Sent: 18 November 2013 13:53
She's still ignoring me –J
Received: 18 November 2013 13:56
And she will, for a long time. Just give it some time, ok? She's pissed off.
Sent: 18 November 2013 14:06
pissed off is such a weird term the way you use it –J
Received: 18 November 2013 14:09
So is most of the crap you Brits say, but you don't hear me complaining :)
Sent: 18 November 2013 14:17
"piss off' –J
"Come on, We're done here."
Angela stood up, standing next to him for half a second before making her way to the door. John took a look to the two men on the other side of the table, then to Angela— he wasn't sure what had happened, but neither party looked pleased.
He pocketed his phone and rushed after her.
"What happened?"
Her heels clicked on the cracked pavement: she ignored him for a long, long moment.
"What, you didn't listen?"
"Well, as it turns out, I'm the only person on the planet who doesn't know how to speak Spanish. Sorry about that."
She scoffed. They turned a corner: corners in Quetzaltenango were tricky, since they didn't often hold what you'd expect them to. One minute they were in a humid outdoor bar, politely declining drinks; now they were stuck in a row of banks, busy with foot traffic.
Angela didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to— as much as he'd wanted her to at least let him in on the plan.
He felt a buzz in his pocket— Two.
Received: 18 November 2013 14:20
There you go again, proving me right. And you know those are two different quotation marks, right?
Received: 18 November 2013 14:21
It took you that long to send me two words and you didn't even get the punctuation right. Cute.
He smiled, but decided to pocket the phone instead of try and hunt-and-peck his way through an answer while trying to keep up with Angela.
"So you're not going to tell me why we're here, what we're doing—"
She wheeled back on him.
"No! Not while we're in the middle of the street, at least, and not when we get to the bank! Probably not even when we get back to the hotel. I'm not going to bother telling you what to do if you're just going to go and do the opposite."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Angela."
They stood in the street for a long moment, people passing around them and through the distance between them: Hands balled into fists, tongues bit back from what each were trying to say. Angela took a long, angry exhale before continuing.
"We've got places to be."
He followed her into one of the banks, where she met one of the tellers with a handshake and quick Spanish as she pulled a large manila envelope out of her bag. Still speaking with him, she took out a large amount of American money and slid it across the table. He became angry; not too visibly, but there was an edge to his expressions that John could translate pretty easily into not good.
She insisted. Leaned across the table to whisper something (obviously) threatening to him, her favourite smile plastered onto his face. He was sure he heard the name Jim.
He deposited the money quickly.
While they dealt business, John pulled out his phone:
Sent: 18 November 14:50
Not cute. It took me so long to find those keys. How are things in Michigan?
Received: 18 November 14:52
Boring. Just business, undercover stuff with Craig. I hate to say it but he's extremely irritating when it's just yourself and him.
Sent: 18 November 14:57
Oh, I know. Remember that long drive to Alabama and back I took with him last year when this whole thing started? Hell. -J
Sent: 18 November 14:59
Say hi to him for me, would you? I've been with Angela for the last few weeks, haven't seen anyone else. -J
Angela shook the banker's hand hand once more on the way out, grinning to herself even as they left the bank.
"Are— are we pretending to be Moriarty's lackeys?"
Angela, high on her performance it seemed, actually answered.
"Now, why would you think that?"
"Well, you scared the shit out of that poor teller just by using his name. Why're we depositing money, anyways?"
"Keeping up appearances. There was supposed to be money dropped into the account today by the same men that we bought from Moriarty this morning. I made sure it happened."
He bit his lip.
"All right, I'm more than confused. Why was that even necessary? We bribed a bunch of lackeys to let us do their job?"
She opened her mouth to explain, but had, by this point, came back down to earth enough to remember that she was angry with him.
"Oh, nevermind. Let's get something to eat."
Neither minded the sun nor the humidity much, as they both tanned well and were used to hotter climates than this, so they chose to eat on the patio of a crowded Taiwanese restaurant, looking out onto the street.
He received the next text while they were looking through the menu:
Received: 18: November 19:22
Will do. Give my regards to Angela, if she ever talks to you again after forcefully enlisting her to another ten years of covert warfare.
"Don't you get, you know, exorbitant fees for even using that damn thing out of country?"
She nodded towards his phone. John shrugged.
"I don't know. It's paid for. Government."
"You mean Big Brother."
"That's what I said, yes."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Of course it bothers me. But I need a phone, and I'm not exactly making money."
A charged silence filled the space between them. It was uncomfortable— it made John's skin itch. He needed there to be more, positive or negative. Anything but an unsolicited silence.
Angela fixed that.
"You're not her type, you know. Mary's. So if that's what you're after—"
John tried very hard to keep himself from slamming his fists onto the flimsy table between them. He took a deep breath instead of yelling. They were in a crowded area, surrounded by unfriendly ears. He spoke in hushed, harsh tones instead:
"She's the only one that isn't furious with me. It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't ignore and vilify you every once and a while, don't you think?"
Her expression soured.
"It was selfish of you. We had orders, explicit orders to—"
"Explicit orders that would have kept him alive. No jail cell in the world could have kept Moriarty in longer than he wanted to be in there, Angela, and you know that. If I hadn't killed him, we would have all been back here in another year or two. Or we'd all be dead."
"And look where that landed us, John. Split up, jumping all over the world trying to burn bridges and tie up loose ends before someone notices what you've done and all hell breaks loose. Hell— you didn't even know if Tony and Jennifer were secure before you shot, did you? You didn't care."
"Of course I knew. There was no one else in the hotel."
"You couldn't know that. You really couldn't."
"Of course I could. They'd vacuumed after they'd evacuated the guests out of there. The carpet in the elevator was thick, it's a rich place: there were still vacuum lines. One set of footprints. Right to the stairs."
She gaped at him.
"You expect me to take your word based on vacuum lines?"
"You don't have to take my word for it. You already knew I was right. There was no one in the hotel. The sniper was in another building. Tony and Jenn weren't near any windows. I'm a soldier, Angela. Moreover, I'm not an idiot. I knew what I was doing, and you're only telling me that I didn't because you're angry that things happened the way they were going to happen anyways."
She cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise was un-argumentative. That, at least, was a welcome change.
"Mary thinks that it's what they expected me to do, why they had just us go in and not all of those reinforcements that came conveniently as soon as it was over."
"Well, that's good for Mary. And where's she? Getting shot at in the Middle East?"
"She's with Craig. They're in Michigan. He went to school there, I guess."
"Craig?"
"No, Moriarty. Presented some paper there. Guess there's some faction of criminal medical researchers at a university up there; they push out faulty reports that... keep some major company afloat, or something. Something inexplicably to do with baked goods."
"Hm."
A silence followed, but this one was different than the last: quieter, without the buzzing. When the server came Angela ordered for the two of them: it was something simple and vegetarian and tasty.
Then—
"Do you text anyone else? On that phone of yours."
John was in the middle of taking a sip of his cola. He raised an eyebrow.
"Like who?"
"Your detective, for one. Sherlock."
He shifted.
"He thinks I'm dead."
"All the more reason to text him, don't you think? 'Not dead, see you in a few years, promise' ?"
John's mind immediately went to Christmas, to the months afterward, to a black car and an empty warehouse.
"No. I don't text him, and I won't. He's not going to find out like that."
"You're afraid, aren't you? Of dying for real, before you can come back."
He shook his head.
"If he knew I was alive, he'd come looking for me. It'd— it'd ruin everything. He's being watched: by Moriarty's men, by Mycroft's. Moriarty's men would follow him, they'd find us here, they'd figure out what's gone wrong. Mycroft doesn't want Sherlock anywhere near international affairs— wants him safe in England. That's why he put me in this position instead of him."
"Sherlock was supposed to fake his death?"
"No, Sherlock was supposed to die. That's what Moriarty wanted— or, would have wanted, had Mycroft not interrogated him the first time... Oh, it's a long story."
She was still listening: it was a nice change, not to be glared at by her. He took it not as an apology, but a sort of resignation.
"It's not like— It's not that I haven't thought of it before. I don't want him thinking I'm dead. But it's too dangerous. It's too dangerous for him to go searching for us, with Moriarty's syndicate this unstable, and it's too dangerous for us to be blowing our cover like that. That would be selfish."
She nodded enthusiastically, yes, yes it would be, and stuffed another oversized bite into her mouth.
"Well, it's good to hear that you're thinking things through now, John. Always good to hear that."
It was half a joke this time— that was good. She smiled at him, bits of food stuck in her teeth: he smiled back. A truce, if nothing more.
It was as good as it was going to get: better than nothing.
Sent: 18 November 22:48
Angela sends her regards. Bueno Noche. -J
Recieved: 18 November 22:53
You goon. Buenas Noches.