Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

by Ronda Pauley

  When she left the restroom, a technician waited outside her door to take the specimen to the lab.

  The nurse practitioner stood at the examination room door, still smiling. She weighed Tina, took her blood pressure, and managed to smile her way through drawing blood, suggesting that, if Tina didn’t want to feel the sting of the needle so acutely, she could study a painting on the wall.

  That reminded Tina of times she would study a crack on the ceiling, back in the cantina, and she was proud of herself when she was able to dismiss that memory. She even smiled back at the NP for suggesting the painting and didn’t wince at the blood test. In retrospect, the blood drawing was minor.

  Throughout the entire exam the NP smiled and talked only briefly when she needed Tina to disrobe, put on a gown, and lie back on the examination table.

  “You’ll want privacy, so I’m going to leave the room for just a few minutes,” Teresa said.

  Tina felt grateful for the privacy, folded her clothes carefully and pulled the cloth gown tightly around her before the NP returned. She searched for strings to tie it.

  Before she was ready, there was a knock on the door.

  “May I come in now?” the NP asked and cautiously opened the door. Tina was still looking for tie strings.

  “I’m sorry, Tina. It just gaps open. Here’s an additional little coverup for you. I want you to know I’m not a certified OB/GYN, but I’ve had the training for these tests. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be the one to give you a pelvic exam and a PAP smear. I’m only here to help you.”

  Tina agreed. She didn’t want Dr. Feldman touching her. The NP said nothing during this part of the exam and gave no indication that she knew about Tina’s ordeal.

  By the end of the exam, the Nurse Practitioner had done a comprehensive STD test packge that included, among other things, Hepatitis strains A, B, and C. Some of the tests were already conclusive, she told Tina, but not all of them. Regardless, she felt she had enough information to move forward with a suggestion for treatment.

  “We’ll wait and see what else might show up, but for now, let’s get you on an aggressive HCV treatment. It can be a little harsh, so you’ll want to get plenty of rest to help your body deal with it. Get to bed early every night and try not to eat a big meal right before bedtime. Drink a lot of clear fluids to flush your body. Strive to be happy.”

  Teresa smiled and Tina smiled back.

  “That’s really important, being happy and rested. And also remember, Tina, I’m here if you just want to talk. Here’s my card. Feel free to call.”

  Teresa signed the card and wrote her cell phone number on it.

  Tina left the exam feeling like she had a friend. She smiled when she gave her father the prescription.

  “I’m going to get better,” she said.

  Before they left the clinic, Teresa came out to talk with Tina’s father.

  “Can you step into my office for a couple of minutes, Mr. Benson?” she asked. “Tina, it’s OK if you come too.”

  “Mr. Benson, my name is Teresa. Thanks for filling out some of the paperwork. Your daughter’s health is a real concern to me but we seem to have caught this early. Here’s a list of our results so far and a treatment plan.”

  Teresa handed him some papers and continued, “This brochure will help show you what we’re up against. Please follow-through on this treatment and be sure Tina is getting enough rest. This would be a good time for pampering at home: good food, quiet games, music, books to read, movies, and so forth. There’s also a prescription. Please try to get it filled today.”

  She turned to Tina and said, “Come back in two months unless you get a fever. If your fever returns, you’ll need to get medical attention fast. If anything further shows up on these tests, I’ll contact you. I want to see a much healthier and much happier young lady when you return. And, Tina, if you have questions or just want to talk, remember you can call me anytime.”

  Tina smiled again.

  THIRTY

  Abbi hurried to the SUV where Scott and Louise were waiting.

  “That man is one of the gang members,” she whispered.

  “Relax. He’s one of our plants,” Scott said. “He works for us.”

  “A plant?” Louise asked.

  “How do you know?” Abbi asked.

  “First of all, I was expecting him. Second, notice that his car has a government license plate. He’ll be heading to the woods as soon as the operation gets in full swing. Believe it or not, he’s a sniper and no one will see him. In fact, you’ll probably pass right by him when you go into the woods to do your drop.”

  “How do you know so much?” Louise asked.

  “I’ve been at this a long time,” Scott said.

  Out of the blue, Louise asked, “You’re not married, are you?”

  “Whoa, girl! What do you want to eat? Sandwich or pizza?” Abbi asked, interrupting Louise’s line of questioning.

  “I was just politely chit-chatting,” Louise said in self defense. “Pizza sounds good.”

  “Scott?”

  “I’m good,” he said.

  “You guys never eat,” Abbi said. “I’m also getting a salad. Anyone else?”

  Abbi placed the order and they drove toward Tanglewood Mall for pick-up.

  “Do you mind if I shop after we eat?” Louise asked.

  “No shopping,” Scott said. “I’m on the clock.”

  “I’m not,” Louise protested.

  “Louise, we’re just going to get our food and get back. I want to be ready for the mission and I want this whole thing to be over soon!” Abbi said.

  “So it looks like we could spend days at that dreary hotel and I won’t get any shopping done,” Louise said. She turned her shoulder to Abbi and sat sulking as they drove around to the pick-up window.

  Abbi tried to hand Scott some of Mrs. Hightower’s expense money to pay for the meal, but Scott said he’d get it this time and he could turn in the receipt for reimbursement.

  “I don’t want to eat in the room. It’s dirty-looking in there,” Louise said, still pouting.

  “You can eat in here,” Scott said. “We do all the time.”

  “Then please eat, Scott. You bought it and there’s plenty!” Abbi said.

  She suggested finding a picnic table but admitted she was too hungry to wait. She passed around the food and began on her salad. The driver chose to wait, as Abbi suspected he would. He drove instead back to the hotel.

  When they pulled into the parking lot, Abbi studied the suspicious car. She just had a bad feeling about it. The license plate was not Government Issue. In fact, a sticker in the back window showed that this was a rental from somewhere in Virginia.

  “Scott, I think it’s not what you think,” she said as she noted the license plate.

  “Let me remind you not to jump to conclusions. Just to prove it’s safe, I’ll have someone in I-T check out its status. This should only take a few minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Abbi said as Scott pulled the SUV around the building.

  Scott took a piece of the pizza. The three of them sat and ate in silence, waiting for the report to come back. While they waited, Abbi was aware that the afternoon sun was moving across the sky and rain would soon be falling. She checked the phone periodically for the time. Hurry and wait. Waiting didn’t come easy for her.

  Louise kept trying in vain to extract personal information from the driver and throw in what she thought might be interesting information about herself, like the fact that she wanted to become an accountant. Scott nodded thoughtfully and told her the government could always use good accountants.

  Finally the phone call came and Scott took it on speaker phone to prove his point to Abbi.

  “Scott, that is not one of us. I repeat. He’s not one of us. Your man got delayed in Roanoke traffic. He thinks he’s about 30 minutes out. Wait for him before you do anything. He’s driving a white unmarked SUV.”

  “What about this guy? He appears to ha
ve the NM tattoos.”

  “He could be the real thing,” the I-T person said. “The car is a rental from Unity Car Rentals in Roanoke. He’s probably local, probably knows the area, and may have provided a fictitious I.D. when he rented the car. Consider him armed and dangerous.”

  “Great. I’ve got two young ladies with me.”

  “Call for backup and stay out of fire.”

  “Thanks, Pell! You came through again!”

  Abbi thought about that. Was it Pell or Pal he said? Louise perked up too and her eyes got wide.

  Scott was calling for backup when Louise asked him, “Do you know that man? The one you called Pell?”

  “Just a minute,” he said quickly. He had an incoming call and was trying to handle both calls.

  Finally, he said, “OK, ladies. It’s about to get dicey. We have word that Miss Shoe is approaching this state. They’re tracking her, I’m not sure how they’re doing it. Her phone is still in Mexico.”

  “Thank God!” Abbi said with an audible sigh, thinking of her mother’s Smart Shoes. It was beyond horrible to think her mother came close to being sold to someone in Brazil.

  “That means you’re probably going to do the drop, Miss Kowalski. If that’s the case, Big Sam will give you details at the briefing this evening.”

  Abbi’s heartbeat became a trapped bird fluttering wildly inside her ribcage.

  “OK! That’s why I’m here! You think today?”

  Scott was pulling the SUV back onto the highway.

  “Maybe. It depends on negotiations but it’s almost 1700 hours now. We may be in our meeting while negotiations take place. Those could last all night. A sniper unit is on the way here. We’re going back to police headquarters to avoid any crossfire. By the way, Miss Kowalski, you have a good eye for details. I owe you one!”

  Abbi tried to inhale deeply, breathing slowly. She needed to get her brain thinking clearly. She wished she hadn’t eaten so much.

  “I saw it too, Scott. Does my wig look OK? Abbi took hers off,” Louise said, and shrugged at Abbi. “And how do you know Pell?”

  “That’s a lot of questions. Pell’s a friend. The wig—who cares? That’s the least of our concern,” Scott said. “You can’t go back to the room to get it now, Abbi. Let’s see what Big Sam has in mind.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Scott took the girls to the law complex early. Many of the others had not yet arrived. Abbi and Louise had their badges on and were again taken to the conference room and seated at the large table where they were offered coffee and water by one of the FBI staffers.

  Scott waited in the hallway, intently talking on his phone. Abbi had hoped that he would go retrieve her wig before this briefing began. If he didn’t, she would just try to blend into the wallpaper. No one would even notice, except Louise of course.

  “He is so hot!” Louise said. “I’d boink him in a heartbeat.”

  “Louise, really. Do you even know why we’re here?” Abbi asked and added, “Drink some coffee and stuff a doughnut in that potty mouth.”

  “Well, I would!” Louise said.

  They both laughed.

  Suddenly, Abbi received a beep.

  CONTACT W/ NM2 UNDERWAY. NEGOTIATING TERMS. YES!

  Abbi showed the text to Louise.

  “That sounds like Lowell,” Louise said.

  “Do you think?” Abbi asked.

  At that moment Big Sam walked into the conference room.

  The chief of police stood up, looking at a clipboard of names from the earlier meeting.

  “I believe we’re here. Everyone’s accounted for. Sam, the meeting is all yours.”

  “Thank you! Good to see everyone back. We have successfully tracked Miss Shoe and opened negotiations with the captors via a third party. I’m going to ask everyone to withhold judgment as we move forward. Anything can happen but we want to hold off on gunfire if at all possible. Our primary goal is simply the safe and secure ransom/rescue transfer. Beyond that it’s icing on the cake.”

  “What about a sting operation?”

  “If we’re just a honeybee going after an elephant, that won’t be much impact. We’ll see how this unfolds. First, allow me to introduce the Mexican Ambassador. He was helpful in a recent extraction out of Mexico and may have further insights into the workings of organized crime in Central America. I want to thank you, Mr. Ambassador, for your help and for coming to speak with us today.”

  There was applause for the Mexican Ambassador who stayed seated and addressed the group.

  “Thank you for having me. I can tell you this has been an embarrassment for the entire Latino community as well as for your country. The captors realize that agreeing to our terms is the best they can do right now. Of course, the compromise includes some rather dangerous provisions. We anticipate the release of Miss Shoe only if this negotiation is a success. The gang leaders are Latino. We have an interpreter from the FBI who has worked with us and is willing to interpret for us to secure a quick release. I believe you know her. We call her Senorita Sobori. Senorita Sobori, please stand.”

  There was obvious recognition followed by applause as the woman who led the morning meeting shyly nodded at them.

  The ambassador went on to tell those around the table other things about NM, hinting at the necessity of child labor to move the countries forward and the current dire life expectancy of people working in the outlying regions of South America. Although sad, he said, it was a fact of life.

  Told from his perspective, the story of NM did not fully correlate with the reports her mother had written after her months of indepth investigation, but Abbi realized that the focus of her mother’s notes had been on the rebellious faction NM2 and their reckless activity in human trafficking, primarily young girls trafficked as sex slaves. Right now, according to her mother’s notes, opposing forces of Nuestra Madre were going in different directions.

  Abbi empathized with the children who were being exploited for farm labor. She had the feeling the ambassador was comfortable enough in his position to ignore the struggles of the young people in favor of regaining stability of the region’s economy. What he presented to them was like a broken jigsaw puzzle with some of the pieces missing and other pieces in the wrong places. The problem that the ambassador didn’t see was that the remaining pieces of the broken picture were colored with muddy paint and tinged with the blood of children.

  While the ambassador focused his work on economic security for the region, he hinted that perhaps the need for child labor would someday cease. For now, it was merely a fact of life. Again the ambassador made no reference to the sex slaves being bought and sold by NM2.

  Maybe he really isn’t aware of it, Abbi thought.

  Abbi wondered at the multi-talented Miss Sobori. Perhaps if the ambassador’s information could be filtered through her eyes, with what she might also know from her association with Mrs. Hightower, more progress would be made for the children.

  Abbi stood up.

  “Mr. Ambassador, please work to improve the lives of the children, especially the ones who are stolen to become sex slaves,” Abbi said boldly, interrupting the ambassador’s speech.

  The ambassador looked surprised. All eyes turned to Abbi.

  “Of course,” he said, looking shocked but not sounding sincere. “Bear in mind, NM is not an entirely bad organization. I think we can reason with them.”

  “What about NM2?” Abbi asked.

  An awkward hush filled the room, followed with murmurings. Apparently not many people understood about this faction of the transnational gang.

  Miss Sobori stood up.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador, but Miss Kowalski raises a good point. This is precisely the reason we have all gathered here tonight. This issue of children being gathered up against their will and made to be sex slaves is appalling. Granted, NM, while being an underground crime organization, is part of the economic recovery in some of these areas, as sad as that seems. But that organization does not see eye
-to-eye with this relatively new faction, known as NM2, its own offspring. With careful negotiations taking place right now for the secure release of Miss Shoe, we are actually talking with the NM2 perpetrators of the child sex slave market. That’s why we’re hoping this is a sting operation and not merely a ransom drop.”

  “Is a sting really necessary? Wha…” the Ambassador started but was interrupted by Miss Sobori who no longer appeared shy. She spoke boldly to the group, stepping over the ambassador’s words.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador, but please understand that we will need your full cooperation and high level secrecy. The severity of the issue is much farther reaching than you choose to think. And the consequences could be dire. This is not the time to be subtle. For every young teenager or pre-pubescent teen we rescue, we know there are many we have been unable to find, may never find.”

  The people at the table turned their attention and admiration to Miss Sobori, and she continued to speak.

  “Allow me to bring the entire room up to speed on what has quickly been transpiring. One of your own, a police officer in Texas, experienced the agony of his own daughter who went missing a couple of months ago. She was a bright and talented young lady with a good future. She met a young man at a mall when she was with friends. He did what we call grooming—telling her how pretty she was, buying her jewelry, lavishing compliments on her. He even bought her some clothes, maybe not what you’d want a young girl to wear, but he gave her attention and was spending money on her.”

  She moved to a map.

  “Over the course of about a week he had won her trust, enough that when he invited her to visit his church in Mexico, she agreed. It was supposed to be fairly close to her hometown in Texas. She took her passport when she left home. That passport was quickly confiscated after they crossed the border. That church turned out to be a brothel in the back of a filthy Mexican cantina.”

  She pointed to the map, showing locations. Then she passed a photo around of the cantina and the grimy courtyard with its prison-like fencing and barbed wire.