Whom can you trust?
Chapter 12
Sam's leg was in a bad way.
As Roberto, Sam and Fi sat around the small kitchen table, they knew something had to be done. With his pants leg ripped opened, Fi had given Sam's leg a quick lookover. It stood to reason that if they did not do something quick, his leg would be totally infected.
And Fi decided for them all.
"...it looks as if we need to cut that bullet from your leg," announced Fi.
Sam looked none too happy, "And by we, you mean..."
"Us," stated Fi evenly, "I will be doing the actual removal. You will supply the screaming."
Sam's eyes got very large, "Tell me you're kidding, Fi."
"I'm kidding, Sam," said Fi, as Sam relaxed, "Now, what I need is a knife, a handkerchief, a towel and boiling water."
Sam's eyes got larger and rounder.
"I hope you need those things for the chicken stew tonight," Sam declared wistfully as Roberto shot Fi a look of concern.
"Have you done this type of thing before, Senorita?" Roberto asked, looking distraught for his friend.
"I've removed splinters and broken glass from skin plenty of times," explained Fi, "and then, there was that one time I removed shards that had been embedded on the left side of my body from a leftover grenade."
Roberto stared at Fi.
"I don't think I want to know the details of any of that," he said.
Fi looked squarely back at him, "No, you don't want to know."
While she waited for the water to boil on the stove, Fi took hold of the knife. Hovering the knife over the burner of the stove to sterilize it, she turned it over and over again, admiring the sharpness of its blade. Roberto prepared Sam by giving him something strong to drink and helping him to get comfortable.
Sam grabbed the sleeve of Roberto's shirt and whispered insistently, "Don't let her do it, buddy! I'm not too young to die, but I still don't want to!"
Roberto gave Sam a comforting look, "She is a friend, an amiga! She has your best interest at heart, no?"
"She may be a friend," Sam whispered in desperation, "but she's the kind of friend that borrows your book and then puts her wet glass on it!"
Roberto strongly clutched Sam's hand, "Amigo...just remember this: a friend may give you comfort, but a real friend will take out a bullet out of your leg."
Sam stared at his lifelong friend, "Who died and made you El Confucius?"
Expressionless, Fi held the knife up as she approached Sam.
A wannabe spy treating an injured comrade knows that she should never bleed for the patient, let the patient do the bleeding, the spy's job is just to get the work done.
Sam, in the meantime, had been laid out on the table in a version of "a pig ready to be slaughtered" according to him. He tried hard not to react, but his terrorized eyes said it all.
"I want my mommy!" Sam exclaimed suddenly.
"Just remember one thing, Sam," Fi said as she lowered the knife his way, "This will hurt you more than me."
"W-what?" Sam looked confused, "Isn't it suppose to be the other way around?"
"Not in this case, Sam."
"No, Fiii..."
... as he opened his mouth, she stuffed a hankerchief in, "Pretend this is my hand and bite down on this..."
Ignoring Sam's muffled protest, Fi began.
Fi worked quickly, knowing that speed was kinder than gentleness.
After rubbing some alcohol on his leg, she cut in and probbed the rotting flesh for the bullet. The knife met a hard resistance, and she gave a sigh of relief that it was not embedded in a muscle. With one swift, cruel turning of the knife, she lifted the pellet to the surface with the knife and heard it drop and bounce on the kitchen floor.
Then she skillfully poured hot water over the infected skin, with Sam yelling out in pain, opening his mouth so large that the rag flew out.
"I HATE YOOOOUUUUU!" Sam was screaming as perspiration burst forth throughout his body.
"I wondered when we might hear from you," Fi stated calmly, ignoring his words.
She then turned to Roberto, "Do you have any honey? I need to rub some on Sam's leg."
"Don't listen to her, buddy," pleaded Sam, as he held out his arm, "she'll rub it all over my leg and then set me outside and let the bees do a number on me!"
"For heaven's sake, Sam, " Fi explained, "the honey is a mild antiseptic. It'll promote new tissue growth. It'll also make your skin look younger, too," she then gave Sam a second look, "Well, one out of two is not too bad."
By then Roberto had gone to the cupboard and handed the jar to Fi. She rubbed some on his leg.
"Oww! Gah! By the way you were cutting me up, I thought you were getting out a watermelon instead of a bullet!" declared Sam as his entire leg glistened with the layer of honey.
"Really?" responded Fi, "because I would think patient Wimpy Axe should be more grateful."
Fi then quickly and expertly wrapped him in fresh bandages.
Sam had quieted down at last. He even managed a weak smile, "Er, thanks, Fi...I guess...this isn't indigestion I am feeling... it's gratitude."
Fi smiled directly at him.
"My pleasure, Sam, " she said, as she thumped him gently on his leg, causing him to yelp, "and I sincerely mean that. "
She took a towel and then was wiping her hands while Roberto began cleaning up the surrounding area. At one point Roberto stopped and watched Fi in awe.
"This so remarkable what you just did," Roberto said to Fi in admiration, "like you had not a care in the world!"
Fi nodded, "I'm just glad I didn't chip a nail."
.
.
(Much later)
The grinding sound of gears of an old van woke Fi in the middle of the night. She sat up in her bed, fully awake. It must be two o'clock in the morning, she thought. Pushing back her covers, she went to the window and peered out.
The moon had emerged from the clouds and cast a silvery light.
Down below she saw Roberto on the compound grounds. Does he ever sleep? She wondered crossly, and then as an afterthought, where was Peppino?
Against the moonlight, Fi could clearly see Roberto exchanging last words with the driver of an unrecognizable van. Instead of Peppino opening the gate, it was Roberto who went over to swing the gate open. The white van u-turned and rattled out of the warehouse compounds.
Climbing back into the comfort of her bed, she drowsily thought, I'll need to ask Roberto about the van later this morning and then I'll ask Sam if he heard the van too. But not now, she was tired, as she headed back to the bed. She slipped the covers back on and was soon fast asleep.
.
.
It was eight a.m. when she was fully awake. She again wondered about the van, as she got ready to go to the kitchen area.
When she entered the kitchen, she found a lively Roberto established on the cheap plastic table, drinking coffee with Peppino. They both looked as if they had a good night's sleep.
Maybe I dreamt last night, Fi thought, otherwise, how else could Roberto look so refreshed?
Roberto turned when he noted Fi's presence, "Ah, Senorita, truly you are a vision of loveliness!" He reached over and poured a cup of coffee for Fi, "Come! Come have some morning coffee while Peppino brings your breakfast to you!"
Peppino had gotten up and soon returned with a bowl of oatmeal, and some fruits. Fi sat across from Roberto as Peppino then went to get some silverware.
"So tell me, Senorita Fi," stated Roberto, "I hope you slept well?"
At first Fi was going to play cautious with what she had witnessed last night, but then she figured, why?
"Actually," Fi got to the point, "I was awakened last night by the sound of van, and I saw you, Roberto," she then softened it up a bit by adding, "I hope there was no emergency?"
Roberto looked stunned.
"Why, what do you mean, Senorita?" Roberto was all wide-eyed innocence, "Like you, I went straight to bed and I was fast asleep the minute my head hit the pillow! Peppi, did you hear a van?"
"I never hear nothing," said Peppino in a monotone voice, "Every night I sleep like a baby."
Taken aback by their responses, Fi peered closely at Roberto—at his older brown face, now sun-weathered and clean-shaven. He had soft intelligent eyes set off by a head of thick salt and pepper hair.
Meeting her scrutinized gaze , he smiled in a friendly manner, "Ahhh a van you say? If only it were so, Senorita! It would have been truly be a blessing for us...we could use it for so many purposes here!"
Fi scowled as Peppino got up to get the coffeepot.
"More coffee, Senorita Fiona?" Peppino asked, automatically pouring Fi without waiting if she wanted some. It was almost as if he needed to be doing something in order to avoid being nervous.
Fi smiled back, but her thoughts were less forgiving. They're lying, she thought, and unfortunately for them, they are lying to the wrong person,for now her interest was piqued.
Sam entered just then, "Hey, how about setting another place for me, Peppi?" he asked as he hobbled to the table, "I'm starved!"
"Ah, Sammy, mi amigo!" smiled Roberto, "How are you feeling this lovely morning?"
"Great, for someone who had been shot in the leg and then crudely cut opened, " Sam stated as he sat at the table as breakfast was also brought to him, "Actually, earlier this morning, Peppi had brought me some salve to put on my leg. Smelled like a dead carcass, but it worked miracles! The pain has definitely ebbed."
"Oh, that explains the smell," deadpanned Fi, "I thought that was your cologne again."
Roberto laughed heartily, "I think a bigger miracle is how you two have been able to work alongside one another all this time!"
"Michael is our miracle," explained Sam, "if it weren't for him, we'd kill each other!"
"Ah, yes, Michael Westen!" Roberto nodded, "You have introduced us before, eh? Fine, fine agent! Very dedicated! I was stunned to hear about his burn notice! A mistake, I have no doubt!"
Fi didn't want to think about Michael now. She was starting to feel guilty that she had not made contact with him, but what was she suppose to say? Hello, Michael, I just screwed up my first CIA mission, and how are you?
It made her more determined to find that book.
"Sam," announced Fi, "we have to go back to The Butcher's Estate today!"
"Ah, geez, Fi!" Sam stated, "I so wanted to stay here today to read my magazine!…It has the latest escapades of the Kardashians!"
"Who?" Fi asked.
Roberto's laugh seemed too forced, "Oh, senoritia! You always make me smile!"
"Yeah, I know that feeling" said Sam, taking a bite of his breakfast, "she makes me smile so wide I can now eat a banana sideways!"
.
.
At half past one Sam and Fi were ready to leave for the estate when Peppino stopped in the doorway.
"Excuse me, Senor, Senorita," Peppino declared, "…I see something I must tell you…"
Fi was alarmed, "What is it, Peppino?" she asked.
"Outside," Peppino said, "Our security cameras locate black car parked on street…suspicious because no move...just sits there. All morning."
"Did you say the vehicle was black?" asked Fi.
"Si," stated Peppino, "with dark windows. No see inside."
Sam and Fi exchanged looks.
"You think it's the same car that trailed us two nights earlier?" Sam asked Fi.
She smiled, "One can only hope!"
"You do realize, Fi," noted Sam, "that this isn't a game...these are bad people trying to get us?"
"And I am a spy," said Fi, "trying to get closer to them so that I can complete my mission!"
"That's trainee spy," reminded Sam.
"Trainee spy, virtuoso," stated a confident Fi, "I'm thinking of making business cards with that title!"
"Business cards?" countered Sam, "CIA spies do NOT have printed busi…oh, never mind."
"Come on," Fi said, "Let's go find out if the it's Butcher-mobile!"
Sam pointed to his leg, "But my leg, it's just been..." but Fi had already walked away from him.
"Hurry up, Sam!"
"Ah crap! I'll never get any empathy from you!" he looked resignedly at Fi as he limped after her, "I'm comin'!"
.
.
Peppino was at the gate and opened it for them as Fi drove her rented Audi outside the compounds.
She thought to tell Sam about what she had witnessed earlier that morning regarding a suspicious Roberto, but decided against it for now. There were other things they needed to deal with.
Like making sure a ruthless assassin follows them.
Fi took a turn to go onto the main highway. The black car was still there. After Fi passed it, she noted in her rearview mirror how it started up and swung in behind them, trailing them at a discreet distance.
"Good news, Sam," said Fi, "it's the same vehicle after all."
"Good news? Really, Fi? Really?" asked Sam, "A killer is after us and you're happy about it?"
"Not just any killer," corrected Fi, "but The Butcher...and he is someone who will help bring me one step closer to being the top CIA agent!"
Sam took a quick glance back before facing forward again, "Well, I don't know if that's him or not, but what's the strategy here…you gonna try and lose him?"
"Actually," considered Fi, "I don't see why we should lose him."
"Uh-oh," said Sam, "Sounds like you've got a plan, and I have a feeling it's a crazy, senseless one, I'm sure!"
"Now you're just trying to lift my spirits even more!" Fi smiled.
"Fi," warned Sam, as he grabbed on to his seat, "Please don't tell me that you plan another high speed chase. I don't think my body can take another one. And I heard there's only one allowed per mission."
"For once, you're making sense Sam," agreed Fi, "but, no, I don't want to go through another high speed chase. I wouldn't want the reputation as being a top-notch but repetitive spy."
"Soooo, " asked Sam, not quite sure if he wanted to hear the answer," What do you plan to do?"
The loud engine noise almost drowned out Fi's answer, but Sam was clearly able to make out what she said. Unfortunately.
"The answer is quite simple," Fi theorized, ""I think we need to take the advantage. We will stop where there are lots of people. We'll mingle in a crowd. With all that confusion and the two of us, he'll be outnumbered."
Sam almost choked.
"We are going to take the chance of mingling in a crowd, hoping he doesn't see us before we see him? The guy is a top assassin...he'll KNOW how to hide himself in a crowd."
"Oh, Sam, Sam…will you stop being so apprehensive?" Fi responded, "You forget that I know my way around a crowd, too! He'll think I'm trying to hide from him, not realizing that I will be the one hunting him!"
"Uh, oh-kay….Is there any way I can stay in the car while you do that?" Sam peered over at Fi and noticed the steely look in her eyes.
Fi shrugged, "You can, but he knows our car, so chances are he could just walk right up and shoot you where you sit. And no way am I going to rub honey all over your bloodied chest. We'd need a barrel of the stuff."
"Crapola!" Sam said, knowing he didn't have any choice, "Okay! I'll go out too! I guess I can use the exercise!"
"That's true," Fi agreed, "because lately the only exercise you have been getting is pushing your luck!"
Sam stared at Fi, "Just don't jerk the vehicle too hard when you pull the car over, alright?"
.
.
Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. I truly, truly appreciate them!
Please review.