Read Online The Geronimo Breach by Russell Blake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Russell Blake
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full flow – unsurprising given that it was Saturday night. The diverse crowd comprised a mix of locals and visitors. One group in particular drew his attention – three obviously Colombian men hanging out in the lounge area with narcotraficantes written all over them. That also wasn’t surprising because the drug traffickers packed the kind of money that made a night at Carmen’s about as financially significant as a trip to a fast food restaurant for a Happy Meal.
At nine forty-five, Carmen came downstairs and escorted Ernesto up to her third floor office. She explained that the trip across the border that night was a go, and that it was time to settle the tab before they went any further. Ernesto fished out a wad of cash from his backpack and carefully counted out forty-five hundred dollars. Carmen, satisfied after confirming the count, excused herself for a few moments and slipped into the attached sitting room.
Ernesto stuffed the remainder of the money into the hygiene kit at the bottom of his backpack, scuffing his knuckles on the video camera in the process. He extracted the cursed device, having largely forgotten about it other than as the source of his current misery. Although he’d never used one before, he figured it couldn’t be too difficult to operate. He punched at the buttons and fiddled with the controls until the unit beeped. A small screen popped out of the right side and flickered to life. Ernesto vaguely hoped it would be a sex tape, but with the way his luck was running it was more likely footage of the villa owner’s colonoscopy.
Carmen closed the concrete-encased floor safe, securing the handle and spinning the dial. She sealed Al’s payment in a plain white envelope, and kissed it, leaving a scarlet lipstick print on the white paper.
She inspected herself in the full-length mirror attached to the door that connected her office, and nodded, satisfied with her choice of outfits. She leaned a few inches from the glass surface and patted at her carefully applied makeup with a tissue, then brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. There were many more hours to go this evening and she prided herself on being a consummate mistress of ceremonies. It wouldn’t do to appear fatigued – her clientele expected a departure from dull reality when they passed through her doors and she was one of the top representatives of the dream. Even though she wasn’t on the menu, she still needed to look like a tempting dessert. After all, this was show biz, and you always wanted to look your best for the audience.
Carmen heard a muffled knock on the door of the other room, and glanced at her diamond-encrusted Piaget. Ten p.m. on the dot. At least Al was on his game tonight – regardless of her constant doubts about him he’d always been reliable. At least so far. He had his problems, but then again so did everyone. She had a soft spot for the poor sot, so as long as he could keep it together she’d throw him a bone now and then. It was convenient to have one’s own State Department official to run errands, and he was cheap, so the relationship worked for them both.
“Coming, Amor . Let yourself in. Don’t be shy, I won’t bite,” she teased as she entered her office.
Al closed the office door behind him and gave Carmen a courtesy hug and peck on the cheek. He plopped down in the chair next to Ernesto and put his satchel on Carmen’s desk, then swiveled and extended his hand to the cook.
“ Hola, amigo . I’m Alberto, and I’ll be your pilot on this short flight,” he proclaimed in Gringo-accented, but understandable Spanish. A lingering odor of alcohol hung in the air; the residue of Al’s fortification at home before the long night ahead.
“ Con mucho gusto ,” Ernesto replied, barely acknowledging him – he was white as a sheet and sweating in spite of the powerful air conditioning. Fumbling to zip his tightly-clutched bag, he grabbed Al’s outstretched hand.
Al gave Carmen a
At nine forty-five, Carmen came downstairs and escorted Ernesto up to her third floor office. She explained that the trip across the border that night was a go, and that it was time to settle the tab before they went any further. Ernesto fished out a wad of cash from his backpack and carefully counted out forty-five hundred dollars. Carmen, satisfied after confirming the count, excused herself for a few moments and slipped into the attached sitting room.
Ernesto stuffed the remainder of the money into the hygiene kit at the bottom of his backpack, scuffing his knuckles on the video camera in the process. He extracted the cursed device, having largely forgotten about it other than as the source of his current misery. Although he’d never used one before, he figured it couldn’t be too difficult to operate. He punched at the buttons and fiddled with the controls until the unit beeped. A small screen popped out of the right side and flickered to life. Ernesto vaguely hoped it would be a sex tape, but with the way his luck was running it was more likely footage of the villa owner’s colonoscopy.
Carmen closed the concrete-encased floor safe, securing the handle and spinning the dial. She sealed Al’s payment in a plain white envelope, and kissed it, leaving a scarlet lipstick print on the white paper.
She inspected herself in the full-length mirror attached to the door that connected her office, and nodded, satisfied with her choice of outfits. She leaned a few inches from the glass surface and patted at her carefully applied makeup with a tissue, then brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. There were many more hours to go this evening and she prided herself on being a consummate mistress of ceremonies. It wouldn’t do to appear fatigued – her clientele expected a departure from dull reality when they passed through her doors and she was one of the top representatives of the dream. Even though she wasn’t on the menu, she still needed to look like a tempting dessert. After all, this was show biz, and you always wanted to look your best for the audience.
Carmen heard a muffled knock on the door of the other room, and glanced at her diamond-encrusted Piaget. Ten p.m. on the dot. At least Al was on his game tonight – regardless of her constant doubts about him he’d always been reliable. At least so far. He had his problems, but then again so did everyone. She had a soft spot for the poor sot, so as long as he could keep it together she’d throw him a bone now and then. It was convenient to have one’s own State Department official to run errands, and he was cheap, so the relationship worked for them both.
“Coming, Amor . Let yourself in. Don’t be shy, I won’t bite,” she teased as she entered her office.
Al closed the office door behind him and gave Carmen a courtesy hug and peck on the cheek. He plopped down in the chair next to Ernesto and put his satchel on Carmen’s desk, then swiveled and extended his hand to the cook.
“ Hola, amigo . I’m Alberto, and I’ll be your pilot on this short flight,” he proclaimed in Gringo-accented, but understandable Spanish. A lingering odor of alcohol hung in the air; the residue of Al’s fortification at home before the long night ahead.
“ Con mucho gusto ,” Ernesto replied, barely acknowledging him – he was white as a sheet and sweating in spite of the powerful air conditioning. Fumbling to zip his tightly-clutched bag, he grabbed Al’s outstretched hand.
Al gave Carmen a
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