Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore

by Olivia Gaines

  She thanked him as he chivalrously pushed open the doors. A few minutes later, with a splash of water on her face, Odessa returned to her seat in the first-class cabin. Saxton was reading a copy of Latitudes, as she sat next to him and leaned in. A small kiss was planted on his cheek, then his ear, next his neck.

  “I like where this is going Mrs. Blakemore.” He kissed her back, first on her chin, her jaw and then each of her eye lids. His large hands looped into her hair, pulling her in closer for a much deeper kiss.

  “Seat 13G, next to the window, large man, snake tattoo on hand,” she accepted his kiss allowing it to deepen.

  Saxton pulled back a little, wiping the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, gazing deep into her eyes, “Three seats up on the left, snake. Four seats back on the right, snake.” He kissed her again and smiled, “The stewardess, in the back of the cabin,” he kissed her again, smiling at his wife with loving eyes, “snake.”

  Odessa ran her finger down the bridge of his nose, “I feel a Sam Jackson coming on, Saxton.”

  “No, Odessa,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh yes, Saxton,” she said as he pulled her in closer. She knew she shouldn’t, but she could not help herself, “Enough is enough! I am tired of all of these muthe...” Saxton silenced her words with his mouth, and she still managed to mumble out, “snakes on this muther... plane.”

  Even in the face of imminent danger, he loved her coping mechanism of humor. His major concern focused more on who the men belonged to that wore the viper tattoo. His next question leaned more so towards who gave the order to tail the Blakemores? The next question was how was he going to keep a watchful eye while his wife lost her mind in a shopping plaza?

  Chapter 6 – Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore

  Day One- Panama

  “Panama City is absolutely amazing,” Odessa told Saxton as she looked out of the window of the Bristol Panama Hotel, which was two and a half miles outside of the city. The hotel was the perfect choice for their stay, it was within walking distance of the City Centre, with modern amenities and a 4.5 star rating. Located on Avenida Aguilino De La Guardia, the room had a partial ocean view. It was a mid-sized hotel with only 118 rooms, the perfect cover for a romantic getaway or some shopping.

  The country of Panama itself, is a jewel in the Central American crown, as it is nestled between Costa Rica and Columbia. The resources to get any commodity in, out, or through a channel, is simplified with the shipping ports in Colon. The Pacific Ocean on the left and the Caribbean on the right, makes it a gateway to the open sea and open market. Agent Roget had been very clear on their assignment, “Do not engage. Just observe, take photos, and report back.” They could do that. All they had to do was a bit of shopping, attempt to purchase some rare commodities, and find out who was shipping arms. They could do this.

  There were many wonderful places to shop in Panama. Outside of real estate, indigenous handicrafts called Artesanía, is the number one item shoppers seek. Odessa was no different. The second stop would be the Mercado Nacional de Artesanías, in Panama Viejo next to the visitor center. Here, Odessa hoped to score a few molas, some Ngobe-Buglé dresses, and Emberá Indian baskets and masks, that she would ship back home.

  It had been a compromise. Initially, Odessa wanted to go to La Central, but when she boasted that it was a two-mile stretch of stores, Saxton claimed after the plane ride, they should do something a bit tamer on day one. With a camera hanging about his neck, his wallet secured in his right breast pocket, he added a small caliber weapon to his leg holster. She was excited about the shopping adventure but he touched her arm, caressing it with his index finger, which made her stand still.

  His eyes met hers, “Shopping is fun, but we have to remain safe. Someone knows we are here, and until we find out why we are being watched, we have to be observant.”

  She nodded her agreement. “Odessa, the same principles apply as we employed in Mexico, you watch my back, and I stare at yours.” She smiled at him.

  “You like watching my back don’t you, Big Guy?”

  “Hell, Odessa, I just like watching you. It is even better having you as my wife.”

  She kissed him hard on the lips, “You are a pretty fantastic husband too, Saxton.”

  “Remember, always keep your eyes open to what is happening around you. I will scan twelve to six, you keep an eye on six to twelve. Got it?”

  After spending enough time with Big Sarge, Saxton knew she understood the military lingo, using a clock face to divide the areas each were responsible to watch. Odessa was adorned in a large-brimmed sun hat, a palm-tree-covered sun dress, and a pair of comfy walking shoes. She and Saxton headed to the market. He looked rather dapper in tan linen pants, a soft blue island styled shirt and a beige Panama hat.

  They weren’t even in the marketplace for fifteen minutes before Saxton was approached by a teenage boy. The boy was eyeballing Odessa in a way that did not make Saxton feel on edge; he stepped in between the teen and the boy’s line of sight of his wife. “I see you like the young and exotic, Seňor.”

  Saxton did not like this kid. He resented it even more that the kid thought he was some kind of perv who liked younger women. It also somewhat hurt his pride that the kid assumed he was so much older than Odessa. Saxton looked over his shoulder, and she was face down, ass up in a pile of Indian baskets. So much for scanning her sector. “Yeah, I do,” he told the boy as he clicked the button on the camera to get a snap shot. By any untrained eye, the camera appeared to have the cover over the lens, but super-secret spy technology, as Saxton liked to call it, enable photos to be taken through the protective covering.

  “I know a place where you can get anything your mind can imagine, Seňor. In any flavor,” the boy told him as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. He had his attention, but Saxton knew it was a ruse. He looked back at Odessa again, who was haggling with a shop owner over a small piece of pottery.

  Odessa heard the voice before she spotted the man. “I know a better place to get those in bulk for your new business, if you are interested, Mrs. Blakemore.” Odessa turned to see the American business man she had met at dinner in Mexico at Renteria’s Villa. Her fingers slipped but he caught the vase with agile hands. She paid close attention to the left hand which sported the same viper tattoo, but his snake had red eyes. Saxton’s voice was within ear shot as he spoke to a young boy.

  Trying feebly to regain her composure, she spoke in a normal tone, “So good to see you again,” she paused, since she did not learn his name in Mexico.

  He extended his hand for a shake, “Henry. Henry Salinger.”

  A genuine, fixed smile was shared as she raised her voice a bit, “Ahh, Mr. Salinger.” Saxton turned a bit, clicked the camera, and waved at the business man. The brief eye contact he made with Odessa confirmed that she had the situation under control.

  There was no need to mince her words, “It must be a large gathering of the organization this week. I have seen many of your brethren.”

  Henry Salinger sat down the vase and looked at her with cold eyes. “You are far too clever for your own good, Mrs. Blakemore.”

  “When men follow you, Mr. Salinger, one must keep on their toes,” she told him as she picked the vase back up.

  “Just be careful, you don’t step on the wrong ones,” he tipped his hat to her and began to walk away. She called after him.

  “Mr. Salinger,” she said, “I am here to shop to get my business up and running. I have no interest in anything else.”

  Salinger understood it was a message to the cartel, his boss and anyone else in earshot, but the timing of the Blakemore’s arrival in Panama, alongside what was occurring in two days, and was far beyond a coincidence. Saxton walked over to stand beside her, slipping his arm around her waist.

  Salinger smiled at him, “You two do make a fetching couple. As it is said, ‘What God has joined together’.”

  Saxton finished the sentence for him, “No man shall ever put asunder.” It
sounded more like a threat to Salinger than anything, but the man did not falter as he tipped his hat once more, adding and “Good to see you both again.”

  The Blakemores stood on the sidewalk in the hot July sun staring at the figure as he walked away.

  “Saxton, what we have stumbled upon something that has all eyes on us,” she whispered into the air.

  “Yeah, Odessa, the thing is we haven’t come across anything yet, but whatever is happening here, it may be larger than Roget thinks.” Between the boy’s attempt to distract him and the sudden appearance of Salinger, Saxton knew there were much bigger fish on the counter. He just needed to make sure that he and Odessa were not next in the frying pan.

  Chapter 7- Who’s Following Whom?

  Day Two – Panama

  Saxton awoke and found his wife staring at him. “Morning, Mrs. Blakemore. Is it time for breakfast?” She was not smiling, just staring at him with some concern. “What’s wrong, Odessa?”

  “I am scared. I am not sure what Roget has gotten us into, but people are following us, the cartels know we are here, and I wonder if Delgado’s family are also here and looking to seek vengeance.”

  Gentle fingers caressed her cheek, “I have thought about all of those things as well, but I thought of something else.” He had her attention. “Since our new business has already been set up by our government and they have given you a credit card to purchase your initial inventory,” he leaned forward to pull her closer, “We can take the payment for this assignment and add a room addition to the house for Blakemore Imports and Collectibles.”

  A smile slowly crept across her face, but Saxton was still talking as he undid the buttons of her pajama top, lowering his head to a nipple that had hardened at the coolness of the air in the room, he ran his tongue across the taut bud. “Whatever is left over, I can use as a down payment on my new boat.”

  Odessa grabbed a handful of his hair and raised his head, “So, all of this, just for a down payment on a boat?”

  “No, Mrs. Blakemore,” he said and he lowered his head again to suckle at the exposed breast, “we are combining your two favorite things, shopping and traveling. This way, you can run a business from the comfort of our home, while having an excuse to travel the world and shop.”

  Her hand slipped into his boxers, taking in a handful of his morning eagerness, “I am combining my three favorite things,” as her other hand raked through his thick dark hair. “Time for breakfast Mr. Blakemore.”

  It was official. Saxton Blakemore felt he had died and entered the ninth realm of a hot, humid and sticky Hell. In this trap of eternal damnation resided his wife with a credit card, haggling with Spanish-speaking shop owners. Her Spanish was atrocious and she offended at least three shop owners—and the one basket-weaver she accidently called a cow.

  The morning chat had been intended to get her to relax a bit so he could focus on what he had been assigned to do, but this new-found energy to stock her business, had turned her into some form of shopping savant. In the midst of it all, he had purchased a rosary. As he sat in the corner, taking stock of all the people who were gathering to watch Odessa get a better deal, he snapped photos of the onlookers, concentrating on both the men and women’s left hands. Several times throughout the day, he began to notice the same men, circling them. It was as if they were working in shifts. This was good information.

  Lunch was a quiet affair with local cuisine of fresh fish with rice and empanadas. While they ate, Saxton noticed several new trucks moving throughout the streets. Pretending to play with his camera, he snapped a photo. What he found unusual about the trucks were they were all painted bright red without a logo or an insignia on the door. Some of the trucks were open-backed, but covered with a red canvas.

  Odessa looked up and froze. She smiled as she picked up her knife, but the way she held it told Saxton someone bad was coming up on them. Quick as a flash, she changed her posture, provided a smile to greet Victorio Rentería, who pulled out a seat and joined them at the table after planting kisses upon Odessa’s cheeks. “It is good to see you two are still together and enjoying the married life.” He turned down his lips as he raised his hand for the waitress to bring him a drink of Chicha de Papaya with a shot of tequila. He also ordered one for each of the Blakemores before removing his hat to hang it upon the knee of his crossed leg.

  Odessa remembered where she was and lowered her head back to her food, allowing the men to talk. “Saxton, my friend, you know Mateo still wants to kill you,” he sipped at the syrupy sweet drink the waitress had brought to the table for each of them, “He has purchased two new machetes, explicitly for the purpose of removing each of your heads.” He broke into laughter.

  “Seňor Rentería, you always know how to start a conversation,” Saxton told him. They chatted some more with Rentería confessing he knew Saxton was an agent. It was with mild humor that he explained, he used him to get the job done, “The product needed to get through, and it got through.” Rentería didn’t care if it got there on a pack mule or by whatever means; he had a delivery date, and it was delivered.

  Saxton toyed with his drink, “For some reason, I am not surprised to see you here, especially after I saw Salinger.” There was silence as Rentería rubbed the snake tattoo on his hand, the red ink on the eyes of the snake was fresh. Saxton asked boldly, “Are you the one having us followed?”

  Rentería ordered a second drink, “No, mi amigo, it is not I.” He paused, sipped the remainder of his drink, “I say this to you as a courtesy for Mrs. Blakemore.” He paused as Odessa looked up, “You two should be very cautious. There are some very bad people in this part of the world.” He noticed the gold ring on Odessa’s finger that had been selected from the basket by the children at his villa. “I see you are still wearing the ring.” He went into his pocket and pulled out ten $100 bills, “Saxton, buy the lady something nicer.”

  The look on her husband’s face was enough to make her speak up, “Seňor Rentería, I wear this ring as a reminder that it belonged to someone. A woman whose family is still hoping she walks through the front door. A woman whose life was taken from her, along with every ruined life that was represented in that wicker basket. Lives reduced to nothing more than a basket full of trinkets to be melted down to make something you can afford to buy six times over.”

  Saxton’s eyes were wide, but Odessa’s tone was low and non-confrontational. The answer Rentería provided amazed both of the Blakemores. “Did you know, Saxton, and Senora Blakemore, that I was educated in private schools in Switzerland? I did my undergraduate work at UCLA and received my MBA at Stanford.” Odessa wasn’t sure where he was going with this, “At the end of the day, I am running the family business.”

  He rubbed the irritated skin where the fresh ink had been applied to update his status with the organization, “I did not have a say as the eldest son. Unlike Saxton, as the eldest, I did not have had a choice to try something else with my life.”

  Saxton spoke up, “The oil business cannot be equated to what you sell and distribute Seňor Rentería.”

  “And why not?” he asked as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, “Your family has fed on America’s addiction to drive gas-guzzling vehicles; my family feeds on people’s addiction to cope with their inability to have what you have.” He paused, “You are boring into the earth to pull up what makes a profit. I am merely farming the land to harvest its bounty.”

  Odessa cleared her throat, “Pardon me, Seňor Rentería, I do not mean to step out of my place, but kidnapping is not harvesting the bounty of the land.”

  “It is, my beautiful lady, when the land is filled with too many breeders,” he rose, adjusted his shirt, and placed his hat back on his head. “I,” he said, “am merely a small rattle on a much larger serpent. Good seeing you both again.” He rose, bid good day and left.

  The mind is an amazing instrument. Although you can understand that the pot you are holding may be hot, it is the brain that tells you it
is burning your hand and to sit it down. The pot was being held by both the Blakemores, but it was taking a minute for each brain to register the heat. Even the thoughts, in their infancy, were growing exponentially, as twins, but separate ideas were being born.

  “Saxton,” she asked quietly, “do you think they harvested some of the people they kidnapped?” The money Seňor Rentería had placed upon the table, Odessa slid into her handbag. No need for them to be a bigger target.

  He ran his hands through his hair as he grappled with a sudden souring of his stomach, “Odessa, if he is just a rattle on the ass of the serpent, I am more concerned with the size of the damned snake.”

  Tomorrow would determine their proximity to the actual nest. Saxton was planning to tap the side of the basket and see if anything slithers out.

  Chapter 8 – Follow the White Lion

  Day Three – Panama

  La Central was a shopping mecca and every woman’s dream. Two nonstop miles of stores, shops, craftsmen, and low-cost merchandise. Saxton was having trouble focusing on what they were sent to do, because every man, woman, and child bored in on Odessa. This place was not safe. He had to get them out of here. Saxton made his way through the throng of people to extract his wife from pickpockets and pervs, when a small native Indian woman held up her hand to him. In one wave of her wrinkled arm, she parted the crowd who dissipated as quickly as they had formed. Odessa turn to see the old lady who snatched her arm and forced open her hand. Her eyes were milky with cataracts, her teeth were covered in years of plaque, and she scared Odessa, who looked to Saxton for assistance. The old lady eyed Odessa’s palms, “Ah, a black lioness with a heart to match.”

  A black lioness. Odessa looked closer at the woman and listened carefully. “The path you seek, you shall find, if you follow the white lion.” She released Odessa’s hand then turned to Saxton, “You must learn to trust her instinct while being unafraid to show her who you really are, Seňor Scorpion.”