Free JET V - Legacy by Russell Blake Page B

we’ve stopped has been spotless by Thai standards.”
    “By Mexican standards, too. Wait till you cross the border. Have you ever been?” Jet asked.
    The waitress arrived with their drinks and deposited them before turning to take another order at one of the tables across from them.
    “Years ago. At least twenty.”
    “Wow.”
    “You probably hadn’t been born yet.”
    “Tell me what it was like back then. Did they have electricity? Did everyone ride horses? Were you raised in a mud hut?” Jet teased, taking a sip of her drink – something red with a fruity name.
    “It was primitive. People listened to music on these disks called CDs, and the former vice president still hadn’t invented the internet, so people still talked to each other. And cell phones were becoming a big deal – but they didn’t do anything but call other phones. It was like living in caves,” Matt explained.
    “Wow. Had they invented Viagra yet?”
    “They were dark times, young lady,” he intoned solemnly, taking a pull on his artisanal beer. “No joking matter. There was no reality TV, and it could take hours to get a message to someone. You would actually have to write something and put it on a scanner and then send it across phone lines using a primitive device called a fax machine.”
    “I think I saw one of those in a museum, next to the stone axes.”
    They were interrupted by an elaborately coiffed server carrying their meals, which he placed on the table with a flourish before automatically asking whether they would like anything else. Jet shook her head and the young man threw her a wan smile and then sashayed away to care for other diners.
    “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? I mean no matter where we are in the world now, technology is there. Even in the jungles of Laos or Myanmar, you’ll see a smuggler with an iPod,” Matt said, taking a taste of his chicken. “Wow. This is pretty good.”
    “And there’s a lot of it, I see. Do they make the chickens here lift weights or something? That looks like a turkey breast in cheese sauce. It’s the size of your head,” Jet said, then took a bite of her soft taco.
    Dinner passed with agreeable banter, Jet and Matt enjoying each other’s company, already easy together, as if he hadn’t just reappeared from the dead after many months of absence. When the bill came, he paid it and then they strolled down the street, Jet clasping his arm, as naturally as if they’d been an item for years.
    “I called Hannah earlier. Everything’s fine. I told Magdalena I’d be back soon. She seemed relieved,” Jet said as they watched ostentatious luxury cars glide by, tinted windows safeguarding the occupants’ anonymity.
    “I would be. Everyone’s been through a lot. Ferry explosions, attacks, manhunts…it’ll be good to get home, won’t it?”
    “It’ll be good to get back to Hannah. But home? I’m not sure where that is anymore. We can’t stay in Uruguay. We’ll need to move someplace else and start over again.”
    “You keep mentioning Argentina. I heard there were pretty dramatic economic problems there,” Matt said.
    “There are. But if you have money, it’s a great place to live. It would just suck to have to try to earn a living or run a business.”
    “Ah. Which you don’t have to do.”
    “Exactly.”
    “And is it safe?”
    “Depends on where. Mendoza is incredible, from what I’ve seen, and seems extremely quiet. Maybe not Buenos Aires – there’s a lot of poverty, and it’s a massive city. I suppose that’s more like asking if New York or Paris is safe – it would depend on what part.”
    The ride to the motel was short, the evening traffic light, and they sat side by side in silence, tired after the cross-country jaunt. When they arrived, Matt walked Jet to her room and then hesitated. Jet stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, her full lips soft and yielding, and the moment stretched into a minute before they pulled apart.
    “Good night, Matt. Sleep