Page 24 of Shadow Man

“Can’t!” she puffs out, over her shoulder. “I have less than sixty seconds!”

We reach a long queue of people by the curbside, all idling away time next to their metal trollies piled high with multi-colored belongings. She yanks me to a stop, and then drags me in between two parked-up red and yellow tour buses.

“Stay here,” she says, leaning over to catch her breath. “Don’t let them see you.”

“Who?”

“Blacked-out SUV over there.” She points to a car parked twenty yards away on the opposite side of the road. Two men are hovering by the open driver’s door, dressed in identical blue suits and white dress shirts, smoking cigarettes and chatting shit like most of the other businessmen in the vicinity. As we watch, a passing car beeps its horn unexpectedly and their hands dive into their jackets. I don’t need to see the glinting metal there to have further confirmation of which side of the law they fall on.

“Who are they?” I whisper, my heart sinking.

“Alberto Fernandez’s men. Cartagena Costavo,” she says, flicking her black hair away from her face. “His father, Alejandro Fernandez, controls this place and all the nearby townships … He runs this territory all the way up to the northern ports.”

My blood turns cold. “You mean he’s a drug lord?”

She nods. “Alejandro Fernandez is one of the big five in Colombia.Los Cinco Grandes.”

Holy shit.

I’m scared suddenly.

I ran a thousand miles to escape from men exactly like them.

“This won’t take long.”

“Vi, wait!” But she’s already crossing the road.

The men glance up as she approaches. Words are exchanged; one even has the temerity to tap his watch at her with a smirk. I watch their eyeline dip to her ass as she moves toward the back door. It opens up wide, and she slides inside.

I wait and I wait, my eyes never leaving the black SUV, even when a bus driver shoos me away from his vehicle, forcing me to blend in with the growing line on the sidewalk. Uneasiness is blasting my skin and wicking away the worst of the heat. I’m torn with indecision… Do I wait here on a wing and prayer, or do I blow my fragile cover to help her out? What price do I put on a woman I only met ten minutes ago in an airport restroom?

A couple of Colombian law enforcement officers stroll past, looking me up and down with interest, until finally,finally, the back door to the SUV opens up again.

Vi doesn't know I’m watching her blasé mask slip. She doesn't know I’m seeing her tug at the hemline of her little white dress with a bitter familiarity that cuts me to the core, and when her hand darts out I know it’s to catch a stray tear that’s equal parts anger and shame. I’ve conditioned myself to never ever drop my guard like this, but she wears it so freely in her moment of privacy.

Her feisty spirit returns the moment she reaches my side of the road. She taps on my arm, and gestures for me to follow.

“Let's get out of here.”

“What happened?”

“Usual shit,” she sniffs.

“Did they hurt you?”

“Can we just walk, please?” She folds her arms tight across her chest, keeping her head low like a disgraced animal. “The dare’s over. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

“Okay.”

We walk in silence, all the way to the CTG parking lot. She takes out a key from her purse and leads me toward a Red Renault with a cracked windscreen and a dented front bumper.

“My other’s car’s a Ferrari,” she jokes, attempting to shake the tension from us.

“Listen, Vi, you don't have to do this. Just drop me off at the nearest hotel—”

“No.” Two dark circles flash in my direction. “We made a deal, remember? I may be shit with money, men, my business and everything else in my personal life, but Ialwayskeep my promises.” We catch each other’s eye again across the top of the Renault before she’s opening the door. “I’m done with airports for today,” she declares, sliding into the driver’s seat.

I slide in after her in full agreement.

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