13.1 Angel of Mercy

Madeleine grabbed the rails and leaned over the swimming pool in a drizzle, hips forward and torso tilted back. Her eyes sparked when cheeks turn up in smile that often too broad. Her eyes were dark and the blue could only be noticed in closer observation. If her smile left a mouth open, the upper row of teeth rest on the lower lip. She got freckles faintly on her shoulders. Wet hair clamped a petite face. “Come on!” she cried, “Come on, Mary!”

Marina remained to squat in water. Her elbows locked and flicking with a smile on her face as if she was holding back from a shiver though she was shyly refraining from difficult demands.

“Many people are there!” hissed Marina through the rain wiping a hand on her face.

“Nobody will come in the rain,” uttered Madeleine trying to grab a lace from her bikini and Marina blocked her hand.

Light rain continued to fall and cloudy in the sky. Madeleine and Marina entered the small pool on the rooftop after breakfast at La Terrazza Restaurant on the north wing at the same level. There were few hotel guests taking breakfast at the hour in the crammed rooftop restaurant. Tables placed too close and wood to knock. There stood a wall blocking the view of the pool from the restaurant.

There stood the pool bar by the south and canvas extension on the west, balustrades separating the wet floor. Usually, the pool side remained vacant during daytime. However, in the evenings, hotel guests would party here on the terrace.

Brigida and Chio were gone. Hotel Calidoso was located in the heart of the city. There were all sorts of people outside, beggars and the homeless, sometimes pretty dangerous.

“Maddy!” called the bartender.

“Tomé!” cried Madeleine.

“I have something for you,” he too had known how much Madeleine loved to eat, “A costela crash burger.”

“Let’s eat!” Madeleine grabbed the rail and climbed up leaving Marina in the pool. She picked Marina’s bikini from the floor and ran behind the balustrade into the bar.

“Hola!” Madeleine climbed the stool beside the counter, “Get me a beer!” and dug into the burger at once with her fingers.

Marina appeared behind the balustrade. She propped on the counter beside Madeleine, “Did you not bring a towel?”

“Have some bite!” blurted Madeleine.

There came a waiter and another simultaneously. Marina caught in panic, “What time is it now?”

“I don’t know,” garbled Madeleine, “Did you not bring your watch?”

“I left it in the room,” she said.

“Oh!” murmured Madeleine, “You must not leave anything in the room.”

“Why?” asked Marina.

“It’s not safe in these hotel rooms.”

“Nobody goes in accept Luz.”

Madeleine leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “You cannot trust anyone, not even the housekeeper.”

A visitor showed up. Marina slipped to stand at the end of the counter. Tomé peered from the storeroom at the figure from a side; she got terrific shape.

“Hola!” greeted Madeleine.

“Hello!” returned the Canadian wearing glasses, “Eric Rider.”

“Maddy. How are you?” and she did not introduce Marina who wore only a silver choker around her neck with a tiny pendant of a cross.

“Fine! Nice to meet you!” he said sitting down on a stool beside her. “I will have a beer,” he waved to Tomé.

“So, what brings you here?”

“Biking on a backpack tour,” he said, “I am a fencing teacher working in Medellín, two years now.”

“Fencing!” cried Madeleine in a motion to face him and her knees popped slightly but she corrected, “I love fencing.”

“You do?”

“Not too well,” she said, “I am probably out of practice.”

“That is alright,” Rider said, “You are a sportsperson. Where are you from?”

“I am French. I’m just…” she cautiously altered to say, “touring…going to Mexico.”

Madeleine finished the dish and slid down wiping her hands. Those stools were pretty tall and so was the counter top. As Madeleine turned behind Marina to enter the back bar, she dropped a wink at Eric Rider.

Madeleine picked a couple of towels and straightened in time to see two guests loom to the bar and their son.

And now there was a crowd. Madeleine passed one to Marina and left the other on the counter top to use it later. She reached the stool and climbed facing Rider. Madeleine lit a cigarette.

“Shall we move there?” motioned Rider pointing to the loungers beside the pool.

“It’s wet,” said the woman.

“Looks alright to me!”

Madeleine slid down again. She took the bikini from between the balustrades and passed to Marina before leaving, “Do you want to go to the room?”

“I am fine,” said Marina who wrapped a towel and sat down with a beer.

“Hello!” the middle-age man next to her negotiated, “I’m Salah.”

“Salah!”

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Mary…name’s Mary,” she said, “Where are you from?”

“South Africa,” he replied.

“Phew!” sighed Marina, that was close, “Is that your wife?”

He nodded, “Yes, my wife, Fatima, and our kid, Ehsan.”

“Nice to meet you!” Marina decided not to pull out immediately. She could do with a few lies.

“Where are you from?” asked Salah.

“I’m French. Travelling with my friend,” she managed to say.

“May I buy you a drink?”

“Alright.”

“I am a mine supervisor. Gold mine. My card,” he passed an address card, “This is my first time. My company got interested in overseas privatisations in India and South America and they send me here.” He waved to Tomé as he came in, “Pass around a shot!”

“Tequila!” the barman chanted.

Tomé poured the drinks and he carried a tray of caballitos with salt and lime to those two beside the pool, “This from the gentleman with Mary!”

Madeleine picked her glass and ran into the bar to join. The Canadian stayed in his seat and raised his glass slightly for he could not see them clearly behind the balustrade.

“CHEERS!”

For the most part of the trip, Madeleine and Marina stayed away from public places, pubs and bars, for their own sake of security. Sometimes, somebody would ask and the two carried on to say they were French. This time, Eric Rider would probably know that she was French because he was Canadian. Only that he did not speak French.