A story about a Mexican intelligence agent who has to team up with his rival in order to fulfill his duty. And about this rival-agent from the CIA, who has his own secrets.
...
After a long and exhausting day at work, Elias felt relieved when he finally came back home. He was especially glad that he had submitted his report. Despite his diligence, paperwork was clearly not on his list of favorite activities.
He threw his briefcase on the couch, plopped down on it and took out his "new identity". The passport still smelled of freshly printed paper, but it seemed completely real. To some extent, it was real, considering that this name was added to all the necessary databases, both national and international. The CIA worked surprisingly fast, though.
"Well, hello, Mateo Torres!" said Elias, addressing his passport. "Let's do a great job!"
If Elias wanted to, he could use his new identity to hide even from the CNI and live as an ordinary civilian. However, he would be tracked down quickly. And his strong sense of duty to his country would not allow him to do so anyway.
Gathering his thoughts, Elias reluctantly got up from the comfortable couch and went to the bedroom to prepare for tomorrow.
Since he had to travel under the identity of a civilian, he certainly couldn't carry any weapons and equipment. Therefore, his list of things for the trip was the most typical. And, as usual, he didn't plan to take much with him, just a small carry-on baggage. In case of an emergency, he could always purchase the necessary things on the spot.
After packing quickly enough, he made sure he had not forgotten the most important thing - his new phone registered to "Mateo Torres". Such details were crucial for undercover work.
Elias checked everything once again and went to the shower. He carefully removed all the band-aids from his face and body so he could put on new ones later. Then, he undressed and took off his gloves with obvious pleasure. His hands were sweating a lot in them, but he couldn't go out without wearing them.
The warm water stung the still-healing wounds on his skin, but it also helped to relax his muscles and clear his mind of unwanted thoughts. He scrubbed his old scars on his hands especially hard, as if trying to wash them off. After about fifteen minutes, he finished and stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed.
The young man wrapped his body in a towel and stood in front of the mirror. He carefully applied band-aids to the visible wounds. He then brushed his teeth, put on his underwear and went to bed.
The evening was stuffy and hot, and he knew it would only get hotter at night. So, he decided to turn on the air conditioner to cool the room a bit.
Already lying in bed, Elias reached for his medication on the nightstand. He took several pills at once and washed them down with a big gulp of water. He never managed to fall asleep without pills. He didn't even try anymore.
And this time, even after taking the pills, he still couldn't fall asleep easily. The scars on his arms were itchy. He found it difficult to restrain himself from tearing his skin off.
His PTSD manifested itself not only in obsessive thoughts, but also in frequent physical sensations. These sensations were difficult to describe as pain, but they caused him great discomfort. When they overwhelmed him, he felt as if he was being absorbed by them.
The medicine soon did take effect, and Elias finally fell asleep. During the first phase of sleep, he slept peacefully and dreamlessly. But, as luck would have it, the blissful emptiness of his mind was replaced by nightmares.
These nightmares continued to flash through his restless mind every night, tormenting him for over a year now.
The same horrific scene was deeply etched into his subconscious. A tiny, terribly dark room. It was unbearably stuffy, and there was a constant damp smell. And every time there was another smell, incomparable to anything and that Elias would never forget: the stench of rotting, decaying human flesh.
Tied to a chair and semi-delirious most of the time, he only occasionally regained consciousness from the severe pain of wounds and bruises all over his body. When he did, he was horrified by the stench, which grew stronger and more distinct every day. And he realized that he could not escape from it.
When he happened to catch sight of the source of that stench, he was unable to restrain the urge to vomit. It seemed to him that the insects swarming in the dead body in the corner of the room might eventually get under his skin.
It was only after the loud sounds of gunfire and the screams echoing outside the walls that the smell disappeared.
In a cold sweat and trembling all over, Elias suddenly woke up. The gunfire still seemed to ring in his ears. Trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart, he slowly looked around the room. It wasn't the first time he had this dream, and it was very unlikely to be the last.
"It's okay, everything is alright ... It's all in the past. I'm home now, I'm safe," he whispered to himself, trying to calm down.
But he could still smell the distinct and so very real stench of decay lingering in his nose.
***
Agent Morales, or rather now scientist Mateo Torres, caught a taxi and headed to the Benito Juarez International Airport, the largest in the country.
Upon his arrival, he inevitably met with a bustling crowd of civilians leaving the country and arriving in it. After taking his suitcase out of the trunk and pulling its handle out, he adjusted his gloves by habit. It was as if he wanted to cover his whole body with them.
As Elias walked through the airport hall, he followed his professional instinct and carefully examined people and their baggage for anything suspicious. Fortunately, his keen eyes didn't spot any criminal elements in the busy airport full of people.
On his way to the check-in desk, he passed two police officers with a dog on a leash. The stately, big Belgian Shepherd dog walked steadily ahead of the officers, as if it was leading them.
The dog, due to its professional capacity, was diligently sniffing for anything that might pose a threat to the safety of citizens. But today its keen sense of smell detected nothing dangerous. Obviously, this dog was as dedicated to its duty as Agent Morales himself.
After taking another look at the uniformed officers, Elias smiled. The men in uniform always reminded him of his father. Every time he saw them, he hoped that their uniforms would not become their funeral clothes. Like in the case of his father, the diligent detective Fernando Olvera, who died in the service more than ten years ago.
Agent Morales put his melancholy thoughts aside and, after checking in, headed to the departure area.
Forty minutes later, he was on the plane looking at the cloudless blue sky through the window. He had the feeling that he could easily fall asleep now. But he wouldn't let himself do it, for fear of having nightmares again.
Five and a half hours later, Elias stepped out of the terminal at Dulles International Airport and onto the streets of a city he knew well enough.
Washington D.C. How long had it been since the last time he was here?
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