Nadin heard a knock at the door. She pulled the footstool up to the door and peered through the peephole. She could see two men, wearing the uniforms of the Mexican Red Cross. She reached under her journo vest and grasped the handle of her Bowie knife, then opened the door.
"
Por que?", she asked.
The taller of the two men said, "
Mande, senor. We are looking for
El Capitan Brzezinski, formerly of the Mexican Red Cross."
"For ****'s face, I am
El Capitan Brzezinski," Nadin growled, as she released her grip on the knife handle, turned her back on the men, and walked back into the room.
"A thousand pardons,
El Capitan. I was told that you were a woman. Some surgery, perhaps?"
"Hey, are you gonna shut that door?" Nadin asked impatiently.
The two men quickly entered and shut the door behind them.
Nadin peered at them through bleary eyes. The taller man wore the rank of
El Major, and the other man's uniform was unadorned by rank or name tag. Nadin knew what that meant. There was only one unit in the Mexican Red Cross who could have sent these men across the border and onto her doorstep. Her old unit, the team whose name could not be spoken aloud, on pain of death. She wished she didn't know that shit.
"Are you
El Capitan Nadin Brzezinski Abbott, 501st Special Medical Squadron,
El Cruz de Rojo?" asked
El Major, as he read from a dossier. He pronounced "Brzezinski" as only a Mexican could. He looked at the picture inside, then at Nadin skeptically. He could smell lemon floor wax on her breath, and wondered if she had been drinking it like a
Tijuanica, or merely rubbing it on her gums, as was the practice in certain parts of
Baja California.
"I'm retired", she replied.
"Our files indicate that you are a master of disguise, but I did not expect such a convincing impersonation of that great
norteamericano, Benjamin Franklin. Does that disguise allow you to move among the
gringos undetected?
Nadin glared at the major. She knew a bully when she saw one. She hadn't noticed that the other man, the one without rank or name, was watching her intently.
"Ask me again,", she grunted.
"
Fue sin querer, senora", El Major replied. "I meant no offense."
"Ask me again, and you'll find yourself on the iggy list."
"What is this "eegy" you speak of?"
Nadin said, "Never mind. We'll cross the Rubicon when we come to it."
The two men exchanged worried looks. The major feared Nadin's predilection for lemon floor wax had damaged her brain; while the mystery man merely wished to be somewhere, anywhere but there.
"
El capitan, we have been sent by those whom you know - I hardly need say their names - to ask your assistance on a most delicate mission. Much as your past mission, in the wilds of Bellevue, Nebraska", the major struggled with the pronunciation, "you must infiltrate a hostile place alone. Those who sent us wish to impress upon you the importance of this mission, and to tell you that you are the only person they trust to complete it with skill and discretion."
The man without a name spoke for the first time. "We can say no more, unless you agree to the mission."
Nadin was silent.
After about a minute, the men realized she had nodded off. "Damned lemon floor wax. Come on, Pedro, give me a hand", the major said to his partner. Together, they dragged Nadin to the shower, and she woke up screaming under the cold spray.
To be continued.
