by Frank Perry
“Cybil, I had no idea how you felt. I thought it was just me. Look, I’m not going to apologize for being here. It’s just something that happened and was an opportunity I took.”
Cybil responded, “It’s not you, Rachael. I think I could like working for you, but, you know, it’s just been hard to swallow after all these years.”
“Look, for what it’s worth, I don’t see this as a broken Agency. I wouldn’t join a loser. I want to do a good job and would really like to have you with me.” She wasn’t sure about the last part.
“Okay. I’d like to try.”
“Me too.”
Cybil nodded her head and started to rise when Rachael asked her to stay.
“Cybil, you can help me.”
“With what?”
“Well, tell me about Jamie Montes.”
Later that day, Rachael remembered that she had turned her mobile phone “off” while meeting with Vitale. The message from Peter was several hours old when she listened and called him back. He answered, “Hello.”
“Hi, I just got your message. Sorry, I had a meeting and forgot about the phone being off.”
“That’s okay. Look, I just landed at Dulles and am waiting for my stuff.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Ah. I wondered if we could get together -- for dinner or something.”
She answered slowly, “Ah, sure. What time and where?”
“How ‘bout Louie’s in Arlington around seven?”
“Okay. I’ll see you there.”
The call ended without any signal from her that relations had permanently changed.
He got home with enough time to shower and change, and then drove to the restaurant, arriving early.
He was sitting in a booth when she arrived fifteen minutes late saying, “I’m sorry about the time. I got involved in some stuff at work and wanted to rush home first.” She looked remarkably refreshed coming straight from work.
“You look fabulous.”
“Gee, thanks. You too.”
He exhaled and smiled, “I saw John and Carolyn this morning. He’s going to be all right. It’ll take time, but Carolyn will get him in shape.”
“You and Josh. I shiver thinking about what you did.”
“Just some more childish heroics!” He hated it as soon as he said it. Their relationship was still too fragile for sarcasm.
She took the heat off, “So, what shall we order.”
“Rachael, I, I want to talk about us.”
At that moment the waiter arrived, inquiring about drink orders. Peter’s annoyance with the interruption showed on his face. The waiter offered to return later, but Rachael said, “I think we should have a bottle of wine. What do you think, dear?” He was momentarily speechless.
She ordered, “Ah, do you have a good Pinot Noir?”
The night was special. Rachael kept him off balance throughout dinner, without ever acknowledging his overtures, but tormenting him with words of affection injected at unexpected moments. Just to keep him repentant longer, she hugged him when the evening ended, but didn’t offer a kiss. She drove away with a smile on her face, watching his bewildered stare in her mirror.
Midday the following day, she received a call from Mexico. When it ended, Cybil told her that Mr. Vitale needed to see her immediately. She took her notebook and took the elevator to the first floor. Walking directly into his office, “Did you want to see me, Sandy?”
“Yes, Rachael. Come in and shut the door.”
She did as instructed as he began, “I talked to Jamie Montes.”
Rachael sat up rigidly as he continued, “He was calling from ‘his’ hacienda in Mexico City. It was a really strange call. I got the impression that he was trying to keep someone from listening.”
“What did he call about?”
“Well, that’s the strange part. He wasn’t completely clear, but I think he wants to meet and explain something.”
“Hmm. I guess he wouldn’t call if he was happy as a disenfranchised spy.”
“Nicely put. Anyway, how would you feel about going to Mexico City?”
“Me? Alone?”
“Rachael, you’re in a field operation now, and this is what we do.”
“Yes, I know, but do you really think it’s that important?”
He stared at her like a stern schoolmaster. “Rachael, I’m the Director of the CIA, and you’re my Deputy. We can’t afford to play games.” He let out a breath, “Yes, I want you to go.”
Taken aback, she responded, “Yesser. I’ll go right now.”
“Look Rachael, I want you to make sensible plans. I’ll have the Embassy meet you. You’ll meet with Montes in some out-of-the-way place. He’ll tell you where. The embassy will be in charge of your safety.”
“All right, Sir. When should I leave?”
“Tonight.”
She felt uneasy about the trip and meeting with Montes, but didn’t really have an alternative. On the way to pack, she called Peter to tell him she was going out of town. He asked where she was going and she could only say, “Company business.”
The travel office coordinated her trip beautifully, and she was airborne within minutes of arriving at Dulles. The flight changed in Dallas, and she arrived late at night in Mexico City.
Rachael had no idea what to expect in Mexico other than thin air and pollution. She’d seen press interviews with illegal aliens that had made it seem like everyone was dying of starvation, living in a police state, with corruption a way of life. When the plane landed and she came out of passport control, she was relieved to see a nicely-dressed young woman standing in the baggage-claim area holding a sign with her name on it.
Her Latina chauffer seemed to sense it was her before she introduced herself, “Hello, I’m Rachael Aston.”
“Hello, Ms. Aston. I am Rochelle from the U.S. embassy and will take you there after we claim your luggage.”
Within ten minutes, they were driving in a nice air-conditioned American car through streets that would have been impassible a few hours earlier. Rachael sat in the front seat at the request of the driver, “to look less conspicuous as an American executive.” Kidnappings were frequent near the airport. She also said, “This car has half-inch Lexan windows and armor all around, so you’re safe.”
“Gee, it’s comforting to know that.”
“Yes, I know that it is sometimes a bit scary for newcomers. For us who live here, you get used to it. You just take some precautions. It’s different than in the States, not worse, just different. In many ways, people here live more carefree lives because they don’t expect very much. There is always mañana.”
Rachael responded, “I guess it’s no different in DC. There’re a lot of areas you don’t drive in, day or night.”
The embassy was a five-story building about twenty minutes downtown from the airport, when there was no traffic. They drove through an arched entry after the Marine guards opened the massive iron gates. She felt secure again inside the American enclave.
When the car stopped, she was met by Steve Harris, Assistant Trade Attaché. “Hello, Ms. Aston. Welcome to our little piece of paradise.”
Within less than a minute, it was “Steve” and “Rachael.” He almost stumbled several times trying to open doors for her. “Steve, I’m a modern girl. You don’t need to keep opening doors.”
“Okay, Rachael. It’s just something my mother taught me. Always open doors for a lady.”
“Look, just treat me like another spook. I know you’re not really a trade attaché.”
“Touché. By the way, we made reservations for you at the Marriott down the street. It’s safe and we’ll handle all ground transportation.”
“Thanks, Steve. I don’t know where or when I’ll be meeting with someone.”
“No problem, Rachael, our Marines provide protective services. They dress in civies outside the Embassy.”
“Great. Now I’d like to make a phone call.�
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Jamie Montes didn’t want to wait until morning. He said he would meet her in the Hotel bar around midnight. For Rachael, it was almost two in the morning body clock time, but she agreed. She asked Steve if a Marine could be in the bar also, which he arranged.
After checking into the hotel, it was nearly midnight, so she went to the first-floor lounge immediately after dropping her bag in her room. The bar was enormous with several fountains and a raised gazebo bandstand, which was empty. Tropical plants added to the privacy of numerous darkened booths with recorded bird calls in the background for white noise. It was about half full with dozens of table conversations going on and booze flowing freely. She first looked around for the Marine, who acknowledged her from the bar. Even in civilian clothing, his haircut was obvious. She smiled, then walked further into the room, around the water fountain, looking for Montes.
She was sitting in a chair facing the entrance when he arrived promptly on time. Walking up to her, they shook hands quickly and he said, “We need a booth, something out of sight.” They settled in one of the rear booths farthest from the bar, and farthest from the other patrons. She noticed the Marine shift positions to keep her in view.
Jamie was nervous and impatient. “I thought Vitale would come!”
“Sorry, Jamie. I’m what you get.”
“Look, Rachael, I’m sorry, but you’re way out of your league here.”
“So, what’s so important that only the Director can hear it?”
Montes stared at her for several moments, “Maybe this was a mistake. I should have done this differently.”
He was sweating, and she almost felt sorry for him — almost.
“Look,