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He handed over the three passports. The official opened them, stared into their faces. “This woman is a Mexican citizen. You two should be in that line over there.”
“Señor and Señora Moore are with me,” Constanza said. “As you can see, I can’t get around without them.”
The official grunted. “Business or pleasure?” he said to Bourne in a bored voice.
“We’re on vacation,” Bourne said, matching the official’s tone.
Their passports were duly stamped and Bourne pushed the wheelchair through into the baggage claim area, Rebeka just behind him. They stayed with Constanza, helping her with her baggage, while, some yards away, the Babylonian fumed, pacing, helpless to come nearer.
Outside security, she was met by her chauffeur, a burly Mexican with tiny piggy eyes, a pockmarked moon face, and the demeanor of a doting uncle. He unfolded a beautiful aluminum wheelchair, transferring his charge into it without seeming effort.
“Ma
“Absolutely, Señora,” Ma
She turned her head. “Mr. Moore, you and Rebeka must be my guests. There’s plenty of room in the auto and, since it’s lunchtime, I insist you take the meal with me.” She waved a hand. “I’ll not hear a word to the contrary. Come along now.”
She wasn’t kidding about having room. Her “auto” was a Hummer limo with a custom interior that made it as comfortable as a living room.
“Tell me, Mr. Moore, what is your line of work?” Constanza said when they had settled themselves and Ma
“Import-export,” Bourne said without hesitation.
“I see.” Constanza, watching Rebeka as she stared back at the pickup area, continued, “I so love people with secrets.”
Rebeka turned. “I beg your pardon?”
“My late husband, Acevedo Camargo, was a man composed almost entirely of secrets.” She smiled slyly. “Sometimes I think that’s why I fell in love with him.”
“Acevedo Camargo,” Bourne said. “I’ve heard that name.”
“I expect you have.” There was a distinct twinkle in Constanza’s eyes as she addressed Rebeka. “My late husband made his money, like so many clever men in Mexico, in the drug trade.” She shrugged. “I’m not ashamed of it, facts are facts, and, besides, it’s better than kowtowing to Gringos with your face in the dust.” She waved a hand. “No offense, but we’re in my country now. I can say what I want, when I want.”
She smiled benignly. “You mustn’t misunderstand me. Acevedo was a good man, but, you see, in Mexico, more often than not, good men die. Acevedo turned his back on the drug trade. He became a politician, a crusader against the people who had made him a multimillionaire. Brave or stupid? Possibly both. They killed him for it, gu
She sat back, apparently exhausted by her memories. Ma
“I’m so terribly sorry,” Rebeka said, after exchanging a quick look with Bourne.
“Thank you,” Constanza said, “but there’s really no need. I knew the life I was drawing when I fell in love with him.” She shrugged. “What can you do when desire and destiny become entwined? This is life in Mexico, which is made up of equal parts poverty, hopelessness, and shit. An endless series of defeats. Excuse my bluntness, but I’ve lived long enough to know how tedious it is to beat around the bush.”
Her hand, slender, elegant, and burnished with nail polish and jeweled rings, made circles in the air. “Because this is what life is here, we learn to take any path that will lift our faces from the mud. I chose Acevedo. I knew who and what he was. He would not, couldnot, hide those things from me. Over the years, I advised him. No one knew, of course. Such things are frowned upon for a woman.” She smiled, almost wistfully. “I gave him more money instead of children. Being tied to the kitchen and the nursery was not for me. I told him that at the very begi
She lifted her head, a brave smile on her face. “Thinking back on it, I’m certain now that he knew he would be killed. He didn’t care. He wanted to do what he wanted to do.” That enigmatic smile again. “Brave and stupid, as I said.”
The limo, exiting the highway, turned left onto Avenue Rio Consulado and then the Paseo de la Reforma. As they entered the city proper, the navel of the Distrito Federal, home to twenty-two million souls, Constanza’s eyes snapped back to focus on Bourne and Rebeka.
“ Dios mio,” she said, as they drove through the choked streets of the Historic District, “listen to me rambling on about my life when I so want to know about yours.”
So,” Don Fernando said, “who do you belong to?”
Martha Christiana, plucking off a bit of buttery croissant, concentrated on her breakfast. “Why should I belong to anyone?”
“All women yearn to belong to someone.”
She took a sip of her café au lait, served in a thick white porcelain cup the size of a small bowl. “What about the independent women?”
“ Especiallythe independent women!” he said with enthusiasm.
“Independence needs to be attached to something, otherwise it is meaningless. It has nothing to contrast with. It withers and turns bitter.”
The two of them were sitting at a round table with a glass top and heavily filigreed wrought-iron legs, one of perhaps a dozen scattered across the rooftop restaurant that overlooked the busy harbor at Gibraltar and, further out, the deep-turquoise Mediterranean. The high blue sky was dotted with benign-looking meandering clouds. A freshening breeze stirred her hair. It had been late when they had finished in the room where her mother sat, locked inside her own mind.
Martha had needed to talk, though it shamed her at first. Later on, after he had helped her put her mother to bed, much to her astonishment, the shame had evaporated like mist in sunlight.
She looked up now into his strong, lined, sun-bronzed face. He saw her expression, and his hands opened wide. “What? I’m the man who loves women.”
“At the moment you don’t sound like it.”
“Then you’ve misunderstood me.” He shook his head. “No one chooses to be alone, no one wants it.”
“I do.”
“No,” he said evenly, “you don’t.”
“Please don’t tell me what I want.”
“My apologies,” he said without really meaning it.
The eggs came then, along with papas bravasand salsa verde. They ate silently for a time. A tension was building between them. At the moment Martha Christiana realized that it was deliberate, he said, “So now who do you belong to?”
A tiny smile broke across her lips, which she hid by mopping a ru
Now she understood what this conversation was about, and why he had taken her back to Gibraltar. She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.