Act III — Chapter 27
27
Hernando Mejía spoke no English, and had no papers. He wasn’t stupid; he knew to keep his head down and his mouth shut. Stoically, he rubbed a Windex-coated cloth against the interior of the windows of the lower west wing of the Medina Gallante.
He saw motion outside. From the stone steps leading down to the wharf, a man’s head ascended into the light. A small Bluetooth device sat nestled in his ear, beneath a yellow safety helmet. He wore brown coveralls and a toolbelt, and carried a toolbox and a complex-looking device. He could’ve been a plumber or an electrician.
The man proceeded toward the doors. When he pulled on their handles, they wouldn’t budge. The man knocked on the glass, waved to Mejía, and said something in English. Mejía replied in Spanish, but t
