Free Treaty Violation by Anthony C. Patton Page B

a serious mistake, but at least the spies listening in couldn’t record the meeting if he found the bug now. “Ouch!” he cried when his fingers slid across an exposed staple under the couch.
    Sheena, his gorgeous assistant, stepped out of the bathroom wearing a skintight cantaloupe colored dress. “What are you doing?”
    He jumped to his feet. “Nothing. I dropped my…watch.” He followed her eyes down to his finger and grabbed his handkerchief to absorb the blood. “Just a scratch,” he said.
    Sheena looked bewildered and approached him. Her eyes seduced him as she hugged him and kissed his neck.
    “You should go now.” He led her to the door. “Remember, this is our secret.”
    “Of course, Minister Hernandez,” she said, “I never tell anyone about our sex life. Your wife would get very upset.”
    Hernandez shook his head in amusement. He looked at the disheveled sheets in the bedroom and pulled the door shut. The plan also had been a perfect opportunity for an afternoon tryst. “I mean being in this room with me.” He held her and looked into her eyes. “Listen to me carefully,” he said. “We weren’t here today, understand?”
    Sheena nodded nervously.
    He kissed her forehead. “Good, now—”
    Two knocks interrupted him.
    “Listen to me carefully,” he whispered to her, “you’re my assistant. You’re here helping me with some important business matters.”
    Sheena nodded knowingly, probably because it was true.
    Two more knocks made his heart race. He cleared his throat. “Be right there,” he called. He reached for the doorknob and smiled at Sheena until she smiled back.
    “Welcome, Colonel Dupree,” Hernandez said, impressed to see the military man wearing a gray business suit, although it could have used some tailoring. “Come in,” he said and gestured to Sheena. “My assistant, Sheena, was just on her way out.”
    “Pleasure to meet you, Sheena,” Dupree said, assessing her body with a grin.
    Hernandez gestured to the couch. “Have a seat, Colonel.”
    “Mind if I use your bathroom?” Dupree asked.
    “Of course,” Hernandez said and gestured to the door. “I’ll call you later,” he whispered to Sheena with a wink and closed the door. “I’m glad you could make it, Colonel—oh, wait!”
    Dupree lifted his hand from the doorknob. “What?”
    “The bathroom,” Hernandez said, “is over here.” He opened the other door and gestured inside. “I’ll pour us a drink,” he added.
    Hernandez waited for the bathroom door to close before hustling into the bedroom. An American was involved, so he had to run things differently. The gringos didn’t understand the mistress concept. Two knocks interrupted him as he pulled the sheets flat.
    “Is somebody here?” Dupree asked from the bathroom.
    Hernandez scurried to the front door. He pulled Manuel Espinosa inside without a greeting and looked both ways to ensure no one had followed him.
    “Good to see you, too,” Manuel said sarcastically and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “I hope this is important.”
    Hernandez gestured to the couch. “Please, have a seat.” He took a deep breath to calm his nerves as Manuel sat and lit a cigarette. He focused his thoughts on the meeting, but the opening of the bathroom door broke his concentration.
    Dupree looked at Manuel. His eyes narrowed as he finished drying his hands. “Who the hell invited him?”
    “Please,” Hernandez said, “have a seat, Colonel.”
    Dupree sat on the couch, leaving an empty cushion between him and Manuel.
    Hernandez sat in his chair, which he’d positioned strategically to control the meeting, and crossed his legs. “Gentlemen, you’re probably wondering why I called you here today.” The plan was under way. He was the Minister of Foreign Affairs. His confidence returned. “Have you ever heard the expression, my enemy’s enemy is my friend?”
    The recruits nodded.
    “We have a common enemy,” Hernandez continued,