Infiltrator

With a half smile Sarah put down her brush and fluffed her bangs. Funny, that's just what makes the smugglers trust me. She added a touch of lipstick. Her

mouth was the same, still the full lower lip, but now it was bracketed with what she chose to refer to as smile lines. Not that anyone would want to see the smile that could produce such marks.

Sarah walked into the front office with her drink and her cigarettes to find Meylinda browsing a magazine instead of filing the massive stack of invoices at her elbow. Sarah suppressed a sigh. She'd fire the girl in a New York minute except that Meylinda was a vast improvement over the previous two. Being a known smuggler kept many families from allowing their daughters to work for her. Including the families of smugglers. She was lucky to have anyone.

Tapping out a cigarette, she smiled at her employee.

'Oh! Thank you for coming, senora. See you in fifteen minutes,' Meylinda said cheerfully. She picked up her pocketbook and magazine and flitted out the front door.

Fifteen minutes. Right. Sarah lit up and took a drag of her cigarette. Picking up the stack of invoices, she took them over to the filing cabinet. I'll be lucky if she makes it back in time to go to lunch.

Ernesto had told her that there was an apparently serious flirtation going on between Meylinda and a boy who worked at the confiten'a down the street. And serious flirting took time. I wonder if she'll be getting married soon. If so Sarah would soon be in the market for another receptionist. She dreaded the prospect.

There was someone behind her. Sarah continued to place invoices in their files as she tried to sense something about the mysterious presence. It didn't smell like one of the mechanics or drivers, no sharp scent of gas or oil. She heard the

whisper of fabric, of slacks or jeans, making it probable the intruder was a male.

He moved young. And then she knew.

'Hi, John,' she said, smiling.

'How do you do that?' he demanded. 'I could have sworn I didn't make a sound.'

She turned, still smiling, and opened her arms to him. When he stepped into her hug she blinked to find her chin resting on his shoulder. 'Whoa!' she said, holding him off. 'You've grown!'

'I'm sixteen, Mom. It happens.' He looked smug as he said it.

Sarah looked him over, shaking her head. There was a lighter mark on the cuffs of his school uniform jacket where the sleeves had been taken down, but even so his wrist-bones were visible. The trousers showed the same problem.

'Did they send you home early for being a disgrace to your uniform?' she asked.

'They sent me home be-cause.' He held up an envelope containing his report card.

Sarah took it with a raised eyebrow and opened it. There was a note inside from the principal/commandant of the very expensive military academy she was sending him to.

It told her that her son was an extraordinary student who had saved the life of one of his fellows while they were out on field maneuvers. The boy had been bitten by a snake. John had applied a tourniquet, and had organized his squad to

make a stretcher from their rifles and blankets, and then he had led them back to the academy. For this presence of mind, for his exceptional leadership qualities, and for getting straight A's, he was being rewarded by being sent on summer break early.

'Congratulations,' she said. Quiet pride shone from her eyes.

He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

'Hey, I had a good teacher. I'm supposed to be, like, this great military leader, remember?'

She hugged him again, knowing he didn't mean the teachers at the academy.

'Exceptional leadership qualities, the commandant says,' Sarah reminded him.

'Nobody can teach you that.'

'Yeah, but you knew that before I was hatched,' he said. 'No prob-lemo. It's just my nature.'

Sarah snorted. 'Don't get cocky, kid. It's when you're taking bows that the world most likes to kick your butt. Listen, I'm kinda stuck here.' She looked over her shoulder at the messy desk. 'Meylinda's on break and in love.'

John laughed. 'You want me to hunt her down?'

'Mmmm. No, I've still got a couple of things to finish up. But if you can entertain yourself until one, I'll call it quits for the day and let Ernesto lock up.'

'Great,' he said. 'God, I'm dying of thirst.' John went to the desk and picked up

the glass of terere'. 'This yours, Mom?' He took a gulp before she could stop him. 'Hooo-waah!' he said, tears in his eyes. 'What did you put in this,' he rasped, 'battery acid?' He waved a hand in front of his face. 'Whoo!'

'That's what you get for not asking permission,' she said, coming over to the desk. Sarah took another drag of her cigarette and rolled her eyes at his disapproving glare. 'What?' she snapped.

'I thought you'd given up smoking,' he said. He looked disappointed.

This is not my day, she thought. Every man I see is disappointed or disapproving. Then she felt a little brighter inside. She'd actually thought of her son as a man.

'I mean after what you went through quitting last summer, I can't believe you took it up again.' He shifted his stance awkwardly, then put down the terere.

'C'mon, Mom, you're tougher than that.'

Sarah rolled her eyes. 'Okay, okay.' She tamped out the cigarette. 'But can we talk about this later, hmm?'

'Sure. Um, I'll go get a soda, or something. Maybe keep an eye on Meylinda.'

Sarah laughed. 'She'll probably use you to make this new guy jealous. Do you need money?'

'Nah, I've got some.' He looked at her for a moment, and then he reached over and gave her a peck on the cheek. 'See ya in a couple of hours.'

'Bye.' She watched him go, noting the new maturity in his walk, and sighed.

Funny he mentioned the cigarettes but not the cana in her tea. He would, though.

She could rely on that.

John walked down the dusty street with his hands in his pockets, listening to conversations in Guarni and Spanish and several dialects of German—all of which he spoke—and acknowledging waves. A punishable offense on campus, so he did it every chance he got.

Quite a difference from the days when I was rippin' off ATM cards, he thought with a twisted little smile.

The extent of his crimes these days was making his jacket look baggy and maybe smuggling beer or cookies into the dorm. The air smelled powerfully of dry dust and the odors that went with being a cow-town; the owners of the estancias around drove their stock here for the big semis to pick up. From here he could see the green of paddocks, the gray-green thorny Chaco scrub, and the long sandy bareness of the road. Palms lined the road, rustling dryly in the heat.

He passed the confiten'a and looking through the window caught sight of a smiling Meylinda in close conference with a guy whose vast black mustache dominated his thin brown face.

He wondered if his mother might once have been such a girl. A girl with nothing more on her mind than clothes and guys.

Meylinda was a fairly pretty girl. Surely she had other options. John shook his head in puzzlement and moved on. His mother had often said that if women didn't have bad taste in men there wouldn't be a human race.

His mother.

He could still feel the heat of the cana in his stomach. For a few seconds he'd