Found at Sea
Page 15
“Of course we will. I don’t want to leave the boy here to starve,” Jordan said. “But that means we might have to postpone the jailbreak, while we wait for the extra papers.”
“Two or three days at the most,” Roberto said. “I will need cash money, American dinero, to pay my friend’s uncle.”
“How much?” Aurora asked, worried. “I’ve got some on me, but not much, and I have to make payroll soon.”
Jordan held up his hand. “I’ll cover expenses for now. We get word to Tanya, then you get the papers, Roberto, and we’ll go from there. Now...is that it? Have we forgotten anything?”
Yadira reentered the room with the freshly sanded plates, Alfonso carrying the stacked plastic cups. Stealing a glance at her brother, she shyly approached Aurora. “Would you take my perro with you, too?” she asked in a whisper. “Please, señorita, she is a very good perro. I will pay.”
The girl pulled a battered turquoise-and-silver clip from her hair and held it out.
“The dog?” Aurora said. “Sweetheart, you keep her with you. Only Alfonso will be coming on this trip. We will send for you and your family and your dog after I get Roberto’s work permit. Mancha would miss you if we took her now.”
Yadira started to say something but her mother and brother scolded her. Her shaking hand remained palm up with the offered payment, her eyes fastened on Aurora.
“He is just a little perro,” Yadira said in Spanish. “He will be good company for Alfonso until we come to San Diego.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t have paperwork for your dog. Not this trip, okay? He’d need vaccinations and everything.” Aurora smiled at the mournful Yadira and placed the silver-and-turquoise clip back in her long, glossy hair. The child hesitated and glanced toward her brother for reassurance. “She can come to San Diego when you do—maybe in a month or so,” Aurora told her.
If we’re not all in jail with Dorian and Tanya...
* * *
JORDAN AND ROBERTO made a partial payment for the paperwork and forged signatures. They would pay the remaining half when it was ready to be picked up in three days.
“Three days...” Tanya echoed when Aurora told her the plan at the women’s jail. “Are you ready for this?”
“Are you?” Aurora asked. “It won’t be easy.”
“Beats hanging around here,” Tanya said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Mom’s not getting better. I’m worried, Rory....”
So am I, Aurora refrained from saying.
Tanya, in her usual crass fashion, said, “If Mom doesn’t start mending soon, she won’t need a forged death certificate. She could get a real one.”
“Today is Wednesday,” Aurora whispered. “We’re supposed to get the paperwork early Thursday morning. The breakout is set for Saturday night. Unless you see me sooner, those are the plans.”
Tanya nodded. “If the jerks here hadn’t taken my wristwatch, I’d have us synchronize our watches like in the movies.”
Aurora started to remove hers.
“Don’t. I won’t be allowed to keep it. Besides, there’s a clock in the dispensary. I’ll use that.”
Aurora reached her hand through the bars to squeeze Tanya’s. To her surprise, Tanya pulled Aurora close for a fierce hug.
“Thanks, Rory,” Tanya whispered.
Aurora stroked the girl’s hair. “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until we’re home.”
“Three more days,” Tanya whispered.
“Three more days,” Aurora echoed.
Three more days...
CHAPTER TWELVE
Roberto’s house
Saturday, 10:00 a.m.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT,” Aurora said, staring at the forged papers. “These are all wrong!”
Seated at the breakfast table with her, Jordan and Roberto studied the paperwork for the third time, while Roberto’s mother stood patiently beside them.
“My friend’s uncle could only use what forms he had in supply. I know these are not what we ordered,” Roberto said. “But we can still use them.”
“How?” Jordan demanded. “The adoption papers are made out to a Mexican couple. I may speak Spanish, but I can’t fake a Tijuana accent. And Aurora can’t pass for Mexican on a bet—even if she did speak the dialect. Which she doesn’t.”
Aurora frowned. Jordan was right. Her high-school Spanish, while fluent, wouldn’t fool any border guard. And her driver’s license and other paperwork clearly identified her as an American. “Now what? Jordan and I were supposed to take Alfonso across the border with Dorian. We were an American family—not Mexican. And we only got one death certificate for Dorian. What about Tanya? Not only that, the date on it is wrong!”
“I already explained—I can only get whatever forms are available for purchase, señorita. I can’t ask for new ones when they are not at hand. And I will not be given a refund,” Roberto said stiffly. “I am grateful to have this much.”
“What do we do now?” Aurora asked.
Aurora felt Jordan squeeze her arm with one hand, then he reached for the papers and slid them closer. He studied them a moment and shook his head.
“We’ll never get across the border with Alfonso now,” he told them. “Tanya will have to remain among the living, and Alfonso will have to stay here. Maybe you can get new papers for him when we send for you in a month. Sorry, Roberto.”
With a despairing cry, Roberto’s mother rushed outside. Aurora watched her run far past where Alfonso and Yadira pulled weeds in the pathetic vegetable patch.
“But there is no guarantee of that. And no one else will take him, not even the orphanage,” Roberto said. “When my sister and my mother come to join me in California, he will die.”
“What do you think will happen to my sister?” Aurora asked. “This death certificate is dated two days from now, not today like it was supposed to be. We can’t change the plan now. As it is, Dorian could be dead by the time we come back to get her out.”
Aurora was close to tears. The plan called for Tanya to get herself and her mother out of jail, leaving death certificates behind to buy them time. Aurora and Jordan were to meet them in the truck and drive across the border with Alfonso and Dorian, while Roberto was to lead Tanya across the border on foot. The truck would meet the pedestrians once they had crossed to the American side, and all parties would reunite in safety.
At least, that was our plan, Aurora thought.
Jordan looked at the anguished faces of the others. His lips drew together in a thin line.
“According to these papers,” he said slowly, “Alfonso is being adopted by a Mexican couple. It doesn’t say a married Mexican couple. Roberto, you and your mother could be that couple. From what I gather, once you and your mother and sister get residency papers, you could adopt him—from either side of the border. All we need is Aurora to look after him until we bring the rest of your family over next month.”
“Señorita? You could do that for us? I could take Alfonso across the desert with your niece.”
“A baby trekking across the desert? He belongs in a hospital himself, he’s so malnourished.”
“We shall take him,” Roberto insisted.
“This is insane,” Aurora said. “That boy will die.”
“He’ll die for certain if he stays here,” Roberto reminded her.
“This is a child’s life.”
“He’s not going by desert,” Jordan said.
Aurora stopped, confused. “I— What?”
“We’re changing our plans,” Jordan announced. “Aurora, you and I take the three fugitives across the border by boat—your sister, Tanya and Alfonso. Roberto will be with us. He’s the only one we can legitimately get papers for.”
“By boat?” Aurora echoed.
“We’ll use the loaner. It’s not registered to us. That’s a big plus right there.”
“But we’ll have to dodge customs and the Coast Guard, not to mention drug runners.” She lifted her head. “Will it work?”
“There’s something you need to know,” Aurora interrupted. “Someone’s trying to kill Jordan. If we get out in the open water, he might turn up.”
“I can avoid the drug runners, the maritime border guards and any murderers,” Roberto said fiercely. “You forget, señorita, that I am a diver. I know these waters. We shall be safe on the boat.”
They both turned their attention toward Aurora. “We postpone the operation for two days to accommodate the death certificate. Roberto will take the truck and get word to Tanya of the change in plans. Any other questions?” Jordan asked.
Roberto rose. “I need to talk to mi madre. She must ready Alfonso for the trip—and I shall tell my sister to ready Mancha, also. You can pretend she is your perro, who travels with you on your boat. Only my mother and sister will remain behind until next month.”
“Great, the dog, too.” Aurora leaned her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. “I’m now a coyote—an official smuggler of illegal children, dogs and convicts.”
Jordan gestured toward the crude window. “Here they come, your mother and the kids.” He looked at Aurora. “I think we’ll do a lot better with the boat. Unlike the border, there’s plenty of room to cut and run.”
“And I thought salvaging the San Rafael would be difficult. This sure isn’t the operation we’d originally planned.”
Jordan’s expression was grim. “No, it’s not. But it’s too late to back out now.”
Tijuana Women’s Jail
Two days later, 2:30 p.m.
TANYA WORKED BUSILY in the dispensary, handing bowls of broth to the patients able to keep it down. When she finished with those, she passed out small quantities of ice chips to those unable to eat. Tanya made sure her mother’s was the last bed she stopped at—and had kept the largest cup of ice and bowl of soup for her.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me, Tanya.” Tanya gently touched her mother’s hand.
Dorian’s eyes fluttered open. “Is it time?” she asked.
“Yep,” Tanya whispered. “You remember the plan?”
“I remember.”
“Then let’s do it.” Tanya dumped all the ice chips into the bowl of hot soup. In seconds the ice melted, leaving the soup barely lukewarm.
“Come on, you have to eat something,” Tanya said, no longer whispering.
“No, I don’t want it.” Dorian pushed the full bowl of soup away and Tanya deliberately let it fall and spill all over her mother’s gown and sheets.
A few of the other patients looked up, including the guard. No one said a word as she helped Dorian to her feet, broth dripping onto the floor. She held her mother’s arm and IV, supporting her as they walked in the general direction of the bathroom and linen area. Once there, Tanya casually led her mother into the bathing area.
“I’ll run you a bath,” she said loudly enough to be heard. “Take off your gown while I get you a clean one.” She spoke rehearsed Spanish, which she’d practiced with Roberto. The point was to make sure the guard understood. Dorian nodded, as she’d been instructed to do. In the clinic, only mother and daughter knew that Dorian spoke no Spanish. Tanya followed her into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. She placed her mother in a shower, started the water and pulled the flimsy plastic shower curtain.
Quickly she wriggled through the short laundry chute separating the bathing area from the linen room’s dirty-laundry basket—a large industrial bin, metal-and-canvas on wheels. She landed on the flu-soiled sheets and gowns—but she didn’t complain about the smell.
This filth is going to get us free. She grabbed a pillowcase, two pairs of clean pajamas and two gowns from a clean bin, and returned through the laundry chute. Without a word, Tanya removed her mother’s IV and placed the folded pillowcase over the puncture as a makeshift bandage, tying the ends. She then stripped her of the soup-stained gown and dressed her in the fresh clothes. Dorian weakly shoved her arms into the sleeves of one robe, but hesitated at the second robe.
“I don’t have a coat for you, Mom,” Tanya whispered. “You need to wear both of them. Then it’s through the laundry chute. I’ll go first. When I’m through, you give me your hands. Don’t fall.”
Tanya slid through the laundry chute again. She grabbed a clean bin and placed a sheet on the bottom, then blanketed that with fresh towels. She reached through the chest-high chute door as Dorian tottered over. Tanya grabbed her mother’s hands and half dragged, half pulled her through.
She doesn’t weigh a thing anymore. Tanya’s throat tightened as she caught her mother.
“You okay, Mom?” she whispered.
No answer. Dorian had passed out. Tanya ignored the pounding of her own heart and lifted the unconscious woman to place her carefully inside the laundry bin, her face near a corner. Tanya arranged the clean sheet over Dorian, then heaped piles of the filthy linen over her. She slowly wheeled the basket near the rest of the filthy laundry and once again wriggled through the laundry chute.
“My mother’s in the bath,” Dorian said to the guard, again in carefully rehearsed Spanish. “I’m getting fresh sheets for her bed, okay?” The guard nodded, and Dorian boldly walked into the laundry room, got fresh sheets. Then she returned to her mother’s bed and proceeded to strip and remake it.
Tanya checked the clock. Good. The nurses and guards should be changing shifts any second now. She felt inside her smock for the death certificate Aurora had gotten to her just as the clinic doors were unlocked for visitors at noon. Now’s my chance.
First, she placed the death certificate under her mother’s pillow. She’d paid another patient a pack of cigarettes to put it on top of the pillow after the shift change. The other woman would make sure it was discovered, then announce that Tanya had been taken back to her cell. The ploy wouldn’t stand for long, but it would buy her time. Nor would any of the prisoners raise the alarm, since those nearest Dorian were too sick themselves to notice.
Not hurrying, not looking at her coconspirator, Tanya boldly headed toward the linen room, carrying the soup-stained sheets. She deliberately grabbed a soiled bedpan and put it on top.
Any guards want to follow me, I spill this on them, she vowed. Or at least wave it under their nose. Whatever it takes.
Tanya hurried back into the laundry room. For once, the rear doors were unlocked, a temporary state of affairs authorized because of the sickness of the patients, the heavy turnover of soiled linen and the stench in the airless room. The guards weren’t particularly worried. The jail was in the middle of the desert, not on any public transportation route. In addition, not one of the healthy prisoners other than Tanya was willing to work hard in the filthy atmosphere. As a result, the guards relaxed their vigilance just a bit where she was concerned. She’d made herself trusted—and indispensable. I’m the world’s fastest worker in this bedpan brigade, and only because of my mother.
The guards weren’t stupid, nor were the nurses. However, no one worried about Tanya walking away from the linen area that led directly to the parking lot outside—not as long as her mother was still in the clinic. Tanya had counted on this fact. The laundry was now considered her permanent job position, and she was free to wheel the carts of linen outside to the parking lot, where the local laundry service regularly picked them up. The laundry was transported to town for cleaning.
Tanya began pushing the laundry carts outside, starting with her mother’s. All this time, she watched frantically for her aunt. Jordan said they wouldn’t be using Aurora’s truck. So how are we getting home? Where are they?
She couldn’t see the clock anymore, so she continued to push out the bins, brushed away the huge flies buzzing near her face. Cart after cart, she hoped with all her might.
Road leading into the prison
Same time
THE OLD FLATBED RATTLED, bounced, groaned and squeaked along th
e prison hill. Roberto drove. Neither situation improved Jordan’s mood.
“This truck isn’t going to make a very quick getaway,” he said to Roberto. “Couldn’t you find anything newer? Or at least faster?”
Roberto threw Jordan a rightly deserved look of scorn.
“Just ignore this spoiled gringo,” Jordan replied with a sigh.
Roberto’s expression lightened. “You are a hard man to ignore, gringo. As is the señorita. Are you and she dating?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Roberto refused to drop the subject. “So you do this for a living, then? Break out prisoners for pretty women?”
Roberto chuckled softly. “As you Americanos say, ‘It must be love.’”
“What do you care?” Jordan asked, annoyed with the turn this conversation was taking.
“Because if you love her, you won’t beat her.”
“Beat her?”
“When you discover what she has done.”
“I don’t hit women. Ever.” Jordan paused, then turned toward Roberto. “What did she do?”
Roberto told him. “My whole family is coming. They did not wish to stay behind and wait for me to get a carta verde, then a visa, then citizenship. They said it would take too long. They wish to be with me illegally while this takes place. So your woman gave my mother and sister permission to join her.”
Jordan started muttering about Mexican roads, women and life in general with equal vehemence.
Silver Dollar, Mexican coastline
Saturday, 8:00 p.m.
AURORA CHECKED her watch again and then again. She studied Yadira and her mother, her stowaways sitting on the deck, and wondered how they could wait so calmly. Yadira held tight to her little dog, and Marisol held on to Alfonso. Although all were wide-awake, there was no conversation among the family until Marisol softly said in Spanish, “You should sit down, señorita. You will tire yourself out.”
Aurora looked at her watch yet another time and continued to peer out into the darkness. “Later, thanks.” She had much on her mind—including Jordan’s anticipated reaction to her last-minute decision to grant the request of Roberto’s mother.