13.3 Angel of Mercy

In 1978, she escorted an Arab who was visiting a naturistic resort in Málaga. Not that he stripped down beyond breeches and a long cabana shirt. He told Madeleine that he liked seeing naked men and women.

In the heat of sparkling waves, located in Costa del Sol, this Marbella resort faced the beachfront. Sand around and no trees near the shoreline. Thatched parasols erected in a row and drinks served there. Short and dry palms in the haze and blaze. Naked bathers slumped like dry logs to burn in the sun.

Juan Carlos Bauzá sat there watching every move of Khalid. He moved about in flip-flops from this wing to the other of the three-storey remote and rugged complex, not sitting down for a moment. An incredibly thin girl in white bikini followed lazily that Bauzá figured she was with Khalid after two hours. When he reached the second wing, she’d be coming out of the first – the distance aloof.

Bauzá approached the thin girl who sat alone beside a table. One narrow leg lifted to place a heel in the butt on the chair. Shapeless white panties and hair uncombed, a glass of margarita left on the table.

“Hola!” he sat down and began to talk in Spanish, “I see you around with Khalid.”

She nodded.

“What is your name?”

“Madeleine Blanche,” that was the gruffest voice he heard.

“Spanish?”

“French,” replied Madeleine.

“Tell me, where is he calling all the time at the reception?” enquired Bauzá in English.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m Juan. I am an Argentinean. Do you know I have an appointment with Khalid?”

She shook her head.

“What will it cost me to get my hands on his address book?” Khalid carried a leather-coated thick address book. And he made calls at the reception to numbers he referred from the address book.

She smiled with a spark in her eyes, “If you want, give me one-thousand pesetas.”

Juan Carlos Bauzá quickly dropped the note on the table. Madeleine got up and tucked it inside her panties and began to walk slowly towards the first wing.

Afternoon sun going down and carroty rays lit the beach in a much better sublime. He was here in Spain on a private mission to sell some gold valuables stolen from somewhere in Argentina. Khalid was the buyer who made calls to some other party abroad to agree with prices. Finally, this other party approved one million dollars for the entire purchase and the broker immediately signed a cheque for initial deposit of $200,000 from Credit Suisse Bank in Gibraltar.

Orange rays blanched on a thin figure as she reappeared in the fading sun, proceeding sluggishly with the leather-coated address book in her hand.

“Don’t go away!” cautioned Bauzá as he grabbed the book and stepped away from the table.

When he returned, Madeleine was gone and Khalid flip-flopped around the tables looking for his address book in a disarray. Bauzá stepped in the sand-filled reception floor and secretly left the address book on the counter. Eventually, after a quarrel with the front office staff, he picked his book and returned to his room. It was after sunset and almost time for dinner at the thatch-hut restaurant.

Juan Carlos Bauzá met the girl twice on this trip afterwards. First, that very evening to pass her another thousand-peseta note.

Next it was when he called the overseas source which was SOUTHERN CROSS in Johannesburg, he discovered Khalid quote wide over the mark by a quarter million dollars.

Bauzá met Madeleine secretly and gave his address card. “Now take a bus and get out of the place before I blow him!” he told her, “If you come to Argentina, call me.”

Of course not, Juan Carlos Bauzá never trusted her because she steals things and he did too. However, he figured her calmness and cool entity, the quality and potential in her to pull out almost anything.

Madeleine and Marina entered the rooftop restaurant. There were quite some number of guests. Dressed for dinner and sprayed of perfume, they wandered between the tables to the far side. Madeleine wore a short redwood wrap dress with cap sleeves and of semi-sheer organic cotton. Marina wore a plain red sheath mini dress of polyester rib, with a wide square neck and her bosom spilling over the top.

Salah came to talk to them and spent a while standing by the table. He invited them to a little party after dinner by the pool. When he left, Madeleine ridiculed sarcastically, “Salah is the richest guest at this hotel. I feel the same way sometimes when I’m in budget hotels but I don’t show off,” and released a gurgle.

“You don’t?” chuckled Marina.

“I mean, I don’t pass drinks!”

After dinner, a small crowd gathered at the swimming pool. Eric Rider was there and others at the bar. Salah’s crowd was out beside the pool and drinks passed on his account. He was keen on Marina, “You are fabulous in that little red dress!”

“Thank you,” Marina returned.

An hour later, they prepared a grill and then a good crowd joined. Soon, they began to play limbo. Madeleine joined and successfully attempted some levels. By then her wrap dress came unwrapped. She won the dance. Then they requested her to go for a single challenge to see how low she could pass under the limbo bar.

Her legs, as thin as rakes, skimmed the surface with knees pointed, she went under ten inches and stunned the crowd. Eric Rider did well but he was five inches shy. The party continued with salsa dance.

They were so carried away that Marina or Madeleine did not think about the cameras and flashes turned on them.