The Prisoner's Dilemma

Chapter 4

January 2004

El Tigerito, Peru

Andes Highlands

Irina stayed with Jack until he fell asleep. Her gaze scanned the instruments one more time, though she had only a passing familiarity with what they said. Jack's slow, steady respiration reassured her more than any machine could. He had been lucky. Damn lucky. Irina shied away from the thought, refusing to examine her relief. Instead, she closed the door softly behind her and walked back down the hall toward the kitchen, considering their options. They couldn't stay here forever. Doing so could cause undue attention to Carmelita. Irina liked the old woman. Despite a shaky start, she was beginning to see just how capable and caring the doctor was. It's a rare thing, she thought, to see such devotion in another human being.

The aroma of fresh coffee wafted down the hall, and Irina found Carmelita in her kitchen, watching the drink brew. The elderly doctor eyed her over her thick glasses. "You have spoken to him? That is good. Come and sit; we can have coffee."

Irina eyed the pot with interest and took a seat at the little wooden dining table. "That smells wonderful, Carmelita. And yes, I have spoken to him. He's improving, if his attitude is any indication." 

"He will be well. Slow these next few days, perhaps lightheaded. You may stay as long as you wish; my home is yours."

Irina inclined her head. "Thank you, Señora." She rose to help Carmelita with the coffee. "There aren't many people who would have done what you have - debt or no debt. Aren't you concerned about the possible repercussions?"

"I am old." Carmelita shrugged. "I have nothing to fear. And I owe Juan the lives of my child, and now my grandchildren. He is a good man, but no one looks out for him. He is..." She smiled. "Adopted, you may say."

Irina chuckled and said,. "And I'm sure he could not wish for a better aunt." She paused thoughtfully, pouring a measured amount of the coffee into her mug. "He is a good man," she said softly.

"Sí," Carmelita took a sip of her coffee and eyed Irina over her cup, collecting her thoughts. "It is good. He needed you last night; it was a close thing. Just a little further to the side..." She held up her hand, indicating a small gap between her thumb and forefinger. "Just a little, he would have been gone in minutes. I'm glad you were watching for him."

Irina's hand closed around her cup convulsively. She brought it to her lips for another drink, covering the slip in her composure. "Well, I'm sure you're the only one."

"The deed was good, no matter who is thankful. And who would not be? Juan has enemies, I'm sure, who want him dead. But his friends will thank you." Carmelita took a seat across from Irina. "Something lies between you two," she said, her gaze fixed intently on Irina. "I see it with the eyes of an old woman who has looked at death and life many times. There is a great pain there, but something also that ties you to the other."

"That is a very long story, Señora."

"And you do not have to say." Carmelita reached out and patted Irina's hand. "I am only glad for him that he does have a friend who saves his life. And glad for you that he would do the same. And more than that, well, I shall light a candle for you in church this Sunday."

Irina didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the comment. She stared at Carmelita for a moment. "Thank you for the vote of confidence. I have a feeling I'll need it." Her gaze shifted to the partially open door of the surgery.

"You do not believe me," Carmelita said. "But I understand. You care for him, I see that." She turned pensive. "Juan does not let anyone into his heart. I see glimpses of it sometimes. It was a beautiful thing once, but now..." She trailed off. "Hidden. I hope to live to see it one day."

"As do I. Someday."

"Perhaps I shall light the candle tonight," Carmelita said kindly. "I am expected at Mass, and I should keep to my normal schedule, no?"

Irina gave a slight nod. "Good idea."

"And at church I shall ask and learn if any dangerous gossip has found its way here. Ladies from all around the area come to knit together. It is a perfect place for information."

Irina chuckled. "You're in the wrong profession, I think."

Even the joke was dangerous, but Irina was starting to get a good idea of what the doctor may suspect about her patient downstairs. How much has Jack told her? she wondered. Little, if anything, I'm sure. And Carmelita knows not to ask.

"I have learned from Juan," Carmelita replied. "But in my heart, I would rather tend the sick." 

Irina rose and put her cup in the sink. "Thank you again for your hospitality. If there is any way I can repay you -"

The old woman held up her hand. "There is no 'pay this' or 'owe that' between friends, Señora."

While Carmelita made her rounds, Irina repacked the Explorer, checking the car for damage and going over her supplies. When that was done to her satisfaction, she snagged a pair of binoculars from the back of the SUV and headed to the roof to keep an eye on the road into town.

***

Irina sat in the shadow of Carmelita's chimney, careful to remain still as she adjusted the zoom on her binoculars and did another sweep of the street. What amounted to rush hour in El Tigerito was a lazy line of cars drifting down the town's main thoroughfare. 

A flash of movement caught her eye. Below her, Carmelita's little car turned into the drive. Irina uncoiled from her position and stretched. Looping the binoculars around her neck, she ducked into the house and down the stairs.

"Señora Laura, I think we have a problem," Carmelita said as she hung her coat on a rack in the hall. The light reflected in her thick glasses. "Several of my friends have seen and heard of men in cars asking for strangers. This is in neighboring villages, no one here yet, but I do not think that is reassuring."

"I agree," Irina replied. She drummed her fingers on the kitchen table. "Not here yet," she murmured. How long did they have before their pursuers caught up to them? "Do you have any idea how close these men might be? Days away? Hours?"

"They arrived in Rio Oro this evening. I guess it will be hours, Señora."

Irina's gaze slid to the surgery, where Jack slept. "Can he be moved?"

"You are thinking you must leave?"

"I think it would be best. We've already put you at risk here."

Carmelita appeared as though she was about to argue, but acquiesced. "He should not be moved, but better to move him now than risk a fight later, no?"

"Sí. Thank you." Impulsively, she kissed the old woman on the cheek.

Carmelita affectionately patted Irina's cheek in return. "Let us gather supplies and food, then we'll wake up our bull."

Irina nodded, already halfway to the bedroom to collect her things. Packing took only a few minutes, but Irina went over the room twice more, making sure she'd left no trace behind.

When she returned downstairs, Carmelita had finished packing food and a thermos of coffee for them. A duffel bag full of medical supplies sat by the door, ready to go. 

Irina followed Carmelita into the surgery. The doctor washed her hands at the small sink while Irina roused Jack. She was struck anew by how fragile he looked. He needs rest, and time to heal, she thought, neither of which we have. She touched his cheek. "Jack. Wake up. We have to go."

Jack stirred. His eyes were unfocused, his skin pale. "Trouble?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Maybe. People are asking questions in the next village."

"Is our location compromised?" he asked thickly.

"Not yet. But I think it's better that we leave before anyone sees us, or notices a break in Carmelita's routine."

"Agreed," Jack said. His bleary eyes met hers. "I have to trust you again."

Irina stifled a flash of irritation. "It's your choice, Jack, as always. But we do have to move. Now. Do you understand?" Her tone sharpened as she saw his eyelids flutter.

"Juan." Carmelita moved to his bedside and called sharply to him. "I will check your wound one last time before you go." The doctor exposed the wound and talked them through wound care and other concerns as her gentle but skilled fingers examined and changed the dressing. Irina listened intently, absorbing Carmelita's instructions and filing them away for when she had to change Jack's dressing for him. She snorted softly. Siberia would melt before Jack would allow her near enough for that.

Carmelita finished her task, and Jack pulled off his oxygen tube and oximeter. He said, "I'm sorry, Tia."

The doctor stopped for a moment and laid a hand on Jack's cheek. "Tsk. Do not worry for me, Juan el Toro. Just regain your strength." 

"Gracias, Carmelita. Dios te bendiga," he said with a brief, ghostly smile before the old woman turned away to load the supplies into the car.

Jack was pale, and he listed dangerously to the side. Scanning the surgery, Irina spied the old wheelchair in one corner. She grabbed it and wheeled it toward him. "Do you need help?"

He eyed the wheelchair with distaste, but did not protest. "I'll make it." Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed. His good leg barely supported his weight, but he stumbled into the chair and sat. "I need my pack." 

"It's here," Irina replied, pulling his pack from beneath the chair where she'd stowed it. Despite his medication, he quickly searched the bag, and relaxed visibly when his hand grasped the item he was looking for. Irina idly wondered what it was. 

She looked around the surgery, her gaze landing on the tourist magazine she had paged through earlier. She took it and stuffed it into her bag. The phone listings could be useful. "I know we haven't discussed it, but Lima offers concealment and transportation," she suggested.

"Agreed," Jack replied.

Irina wheeled Jack through the hall to the narrow carport, where Carmelita waited beside the Explorer with the last of their luggage. The two women loaded the car, and then maneuvered Jack into the passenger seat. 

Pale from exertion, Jack took a moment to hold Carmelita's hand in both of his. She smiled broadly, and a hint of warmth seeped into Jack's normally cold expression. Then the moment was over, and Jack shut the car door, leaving Irina with the doctor for her goodbyes. 

"Señora," Irina said. "You've been a good friend. I wish I'd had the chance to get to know you better. But staying longer would only put you in danger." Irina smiled grimly. "And Jack would kill me if that happened, comprende?"

"Comprende," Carmelita said with a smile. "You are a good friend to Juan, even if you two argue with every word. You are both alike in many ways, a panther and a bull. Have patience," she advised.

Irina laughed. "That man excels at trying my patience," she replied. "I've waited this long for him; I can wait a little longer." She laid a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Tell Juan I will be safe. He worries too much.  As soon as your car leaves, I'm going to the house of a friend across the street. I can watch my house without fear from there. Goodbye Señora."

"Goodbye, Carmelita. Be well." Irina reached out and hugged the old woman before climbing into the driver's seat. She put the car in gear. Carmelita opened the gates and the car rolled out onto the main plaza. 

Lima, Peru

Villa el Salvador

Dawn had broken by the time they entered Lima. Irina pulled off the highway into a parking lot before waking Jack with a light touch to his shoulder. "We're here."

Jack stirred, then he lifted his head, blinked, and looked around. Villa el Salvador was a district to the south of Lima, barely one step up from the shantytown that originated it. Traffic was just starting to ply the narrow roadways, with the occasional auto rickshaw precariously navigating a traffic circle. Gaining his bearings, Jack said groggily, "Keep on going into town. Make a right on Los Alamos."

Irina pulled out onto the street. After a bit of defensive driving (a rickshaw had made the unfortunate decision to try and cut in front of her) she turned off the main road into a maze of turns and dead ends. Squat grey buildings lined the streets, each as forgettable as the last. They passed a strip mall and a lively Spanish tune spilled out of a shop. She found the street Jack had indicated and turned. "Now where?" she asked, focusing on the street in front of her.

"Left," Jack said, and guided her on the last few turns to what appeared to be an old gas station. The pumps were gone, but the building was still there, as was a sign: "Adelmo's Auto Shop." 

A lone figure stood by the auto bay doors, clothed in greasy gray overalls with a dirty red rag protruding from his back pocket. He was a wiry man, short and thin, with piercing black eyes and a bald head that gleamed in the morning sun. As Irina pulled up, he took a drag from his cigarette; the ashes at the end burned red before he puffed out an exhalation of smoke. Without a word, he pulled up the bay door and motioned for Irina to drive the Explorer inside. Once they were in, he let the doors drop again, sealing them off from the city and prying eyes.

Jack rolled down the window and warmly greeted him in robust Spanish. "Adelmo! Buenos días, amigo." 

"Buenos días, Juan," the man replied, and indicated Irina, "Señora."

"Señor," she acknowledged.

He eyed her sharply, and the end of the cigarette glowed brightly again. Adelmo had seemingly mastered the art of never having to touch his cigarette; he simply kept it dangling at the corner of his mouth. He turned back to Jack and slid his hand over the Explorer's fender, examining it. "This is the car?"

"Yes. Consider it a gift."

Adelmo's hands stopped at a bullet hole near the wheel well. "An interesting gift," he commented. "This car has a story to tell. But you can rely on me to keep it secret. Pedro and I shall make it unrecognizable, and then give it to my granddaughter." He moved to the passenger door, and opened it. Glancing at the bloodstains, he said, "But I shall have to clean the upholstery first. You look like hell, Juan. Did someone put a hole in you?"

"Sí," Jack replied. "I need to disappear for a few days to regain my strength." Jack tried to step out of the car, but Adelmo put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping Jack in place. The mechanic looked at Irina. "There is a couch, in back of the shop. We can get you there with help."

Irina held the man's gaze steadily. She wasn't sure what to make of Adelmo. It was clear that Jack trusted him. Maybe too much, she thought, getting out of the car. Unlike Carmelita, it was obvious that the mechanic was in the game. Stripping cars was only a small part of whatever business he had going.

Right now, Irina didn't care if Adelmo was running contraband across the continent. What she did care about was getting whatever Jack had come here for and getting out.

Together they managed to lever Jack out of the Explorer and help him to the back room. As they entered the shop, Irina scanned the area. There was only one car being worked on at the moment, a battered Subaru. The hood was up. A boy-no more than sixteen, Irina guessed-was tightening a lug nut. The wrench slipped, and the boy swore.

"Eh, Pedro!" Adelmo called. "Traeme agua." Pedro dropped the wrench and darted out of the shop.

They led Jack to the couch, a lime green affair stained with motor oil. And beer, Irina thought as the scent of alcohol wafted up from the cushions.

Jack dropped onto the couch and, with Irina's help, propped his leg on the table. The mechanic eyed Jack's stained trousers and said, "I hope all of your important parts are still intact, mi amigo."

"All accounted for," Jack assured him.

The mechanic crushed out the remains of his cigarette into an ashtray. "Bolas de acero," he said with a grin as he lit a new cigarette.

Irina almost smiled at that.

Pedro ducked into the room carrying water bottles. Irina passed one to Jack and the boy set the rest on a rickety side table stacked with ancient issues of Playboy and Penthouse.

Irina turned her attention to Adelmo. "Jack tells me he has resources here."

The mechanic's cigarette glowed again. "I don't know anything about that. But I do have a shed in the yard you will want to look at."

Irina's gaze sharpened, then she gave a nod. It was a concession of sorts. They didn't trust each other, but they could work together. "Jack?"

Jack nodded.

Irina rose and followed Adelmo to the shed. The mechanic unlocked the door, then handed the key to Irina. "Bring this back to me once you're finished." Adelmo left her then, and Irina stepped inside.

The shed was small, and surprisingly neat. A radiator stood against the back wall, with a car battery next to it. Various nuts and bolts were stored in plastic bins along one wall. And there, an uneven plank of wood in the middle of the room, half-covered by a beat up set of rims. She knelt and moved them aside. Reaching for her pocket knife, Irina prised the panel free and lifted it up, revealing a manhole cover.

Irina rolled her eyes. She had to admit that an underground fuel tank was a clever idea for a storage locker. Even so, she had to wonder if Jack had seen one too many Bond films in his life.

Irina removed the cover to reveal a yellow ladder descending into darkness. She moved swiftly to the bottom of the tanker, where her feet met solid ground and she immediately turned on her penlight, searching for a light switch. She found it, and a bank of fluorescents buzzed to life.

Irina took a moment to get her bearings. Shelving lined both walls, leaving a narrow walkway in between. She noted that each item was neatly arranged in its own space, labeled and-ah, yes, color-coded. She chuckled, grabbing a bag that was helpfully designated "travel IDs" in precise, even type. A quick search turned up the other items she needed: laptop, first aid kit, and several bundles of Peruvian soles.

Irina took several more trips up and down the ladder, hauling their used equipment into the tanker. She winced as she leaned their machine guns against the wall, uncleaned. After a moment's hesitation, she removed her TTs and placed them on a shelf next to a Glock. Uneasiness crawled up her spine. She hated being unarmed; it left her with one less option if things went bad. Irina smoothed her hands over the denim of her jeans nervously and turned to ascend the ladder a final time. When she reached the surface, Irina replaced the manhole cover and locked the shed on her way out.

She knocked on the shop's back door and handed the key to Adelmo when he opened it. "Gracias."

"My pleasure, Señora," he said. He led her back to the break room where Jack still sat on the couch, his leg propped up on the coffee table beside an empty plate. 

"Tamale, Señora?" Pedro offered her a plate with two steaming tamales fresh from the dilapidated microwave.

"Gracias, again." Irina felt a bit silly at the stilted conversation. She reminded herself that she didn't know this man. Jack trusted him, and normally that would be enough for her, but Irina remembered Kashmir, and a clogged filter. That contact's intentions had been benign, but they'd still been left without transportation.

Irina sat down beside him and bit into the first tamale, and realized how hungry she truly was. She'd had dinner the night before, but little else. She vaguely remembered eating a sandwich Carmelita had packed for them on the drive. Had that been six hours ago? Seven? It didn't matter. Irina's stomach growled, and she forced herself to slow down.

Adelmo lit another cigarette. He sat in a padded chair, legs crossed, completely at ease in his domain. "My nephew Segundo is a taxi driver. I have called him to come. He will take you to Barranco and your hotel. But mi amigo, you look like you are on the run from the police. Or a madman. Likely both."

"I know it," Jack replied. "I'll need some pants, at least."

"Alas, mine will not fit you. Nor will Pedro's. But I have something that will perhaps serve," Adelmo said with a grin as he puffed out a cloud of smoke. 

Lima,  Peru

Barranco District

Irina rushed through the hotel's huge double doors, a hand steadying her broad-brimmed hat so it didn't blow away. "Señor, Señor-" She flattened her voice into a generic American accent. "We have la reserva"-she tripped over the Spanish for effect- "nombre Johnson?"

The front desk clerk smiled kindly at her and switched to English. He gathered the papers he had been working on and set them aside. "Certainly, Mrs. Johnson. Let me review - ah yes. You called last night? Reservations for two in one of our mini suites. We are looking forward to hosting you."

"Wonderful! If you could tell me which room we're in, I'll get the rest of our things and head upstairs."

"Ah Señora, it is very early," the clerk said in a smooth apology. "Checking in this early, we would have to charge for the previous night. If you would-" 

"I'll pay whatever I need to," she said, cutting him off. "My husband is...indisposed."

"I see, Señora." He awkwardly adjusted his tie, and lowered his voice in an attempt to  persuade her to lower hers. "I'm afraid your room is not ready, all of our mini suites are booked until 3pm this afternoon. However the hotel staff will do everything to make you and your husband comfortable until your room is ready. We can store your bags, and you may make use of our beautiful lobby and restaurant while you wait."

"In the lobby?" Irina leaned forward and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. "My husband drank too much last night-and this morning, comprende?" She raised her voice again. "Then give us one of your other rooms. A bigger room."

"A bigger room? Señora, none of our rooms are ready this early in the day. I'm very sorry, perhaps I can offer you free breakfast while you wait?"

Time to call in reinforcements. Irina removed her hat in one sweeping motion and clutched it to her chest in the agreed-upon signal. "Señor, we need a room, any room. Freshening up a small suite wouldn't take up too much time, would it?" She gave him a conciliatory smile.

The man paused, mildly flustered, but gathered himself for his next attempt at persuasion. "Señora Johnson, I certainly understand your difficulty. Our lobby is very comfortable --" He broke off, eyes widening as his gaze shifted from Irina to the front doors of the hotel. 

A gust of wind blew through the lobby as the double doors opened, bringing with it Jack, leaning heavily on Segundo, Adelmo's taxi driver nephew. Jack's tattered clothing was hidden beneath Adelmo's gift: a wildly colored woven poncho in blues and reds that reached to his knees. He concealed his limp with a drunken stumble, and loudly exclaimed in an inebriated drawl, "There you are, Sweetheart. Why did you leave me all alone? Oh my stars, they have a bar."

He swerved from greeting Irina to dragging himself into the elegant bar adorned with deeply stained wood and eclectic artwork. A colorful cubist mural covered the wall behind the bar, and hotel staff had set up the breakfast buffet on a long sideboard. A young couple's quiet breakfast was interrupted by Jack's entrance. They put down their cappuccinos and stared.

"Pedro, get me over to that bar." Jack nearly dragged Segundo with him, and the young woman behind the bar stared at the spectacle like a deer in the headlights. 

"Darling," Irina called out to Jack, looking pained. "You didn't need to come in; I'm taking care of everything." She stifled her irritation. They were taking too long. Either they'll throw us out, Irina thought, or we'll get five-star accommodations. She turned to look at the clerk and mouthed "Room?"

The clerk gathered himself for one more protest. Before he could speak, however Jack heaved himself onto a barstool, reached into a serving plate full of bagels and lox, and chomped down on one. Still chewing, he eyed the bartender. "Bloody Mary! That's perfect. How about one? Pumpkin!" he called to Irina, "Can you order a drink for me, I don't think she speaks English. Blood-eee Maria?" he spoke slowly and raised his voice a notch. The befuddled bartender gazed from Jack to the desk clerk. 

Pumpkin? She turned to look at Jack. Oh, he was going to pay for that. "I'll have something sent up to our room, Angel." 

The clerk visibly flinched at the state of his breakfast buffet. "Please," Irina hissed, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

The clerk took pity on her, even as Jack called out - loud enough for the entire first floor to hear him - "Lovey! Lovey, are you there?"

With that, the clerk shut the hotel book and leaned forward over the desk, "I understand Señora, I shall put you in the Colonial Suite. It's very private and-" He was interrupted by Jack retrieving a cajón in a display of ethnic musical instruments, and proceeding to bang on it. "Yes." He snapped his fingers and three bell boys appeared instantly, all showing some degree of second-hand embarrassment on Irina's behalf. The clerk issued curt instructions to the staff, and everyone went running to prepare the room, secure their luggage, and get Jack out of the breakfast buffet. 

Irina favored the clerk with a relieved smile and hustled up to Jack. "Sweetpea, we have our room. It'll be ready in a moment." She nodded toward a bell boy. "Could you get our bags from the taxi? Gracias." To Segundo, she said, "Help me get him upstairs." Irina took the drums from Jack, cutting off his impromptu concert.

"Can I still have a drink?" Jack was reluctantly pulled away from the bar and kept up his drunken commentary down the hall. "Sugarplum, where are we going?" he drawled as Irina and Segundo helped him up a narrow spiral staircase to their room.

"I told you, Creampuff, I can have someone send up breakfast once we're settled." Irina found the room and she and Segundo settled Jack into a chair. The bellboy appeared with their luggage, and she tipped them both generously. "Thank you, gentlemen." Segundo gave Irina a knowing wink on his way out the door.

Irina leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow at Jack. "Sugarplum?"

Jack pulled off the poncho and tossed it aside. He had all but collapsed into the chair. "Creampuff?" he countered.

"Tootsie?" Her lips twitched in amusement.

"That was next." Jack gingerly lifted his leg to rest on the other chair. He was pale, but otherwise alert. "Nice room," he commented. 

Irina turned in a circle, taking in the suite. Beyond the small lounge area that she stood in, the king-sized bed took pride of place. She walked over and touched the comforter. "Very nice," she murmured, noting the high count linens and down. The building was a former colonial mansion, repurposed into a boutique hotel. Just large enough to hide them easily, yet still off the beaten tourist track. The furniture was white, with rich brown accent pieces and tastefully displayed artwork. To one side of the bed, an alcove held a stand, with white towels stacked neatly beneath a round sink and gold-edged mirror. An old-fashioned clawfoot bathtub was visible behind plantation doors. 

"You should get some rest," Jack offered. "You were driving all night."

"I will, after I eat and go get us clothing." Irina picked up the in room phone and dialed room service. "Sí. Yes...this is room 347 We'd like Peruvian eggs. Huevos..." she trailed off, feigning ignorance. "And, wait-two espresso. No, better bring the whole carafe. And a Bloody Mary. Yes. Gracias."

She hung up the phone and turned to Jack. "About fifteen minutes." With that, Irina went into the bathroom to freshen up.

She splashed some cold water on her face, and glanced up at the mirror. She looked drawn, dark circles forming beneath her eyes, and she leaned heavily on the edge of the sink, suddenly drained. Perhaps Jack was right. Maybe she should take a nap before going out. Irina pinched the bridge of her nose, and blinked away the gritty feeling in her eyes. No. They needed clothes, badly. Better to get it all done now and collapse later.

There was a knock on the door and a call, "Room Service." Irina collected herself and emerged from the bathroom to let them in. 

There were in fact three waiters. In a testimony to Jack's performance downstairs, the overstaffing was probably a result of curiosity or the management sending up reinforcements. They wheeled in a service cart and pleasantly and professionally arranged the food on the table beside the terrace. 

"Oh bring that here, Pedro," Jack called when the waiter revealed the Bloody Mary, complete with a resplendent celery stick. "Gray-see-us, I'll take that little thing right here." The waiters exchanged knowing looks, but the drink was delivered to Jack as he sat on the lounge, poncho in his lap. He began slurping happily.

"Oh, how lovely!" Irina exclaimed effusively. "Thank you all so very much!" She pressed a stack of bills into each waiter's hand, then hurried them out the door. "Very prompt service, yes. Thank you." She shut the door behind them and let out a breath. "Very curious gentlemen, aren't they?" Irina lifted the cover off the meal, revealing two sets of eggs, huachana sausage, and a crusty loaf of bread. Handing Jack a plate, she said, "Coffee?"

"Thanks. They gave me a very weak Bloody Mary. That was thoughtful of them." Nonetheless, he was halfway through it already, and continued sipping as he ate.

"And very strong coffee," Irina said appreciatively. They kept the conversation light as they ate, each careful not to break the uneasy truce between them. After they were finished, Irina reached for her purse.

"Do you need anything, while I'm out?"

"A wardrobe," Jack said, the corner of his mouth twitched minutely in amusement. "I do have a shaving kit, so that's something."

Irina answered his almost-smile with her own. "Aside from that."

He held up the poncho and said, "Have Segundo return this with my regards."