Page 35 of Prisoner of War
“He’s from the Secretaria de Gobernacion.”
Minnie shrugged.So what?
Her father smiled at someone across the table, clearly trying to keep up appearances. He lowered his head closer toward her. “Departmentof the Interior. The customs and immigration people.”
She had no idea why she went along with it but she gave him a small smile back and said in a low voice, “I thought theDepartamiento de Migraciontook care of that shit?”
“Apparently not. Let’s not keep the man waiting any longer, huh?”
* * * * *
Miguel Oquendo was a small, swarthy Mexican with little English. When Minnie and her fathersat on the other side of the table from him, in the public section of the restaurant, he nodded shortly at both of them.
“Señor, señorita,” he murmured, sliding a business card in front of both of them. Minnie picked it up curiously. Miguel Oquendo. DirectorEjecutivo, Industria Y Comercio. Secretaria de Gobernacion. She shrugged and looked up. Oquendo had physically swiveled on his seat to faceher father directly and was preparing to speak. She had been dismissed.
So she deliberately stretched herself to make her breasts thrust forward and slid the card between them, tucking it inside her dress.
Oquendo didn’t react physically, but he did hesitate for the tiniest fraction of a second before launching into a speech in rapid Spanish.
Minnie’s Spanish had dramatically improved in thelast few weeks so she had only a little trouble following the intent of his speech. They were American aliens in Mexico and although their passports and documentation were in order, it had come to his attention that they were actually working here in Acapulco, which was not permitted. They wereno-inmigrante, the FM-3 document they held did not permit—
At this point, her father held up his handand said in decent Spanish, “We have carried out no work for pay on Mexican soil.”
Señor Oquendo blinked. “But you are living in the big house on the edge of the Sierra Madre del Sur, overlooking the bay.”
Her father looked surprised and it was only because she knew him well that she knew he was faking the surprise. “You mean, the house that was occupied by Vistaria’s Consul to Acapulco andGuerrero State before the current hostilities broke out in Vistaria?”
Señor Oquendo’s officious manner subsided. “That is the house I speak of,” he said stiffly.
“That house and the property around it was and still continues to be recognized by the Mexican government as a Vistarian possession. While we are in that house, we are in practice in Vistaria. What we do there has no legal interestfor the Mexican government.”
“Yes, yes, I understand this concept,” Oquendo said hastily.
“Evidently, as you saw fit to wait until we had stepped over that invisible border to harass us with this demand of yours.” Josh frowned. “What exactly are you demanding, anyway?”
Oquendo pulled a snowy white linen handkerchief from his suit pocket and blotted his forehead and upper lip. “I wished onlyto establish the truth concerning some irregularities in your stay here in Mexico.”
“Good evening, gentlemen. Is there a problem?” The voice was low and quiet, the words in Spanish. She looked up. Nick stood right next to the table, staring down at Oquendo. Adán was at his shoulder, all signs of mirth gone from his expression.
Oquendo jumped to his feet, rocking the table in his haste. “Señors...”He was flustered, his gaze jumping from Nick to Adán and back. “I... Good evening.” He bowed his head quickly.
“No problem,” Josh said easily, leaning back in his chair. “Señor Oquendo was under the impression we were illegal immigrants in his country. I was just pointing out that the FM-3 documents we carry are more than sufficient for the simpleturistastatus we actually observe and that whatwe do for the government of Vistaria is none of his business.”
“Is that correct, Señor Oquendo?” Nick asked softly. His tone was gentle, his expression neutral, but Minnie understood why the Vistarian army had dubbed him The Red Leopard. His stillness, the wariness emanating from him, the impression that he was braced and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation...it was justlike a leopard stalking prey.
Minnie thought of the jaguar that had stalked her. She shivered.
Oquendo either sensed Nick’s wariness or knew his reputation, for he picked up his portfolio. “We have reached an understanding, Señor,” he said swiftly. “I thank you for your time during this most important occasion.” He bowed jerkily to everyone except Minnie and hurried out of the restaurant.
Nick turned and watched until he ducked under the barricades the police had erected to control the crowd out there, only then relaxing his stance. He cocked an eyebrow at her father. “Squeeze?” he asked in English.
“I believe so.” Josh shook his head. “It was remarkably inept, I must say.”
Nick smiled. “Give the word and I’ll report him to his department. They’ll have it out of his hide in blood,I promise.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Josh said quickly. “No harm done. I knew just enough about diplomacy to see through it.” But despite his jovial wave-off, Minnie knew that something was bugging him.
Nick patted his shoulder. “Come back to the table,” he said. “I’ll buy you one of the smoothest fifty-year-old scotches ever distilled to celebrate your elevation to the powerful and rich.”
