Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore

by Olivia Gaines

  The old lady sauntered off, while Odessa held the hand to her chest. The old lady had known that she was a Leo and Saxton was a Scorpio. She went back to Belva’s words about their destinies, the stars and some other crap. Maybe, what they were here to observe, was not what they were in fact looking for, but something altogether different. Her focus was now on her husband.

  “Saxton, what do you think about that?” she asked as she referred to the old fortune teller.

  “I think we need to regroup. Too many people know we are here, as if they were told ahead of time. Let’s get out of the city for minute.” They quickly headed off to rent a vehicle to get out of the city. At the Sixt Rental Car Agency, across the street facing away from Calle 50, was when Odessa first noticed the red truck. What caught her attention was the flapping of the canvas covering on the back and something very large, covered in fur and white was moving around inside a cage.

  As Saxton prepared to get into the driver’s seat of the two door Chevy, Odessa told him to switch out the car for a truck with 4 x 4 capability. Saxton didn’t question, but quickly took care of the transaction. Inside of the Jeep, he inquired about the change. Odessa said, “In the back of that red Super Duty truck across the street is a white lion.”

  The driver of the red truck returned and began to pull out into very slow moving traffic. “Well, now I am curious,” she placed her hand on Saxton’s muscled thigh, “Follow that truck, Mr. Blakemore.”

  “Roger that, Mrs. Blakemore,” not sure what they were going to find, but coincidences are usually visual clues to a bigger mystery. Based on Saxton’s extensive knowledge of criminology, if there was something as rare as a white lion being transported in the daytime, then the smugglers were brazen. If they were blatant enough to transport a rare animal in broad daylight, then what they were doing at night was more than likely involving something far more sinister. He, too was curious. He only hoped that their curiosity didn’t get them or that beautiful cat killed.

  It was with careful and skilled driving that Saxton followed the driver down Calle 50, crossing over Via Israel, to enter and merge onto Boulevard Pacifica ending up on Corridor Sur. The drive along the Gulf of Panama was scenic and refreshing, feeling almost like they were on a real vacation. The driver took the exit behind the Atlapa Convention Center and both Saxton and Odessa felt a wave of disappointment. Had they followed this truck to the circus or some traveling animal show? Each exhaled as the driver rounded the buildings and continued driving along Avenida Cincuentenario ending at the Ruins of Panama Viejo. Odessa looked at Saxton with a perplexed look on her face. The driver continued taking an unimproved side road which led down by the water.

  “We park up here and go in on foot, okay?” Odessa nodded and was truly grateful for her mother’s sensible teachings on fashion. Heels Darling, look great, but always keep a flexible pair of flats in your bag. Quickly changing the wedges she wore for the shopping outing to a pair of walkers by Skechers, and her favorite pair of black jeans, she was ready to roll. It would be getting dark soon and much of the day had been used up in the slow-moving drive.

  As they walked along the ruins, it was hard to imagine this pile of rubble and decaying bricks used to be the epicenter of Panama. It had been homes to rich families, convents, churches, and more gold than a pirate could carry. Since the pirates could not carry it, they burned the city to the ground. The bell tower had been renovated but many of the visitors with cameras came to explore the lush jungle which hosted several species of birds and wildlife. Next to the visitor center were a small market of vendors selling Emberá baskets and Kuna-made molas.

  The Blakemores meandered slowly through the shops, eyeing a few wares, buying a few which were placed back in the vehicle, but the two eventually ended up at the entrance to the jungle. After a few quick sprays with some bug repellant to her and hubby, they entered with some hesitation. As the tour groups went left, Saxton and Odessa headed right, following the sound of the ocean. A subsequent path down a steep hill was followed until they located a set of well-worn concrete stairs. The sound of the ocean was calming and almost drowned out much of the background noise.

  At the base of the stairs was a small tunnel that Odessa refused to enter. The old Saxton would have used his phone to light the way and forge ahead into the darkness. The new Saxton trusted his wife’s instincts and searched for another means in which to get closer. In less than half a mile, they came upon a crumbling building with two sentries and several more of the red trucks. Saxton pulled up his pants leg, pulling the Velcro closure to hand Odessa a 9mm. On his left leg, he carried another 9mm, but pulled a silencer from his back pocket and screwed it on.

  Odessa scrunched her fore head, asking with her eyes, but not her mouth, if he carried a small arsenal on him every day. Saxton smiled and shrugged, “Only fire if you have to. One shot will alert everyone here,” he continued staring into her eyes until he received her compliance. “You go left, I go right, and rally back here in 15 minutes—not one minute longer, okay?”

  She nodded and went left, tiptoeing cautiously. Her heart was beating in her chest so loudly, she could hear it reverberate off her breast plate. Between the sound of the ocean and her heart beat, the only other sound she could faintly hear was the sound of children crying. Odessa rounded the side of the building, staying low, feebly attempting to control her breathing. The window had no frame, glass or structure, but was a gamble to peer into, so she opted instead to make her way to the back door where no one stood guard. The bloodcurdling scream of the child made Odessa pull back the rack and seat a round in the chamber of the gun.

  When she peered inside the doorway, she bit her fist to stifle her own scream.

  Chapter 9- It’s Not What You Think......

  The small room smelled like death. It was illuminated by a directional spotlight on a tripod which shone light onto a scene that would take the rest of Odessa’s life to remove from her psyche. There were cots lined along the wall with a video camera pointing at each makeshift section. The first cot held an Alice in Wonderland backdrop, the next one the Wizard of Oz, and the last three she could care less about. It was what was on the cots that nearly stopped her heart.

  Each cot held a young child. A blond girl about age sixteen, a dark haired tween, about twelve years old, a five-year-old native girl and a seven-year-old boy. Three of the four men who had been molesting the children on camera were now dead, with the fourth man, who also served as the camera operator, meeting his death the moment Odessa had entered the room. The seven-year-old boy was bleeding from his rectum, and a very angry black woman was now pointing her gun at Odessa, “Are you with these scumbags, Bitch?”

  Odessa’s eyes got large, but in the faint light, the woman saw the tears rolling down Odessa’s cheeks, “I guess not. We don’t have much time, Bitch. Go find us some wheels to transport these children out of here,” Odessa didn’t question, but took off out the back door.

  The sentries that were at the front of the building were now gone and she could hear small arms fire on the right. “Saxton!”

  The only thing she could find that would be large enough to transport the children, and the three adults was a Ford Super Duty that someone had left the keys in. She remembered Big Sarge’s words, “Hesitation can get someone hurt.” She turned the ignition switch, checked the fuel gauge and headed first towards the sound of the gunfire. The kids had a protector and would be okay for a few more minutes, the only backup her had husband was her. Voices could be heard yelling, rapido, rapido! Without a doubt in her mind, she knew they were after her husband.

  She stomped her foot on the gas, driving towards the sound, but she slowed as she watched the figure moving across the tops of the ruins with stealth and purpose. A round was fired into a sentry who was aiming upwards at the dark figure, who shimmied down the brick structure like a monkey, did a front somersault, and rolled across the grass, firing three more silent shots into the unsuspecting guards. The fourth man had run out
of bullets as he made his way towards Saxton, who executed a beautiful roundhouse kick to the man’s head. The poor fellow dropped like a sack of potatoes, but Saxton did not look back as he heard the arrival of more men. Odessa saw them on his tail, gunned the engine and pulled up beside him spewing gravel, small rocks, and dirt in to the faces of the oncoming bad guys. Saxton had already loaded in another clip, and jumped on the running board of the truck as Odessa looped back towards the small house. Her husband fired off intermittent shots to keep the men at bay, careful not to use up his ammo. In her rear view mirror, she saw two more men hit the ground. If nothing else, Saxton was a dead shot.

  Odessa ran over rough bricks as she came around the front entrance of the small building, “Open the doors, Baby, we have to make a quick pick up,” she barely came to a full stop as the woman ran out the door, pushing the kids towards the truck. Saxton was still firing off rounds when Odessa hit the gas, barreling out of the drive path, but slowed briefly, to throw the truck in neutral, gun the engine and spray rocks and dirt everywhere, giving Saxton some cover as he climbed into the passenger seat next to the woman, who was still holding the gun.

  The children were huddled together on the backseat, with a compression pack applied to the small boy to stop the bleeding. Saxton looked into the back seat at the children. The twelve-year-old, he immediately recognized, “Your parents are going to be happy to see you.” The girl had gone missing from Cabo San Lucas two years ago while vacationing with her parents. Her eyes held a darkness which spoke volumes about what she had been through. If what Odessa had seen in that room was any indicator, this girl’s life had been hell.

  Suddenly, the most sour and putrid smell came wafting through the cabin of the truck. Saxton was the first to ask, “What the hell is that smell?” As he looked back at the children to see if one of them had messed themselves.

  The five year old native girl spoke up, “La gatica grande de atras, se siente mal de su estomago.”

  Odessa tried to keep her eyes on the road, “Did she say the big kitty has an upset stomach?” It was then they realized the heaviness of the truck was in part to the 800-pound passenger who was still loaded in the back. They heard the chuff and the low growl of the animal. Everyone in the truck screamed, with the exception of the five year old, who found humor in the whole scenario. She held her little stomach and giggled as if she had not just experience or witnessed something terrible.

  Saxton ran his hands through his hair, “Did you plan to rescue the cat as well?”

  The lady, who had been sitting quietly taking it all in, looked to her left at Odessa and to her right at Saxton, “Who in the hell are you people?”

  Saxton made a quick call to their handler, while they tried to figure out where to take the kids as well as an 800-pound rare white cat. Odessa looked at the woman, “I am sorry, we were not properly introduced, but you were busy pulling a man’s brains out of his head. I am Odessa and that is my husband Saxton. We are the Blakemores.”

  The lady was still picking the dead man’s brains off her shirt and placing them in the little garbage bin in the cabin of the truck, “I am Lizzie Perkins.” Odessa saw Saxton turn the phone, knowing the person on the other end was running her name and doing a quick background check on the woman. She was definitely American and very Southern.

  Odessa remained cordial. As far as she was concerned, Lizzie Perkins had rescued those children, so she was cool in her book. “Where can I drop you, Lizzie Perkins?” she asked as if she were driving the carpool for this week’s soccer league.

  “You can let me out at the Atlapa Convention Center,” Lizzie told her as she looked over her shoulder at the children on the back seat. “You will see they get to safety, right?” Odessa agreed as they pulled into the front parking lot of the convention center, “Make sure you do, Odessa Blakemore. If not,” she smiled at her with the most perfect set of teeth Odessa had ever seen on any human, “I will have to come looking for you. You two be careful, those are some really bad people.” That was the third time they had been told the same thing.

  Lizzie slid out of the passenger-side door, gave a mock salute and in seconds, had blended in with the people and disappeared into the crowd. Even covered in blood and brains, it was amazing that she faded into the backdrop of revelers. Saxton, standing beside the truck, ended his call and turn to face Odessa.

  “We need to go after her; that woman is wanted for questioning by the FBI,” he told Odessa.

  “I walked in on that woman, removing a man’s brains with her bare hands, after she had turned him into a soprano,” she said to her husband whose eyes had gotten big, “She had fed him his scrotum Saxton! She is the FBI’s issue, not ours. I am not going after her, and if I ever run into her again, I am heading in the opposite direction!”

  Saxton laughed as he climbed back into the truck and told Odessa to head towards Marcos International Airport. He looked over at her, “Are you telling me that Odessa Trodat Blakemore is scared of that woman?”

  Odessa looked at Saxton, “She pointed a gun at me and said, bitch, go get us some wheels.”

  “So, how did you respond?” Saxton wanted to know out of curiosity.

  “I said yes ma’am and a bitch went and got some wheels!”

  Saxton burst into laughter, but Odessa was serious, “She scared me so bad, you see I stole a truck with a huge cage on the back of it, which was occupied with an equally huge animal.” Saxton only laughed harder.

  “Saxton, it’s not funny, she looked over at him, “Did you notice she was picking the remnants of that man’s brains off her blouse as if they were lint balls ruining her outfit?” Saxton only laughed harder, now holding his stomach when Odessa physically shuddered. She heard a small laugh from the older girl in the backseat. The laughter of the youngest girl had elicited a smile from the 12 year old who was still comforting the boy. Odessa asked did anyone else notice the gigantic cat in the back of the truck, and everyone, except the boy, started to laugh.

  The laughter stopped when they pulled into the airport, to be greeted by men in dark suits with dark glasses, miming dark attitudes. The small children they had rescued tried to cling to Odessa, but she promised them they would be safe. The oldest girl hugged Odessa, filled with emotions which were running over out through endlessly flowing tears. “It is not what you think...” she whispered to Odessa, “I was getting too old. I am actually eighteen now, and had become of little use. They kept me drug free. If you guys hadn’t shown up, I would have been sold for parts.”

  The agents pried the girl away and put her on a plane along with the twelve-year-old American girl. The two native children they took to an area hospital. The boy would require surgery to repair the damage and lots of counseling. The little girl did not appear to have an apparent injuries and may not have been hurt. Odessa refused to think anything otherwise.

  “Saxton,” she said in amazement, “I think Roget misunderstood the meaning of a shipment of arms.”

  “Odessa, I figured that out a while ago. They are using the old rum runner lines to smuggle people and rare animals.”

  “So what do we do now?” she asked as she walked towards the back of the truck.

  “We need more intel,” he said, “It is time to have a conversation with a rattler.”

  “We are not on Rentería’s good list.”

  “He cares about us. He came to personally warn us, so at least we have something.” The cat in the back chuffed again, and they both raised the corner of the covering. It was Saxton who spoke the thought they were both thinking, “We have two somethings, you can’t get rarer than a white liger; someone will want this back. It may buy us some time to get out of this country.”

  “You sure we want to talk to that viper’s nest again, Saxton? You went all 007, and killed a good number of those men, and what Lizzie did to those molesters, I am going to have to pray about.”

  Saxton didn’t want her to worry too much, “You thought I looked like 007?”

>   She bit down on her bottom lip, “Yes, it was all sexy and shit.” He leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth, Odessa purred a bit, pawing at his chest.

  “Let me take care of the kitty in the back of the truck first,” his words brought a smile to her face, “I love you, Odessa Blakemore.”

  “I love you too, Saxton.” She wrapped her arms tightly about his waist, not only for comfort, but for strength; she had to calculate the odds of them getting out of this alive, “Okay, let’s take care of our friend back there so we can get the hell out of Panama.”

  Chapter 10- The Arms Race

  The rental car was still at Panama Viejo, which is where Saxton chose to rendezvous with Rentería. Odessa was concerned for the animal. Vomiting can lead to dehydration so she asked Saxton to stop at a petrol station that had a water hose. She lifted a corner of the covering and the stench nearly overwhelmed her. The liger’s tongue was hanging out and there was a bowl affixed in the corner of the cage. Odessa added water there first. As the big cat lapped at the liquid, she turned the hose towards the base of the cage to rinse away the chunks of meat the animal had regurgitated. The urine was rinsed away with other discarded waste. The cat looked at her with sad eyes. She knew then, this animal had been caged a long time and had lost its will to fight; this she was truly starting to understand.

  The tears which were threatening to consume her were put away. Saxton needed her to be sharp and focused. She would be sharp. She would be focused. The calculations in her head began and she shared her idea with her husband and the Blakemores finalized the details of their story. They arrived at the site and parked close to the rental car. The tourist site was about to close and there were few people there. As a safety precaution, both weapons had been reloaded and the camera hung around Saxton’s neck again. He had gone back into the jungle and snapped a few photos of some birds. Odessa reminded him to turn off the time and date stamp.