Mouse Trapped

by Manda Mellett

  Cara’s quiet for a moment. “Mouse, you know I’d help you. But Nijad would have my hide if he knew I was hacking into US government systems.” She breaks off and gives one of her tinkling laughs, “Mind you, he’d tie me to a spanking bench and flog me. Might be worth it.” She’s quiet again, presumably considering whether the crime is worth the punishment. Then resumes, “What will you do with the information?”

  “Go and see her,” I respond without thought.

  “If you haven’t been told officially, how will you explain how you came by the knowledge? Mouse, we’ve worked together for a long time. I can hear you’re personally invested in this. God knows I’ve got sympathy for Mariana, I know what it’s like to be locked up and kept away from the man you want. But everything you and I do is under the radar. On this occasion, I’m not going to help, because all you’re going to do is give us away.”

  I fill my cheeks with air, then let it out. She’s right. I’d go off half-cocked demanding to see her. Getting myself arrested for hacking won’t help Mariana at all.

  “Mouse, can I give you some advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “From what you’ve told me, I’d say she’s going to be deported. That’s what you’ve got to plan for. Fight to try to prevent it, sure. But prepare for the worst. Look into what you can do, what happens when she is.”

  “She’d be headin’ for some bad shit in Colombia.”

  “Then focus on that. Don’t think you can stop the train that’s in motion now.”

  A few pleasantries, a half-hearted enquiry about her family, then I end the call. Cara’s right. If Mariana is released, that’s all I want. But if she’s deported, I don’t want to be blindsided. Devil’s information on her father is becoming critical.

  Rolling a joint, I pull my laptop toward me, and open the programs which will take me into the murky depths of the internet. What I find out at first is very much what I expected from hearing Mariana’s story, when I at last hit a database with some information on it.

  There’s not a lot I can find on a current service record for a General De Souza. A Raphael De Souza joined the National Army for his mandatory military service, the timing fits. There was a short break in his service record, it seems he tried to make it work in the civilian world, and married young during this gap. Shortly after Mariana would have been born, it seems he re-enlisted.

  He clearly showed aptitude from the start, moving up the ranks fairly quickly. Some of his service record is redacted, making me suspicious. That he was chosen to train with the US military is a matter of record. He received recognition for his prowess in the counter-insurgency campaign. After that he did a short spell in what’s described as comprehensive reparation for victims of conflict. So after making their lives hell, he’s now one of the good guys? I shake my head. Leopards don’t change their spots. Neither do soldiers who’ve got a taste for violence, rape and abuse. Then the records stop. There’s nothing more, the trail goes cold. No discharge mentioned, no further promotion. No death recorded. Zilch.

  Picking up my joint, I relight it, the tip flaring as it meets the flame. I’ve got to prove she’s at risk if she returns. Something, anything. The man I’m seeking is metaphorically in the wind.

  Her mother. But that quickly turns up another dead end. Mariana’s convinced her father killed her, but officially it was put down as an untargeted gang rape and murder. It doesn’t seem the police even investigated.

  When my phone starts vibrating, I’m so engrossed in the information on the screen, it takes me a second to respond.

  “Carissa.”

  “Mr Williamson. I’ve got news.”

  I fill the pause. “Good? Bad?”

  She draws in a breath. “She’s been relocated to a detention centre in Los Angeles.”

  “Okay.” I draw out the word.

  “It’s not good news, Mr Williamson. It doesn’t have a particularly good reputation. The better news is that as an immigration attorney, and this is federal law, I’m licensed to practice in any state. So I can continue with the case. But obviously, my costs will increase. Travelling to Los Angeles means I’ll be spending more hours on this one.”

  I suck in air, thinking of my depleting bank balance again. But I don’t hesitate. “Whatever it takes.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, Mr Williamson. She needs legal representation. Else she’ll be just like the rest, left with a court-appointed lawyer, or none at all.”

  I read between the lines. Whatever goes on in that facility, if they know Mariana’s got a proper lawyer, then maybe that will afford her some protection.

  “Whatever it takes,” I repeat, before ending the call.

  I’m sitting with my head in my hands when my door opens. It’s Prez. Dragging my palms down my face, I fill him in on what I’ve just learned.

  He sits, folding his arms across his chest. “You did right claimin’ her. She’s club property now. That means she belongs to the club. And we take care of our own. You need funds? Speak to Dollar.”

  I take a deep breath. While claiming her had been premature and probably a heat of the moment impulsive decision, I hadn’t realised the ramifications. “That’s not why…”

  “I know it isn’t. You might work in the background, Mouse, but you do one fuck of a lot for this club. Do your share like all the brothers. Without the shit you dig up, we’d be walking into situations blind.” Unfolding his arms, he sits forward. “You go above and beyond using that clever head on your shoulders. If you hadn’t dug up those plans for Becca’s ex’s church, we wouldn’t have been able to get the Herreras off our backs. Hell, we might be in a war with them now.”

  My shoulders rise and fall as I shrug off his comment. “Just like digging deep, that’s all.” It’s a game to me, nothing like work.

  “No one else has that logical mind, Mouse. We rely on you. Time for you to rely on us.” He settles back again. “Now, what’s your next step?”

  That’s easy. “Now I know where Mariana is, I need to see her.”

  “The boy will want to go too.” I’m aware of that. But there are things I need to say to her in private. I open my mouth to speak, but he’s read my mind and gets in first. “Leave it with me. I’ve got an idea.”

  When I emerge from my cave, as normal, I blink a few times to get used to the bright light. When I can focus again, I see Blade talking to a very animated Drew. On seeing me, the enforcer raises his chin. I take it as an invitation to join them.

  Drew’s about jumping on the spot. “You really going to buy me a car, Mouse? Help me get my permit?”

  I mock glare at Blade who shrugs. “You told me to look out for one and that’s what I’ve done. How the fuck was I to know you hadn’t told the kid yet?”

  Sighing, I wave off his apology. “Was going to speak to you, Drew, but with everything else…”

  “’S’all right, Tse. I’m just lost for words you’re going to do something like that.”

  “So you’re up for it? Tomorrow? He’s not going to hang onto it after that. There’s a couple more people interested.”

  “Whoa, Blade. Hold up. Drew. Mariana’s been moved to Los Angeles. I’m going to try to see her tomorrow.” I look from one to the other, my hands gesturing I don’t know what to do.

  The kid looks undecided, then says with a resigned sigh, “I’ll come to see Mariana.”

  Blade lays it on thick, and it’s then the penny drops. Prez has set this up. “Fuckin’ shame. Honda Civic. Good little runner, good bodywork too. And it’s not a bad price. Next person to see it will probably jump at it.” He looks down at his feet, then back up as he adds shrewdly, “Got an ace sound system.” Yeah, that will tempt Drew. “Ah, well. Something else will come along.” But the way he says it, it doesn’t sound like he believes it. Neither is the pat on Drew’s shoulder very convincing.

  Drew’s face has fallen.

  It’s my turn to step in. “Hey, Mariana would understand. To be honest, Drew, in order
to get your permit, I’ll need to be your legal guardian. I’m hoping the lawyer has got the paperwork ready for Mariana to sign, need a discussion with her about making it official. Long as you don’t mind me being your guardian, that is.” I belatedly realise he might want a say in it.

  “Shit, no!” he exclaims, back to grinning again, and I wonder if I need to caution him about his language. Don’t think his sister would be too impressed if he starts copying how we talk here. Perhaps being a guardian isn’t going to be easy. “Mouse, sorry, Tse. I’d be proud if you’d take official responsibility for me.”

  I notice him stumble over my name, so I place my hand on his shoulder. “Call me whatever feels easiest, Drew. I answer to both. If you want to go and see the car Blade has found, I’ll explain it all to your sister.” It’s the rest of what I’ve got to tell her which will probably be harder.

  Twin expressions of disappointment and excitement seem to war for first place. Then he turns to Blade, enthusiasm for putting his first step on the road to independence seeming to win out. “Thanks. I can’t wait to see the car you’ve picked out.” Then he spies the girl who he’s become friendly with, it’s not surprising, she’s the closest to his age being just a year older, and calls out, “Hey, Jayden. Guess what?”

  As he goes over to talk to her, Blade and I raise our hands and bump fists.

  Chapter 19

  Mariana

  My relief at finally being released from solitary confinement—which coincided with the evidence of the blow to my face fading to nothing—is short lived. Initially I was just grateful I wouldn’t have to lie awake waiting for a key to turn in the lock and the guard returning to molest me. He never did, but my fear didn’t leave me all the same. But instead of taking me back to join the general population and my original cell, they handcuff me, and I’m taken outside to a large truck. There’s already a number of other people inside, most looking as puzzled as me.

  I swing around to the female guard who accompanies me. Terror making it hard to speak. “Am I being deported?” I ask. Is this it? Being taken away without the chance to say goodbye to Drew, or Tse? Will I find myself sleeping in Colombia tonight?

  My guard clearly has no concerns, or opinion on my future. “ICE wants you in the transport. That’s all I know.”

  “Don’t you care?” I ask, without expecting an answer. “I’ve committed no crime. I’ve lived all my life in the US.” But my voice trails off at the set expression on her face. One which suggests she’s seen and heard it all before.

  Her hand on my back encourages me to move. I glance around, taking what I fear is my last sight of Arizona. Perhaps I’ll see the last view of the States as I fly over in a plane. My gut rolls, and I swallow down bile. This can’t be happening. My quick look has shown me armed guards standing around, there’s no way of escape. No option but to climb the few steps up into the transport, feeling unstoppable tears rolling down my face.

  Cuffs snap around my ankles, they’re fastened to a bolt on the floor. I’m being treated as if I’d committed murder, and not as if, by no fault of my own, I happened to reside in a country where I hadn’t been born.

  A couple of others enter after me, looking equally bemused, then the doors are closed with loud bangs. Voices shout outside, then the truck lurches forward, throwing me against the person at my side.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, but if my companions understand me, no one answers. It seems they’re as much in the dark as I am. So I continue asking questions in my head. Does my lawyer know? Does Tse? Drew?

  There are windows, but placed up high, just enough to let light in, but there’s no way to see out.

  The journey seems to take forever. I equally want it to end and don’t. I’m terrified our destination will be an airport. Where else would they be taking me?

  No one speaks. It’s clear we’re all caught up in our own misery. Time drags. The truck progresses on. Eventually it starts making turns, then slows, and then arrives at what I suspect is the journey’s end. Confirmed when the doors open and the guards undo the chains.

  Almost the last in, I’m one of the first out. Hardly daring to look, I stare at the ground, so it’s my senses which first alert me. There’s no sound of planes taking off or landing, no smell of gasoline in the air. Nothing to suggest it’s an airport. My sense of relief is immense, and now using my eyes, I realise where I’ve been brought. Apart from the layout, the institutional smell, the way we’re treated as we’re hustled into the building, it’s evident this is a different Service Processing Centre.

  I can’t understand why I’ve been moved, scared nobody knows where I am. A chilling thought strikes me as I wonder whether this is only a short reprieve. Maybe I’ve simply come somewhere where the deportation process can be speeded up.

  Does my lawyer know where they’ve brought me?

  As I’m taken through the booking procedure, unnecessarily and intimately searched, then taken to yet another cell—this one I’ll be sharing with three other women—I find breathing becomes difficult. When I walk through the door my steps are uneven, when I throw myself down on the only free bunk, I’m shaking.

  What if no one knows anything? What if I’m abandoned? Alone? What if I’m sent back to Colombia and no one knows where I am? Except for my father who’s certain to find me.

  Trying to force myself to calm down, I start to concentrate on taking deep breaths in and out. It’s up to me to do something. Ring my lawyer. Talk to Tse.

  But that’s not easy. Yes, I’m allowed to call my lawyer, but I haven’t got her number. I had it in Florence, but the things I had there weren’t brought with me. I haven’t a clue what Tse’s is either. And while Tse put money into a facility account, has that been transferred with me?

  So many thoughts flying through my head. I pick one to ask. “Will anyone be able to know where I am?” My eyes plead with my jailers. Am I lost somewhere in the system?

  When I start shaking again, at last a guard takes pity on me and deigns to answer my question. “If you’ve got a lawyer, then yes, they’ll be able to find out where you are.”

  If. I know why she qualified it. So many people around me haven’t. “Where am I?”

  Los Angeles comes the answer. So far away. I haven’t even been out of Arizona before. A wild laugh escapes my lips. I’d dreamed of being able to bring Drew to Disneyland. Never expected to come to LA as a prisoner.

  I try to console myself with the knowledge Carissa will get the information if she asks, that I haven’t disappeared never to see a friendly face again, but it’s hard. I don’t eat, can’t sleep. I spend all my time worrying.

  The first day passes slowly, with no contact. I might be in a different city, a different state, but life’s much the same here as it was in Florence. It’s the second morning something changes, when I hear I’ve got a visitor.

  Carissa. It must be Carissa. Now perhaps I can get some answers. It’s the not knowing that’s destroying me.

  But when I’m taken into the visiting room, across the table I’m pointed to, I don’t see Carissa. I see Tse. My first feeling is relief. He knows where I am. The second is panic, and that drives the first words to come out of my mouth.

  No greeting at all, just, “Where’s Drew?”

  Tse smiles, and glances up at the clock. “Right now he’s looking at a car with one of my brothers.”

  Okay. What? Looking at a car is more important than me?

  “Hey, I can see your mind working. We’ve got things to catch up on, things I need to explain. There’s not much time. Drew’s fine, okay? Let’s get that sorted now.” He seems to wait for my nod, then carries on. “What about you? How are you doing?”

  “I just want to breathe fresh air, Tse. I’m suffocating in here.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out. I meant to stay strong and would have in front of my brother. But seeing Tse, it all comes out. How I want to be able to walk out of here with him.

  “I know, darlin’, I know.” Tse’s voice refle
cts my pain. His hands flutter on the table as if he wants to be doing something. I zip my mouth to stop further complaints coming out, he doesn’t deserve to hear them. I’m not in here because of anything he’s done, I’m just envying the fact he’s free.

  He’s watching me closely. I wonder whether he’s seeing the weight I’ve lost, how my hair has lost its shine.

  I wait for him to comment, he doesn’t. Instead he says something I don’t expect. “I’ve brought Drew to live with me.”

  “I thought you lived on the biker compound.” My eyes open wide.

  He holds up his hand. “Going to the Rez was always temporary. And the compound isn’t what you’re imagining. Lots of the brothers have ol’ ladies and kids, it’s mostly got a family vibe. When it hasn’t, I’ll make sure Drew’s well out of the way. He’s got his own suite, Mariana, bathroom all to himself. Kid’s loving it.”

  My eyes open wider. I’m sure he is.

  Tse continues, “I, or one of my brothers, am making sure he gets to school. It’s better for him there. Though he loved his time on the Rez, it was strange for him. I wanted him close to me. He wanted to come today, Mariana, I assure you, but I found something to distract him. I needed to talk to you about some stuff, and it’s better if it’s just between us.”

  I still can’t get my head around my brother living on an outlaw biker compound. But at least Tse’s looking out for him. Whatever arrangements he makes for Drew, I’m in no position to object.

  “First,” he takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. A guard comes over, checks what’s on it, and nods. Tse takes it back, but pauses before passing it to me.

  I take a second to read it, my jaw dropping open as I do. It’s a legal document which will enable my lawyer to get Tse appointed as Drew’s legal guardian.

  “He doesn’t need you. He’s got me,” I tell him fiercely.

  With compassion in his eyes, Tse starts to explain. “This doesn’t mean anything, Mariana, but it will make things easier for Drew. He can get his driver’s permit…”