Trials and Trust
Isidro Velasco was born Isidro Luis Grimau somewhere in Spain approximately five decades ago. As a young man from a poor family, he never went to school. Since childhood, he was known in the community as a thief; having several times stolen the neighbours' pigs to sell to nearby towns. When he reached a certain age, he was sent to serve in the military, to the relief of his parents.
Eventually, he left Spain, running off to the United States and joining the U.S. Army. After his term ended, Grimau was granted U.S. citizenship, and he continued to serve the military under various missions.
Greed soon got the better of him, and Grimau befriended powerful-but-scrupulous people in Mexico after a covert mission in the country. His relationship with the Mexicans fell apart after funding to the core organization met with opposition from the NSA. The United States branded him a traitor after this incident and, as he was discovered to be helping the enemy, revoked his citizenship.
Five years ago, a friend contacted Isidro about working a case for an American ‘kid’ — some detective from an international firm. He ignored the request until nearly three months later, when an attempt to exploit fast cash got him into trouble. A stranger bailed him out, and after all was said and done, bought him coffee and cigarettes at a border town. The young man, introducing himself as Chase Devineaux, convinced Grimau to join him, if only to return the favour. Thus, for the past four years, Isidro worked for Devineaux outside of ACME, enjoying the freedom immensely.
When Chase arrived at the informant's safe house earlier that evening, he found the front door unlocked, and upon further investigation, discovered that someone had been watching his agent for quite some time. An altercation ensued and the incident required medical assistance. Chase called Sophie; and the rest, theoretically, was about to become history.
The porch was narrow and dim. An unlit ceiling lamp hung over it, the area rug a faded-green and the floor littered with the contents from an overturned stand of broken umbrellas. There may have been an old hat that Devineaux stepped on, unnoticed.
The front door remained unlocked and a muffled, rhythmic banging resonated from beyond. He entered casually, aware of the eyes that were watching him, and it was a beat or two after that Sophie Conrad followed.
In the small hallway that led to several opened rooms, an older man sat on the floor. He was decently muscular, someone of past military service, with a thin beard. His black hair held streaks of white that were prominent against his darker skin. One hand was cupped at his side, the other seemed to be unusable, and both his feet, bare and shoeless, were pushed against the only closed door in the house — the broom closet — where the rapping was coming from. Next to him was a phone — one of Chase's — that had slipped just out of his reach. When he saw the Field Director, his heavy breathing paused with a sigh of relief, only to tense when Sophie came into view.
“She’s a doctor,” Devineaux immediately explained.
“¡No!” the man sharply protested, assuming the worst, “Ningún médico, le dije que no doctor!”
“Lo sé, I know,” Chase spoke calmly, “Isidro, it's ok, está bien, ella es mi agente.”
The man was no less wary. “¿Habla español?” he asked.
The Director looked at Sophie, who had not moved but for the slightest smile. He shrugged, “Sí, ella entendía todo lo que dijiste.”
Nodding some form of approval, the man nervously laughed.
“I take it he's awake?” Chase hinted towards the closet door, “How long?”
“Too long,” Isidro spoke in moderately accented English, “And, it took you too long to get here. I wait for bandages and you get me doctor, chico tonto!”
Ignoring the Spanish admonishment, Chase turned his attention to the closed door. By now, the noise had stopped, whoever who was in there was listening to them.
Looking at Sophie, he said, “Take him inside, see what you can do?”
Then, he motioned for Isidro to move his feet, “I’ve got it from here.”
To be continued...
Part 3 was written wholly by Chase Devineaux;
mildly edited by myself.
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