“Buenos dias,” he said pleasantly.
“English?” Morgan asked, not looking up.
The tavern owner nodded and his smile never changed. “Good morning. Our menu is small, but I can offer you fresh lemonade on this hot day.”
“We’ll take a pitcher,” Morgan said. “Strong and sweet. And a fat beef enchilada. Re-fried beans. Small bowl of chili. Twice.”
The old man nodded more deeply and moved away. When he was gone, Felicity leaned toward Morgan and said in conspiratorial tones, “He speaks English!”
“Of course he does,” Morgan said. “Belize is not Mexico, you know. You’ll hear a lot of Spanish here, and a kind of Cajun dialect, but English is the official language. This little country was a British Crown Colony for a hundred years. Only got its independence in ‘81.”
“Oh.” Felicity fell silent. She was sure she must look like a total idiot to him, and did not want to give him any further evidence. His mind seemed light years away anyway, which suited her just fine. It gave her time to think. As always, she had a plan. It percolated in her mind while she excused herself to visit the ladies room. It too proved clean, although she didn’t enjoy washing her face and hands in cold water.
When she returned to the table, she saw that Morgan had also washed while she was gone. She found him easier to look at with clean hands and face but she wished he would smile more. Soon after she sat down their food came, on chipped china plates. Morgan fell on his hungrily. Felicity poured and emptied two glasses of lemonade before she even approached the food. She finally lifted a fork full of the beans as if judging their weight, and dropped them back onto her plate.
“How can you eat this disgusting, overly spiced slop?” she whispered.
“Hey, when you’re hungry, food is food,” Morgan said between mouthfuls. He continued in an imitation Massachusetts accent that surprised her. “I suppose you’ve got the cultivated palate of a gourmet. Too bad. I’ve eaten too much mess hall food, in the U.S. and a few other armies. My taste buds retired long ago.”
Despite her reservations, only seconds passed before the necessity of hunger drove Felicity to taste parts of her meal. Two minutes later she was eating steadily, and soon was devouring her food greedily. She had nearly finished her greasy meal when she suddenly looked up.
“Do you have any money?”
“About twenty dollars American,” Morgan said. “More than enough for the meal.”
“Wait a minute. You travel in a foreign country with just twenty dollars in your pocket?”
Morgan’s face hardened again. “I didn’t get paid for my last job.”
“Hm. You know, the men who stranded me also stole something from me,” Felicity said between bites of enchilada. “I’d be willing to pay you a fair amount if you’d help me get it back.”
“What’s your idea of fair? I’m pretty expensive help. Besides, right now I don’t even know when we’ll get to civilization. Hell, I don’t even know where I’m going next.”
“Look, I’ve got plenty of money,” Felicity said, pushing the last of her rice onto her fork. “I just don’t have any with me. I lost my purse in the jungle in the dark. As for how we’ll get to civilization, don’t be worrying your little head about it. I spotted an old pickup truck down the road. Nobody will miss it. You said Merida was less than three hundred miles away, right? We can be there tonight. I can wire for cash from there and we can fly to my Los Angeles home.”
“Hold on!” Morgan said. “You’re moving a little fast here.”
“I thought you were an adventurer. Besides, do you have anywhere else to go?”
“Well, I guess not,” Morgan said after a few seconds.
“Well then, I say let’s be off.”
They were approaching the end of the road when Morgan finally accepted that this woman was serious. They stopped next to an ancient blue Chevy pickup truck. Dust covered, with just passable tires, it stood like a lonely swayback mare awaiting its rider.
“You intend to buy this old hulk somehow?” Morgan asked, grinning. “Or maybe talk the owner out of it?”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll just take it.”
“Real nice,” Morgan said, trying the door. “Just like that. It’s locked, you know.”
Felicity shrugged. “So?”
From her matted hair she drew a small sliver of spring steel, almost like a shiny bobby pin. She slid this into the driver’s side door lock in businesslike manner and opened it. Under the dash, she pulled wires and twisted them carefully. The starter reluctantly turned and the engine leaped to life. Just under seven seconds passed between her sprightly “So?” and her terse “Get in!” They heard loud voices behind them, shouting in Creole and English, but Morgan figured that by the time the locals got another vehicle on their trail, that trail would be cold. The local police force was probably pretty disorganized, so getting into Mexico with this rust machine should prove no problem. All in all, he was impressed.
“You know, Red, you’re all right,” he said, shaking her head by a handful of hair.
“Thanks,” Felicity said, “but don’t call me Red, okay? Nobody calls me Red. Hey, this thing’s got a tough clutch. You want to drive?”
“Sure thing, Red,” he said with a deep laugh. “Pull her over.”
“No need. Don’t want to give anybody a chance to catch us.” Felicity gripped the wheel tightly and raised herself from the seat. After a couple of seconds she said, “Well, come on. Step on the gas and slide on over here.” Shaking his head, Morgan pushed her foot off the accelerator with his own and pulled himself under her body, so that she was steering from his lap. Once he was in place she nimbly hopped off him to land on the seat to his right. She was giggling a bit, as if they had just performed some schoolyard prank, and Morgan had to admit her relaxed smile was infectious. As the truck, bucking like a rodeo bronco, rolled over the endless treadmill of a road, he thought it was a good chance to take some time to think.
After a couple of minutes, Morgan asked, “Are you sure this `business acquaintance’ of yours stole something from you? Not that it matters, but it occurs to me that maybe you stole something from him.”
“Not from him,” Felicity answered. “For him.” After a much longer hesitation she added, “It was a contract job. I’ve a feeling you know about such things. Only, like yourself, I didn’t get paid.”
“Oh, so you’re for hire, eh?” he asked, grinning.
“Not usually. I’m self-employed, normally. But this deal looked so good…”
Felicity stopped as Morgan pulled the pickup around a curve in the narrow dirt road, and then pulled them over to the side.
“We’re approaching the border,” he said. “I got no problems in Mexico, but the Belize boys might be watching. This is a pretty obscure crossing point, but I want to go up and take a look before we drive on up there.”
As Felicity watched from the truck, Morgan walked down the road ahead. He looked like a huge man when she was standing beside him, but now he was dwarfed by the tall jungle trees lining the road. The foliage presented a solid wall of green, because tree bark was obscured by vines and moss. The tall, massive trees appeared to be woven together, as if some giant seamstress had pulled her needle in and out between them, a needle threaded with thick, leafy vines.
Morgan’s uniform matched the jungle perfectly, but she followed his movement at the edge of the road. About twenty meters ahead, he suddenly stepped to the side and vanished into the brush.
“What a thief this man would make,” she said aloud.
Felicity sat alone for what felt like an hour, although she knew it was barely ten minutes. As time passed, weariness overwhelmed tension and she began to relax. Just as her eyes were about to slide closed, Morgan silently stepped through the green barrier onto the road. He didn’t look happy, but he wore an expression more of annoyance than actual concern. He didn’t speak until he was right beside the truck again.
“These bozos have got a pair of kids in uniform up there watching the border.”