Ghosts of Guatemala

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The master bedroom in Pablo’s compound was the size of a small apartment. A massive king-sized bed sat in its center, on a round hand-woven carpet spilling out from under the claw foot legs propping it up. The colors were a rainbow of purples and reds and yellows, looking like a flattened egg from some fairy tale. The bed matched its sentiment with white silks flowing from the brass canopy. The bed was raised four feet off the ground and seemed difficult to climb into, but there was a helpful stepladder at the side for just this purpose.

It was the first time Marcela had been in the room. Black bereted guards had opened the great double bay doors for her and as she entered across the threshold, she knew she had made some progress in her mission. Years of training and experience couldn’t stop her heart from pounding.

She noticed Juan first, sitting in a cushioned chair next to the bedside. His legs were crossed and his hands clasped, chin resting upon them. He was desperately trying to look comfortable amidst the men flanking him. It was then that she noticed there were guards around the entire room. Everyone was watching, and it was not only odd but disturbing.

The bed loomed before her. The silk canopy bed curtains were translucent enough for her to see Pablo sitting cross-legged on a pile of pillows, n***d. His bare chest looked broader and thicker without one of his usual thin cream shirts covering it. A similar effect fell on his shoulders and arms, making them look stronger and larger as they rested at his side.

She could hear the sounds of s*x. A woman’s moaning, lips kissing, skin rubbing, the light wet smacking sound of fluid and flesh. Marcela didn’t have much of a chance to think about it.

“Strip,” Pablo commanded.

Marcela did as she was told. The room was hot and stuffy with all the bodies in the space, but she felt cold as the last of her garments were removed. Nakedness would always remain a vulnerability for most. But not her.

My body is a weapon, she reminded herself. It was an old creed, but it carried on because it was true. The last of her clothing fell to the ground. Pablo smiled.

“Juan, mi niño, what do you think of her?”

Juan looked at Marcela with a cold expression, brow furrowed and lips pursed. As he examined her up and down his eyes lingered on her small breasts. She saw his imagination working behind his eyes; a fantasy playing out in his mind. But Juan simply blinked and said, “She is very beautiful, tio.”

“You must get used to calling me papá, mi niño, just as Pablito does. Maybe he can help teach you.”

Juan bristled, but nodded.

“Or maybe Marcela will. Marcela may call me papá.” Pablo reached a hand out to Marcela, emerging through the curtains. For some reason this lazy gesture was terrifying. For an instant Marcela felt a shiver run up her spine, despite the heat of the room. She composed herself.

Working for the Firm required her to do many difficult things, some monstrous enough to make her reconsider her humanity from time to time, let alone working for the Firm. The temptation of fleeing had crossed her mind, embarrassingly, more than once. But these were the times she cleared her head, remembered what she had committed to, remembered the underlying reasons why she began, and the ultimate end goals that drove her on, staying her course.

She took Pablo’s hand, feigning shyness, and let herself be led up the stepladder and into the massive bed.

Being a female agent meant she used s*x as leverage more than if she were a man. This bothered her on some level; it felt demeaning that for all her abilities it often came down to the shake of her a*s to disarm a target. But she was also aware of the variety of ways to work a target, and men couldn’t do what she could. She was prepared to do what was required of her. What disturbed her most now was not s*x — far from it — it was the absurdity of the way Pablo ran his master bedroom. She managed not to glance at the guards around the room. Marcela had been exposed to some strange kinks in the past, and a few had even been surprisingly appealing, but this made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“You look better without clothes, mi querida.”

Marcela made herself blush and covered her breasts, playing the shy maiden so many men enjoyed. But Pablo did not bite.

“Maybe we should have you n***d all the time. What do you think, Juan?”

Marcela turned to see Juan staring back at her through the translucent silken sheets.

“I think that might be too much.” He frowned. He was handsome, Marcela had to admit, but he was also wicked.

Pablo shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” He leaned in to whisper to Marcela. His breath was hot and smelled of crisp mint. “I don’t hide anything. That way everyone is kept safe.”

The blankets stirred and Pablo lifted them, revealing Isabella’s head at his crotch. The woman’s long black hair was a tangled mess, but even then she looked composed and beautiful. She licked her lips and brought herself to sit n***d on her thighs. Her breasts hung lightly and Pablo cupped one as he put an arm around her.

It was fitting Isabella was here. It had been she who had hired her.

“It seems Marcela is still shy,” Pablo said to Isabella. “Why don’t we show her we are all family here?”

Isabella moved toward Marcela, groped her lips with her fingers, then moved onto her neck and bit her ear, hard. Pablo began to probe Marcela’s waist. His fingers walked down one at a time, inching lower and lower. He exhaled a deep, quiet chuckle of satisfaction into her ear.

Marcela kissed Isabella and felt pleasure begin to ebb at the touch of Pablo’s fingers. Pablo said he had no secrets, but she knew a couple managed to remain hidden. She would fish out the information she needed and disable the kill switch. She would get what she wanted, and maybe more. So she spoke on cue.

“Oh, papá…”

Ringing the walls of the room, guards stood and watched impassively.

***

Later, when Marcela had retired to her room, she checked her special prepaid cell phone hidden among some clothing in a bottom drawer. She checked it constantly throughout the day, but hadn’t received word from the Firm since she had arrived almost two weeks ago. She had done her job. But it felt hollow. She had integrated into the Puentes estate, and tonight had been proof of that progress, but the winds of what Pablo was up to were changing.

She didn’t expect communications with the Firm to be any different this time. Instead, there was one unread text. Her eyes lit up with disbelief at the words on the screen:

Backup en route.

Rendezvous at birdfeeder 13:30

Relief washed over her. She’d find a way to slip out and meet her backup at the safe house. It was time to finally get this mission underway. With talk of a kill switch and Pablo taking on the United States, she had a hunch what lay ahead. She licked her lips, committed the message to memory, and watched it disappear from her phone.