Seven days after Sands had shown Nat his eye wounds, they sat in The Flying Cow, eating lunch. Nat had been silent for quite a while and Sands sensed this. He laid his hand over hers and asked her what was wrong. She sighed.
"Sands, have you ever thought about quitting?"
"Quitting?"
"Yeah, like…do you ever feel like you'd just rather have a normal job?" He shook his head firmly.
"Even if I wanted a normal job, a normal job wouldn't get on with me. I'd die being stuck behind a desk or something all day. Why are you asking?"
She hesitated. "Because I can't say that anymore." Sands waited for her to go on. "I don't know…I've been having a good time here, you know. Acting as a married couple makes me think. Maybe I can really be like that some day. Have a proper family. But how could you have that if you were an agent? How could your family live every day, constantly worrying that you might be shot dead at any moment? Sometimes I just think it would be nice to make plans for the weekend and not have to change them because some guy's decided to go and kill someone. I got into the CIA because I knew it would be different to everything else. Unpredictable and spontaneous. But sometimes I just think it would be good to know what's ahead." Nat's voice was small. Sands could tell she was staring at the table but her hand hadn't moved from under his. He wasn't sure what to say.
"One day," he began. "One day you could have all that. You've been in this business for years now. You've only ever been shot twice. You're one of the best. A family of yours wouldn't have to worry about that." She didn't answer. "Life isn't always black and white. You can have it both ways if you want it. If you want it, you can make it happen. You can make anything happen."
Nat couldn't help but feel reassured by his words. How did he always manage to do that? She nodded and looked down at her food. "I'm sorry for blabbing on. I know it can't be that much of an enjoyable topic for you. But thanks anyway."
He shrugged. "Forget it. My pleasure." Nat smiled and amazingly, he seemed to know and smiled back. They finished their lunch in happy conversations and went back to sight-seeing.
"That's the Presidente's place," Sands pointed up at the huge building, standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "And this is where I shot the bitch." He pointed at the ground where he had killed Ajedrez and Nat knew instantly who he was talking about.
What happened next happened so fast, neither of them had time to move quick enough. A loud bang erupted throughout the square, followed by screaming and running footsteps. Nat heard Sands swear as he pushed her to the ground, crouching in front of her, cocking his gun. "You see anyone?" he asked. She strained to look around from her position under Sands. She just caught sight of a small man in black leather disappear behind the Presidente's palace and then another bigger man in hot pursuit.
She nodded, knowing he would feel the motion as his hand was on her shoulder. "But he's gone. It was a small man in black leather, then another man, bigger, he was running after him. They ran off behind the building. Oh god, Shel, you're hurt." She sat up, pushing him back gently, touching his shoulder just below where the bullet had pierced. Blood was already seeping through his dark blue jacket. "Oh god…" she murmured. He pulled away slightly and stood up, pulling her with his good arm. He held his wounded arm gently and gestured with his gun.
"Shit it hurts. Could you put this back in my jacket?" Nat nodded in reply and took his gun, uncocking it and slipping it under his jacket.
"We'd better get out of here quick," she said. Sands winced slightly and she led him back to the hotel. Ignoring the anxious looks from people they passed, Nat pulled him along up to the room they were staying in and he collapsed on the bed, in pain. There was blood everywhere and he was hurting. She soaked a sheet in warm water and antiseptic and removed his bloody jacket and shirt. He groaned as he felt the cloth pull at his wound. Nat began to dab gently around the bullet hole, cleaning off the blood before holding it firmly over the wound. He winced and gritted his teeth but didn't fight back. He'd been through plenty of pain in his life. He could handle this.
When Nat was certain the bleeding had stopped, she inspected the wound, noting with relief that the bullet had missed any bone or major blood vessels. She sterilised some tweezers from a medical box she always kept under the bed and began the painful task of removing the bullet. His hands gripped the bed sheets under him and he groaned loudly.
Once he was free, she wrapped his shoulder in a bandage and the pain subsided slightly. He stayed lying down on the bed, breathing heavily.
"Do you want me to get you something for the pain?" she asked. He shook his head. He was obviously tired so she cleared up his blood stained clothes and equipment and headed to the couch. Everything had happened in a flash. They had been trained to act on impulses and not to stop and think about the situation. Stopping to think could mean the end of your life. However, everything was bound to catch up. And, as it usually did, it left Nat exhausted, so she curled up on the couch and closed her eyes.
That's when the phone rang. Loud and harsh. Nat swore. This obviously wasn't their day.
"What?" she snapped, picking up the receiver.
"Nat?" It was Trent. "I heard what happened. Is Sands alright?"
"As good as can be expected. He's all bandaged up and he's asleep at the moment. Who the fuck was it, Trent?"
"I had Simon Clarke watching your back. He saw what happened and contacted me. He knew who the shooter was, but he got away."
"So…" Nat said impatiently. She wasn't in the mood for this. "Who was it?"
"Tom White. He owns the Black Boar in the centre of Mexico. We have reason to believe he's something to do with the remaining cartel."
"Of course he's with the cartel, Trent, where have you been? But let's cut the crap. What do you want us to do?"
"Meet up with Clarke in the Flying Cow tomorrow at twelve thirty. You guys need to talk. You can trust Clarke. He's a good man. He knows what he's doing."
"Right, well, if there's nothing else, I'll be off, yeah? Thanks for your help. I'll tell Sands you rang. Give my love to Sam. See ya."
"Over and out."