Shadows Across America

by Guillermo Valcarcel

  “Hello, Andrés. How’s your mother?”

  “As well as can be imagined. She has her cross to bear; there’s no point talking about it. I’d prefer to apologize for agreeing to hurt you with the sin of mendacity. I spend my nights praying that the harm I caused covering up my sister’s lies leaves your heart untouched and corrupts mine instead. It was my fault. I ask your forgiveness just as I have of Christ.”

  “Andrés, you did nothing wrong. I don’t even think Michelle did. She was just being cowardly, that’s all. I should have guessed. I should have anticipated what was going to happen and saved your brother.”

  “My brother, God forgive him and accept him into his glory, chose his fate. And I share that sinner’s fate.”

  “It’s not your fault. You had nothing to do with it. You didn’t grow up together; the only thing the two of you had in common was a mother. Your family was from Hungary, wasn’t it?”

  “On my mother’s side. My father is from here.”

  “Yes, you shared a family, but he was raised by his father. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to him.”

  “You know what they say. If there’s no father at home, they’ll find one on the street.”

  “You spoke about your father as though he were still alive. I thought he’d passed away.”

  “He may as well have. We haven’t seen him in years. He had another family, and when my mother found out, she accepted it and went on living with him. He was the sinful one. But he couldn’t accept it and left with the other lady, who was younger. You know how he beat me and how I escaped north. But it wasn’t his fault; that’s how he was. I never saw him again. How is your mother? I’m sorry not to have asked before.”

  “I went to see her recently—she’s great. It’s strange—with me, my father was the foreigner, but you got your nationality from your father. For some reason I always feel that you’re from the land of your mother, not your father.”

  “I think you’re right. We live where our mother brings us, not our father. It happens a lot; the men here are like that. Good men like you are hard to find. Your heart is as pure as my niece’s, and if I were asked to sin again to save her, may God forgive me, but I’d do it.”

  “No, Andrés. I don’t want you mixed up in this. Tell me what happened before I came. Please, tell me everything I still need to know. That’s all I want.”

  “I told Don Calvo everything I know. He knows what I know. He laughed when Michelle told him that he had to hide it from you. He called her clever. The deception amused him.”

  “That sounds like him.”

  “I know—he’s not trustworthy.”

  “How long has Michelle been with her boyfriend? Why didn’t Michi live with them?”

  “I don’t know, Don Ethan. I only know what I’ve heard from the girl and my mother. He’s one of the owners of the call center where she works. They started dating about six months ago. Michelle told us that at first she’d told him that the girl was her niece and then admitted that she was her daughter but claimed that she lived with our mother. That was a lie: they lived alone in an apartment, but she was afraid that he’d leave her. He asked her to move in with him, and she did, but little Michi was a problem. So my sister asked our mother to take Michi for a few months while she got settled in. She was going to persuade the engineer to take her daughter too. She said that he was very decent and rich and was going to give them a very good life.”

  “Why haven’t you investigated the engineer? He should be on the list of suspects. What’s his name?”

  “Randall Gutiérrez Ochoa.”

  Ethan’s heart almost leaped out of his chest. “What? You’re kidding me!”

  “No, that’s his name, Don Ethan, but he has nothing to do with Randall the guitarist, the one you knew. He was called Randall Silva. It’s a silly coincidence.”

  “You’re fucking with me. I can’t believe it.”

  “Yes, Michelle was worried about what you might think if you found out about that, but she also said that there was nothing she could do. He wasn’t going to change his name. It’s just a coincidence. The last I heard of the other Randall, he’d snuck back into the US, and that was five years ago.”

  “Fine, let’s move on. It’s nothing. Let’s call him the engineer to avoid confusion. Why wasn’t he a suspect? He comes into Michelle’s life, separates her from her daughter, and then she’s taken. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

  “He’s a good man. He hired and paid Calvo, the most expensive there is.”

  “Did Calvo investigate him?”

  “I don’t know. But Suarez did. He did it before you arrived, and he didn’t find anything. He told me that he thought that the kidnappers were already following the girl. Michelle just made it easier for them when she sent Michi to live with my mother.”

  “About Suarez, Andrés . . .”

  “I know you don’t trust him.”

  “No, it’s not that. But there’s something strange about him. I don’t know who he is. I don’t know why . . .”

  “I gave him the name Calvo gave us. He knows everything.”

  “I was sure you would have, but I wanted to discuss it with you. I’d like to meet with him.”

  “Whenever you like. I’ll tell him, but now, if you’re going to call him, to put your mind at rest, please listen: I’ve known him since before you were born. And if it was a choice between putting my life in your hands or his, forgive me, but I’d go to him first. I’ll tell him, I promise, but he’s a good man, the only one you can trust.”

  Once more, Ethan was stunned by his friend’s blind faith. “Fine. I understand. I’ll call him.”

  “And I’ll tell him the next time I see him.”

  “Thank you, Andrés. Goodbye.”

  It wasn’t hard to decide what his next step should be. He didn’t really have a choice. Ethan decided to put his trust in Andrés’s judgment about Suarez, as well as the fact that the Matapatria was desperate to find him. Now Suarez was his only lead, and whether he was on Ethan’s side or setting a trap for him, Ethan would be ready for the former inspector. He took out the phone that tied them together and sent a text.

  We need to talk. I’ll follow your instructions. Let me know if you receive this.

  He waited a few moments as though he were expecting an instant response. But then his thoughts got lost in the reflection on the screen, and he started to daydream. When he came back to reality, he threw the phone onto the bed. The moment he let go, the annoying device began its irritating ring.

  “Hello, Suarez. I’m following your instructions, as you can see.”

  “Yes. So long as you follow my instructions exactly, everything will be fine.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Andrés gave you the name we uncovered, didn’t he? It was a trap to lead them to you.”

  “Yes, it was. Your detective’s goons followed him and slipped a tracking beacon onto him. I was watching from afar. But what they didn’t know was that Andrés is wise, and he follows my instructions too. He used a phone no one knows about. But even if they’d bugged that, they’d still be going down a blind alley. I am pleased to inform you that my inquiries have been productive.”

  “Your inquiries into the name Calvo turned up, I imagine. So you went ahead on your own?”

  “When an opportunity to make headway presents itself, it’s a sin not to take it.”

  “But don’t you think it might have been another trick, a way to catch you out?”

  “No, not unless they also know that I have Jonathan’s phone. Remember? All it took to unblock it was a piece of plastic. But I admit that the name was useful. His chat and message history allowed me to see who else they’d been in contact with and break the codes they use for their deals. I’ve learned that he has a team of four policemen under his command: extortion, kidnapping, and protection of certain drug traffickers. They’re professionals but not very on the ball. They don’t even know that Jonathan is dead,
so they’re not expecting any trouble. I was able to put together their routines without even having to put them under surveillance. They may never even find out about us. How much better can things get?”

  Ethan was torn. The man’s smug attitude, not to mention the fact that he seemed to do everything perfectly, were supremely annoying, but he also felt a grudging respect for what Suarez had achieved. “Yes, but you shouldn’t have told Andrés about Jonathan. That was a fuckup.”

  “You can keep making petty arguments like a schoolboy or come with me to uncover them. Here’s the situation: the gang is led by the guy and his girlfriend; the three others are lower ranked. The couple is the brains, and the others follow their orders. They rent a warehouse in a more or less abandoned industrial lot where I imagine they keep their victims. Since I’ve been following them, they’ve picked up a young woman, not more than twenty. They take turns watching her, but at night they leave her alone. That’s how confident they are. They’ve beaten her and abused her, and last night the man guarding her raped her. He told her that she’d be in trouble if she told the others, but the fact that he’s started taking liberties leads me to believe that they don’t think they’ll get the ransom and time’s running out. The couple always comes to visit at dusk to bring groceries and settle accounts, but tomorrow he’s on the day shift, and she’s on the night one. There’s a game on TV, so we won’t be disturbed.”

  “What? What game?”

  “Of course, you’re a gringo. Soccer’s not your thing. The national team is playing tomorrow—that’s why she’s taking the shift. The entire country will come to a halt. If we win, there’ll be partying in the streets. If we lose, it’ll be a funeral. Either the streets will be packed or empty, and both serve our purposes. I imagine that he’ll come by to relieve her when it’s over. Or maybe he’ll go before so they can watch it together; either works. They’re the ones we’re interested in, and the soccer game will make sure that we don’t get any unexpected visitors. If we go just before kickoff, we’ll catch her on her own and wait for him, and if he’s already there we’ll just be saving time. We’ll have until five in the morning before they’re relieved.”

  Ethan didn’t respond.

  “What do you say?”

  A shiver ran down Ethan’s spine as he said, “We’re not going to get a better chance, are we?”

  “Precisely.”

  6

  A Moment of Fury

  When Ethan opened his eyes, he felt agitated and nervous. He couldn’t remember the dream, but he knew that it had been related to his fears about what the coming night would hold in store for him. And death. Maybe it was he who had died. That could happen in dreams; they could go on even after you’d died. Maybe not. Maybe he’d killed someone. Whatever had happened, he’d woken up disoriented and annoyed, exhausted. At least nothing strange or supernatural had happened, which was both reassuring and disappointing.

  He looked at his phone; it was almost an hour before he’d set the alarm to go off. Through the curtain he saw the morning birds in the predawn light and heard the sound of an engine or two in the distance. He turned over, trying not to waste the little time he had left to rest. He couldn’t allow himself to be sleepy—today was the day. He had to stay relaxed. But his pulse was pounding. He spent five minutes lying there, his mind racing, and then decided to take a piss. Maybe he’d been woken up by his bladder. In the bathroom he heard a truck drive through the neighborhood, making a sad mechanical sound that went perfectly with the bleak horizon—today was the day. He went back to bed, still kidding himself that he’d be able to get back to sleep. But not for long. He reset the alarm for twenty-four hours later. For when it’s done, whispered a silent, anxious voice. Today is the day, and the alarm will wake up you or your killer, letting you know whether you’ve been successful. It’ll all be out of your hands. Successful or not, there could be no regrets because they didn’t have a choice. Either they got the information and found themselves on the Mara hit list, or they lost to the kidnappers and probably got themselves killed in the process. However careful Suarez’s planning was, they both accepted that a shoot-out was a very real possibility.

  He went down to the main street just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. He wanted to have breakfast outside the apartment, which had begun to feel like a prison. On his way, he bought a fitness magazine to read but couldn’t take in anything. Today was the day.

  He wondered why he was getting so worked up. He’d been on dangerous missions like this before. He’d handled wild gunfights and organized arrests in the worst possible conditions, but now the stakes were so high and the potential results so unpleasant that he had no reason to be hopeful. He had good reason to fear their success as much as their failure. There was one outcome he was afraid of most of all, an unthinkable one that felt like a lead weight in his stomach: that Ethan and Suarez would break them, only to confirm that Michi was indeed dead. Then there’d be no reason for him to stay in the country any longer. He’d have to fly back with her blood forever on his hands.

  The morning dragged on lazily, and he was unable to do anything productive. So he just walked through the city, weighted down by all of his burdens. Today was the day. He repeated the mantra compulsively. Today was the day. He thought about what Michi deserved and what she must have been through. There was an instinctive aspect to our relationship with children who depend on us, a kind of magical bond that helped us to focus and ignore logic. When he thought of Michi, he was overcome by a sense of responsibility and a need to protect her. The need to get her back and feel that she still had a future. It was Michi’s future that was at stake, not his. He saw things with raw clarity: even if it was still possible to get her back by paying a ransom or by force, he’d be trading his life in return. Was it worth it? If he could get her back, he suddenly realized, if he could do it, then yes: it would be worth it. He’d swap places with her in a second, without thinking. And somehow that unexpected, suicidal impulse relaxed him. Today was the day.

  He went back to the apartment and locked himself in, channel surfing, grateful that the apartment had cable. He could flick through the infinite range of networks indefinitely without ever taking in the image on the screen. Time stood still. Nothing happened. Several times he went to the window, and the blue sky shimmered and throbbed under the blinding sun. No matter how many times he went to look, it didn’t change. The star appeared to be happy where it was, at its zenith, tormenting him, broiling the atmosphere, chasing away the shadows.

  Ethan longed for and feared the designated hour in equal measure. Deciding that he’d allow the heat to drain him so he’d be forced to buy something, he went out again to walk in the sun—very unusual behavior in these parts. The guard greeted him with a dutiful smile, and he walked away from the gated community, distracted by the sights. When he got to the store, he forgot what he’d gone in there for. The establishment was small and claustrophobic, and the air grew thicker the farther inside he went, out of range of the fan on the wall, which appeared to be doing its job in the most lackluster way imaginable. The density of the atmosphere made him thirsty, and he went to the refrigerated drinks. Its fogged glass dripped so that it looked as though the machine itself was sweating. Inside, of course, the cans were warm.

  He walked back, exhausted by the heat, its sheer spitefulness making him irritable. Crossing through the barrier into the private neighborhood, he answered the guard’s offer—“I can have things brought to you, you know”—with a half smile. He locked himself back in his cell and collapsed in front of the TV to continue unseeing the shows. Then he found himself checking his gun but couldn’t remember what line of thought had led him into it. He made himself go back to the TV after examining the fridge. That was when he remembered the other things he was supposed to have gotten at the store. He cradled the remote and remembered his endless arguments with Ari and how angry she got. He realized that at that moment all he wanted was for her to be there with him, scoffing at his g
rumpiness and the absurd way he judged people. He ached for Ari as though there were a hole inside of him. He couldn’t help thinking that everything he’d done so far had been a mistake, a mistake he couldn’t escape. A struggle was going on inside of him, and as much as he tried to avoid it, it centered on his fears that Ari wouldn’t come back, that he’d lost her by going off on a wild-goose chase. He tried to reassure himself by thinking of ways he could bring this chapter of his life to an end and try to undo the damage he’d done. But he knew it was impossible.

  Behind the curtain the sun began to go down. The light turned orange and the horizon purple. He emerged from a deep personal pit, regretting not having had a nap to clear his head. He yawned, stretched, showered, and headed for the meeting point.

  Following Suarez’s characteristically punctilious instructions, Ethan left the car in a parking lot with twenty-four-hour security and went into a nearby mall. He rode a service escalator that no one used down three flights to the rear loading bay. There, he waited five minutes to make sure that he wasn’t being followed, went back up, and left through the food court among a crowd of families and couples. He crossed the street and turned down another, smaller, more solitary one, where he waited behind a row of dumpsters along with a group of bums, who eyed him warily. Suarez appeared in an unmarked minivan.

  “I see it’s a national habit to forget your plates.”

  “Good evening. I imagine that your detective takes similar precautions. He’s a good professional. Do you like your apartment?”

  “My apartment?”

  “Yes, where you’re sleeping now. You’ll be safe there so long as you’re not followed.”

  “Let me guess—you found it for me?”

  “Andrés asked me to arrange it. There’s no better place for you in the city. The Mara won’t find it easy to get to you there. Not bad, hmmm?”

  He’d been in Suarez’s hands right from the start. He was fully involved in everything Andrés was. Maybe that was why he’d made the stupid mistake of telling him about Leidy. Maybe they really were as close as Andrés said. Ethan was forced to conclude that this was a good sign: if someone knew exactly where he was and he was still alive, that was all it could be. But he was still going to keep one eye on the former policeman.