Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

by Ronda Pauley

  “Miss Sobori. She knows about me?”

  “Yes, and you can trust her. She’s working hard for you. Furthermore, she resembles you, a pretty good fit! A few pounds heavier, of course. I want you to help her with how she does her hair, and to talk and dress like you. Basically, how to be you. Just enough to fool someone at a distance. Gopher and Ramon won’t actually get close to her. Our people will see to it.”

  “OK. That should be fun.”

  “So, as soon as you’re up to it, we’ll get started.”

  “I’m ready now,” Tina said. “Did you clear this with my dad?”

  “Of course. He gives his approval as long as you stay in cognito and safe. He wants these people caught as much as you do. We just want to make sure we’re the ones who get them before your father could.”

  Tina laughed.

  “I’m serious. Your father’s pretty upset about what happened to you. Well, I have things I must do. I’ll check with Miss Sobori and see how soon she can pay you a visit. I think you’ll like her. Bye, Sweetie!”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up!” Tina said. “I have some friends who have been trying to reach me.”

  “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I know that’s hard but absolutely not. We can’t let anything slip right now. Definitely not now, maybe never.”

  “OK. I had to ask,” Tina was intensely disappointed. “Can’t I even let them know I’m alive?”

  “No. We’re giving you a new chance at life. Maria died. She’s going to help us nail Gopher, and then we’re going to let her rest in peace.”

  FIFTY-ONE

  After she dressed for the meeting with staff in the Operation Missing Shoe headquarters right there above the museum, Abbi caught her reflection in the mirror.

  “Miss Kowalski, you look so old!” she said to her new persona.

  The stress from worry, restless sleep and bad dreams were making an old woman out of her. She tried to add a little foundation to cover dark circles. Her already dark, thick lashes looked good. Frankly, she was too tired to care. She had been thinking about her father. What condition was he in? What happened to him? Why so much secrecy? These questions added worry lines to her face. Worry lines. She was too young for worry lines.

  “Cosmetics won’t make up for lack of sleep,” Mademoiselle Soufflé said. “But they’ll help. Let’s clear up your eyes and make them pop with some liner and eye shadow. It’s good that you look older, but not good to look so tired!” Louise was giving her artistic hand to the eyes. “Now just a hint of blush. Sometimes less really is more. Try that.”

  A little lipstick helped brighten her outlook as well as her face.

  “Thanks,” Abbi said. “That’s refreshing, more positive. But you, dahling, look absolutely fantabulous! How DO you do it?”

  Louise laughed, “I told you, magazines. But sometimes I would go with my mom and we’d get makeovers at the mall. That’s fun. We’ll do it sometime. OK?”

  “OK. Oh, my wig!” Abbi almost forgot and laughed as she adjusted it. She wasn’t used to being this girly but she liked it.

  Abbi and Louise hadn’t been best friends for long because their differences used to get in the way. Not so much anymore. Theirs had become a pleasingly complex relationship.

  When she and Louise were ready to leave the apartment, Abbi attempted to relax her body by breathing in deeply, out slowly. As her stress lessened, Abbi turned to Louise, gave her the warmest smile she could muster, and raised up her hand for the secret fist bump they shared.

  “Ever together,” Louise whispered. “Fred’s Boots Incorporated to the rescue.”

  Abbi smiled and nodded.

  “I like that,” she said. “Hey, they’re changing the way they want to do the drop, and I want you to know they may be leaving us out.”

  “Abbi, that’s fine. This is getting way too dangerous.”

  “But I still want to be part of it.”

  “I know.”

  The phone rang as they were about to leave the room.

  “It’s Big Sam,” Abbi whispered. “I hope I didn’t upset him again.”

  Louise shook her head.

  “I want you to bring two things,” Big Sam said. “All the notes and materials you’ve gathered and the listening devices. By the way, you’re going to be key in moving this thing forward. Be prepared to speak.”

  Abbi and Louise were now dressed in business casual and carrying their briefcases. They left their suite at four minutes before five. The hallway looked more familiar now and they turned left toward Operation Missing Shoe headquarters for this meeting that Abbi both anticipated with excitement and dreaded.

  She pressed her thumbprint onto a small box in the panel. That was another thing that made her wonder. Why did they have her thumbprint?

  After a brief hum, the panel turned and exposed a door. Two knocks on the door brought Lowell into sight at a two-way mirror.

  Gate Keeper asked their identities.

  Still a little tense, Abbi wanted to yell ‘Lowell, it’s us’ but instead, she played the game, a game that involved very high stakes. Lowell was enjoying this way too much. She tried to see the fun in it.

  “Miss Kowalski and Mademoiselle Soufflé as requested, sir. Looking for the missing shoe.”

  A beep sounded.

  “Follow me,” Gate Keeper said. “Glad you arrived punctually. We’re about to start the meeting.”

  Abbi’s heart started racing. She remembered to speak only when spoken to, not an easy task for her. Up until recently, so many questions, so few answers. Now she had answers, key answers, and she wanted this group to know. Aside from HT, these were the power people.

  Everyone looked posed, as if for a photo session. Chairs placed around the room were old, somewhat mismatched. It was not unlike walking into an antique shop, the obligatory room with the odd chairs. The assortment of people could have been a scene from Clue.

  A woman was saying, “This place is totally unsuitable for a staff meeting. And parking is a bitch.”

  Someone asked, “Why drive?”

  Abbi overheard the thin man, always in a gray suit, say almost inaudibly, “There’s a reason we’re here. Something about ‘too obvious to be obvious’.”

  A young man in a hoodie and jeans said, “Is that possible?”

  The woman laughed at him and said, “Think about it. A man wearing a hoodie? You look like you’re about to rob a bank.”

  The guy with the hoodie nodded and said, “I like to play around with my look. Besides, no one hassles me on the metro when I look like this. Keeps everyone on their toes.”

  “And now you know why I drive,” the woman said with a chuckle.

  For a moment Abbi was struck by the fact that all the people who gathered were highly trained and yet, underneath it all, they were still human and enjoyed joking around.

  A desk in one corner held a small laptop where the woman sat and rested her fingers on the keyboard. She was obviously ready to begin.

  “Miss Kowalski and Mademoiselle Soufflé have arrived,” Gate Keeper said and then went back into the hallway.

  The tall slender man seemed to be in charge. He stood up and nodded toward them.

  “We’re a little cramped in these accommodations. Everyone, try to find a seat. Let’s begin with debriefing. We’ll catch you up to speed with the latest.”

  Everyone got seated.

  He continued, “We are in the midst of learning more about the far-reaching hand of the Central American underworld. It has been creeping into our very cities and towns and robbing us of our children. Our attempts to bring it under control have not met with success. Somehow they learned about our sting operation as it was unfolding, putting all of us in a risky situation.”

  He turned to face Abbi and Louise.

  “This is where you ladies come in with your technical skills. We have reason to believe that you have managed to gather information, the kind of stuff that the rest of us had been unable to obtain. For that I thank you.”
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  Abbi looked around the room and wondered if the person who could not be trusted was in the room now. There was a gaggle of negotiators she had seen before, Big Sam, Gate Keeper, the woman in the corner, and the thin man, apparently known by others in the room with no introduction needed. The man in the hoodie looked a lot like Shoe Clerk. Was he? His hair was long and messy. Scott was waiting outside the door. Miss Sobori and Mrs. Hightower, also key players, were not present.

  “Miss Kowalski, I turn the meeting over to you. We have a multimedia projector for you to use if you choose to share some things with this group. I believe everyone here can be trusted with this information. Whoever leaked information to NM2 is somewhere beyond these walls. We are expecting a U. S. Attorney to arrive shortly who will update us and assist with planning.”

  Abbi swallowed hard, taking this as her cue to catch the staff up on her recent discoveries regarding her mother’s unpublished report on a group called NM (Nuestra Madre) and its rebellious faction NM2. She had information that was sure to help in identifying the names of her mother’s captors. There were layers of information to divulge about NM2. Explaining it would be like trying to peel an onion, only the stench inside was worse.

  She stood up and spoke.

  “Thank you for inviting me. I believe I speak for Mrs. Hightower. I’d like to catch everyone up on what we know so far. The unsubmitted reports I was able to uncover reveal that Miss Shoe may have been taken hostage because she had maneuvered into a trusted position within an organization known for its human rights activities in South America. Quite possibly, although she had gained their trust because she respected some of what they did, they came to see Miss Shoe’s involvement as a potential threat that would result in their undoing. The group she infiltrated was Nuestra Madre. Some of you may know it as ‘Our Mother’ or NM. But she was subsequently pulled off that operation.”

  “It might help if you shed light on why she was pulled off,” Big Sam said, interrupting Abbi. “Before she answers that, let’s get audio and video equipment in place. You’ll want to record this. This may be old news to the negotiators who have been staying on top of this but it bears repeating to get everyone up to speed.”

  Cameras and audio equipment were set up so that the group could replay the interview over and over.

  “Please state your name and start again.”

  Abbi gave her name as Miss Abigail Kowalski and then repeated what she had said before about NM.

  “And Miss Shoe was pulled off that operation. Is that correct?” the thin man asked.

  She felt that she was being cross-examined.

  “Yes, it’s a matter of record.”

  “Does the record state why?”

  “That’s classified, but basically, their threat to us was not a national concern, not nearly as severe as another group. What Miss Shoe uncovered in her research and her involvement with NM was a much more sinister and dangerous group, a faction that split from the original group. NM2 is the organization that holds her now. It’s a big cannon with a short fuse, transnational and infiltrating a number of cities in the United States.”

  “Wait!” the woman at the keyboard said. “We’re dealing with NM, just what we said before. Right? You lost me. They’re the ones who made the double-botched suicide bomber attempt. I don’t know what this NM2 shit is about.”

  “Whoa,” Abbi said. She didn’t expect to be talked to this way.

  “Then, what is it you’re driving at, Miss Kowalski? I’ve heard about your lofty theory before,” the woman said.

  “Hear her out, Mrs. Polter, and it will make sense. In the meantime, let’s retain an air of civility. Miss Kowalski provides us with the answers you want,” the thin man said.

  “Yes, sir,” the woman said. “I was merely seeking clarification.” Mrs. Polter’s tone changed abruptly from haughty to meek.

  Abbi stood up so that everyone would hear clearly. She was tired of misconceptions.

  “The evidence is here in the reports I brought. NM isn’t out to bomb buildings in Washington, D.C. Their cause is human rights, the same as The Organization of American States. They believe in peaceful resolution. If what I have learned is true, a few members of this group get a little overzealous but these are not people who would consider using suicide bombers. They might do some things that are unlawful but they are actually against such forms of violence.”

  “So you’re saying it’s a different group of people who did the bombings,” Mrs. Polter said, seeking clarification.

  “Exactly. NM2 started out under the umbrella of NM but has broken away. Try to separate the two in your mind. I’m pretty sure NM doesn’t have a problem with The Organization of American States or the building it’s housed in. They know the member states are seeking diplomatic ways to help get necessary food and supplies into the poor outlying areas of their country. That’s their big cause. They’d be shooting themselves in the foot to disrupt diplomacy. And they don’t want to create a problem with the U.S.”

  To explain more about NM to others in the room who may not know, Abbi pulled out the folders from the briefcase, folders holding her mother’s drawings, notes and reports. These items would show valuable information her mother had uncovered.

  A multimedia projector had been placed on a small table in front of her. The bare end wall of the conference room served as a screen. Abbi placed selected pages under a document projector and shined the contents on the bare white wall for all to read.

  “As you can see, when new recruits came NM, the revolutionary leadership didn’t tell new recruits that the organization would also be training them to do unlawful acts for the good of the organization.”

  She explained that the girls’ roles were usually different than the boys’ roles. Girls were required to do the menial domestic chores and were called domestic servants. NM liked to think of it as indentured servitude except that, once in, there was no escape. In her mother’s report, her mother said it was a form of contemporary slavery.

  “Are we talking sex slavery?” the thin man asked. Abbi wanted to know his name.

  “With NM, no, not really. Some girls were encouraged to have children for the organization, to increase numbers.”

  Abbi read from her mother’s notes:

  “The leaders of the main group [that’s NM] want what everyone wants. All people have the same basic needs. They want to be assured of these things. Some people call their movement ‘anarchy’. Some call it ‘revolution’. Some call it ‘anti-government activity’. And, to some, becoming a part of NM is their only way to survive, the only way to have food security. That’s how most children, even American children in poor Latino communities, get caught in this trap.”

  Abbi explained that under this system, boys were trained to do manual labor. “Some would be in agriculture, such as the coffee industry. Others would work to gain memberships for NM,” she said. “This meant they would occasionally kidnap children who fit the profile of the ‘unhappy’ or ‘at-risk’ child. Those children could be lured by the promise of food and a bed and would eventually become workers for the organization.”

  “So far, you’re talking about NM. Right?” the thin man asked.

  “Right. Then NM2, made up of some young radicals, took this business plan a few steps farther. In order to raise more money, this faction became violent and involved in drug trafficking. Miss Shoe said, ‘Violence begets violence.’ In addition to the drug trafficking, NM2 moved into a different kind of trafficking. Recruitment practices were markedly different. NM2 found that pretty girls could be lured, sometimes kidnapped, and would be used to raise money through the sex trade, a quick way to turn a lot more money.”

  “In addition,” Abbi explained, “although the organizational leaders of Nuestra Madre did not want violence, most of the male children were trained to be soldiers regardless of what job they were given in order to protect themselves. Again, NM2 carried this out differently, with emphasis on aggression rather than self-defense
.”

  “So these are now very different groups. Different leadership?” Mrs. Polter asked.

  “This is critical to understand,” said a different voice. “Please proceed, Miss Kowalski.”

  Abbi turned to see the U.S. Attorney she had met at the law complex in Virginia.

  “Thank you. Yes, these groups are under different leadership. There’s only a very loose connection, based on Miss Shoe’s exhaustive research. And she basically watched as the small faction NM2 grew very quickly and spread rapidly over just a few short years. Suddenly, it has become a threat to the world community. Think of it as a radically dangerous street gang that grew exponentially and is now throughout the Western Hemisphere.”

  "Could they be the ones who made the suicide attempts to bomb the OAS?” the U. S. Attorney asked.

  Abbi hesitated. She took a deep breath and continued, realizing they were treading on shaky ground.

  “I couldn’t say. Although it’s possible, it seems unlikely. Until there are more answers, we should proceed cautiously and not assume that it was either NM or NM2. My biggest concern, and the reason I’m here, is the rescue of Miss Shoe. My belief is that negotiations will run more smoothly if we don’t rush to place blame. The bombings could have been the result of some maniac with a grudge who should have been in an institution instead of making bombs in his apartment. Let’s just be very careful here.”

  “What is Miss Shoe’s theory on how NM2 spread so rapidly?”

  “She thought the new members who came into it from outside the base country may have been arrested or forced to leave the country for their illicit acts of crime. When some of them were sent back home to their own countries, the local judicial systems did not know who had authority over their cases. The criminals were sometimes slapped on the hand and then returned to the streets. Sometimes they were just ignored.”

  “That’s true, Miss Kowalski. But a few ended up in federal court and are now in prison,” said the U. S. Attorney, “and, yes, they tie directly to the newly-formed NM2. They started as a loose radical affiliation with NM and then rapidly evolved into NM2. Even in prison, they have profound influence on their people on the outside. The fact of their imprisonment added fuel to the fire, and their influence spread very quickly around the U.S. and moved this loosey-goosey group into the international arena, with only a very loose tie to Nuestra Madre.”