Chapter Twenty-eight
1900 horas
Piso de Hans y Juliana
17 marzo"This is insane!" Jim pounded his fists on the table in frustration. "We’ve told the police everything we know. They’ve contacted the U.S. Embassy and verified that we are who we say we are and that we’re from where we say we’re from. We’ve told them that two people are missing and what do these officers do? They refuse to let us even leave the building!"
"Jim, we’re all concerned, but flipping out will not help," Juliana smiled hesitantly at her cousin. "I’ll go talk with the police again and voice your concerns." Depositing Betje in Honey’s outstretched arms; Juliana went down the hall to Hans’ small office where he had been closeted with the Valencian police for quite some time.
The room where the Bob-Whites remained was enveloped in silence. Everything had passed in a blur during the last few hours. The peace and relaxation they had enjoyed in Sagunto had vanished when Sergio had appeared in the Valencia train station.
Within moments of Sergio’s collision with the bus, the police had descended on the train station. A witness had reported that Jim and Brian, along with some of the guardia, had been pursuing the victim.
The Spanish had been flying so quickly that none of the Bob-Whites could even begin to guess what was being said. In broken English, one of the soldiers had told Brian that there had been no identification on the dead man and the police wanted to know why American tourists had been chasing some man out of the train station.
With the help of the tattered dictionary, Brian had tried to explain to the police officer their involvement with Sergio. Finally the officer in charge had herded the Bob-Whites into a police van and taken them to headquarters. There they had found someone who spoke English and were allowed to call Hans.
A couple hours later, after convincing the city police that they had not been chasing Sergio with the intent to harm him, the Americans had been allowed to return to the piso on Aben Al Abar.
For the last half an hour, Hans had been discussing the happenings of the past few days with the police. Unsuccessfully the Bob-Whites had tried to explain their concern for the whereabouts of Trixie and Tony. They had tried to convince the police to have the officers in Sagunto check out the ruins, but they had had no luck.
"We need a plan." Mart’s comment caused all of the Bob-Whites to jerk back to the present. "We need a plan," he repeated, as he half-heartedly played peek-a-boo with Betje over Honey’s shoulder.
"What kind of a plan?" Brian asked as he unconsciously began to braid his hair, seemingly unaware that his actions contradicted the calm expression on his face.
Mart shrugged, "I don’t know – I just know we need one."
Silence reigned once again in the small room. All were thinking of the many tight spots they’d been in before – and how they’d managed to get out. But only once had they had to deal with a mystery on foreign soil – and that hadn’t involved a foreign language.
"At least Trixie is with Tony," Dan said quietly.
"That means she’s safe," Jim asked caustically.
"More so than if she were by herself," Dan replied neutrally and continued, "He’s a Spaniard, he obviously speaks the language, and he’s a trained Interpol agent."
"Dan’s right," Honey said, avoiding the anger and fear that she saw in her brother’s face. "Even if they somehow ran into one of Sergio’s cohorts, she should be a lot safer to be with him than if she were alone."
Reluctantly Jim agreed and sank back into a moody silence while the others discussed a plan of action.
"Maybe we should get a hold of Tony’s boss," Di suggested in a soft voice. "Wouldn’t the police listen to Interpol?"
"I’d like to hope so," Brian said grimly. "But they won’t listen to us when we try to tell them that a teenage American girl and a Spanish spy are missing, so I doubt that they’ll call Interpol when we ask them to."
"When Juliana comes back in here we can ask her to tell the police that we need to get a hold of Interpol," Honey said briskly, "Now, let’s see what we’ve got here."
The others looked at her in surprise.
"Um, Sis, what do you mean?" Jim asked with a slightly confused look.
"I mean that the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency is officially coming out of retirement and we need to get organized here." Honey’s eyes glittered with excitement. She laughed at the shocked looks on her friends’ faces. "You all don’t think that Trixie was the only one that really liked mysteries and liked to solve them, do you? If that were true my name wouldn’t be part of the Agency."
The other five Bob-Whites exchanged looks of varying degrees of astonishment. True, they all knew that Honey would follow Trixie into and out of mysteries, but she’d never taken the lead before…but then Trixie had always been there.
Not waiting for an answer, Honey reached for the sketchbook that Di had been using the night before. Without asking for permission, she turned to a blank page. "Anyone have a pen?" she asked, glancing at the group seated at the table with her.
Wordlessly Mart pulled a pen from his back pocket and handed it to her.
"Alright, let’s put down what we know so far," with her hand poised above the pad she looked at her friends once more. "Hello? Are we working on this together or what?"
"All for one and one for all is our motto, I believe," Brian said carefully. "I think that we’re just surprised to see this side of you."
"This ‘take charge and go at a mystery’ side of me," Honey responded with a tight grin, "Well, it took some time, but this side of me is ready for some action."
With that, the young Americans began to list everything that seemed important from what had happened to them since their arrival in Spain. Four separate men had pursued them at one point or another – two of which were now dead. The whereabouts of the other two were unknown. Trixie and Tony were missing – and had been for several hours. Their whereabouts were unknown also. Jim’s backpack had been stolen and returned – empty. An item from said backpack had been discovered at the ruins – the last known location of Trixie and Tony. The man Tony identified as Pedro, a dangerous young ETA agent, had stolen a second pack in the Plaza. Attempts had been made on the lives of almost every Bob-White. And the terrorists following them all were after a disc – which was odd because none of them had a computer with them.
1900 horas
Las ruinas de SaguntoA sharp kick to her right leg jerked Trixie awake. Dazedly she looked around to orient herself, a feeling of despair hitting her as she realized that it wasn’t a dream. A second kick brought her eyes to her captor.
"Your friends have killed Sergio!" Arabe practically screamed. "Not that he was a great asset, but he did have all the details of this mission."
Trixie began to ask him what he was talking about, then thought better of it and kept her mouth closed.
Arabe continued, "The police are saying nothing about it. Pedro has been keeping an eye on things in Valencia. Now we will do things my way. I will get what I was sent to get and leave this hopeless country."
Trixie’s eyes closed as she braced herself for the blow. Arabe swung his leg back to kick her again, only to find himself landing face first on the hard ground. Trixie’s eyes flew open and she saw Arabe lying flat with Tony kneeling over him. The ropes that had bound Tony’s ankles were on the ground by Arabe’s head.
"Quick, Trixie, can you move yourself over here?" Tony asked as he searched Arabe’s pockets with his good hand. "He won’t be out for long."
Painfully Trixie scooted across the rocky ground until her back was to Tony. With dexterity that amazed her, he untied her with one hand.
"Now, use these ropes and those on the ground and tie his hands. I’ll undo your feet in a minute." He grinned at her look of open amazement. "One handed is nothing. I could’ve done it with my teeth if I had to --," he shrugged, "training."
Trixie shook her head and went to work tying Arabe’s wrist together behind his back. As she finished he groaned and said something that she didn’t understand. Tony did however, and answered in the same language. Arabe growled and tried to get to his feet. Tony stood up and walked in front of Arabe. Pointing the gun at his face, Tony said, "I told you that you were not going anywhere." Arabe swore softly and lowered his head to the ground.
Returning to his position next to Trixie, Tony said, "Take this," and stuck the gun into her hands, "You won’t need to use it, just keep it on him while I untie your ankles."
Trying not to shake with fear, Trixie did as she was told. This was not one of her run of the mill adventures; this was a little more dangerous. Only a couple of times had she dealt with something of this proportion. When Tony was finished untying her, she gladly relinquished the gun and then tied Arabe’s ankles together. ‘I wish I had paid better attention to the knot tying lessons Jim and Uncle Andrew were giving Bobby over Christmas. Boy, would those come in handy right now,’ Trixie thought as she tried to make the ropes as tight as she could and the knots as difficult as possible. Tony had her tie a couple of different ropes around Arabe’s wrists – so it would take longer for him to get loose.
"I’m sorry, Tony, I don’t know how long these will keep him," Trixie said as she looked at the tangle that she had made of the lengths of rope.
"Don’t worry Trixie, I’ll buy us some more time," Tony replied grimly, "Turn the other way please."
Trixie’s eyes mirrored her surprise but she obeyed. Unconsciously she shivered as she heard a dull thud from behind.
"Okay, you can turn around," Tony said and pulled himself up from where he had been kneeling once again on the ground. "I didn’t shoot him, I just knocked him out."
Trixie straightened up. "I know you didn’t shoot him, I know a gunshot when I hear one. You just hit him over the head with the butt of your gun. I’m not stupid." Her fear was being replaced by indignation. Tony knew that and he was glad. She was going to need all the fire that she could muster up to get them both down from the ruins. All the energy that he had reserved during the afternoon was about spent after putting Arabe out of commission.
"Exactly, you’re not stupid. Which is why I’m glad that you’re here with me. I’m going to need your brains," he paused, "and your strength to finish this off." Tony smiled wryly. "It’s quite a trip down from here to the station and I may need to lean on you a bit."
"Oh my gosh! I forgot, your arm, how is it?" Trixie hurried to his side and looked at the blood stain on his sleeve. "Tony, this is too much blood, this isn’t good."
"It’s nothing," he said, trying to ignore yet again, the trickle of blood down his cool skin, "Let’s get moving."
2000 horas
Piso de Hans y Juliana"So this is what we have," Honey stated, signaling to the paper lying on the table in front of her. "This is all the information that we’ve got, all the clues." She placed both hands firmly on the table in front of her and looked up at her friends, "Now, we get started."
Jim was amazed at the resemblance she had to their father at the moment – his expression, worn during board meetings and business deals, superimposed over the features of their mother – it was disconcerting.
Before anyone could respond to Honey’s statement, the doorbell began to ring, and the ringer, not waiting for it to be opened, began to pound on the door. The Bob-Whites jumped to their feet and headed to the hall, arriving at the door right behind the Vorwalds and the police. With a nod from one of the officers, Hans opened the door.
"They should really install peep holes in the doors here," Mart muttered to Dan, only to be hushed by Diana.
"¿Puedo ayudarle, señor?" Hans asked the man that stood on the other side of the door.
In accented English the man answered, "Yes, you can. Where is my son?"
Chapter Twenty-nine
2000 horas
The group inside the apartment looked at each other. ‘His son?’ He must have the wrong apartment.
Hans began, "Sir, I’m sorry, but…"
The older man interrupted him, seeing the skeptical looks on the faces of the Bob-Whites and the others, "I’m Rafa Contreras, father of Tony. He missed his five o’clock and seven o’clock check-ins with his superiors about the status of his case. He also hasn’t checked on the information he requested this morning. There are Interpol officers on the way as we speak."
A stunned silence enveloped the group. Juliana was the first to find her voice. "Please come in. Let’s sit down and talk about what is going on."
Following her lead, the Bob-Whites, the Valencian police, Hans and Rafa Contreras returned to the living room.
Taking a deep breath, Rafa said, "Sorry for being abrupt. I do that when I’m worried. Tony never misses a check-in; that’s why we are all concerned. And he was supposed to check with headquarters early this afternoon on a source that was being brought in for questioning."
One of the officers asked Rafa a question in Spanish, with a withering look the older man answered sharply. The officer responded in a worried tone as he watched the expressions on the ex-intelligence agent’s face. Rafa shot back another comment in Spanish and the officer stood up. Turning to the Americans he bowed slightly and said, "We are no longer needed. It is above us now." His partner rose and the two left quickly, sped on by the searing stare of Rafa Contreras.
As the door closed, Juliana laughed. "I’m sorry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes, "It’s just that those two men have been difficult from the beginning and it was good to see them put in their place."
Rafa smiled slightly, "Most of Valencia’s police are excellent; some however," he shrugged, "And during fallas the good ones are either smart enough to take vacation or already involved in something." For the first time he looked closely at the group of Americans, "Wait, Tony said there were seven of you – where is the blond girl?"
"Trixie," Mart said softly.
"Yes, that was the name he said," comprehension came almost immediately, "She is with Tony, ¿no?"
Eight heads nodded in affirmation. One shook sadly, "This is not good at all then, is it," Rafa asked.
Once again, Honey took charge of the situation. "We last saw them at the ruins in Sagunto around noon. They were supposed to meet us at the local train station at two. When we got there a message saying that they had already taken an earlier train back was waiting for us. On the train we discovered that there hadn’t been an earlier train."
"And you’ve heard nothing from them since then?" Contreras asked, concern etching lines across his face.
"No sir. Nothing," Brian frowned as he thought about it. "We couldn’t even get the police to help us."
"The poli weren’t here because they are missing?"
Hans broke in, "No, they were here due to another matter that the kids were involved in this afternoon."
"Something that pertains to the case?" Rafa asked.
"Yes, about Sergio," Dan watched the older man’s face to see if the name rang any bells.
"Sergio," Rafa laughed ruefully, "That man was not cut out to be ETA – I don’t know how or why he ever got mixed up with them. What did he try this time?"
Soberly Dan continued, "He tried to approach us again as we arrived at the North Station, but when he saw all of us it was like something snapped and he ran out the doors."
Jim picked up the story here, "A few of us and some local military people ran after him. He kept looking back at us and didn’t watch where he was going and he ran right in front of a bus."
"He’s…"
"Yes, he died on impact. The police have been questioning us all afternoon and wouldn’t listen to anything we had to say about two missing people." Jim’s eyes grew angry once again as he thought about the go-round they’d had with the police for the past several hours.
"I told the police that this was a matter of national importance with international significance so that is why they left – I just assumed they were here because Tony was missing." Rafa shook his head, "I should know better than to assume."
Feeling that they needed to get back to forming some sort of plan, Honey asked, "Sir, did Tony fill you in on everything that we told him?"
"About your excitement since Mart was accosted in the airport to the latest incident in the Plaza yesterday after the mascleta? Yes, he did. We discussed it at length yesterday. I gave him the name of a contact that I used often in ingleterra and he called Scotland Yard early this morning to see if they could locate Bernard. That man usually knows what is going on in both the intelligence community and the terrorist community." Rafa stretched his legs out in front of him, careful to avoid Diana who was seated on the floor to his right. "The Yard called me about an hour ago wanting to know if he wanted the information they had gathered. A short while later his superiors called me and wanted to know what was going on because he had missed his check-ins."
"How did you know to come here," Diana asked.
"Tony had left this address by the phone for some reason, good thing that he did." Turning to Juliana he asked, "May I use your phone? I need to make a couple of phone calls so that people know where to go."
Hans showed him to his office where the phone was kept and then returned to the group in the living room.
"We still need a plan," Mart commented as Hans rejoined them. "We need to get to Sagunto and we need to do it quickly."
Everyone nodded in agreement except Honey, "We need a plan yes, and we need to get to Sagunto, but we need to work with the authorities now. These terrorists obviously are dangerous – and dedicated to whatever mission they are on. Two of them have died for it so far. They don’t seem above wasting human lives."
Several pairs of eyes were fixed on Honey as she spoke. None of them had looked at it that way.
* * *
On a hillside in Sagunto
"Okay, I think we’re far enough from him now, we can call." Tony’s words were labored, as was his breathing. Trixie looked at him in concern. It was chilly up on the hillside at eight o’clock at night and he was shivering; yet he was sweating profusely. She didn’t think that was a good sign.
"Trixie, can you get the mobíl from my pocket?"
Shaking her head in confusion she asked, "Your what?" She had been afraid that with the trauma to his arm and the blood loss, he might get light-headed, but now he was making no sense.
With the first smiled he’d been able to make in hours, Tony replied, "Mobíl – cell phone. We say that they are mobile because they are – you can take them with you."
"Oh," she responded as she extracted the small folded plastic case from the left pocket of his jeans. Arabe had taken the phone, along with Tony’s gun when he had captured them that afternoon. When they had turned the tables on Arabe a little while earlier, Tony had retrieved his possessions. He had wanted to wait until they were some distance away from where they had left Arabe before he had taken the time to use it to call for help. It had taken them over half an hour to reach the open-air theater they had rested at that morning with the Bob-Whites. That morning - it seemed like years ago. Trixie knew that Tony was hurting badly and that he was concerned also about the amount of blood he had lost, but he wouldn’t say anything and kept moving.
Angry words from Tony brought Trixie back to reality. She looked over at him and saw his face creased in anger, frustration and pain. Cocking his good arm back, he threw the phone of into the bushes.
Hearing her gasp, Tony spoke in English, "The battery, she is dead. The idiot left it on all that time. It won’t help us so I threw it away."
Biting her tongue to not say something sarcastic, Trixie said only, "Oh."
Tony laughed. "You are thinking I’m going crazy on you? Just frustrated. We must move on now. It is after eight o’clock. We need to catch the train to Valencia."
Softly Trixie said, "Maybe Hans and the others will be waiting for us at the station…"
"For some reason, there is no search for us, I think," Tony said slowly. "They have the equipment for night searching here, but no one has looked for us, that means no one has been told we are missing."
They looked sadly at each other and sighed. Trixie had been afraid that no one was looking for them and Tony had just confirmed her fears. Oh, to be sitting at Hans and Juliana’s laughing at a dubbed episode of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" or "The Cosby Show" with her friends. Did they realize that she was missing or did they just think she and Tony had decided to go do something without the rest of them? Jim would be furious.
* * *
Honey smiled grimly. Now they had their plan. They had had to wait for the Interpol agents to arrive from…wherever…and then review all the events of the day and the previous days down to the last detail. When Agents Calderón and Francis (representing Spain and England respectively) were satisfied with their explanations, they had then shared what the source in England had told authorities.
Bernard, a man that often played both sides of the law, had been found and brought in for questioning. Rafa Contreras had suddenly recalled the man as a source he had sometimes used when desperate for information involving the IRA and told Tony to have him checked out. Upon interrogation, Bernard had gleefully confessed that he had compiled a list of names and then planted said list on someone in the Bob-White’s group. He wouldn’t say in what form the list was, or on whom he had planted it. He would only say that terrorist organizations and world governments would all kill for the list. People in London were still working on getting more information out of Bernard.
This had done little to alleviate the fears of the Bob-Whites concerning Trixie and Tony. Honey had been afraid that the agents would want to search their belongings right then and there to see if they could come across the list, but had been relieved immensely when Rafa had jumped in and said that what was priority now was finding Trixie and Tony. Within fifteen minutes two additional Interpol agents had arrived and the group had been split into subgroups. Tony’s father and Brian were going to go by car to Sagunto and head to the ruins. Agent Francis and one of the new arrivals, Agent Garcia of Madrid, were also going to Sagunto, but to check the train station. After a short debate, Dan decided to go with them. Jim and Agent Yepes of Cartagena, the other newly arrived agent, were going to wait at the Valencia station and check every southbound train. The rest were going to wait at the piso for any phone calls or arrivals. ‘Yes,’ Honey thought, ‘this is how Trixie and I will need to be when we have our agency, organized and with a thought out plan.’
* * *
"Tony," Trixie tried to keep the worry out of her voice, but felt she was doing a poor job, "Tony, why don’t you take this sweatshirt. I’m warm enough without it." She hoped he didn’t notice her shivering with it on, or he wouldn’t consider taking it from her. She couldn’t help but notice how he was trembling, from cold or shock or pain she wasn’t sure, even though once again his face was covered in perspiration. And his coloring was not good. She’d seen enough people hurt to know what was a healthy appearance and what wasn’t. Tony definitely fell into the not healthy category.
She wasn’t sure what time it was, but it had to be after nine. It had been pitch black on the trail down the mountain. She hadn’t been sure how they would get down to the city without a flashlight. Once it had gotten totally dark, Tony had grabbed her arm and said he was going to hold on to her so that she wouldn’t go wandering off the trail and get hurt. She knew that was only a surface reason for holding on to each other. If he hadn’t had something to hold on to, Tony would be lying somewhere up on the side of the hill. And if she hadn’t had someone to hold onto she’d be sitting alone in the dark not knowing where to go next.
They had had to stop several times to rest. Trixie had reached a point where she could tell by Tony’s breathing when they needed to stop. The second time they had stopped Tony had surprised her by telling her he was going to pray. That had seemed out of character for her preconceptions of an international spy.
Though he hadn’t been able to see her face, Tony had known she was surprised. With a half smile that she was unable to see in the darkness, he had said a quiet and brief prayer. He had prayed quickly in Spanish for a way to get down off the hillside safely. At least he had gotten that far in his lessons with Waxter and Swing – he knew how to pray.
That had been their next to last stop. Trixie had been amazed when a few moments after Tony’s prayer the trail had been bathed in a soft glow. She had turned to him in surprise and he had responded softly, "Ask and ye shall receive."
Not sure if she wanted to agree with him or put down as luck the shifting of clouds that had covered the almost full moon, she continued walking down the path, supporting him in silence. The sooner they reached the city the better.
Chapter Thirty
Sagunto
"Necesitamos coger el tren, ahora."
Trixie turned in surprise; Tony hadn’t spoken at all for the last half-hour as they had followed the winding streets down from the ruins. His voice was low and harsh and he gasped for breath. She knew that he was in pretty bad shape. She had a feeling that what he had told her was a "surface wound" from the gunshot was actually more serious than that.
"What was that Tony? English please."
"Necesitamos…" he shook his head as if to clear it and then winced in pain as he jarred his arm. "We need to catch train. Now."
"I know, Tony," Trixie responded quietly, ‘I know. Arabe won’t stay up there forever. In fact he’s probably on his way down here now.’ She shivered slightly.
"Can’t do it," Tony muttered.
"Can’t do what?" Trixie asked, puzzled.
"Get tickets. No strength," his eyes closed and he slumped down on a bench outside of the station.
"Get tickets? You mean you want me to get the tickets?" Trixie’s voice was incredulous. There was no way!
Tony’s slight nod confirmed her guess.
"But, Tony, I can’t. They don’t speak English in there. I don’t speak Spanish. I’ll help you in…" her voice trailed off as Tony slowly opened his eyes.
"You can."
"I don’t speak Spanish," she murmured.
"No importa, you can do it."
Frightened blue eyes met frightened hazel eyes.
Trixie’s eyes begged, ’Please, Tony, please, get us out of this.’
Tony’s eyes radiated confidence. Again he said, "Trix, you can do this."
She opened her mouth to reply and realized that all she was doing was whining, something even Bobby had pretty much outgrown by now. Silently she nodded, accepting reality.
Tony reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out some crumpled bills. He handed Trixie one with 1.000 ptas. written on it. "Two to Valencia…dos a Valencia."
Trixie tried to smile as she took the money. Tony squeezed her hand, squeezed it until she finally met his eyes. He smiled weakly and whispered, "I believe in you." Then he closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench to wait.
Wondering at the phrase, Trixie hurried into the station. The woman at the ticket counter eyed her curiously. Trixie guessed she looked pretty scary right now. Bruised and scrapes, blood stains, dirty and frightened. Taking a deep breath she thought, ‘Okay, Belden, you can do this. Tony thinks you can, he believes in you and well, if you don’t do something Arabe probably won’t be as nice the second time he catches you.’
Forcing a smile she tried to say casually, "Dos a Valencia." Her voice was shaky, but otherwise okay.
The woman behind the window said something in response.
Trixie smiled again and repeated, "Dos a Valencia," and slipped the mil pesetas under the window. Her smile wavered as the woman spoke again with a concerned expression. Hesitantly she said, "English."
The ticket woman nodded and said something else, in Spanish of course.
Trixie groaned and shook her head. She was getting no where. She looked at the sign announcing departures and arrivals. She saw Valencia and the time 2220 horas posted. With some quick mental math and a glance at the clock on the wall by the departure board she saw that she had about five minutes to get Tony on the train.
"Dos a Valencia," she said for the third time, trying to ignore the desperation she could hear in her voice, yet hoping that it would convince the woman to give her the tickets.
"Dos a Valencia," the woman repeated as she slid the two tickets under the glass, "Te queda cinco minutos."
"Yeah, uh, sí, gracias," Trixie replied as she grabbed the tickets and ran out the door. Between the clock and the word she had understood from the woman’s last sentence, Trixie knew that she had five minutes to help Tony board the train and she wasn’t sure if that would be enough time. ‘Tony, I sure hope you’re saying one of your prayers, ‘cause we really need all the help we can get right now.’
As she approached the bench she drew in her breath sharply. Tony’s natural olive complexion had a grayish tinge to it and his eyes were closed. She could see that the blood from his wound had seeped through the rough bandage Arabe had put on it, and also the sweatshirt that she had made him put on. The closer she got, the harder she looked at him. For a minute it didn’t look as if he was breathing. Then she saw his chest rising slowly as he took shallow breaths. Relief flooded her entire body and she released her suppressed breath slowly.
* * *
"There, that should make you comfortable for a minute," Trixie muttered as she adjusted a pillow behind Tony’s head. The seats in the train weren’t the most comfortable for sleeping when you felt fine, they were even worse when you were in pain. She had leaned him against the side of the train by the window so that he wouldn’t fall into the aisle if he lost consciousness again. Luckily he had been conscious long enough to get on the train and find an empty car. No one else had entered that car and Trixie hoped that it would stay that way. From what she remembered from the morning’s trip, there hadn’t been many stops between Valencia and Sagunto. And the trip had only lasted about half an hour. She hoped that they would be in Valencia by eleven.
She sat up straight as she heard the airlock on the door release and someone enter the car. Her heart raced and her hands began to shake. She didn’t want to turn around, afraid of whom she would see there.
"Billetes, por favor."
Trixie turned and let out a sigh of relief. It was only the conductor. She’d been terrified that it would be Arabe, somehow catching up with them.
Carefully, so as to not jar Tony’s arm and yet still keep the blood-stained sleeve from been seen by the man waiting for the tickets, Trixie pulled the two cardboard rectangles from her pocket and hand them over.
The conductor punched the tickets, nodded and gave them back to Trixie. As he left the car and headed back the way he had come, Trixie let herself relax. They were moving along nicely and no one should bother them before they arrived in Valencia.
Slowly she felt the tension leave her muscles. The rhythm of the train began to soothe her. ‘Sleep sounds so good,’ she thought, then caught herself with a mental jerk. She couldn’t fall asleep! If she fell asleep and Tony stayed unconscious who knew where they’d end up. With the way their day had gone so far, they’d probably wake up in Portugal.
Hearing a soft moan at her side, Trixie turned to Tony. His face was creased in pain, but his eyes remained closed.
"Tony. Tony, do you hear me?" Trixie pleaded.
No response came from the Spaniard, just shallow breathing.
Forcing herself, Trixie checked Tony’s arm. The blood was beginning to seep through the heavy sweatshirt, not just stain it. Cautiously she put her finger to the dark red spot and brought it away wet. If she didn’t get a better bandage on him soon…she didn’t want to think about what could happen.
Trixie looked around the car in vain for something to use as a bandage. Too bad train cars didn’t come equipped with first aid kits like school buses did. The only thing she saw was the pillow behind Tony’s head. There were no others around. She had found that on the floor under their seats when they’d entered. The conductor must have overlooked it when he had checked the car in Castellon.
Staring at her hands with feelings of desperation sweeping over her Trixie focused on the now dirty cuffs of her tee shirt. The sleeves were long. A light bulb came on in her mind as she formulated an idea. She could rip the sleeves off and use them for bandages. But how was she going to get them off while still wearing the shirt?
"I guess I’ll just have to take it off," she whispered. For a moment she thought about going into the restroom at the end of the car, but tossed out that idea. She didn’t want to leave Tony unattended, nor did she want to be alone either. She looked closely at Tony. He hadn’t changed expression or position in the last several minutes. She should be okay. With a resigned sigh she turned her back on Tony and faced opposite side of the car.
‘What would Moms say?’ she asked herself as she pulled the long sleeved Henley tee shirt over her head. She shivered as the cool air came in contact with her skin. ‘What would Jim say,’ was the next unbidden thought in her mind? Yes, what exactly would Jim say if he knew she was sitting alone with Tony in a train and she was wearing only her bra? She didn’t want to go there. But she was fully clothed otherwise and Tony was unconscious. And it was all for the good of someone else – kind of like the closing scene in The Grapes of Wrath, but she wouldn’t go that far.
"Alright girl, quit philosophizing and get the sleeves off and the shirt back on!" she told herself sternly. With the help of her teeth, Trixie was able to tear the sleeves off of her tee shirt. "Cheap Wal-Mart clothes," she muttered, "Good thing I didn’t get it at Target or it would’ve been a bit more difficult."
When the two sleeves were lying in her lap, she pulled what was left of the shirt back on. That felt much better. Turning to Tony she saw that he hadn’t changed at all. It was going to be hard to get that sweatshirt off of his arm enough to bandage the wound.
"Here goes nothing," she said and began to carefully pull the heavy material away from his arm. After the second tug Tony was conscious and had to bite his lip from screaming in pain.
"What are you doing?" he cried.
Groaning, Trixie responded, "I’m trying to bandage your arm so you don’t bleed to death before we get to Valencia. Can you help me a little here?"
Between the two of them they were able to get the sweatshirt off of his left arm and should so that Trixie could bandage it. Carefully she wrapped the sleeves around the wound; not removing the blood soaked wrapping that was already there. She had thought about removing the dirty rag that Arabe had haphazardly, but upon seeing the wound, changed her mind. Let the doctors in Valencia deal with that. As she wrapped the second sleeve around Tony’s arm, she realized that she had nothing to secure them with. Thinking for a few seconds, she remembered that she had a couple of clips in her hair, holding back some of the unruly curls that were growing out. Quickly she slid them from her hair and secured the sleeves.
"Well, it’s not as good as a doctor, but it should help some," she said, forcing a cheerful tone to her voice. "I’m glad that I took first aid last summer."
Tony knew what she was trying to do and he was grateful. He forced himself to smile, "No kidding. If you hadn’t taken a class you might have used your whole shirt."
Blushing, Trixie glanced at her new "tank" top. She was still modestly covered, but a little out of place for mid-March. "Well, they did teach us a lot about emergency first aid and making due with what you have in tight situations."
"You should wash your hands," Tony commented, as his eyes began to close. "People might ask questions if they see the blood."
"I don’t want to leave you here alone," Trixie cut in.
"I’ll be fine. Arabe couldn’t have caught up with us. Clean up."
Reluctantly Trixie walked to the bathroom at the end of the car to wash up. She tried to avoid the mirror above the sink because she knew her face was not a pretty sight right now. After scrubbing Tony’s blood from her hands, she forced herself to look in the mirror. If she hadn’t been beyond caring and thought it would do her any good, she would’ve burst into tears. Her face was dirty and tear-streaked. There was a dark bruise on her right cheek where Arabe had repeatedly slapped her trying to get some information from her. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest with twigs and dried grass woven among the curls. She thought about cleaning herself up a bit with a paper towel and ice cold water in the sink. Before she could act on the thought the voice of the conductor came over the speaker. Everything seemed garbled except for one word: Valencia. Finally, they were back.
To Be Continued