AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You are very tired, Lauren. When we get to the apartment, you must rest,” and Alex gently slid his hand beneath her elbow. This time, she didn’t tense. Was it because she was playing her role as his wife? Alex didn’t know, but wished that he did. He felt Lauren lean into him and that’s when he realized she needed a little care. She had slept through most of the flight. It had been a restless sleep for her, though. He wanted to do something to help her, but he didn’t know what. She stumbled a few times going down the dirt hill littered with endless sharp rocks. And, each time, Alex gripped her elbow a little more firmly to steady her.
Lauren forced herself to stay alert. This wasn’t the first time she’d been severely sleep deprived. As a sniper, she would catnap, five minutes at a time, and then continue her watch for her target. The plaza was a huge square of flat, carved stone tiles. At one end of it was a Catholic church built out of gray stone, reminding her of the 1800’s style of Spanish churches. The small restaurants, pizza parlors, hairdresser and grocery store ringed the busy plaza. She liked that there were planters full of colorful flowers, and bushes at its center, with many park benches where a person could sit and take in the sights, sounds and smells. Alex cut his stride for her benefit as they began the long walk up the slope of the concrete street. There were donkeys with carts, hundreds of tourists, the sidewalks lined with one- and two-story businesses, all designed to lure in the curious tourists and take their Peruvian soles or US dollars.
“You know this place well,” she said.
He nodded, casually looking around as a tourist might. What Alex feared the most was unexpectedly running into one of the five Russian teams he used to be a part of, who were constantly roving across the area. With Vlad as their leader, they usually dropped into Aguas Calientes about once a month. Most of the men took prostitutes, drank beer, got good Peruvian food in their bellies, a hot shower, and badly needed rest. He and his best friend, Nik Morozov, the other combat medic, had only ever showered, ate and slept. They never took a prostitute. “Too well,” he murmured, keeping her close, liking the way her body sometimes brushed against his. Monitoring Lauren, Alex didn’t feel any tension in her from his close proximity. Closer than he’d ever been before. It was bittersweet, because he wanted to show her that a man could be gentle toward her. It was all a dream, much like the thin, twisting, white, filmy mists that moved in slow motion through the jungle surrounding the town.
“Are you worried you’ll meet someone you’ll know?” Because Lauren knew from the briefing material that all five Russian mafia teams came here to recharge and rest up.
“Yes.”
She could feel a fine tension thrumming through Alex. To casual passers-by, he looked like a tourist, nothing more. But he was on guard. Working. Alert. “What’s the plan once we reach the apartment?”
Alex gave her a quick glance. “You are going to get a shower and then, rest up. I am going to that small airport nearby to pick up our weapons bags. I will bring them back to the apartment and we will get set up.”
“I can help.”
“No. You need to rest.”
Her mouth thinned but Lauren didn’t argue. The scent of spices and food cooking, the blaring of horns, the pounding of deep-throated drums and raspy Andean flutes from bars created a cacophony of sensory overload. The quiet of the jungle was being violated by commerce and awful noise pollution, she thought.
“Here,” Alex said, gesturing to a three-story yellow stucco building. “We are on the third floor. He guided her to the concrete steps that would take them up to their apartment.
Lauren found the climb a little tough, her breath coming quicker. She knew her body had to acclimate to the altitude. Where they were going, the jungle was at six to seven thousand feet at times, but Alex had told her they would be up at ten thousand feet sometimes, to reach some of the Quechua villages in order to talk to the chiefs to find out where the Russian teams were currently operating.
Alex said, “Stay here. I will come back with the key.”
Nodding, Lauren was content to lean against the black wrought iron rail and observe the busy, noise-ridden and colorful traffic below. She was glad they were high up; the disjointed music clashing far below them and muted to a degree. She saw mighty Machu Picchu towering above the town, rising like a French loaf of bread stood on one end. The raw, sharp, black lava flanks of the mountain were covered with thousands upon thousands of jungle growths, bromeliads, orchids and spindly trees. There were two other similar-looking mountains, the fog’s wreath-like white, sinuous necklaces, weaving in and out among them and always moving magically as if guided by an unseen hand. She felt the peace of this area and silently absorbed it. She heard Alex rapidly climbing the stairs. He must be as tired as she was, but he looked fresh and alert. Now, Lauren was getting a taste of what a Spetsnaz operator was made of.
He smiled a little at her. “Beautiful, eh?” and he gestured toward the loaf-like mountains. “There is Machu Picchu, ‘old mountain’, right in front of us,” he said, gesturing upward, “and, to your right, Mama Putukusi, and between them, Huynu Picchu or ‘young mountain’.”
“Almost magical.” She moved out of the way so he could open the bright-yellow door. Lauren noted it had no window in it so see who might be standing outside. No peephole, either.
Alex said, “Let me clear it first.”
Lauren remained outside as she watched him move like a silent shadow through one room after another. Within minutes, Alex returned, gave her a nod, and gestured for her to come in. She locked the door behind her and turned, appreciating the spare living quarters. The floors were a reddish, polished wood, the stucco walls white, allowing the large, square room to be bright and filled with indirect sunlight. The furniture consisted of a rattan couch, two chairs and a coffee table. A bright, woven Peruvian rug lay beneath the furniture.
Wandering into the kitchen, Lauren watched with curiosity as Alex examined the small refrigerator, the stove, and the double sink and white laminate counter. He checked out everything, every cabinet, opening and closing them. He was thorough. Even the lamp fixtures, where a tiny camera or microphone could hide, he went over. He found no bugs.
“Go get your shower,” he told her. “No bathtubs in Peru,” and he grinned a little. “There are towels, but no washcloth. They don’t use them here. I packed some in my suitcase. If you want one, open it up and get it.”
“No tub,” Lauren muttered, shaking her head. “And I absolutely need a washcloth.” How was one to get truly clean without one? She saw him smile and it made her feel good, her heart automatically opening to Alex. He was sunlight, Lauren decided. When he smiled, his whole face lit up and those hazel eyes of his gleamed with humor. She wished she had his ability to smile.
There was a sharp knock on the front door. Lauren instantly tensed, wishing she had a pistol on her. Right now, without those weapons bags that had been flown up by the Army Black Hawk pilots from Lima, they were unarmed. Alex held up his hand.
“Let me get this.”
Lauren watched as he went to the window facing the stairs, and peeked out of it to see who was standing there.
“It is the boy with our luggage,” he called over his shoulder, opening the door.
Lauren saw a thin, fifteen-year-old boy with long, straight black hair cut in a bowl shape around his head. He wore a white jacket, and clean black slacks, with his badly scuffed and worn sandals. She heard Alex speak to him in Spanish, pulling out several twenty-dollar US bills from his wallet. The boy almost literally glowed as he saw how much he was receiving as a tip. Alex took the luggage and closed the door.
“You made his day,” Lauren murmured, coming over to pick up her luggage and carry it back to the bedroom.
“I gave him two twenty USD.” Alex slid his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos. “A US dollar is equivalent to three Peruvian soles. That money will keep his family well fed for the next six months.”
She gave him a thoughtful look. “You’re an operator with a heart.”
