I roll over and stretch, looking out the bedroom window. It’s a lovely Saturday morning. There’s nothing on the schedule, so Jack and I are lounging in bed. Suddenly, the doorbell sounds.
Damn. I turn on the television and tune to the Front Door Channel. It’s Clusine. Double Damn.
Jack keeps giving him a key to the house so he doesn’t have to get out of bed to answer the door, but Clusine is the LAST person I wish to have unrestricted access to my humble abode, so I keep calling in the locksmith in to change the locks.
“Release the dogs,” says Jack.
“We have dogs? Well I hope you’ve been feeding them.”
Jack goes downstairs, opens the front door and throws a key at Clusine.
Being the ever hospitable persons that we are, we invite Clusine in.
It seems that he needs to make a visual confirmation of Jack’s whereabouts once again.
Jack tells me to prepare Clusine some eggs. I’m pretty sure his tone is indicating that I should use the special ingredients, so Clusine takes a nice nap in his breakfast plate during which time Jack and I call in a technician to put a tracking device on Clusine’s car and shave half of his beard and mustache off.
Clusine has told us that someone believes that Jack is in Central America. Couple that with the fact that Faux Jack Rossi has had someone checking his whereabouts in New York City and I think something might be up. I no longer think we have enough Jacks so I am going to indoctrinate Alex Architect into the program. I know he’ll be pleased!!!
I call Mr. Patterson to see what’s going on in Central America. It seems Paris is there with a team to clean up some loose ends relating to a recent mission in Argentina.
From what I learn from Paris, the agent not the city, later on, I can tell you now that Paris, Serafina and the humorless Florist/Assassin Jean went to Belize. Jean was supposed to wait on Saunders’ ship, which they’d hired, while the ladies set up his target, but they apparently removed his patience when he had his humorectomy and he went to town on his own. When the whole team ended up in a bar at the same time as another homicidal former target (we have GOT to stop leaving those around), mayhem ensued. The team made it out, but Paris and Jean have been wounded. Paris did manage to find a scientist that our employers are interested in and ‘convinced’ this woman to accompany her back to the ship. And, of course, all of the mayhem and blood are increasing the hit to Paris’s wallet.
Of course, I don’t know any of this, I only know that Paris is in Central America and some bad guys there are looking for Jack. These situations never turn out well for Paris. Best case scenario, she’ll be kidnapped. Worst case scenario, she could end up dead. I simply can’t have that. I am quite fond of her and haven’t even gotten the opportunity to show her my new nail polish find, Midnight Marauder! So, I tell Jack we’re going to Cancún.
Jack is complaining about having to cancel the full schedule he has at his pediatric practice on Monday, but I stopped listening to him ten minutes ago. I call the McBobsey Twins and get the name of their weapons contact in Mexico. My plan is to go there, buy a weapon and leave it there when we’re done. You know, what happens in Cancún stays in Cancún.
But does Jack do that? Noooooo. Jack’s plan is to walk through Customs, announce who he is and have them say “yeah right” and allow him to continue on his way.
Since I didn’t like his plan in the first place, I am not surprisingly less than pleased as I watch him being led away in handcuffs by customs officials.
I call Clusine. “Why would you want to keep Jack in France?” Apparently, Clusine is unaware of Jack’s predicament on account of he is at his barber’s shop having his beard fixed. Okay, so it might not be the best time to ask for a favor!!!!
I am using the stupid tracking device to try and follow Clusine around only to end up back at the airport, where I have to buy a new ticket to get beyond the security checkpoint. And it’s not even a first class ticket. Oh, Jack is going to pay.
Eventually, Clusine catches up to me or I catch up to him – depending on your perspective, hands me two bottles of water claiming that Jack is thirsty and lets me see him.
For his part, Jack has provided the men watching on the other side of the observation glass with lots of entertainment as he picks his way out of the cuffs using his ever-present-sewn-into-all-of-his-clothing handcuff key and tried all of the doors, tried to pick up the bolted to the floor table to throw through the glass and finally the chair (which at least got him a verbal warning indicating that he wasn’t really alone).
I throw one of the water bottles at Jack’s head, but he deflects it with his hand. Damn, too bad about that handcuff key.
We proceed to have a fight. Now I know that Clusine and all his buddies are behind the two-way mirror having a good laugh, but I don’t care. I have missed my flight, I’m now destined to take a later one, flying coach where I’ll probably wind up sitting next to some obnoxious traveling salesman who sells bizarre sex toys and wants to show me his samples, as well as behind some snotty child whose Monday appointment with Dr. Jaqcues Payne was cancelled, freeing his family to travel on the very same flight that I’m on, and I may not be in the best of moods.
I tell Jack this is all his fault, he should have waited to get a weapon in Mexico since we weren’t going to kill anybody in France just now, blah blah blah …
After a few minutes, the men behind the glass actually start to feel sorry for Jack and let him go, figuring that I can mete out a punishment far worse than anything the French courts could.
In an attempt to redeem himself, Jack manages to charm the airline employee into selling him a first class ticket and upgrading mine. Actually, he first got his ticket, but turning and seeing the Coach class ticket in my hand thought better of kissing me at the gate to go to his seat …
Meanwhile, in the Caribbean …
Paris and company are stuck on a ship that is now running silently and hiding from a pirate ship. Jean is being treated by the ship’s medical staff and apparently, when drugged, is capable of full sentences. However, I can only imagine that these close quarters are giving new meaning to the words Cabin Fever for Paris. I find out later, that she is so desperate for some activity, that she enlists Serafina, the Venezuelan hydraulic engineer, to show her how to build a dam on a deserted island. Okay, so that sounds a little bizarre to me, too. But I know Paris when she’s bored and can only imagine that her insistence at having something to occupy herself with led to this exercise in utter futility. I fear for Paris’s mental health … and the lives of those around her! The girls do, however, come up with an ingenious plan to rig Paris’s phone to send a message to me telling me that they now know that there are ten bad guys in Cancún looking for Jack and me after they have left the area so as not to reveal their location to the pirates.
Jack and I manage to get to Cancún and find the arms contact that Sean and Maureen gave me and I buy some guns for us. I also call Rossi and tell him that we need some Jack sightings in Atlantic City. It takes some convincing to get him to drop the new Playstation3 that he stole off of an unfortunate gaming geek who camped out for three days in the cold and rain to get it, but eventually good sense (and a survival instinct) takes over and Rossi heeds my command and goes to gamble. I wish it was that easy to distract Jack from wanting to gamble!
I have no idea where to find Paris, but I am hoping we’ll find her when her ship comes in (no pun intended) so we go to the shore.
There’s still no sign of Paris, but I do spot Cult and Squid. I send Jack for some beer. “No Coronas,” I tell him recalling the boys’ dislike for cheap beer. “Make sure it’s Dos Equis.”
Armed with a case of good beer, Jack and I board and start drinking with the boys. They were supposed to meet Pele (Paris) here, but she hasn’t shown up. There’s some more conversation, including one about hanging children from trees … or maybe it was piñatas – my Spanish isn’t that good, and then a street urchin approaches and mentions that someone in town is looking for a gringo and a gringa.
Hey, Jack and I are a gringo and a gringa! What a coincidence!
Then I spot one Rikkert Wolf off in the distance staring at us. He was a security person for one of the jerks we offed in Argentina, I believe. He may be less than pleased with us. With my new policy of not leaving homicidal former targets around, I am thinking we need to get rid of him. I pay the street urchin to follow him and tell me where he goes.
Unfortunately, the child (or future piñata, depending on how much he pisses me off) loses the Wolfman.
Eventually, when it gets dark, Jack and I go in search of a nondescript hotel to sleep off the beer and jetlag.
In the morning, we start looking for the Wolfman again. We don’t find him, but we do spot Jake Jake! Oh, what an unpleasant surprise!! I sit at the table next to him and ask what he’s doing here. Apparently, Paris has a prisoner for him to extradite to the US.
I mention that Rikkert Wolf could prove a hindrance to any of the team’s plans and how I’d like to take him out of the equation.
“So, you’re here to take him out?”
“No,” I scoff, “I’m here to show Midnight Marauder to my friend.” I go on to describe the new nail polish in great, utterly painstaking detail.
Jake Jake looks uncomfortably confused and still jumps slightly whenever I reach toward any bottles or mugs. With a promise that he’ll see if he can locate Wolf and call us if he does, we part company.
We continue to search for Wolf, finally ending up in a bar that is frequented by lots of Europeans. We spot Wolf who also spots us and, while he seems surprised that we’re here, he doesn’t seem at all concerned. If I’d been more perceptive at the time that might have told me something valuable …
Since there is a railing in between Wolf and us, with openings at either end, I tell Jack we have to split up.
“Yeah,” he shouts, “Well, you’d better get a good lawyer, lady! I get the country house and …”
What the fuck is he talking about????
I turn him towards the room and point out Wolf.
“Oh.” Jack deflates slightly and heads left while I head right.
While Jack is making his way towards Wolf, I approach the bar where I hear three very out-of-place looking locals discussing that fact that they’re looking for someone … like me. At this point, my Electro Shock cell phone electrifies me. While I’ve got the phone part working okay, we’re still having issues with text messaging. Oh look, it’s a message from Paris. What’s this? There are ten bad guys here looking for us? Huh. Well, Wolf is here and there are three idiots standing next to me. Well, that leaves a whole lot of other bad guys still unaccounted for. (That’s called foreshadowing.)
Hmmmm, I rudely grab one of the girls sitting with their back to the locals who also have their backs to me. My attempt was, of course, to have the girls think that the guys did it, get mad and retaliate, thereby creating a distraction. Ah, the best laid plans. The stupid bitch has the audacity to slap me in the face. I know I should really turn my attention back to the potential hit men, but this is one insult that cannot be ignored so I deck her.
Unfortunately, this attracts the attention of the tree banditos who turn toward me in surprise. Well I can’t draw and hit all three and we all know the Sheila motto, “When All Else Fails, Hit ‘Em with a Beer Bottle”, so I pick a bottle up from the bar and smash it in a line, like performing a little glissando on the Tres Cabezas de Banditos. One goes down immediately; the other two are kind of surprised. I take advantage of their stunned silence to down the still standing two by smashing the bottle across their heads again. I’d forgotten how much fun this is!!!
Jack is still making his way towards Wolf.
Unfortunately, the slap/punch/beer bottle thing has attracted the attention of six more Banditos, three at each opening in the railing Jack and I first encountered. Fuck! The three closest me have a pretty good line of sight so I duck down and check the unconscious banditos for weapons, coming up with two pistols and a Tek-9. Awesome!
I stand and fire at the three closest bad guys. It takes two bursts to kill them all, but once they are down, I dive into the now screaming and swirling crowd.
The three banditos on the far side are firing at me and one manages to graze my head while another shoots my hair. That’s it. Enough play. There is blood in my hair and I don’t look good as a redhead.
I’d like to take those three out now, but I hear the sound of silenced gunshots from behind the bar. And I’m pretty sure those barely audible oofs belong to Jack (I’m kind of familiar with (and usually the cause of) that sound).
Behind the bar, Jack and Wolf are engaging in a shootout. Unfortunately for Jack, Wolf appears to be winning.
I use the pistol to shoot at the television over the bar, hoping for a spectacular diversion. Unfortunately, instead of fireworks, I get sparklers. There are some flames raining down but my bloodlust for an explosion is definitely not sated.
Realizing that he needs a better plan (doesn’t he always?), and seeing the sparks falling Jack shoots the liquor speed rack, drenching everything in alcohol and lights his Zippo lighter before sending it skidding past Wolf (where it goes out, surprise, surprise – remember, it was a Jack plan).
Since I am standing in the middle of The Shootout at the Cancun Corral, this seems like a good time for an inventory. I’ve got a bunch of pistols, a Tek-9, three men shooting at me, a bastard about to shoot my bleeding husband, a sparking television, a slight alcohol fume high, bodies falling everywhere and I believe I’ve just been shot in the arm. Time to get serious.
I manage to get to the opening in the bar and spot Wolf. I raise the Tek-9, prepared to come the aid of my little honey bunny, my Jacky Wacky, my wittle fwower. Forget absence, there’s nothing like the sight of your hubby bleeding in a Mexican bar surrounded by spilled liquor and shards of broken glass to make the heart grow fonder.
I put my game face on and start firing at Wolf until his head literally explodes.
The only thing left is to take care of the three banditos on the far side of the bar, which is, of course, no longer so far away now that I am at the bar. I use the Tek-9 on one and the pistol on the other. The remaining idiot (so called because he hasn’t had the sense to run away) goes down last.
Careful not to fall in Wolf’s brain bits and blood I step past his body and get to Jack.
Jack switches passports with Wolf (this means that Jack, the International Terrorist, had yet another identity and is dead … again) and I help him out the back door (after he retrieves his Zippo lighter) and we get out of there. I manage to get Cult and Squid to help us eventually locate Paris and company. We find out that they’ve had a dam good time!
Jack and Jean are enjoying their Morphine drips while I take Paris and Serafina for a facial and manicure using the now famous Midnight Marauder nail polish I imported all the way from Europe. And somewhere in Atlantic City, Rossi is yelling “Let It Ride!!!!!”
On a side note, I think these events have pointed out a real hole in our resources. I am now looking into buying a resort in the Caribbean. I am hoping Paris will agree to be a partner (and manage it since we all know that Jack and I suck at having a pleasant stay anywhere … including our own home). We’ll set it up as a sort of Sanctuary and networking point for logistical coordinators. Paris can use her contacts and cultivate her empire. The only thing Jack and I will want is a permanent room so we always have a place to stay. Oh yeah, and a nail salon on premises!