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Post by AgentScarlett on Nov 6, 2004 13:00:45 GMT -5
Chapter 19: Neutiquam erro (I am not lost)
Cam dove for the gun and his hands grasped it. Sands let out a yelp of surprise as he felt the gun being pulled away from him.
‘You really didn’t see it coming, did you?’<br> “d**n it. Let go of the gun, Sands!”
Sands let out what could only be called a growl as he tried to regain his grip on the only thing he felt he could control.
“You f.ucker! I… I see… no… no. I mean… I know… I know how it is. You don’t want me controlling the balance. But it’s what I do. I control the balance. I control… the balance.”<br> When his position finally allowed him to, Cam grabbed hold of Sands’ wrist and twisted hard, and Sands gasped as he was forced to drop the gun to the ground. But Sands was never one to admit defeat, even now when the mighty mistress had her deathly fingers around his neck. He immediately acted. Just as Cam tried to kick the gun away from Sands, Sands shoved Cam hard against the dresser and turned his attention back to the floor, his hands groping around in the place he’d heard the gun drop as he muttered urgently.
“Restore the balance. Set them up and watch them fall. Just watch them fall. Watch them fall.”<br> Cam shook his head, trying to clear it, as blackness threatened to close in on his vision. It was by sheer will - and terror at the sight of Sands fingers brushing against the gun lying on the floor - that he managed to fight off the encroaching darkness and lurch forward to stop him.
When Sands’ fingertips brushed up against the gun, he grasped it quickly. “Watch the mighty fall,” Sands whispered, as he started to raise the gun to his temple again.
But Cam had the element of surprise on his side and grabbed hold of Sands’ arm before he could take accurate aim, slamming the gun and Sands’ hand against the dresser just as a shot went off. Sands shouted madly, but as soon as the shot rang out his body went rigid. His hand released its hold on the gun and it dropped to the floor.
Not willing to take any more chances, Cam immediately scooped the gun up and unloaded the clip. Watching Sands out of the corner of his eye as he lay against the dresser, pale and breathing heavily, he tossed the unloaded gun onto Sands’ bed and tucked the clip inside his jacket.
“Sands?” Cam asked. He crouched next to him and, after some hesitation, laid a hand on Sands’ shoulder. Sands’ body and mind appeared to be totally spent, as if they both just came to the agonizing conclusion that there was no way to win the battle. “Jeff?” Getting no real response Cam grabbed hold of Sands’ shoulders and gave him several hard shakes, raising his voice a few levels higher than normal. “Listen to me you crazy son-of-a pregnant dog!”
Sands eyebrows drew together as he finally turned his head to face Cam. Cam heaved a weary sigh as he allowed his body to collapse next to Sands on the floor. Attempting to keep the tiredness and worry from lacing his voice, Cam continued. “Jeff, you’re in your apartment with your ex-partner in crime, Eric Cameron. Cam.” Cam paused for a second, making sure Sands was comprehending him, before asking, “Are you following me, cowboy?”
Sands took a deep and shaky breath; not really sure of what had just happened, but attempting to focus on what was going on now. He felt dizzy and weak, and he couldn’t seem to get his own body to stop shaking.
Finally, Sands nodded a slow response in the affirmative.
It was slowly seeping into Sands’ mind now, what had happened in Mexico, and what had happened… what was it? A minute ago? Thirty minutes ago? An hour ago? A day ago? It had been almost two months, yet the thought struck him hard, suddenly, without warning.
‘I’m never going to see again.’<br> ‘I’m never… going to see… again.’<br> A small and unwelcome flow of air escaped Sands’ lips, as his lungs emptied out their supply in defeat.
‘You set them up and watch them fall. So perhaps it’s bitter irony that you didn’t get the pleasure of watching your own fall.’<br> A minute passed in which they sat in complete silence, Cam letting Sands get his wind back and sort things out in his mind. Cam leaned heavily against the dresser behind him, deciding to be patient and let Sands make the next move. Slowly, the fog within Sands mind cleared. It took with it the feeling of confusion, but didn’t pay him the courtesy of also removing the feeling of depression he was experiencing.
‘You’re not going to let them win are you?’<br> ‘Let who win?’<br> ‘Douglas, Martin, Ajedrez, the Cartel. You can’t let them win.’<br> ‘That’s right. That’s right. I can’t let them win. I’m Sheldon Jeffery Sands of the…’
‘All of them. They’re all the same. Some dead, some still alive. You can change that.’<br> ‘Restore the balance.’<br> ‘It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?’<br> After another minute rolled by Sands pulled himself away from his internal conversation, remembering Cam was likely still in the room.
‘Cam was here… wasn’t he?’<br> “Are you still with me cowboy?”<br> Finally Sands broke the rigid silence.
“Yippee-ki-yay, motherf.ucker.”<br> Cam let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and laughed in relief. “Alright John McClane, I think you’ve had enough action for one day. Why don’t we make our way into the living room? I’ll fix you a stiff drink. You look like you need it.”<br> Sands let out a frustrated groan and leaned his head against the dresser.
‘What the hell is wrong with me? Letting myself get pushed over the edge by that not a very nice person, Douglas. That should not have happened… and now… now, I’ve got Cam here treating me like some f**king child.’<br> ‘Weak. Weak. Weak.’<br> “F.uck off Cam. Just leave me alone,” Sands snapped back, irritably. He didn’t know what was going on with himself, and he’d be d**ned if he let Cam figure it out before he did.
Cam rolled his eyes as Sands seemed to go back to his normal self, his annoyance tempered with great relief.
“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here alone in this condition.”<br> “I don’t need your help!” Sands growled, as he slapped Cam’s hand away and tried to stand on his own, failing miserably.
“Of course you don’t, a.sshole. You’re perfectly capable of handling yourself. But I’m already here and I really have nothing else better to do, so you’re getting my help anyway, like it or not.”<br> A long silent moment passed between them before Sands emitted a short grunt.
“Friggin’ pain-in-the-ass,” he grumbled as Cam grabbed hold of his arm and helped him up roughly.
“Oh yeah, and you’re not?”<br> Sands allowed himself a small smug smile as he regained his balance. “That’s right, I’m not.”<br> Cam gave him an incredulous look, before Sands continued. “I’m a royal pain-in-the-ass.”<br> “Well, I can’t argue with that.”
Cam led Sands to the couch and sat, or rather pushed, Sands down on it.
“Sands, your skin is clammy. I think you have a fever. Please, just sit there for a minute and try to take some slow, deep breaths. It will help clear your mind.”
Cam could swear that even without eyes, Sands had managed to fix him with his nastiest glare. Sands opened his mouth to say something no doubt equally nasty but Cam cut him off.
“Don’t even start your s.hit.”<br> Sands snapped his mouth shut and ground his teeth. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Cam watched Sands sit there in complete silence as he obviously tried to withhold an outburst. Cam noticed that Sands wasn’t breathing quite as quickly as he had been before and his body was shaking a little less. However, he still seemed exhausted, and when Sands was too exhausted for a good comeback… well, then something was seriously wrong.
After a moment, when it appeared Sands was starting to get a grip on things again, Cam walked into the kitchen and poured them both a good measure of tequila. Since Sands seemed to be out of limes he brought the drinks out as is and approached Sands, who was bending over with his hands covering his face.
“Sands, drink this. It’ll help to relax you,” Cam said as he sat next to him.
Sands lifted his head, readjusted his crooked sunglasses, sat back against the couch heavily and reached for the drink. Cam put it in his hand and watched as Sands took a long pull from the glass, ending it in a weary sigh. “Where’s a lime when you really need one?” Sands mumbled into his glass, and Cam allowed himself a slight smirk. Sands seemed to finally be getting back with it, at least to the point of coherence. ‘d**n, he scared the nuts out of me.’
As Sands finished his tequila, Cam finally asked, “Sands, what happened?”
“S.hit,” Sands swore, setting his now empty glass down in front of him on the coffee table. Cam waited for him to continue, but Sands didn’t elaborate any further.
“Care to expand on that thought? You sounded fine when I talked to you earlier. What the hell happened?”<br> Sands leaned back against the couch, shifted his weight and reached a hand into his pocket, coming up with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sands lit one up and took a drag before answering in his most nonchalant tone, “Nothing.”<br>
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Post by AgentScarlett on Nov 6, 2004 13:03:43 GMT -5
“Don’t give me that bulls.hit Jeff. You don’t make a habit of losing control… of anything, least of all yourself.”
He knew that being too kind to Sands would result in a bullet in the head or at least a shove out the door, actually probably both. “I know you too well.”<br> “I agree on that last statement.”<br> “Don’t start your s.hit with me. You can’t give me the brush off. You think I can’t tell what you’re trying to do?”<br> “Oh, and what’s that?” Sands asked nastily, his patience spent, as he took another puff of his cigarette and filtered the smoke slowly out through his nose.
“You’re trying to lock me out, push me away. You’ve always had a problem with people - oh you can manipulate them wonderfully - but you’ve always had a hard time connecting.”<br> “Wowza, listen to all that crap you can spout Doctor Phil,” Sands spat sarcastically as he started to get up, not wanting to hear anymore.
Cam quickly stopped him from getting up, and pushed him back into a seated position, determined to make Sands hear him out.
“You’ve always been like that to a certain extent, but I can’t for the life of me understand why you’ve completely given up on people. You’ve only gotten worse. Why? Is it because of what happened to…“
Sands interrupted him, furious, “Mention them and I’ll kill you, I swear I’ll…“
“No you won’t Jeff.”<br> “You do realize how irritating you are, don’t you? My trigger finger is just itching to shoot something, so don’t tempt me.”<br> “If you were going to shoot me you would have done it by now. Besides, you know I’m right.”<br> Sands smiled mercilessly. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”<br> “But I am.”<br> “F.uck you.”
“No, f.uck you, Jeff. Either you tell me what’s going on or I’m picking up that phone and calling OMS and telling them to come get you," Cam threatened. He knew it was an empty threat because, as tough as he was being with Sands now, he knew he couldn’t be responsible for Sands being committed to a sanitarium.
“Would you do that?” Sands asked, in a tone that betrayed nothing of what he felt.
“I just watched you have some sort of mental episode and go so far as try and kill yourself. You want to try me?”<br> Sands sat there for a long time, saying absolutely nothing as he smoked; his breathing seemed to be back to normal and his skin was a little less pale. Cam didn’t know what to think, but stayed silent, knowing he could really only push the man so far, and that he was already stretching his limits.
“Well, I suppose I’ll never get any peace until I tell you.”<br> Cam waited for Sands to continue.
“Congratulations Cam! I didn’t know you had it in you,” Sands sighed and stubbed out the last of his cigarette on the table.
“Director Douglas was kind enough to inform me that I am nothing but a throwaway to the Company.”<br> Cam closed his eyes and rubbed them tiredly.
‘That explains a lot.’<br> “What did he say?”<br> Sands thought back. The whole situation was beyond frustrating and he felt the urge for another cigarette; he didn’t deny the impulse and promptly lit another. So many things were pulling him apart. He used to have control of his life, yet now it seemed that he had lost that power.
‘That was before.’<br> Sands cleared his throat, “Just to give you the overall gist of the delightful convo I experienced earlier.... Douglas informed me that I’m a person of interest. I’m to consider myself a civilian until they delve further into the operation in Culiacan. Oh, and I’m not allowed to stray too far from home, either.”<br> Cam thought for a moment. “So… you’ve been suspended?”
“Congratulations, you win a plush toy.”<br> “But you haven’t been terminated from employment yet, there’s a possibility they’ll find your phone and prove that-“<br> “Doubtful Eric,” Sands interrupted, not realizing that he was starting to call Cam by his first name. Sands’ head still throbbed painfully, the result of having been taken off the major painkillers. He also suspected that he might have smacked his head at some point because one side of his face hurt like hell, and his sunglasses were biting into his skin.
“They found my cell.”<br> “Then… shouldn’t you be in the clear?” Cam asked, confused.
Sands laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. “Well that’s what I thought too. However, according to Douglas there is no record of my having ever called Martin.”<br> Cam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “But you did call him?”<br> ‘Did you call him?’<br> ‘Of course you did. You remember the conversations.’<br> ‘Maybe I’m losing my mind. Maybe I lost it a long time ago.’<br> ‘Only if you keep doubting your own sanity.’<br> ‘Then what could have happened?’<br> ‘What do you think f.uckmook? Someone’s trying to get rid of you.’<br> Sands nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, I called him,” He said aloud, and it served to convince himself as well as Cam.
‘I’ve been totally irrational about this whole situation.’<br> He’d made those calls, yes, of course he had. And d**n it, if the CIA couldn’t or wouldn’t find proof that he’d been burned by Officer Martin, well then he’d have to find it himself.
Without much warning, Sands felt a trickle of wetness slide down his cheek, coming from the side he’d hit. “Ah s.hit,” Sands said under his breath, and turning farther away from Cam, removed his sunglasses.
“What’s the matter Sands?” Cam asked, worried.
Sands brushed his fingers across his cheek and felt the all too familiar wet, sticky substance… blood.
‘Well that explains why I’ve got pain shooting through my skull.’<br> Sands replaced his sunglasses, stubbed out his second cigarette, and stood up, using the couch as support. As Sands started towards the bathroom he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder that quickly spun him around.
“What are… oh, Jesus, Sands.” Cam said as soon as he got a full view of Sands’ face, seeing the flow of blood running down his cheek. Before Sands even registered it, Cam had removed his sunglasses.
Sands reached out to snatch them back on reflex, but then, realizing what it must look like, stopped almost as quickly. He held out his right hand and demanded dangerously, “Give them back to me.”
Cam, realizing what he’d done, immediately handed them back.
“Don’t you ever do that again.” Turning around abruptly, Sands stalked to the bathroom without another word and closed the door.
As Cam heard the faucet run in the bathroom he returned to the couch and sat down, rubbing his face repeatedly in an effort to wake himself up. This day had turned out way more stressful and exhausting than he had ever imagined.
“You know,” Cam called out to Sands from the living room, “When you called about getting a little target practice in this afternoon this was not what I had in mind.”<br> After a couple moments of Cam’s attempts to lighten the mood, he heard Sands shout back, “Yeah, well next time I shoot my bolt I’ll be sure to let you know I plan on wigging out beforehand.”<br> After a few more minutes Sands came out of the bathroom, his face washed, his hair brushed and his sunglasses back in place. He looked much better, his color slowly returning along with his strength.
Sands’ returning strength echoed in his voice as he spoke to Cam in his distinct ‘I’m going to start some s.hit’ tone.
“Cam, there’s a mole in Mexico and the rat wants to off me, and I’ll be d**ned if I’m going to let him win.”
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Post by Mojave Dragonfly on Nov 14, 2004 15:26:01 GMT -5
You know, I really like Cam. And I'm really glad he isn't a woman.
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Post by mairimaih on Jan 12, 2005 22:02:53 GMT -5
yeah I am looking forward to reading more of this
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:45:36 GMT -5
Wow - My apologies for forgetting that I started posting this story here! But on a possitive note... it's catch-up time. Chapter 20: Savoir-faireCam watched Sands walk into the kitchen and grab a bag of chips off the counter. It amazed him how one minute Sands could be on the verge of suicide, and the next minute he could be talking to him as if none of it had ever happened. Cam knew that there was no way that Sands could be completely over it all so quickly, but Sands was a master at, among other things, hiding his humanity. “You still think Martin is the traitor?” Cam asked Sands as he returned from the kitchen, chips in hand. Sands shook his head. “He’s involved somehow. Now it’s just a matter of finding out exactly how deeply his rabbit hole goes, and who else is helping him dig it.”<br> “You don’t think it’s just him?”<br> “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. He doesn’t have the balls… and I don’t mean the snow kind. He’s either working with someone or for someone. It all comes down to who.”<br> Cam thought silently for a moment. He tended to agree with Sands. Martin was not a good field officer, which was the reason he sat behind a desk and ran things. However, he wasn’t even terribly good at doing that. For quite some time there’d been rumors to the effect that Martin was going to be replaced by another officer; there still were. As a matter of fact, now that Cam thought about it, Sands’ name had even been one of those mentioned as a possible replacement… at least, before the coup. “Sands, were you aware of the rumor floating around the Company that Martin was going to be replaced as supervisor?”<br> Sands eyebrows lifted, and his expression became one of mild curiosity. “Really?”<br> “You hadn’t heard?”<br> “No.” Sands said, putting on his bored façade. “I was a little too busy in Culiacan to stop and get all the latest scuttlebutt from you ladies. Besides, that’s probably just what it is. He hasn’t been replaced.” “Perhaps not. But it’s an awfully big coincidence that your name was tossed around as being one of those up for promotion, to replace Martin.”<br> Sands snapped his head around to face Cam, caught off guard by his words. “What?”<br> “I’m saying that there were those within the Company who believed you were going to replace him as supervisor. Now, I’m not the one sitting in this room with a Masters in Psychology, but it seems to me that it might make an awfully good motive, if Martin was corrupt enough.”<br> Sands smirked a little. “I take it you believe my story then.”<br> “Of course,” Cam said, without hesitation. For a minute there was silence. Sands thingyed his head slightly to the side and when he spoke it was with a casual air. “You know… I’m not to be trusted.”<br> “But I do trust you.”<br> Sands didn’t seem to know what to do with that admission, and shrugged as he crunched another chip. “Your funeral.”<br> Cam grabbed a handful of chips out of the large bag of Ruffles beside Sands before answering. “I’m not saying that I believe you didn’t cross the line in Mexico, Jeff. I know you’re a cowboy, as does the Company. I’m quite sure you took part in some less then honest dealings in Mexico to get your job done… probably even had something going on the side. Even so, I’ve known you since you started out and you’re no traitor to your country. You are a loyal officer, I’ll give you that.” Cam snacked on a chip before continuing. “I’m not naive enough to think that the Company isn’t aware of how some of its officers get the job done, and I definitely know you’re aware of it. I swear I may never understand why, and yes, I might be a total idiot for it… but I trust that what you’ve told me about this whole screwed up operation is the truth.”<br> “You trust me?” Sands repeated, more than a little surprised, but doing his best to hide it. “Yeah.”<br> Sands contemplated his words as he swallowed another chip, ‘He actually trusts me? How did that happen? How could I let that happen? More to the point, how could Cam let that happen?’<br> Sands couldn’t understand it, but in the end he decided his head was pounding far too much for him to think terribly hard about the fact. He surprised himself and Cam when he laughed an honest laugh, something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time. “And you think I’m crazy, Cam.”<br> “You are.”<br> Sands smiled properly for the first time since Cam arrived. “But who’s crazier? The crazy man or the man who trusts the crazy man?”<br> Cam answered laughing as well, “I’d really rather not answer that.” Sands’ smile remained, as he simply shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t figure Cam out. He couldn’t figure out why the man seemed to trust him, why he’d gone to all the trouble of pulling him out of Mexico that day, and d**n it, he couldn’t figure out what had possessed Cam to give him that gift in the hospital. That one really ate at him. ‘A gift? For Officer Sands? No, that just didn’t happen.’<br> It was f**king maddening really, because he didn’t think he was being any less of an not a very nice person than usual. ‘I still hold fast to the assumption that he’s trying to kill me with kindness.’<br> “I hate to ask this, Sands, as I’m sure I’m not going to like the answer, but what exactly are you planning on doing?”<br> Sands smirked and grabbed another handful of chips. “That, dear Cam, is for me to know and you to find out.”<br> “What, don’t you trust me?”<br> Sands raised an amused eyebrow; “I don’t trust anyone.”<br> Cam frowned a little and was about to say something when Sands continued. “However if I were to give a man my trust, you are most likely the man I’d deem trustworthy… which perhaps by default makes you worthy of my trust. However you may not be able to trust my trustworthiness so my trustworthiness I trust to you.”<br> “You want to try repeating that?”<br> “No.”<br> “You want to try telling me what you are going to do now?”<br> Sands gave a somewhat over-exaggerated groan of dismay before deciding to answer him. “If you absolutely must know, I plan on jet-setting to Mexico on the next available flight.”<br> “What? What for?” Cam asked, knowing very well that if Sands was under investigation he was probably confined to the state and his ‘jet-setting’ would not make the Company very happy. Sands shot Cam a “duh” expression, “For a friggin’ siesta under the baking Mexican sun. What do you think I’m going there for?”<br> “One can never tell with you, Sands.”<br> Sands smiled a bit at Cam’s words. “I feel it’s time to once again unleash my famous savoir-faire… Mexican-style, get decked out and kick some serious ass.”<br> “Sands, I don’t think that’s the best move…” “Well then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”<br>
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:46:52 GMT -5
“Jeff, how do you intend to find your way around and scout for information when you’re still not… adjusted?”<br> Sands jaw tightened and his voice became dark. Cam knew immediately that he’d just said something that put Sands in one of his instant bad moods. “I’ll do just fine,” Sands all but growled, but his mind was thinking just the opposite.
‘You know it’s true.’<br> “You’re pushing too hard and too fast Jeff. I’d hate to see that be your undoing.”<br> Sands stood up quickly, his temper flaring. He was sick of his own weakness getting in the way and that had to end, now.
‘f**k it; f**k it all to hell in a hand-basket.’<br> “I’m going, d**n it, and I’d sure love to see you try and stop me,” He sneered at Cam, showing the anger that he rarely let others see.
Sands didn’t care anymore if this was a good idea, a bad idea, or even a feasible idea. All that mattered was that it was an idea. He’d be a f**kmook if he just sat here on his ass waiting for the Company to nail his hide to the wall. It was time to show them all, from every son of a pregnant dog at the Company who’d betrayed him to every last asset in Mexico who’d abandoned him like rats leaving a sinking ship.
Just who did they think they were f**king with when they tried to burn Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands?
No one f**ked with him and got away with it. Sands was, as far as he was concerned, completely un-f**kable.
‘Wait, that doesn’t sound right… maybe I should revise that.’<br> ‘Yeah, needs to be more specific.’<br> Cam’s voice interrupted Sands’ thoughts. “I can’t stop you. But the CIA will. They’ll arrest you as soon as they find out you are out of the state, and knowing them it won’t take ’em too long to find out.”<br> Sands was standing beside Cam, angry and frustrated and seriously craving revenge. Yet still, deep down he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt that he owed Cam an explanation, and he sighed, feeling torn between his inner not a very nice person and his inner… well, he wouldn’t call it a conscience, he had lost that long ago. Still, whatever it was, it was in the way of his inner not a very nice person, and he really didn’t like that. However, in the end Sands found himself giving in to the side of him that usually remained deathly silent.
“Eric, you don’t seem to understand. The Company is going to arrest me either way. I can sit here defeated, and wait for them to do it, or I can go to Mexico and uncover all those little secrets Martin is keeping and possibly save what’s left of my career. Now, which do you think I’m going to choose?”<br> Cam closed his eyes in frustration as he realized that Sands was trying to level with him. Sands really was in quite a mess, and it was going to take a gigantic miracle to clear him if those within the Company had turned against him.
“But how the hell are you going to do it alone? For God sakes, you’re not the Lone Ranger, Jeff.”<br> “How do you know?”
‘He does have a point though.... Why don’t I ask Cam to come with me?’<br> ‘Whoa… wait… admit I need someone? Never.’<br> ‘Whoever said I needed him? Why don’t I use him like I use everyone?’<br> ‘Because he trusts me. Because he’s still here.’<br> ‘Vae. This is getting me nowhere.’<br> “What if…” Sands started, trying to think of the right way to say it. No matter how he tried to justify it to himself, what he was about to say, well, it really was against everything he stood for.
“What if… I was to ask you to be my partner, Officer Cameron?”<br> Cam sat there startled for a moment.
‘Did he just ask me to come with him?’<br> “Sands, I can’t go. I’m only in between assignments. Who knows when they’ll call me back for active duty; it could be anytime. Besides, if we were caught it would be the end of…” Cam stopped himself before he said it. God, it was selfish as hell, but he was thinking of his own career. And why not? Wouldn’t Sands do the same?
Perhaps it was just his guilt but Cam could swear there was a quick flash of hurt disappointment in Sands’ face before it was efficiently covered up by Sands’ familiar, indifferent stony mask. “Why don’t you finish Cam, or shall I? It would surely be the end of your illustrious and reputable career in the CIA.”<br> “It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”
“It’s fine, Cam,” Sands interrupted in a cool, yet calm tone. “You’re just looking out for number one, and believe me, that’s something I can relate to. Now get out of here. I’ve got nuts to do.”<br> “Sands, I-“<br> “Don’t bother to explain. You owe me no favors, so just get out of here and forget I asked,” Sands said, continuing in a tone way too casual for the situation. When he didn’t hear Cam leaving he continued, putting the bag of chips back in the kitchen, “I didn’t need you. I don’t need you. I’ve never needed anyone. Now I’m sure you have something waiting for you at the Company, Flash priority no doubt, so you’d better high tail it out of here.”<br> Feeling torn, Cam could only nod and mutter an unenthusiastic “yeah”, thinking that Sands had said the word ‘need’ one too many times for the words to be believable. Not knowing what to do, Cam wished Sands luck and was already walking out the door when Sands called out to him from the living room.
“Cam, you do realize what your next assignment for the Company is likely to be, do you not?”<br> Cam’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he stood there for a moment nonplussed.
Sands’ extended his arms in a sweeping gesture, his palms facing upwards. “Me, of course.” He paused for a beat and tilted his head. “If there is one thing I know, it’s how the Company works… so predictable, really. They’ll ask you to bring me down, because you’ve worked with me before, because you know where I’m going and why, and because the Company will believe that you know me better then any of the other officers.”<br> ‘Oh lord.’
Cam hadn’t thought of that. If that happened, that meant the next time they met, they could be enemies. He didn’t think he could take that.
Could he really take an assignment that would mean Sands’ demise, a demise dealt out by his own hand?
At Cam’s silence Sands dropped his arms and turned his back to Cam, but as he walked away he half turned his head and mumbled, seemingly against his will, “Non illigitamus carborundum.”<br> Of course Cam had no idea what it meant, and after a moment, a bit unwillingly, he let himself out of the apartment while Sands disappeared into his bedroom.
However, Sands knew what he’d said, and as he began tossing things around in his closet searching for his suitcase, it not only became something he’d said to Cam, for who knows what reason, but it became his own mantra as well. One that he repeated over and over and over in his mind as he tossed the empty suitcase on the bed and began chucking things in it haphazardly.
‘Non illigitamus carborundum. Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’<br>
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:49:39 GMT -5
Chapter 21: The Mind’s Eye
Sands had finished throwing a little bit of everything inside his medium-sized suitcase. He knew what articles of clothing he had, but had no idea which shirts and pants he had chosen from his somewhat large wardrobe, as he pulled things out of his drawers at random. After his frustrating packing session, he decided that he needed to make some necessary arrangements with an old acquaintance of his.
Luckily, Sands had used the man several times before and knew his number by heart. He was in need of the man’s talent to set up a flight that even the CIA wouldn’t know about… at least, not right away. Without the man, getting to Mexico in a decent amount of time would pose a problem. Driving was obviously out of the question. And he could hardly take an Air America flight to Mexico, at least not until he’d cleared himself. Any attempt to use public transportation would mean that his name would be flagged instantly. Setting up a false ID and passport that he hadn’t already used would waste too much time. He decided that going to his old… pal would be the best course of action.
After an extremely brief chat with the man, Sands had arranged for a flight to Mexico for the following morning. He was a little disappointed that it couldn’t be sooner, but his body was rather tired from his mind’s brief vacation from reality and he figured a night’s sleep probably wouldn’t hurt.
Wandering back into his bedroom, Sands shut his suitcase and set it on the floor as he traded places with it, now reclining on the bed. He lay down even as his mind continued to work at a hundred miles an hour.
‘Did I actually believe that Cam was going to risk losing his career to come with me? I can’t believe I was so stupid. Cam is about as straight-laced as a man gets, and he would never have thrown out the rulebook for me.'
Sands sighed as his head hit the pillow.
‘Not that it makes any difference to me.’<br> After all, he was a born killer.
What did he need a girl thingy like Cam for anyway?
In an attempt to get more comfortable Sands punched his pillow a couple times before he rolled over on his side, and was rewarded for his troubles when his sunglasses dug into his face. Grunting and realizing he was alone in the apartment, he took them off and set them on the nightstand.
It seemed odd to him, just how vulnerable he felt without them now.
To him, it was like being an injured animal caught in the gaze of a predator. With his sunglasses off his weakness was clearly visible to anyone who chose to look, and giving the predator such an advantage was not an option.
In his opinion, it was much more fun being predator than prey, and if anyone was going to be the prey, it was going to be those bastards at the Company that had betrayed him.
He had a plan. Well, he sort of had a rough idea of a plan. He supposed that that would have to do.
Somewhere though, in the back of his mind, was the nagging belief that everything he was doing now was in vain, and an evil little creature whispered in his ear.
‘It’s hopeless…’
As sketchy plans for his personal covert operation ran through his mind, his breathing became rhythmic and he found himself in a deep slumber before he’d even realized that he was falling asleep.
~*~
When Sands awoke again, he felt much better. Much, much better.
‘Better than what?’<br> Air filled his lungs as he breathed deeply, still lying on the bed. He stretched out his stiff arms, and froze in surprise when his right hand made contact with another body.
A body lying beside him on the bed.
That’s when it - she - spoke. The voice took his breath away, but he wasn’t sure why.
“Are you awake, Shelly?”<br> Sands tried to keep his smile hidden as he attempted an irritated voice. “You know, I hate it when you call me that.”<br> She laughed lightly, “I know. Call it sweet revenge.”<br> He allowed a light smile to show through as he remained lying lazily beside her. “And here I thought you dug my little nicknames for you, sugar-lips.” She rolled her eyes and his voice became serious. “Shelly is no way to start the day.”<br> She laughed again. He loved to hear the sound of it. She laughed so freely, so easily. It was something that he’d never been able to do, although she had helped him with that a little.
Her hand found its way to his chest. “Are you going to keep your eyes closed all day?” she asked, sounding amused.
Sands cracked open one eye and groaned unhappily as the light rushed in. “I think so, yeah.”<br> “Well, maybe you can stay here in bed all day Jeff, but I’ve got to go to work,” she said as her hand left his chest and she began to pull herself up, only to find two strong hands pulling her back into bed from behind.
“You can’t escape that easily, sugar-dumplin’,” Sands drawled as he pulled her down on top of him. He studied her in all her morning glory. She was his exact opposite. She wore a knee-length white satin nightgown and her long blonde hair was wild and un-brushed. She had fair skin and eerily light blue eyes that seemed to look right though a person.
Perhaps that was why she was the only person who ever understood him, the only person who could see past all the walls he’d built since he was a child and see him for who he really was.
He watched her as she smiled and leaned against him; the sun seemed to make her glow, and, even though he was happy, as he looked at her a feeling of sadness slowly crept up on him.
‘This will never last.’<br> She noticed the slight change in his face as his mood shifted, and immediately dropped her smile.
“What’s wrong Jeff?”<br> Sands pasted on a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, the feeling of loss remaining.
“Nothing sugar-love.”<br> “I don’t believe you.”<br> Sands decided to change tactics, so he smiled and gave her a playful glare. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he let out a small growl. Quickly he flipped their positions, so he was hovering above her.
She gave him a suspicious look. “You wouldn’t be trying to distract me from finding out what’s bothering you, would you?”<br> ‘d**n the woman for knowing me so well.’<br> Sands stroked her cheek gently. “Cecelia, it’s nothing.”
“No, it’s something. You’re different today. I see it in your eyes.”<br> Sands looked at her, disconcerted. He felt it too. The two of them together, it was so right, yet today it was so wrong at the same time. It wasn’t normally like this. He couldn’t explain why today was different, or why he felt different, he didn’t know.
Not knowing what to say, Sands made use of his fine command of language; he said nothing at all. Instead he leaned toward her and gingerly kissed her lips.
Pulling away slightly, he stared into her eyes, battling with his feelings. One side of him admitted that he loved her, but the other side refused to allow him to say so out loud.
‘Tell her. Tell her those words you’ve never been able to say. Tell her that you love her.’<br> He swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find those three words. Those three simple words that he knew he needed to say, and that she needed to hear. Every time he tried to catch those three words, they ran away from him like a thief in the night.
‘Now or never.’<br> He looked away from her intense gaze and his brow furrowed in frustration.
He couldn’t say those three simple words.
He knew how he felt about her, but had no idea what to do with the feelings. But then, neither of them was going anywhere. He had time… eventually… eventually he’d be able to tell her.
‘Now or never.’<br> Sands shook his head at the odd thoughts running through his mind and felt her cool hand under his chin, tilting his head up so he’d look at her. She smiled slightly; they’d been through this before.
“I know Jeff… I know. You don’t need to say it.”<br> He looked at her deeply, longing for his emotions to come through in his eyes as he softly spoke, “Imago animi vultus est, indices oculi.”
Her smile widened as she tugged him down closer to her. “Ah, my Latin lover has returned to me. Adsum.”<br> Sands ran a hand through her hair, brushing a strand out of her eyes. “Ex proprio motu?”
She looked at him, almost sadly, as if sorry that he couldn’t believe it for himself, as she nodded yes.
“Hic et nunc,” Cecelia smiled lazily as one of his hands glided gently down her neck and she sighed contently. “Et in aeternum.”
Sands could only stare at her and after a minute or so she shook her head slowly.
“Your eyes are different Shelly. They hold less hope within them. You’re not the man I married, today.”<br> Sands nodded. “I feel it too, but I don’t understand it,” he finally admitted.
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:51:04 GMT -5
She looked at him for another moment as he caressed her softly, and he noticed immediately when her body tensed suddenly beneath his touch and her eyes widened in… what was it? Shock or horror?
“What is it sugar-sweet?” he asked, as she stared at him and then looked down at her chest. His eyes followed hers, and he gasped at the sight of the red blood pooling and soaking into the white fabric of her nightgown. Sands looked back up at her in horror.
“Oh God, what happened?” he asked, willing himself not to panic. He looked back down to try and find her injury, but then realized that the blood was pooling on the top of her nightgown, it wasn’t coming from her.
That’s when he felt it.
He looked at her again, and she began to scream. He quickly moved himself away from her, and off the bed.
The blood. There was so much blood, and it was rolling down his cheeks in waves.
His eyes were bleeding.
Cecelia had stopped screaming and tried to choke back tears as she got up off the bed. “Jeff… I’ll… I’ll call f… for help,” she stuttered, as she moved to the phone and dialed 911. Sands vaguely heard her speaking to someone as he turned towards the mirror in their bedroom. His breath caught in his throat as he saw all the blood that ran down his face, onto his clothes, forming a bloody pool beneath him.
‘Now I know why this whole morning feels so wrong,’ he thought as he walked slowly towards the mirror, watching as the blood flowed down and his eyes turned from their usual bright brown to a coal black.
‘This isn’t even possible. I couldn’t be here with her, now.’<br> ‘It isn’t possible.’<br> ‘And even if by some miracle it was… I wouldn’t be able to see her. That isn’t possible either.’<br> ‘This is a dream.’<br> He turned back around to see her still desperately trying to explain the impossible situation to a 911 operator.
‘I just want to see her.’<br> More desperately than before he turned back towards the mirror, and shut his eyes tight, pressing the heels of his hands against them in a hopeless attempt to stop the blood from flowing.
He wouldn’t be able to see her anymore if he lost his eyes.
He couldn’t take losing her again. He couldn’t take losing his sight again.
But the blood still flowed and now he was completely covered in it. He opened his eyes again, and watched in the mirror as they seemed to suddenly lose their fire and die, becoming gray and lifeless.
“No, no, no!” Sands whispered desperately and his stomach turned as he watched his eyes begin to bubble and melt.
“No, not again. Not again!” he pleaded to everything and nothing in particular. His eyes ran out of his sockets and down his face, sticky and hot, and he gagged. This was worse than the first time, because he could see it. He could see it all happening, even as his eyes melted away he could see as if they were still there. This horrible nightmare was allowing him to see himself as he was now, as he must appear to others. Those horrible dark sockets that held nothing – no life, no fire, no feeling, no soul. He couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t look at it any longer. His breathing hitched and his heart thudded in his chest as he covered his face with his hands.
He didn’t know how long he’d stood like that, but when he felt her hands on his he cringed and tried to pull away.
‘She can’t see me like this.’<br> “Look at me, Shelly,” she demanded, but he shook his head and kept his hands over his face.
“I can’t.”<br> She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. “Your eyes are not responsible when your mind does the seeing.” She pried his hands away from his face and forced his head up. The blood had stopped flowing now, and it clung to his face like tears. She looked at him sadly as she pushed some of his hair behind his ear.
“Now you see what I’ve become,” he said in a whisper.
“And what do you think that is?”<br> He could still see her, and he was no longer sure if he was grateful for that or not.
“Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as she cupped his face in her hands and moved closer to him, their bodies touching. "No, Shelly,” she told him, in hushed tones. “You could never be that. Non illigitamus carborundum.” Her arms gently wrapped around his body and they melded into a forgotten embrace. “Can you really tell me that you’ve never seen beauty in this life?”<br> Sands started to pull back, confused by the unusual question, but she held him in place with gentle firmness. He let out a soft sigh; “The only beauty I’ve ever known in life was you.”<br> She smiled regretfully as her head rested on his shoulder, and they stood there holding each other. “I’ve heard it said Shelly, that no eyes that have seen beauty can ever lose their sight.”
He said nothing, only held onto her a little tighter. She pulled away from him just enough to see his face; she stared at him as if she could still see his eyes, and her own became moist. “You’ve changed so much, been through so much, and you will go through so much more. Stay strong. You were always my strength, now let me be yours.”
He began to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips and he stopped before he began.
“I know. You’ve never needed anyone.” She leaned into him, her lips brushing against his as she spoke again in a voice so soft he was unsure it was even there. “So don’t need me… just remember me.” Their lips pressed together and each opened to the will of the other, and the kiss was long and deep, desperate and hopeful, loving and lustful.
Then everything turned to black, and her touch disappeared and he knew that he had woken from a dream. He didn’t move at first, not knowing where the dream had come from. Never had he had a dream like the one he’d just had. It had been so completely vivid, the colors so clear and sharp, it was still fresh in his mind.
‘Cecelia… I haven’t thought of her in a long time.’
He’d tried to forget her.
‘...remember me.’<br> A single tear slid down his cheek and he brushed it away so quickly that anyone observing would most likely have missed it. He was vaguely surprised that he could even cry at all. There was only one other time that Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands had cried, in rage and sadness, and that was the day he’d lost what small hope he had in the world and in others. The day his family had left him, the day that she’d left him.
‘d**n Cam for mentioning them – her - today.’<br> “nuts, what is wrong with me?” Sands muttered, as he sat up quickly. First he’d lost his hold on reality when he was awake, and now again, when he was asleep.
He reached in his pocket for a cigarette and lit it hastily as he went over the dream again. It had been wonderful and horrible at the same time. He smirked slightly as he remembered what she’d said.
‘Non illigitamus carborundum. Stay strong.’<br> He chuckled a little, as he figured out why he’d said that phrase to Cam, seemingly against his own will. She had said it, and Cam had brought him the memory of her.
He took a long drag of his cigarette as his smirk turned into a grin.
He wasn’t going to let her down.
He got up with a new resolve and moved toward the closet that held his weaponry.
Officer Sands had some guns to shoot, disguises to wear, and slow-roasted pork to eat, and those bastards weren’t going to grind him down.
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Latin Translations
Imago animi vultus est, indices oculi. - The countenance is the portrait of the soul, and the eyes mark its intentions.
Adsum. - I am here.
Ex proprio motu? – Voluntarily?
Hic et nunc - Here and now
Et in aeternum. - And for eternity.
Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum. - A monster frightful, formless, imm
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:52:40 GMT -5
Chapter 22: Heat
Sands stood outside the small airport waiting for his driver. It was a typically hot day in Mexico, with a slight breeze that did nothing to take the edge off the heat. He stood silently by his suitcases wearing blue jeans, sunglasses and a red shirt that read “Cereal Killer” with a picture of a sthingy underneath the text.
He thought about his somewhat flawed plan… however, it could work. Sure, everything was against him, but since when did Officer Sands turn down a good challenge?
After a few minutes of waiting Sands heard a car pull up in front of him and a man get out and walk towards him.
“Mr. Wayne?” the man asked.
He had no accent, so he obviously hadn’t been raised in Mexico. Sands’ contact, Tom, had assured him that the man was trustworthy, and good at keeping things clandestine. Sands trusted his contact implicitly, having used him more times than he could count, and so he trusted this man as well. Of course, if this person aroused his suspicion in any way… that opinion could and would change in an instant.
“Yup,” Sands replied as he picked up the smaller of his two bags. He heard the driver pick up his other suitcase and toss it in the back of the car. Sands settled himself in the front passenger seat and placed the black bag underneath his legs.
As the driver started up the car Sands dug in his pocket for a cigarette and lighter and quickly lit up. It took all of two seconds for the driver to notice.
“Hey, no smoking in my car.”<br> Sands ignored him as he exhaled a large amount of smoke into the cab of the car. “Want me to roll down a window?” he asked casually as he felt the car start to move forward.
“No, I’d like you to put it out. I’ll never get….”<br> “I think for ten thousand dollars you can buy an air freshener once you’ve completed this assignment and still have a little fun money left over,” Sands interrupted, before taking another drag and rolling down his passenger window. Sands smiled in the man’s direction as the arid heat poured into the car.
“f**k.” He heard the driver mutter under his breath, in a voice so low that most normal people wouldn’t have heard it. However, with the removal of sight from his roster of vital senses, Sands’ hearing was significantly heightened and he heard it quite clearly.
“I know you’d like to, but I’m a little too busy right now.”
The driver’s head snapped around towards Sands and his eyes narrowed at the CIA officer sitting beside him. Sands went on in a light tone and with a completely serious face.
“Work first, play later, as the saying goes. I never mix business with pleasure.”<br> ‘This is going to be the most difficult ten thousand dollars he’s ever earned.’<br> The driver grumbled, but said no more about the matter, instead asking, “So, we going straight to the hotel?” He glanced briefly at Sands for confirmation.
“No. No need for me to piddle-thingy around this dustbowl of a country any longer than necessary. Tom give you the list of addresses and cities that I asked him to?”<br> “Yeah, they’re in the glove compartment in front of you.”<br> Sands raised his eyebrows as he took a puff, making no move to retrieve the list from the compartment. The driver didn’t know it, but he wouldn’t have been able to differentiate the directions from any other piece of paper in there, and he didn’t much feel like explaining his situation at the moment.
After about a minute he heard the man groan and reach in front of him, opening the glove compartment and retrieving the directions.
“Are you going to give me this much nuts the entire time you’re here?”<br> “Probably,” Sands replied shortly as he flicked his used cigarette out the car window and bent down to open the bag at his feet. “Head to Agent Ramirez’s lovely abode.”<br> “I’m calling Tom and demand he double my pay,” the driver continued to gripe as he glanced at the address.
Sands chuckled at the man as he unzipped the bag. “Tom should have warned you about me… and you shouldn’t have pissed him off.”<br> The man frowned as he came to a stop at a red light and turned to face Sands. “He did warn me about you. Said you were a bad ass, murdering, psychotic with no conscience, who enjoys playing mind games.” Sands laughed out loud as he dug in his bag.
‘That’s Tom for you, giving it to ‘em straight.’<br> “My kind and giving reputation precedes me.”<br> The driver ignored the comment and went on, “What makes you think I pissed him off?”<br> “Because you’re here with me, amigo.”<br> “So?”<br> “Sooo…” Sands drawled as he brought up an automatic and a couple clips, “…if you weren’t privy, Tom only sends me people that he’d like me to torment. His demented idea of punishment for small infractions.” Sands smirked and snapped the clip into the gun. “Tom has such a twisted sense of humor. A man after my own heart.”<br> A car honked from behind them and Sands jerked a thumb towards the front window, “Light’s green Kemo Sabe.”
The driver stepped on the gas and Sands continued to arm himself with various implements of destruction as they neared Ramirez’s home. As luck would have it, it was only about a half hour’s drive from the airport. “So what’s your name Tonto, or do I have to keep making up names for you?” Sands asked finally.
“Jackson Hoff.”<br> Sands snickered at the pronunciation of the last name with the combination of the first.
“Jack Hoff? Jesus, and I thought my name was bad.”<br> Jackson looked over curiously. “Which is?”<br> Sands smiled as he pulled his hair up into a ponytail. “That’s dangerous territory Hoff. Best beware of the no trespassing sign.” Snapping the hair tie tight he started digging in his pants pocket. He quickly popped a couple of Aspirin, feeling his recurring headache returning. “What’s our ETA?”<br> “About 10 minutes.”<br> Sands reclined in his seat. He planned on persuading Ramirez that it was in his best interests to help with a little covert CIA operation, as well as adding supporting testimony to the evidence they would find during said operation. Ramirez wasn’t stupid, and Sands knew he would take some convincing, but eventually Ramirez would cave in. He always did.
A short while later Sands felt the car pull over and come to a stop.
“We’re here.”<br> Sands sat up straighter and gave an abrupt nod. He tucked one gun in his belt and held on to another, waving it in the driver’s direction. “You’re with me.”<br> “What? Whoa, no way! I agreed to be your escort and help with traveling; I didn’t agree to become your personal soldier. And I can’t shoot worth nuts.”<br> “Well that’s a drag. But lucky for you Tito, I can shoot, and I’m not asking you to do anything more than lead.”<br> “Lead?!”<br> “Yeah, you know. Lead the way…” Sands said as he opened his car door and stepped out, “…and absorb the first wave of bullets.”<br> “Hell no! I’m not…” Jackson’s eyes widened, silenced by Sands gun pointing towards his head.
“Get out.” Sands said slowly and calmly.
Jackson complied, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. “not a very nice person. You don’t even need me.”<br> Sands walked around the car, one hand gliding along the top of the hot metal surface as he did so. Coming up just beside Jackson he lowered his gun.
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:53:34 GMT -5
“No, I don’t need you,” Sands replied with a shrug.
‘I know, you don’t need anyone.’<br> “However Jackson, you can make things easier for yours truly. Now let’s stop beating around the bush, if you’d show me the way then I’d be much obliged.”<br> Jackson pointed to the house angrily. “See where I’m pointing? The big house on the corner over there? I think you can manage.”<br> “No I can’t see it and it’s true that I can manage without you, but the only thing that will be accomplished by you not coming with me is time being wasted,” Sands replied, growing frustrated. He pushed the other man in the shoulder. “Now let’s vamoose.”<br> Jackson caught his balance and slowly turned, starting to walk towards the house, still a bit shocked.
‘He can’t see it?’<br> Jackson stuttered a bit as he asked, “So that’s why you needed a driver, you’re… blind?”<br> “How very astute of you.”<br> “Tom didn’t tell me.”<br> Sands followed the sound of Jackson’s footsteps; “The knowledge is strictly on a need to know basis Jackie, and Tom didn’t need to know. Now let’s keep it that way.”<br> “A blind CIA officer, now I’ve seen everything. I’m definitely asking for a pay raise.”<br> Sands smirked as they came to a stop at the front door. “Probably not a bad idea. This job can be detrimental to your health… but if it makes you feel any better, there’s only a slight chance of you being riddled with bullets.” Sands nodded his head in the direction they had been walking.
“Door?”<br> “Yeah,” Jackson said as he let Sands step in front of him and knock on the door, “but for some reason that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Can’t imagine why not. Doesn’t seem to be any answer. Is there a car in the driveway?” Sands asked as he knocked again and Jackson finally took a good look around.
“No, as a matter of fact it looks a little deserted.”<br> ‘Oh, this is just dandy,’ Sands thought to himself with a frown as he knocked on the door one last time. If Ramirez had up and moved it was going to put a little bit of a kink in his wonderfully grand plan. Sighing Sands pulled something that looked like a small pocketknife out of his pocket and flipped out a long, slightly curved pick-like object. After finding the doorknob he inserted the pick and quickly maneuvered it until he heard a satisfying click. Grasping the doorknob, he opened the door and walked in, hearing Jackson follow closely behind him.
“I take it you’ve done that before?” he commented wryly as Sands walked around the first room, one hand trailing against the wall. He was walking on a hard floor, most likely wood he noted, as he listened to the sound of a slight echo accompanying his footsteps.
“It’s empty,” Sands stated out loud to himself, and heard the emptiness reply back in that same echo.
“Yeah, looks like this Ramirez guy moved.”<br> “Vae!” Sands took his hand off the wall, walked towards what he imagined was the center of the room, and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He was down to half a pack and would have to buy more soon.
He lit the cigarette and placed it in his mouth as he tucked the gun he was holding into his belt with the other hand. “Then he won’t mind if I smoke.”<br> Jackson shook his head at the officer before him as he walked further into the small house and entered the empty kitchen. Sands followed him and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. He heard cabinets being opened and closed and Jackson muttered something about being starved.
Sands thingyed his head. “Don’t bother looking in the cupboard Mother Hubbard, its bare,” he drawled.
Other than transportation this guy wasn’t going to be much help at all, and he briefly found himself wishing that Cam had found some guts and come with him.
‘Like that’s going to happen.’<br> After a few more minutes of pointless searching for crumbs, Sands grew impatient.
“Could you stop with the cabinet raid and go glance into each room and see if there is anything that he might have left behind?”<br> “Uh, sure.”
Jackson slid past Sands and hurried down what sounded like a hallway, opening doors and looking inside. Hearing the footsteps fade, Sands quickly took off his sunglasses and wiped his forehead on his shirtsleeve. It was hot as hell, and his body was already starting to protest from all the traveling and movement after so much time inactive in a hospital bed. His head was still pounding as he waited for the measly over-the-counter painkillers to kick in. Hearing footsteps approaching, Sands hastily put his sunglasses back on as he reentered the first room. He heard Jackson come to a stop beside him, and Sands took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking the stub onto the floor.
“So, find anything of interest?” he asked at Jackson’s silence.
He heard Jackson shout back, “No,” from another room down the hall and immediately bristled, trying to put some distance between himself and whoever was standing beside him as he reached for one of his guns. Unfortunately the man beside him swiftly caught both of Sands’ hands and wrenched them behind his back painfully.
“Indeed, I have.”
An unfamiliar male voice responded besides Sands’ ear and Sands cursed his own name.
‘d**n it! d**n it and d**n myself for being caught unprepared again.’<br>
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:55:39 GMT -5
Chapter 23: Useless
Sands groaned inwardly but he kept his cool. The man pulled Sands backward slightly as his grip on Sands’ wrists tightened.
"Officer Sands I presume?" the man asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer.
Sands swallowed his fears as his cool façade remained intact, truly his greatest weapon. "You know what they say about presumptions. They can be dangerous. I’m Agent Doe, John Doe. At your service."
The other man laughed lightly. Sands felt one hand leave hold of his wrists, loosening the grip a good deal. However, the tight pressure was quickly replaced by cold metal pricking the flesh on Sands’ neck.
‘d**n, how I hate Mexico,’ Sands thought to himself.
"I’ve certainly heard a great deal about you Officer Sands. Or is it just Sands now? You know, when they sent me here to look for you I really hadn’t expected to find you. I thought there was no way a man with your reputation would have been stupid enough to come to such an obvious place. Guess you’re slipping Sands."
Sands felt a rush of anger rising in him but struggled to hold it in check. After all, such anger would be of great use, if used at the proper time. Sands’ face remained neutral, showing no human emotions to his captor… whoever he might be.
‘Where the hell is Jackson?’ Sands thought. He could use some sort of distraction. Such a moment, no matter how brief, would give him the edge he needed.
‘Well, I suppose if I want something done right, I’ll have to do it myself.’<br> "Well you know, Slick, I guess I underestimated those nitwits at the Company for once. I should have figured they’d get lucky eventually. I mean it’s all in the mathematics." Sands paused a minute and twisted his head towards the man, ignoring the knife blade at his neck as he smiled brazenly before continuing. "Guess I shouldn’t have had that third tequila while calculating my plan. But let that be a lesson to us all… never drink and derive."
"You really are a crazy bastard Sands. Now enough with this crap, I’m to take you back to the States immediately… you have some explaining to do." The man shoved Sands forward suddenly and he stumbled slightly, but quickly regained his balance and pushed all his weight in the opposite direction to the one that the officer wanted them to go, bringing them both to a halt. The man behind him sighed irritably.
"Now I don’t know if I want to do that. It doesn’t sound too groovy," Sands quipped lightly.
The other officer was growing impatient, he could tell, and it was a good way to draw weakness out of an enemy. This Sands knew well.
"You’ve got two choices Sands. They want you back in the States, dead or alive, by tomorrow morning. Either you come with me, or I kill you and take your body. Now which is it going to be?" He spun Sands around to face him and stepped closer, still with one arm holding Sands’ hands and the other holding his throat hostage. Sands pretended to think about the choices for a moment before finally concluding, "Those choices of yours just aren’t jiving with me, Slick. How ‘bout we compromise?"
The man growled and pressed the knife into Sands’ throat, drawing a small trickle of blood from the new wound. Sands didn’t react to the pressure; instead he raised his dark eyebrows and drawled, "Ya know, you should be careful with that. An inexperienced officer like yourself… you could poke someone’s eye out with that thing." Sands baited him, hoping his fat ten-pounder would chomp down on it hard.
The other officer grinned despite the insults. "Well, well… there’s an idea," He said snidely as he raised the knife and pulled off Sands’ sunglasses, intending to move his threats upward. But the officer didn’t expect what he found instead.
It was exactly what Sands had wanted.
He quickly took advantage of the man’s shock as he kneed him in the groin… hard. The officer doubled over in pain and let go of his grip on Sands, completely caught off guard.
"Too late. It’s already been done."
Sands followed his first dirty move with another, kneeing the doubled-over officer in the face. He heard a crunch as his knee met the man’s nose, and his would-be assailant crumpled to the floor unconscious.
Sands bent over and swiftly found the knife the other man had dropped while he was busy worrying about the intense pain in his lower regions. Grasping the knife Sands stood and took a couple steps until the toe of his boot touched the body lying on the floor. Kneeling down he cleared his throat as his hands searched for the sunglasses the officer had taken. He quickly located them. Sliding them back on his face he returned his hands to the body on the floor, letting them do his seeing. The man was stocky, and about his height. He was fairly certain he’d never met him before; he certainly hadn’t recognized the voice. Sands relieved the unconscious man of two more firearms before standing up briskly and calling out in a voice that could freeze water, "Jackson, you f**king squid, get your sliI disagree in here or you’ll be my next meal."
Sands was not in a good mood, to say the least. He heard a muffled, "Huh?" from what seemed to be quite a way off and after about a minute Jackson reentered the living room, finding a coldly furious Sands standing in its center. It was an expression Jackson was sure only Sands could manage to wear. Jackson eyed him warily as he took a couple steps into the room.
"What’s your problem now? You asked me to…" Jackson trailed off, ceasing to speak as he caught sight of the unconscious man lying on the floor. "What the hell happened here?"
"What the hell happened to you?" Sands threw back as he approached Jackson, his suspicious nature suddenly returning.
‘What if Jackson’s in on it?’<br> Sands wasn’t sure anymore about the man’s trustworthiness. He thought it highly unlikely he had anything to do with it, but still, he would have to be even more alert after this.
"What do you mean? You asked me to look around the house. That’s what I was doing."
"You mean to tell me that the last five minutes you’ve been scurrying around this house and didn’t hear a d**n thing?" Sands stopped in front of Jackson, a couple steps away and Jackson took an involuntary step back.
Now Jackson saw what Tom was talking about when he described Sands. Now… now he understood.
"I… I was in the basement, there’s no electricity down there… it’s dark. Made it hard to search. I swear, I didn’t hear anything," he said nervously, uncertain how psychotic Sands really was and what he was capable of.
Sands weighed Jackson’s voice carefully, and put it together with the rest of his short experience of the man. Sands tilted his head, looking for all the world as if he was studying Jackson with intense interest.
"Really, I didn’t hear a thing."
Sands heard Jackson shift his weight from one foot to the other, heard him take another step away from him, heard the shake in his voice when he answered.
Jackson was lying.
No, he hadn’t been part of a setup.
But yes, he had heard something.
Jackson had just failed to come up and check things out.
Coward.
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 11:57:16 GMT -5
It was Sands’ theory, one he decided to test. He raised the gun, and pointed it at Jackson’s head. "What good is it if a blind officer has a deaf partner, eh?" Sands asked, as if it was of no importance at all. He shrugged his shoulders and thingyed the gun he’d just taken from the officer lying on the floor.
Jackson eyed the gun in fear and took another step back.
"Please, no! Don’t shoot me, please. I’m just your driver. I’m not used to this stuff…"
Sands held the gun steady as Jackson begged a bit, before smirking mischievously and returning the gun to his side. "That yellow streak down your back is the size of the Grand Canyon, Jackson."
Sands turned around and walked back to the man lying on the floor. He couldn’t understand why Tom had sent him Jackson, unless he thought the man had potential and just felt the needed to send him on the toughest assignment in town. Still, Sands had little faith left in Jackson Hoff. He tossed the unfamiliar gun he still held to the floor, out of the fallen man’s reach.
The man was starting to wake up and Sands knelt down beside him, the man’s own knife in his hand. Sands undid his belt buckle and slipped the belt from his waist in one quick motion. He used it to tie the officer’s hands tightly, giving it one last hard yank for good measure, then leaned back a bit, waiting as the officer came to.
A lit cigarette was soon dangling from Sands mouth, while the other officer realized his hands were bound. The man started to protest, and tried to get up, but was stilled by the cold metal of his own knife against his own throat.
"I don’t know what makes you dumb Officer, but it really seems to work," Sands drawled as he held the knife steady.
The officer’s voice cracked a bit as he replied, making Sands smile at the obviously weakened man. "You’re insane Sands."
Sands heard Jackson edge a little further into the room as he replied.
"If you want to be the best, you must lose your mind," Sands said, stressing the last three words in particular.
The man coughed and started to move, but Sands dug the knife in a little deeper, sure he must be drawing blood by now.
"You think the Company is going to find you useful the way you are now, Sands? f**king forget it. They don’t care about you. You’re gone. You’re history. You’re nothing to them anymore!"
Sands jaw set firmly at the man’s words, rage coming to the surface fast, as his mind sped around in circles.
‘Don’t let him get under your skin. Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t…’
But it didn’t matter how much he tried to rein it in. Those words struck a chord in him, deep and hurtful. They were his fears voiced out loud, by someone who didn’t even f**king know him and who was at this very moment at his mercy.
"Ab absurdo."
The knife left the man’s throat. It rose above the wide-eyed officer and was quickly brought down hard, sinking into the man’s thigh. Sands twisted the blade, to ensure a nasty wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding easily, before yanking it back out. Hearing a satisfying scream of pain from the man Sands leaned in close to him and whispered, "I seem to be more useful than you are."
Sands sat up a little and held the bloody blade in front of his face, as if inspecting it. "You know, you really could poke someone’s eye out with this thing." Sands smiled wickedly. "However, out of the two of us, only one of us can be used to test the theory."
"You’re a f**king lunatic. You do know that, right?"
Sands wiped the blood off the knife blade onto the officer’s pants. "Well you know the saying, there’s no brilliance without a hint of madness. Now, tell me who sent you."
"The f**kin’ CIA. Who do you think?" The officer spat, as if Sands was a complete idiot.
Sands shook his head slowly.
"No, no, no, no, no, Mr. Officer, Sir," Sands said mockingly, "Who. As in what person, what individual, what superior, what hell spawn, what man or woman, what demented toad told you to come here and bring me back to the States dead or alive?" Sands ticked off the options in his creepily calm voice, tapping the officer on the chest with the knife blade as he did so.
At the man’s silence, Sands pulled away from him a bit. "Alrighty then, let me take a stab at it… oh, sorry. No pun intended of course. Officer Martin, perhaps?" Sands paused a moment, but the man stayed silent and Sands raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Am I right, or am I right?" At the man’s continued silence Sands smiled, knowing he’d hit home. "Of course I’m right." Sands said as he stood up and threw the knife into the ground, burying its blade deep into the wood floor out of the other officer’s reach.
Sands turned back towards the officer on the floor.
"Now, I’d love to stay here and kill you, but I’ve really got to skedaddle. I’m sure you understand. Absum," Sands said as he stood above the other officer, flicking his cigarette ash on top of him.
"Jackson, shall we?" Sands asked politely as he moved away. "Move from that spot officer and…" Sands positioned his hand as if holding a gun, then pulled the imaginary trigger. His real guns remained tucked away, though still within easy reach. "Bang, bang."
Turning around, Sands followed Jackson’s lead to the door, and sure enough, he heard the officer trying to get up just as he reached the threshold. Sands spun around on his heel, pulled out one of his guns, aimed and pulled the trigger. Not thinking twice about the man as he hit the floor again, Sands turned back around and left the house, making sure to shut the door firmly behind him.
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Latin Translations
Ab absurdo. - From the absurd.
Absum -I’m outta here.
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 12:00:23 GMT -5
Chapter 24: Guitar Town
Sands and Jackson returned to the car in very different states. Sands was calm, collected and had an even more thingyy air then he had before he entered the house. Jackson, on the other hand, was in a state of shock; at least that’s what he decided to call it. He’d just watched this officer kill a man in cold blood. When Sands had shot him, the other officer hadn’t even really been a threat. Jackson started up the car mechanically, saying nothing as Sands sat down in the passenger seat and shut the door, snapping Jackson out of his zombie mode.
"Jesus, Sands, you just killed that man!"
"Yeah, ain’t it cool?" Sands smiled.
"You shot him!"
Sands head shifted in his direction and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Your point?"
Jackson blinked a couple times. "My point is that you just murdered a man," Jackson said, stressing the last part of the sentence in a slightly hysterical way.
Sands adopted a pained expression and rubbed his temples. "nuts, we still have any undamaged windows in this car? I’m pretty sure your voice just reached a level that could shatter glass."
"How can you just sit there and be so calm about this?" Jackson kept on, only toning his voice down slightly.
"You know, people like you are the reason people like myself need medication," Sands drawled, as the thought of popping four more Aspirins entered his mind, but his face quickly hardened and he pointed forward.
"Drive."
His voice left no room for argument. Jackson pulled away from the curb and started down the road slowly.
"You could go to jail for life for what you just did back there."
Sands barked out a laugh. "What I did back there was nothing Kemo Sabi. I could get the gas chamber for what I’ve done while in the CIA’s employ." Jackson’s eyes widened and Sands continued coolly, "You know why I haven’t?"
Jackson shook his head, but realizing it was pointless, made an effort to find his voice for a brief word. "No."
Sands smiled as he set the gun he’d been holding back in the black bag at his feet and answered in a voice that implied Jackson was stupid for not knowing the answer.
"Because I’m in the CIA’s employ."
"What?"
Sands sighed and leaned back. "Few great men would have gotten past personnel, Jackson. The Company looks for those with the potential to kill, and cultivates it as we’re trained. Not all mind you, but many of us have little conscience when it comes down to how we accomplish our missions. Make no mistake Jackie; the Company doesn’t produce good human beings. They produce machines. Machines that are fit for their purpose. Those who will do whatever is necessary… lie, cheat, steal, kill… give up anything for the mission… their life, their family, their sight…. all in the name of the wonderful US of A."
Jackson gulped, sure he wasn’t imagining the bitterness that had managed to taint Sands voice ever so slightly. "I never heard it put like that."
"You think that many people know that? Realize that?"
"I suspect not."
"Well you’d suspect right. Most who are in the Company’s employ don’t even realize how they’re being used."
Jackson decided to say something rather bold, seeing how Sands was speaking to him in such an earnest way. Something he still didn’t really understand. "Did you?"
Sands sat there, a little off balance from the question, but said nothing as he turned his head towards the passenger window as if he were watching the sparse scenery go by. The silence turned to tension very quickly and Sands seemed to cut the conversation off abruptly. After a minute or so Sands broke the silence.
"Head for Guitar Town. Paracho."
"Paracho? That’s a good day’s drive at least."
Sands turned back towards him smirking, "A day? Not if I were driving amigo."
"If you were driving we wouldn’t make it out of Culiacan."
Sands smirk faltered ever so slightly, but he kept it plastered on for the sake of appearances. Shooting the rather idiotic officer back at Ramirez’s old home had felt good. It had been entirely too long. The rush, the thrill, the power… it had felt too d**n good to pass up. Still, Jackson’s naïve way of thinking was eating into him and it was making him uncomfortable. "You know Tito, there was a time not so long ago when I would have run you over with my Camaro just for the fun of it. For no reason at all, other than the sake of killing, to satisfy my own twisted sense of humor."
Jackson looked at Sands curiously, "And you’re saying you wouldn’t now?"
Sands shifted in his seat a bit, as if uncomfortable. "On the contrary, if I were to get behind the wheel now I would probably run you over without even realizing it… and yes, I would probably find it hilarious once I did realize. However you needn’t worry too much Jackie, if that’s what you’re doing. Offing you would put me in a rather awkward position, because at the moment you are of use to me. Besides, Tom probably wouldn’t appreciate me killing you…" Sands paused for a minute as if thinking before continuing, "But then again, maybe he would. Maybe that’s why he sent me you. He had to have known you were far too green for someone like myself."
Sands took his hair out of its ponytail and placed all but one gun back in his bag. After a few minutes Jackson asked, "So, why are we going to Paracho?"
"There is a Mariachi in Guitar Town that most assuredly owes me for his betrayal, and I intend to collect on that debt."
Sands reclined his seat, intending to snooze a bit on the boring drive. He knew El would be in Paracho. It was where he had found him before and it was the only home El had. Sands hadn’t actually planned on finding El, but since Ramirez was gone, and he didn’t have the time to search him out, El would have to do. Actually, the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea.
~*~
It was a full day’s drive, as Jackson had said, driving straight through with only one short stop for drinks and a restroom break. Sands had said little during the drive, and Jackson could never tell when he was asleep or awake, something he didn’t like at all. This was one of those times.
"Sands? Sands?"
Sands was reclining in his seat as he sighed irritably. "That’s my name, don’t wear it out."
"We’re about fifteen minutes away from Paracho."
Sands immediately straightened up, bringing his seat back to an upright position. "Cool beans."
Jackson moved uncomfortably in his seat. His legs felt like jelly. He hated driving straight through without being able to trade off with someone else. Questions had been cycling though his mind since they’d left Culiacan, and he finally got the courage to ask one.
"How can the CIA go after one of their own officers?"
"Possunt quia posse videntur."
"What?"
"I said, they can because they seem to be able to."
Jackson’s face scrunched up in confusion. "Do you never give a straight answer?"
"It’s undoubtedly possible that the possibility is possible."
Jackson struck the steering wheel with one of his hands in frustration.
"Temper, temper," Sands scolded, wagging a finger in his direction.
"Why the hell can’t you just talk like a normal human being?"
Sands smiled as if enjoying his own private joke as he removed his shoulder holster from the bag and strapped it on. Shaking his head to himself Sands replied, "You have much to learn grasshopper," complete with accent to match.
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 12:02:23 GMT -5
"We’re here," Jackson announced as he drove into the outskirts of the small town. It wasn’t much, and he could already see why Sands called it Guitar Town.
"Groovy, now head to the center. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find in this one-horse ghost town."
Sands felt the car come to a halt as he finished loading his guns and assorted paraphernalia on his person. Sands sat there for a moment, deciding on which of his plans to use. Touching his sunglasses subconsciously as he faced straight ahead, he finally asked, "So, how’s the view?"
Jackson could tell he was trying very hard to sound casual, and he briefly wondered how long the man next to him had been without sight.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he started to describe what he saw. A tiny town, with large buildings surrounding the small town square. The square itself was surrounded by small booths with finished and unfinished guitars hanging from the walls and ceilings of the sellers’ stands. There were a few older men manning the booths, and a few others making guitars with very few people or activity other than that.
As Jackson described the square, Sands committed as much of it as he could to memory, and tried his d**nedest to visualize it. He’d always thought he possessed a vivid imagination, yet nothing his mind’s eye could see could hold a candle to what his eyes had.
Sands had to dispel those thoughts before he got himself depressed. He nodded briefly as Jackson finished. "Alright. You’ll come with me, walking only slightly in front of me. Make a bee-line for a manned booth."
"And after that?"
"I work my magic and you stay out of my pixie dust."
Jackson nodded and bit his lower lip nervously. He really didn’t appreciate the fact that he was being dragged into this, and he really wasn’t sure anymore that ten thousand dollars was enough.
"Oh yeah, and Jackson… remember what I said about the subject that’s on a need to know basis?"
"Yeah."
"No one here needs to know." He said, facing Jackson again. Jackson could tell he was adamant on the subject. "Get it?"
"Got it."
Sands smiled, "Good." His eyebrows waggled up and down a few times teasingly. "You ready to rock?"
Jackson sighed and opened his car door. "I’ll never be ready."
Sands opened his door and stepped out as well. "Please don’t tell me you’re a jazz man, or worse…" Sands shuddered theatrically, "country."
Shutting his door Sands straightened himself up and stretched his stiff arms for a second. "All you are required to do is lead, shut up, stay out of the way and look pretty. So don’t fret my pet."
Jackson walked up to the front of the car, waiting for Sands. "And my chances of being riddled with bullets this time?"
"I’d say they’re pretty good. The Mariachi we’re currently seeking is a bit loco, after all."
Jackson narrowed his eyes warily, never quite sure when Sands was joking. Sands confidently followed the sound of Jackson’s footsteps as they began the walk across the square, looking for the entire world like he was scoping the place out.
Sands felt a bit of excitement at the prospect of meeting El again, and smiled at the thought. Sands’ entrance into El’s beloved hometown would come as a great surprise to El, and Sands just loved to make a big entrance.
He took a deep breath, as if tasting the air. Yes, El was here and he was going to get his attention one way or another. After all, in Sands’ mind, El had a betrayal to compensate for and Sands was going to make sure that he collected in full.
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Post by AgentScarlett on Apr 5, 2005 12:20:59 GMT -5
Chapter 25: Siste, viator (Stop, traveler)
Sands followed the dull crunch of Jackson’s footsteps on the dirt. If El had survived the Day of the Dead, then El was here, and Sands was willing to bet that El was anything but dead.
So Sands’ real task was not to search for the legendary El Mariachi, something he’d be hard pressed to do, but to draw the man to him.
After a short walk across the square he heard Jackson come to a halt in front of him so Sands followed suit. Stopping just beside Jackson, Sands pretended to look at the merchandise as Jackson greeted a man at the booth ahead of them.
Sands however didn’t bother with such pleasantries.
“¿Habla algo de Inglés?” (Speak any English?)
“No, lo siento, Señor,” (No. Sorry, Sir.) the man replied, and Sands wasn’t surprised. The man sounded very much like an old and weathered Mexican who’d seen little outside his tiny town.
Sands shrugged indifferently at the man’s apology. “No piel de mi espalda,” (No skin off my back) he said, not caring that the man had probably never even heard the expression before and had absolutely no clue what Sands meant. Sands continued before the man could ponder it for too long. “¿Ha vivido toda su vida en este encantador tazón de polvo?” (Have you lived in this charming dust-bowl your entire life?)
“Lo he hecho,” (I have.) the man answered shortly, and Sands guessed that he’d already aroused the seller’s suspicion.
Sands smiled the sweetest smile he could manage, trying his hardest to look as innocent as possible, which unfortunately, wasn’t very innocent at all.
“Entonces usted debe hacer un joder malo como guitarra, soy yo derecho?” (Then you must make some f**king bad ass guitars here, am I right?)
Sands rocked back on his heels as he waited for the man to reply. He must have been somewhat startled, as it took him a minute to answer.
“¡Eso sí que hacemos!” (That we do!) the man at the booth boasted proudly as Sands stopped rocking on his heels and put on a serious face.
“Entonces ha de haber escuchado sobre El Mariachi.” (Then you must have heard of El Mariachi.)
A pause. “Él es un mito.” (He is a myth.)
Sands chuckled. “Para nada. Él es tan solo altamente sobreestimado.” (Not at all. El is just highly overrated.)
Sands heard another man start to move forward, and he tensed up ever so slightly, very much on his guard, but he remained calm on the outside with well practiced ease.
Jackson watched Sands work, and had to wonder what he was up to. He hoped to hell Sands had a better plan than the one he was currently implementing, as he was sure they were getting nowhere fast.
Sands leaned toward the man as he continued in a calm but demanding voice.
“¿Dónde se esconde?” (Where is he hiding?)
“No sé de lo que me está hablando.” (I don’t know what you’re talking about.)
Sands tilted his head a bit and smirked, knowing full well the man was lying, no doubt trying to protect the brooding Mariachi. “Sé que anda escondiéndose en algún lugar por aquí…” (I know he’s skulking around here somewhere…) Sands paused and leaned back casually, continuing to rock back and forth on his heels.
“Él no está aquí.” (He is not here.)
Again, Sands shrugged, as if all his questioning was of no consequence at all. “Ah, que se joda. Él no vale mi tiempo.” (f**k it. He is not worthy of my time anyway.)
“Siento que haya hecho el viaje para nada.” (I’m sorry you made the trip for nothing.)
Sands raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Ahora, ¿quién dijo que hice el viaje hasta aquí para ver a Él? Después de todo, este pueblo vende guitarras y sucede que yo me encuentro buscando una.” Sands pointed at himself to express his point. (Now, whoever said I made a trip here to see El? After all, this is a town that sells guitars and I just happen to be looking for one.)
The man was again silent before the salesman within took over. “¿Oh? ¿Entonces, cuál le gusta?” (Oh, then which one would you like?)
Sands quirked a dark eyebrow at the man. “La mejor, claro.” (The best of course.)
The man must have nodded because he said nothing as he walked off to what Sands could only assume was another side of the booth to get ‘the best’. Sands took the opportunity to light up one of his remaining cigarettes and take a long drag. Jackson got a couple steps closer, about to ask a question, when Sands low voice stopped him. “Not a word, Tonto.”
Jackson wisely backed off, not saying a word, and gave Sands his space.
A wicked smile played over Sands’ lips as a feeling crept over him.
It was a feeling that most people experience at one time or another, but since that fateful day it seemed to be another magnified sense to add to his ever growing collection.
Someone was watching him.
Sands heard the man take down a guitar and bring it back over as he took another puff of his cigarette. Truthfully, Sands had no intention of buying the guitar but it would serve its purpose well.
“Nuestra mejor guitarra, Señor.” (Our best guitar, Sir.)
“Ponla ahí,” (Set it down) Sands said while he pretended to casually glance around as he smoked. He had no intention of tipping anyone off about his weakness by blindly reaching for the guitar. Once he heard the guitar’s gentle thud on the booth, Sands knew where it was. Taking a step closer he pretended to be inspecting it. “Your useless opinion Jackson?”<br> Jackson started a bit, not expecting to be talked to at all. “Uh, it’s… nice.”<br> Sands’ head moved in Jackson’s direction, one eyebrow raised. “Jackson, do I strike you as a man looking for something nice? What I want to know is… do I need to counterbalance such workmanship?”<br> Jackson blinked. He had no idea what Sands was talking about. “Uh…”
“Is it so beautifully well crafted that I need to shoot the craftsman?”
Jackson’s eyes opened to about three times their normal size as he stared at Sands, at a loss for words.
Sands turned back towards the guitar and thingyed his head thoughtfully. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he lowered a hand down lightly until he felt a string underneath his fingertips and then lowered the other hand. Taking a step closer he ran a hand slowly along the guitar, feeling it out. To the unwitting onlookers it just looked as if he was admiring the craftsmanship of the piece.
Sands’ face was serious, but not overly hard either – an impossible to read mask perfected over years of service for the Company. He gently lifted the guitar off the counter and slipped the leather strap over his shoulder, still feeling an intense gaze on him as he did so.
Jackson came up beside him and whispered in his ear. “There’s a man in a building to your right watching us from a second floor window.”<br> Sands only nodded his head once ever so briefly to acknowledge Jackson’s words before he tried out a chord. Stepping away from Jackson, Sands slowly began retracing his steps to their parked car. He smiled lightly to himself. He was no idiot. El was watching… waiting to see what he was up to and no doubt trying to decide what to do about the situation. Sands thought that for a killing machine, the man really was quite a square.
The cigarette dangled precariously from his mouth as he idly walked towards the car. He played with the strings, experimentally at first, listening to the unique sound each pluck made as he slid one hand up and down, the other striking chords. It needed to be tuned, but it wasn’t a bad instrument. He paused a moment and turned back towards the small booth, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he did so.
“Este es un patético pedazo de madera. ¿La mejor?” (This is a rather pathetic hunk of wood. The best?) Sands tilted his head and let out a disbelieving grunt, “¿Cómo se alimentan?” (How do you feed yourselves?) he asked, his voice laden with sarcasm, speaking loudly enough so that perhaps El could hear as well. Truthfully, it was a nice guitar, but it wasn’t the best.
‘It’s certainly not worth wasting a bullet over.’<br> No, the best guitars made in Paracho would always be reserved for one man. El.
Turning his back on everyone he took sure, deliberate, slow steps to the car and returned the cigarette to his lips. As he did so he began to pick up a simple tune that he used to play way back in what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been years since he had played the guitar. He’d never been a great guitarist, but hadn’t been too bad either.
He felt his leg lightly touch the bumper of the car and he pivoted neatly before seating himself atop the hood. As he listened to the tune he realized just how rusty he was. The fact that he could no longer see the guitar strings was not helping matters at all. Frowning ever so slightly, he tried to lose himself in the music, in the painfully simple tune he was trying so hard not to completely wreck. Lifting his face into the wind as a gusty breeze blew by, he recognized how much more important something as simple as feeling a breeze on his skin had become to him now.
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