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"Right away," he responds without questioning his sergeant.
The sergeant likes the way the corporal works; he's efficient and follows orders without seeking explanations. This has spared her the embarrassment of refusing to answer, as in a case like this, the fewer people who know the mission's details, the better. She can't risk the information leaking and reaching Teodoro's ears. Despite all being good agents, there's always someone who spills the beans for a few bills.
The phone rings, and for a moment, she thinks it's them. However, the information she receives leaves her stunned, or worse, in a very delicate situation. Once again, and not to lose the pattern that has developed around this case, they might be on the verge of discovering one of their identities in the most absurd and coincidental way possible.
"Let him in immediately," she responds and hangs up in disbelief.
Chapter 19
Gretel can't stop tapping her fingers on her knee while obsessively checking the clock, watching the minutes pass agonizingly slow. She has blocked her husband Pol on the phone because he wouldn't stop sending messages, making her even more nervous.
Abigail watches Gretel and swallows hard. She wishes she could tell her to stop that constant leg bouncing, but her own right leg is possessed, bouncing endlessly while Mikel whimpers non-stop in the car trunk, heightening both their nervousness. They've halted in the midst of a grove near the road, the car strategically positioned for a quick escape if needed. They've planned it out: they'll blindfold Mikel so he can't identify the car or Abigail's license plate, and they'll slip a tiny, dull blade into his pocket just sharp enough to delay him cutting the tape on his hands until they're long gone.
With one minute left before they must turn on the phone, they grip each other's hands tightly, a firm declaration that they're in this together. Nervous sweat dampens their palms, and their fingers slip, yet Abigail brings Gretel's hand to her lips, leaving them pressed together for a few seconds, eyes closed. Gretel wishes this moment could last forever; if the touch of Abigail's lips on this basic part of her body makes her shiver, she dreads to think about the effect in a more sensitive spot.
Finally, the minute hand hits the fifteen-minute mark, and Abigail powers on the phone. They exchange a look, fully aware that this is likely the most crucial call they'll ever make. Stepping out of the car, they move a bit away to ensure Mikel can't overhear any part of the impending conversation.
With their hearts echoing loudly in their ears, Abigail places the phone on a tree branch at head height. Both women fix their gaze on it as if worshipping some sacred artifact. The minutes start ticking away in the most torturous manner they've ever experienced.
"He's not going to call," Gretel whispers, sweating, with three minutes left.
"He has to, even if it's just to tell us he rejects the deal, he has to call," Abigail responds, frowning, keeping her eyes fixed on the device.
"How do you know? We said we'd release him; if they don't accept the deal, he shouldn't care about what we do."
"He does care; don't forget he's a Civil Guard."
Abigail strives to sound convincing, but the truth is she has serious doubts too. Two minutes left, she instinctively glances at the trunk, envisioning the moment when they open it, release Mikel, and make their escape. Then the phone rings.
Sergeant Cruz Ortega deliberately waited fourteen long minutes to call, heightening the two women's nerves, a fact unbeknownst to them.
"How are you both doing?" she asks, puzzling them.
"We've had better days," grumbles Abigail. "Do you have an answer? Remember, one minute left."
"I do. Can Gretel hear me too?" she replies, an eerie calm in her voice.
Hearing Gretel's name from the sergeant's mouth freezes both women. Gretel feels her legs weaken, and Abigail grabs her arm as she wobbles.
"Because one of you is named Gretel, right? Gretel MartÃnez Alaveda."
Chapter 20
For a moment, Abigail is so bewildered she doesn't know what to say. Yet, she permits herself only that because she's a woman with the exceptional ability to stay calm in extreme situations. Moreover, she knows she must be the one to respond, seeing the look on Gretel's face as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Give us a second," Abigail says, trying to buy time to comprehend what just happened.
"Of course," the sergeant replies, relishing the moment.
Gretel's lips start trembling, then she turns pale, and finally, her eyes well up fear and uncertainty gripping her as she grapples with the sergeant having uncovered her identity. Gretel's identity.
Abigail cups her face, ignoring the phone still there with the sergeant waiting for them to speak. She guides Gretel backward, putting enough distance so she can't hear them. Abigail's analytical and agile mind, working at lightning speed during this brief journey.
She can't fathom how they identified Gretel. It eludes her, considering the only lead they had to track them was hers the credit card, not Gretel's.
"It's okay," she whispers, trying to soothe her.
"What do you mean it's okay?" Gretel sobs, trembling.
