Forced Disappearance

by Marton, Dana

“Let’s try that first. If we can’t find anyone who’s seen him, we’ll come back here.” She headed back to their car.

  Roberto had traded his Mercedes for an older-model military Jeep before they left Caracas, a choice she hadn’t been crazy about at the time, since the Jeep didn’t have air-conditioning, but she now approved wholeheartedly. The all-terrain tires and high clearance would serve them well if the road got any worse.

  They got into the car at the same time, but Roberto didn’t start the engine. Instead, he looked at her, then he reached for the glove compartment, retrieved a handgun, and handed it to her. “We’ll be cutting through the jungle,” he said simply.

  She checked the magazine. Full. She stared at the gun in her hand for a second, then at him. She hadn’t expected this kind of vote of confidence. Maybe she’d misjudged the man. Maybe she didn’t need to be so wary around him. “Thanks.”

  He nodded, then drove a few hundred feet and stopped at the town’s store for more food and water. While Roberto shopped, she showed Glenn’s photo around. The locals wouldn’t say anything. They probably didn’t want to risk the commander’s ire.

  Roberto drove about fifty miles before they reached the next batch of houses, a dozen huts haphazardly lined up by the side of the road. Again, Miranda showed the photo around, but nobody had seen Glenn.

  “Are you sure?” she asked the middle-aged man with missing bottom teeth who seemed to be the small community’s leader.

  The man brushed off his simple peasant clothes. “I can only tell you what I told the soldiers, señorita. I did not see that man. He didn’t come here.”

  Her heart rate picked up. “You told the soldiers that?”

  “Sí.”

  “When?”

  He paled and stepped back. “I can’t tell you no more, señorita. No gringo here. You go now. I don’t want trouble.” He made a shooing motion toward her and Roberto, then turned and hurried away.

  She grinned.

  Roberto raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s lying?”

  “No. But if the soldiers were looking for Glenn, that means he escaped. There’s a good chance he’s still alive.” The first piece of good news she’d gained since she’d arrived in the country.

  By tomorrow this time, he’d be out of danger, Glenn thought as he limped into Santa Elena de Uairén, keeping an eye out for soldiers. A whole week passed since he’d come across the illegal logging operation in the forest. Hiding in the back of one of the trucks, stealing food and water at night, had worked out better than he’d expected.

  The loggers had cut across to Route 10 under Guri Lake, then drove south through Canaima National Park. They weren’t cutting, so Glenn figured they were scouting new territory. He’d jumped off when they turned north again two days later. Then he’d walked and come across an indigenous village. Just in time. If he hadn’t found the witchdoctor, he would have probably lost his right foot to gangrene.

  He was just recovering his full strength. If he had to limp all the way to Brazil, then so be it. He had the map and the clothes he’d lifted off the loggers, even a decent pair of boots. He was ready.

  He glanced back. No sign of Winky. The monkey had followed him all this time, even bringing him fruit from the forest every once in a while. But it seemed the animal drew the line at entering the city.

  Glenn shook his head. You knew you spent too much time in the jungle when your best friend was a monkey.

  He moved forward. He needed supplies for his trip across the border.

  Once in Brazil, he’d head to Boa Vista—about a hundred and thirty miles from Santa Elena, according to the map. He could hitch a ride on the road. He wasn’t wanted in Brazil, he wouldn’t have to hide in the woods and make his own way. He could take transportation from Boa Vista to the US embassy in Rio and request a new passport, then fly home to Baltimore.

  Glenn pulled his floppy green hat low over his face as he walked through the maze of huts on the outskirts of the city. He did nothing to draw attention to himself and soon reached a more affluent area with houses, then the main drag with shops.

  Santa Elena was the closest settlement to the border, a fairly large town from what he could see. They had to have police.

  Did the local officers have his picture? He was less than ten miles from safety. As long as nobody recognized him.

  He kept his head down as he crossed the road, nearly tripping over his own battered feet in surprise when a voice called out his name.

  “Glenn! Glenn Danning!”

  Oh. The past hit her with a force of a tank, and Miranda felt blown over.

  She moved toward him. Glenn.

  He was not the geeky college student she remembered—and he didn’t resemble the image on the grainy parking garage video either—but he was Glenn. Her lungs struggled for breath as memories rushed her, feelings she’d long forgotten.

  She should have looked him up long before now. They could have been friends again.

  He’d lost weight. His face was gaunt. He walked with a limp. No more expensive business suit, he was dressed like a native, poised to run before recognition dawned on his face.

  “Jesus. Don’t yell my name. Miranda?” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her. “What are you doing here?”

  Okay, the voice was him, exactly the same, floating through her, bringing back a million more memories. She shoved them all aside and for a second just luxuriated in sweet relief.

  “I came to take you back home.” Impulse pushed her to hug him but, okay, she was here in an official capacity, and he seemed keen to keep some distance between them.

  Why wasn’t he more excited? “What’s wrong?”

  The way he kept his head down and kept glancing around reminded her of Oreo, an abused dog her aunt had adopted when she’d been a kid. No matter how much love that dog received, she always acted like she was expecting a kick.

  The Glenn she remembered had a meticulously ordered way about him and confidence that came from his mental abilities and family background. Now he looked scruffy and uncertain.

  “What happened to you at Guri?”

  He looked ready to flee.

  “Wait,” she said. There’d be time for questions later. Step one was to reassure him. “The United States government sent me to return you to US soil. I’m here to save you.” She grinned.

  He didn’t return her enthusiasm. He frowned as he checked up and down the street once again, his steel-gray eyes confused and wary. “You came with the army?”

  “I’m not with the army anymore. I came with a local investigator.”

  While she’d been showing Glenn’s photo around on the streets, Roberto had gone to the lodge to book them rooms. They’d slept in the car on the side of the road for a few hours last night, but they needed more rest, a shower, and something to eat.

  She smiled at Glenn. “We’ve driven across the whole country.”

  But Glenn wasn’t listening. Keeping his head low, he hurried away from her, half running, half limping toward a narrow side street.

  She caught up with him. Put a hand on his arm. “I’m on assignment here to take you back.”

  He shrugged her off and kept going, his eyes filled with alarm. “You can’t trust the locals.”

  “I know.” She had no intention of taking Glenn to Roberto. “Come on.”

  He hesitated. “Where are we going?”

  “Finding you a safe place to stay until I can come back and get you.” Her mind raced. She could spend the rest of the day pretending to search for Glenn, give up, tell Roberto she’s come to believe the colonel was right and Glenn had moved on to Brazil. Thank Roberto for his help, tell him she was moving her investigation across the border. Make a production out of having Roberto take her to the local airport, and fly away. Then rent a car in Brazil and come back for Glenn. “I can come back for you
in twenty-four hours.”

  “I have my own plans.”

  “Trust me.”

  He stopped at last in the shadow of a coffee shop’s doorway. Stared at her.

  She stared back. She’d found him. Bruised and battered, but alive.

  He reached out, touched the end of her short hair with caution, his eyes never leaving her face for a second. He breathed in and out slowly. “It’s hard to believe that you’re here.”

  The tightness that had squeezed her chest since she’d found out that he was missing eased. But beyond feeling ridiculously happy that he was found and safe, she felt some small sense of relief for herself too. She’d found him. In just three days. Mission accomplished. Maybe she was cut out for the job. Maybe she wasn’t too messed up. Maybe she could still do this.

  In some odd way, in finding him, she felt as if she found herself too, a little.

  She’d think about that later. Right now she needed to think about him. “As soon as you’re safely stashed away somewhere, I’ll call your family. They’ve been worried about you.”

  A police car rolled down the street, slowly, as if looking for someone. Glenn tucked his chin in and turned into the coffee shop, cut through it, among the tables, heading to the back exit. She hurried after him.

  They burst out into an alley and ran.

  Or rather, she did. He couldn’t keep up.

  She slowed. “Are you injured?”

  He shrugged, and her heart twisted.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Three days ago.”

  She wished she had some food on her. She matched her steps to his and they hurried out of the alley, down another street, and another.

  “Cops,” he hissed, skidding to a halt.

  Okay, she saw them, another blue car cruising.

  Glenn turned back, and they cut through an empty lot, came out on one of the wider streets. She glanced around. They’d be too out in the open here. She wanted to find an abandoned store or a boarded-up house where Glenn could hide for a day. Not on a busy street like this though. They needed to check more side streets.

  She headed toward the nearest turnoff with Glenn, but couldn’t see the type of place she was looking for. She did spot a small eatery, however. Nobody would look at them twice in a hole-in-the-wall place like this.

  “Come on.” She hurried forward. “I’m treating you to a meal.” They should be safe. Roberto was making arrangements on the city’s main drag at the tourist lodge.

  Glenn’s jaw tightened. He looked like he was going to argue, but hunger won out and he went with her. “We’ll have to be fast.”

  The smell of frying meat hit them as they stepped inside, the place a single large room, mostly locals around the tables. Her heart twisted as she watched Glenn swallow repeatedly. “Hey, we have time for a bite.” She smiled.

  They went to the back and took a table in the corner. She ordered soup for the both of them. He’d better start with something light.

  He kept looking at other people eating, then glancing to the door. He’d been abused, badly, she thought, and silently cursed the Guri commander. “I have a lot of questions.”

  “Not here.”

  She nodded. They’d have time. She had found Glenn. Alive. She grinned. Right now she just wanted him to relax and eat, but before their soup arrived, Roberto strode in, and her euphoria dimmed.

  Roberto hurried toward them, a too-wide smile on his face. “Señor Danning?”

  Glenn’s entire body stiffened. He cast a quick glance around, half lifting from his chair, ready to run for it, but Roberto was next to them in seconds.

  He lifted his hands, palms out, in the common gesture of no-harm-intended. He flashed Miranda an impressed smile before turning to Glenn again. “We’ve been looking for you. I’m glad we’ve found you at last.”

  Glenn checked him over. Miranda knew the exact moment he spotted the concealed weapon. His face tightened.

  Roberto dropped into the chair on Miranda’s other side, boxing her into the corner, his eyes on Glenn. “Tell us what happened.”

  Unease put Miranda on alert. How was it possible that Roberto strolled into the same off-the-beaten-path eatery as they had, several blocks from where she’d left him?

  Glenn glared. “Your National Guard kidnapped me. They accused me of being a spy.” He kept his voice low so nobody beyond their table would hear.

  Roberto leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. “Why?”

  “Finding that out is second on my to-do list, right below getting out of this damned country.”

  “We’ll drive up to Caracas, then fly back to the US,” Miranda put in. Would Roberto let them? She wanted badly for him to be what he seemed, a helpful partner interested in justice.

  “I’d rather go to Brazil.” Glenn looked pointedly at Roberto. “I don’t trust anyone in this country.”

  Miranda put a hand on his. However this played out, she was going to get Glenn back home. “Just trust me.”

  But even as she said that, armed guardsmen rushed into the restaurant and headed straight toward them. Oh shit.

  Glenn ran for the back door, cursing, and was gone in two seconds, Roberto darting after him. Miranda was only a few steps behind them. “No! Wait!”

  “Alto! Alto!” Half a dozen rifles pointed at her.

  She froze, anger steaming through her. “Okay. Don’t shoot.”

  She raised her hands into the air and bent forward as if to drop to her knees in surrender. But instead, she grabbed a chair and threw it at the soldiers, then sprinted through the back door as shots flew by her.

  She burst outside. Came to a screeching halt. Oh, hell. More guardsmen waited out back.

  She slammed her back against the door so their buddies couldn’t follow her, reached for her weapon, and pointed it straight at Roberto’s head as he was slapping handcuffs on Glenn, looking pretty satisfied with himself.

  “Let him go,” she demanded. “Put your weapons down.”

  But instead of telling his men to obey, Roberto smiled at her.

  “I will shoot.” She meant it. She had a dozen bullets and only seven men against her. She had a fair chance.

  The door banged against her back, but she held steady, bracing herself with her feet. The nearest soldier grabbed for her. She moved her aim from Roberto and shot at her attacker.

  Nothing happened.

  She squeezed the trigger again. Yet no matter how many times she tried, the weapon didn’t fire. Fear shot through her then.

  She threw the gun at the man with a curse. She’d been surprised that Roberto would give her a weapon. Of course, if he’d fixed it so it wouldn’t work . . . But why give her a weapon at all? She cursed again as she understood at last. GPS locator—probably in a hollow bullet. That was how he’d found her.

  The soldiers behind her burst through the door at last, propelling her forward, into the hands of men waiting for her. She knocked two down, flipped the third. But the rest rushed her all at once and overpowered her.

  One of the soldiers grabbed her and twisted her arm behind her back to hold her in place as she struggled.

  “Get your hands off me! I’m here under the full protection of the United States government. I have a badge.”

  Her credentials didn’t impress the guy. He didn’t budge an inch.

  Roberto handed Glenn over to another batch of soldiers. The men shoved him over to a waiting army truck, the back canvas covered. They boosted him up.

  “Roberto!” Miranda struggled. “You can’t do this. This is an illegal arrest.”

  He kept his expression shuttered as he walked over. “Sorry, señorita. I wish this could have ended differently, but we don’t tolerate spies in our country, the same way you don’t tolerate them in yours.”

  As he patted her d
own and took her phone, wallet, and badge, she felt nothing but outrage. “I’m not a spy, for heaven’s sake, and neither is Glenn Danning!”

  His face remained emotionless as he held out handcuffs for her.

  The soldier let her go. There were guardsmen all around, all armed. Glenn was already in the back of the truck. No way to escape.

  She held her hands out for the cuffs as she seethed. She needed to go with Glenn. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight.

  “Are you even with the police?” she asked Roberto.

  Roberto’s smile held a twinge of regret. He held her hands for a second after he cuffed her. “DISIP.”

  Dirección de los Servicios de Inteligencia y Prevención—the Venezuelan equivalent of the CIA. Because for some idiotic reason they thought Glenn was a spy. She grit her teeth.

  “Listen, you’re making a big mistake here,” she called back as one of the men began shoving her toward the back of the truck.

  “We call it apprehension and recovery.” Roberto nodded to the soldiers, and they hoisted her into the truck without ceremony.

  Four soldiers came up behind her, pushing the prisoners to the back while they sat closer to the tailgate. The green canvas flap dropped down, closing them in. Someone shouted orders outside, then the engine revved and the truck lurched forward.

  Shit, shit, shit, dammit!

  One dark thought after another flew through her head as she began to fully understand their situation. They were branded as spies. The Venezuelan government was going to deny all knowledge of her disappearance as they’d denied Glenn’s. The only way for Venezuela to come out of this without an international incident was for both of them to disappear without a trace.

  They were as good as dead.

  Cold sweat rolled down her spine. She caught Glenn’s gaze as he sat on the wooden bench across from her, his entire body rigid, his face flushed with fury.

  “We have to escape,” she mouthed.

  He didn’t bother to keep his voice down as he responded. “I would have been out of the country by morning if you hadn’t shown up.” His gaze boiled with anger.

  Oh, he was mad at her.