Loup looked at Pilar.
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Yeah,” Loup said. “We’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Lindberg beckoned to their blushing waiter, who tripped over his feet several times and stammered in Spanish before accepting the proffered credit card. “My God! What ails that boy?”
Pilar smiled sidelong at Loup. “You do, baby.”
“You know,” Sabine said to her in a silken, poisonous tone, “you still have to make it through the training. It is very, very difficult.”
“She will,” Loup said mildly.
Magnus Lindberg dabbed his lips with a napkin. “I am hoping that is the case. But we will see, will we not?”
“Yeah, we will.”
TEN
The limousine took them to the airport.
“Wow.” Pilar gazed at the thatched buildings. “Airports in the movies are a lot bigger.”
“Most are,” Magnus Lindberg assured her. “We will change planes twice, once in Mexico City and once in Paris.”
“How come Paris?” Loup asked. “Isn’t that in France? I thought we were going to Scotland.”
“Yes,” he said patiently. “But there is no direct flight. Because flight departure times vary, sometimes the quickest route is not always the shortest.”
“Huh.”
Sabine muttered something in a foreign language.
“They will learn,” Lindberg said to her in a reproving tone. “It’s not their fault they grew up in isolation.”
An hour and a half later, they were on the plane. Loup listened to the turbo engines whine to life, feeling the subtle vibration.
Beside her, Pilar shivered. “Exactly what keeps a plane from falling out of the sky, anyway?”
“I dunno. Jaime could tell us if he was here.” Loup took Pilar’s hand. “Scared?”
“Uh-huh.” Pilar clutched hard. “But I don’t want her to know.”
Across the aisle, Lindberg leaned forward. “It’s all right,” he said kindly. “Taking off and landing are the worst parts. I don’t care for it myself. But these planes have an excellent safety record.”
She closed her eyes as the plane began to taxi. “Good.”
Loup watched the runway rush by outside the window, faster and faster, then fall away as the plane angled into the sky. The plane climbed, banking slightly. It felt strange to leave behind a whole world she had only just found in exchange for an even bigger one. She hoped it was a good decision, one that her brother would approve of. “It’s okay. We’re up. Look, you can see the bays.”
Pilar opened her eyes and leaned across her. “Wow!”
“Feel better?”
“Yeah.” She smiled and kissed Loup. “Thanks, baby.”
On the far side of the other aisle, Sabine muttered.
“It’s not unprofessional if they’re not on a job, Sabine,” Lindberg said with irritation. “Now be quiet and let me read the paper.”
They landed uneventfully in Mexico City and transferred to the international terminal. Loup gazed around in awe at the number of shops and people, the moving conveyor walks, the multitude of large television screens.
“Do you have to gawk like a peasant?” Sabine snapped at her.
“What do you care?”
“It’s embarrassing!”
“Why?”
“Loup doesn’t do embarrassment,” Pilar informed Sabine. “She’d have to be afraid of what other people think, you know?”
Sabine flushed with anger at the implied insult.
“Interesting,” Lindberg observed. “That hadn’t occurred to me. I see we do have a lot to learn about this condition of fearlessness.”
They waited for their next flight in a special lounge for premiere passengers.
“Hey, Magnus?” Pilar said, and then flushed involuntarily. “Can we call you that or are we supposed to call you Mr. Lindberg?”
He looked up from his paper and smiled at her. “In a business setting, we always use the formal address. But in a casual environment, yes, you may call me Magnus. What is it?”
“Is it a long flight?”
“About twelve hours.”
“Can I go buy some magazines? I’ve read all of mine.”
“Certainly.” He nodded. “Sabine, will you escort her to the bookstore?”
“I’ll go,” Loup offered. “I’m bored, too.”
“I would prefer that Sabine escort you,” Lindberg said diplomatically. “Until you are both somewhat less… naive… in the ways of the greater world, I think it is best you have a guide.”
Pilar sighed. “Fine.”
Sabine led them to the nearest bookstore, stalking through the airport. She waited, watching contemptuously as Pilar picked out a handful of entertainment magazines and Loup browsed the English language section.
“What’d you buy, baby?” Pilar asked Loup outside the store.
She showed her. “It’s a travel book all about Europe. I figured I could start learning about the places we’ll go.”
“That’s a great idea!”
Sabine rolled her eyes.
“What?” Loup regarded her. “Jesus, lady! Seriously, what’d I do to piss you off?”
“Do you really want to know?” Her mouth tightened. “You were born. I am very good at what I do. One of the best. I worked very, very hard to become one of the best in this business. I spent years perfecting my skills. And you!” She shook her head in disgust. “I stand to be bested by an ignorant, inarticulate little guttersnipe who owes all her gifts to an accident of birth.”
“Okay,” Loup said. “I kinda get that. But I can’t exactly help it, you know? And it doesn’t take away from everything you’ve done.”
“Plus, it’s so not true!” Pilar added indignantly. “Loup trained really, really hard for three years to beat that Johnson guy! It’s not like she was born a boxer.”
“You.” Sabine’s voice was tight. “I do not even wish to speak of you. Your presence here offends my every sensibility. The day you fail out of training will be one of the happiest days of my life.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You don’t know,” Loup said. “Pilar hasn’t had any training yet. She might turn out to be really good at this. I mean, you didn’t start out as a ninth-level expert in Haikwondo, did you?”
A muscle twitched below her right eye. “Tae kwon do.”
“Whatever.”
“I thought that kung fu stuff was supposed to make you all wise and peaceful and shit. Guess not, huh?” Pilar let out a squeak and ducked behind Loup when Sabine took a step forward, glaring at her.
“For God’s sake, she’s hiding behind you!” Sabine jabbed her forefinger at Loup.
Loup batted her hand away, her arm moving in an inhuman blur. “Yeah, well, do you blame her?”
People streamed around them, giving them a wide berth. Sabine wrestled herself under control. “Come,” she said curtly, striding back toward the lounge.
“What a bitch!” Pilar whispered.
“Yeah,” Loup agreed. “Hey, what’s a guttersnipe?”
“I dunno.” She smiled at her. “But I guess I like ’em.”
They boarded the plane an hour later, sitting in first class. Outside the windows, night was falling. Hushed flight attendants glided up and down the aisles, murmuring offers of beverages.
“Hey, Magnus,” Pilar called. “Is it okay if we say yes?”
“Of course.” Across the aisle, he rested his head, eyes closed. Beside him, Sabine lowered a black satin sleep mask, determinedly blocking out their presence. “Order whatever you like. It’s one of the privileges of traveling first class.”
“Ooh, cool!” She ordered two of their best tequilas, neat.
“Pilar’s a really good bartender,” Loup informed him. Behind her mask, Sabine snorted. “She is!”
“Oh?” Magnus Lindberg opened his eyes briefly. “Actually, that’s also a skill that could come in rather handy. We do provide discreet security for social events from time to time.”
The plane taxied and turned, began to pick up speed. Engines whined.
Pilar grabbed Loup’s hand. “Tell me when we’re up.”
“Okay.” She watched the ground fall away, the lights of the city sprawling beneath them. “You can look now.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “Big world, huh?”
“Very,” Loup agreed.
“Hey.” Pilar touched the rim of her glass to hers. “This is the good stuff we used to keep on hand for Rosa Salamanca at the bar. Remember? We snuck some on your birthday when everyone else was at the festival.”
Loup sipped. Liquid gold. “Yeah,” she said softly. “You said I felt like it tasted. Expensive.”
“Uh-huh.” Pilar kissed her languidly, tasting of smooth, smoky tequila. “You do.”
“Please do not attempt to join the mile-high club while I am present,” Magnus Lindberg said without opening his eyes. “I fear Sabine might expire of outrage.”
“Mile-high club?”
“Forget I spoke.” He cracked one eye open at Pilar. “I do not mean to give you ideas.”
“Okay, fine.”
The plane soared on into the darkness. They finished their drinks. The murmuring flight attendants circulated, taking away the empty glasses, offering blankets. Pilar snuggled into hers, making her chair recline and resting her head on Loup’s shoulder.
“Wake me up if the plane crashes, okay?”
Loup kissed the top of her head. “It won’t.”
ELEVEN
It was early evening when they arrived in Aberdeen.
“I don’t get it,” Pilar said, puzzled. “Shouldn’t it only be, like, noon?”