by Bryn Bauer
An hour later, Sofia sank into one of the coral striped lounge chairs. She left much of the doubt and anxiety in the choppy waters of the bay but still did not reach a decision about the job. If she took the offer it essentially meant redirecting her entire career. She also knew that living where one worked could be difficult, however brief the time. Living onsite as a counselor with Outward Bound taught her that setting boundaries was necessary. It was very easy to be on call all the time or ‘be available’ at any hour. It appeared that boundaries were few and permeable with these projects given the evidence from the previous night. Could I handle thirty hour days like yesterday? Could I handle living with my supervisors? She thought. Then the biggest question entered Sofia’s mind, Will I give up my path to non-profit?
Sofia spent the afternoon alternating between snacking on tropical fruit, swimming in the turquoise waters and napping in the plush lounge chairs under her floppy sunhat, trusting that a conversation with Joe, Helena and Quint would tip her decision. At four in the afternoon, Sofia woke with a start. The noise that woke her came again. It was the sound of a door opening beneath her. It must be the engine room door or the galley door judging by the location. She smiled. They must be back. She found an odd feeling of excitement course through her at the thought of their return. Sofia couldn’t imagine how tired they must be. She gathered her towel and plate and rose to go down and greet them. Questions could wait until later. Sofia descended the narrow stairs to the deck. She saw the riveted engine room door slightly ajar. Wanting to avoid a repeat of her previous encounter with Joe she called out as she approached.
“Joe! You’re back. I can’t wait to hear-“. Her last words were cut off by the door slamming into her face, knocking her to the ground, unconscious. She opened her eyes moments later to blinding pain in her head and blood pouring from her nose. She tried to roll onto her side only to find herself pinned to the deck by strong hands. Blinking, Sofia looked up to find a swarthy face and scraggly black beard inches from her face.
“Let me go! Get the hell off me!” Sofia began to struggle in earnest. The man bared his teeth in a humorless smile revealing yellowed teeth that smelled of stale tobacco. The reek, along with the pain from her nose and head nearly made Sofia vomit. She tried to buck and roll again but the hands tightened their grip. She felt the shards of the broken plate cutting into the back of her head and neck with the pressure he exerted. His rancid breath assaulted Sofia’s face in bursts from his laughter. He leaned so close to Sofia that his spidery moustache brushed her cheek as he spoke.
“Tell your boss that he doesn’t like waiting.”
“What? I don’t know who you’re-”. The man shook her hard enough to make her teeth clack together. Sofia squeezed her eyes shut hoping to block out what was happening.
The attacker slapped her. “He does not like to wait.”
A hand snaked out to maul her right breast and a slimy tongue reached out and licked her from chin to ear. Then the hands were gone. She was able to open her eyes just enough to see green fatigues retreating then jumping onto a small speedboat. As soon as she heard the boat disappeared around the hull of the Mariana, Sofia rolled to the rail and was thoroughly sick.
When she felt she could rise without retching again, Sofia staggered to her feet holding the towel to her nose to staunch the stream of blood. She started towards her cabin intending to immediately call Quint.
Passing the still open engine room door, a bank of blinking screens caught her attention. Intrigued, she entered the tiny darkened room. The slice of light from the doorway illuminated the screens. Across the room, four laptops ran some kind of software and speakers sat in the middle of the row of keyboards. She did not find an engine or any mechanical equipment for a yacht. Confused, Sofia dropped the towel and turned the volume knob. Rapid-fire Spanish met her ears. She turned to the screens and found the speech rhythms matched the crisp video feed of two men speaking in front of a door to a rundown cinderblock building. They wore the same drab green uniform of her attacker. It must be some sort of surveillance room thought Sofia.
A number of questions invaded her mind. What does all this have to do with the car? Why are lawyers surveying other people? She knew from Quint’s Ethics courses that this was definitely illegal for all but duly authorized government agents. Lawyers in private practice were not included in that category. Who were these people? Sofia exhaled strongly and winced. As she stalked out of the room she thought, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think I know my answer to their offer.
In the bathroom of her cabin, Sofia welcomed the sting of cold water on her nose and face. She peered into the bathroom mirror, examining the bridge of her nose. Swollen and beginning to bruise, it was painful but it was not the white hot pain of a fracture. The still straight bridge confirmed that it was not broken. She sighed in relief. Sofia scrubbed her face somewhat more vigorously that she should have with her injuries trying to rid herself of the assault. She counted herself lucky that the man had not gone further than he did.
While rinsing the lavender suds, Sofia briefly considered packing and leaving for Charleston immediately. She marched to the wardrobe, opened the doors and stood staring for a moment. Reaching for her suitcase, Sofia saw the persimmon dress she had worn the previous evening and thought of Helena and their conversation. She thought of the woman’s kindness and understanding. Then, Sofia grabbed her sandals instead of the suitcase. Sitting on the bench to put them on she thought, I could go back to Charleston, but I at least owe it to Helena to let her know and I owe it to Quint to be honest about why I’m leaving, even if he is a liar, she added with venom. The image of her attacker flashed in her mind and she shuddered. I have to tell them about the intruder. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I could have warned them. But, she promised herself, I’ll leave tomorrow on the first flight.
Sofia tried all three cell numbers but only reached voicemail. She didn’t know how she would find them, but she also didn’t want to wait on something this important. And, she thought, truth be told, I can’t stand to be on this boat by myself right now. Sofia finished buckling her ankle strap and began to stride to the door. “Damn!” she called and stumbled. The strap on her left sandal snapped sending the buckle sailing and landing with a clink on the bed side table. As she reached for it, her eyes lit on the remaining pink diamond earring she had taken off before sleeping last night. Sofia jumped up, quickly snatched up another pair of shoes and dashed to the surveillance room. She knew how to find them. Sofia scanned the screens and found one that showed three blinking dots on a map of Miami. She clicked each one in turn and saw the following letters: A.Q., H.C, J.C. That’s them, she thought. She used the browser to find the location address but didn’t bother with the name. Sofia dashed to the harbor master’s stand where a line of taxis could always be found. She slammed the door of one of these upon entering and thrust a slip of paper and a wad of money towards the driver.
“Here’s the address. And here’s fifty. Hurry, please.”
He eyed the money. “Sorry miss, I have to follow the law, I could lose my license.” Sofia narrowed her eyes and jabbed another fifty at him.
Smiling, the driver folded the bills and peeled out onto Bayshore Drive. A few moments or an hour later, Sofia couldn’t be sure, she peered out of the grime streaked window of the cab. The driver repeated himself.
“This is it, lady.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, you gave me a hundred bucks for me to take you to the wrong place. Yeah lady, this is it.”
Sofia frowned at the driver and stepped out onto the cracked and crumbling sidewalk. She stood in front of a storefront whose red burlesque style letters read “Baroque”. She tried to look inside but the window was obscured by heavy, blood red curtains. Sofia stood outside the black door looking at the peeling paint while hastily tidying her hair. She didn’t know what kind of situation she would be walking into, but she wanted to look prepared for what
ever it was. She glanced at her reflection in the window and then wished she hadn’t. While she did have an air of being put together, the swollen nose and bruising under her eyes would certainly attract attention.
She pushed open the door, and had to stand for a moment in the entryway while her eyes adjusted to the smoky dimness. She glanced around Early Mexican Bordello must have been the design motif, she thought. The small, low ceilinged room held a dilapidated but ornate heavy wood and brass bar, a few tables and stained red velvet stools. The walls seemed held together only by the old red velvet wallpaper, now brown with neglect. Sofia wondered if the place had ever been cleaned. Patrons, mostly men in various degrees of intoxication were starting to look around and Sofia took that as her cue to keep moving. She did not see Helena, Joe or Quint but spied a narrow hallway leading to what she assumed was another room in the bar.
Sofia quickly followed the hallway to the next room which was of similar quality, decoration and clientele except that the filthy chandeliers of the previous room had been replaced by fluorescent lighting here. Again, she did not find who she was looking for, and kept going through two more hallways and two more rooms. She was beginning to despair. This is more like a rabbit warren than a bar, she thought. Finally, in the fifth and what she hoped was the final room, she caught a glimpse of Quint’s copper streaked head facing her but bowed in conversation with Helena, Joe and two men. Both men appeared to be Hispanic. One of them wore a crisp white long-sleeved button up shirt with what looked to be a Hermes tie. She studied his face and recognized him as Quint’s dinner partner from the previous night. The other man more resembled the other clientele, dusty denim work shirt, holey jeans and steel toed construction boots.
Sofia stood assessing. Do I go over there and interrupt? Do I wait here? Both options, she decided, had downsides. She did not want to blurt out what she had found or what happened in front of people she didn’t know but also didn’t want to wait around alone which would invite unwelcome looks and conversation. As she took the first step toward the five-person group Quint looked up and almost looked back but did a double take. His eyes widened briefly in alarm; whether at her presence or at her damaged face, she did not know. He politely excused himself and Sofia was relieved that none of the others looked up from their conversation. He maintained a casual air as he walked toward her as if it were an everyday occurrence for him to talk to strange beat-up girls in dives like this. For all of her suspicion and anger, she had to admire his self-possession.
Quint didn’t speak but took her arm firmly in his and led her to a nook in the corner of the room. They sat on the same ripped red velvet stools she had seen in the other rooms of the bar. He peered into her face, and intensely worried expression spreading across his features. He still held her arm.
“Sofia, what the hell happened to you? Are you OK?” He crooked his index finger under her chin and turned her face this way and that squinting at her injuries. Despite her anger, she felt herself comforted by his touch.
Of course I’m not, Sofia thought. She sidestepped by answering. “There was a break in on the Mariana. The guy gave me this.” She gestured to her swollen visage.
Sofia winced at the sudden increase of force in Quint’s grip on her arm. He leaned in and said, “Is that all he did?” Sofia nodded. Quint loosened his grip and sighed, “Thank God. Did he say anything?”
“He said to tell my boss, ‘he doesn’t like to wait’.” As she spoke, she watched carefully for signs of reaction. The only thing she saw in Quint’s kind eyes was confusion and concern. “I take it that you don’t know what that means either?”
He shook his head, “No, but Joe might.”
Sofia related the description and the events briefly. Finally she said, “When I regained consciousness, the engine room door was still ajar…” She trailed off at the look he gave her. Not anger, or surprise but of amused knowing.
“So, that’s how you found us. I thought it must have been. All of our phones are off.”
She nodded. “Look, I’m sorry Quint, it’s obvious that I wasn’t supposed to be in there but-”.
He held up a hand. “Sofia, it’s no big deal. We were going to tell you about it tonight. I know Helena left you a note about the offer.” His smile widened. “I told her you would have a million questions so she wanted to talk to you when we didn’t have a time constraint.”
Sofia was more than a little irritated at the look he was giving her. He seemed to think this was funny. She jerked her arm from his hand.
“Quint, who the hell are these people? Please don’t insult me by telling me they’re lawyers because that surveillance would be completely illegal. I can’t believe you would be involved in something like that. But I really don’t know what to think right now. I meet a bunch of rich Cuban-Americans who must somehow be connected to the car, then I get beat up by another wearing green fatigues and-”.
“Wait!” Quint cut her off. “He was wearing green fatigues?”
“Yeah, I-.”
“You didn’t mention that before.” Quint leaned forward again. “Tell me exactly what he looked like.”
She didn’t want to relive it but told him, shuddering as she began. As she spoke, he looked more and more concerned. When finished she said, “Do you know who it was?”
He shook his head. “I have a guess, but it’s only a guess. I’ll still need to ask Joe.”
She had enough of these guesses and not knowing and she was done. “Quint, tell me what the hell is going on right now or I’m getting on the first flight back to Charleston.”
He still looked deep in thought. “Quint!”
He started and then responded. “I heard you, but look, I can’t explain it now. We’re here on business and I have to get back.” He gestured to where the two Hispanic men were still deep in conversation with Joe and Helena.
Sofia infused as much disdain into her voice as possible. “They seem to be taking care of things, why can’t you explain?” She strove to keep her voice under control.
“This is a team, we support each other. I need to get back.”
Seeing the thunderous look on Sofia’s face, he relented. “Ok, like I said, we’ll tell you more tonight but come with me.” He took her hand to help her to her feet. She shook him off but followed to the knot of people who stopped and turned. Helena and Joe looked up but did not react which told Sofia either they had already spotted her or they were very cool under pressure. Probably both, she thought.
Quint introduced her to the two men. Turning first to the man who had been Quint’s elegant dinner partner he said, “Sofia, let me introduce you to Juan Carlos Perez.” Then, turning to the man who looked more in line with the bar’s patronage, said, “And Ignacio Jimenez”. Quint made the introductions in Spanish but Sofia had sufficient grasp of the language to understand most of what was said. Mr. Jimenez gestured to her face and asked Quint in a voice like dried corn husks, “Is she another one?” Quint shot Sofia an urgent glance, willing her not to ask “another what?” Sofia briefly returned the look as if to say “I’m not stupid, you know.”
Quint turned back to Ignacio and answered. “No, she is on our team to help you. She has just had an unfortunate accident.” Well, thought Sofia, that was putting mildly. We’ll see if I’m really on your team after today.
Jimenez nodded and grasped Sofia’s hand quick and hard. “Thank you. Thank you for your help.” came his fervent rasp. She squeezed his callused hand and nodded. Whatever his situation, she thought, he must be desperate. She could see pleading in his eyes.
Mr. Jimenez gave a weak smile as Mr. Perez spoke. “Mr. Jimenez, we don’t want to keep you any longer; it could be dangerous for you.” He took out a wad of bills. “Here, take this and go to the address I gave you. They’ll help you get a place and a job. Don’t contact your family for a couple of weeks, and that includes sending money. “That,” he gestured at the money, “Is to help you. Then you can help your family. It is possible that your family is be
ing watched.” Ignacio Jimenez rose and seemed to debate taking the money, just looking at it. Helena stepped in.
“Please, Mr. Jimenez, your information has been so helpful and you put yourself at risk to do it. The least we can do is compensate you.” It worked. He slid the money into his boot glancing around to make sure no one but the five of them had seen. Then he shook each hand around the tight circle and left.
Mr. Perez did the same, adding to Joe, “Thanks, your help is appreciated.”
Joe shook his hand and said “Of course, and thank you too. We wouldn’t be this far along without you. This information will be extremely helpful.”
After Perez left, Joe scrubbed his hand over his face. Sofia thought all three of them looked exhausted. Sofia felt guilty for asking but took a breath and said, “I know you all must be extremely tired, but I need to know what’s going on and why I have this.” Pointing to her swollen and blotched face.
Helena sighed. She looked like she was about to drop but responded. “Yes you do. We were planning to talk to you more tonight but the events of the day have clearly altered things.”
Joe glanced down at his Rolex. “Five-thirty. I need a drink.” Joe moved away from the bar and examined his clothing as if checking for signs of contamination. “Let’s get out of this dump and go over to The Forge.”
