sunlight outside filtering through the glass of the windshield, soaking into his black clothing. Sands rather liked that image, actually. He liked the thought of the sunlight, so bright, so beautiful, called inexorably into darkness. Some things were almost better felt than seen.
"Something funny?" Estrella asked from beside him in the driver's seat.
His slight smile faded. "Not really," he replied easily. Let her wonder; he wasn't about to tell her what he was thinking.
"We are nearly there," she observed unnecessarily.
"Worried?" Sands inquired.
"Not me," she said mildly. "I just hope they have my money ready. Yourself?" Her tone was very dry.
"Not me," he retorted, throwing her words back at her. He paused for a moment, considering. If he'd misjudged her... "Why should I worry?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm being sold to a cartel, and I don't even know why."
"I like the theory you mentioned earlier," Estrella replied, the barest hint of mischief in her voice.
"Oh?"
"That they had heard of your extreme good looks and wanted to meet you."
"Not that that reason is enough to make you stick around after you've got your money," Sands said pointedly, ignoring her joke.
Estrella said nothing.
**********
They were escorted into the main resort building by half a dozen heavily armed men and left in the lobby to wait. Sands could hear the splashing of a fountain on polished stone, and the song of birds outside. The room must have been huge, because at the smallest sound, not one, but two echoes could be heard.
Standing next to him, leaning against a cool marble wall, Estrella was silent. Sands couldn't even hear her breathe, not two feet away from him. The silence unnerved him, but he held his peace.
At last they were led through another set of doors into a much smaller room. Sands listened hard, and picked out the sounds of at least two, possibly three people, one in front of him some five feet away and seated, and one or two along the right-hand wall; he wasn't sure.
"Bienvenidos al Oro del Sol," said a smooth, cultured voice. "Why don't you both sit down?"
**************
"Estrella my dear," said Miguel Guerro warmly. "You are more beautiful every time I see you; truly lovely."
"Gracias, Miguel," replied Estrella courteously, but there was a chilly note to her voice.
"Ah, but of course," said Guerro smoothly. "You just want your money."
"You have Sands," Estrella said shortly. "Pay what you owe for him, and I will be leaving."
"You are sure he is-" Guerro began, but he cut off at the sound of a small object, perhaps the size of a cellular phone, being set down on the desk. "You are sure."
"Yes. This is the man you were looking for."
A pause, and then- "Very well," Guerro murmured. Sands heard the distinctive thump of a very full briefcase on a wooden surface.
"Five million?" Estrella asked, making no move to open the briefcase and check for herself.
"Five million American dollars," Guerro confirmed.
"Gracias," she said again, and turned and walked out.
'Sold, to the highest bidder,' Sands thought sardonically, echoing his words to her.
"So you are Agent Sands of the CIA," said Guerro coolly.
Sands refused to dignify this with a response, and simply waited for the man to continue. He let the silence hang for another minute, then said with a touch of impatience, "Just what is it that you wanted me for?"
"To talk," said Guerro calmly. "Only to talk."
"About what?"
"Would you care for anything to drink?" Guerro asked, playing the ever-polite host.
'One would almost be tempted to believe,' Sands thought contemptuously, 'That this bastard hadn't just bought me like a slave.'
'Not like you objected particularly,' the small voice of opposition in his mind chipped in. 'Do you have a death wish, Sands?'
'Shut up.'
Aloud, he said, "Thank you, no. To talk about what?"
He could almost feel the other man's smile. "Very focused, aren't you. You know what you want, and you'll get it, by whatever means necessary, and," he paused delicately before continuing, "To hell with proper protocol. Am I right?"
"Perhaps," said Sands in a bored tone. "But for all your clever observations, you still haven't told me what I want to know. To talk about what?" Another smile, he could tell, but this one a bit more forced than the last. Sands had a powerful gift for pissing people off, and he enjoyed the chance to use it to the utmost. It was something of a game for him. And of course, and off-balance opponent was a small added benefit.
***************
Listening at keyholes, Estrella decided, was not a particularly dignified activity. Educational, perhaps, but not dignified.
Though to be strictly fair, she wasn't actually at the keyhole. No, she was some four or five feet behind Guerro's chair, and about three feet down.
Outside.
In the bushes.
Under different circumstances, the situation might have struck her as extremely funny.
She had been walking around the perimeter of the building back to her car when she had passed two first-story windows, both of which were open. She might have simply kept walking if she hadn't heard Sands' voice as clearly as if he stood in front of her. Estrella had quickly realized that the two windows were the same as the ones on either side of Guerro's desk.
A moment of careful calculations, a surreptitious glance around for any human observers, and one mad scramble had found her slightly to the right of the right-hand window and, more importantly, out of the view of the security camera mounted halfway up the wall. Easing into a slightly more comfortable position with her back against the building's wall, she continued to listen.
**********
"I have a business proposition for you," Guerro told Sands.
"Really," said Sands neutrally.
"I have, shall we say," Guerro seemed to search for just the right phrase, "A small military project in the works, an operation of sorts, which should be coming to completion very soon."
"A military project?" Sands asked, beginning to get interested in spite of himself.
"As I said, a small one only," Guerro assured him. "There is a certain property I wish to acquire, and I have assembled a force to secure it for me, but there are a few small, almost trivial bits of information I require in order to ensure my operation's complete success."
"I'm listening," said Sands calmly.
"Information that I believe might be found in the CIA's database," Guerro told him flatly.
"You want access codes."
"Indeed," Guerro acknowledged.
"Now, that's very nice," said Sands, "The question is, why should I give them to you?"
"What if I told you," Guerro inquired almost absently, "That I would use the information for my military operation to destroy the headquarters of the Barillo cartel?"
"You want to destroy the Barillos?" Sands asked incredulously, his surprise momentarily getting the better of him.
"They have been encroaching on our business for too long," Guerro told him quietly. "But for them I would control all of the business in this region, but they insist on testing my strength. This must stop. Also," Guerro confided, giving the vocal equivalent of an intent stare, "I need someone to lead my attack force. Someone with experience and training, and someone clever enough to be able to achieve my goals for the attack."
Sands was not impressed. "So go hire a mercenary force. I understand decent leadership is generally included in the package."
"No," Guerro said sharply. "My own people will fight for me and," his tone brooked no argument, "I want you lead them for me."
"And the codes?"
Guerro shrugged. "I would pay well for them, and they will make both our jobs easier. So will you do it?"
Sands considered for a moment, then said, "Well, I'll be needing more details later, of course, but sure, it sounds like fun. Why not?"
**********
"Why not?"
Those were the last words Estrella heard as she sprang to her feet, grabbed the briefcase lying in the dirt next to her, and sprang to her feet. She jogged back around the building to the front doors and marched into the lobby without waiting for an invitation.
Her booted feet made sounds loud as gunshots on the marble floor as she strode over to the door of Guerro's office and pushed it open.
Guerro glanced up as she entered, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "Estrella? What-"
"I want to help you," she announced. "I've wanted to take down the Barillo operation for years, ever since Marisa sent her killers out after me. I'm not going to miss the chance to help bring them down."
To her surprise, Guerro didn't look remotely surprised at her request. In fact, he was smiling like a father would at a clever daughter. "I thought you might, particularly since," he fixed her with a penetrating gaze, "They recently captured a good friend of yours, one 'El'."
'Mercenary?' another small voice suggested, sounding distinctly amused.
Sands almost smiled. 'Touché. She did strike me as rather El Mariachi-ish, all heroic, noble, and self-sacrificing, though.'
The small voice snorted. 'What, pray, gave you THAT impression?'
Sands paused to consider. 'Well,' he thought slowly, 'She did save my life... Ok, so it was for money... She saved that chicle boy's life... to keep him from blowing her cover... damn. Not much there, is there?'
'Nope,' the voice agreed shortly. 'I'd say you've been a bit of a ****ing idiot of late, but,' it paused, giving weight to the irony, 'That's just me talking.'
Now Sands did smile a little. 'What can I say?'
He was leaning back casually, his legs stretched out before him. He could feel the bright sunlight outside filtering through the glass of the windshield, soaking into his black clothing. Sands rather liked that image, actually. He liked the thought of the sunlight, so bright, so beautiful, called inexorably into darkness. Some things were almost better felt than seen.
"Something funny?" Estrella asked from beside him in the driver's seat.
His slight smile faded. "Not really," he replied easily. Let her wonder; he wasn't about to tell her what he was thinking.
"We are nearly there," she observed unnecessarily.
"Worried?" Sands inquired.
"Not me," she said mildly. "I just hope they have my money ready. Yourself?" Her tone was very dry.
"Not me," he retorted, throwing her words back at her. He paused for a moment, considering. If he'd misjudged her... "Why should I worry?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm being sold to a cartel, and I don't even know why."
"I like the theory you mentioned earlier," Estrella replied, the barest hint of mischief in her voice.
"Oh?"
"That they had heard of your extreme good looks and wanted to meet you."
"Not that that reason is enough to make you stick around after you've got your money," Sands said pointedly, ignoring her joke.
Estrella said nothing.
**********
They were escorted into the main resort building by half a dozen heavily armed men and left in the lobby to wait. Sands could hear the splashing of a fountain on polished stone, and the song of birds outside. The room must have been huge, because at the smallest sound, not one, but two echoes could be heard.
Standing next to him, leaning against a cool marble wall, Estrella was silent. Sands couldn't even hear her breathe, not two feet away from him. The silence unnerved him, but he held his peace.
At last they were led through another set of doors into a much smaller room. Sands listened hard, and picked out the sounds of at least two, possibly three people, one in front of him some five feet away and seated, and one or two along the right-hand wall; he wasn't sure.
"Bienvenidos al Oro del Sol," said a smooth, cultured voice. "Why don't you both sit down?"
**************
"Estrella my dear," said Miguel Guerro warmly. "You are more beautiful every time I see you; truly lovely."
"Gracias, Miguel," replied Estrella courteously, but there was a chilly note to her voice.
"Ah, but of course," said Guerro smoothly. "You just want your money."
"You have Sands," Estrella said shortly. "Pay what you owe for him, and I will be leaving."
"You are sure he is-" Guerro began, but he cut off at the sound of a small object, perhaps the size of a cellular phone, being set down on the desk. "You are sure."
"Yes. This is the man you were looking for."
A pause, and then- "Very well," Guerro murmured. Sands heard the distinctive thump of a very full briefcase on a wooden surface.
"Five million?" Estrella asked, making no move to open the briefcase and check for herself.
"Five million American dollars," Guerro confirmed.
"Gracias," she said again, and turned and walked out.
'Sold, to the highest bidder,' Sands thought sardonically, echoing his words to her.
"So you are Agent Sands of the CIA," said Guerro coolly.
Sands refused to dignify this with a response, and simply waited for the man to continue. He let the silence hang for another minute, then said with a touch of impatience, "Just what is it that you wanted me for?"
"To talk," said Guerro calmly. "Only to talk."
"About what?"
"Would you care for anything to drink?" Guerro asked, playing the ever-polite host.
'One would almost be tempted to believe,' Sands thought contemptuously, 'That this bastard hadn't just bought me like a slave.'
'Not like you objected particularly,' the small voice of opposition in his mind chipped in. 'Do you have a death wish, Sands?'
'Shut up.'
Aloud, he said, "Thank you, no. To talk about what?"
He could almost feel the other man's smile. "Very focused, aren't you. You know what you want, and you'll get it, by whatever means necessary, and," he paused delicately before continuing, "To hell with proper protocol. Am I right?"
"Perhaps," said Sands in a bored tone. "But for all your clever observations, you still haven't told me what I want to know. To talk about what?" Another smile, he could tell, but this one a bit more forced than the last. Sands had a powerful gift for pissing people off, and he enjoyed the chance to use it to the utmost. It was something of a game for him. And of course, and off-balance opponent was a small added benefit.
***************
Listening at keyholes, Estrella decided, was not a particularly dignified activity. Educational, perhaps, but not dignified.
Though to be strictly fair, she wasn't actually at the keyhole. No, she was some four or five feet behind Guerro's chair, and about three feet down.
Outside.
In the bushes.
Under different circumstances, the situation might have struck her as extremely funny.
She had been walking around the perimeter of the building back to her car when she had passed two first-story windows, both of which were open. She might have simply kept walking if she hadn't heard Sands' voice as clearly as if he stood in front of her. Estrella had quickly realized that the two windows were the same as the ones on either side of Guerro's desk.
A moment of careful calculations, a surreptitious glance around for any human observers, and one mad scramble had found her slightly to the right of the right-hand window and, more importantly, out of the view of the security camera mounted halfway up the wall. Easing into a slightly more comfortable position with her back against the building's wall, she continued to listen.
**********
"I have a business proposition for you," Guerro told Sands.
"Really," said Sands neutrally.
"I have, shall we say," Guerro seemed to search for just the right phrase, "A small military project in the works, an operation of sorts, which should be coming to completion very soon."
"A military project?" Sands asked, beginning to get interested in spite of himself.
"As I said, a small one only," Guerro assured him. "There is a certain property I wish to acquire, and I have assembled a force to secure it for me, but there are a few small, almost trivial bits of information I require in order to ensure my operation's complete success."
"I'm listening," said Sands calmly.
"Information that I believe might be found in the CIA's database," Guerro told him flatly.
"You want access codes."
"Indeed," Guerro acknowledged.
"Now, that's very nice," said Sands, "The question is, why should I give them to you?"
"What if I told you," Guerro inquired almost absently, "That I would use the information for my military operation to destroy the headquarters of the Barillo cartel?"
"You want to destroy the Barillos?" Sands asked incredulously, his surprise momentarily getting the better of him.
"They have been encroaching on our business for too long," Guerro told him quietly. "But for them I would control all of the business in this region, but they insist on testing my strength. This must stop. Also," Guerro confided, giving the vocal equivalent of an intent stare, "I need someone to lead my attack force. Someone with experience and training, and someone clever enough to be able to achieve my goals for the attack."
Sands was not impressed. "So go hire a mercenary force. I understand decent leadership is generally included in the package."
"No," Guerro said sharply. "My own people will fight for me and," his tone brooked no argument, "I want you lead them for me."
"And the codes?"
Guerro shrugged. "I would pay well for them, and they will make both our jobs easier. So will you do it?"
Sands considered for a moment, then said, "Well, I'll be needing more details later, of course, but sure, it sounds like fun. Why not?"
**********
"Why not?"
Those were the last words Estrella heard as she sprang to her feet, grabbed the briefcase lying in the dirt next to her, and sprang to her feet. She jogged back around the building to the front doors and marched into the lobby without waiting for an invitation.
Her booted feet made sounds loud as gunshots on the marble floor as she strode over to the door of Guerro's office and pushed it open.
Guerro glanced up as she entered, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "Estrella? What-"
"I want to help you," she announced. "I've wanted to take down the Barillo operation for years, ever since Marisa sent her killers out after me. I'm not going to miss the chance to help bring them down."
To her surprise, Guerro didn't look remotely surprised at her request. In fact, he was smiling like a father would at a clever daughter. "I thought you might, particularly since," he fixed her with a penetrating gaze, "They recently captured a good friend of yours, one 'El'."