Book 2: Episode 2

Blue Mat Academy, Mexico City, Mexico

“Jesus Christ, Ping Pong!  You can’t use Kani Basami!” 

Neil Harris walked over from his exercise mat to where his wife was lying on her mat grinning.  Strangely, the man who she had been sparring with, a “capitán de fragata” or commander in the Cuerpo de Infantería de Marina (Marines) was grinning also.  Harris sighed.  Marines were marines everywhere, he supposed.

The commander got up, offered Nancy a hand up and walked over to Harris, still grinning.  “It’s fine, Admiral.  I asked Señora Harris to show me.  The cartel, they don’t fight fair, si?”

Ping Pong smacked her husband on the shoulder.  “Don’t get all admiral on me, hon.  You asked me to get to know the locals, well we are getting to know each other.  Right, Carlos?”

“Absolutamente, Señora Harris.”

“Stop calling me that, Carlos.  Makes me look around for my mother.  Call me Nancy.  If you can’t do that, just call me Ping Pong.”

“Ping Pong?  Is that an American nickname?”

Harris laughed.  “No, it’s her call sign.  Pilots are like that.”

Ping Pong laughed again.  “There are naval aviators I have known for ten years and I only know their call sign, not their real name.”

Harris shook Commander Bustamante’s hand.  “Well, thanks, Carlos.  Ping Pong gets restless being an embassy wife, she’s used to commanding her aircraft and being in the action.”

Bustamante’s eyes widened.  “She served in the war?”

Ping Pong just shook her head and Neil answered.  “Sure, that’s how we met. She was commanding a P-8 when the shit went down.”

Bustamante laughed out loud.   “Yes!  I have seen the movie.  Of course, I should have realized who you were.”  He looked back over at Ping Pong.  “You are much more beautiful than the actress who played you, Señora Harris.”

Ping Pong punched Bustamante in the shoulder.  “Carlos, if we are going to be friends you need to cut that out.  I did my job, just like Neil did.”

“You must come to dinner!  My wife would love to meet you both.  Please, it would be my honor to host you.”  The American couple both looked doubtful.  “No, please.  I cannot tell you how boring it is to be assigned to SEMAR here in Mexico City.  Six more months until I join my unit in the FES again.”  Similar to the way the US Navy worked, there was a four-star admiral in charge of SEMAR (Mexican Navy).  Like American admirals, they liked to have smart, competent people around them.  In this case, the commander was from FES, a special operations team within the Mexican Marine corps famous for their anti-drug operations.  “My daughter would especially love to meet you.”

Neil looked at his wife, who answered.  “Well, I can’t disappoint your daughter, can I?  I would love to meet her.”

“Excelente!”

Much later, after the largest meal she had ever eaten, Ping Pong was sitting with a small glass of tequila in the walled courtyard of Bustamante’s house.  She normally wasn’t much for tequila, but this tasted more like a cognac.  Bustamante came out a few minutes later with a glass of his own.

“Your husband is really great with kids.  I think both of mine want to join the US Navy now.”

Ping Pong laughed.  “Yeah, Neil comes from a big family.  I think that’s why he made a good captain.  Father to his sailors and all that.”

“Ah, yes, I can see that.”  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warm fall air.  “Do you enjoy the añejo?”

Ping Pong took another sip,  “Is that what this is?  I thought it was tequila.”

Bustamante laughed.  “Yes, it’s añejo tequila.  Aged for at least one year.  One año.  It means ‘aged’ or ‘vintage’”.  He took another contented sip.  “If I may ask, why did you leave the Navy?  Didn’t you enjoy your career there?”

Ping Pong looked down at her drink.  “After the war, I was moved off active flying status.  I got pulled into the congressional hearings about the start of the war and all that.  After six months out of the cockpit, I decided to turn in my papers and retire.”

“So, unlike your husband, you are a warrior at heart.  You enjoyed the action.”

Ping Pong gave Bustamante a long hard look.  “Yes, I was good at it, and I liked it.   What’s wrong with that?”

Bustamante gazed back, unflinching.  “Nothing is wrong with that, Señora Harris.”  He toasted her with his glass.  “Nothing at all wrong with that.”