Escape from Danger

by Linsey Lanier

  Of course, there were hundreds of them.

  “Can you narrow it?” she whispered.

  He did. First to the city, then to one of the general neighborhoods, which she learned by watching over his shoulder, were called barrios.

  Finally he got a promising result. Or maybe not.

  “This can’t be right,” he muttered with frustration.

  She peered at the picture of a rather ordinary looking man in his early forties with thick black wavy hair, a furrowed brow, and a full horseshoe mustache. Then she saw the data under the photo. “Inspector Torres. Policia de la Ciudad.”

  She nearly gasped. “He’s a police officer?”

  “A detective, according to this.”

  “A dirty cop?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Are you sure that’s who you saw last night?”

  “Not entirely. It was dark. But there is the mustache.”

  “And his hair is like our guest’s.” She turned around and glanced at Alejandro. He was still engrossed in his noisy game. “He’s supposed to be in school. I wondered if he’s been reported missing.”

  “We can’t very well take him to the police station.”

  “No.” Not with this information. She suddenly felt very sad for the boy. “What are we going to do about his father? If he’s involved in what we think he is, we can’t let Alejandro go home.”

  “Maybe the father’s investigating the trafficking ring.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Maybe. The men in the building last night told Torres they’d call him at nine o’clock tonight and set up a new meeting.”

  A chill went down her spine. “And what do you think we should do about that?”

  He glanced over at the boy. “I assume Alejandro knows his address. I could go there and wait until Torres leaves.”

  “And follow him.”

  “Right.”

  “To some other abandoned building?”

  “To wherever they tell him to go, assuming he’s going to follow their instructions.”

  “And what are you going to do then?”

  “What I did last night. Go inside and eavesdrop. See what kind of information I can get.”

  “This time, I’m going in with you.”

  “No, Janey. I can’t let you.”

  She let out a huff. “I was scared out of my wits last night. I’m not going through that again.”

  “Somebody has to watch him.” He nodded toward Alejandro.

  “Maybe it should be you.”

  That idea was met with a tight jaw and flashing blue eyes. “I’ll only be gone for an hour or so.”

  “What are you saying? You want me to stay here in the room while you do this? What if something happens to you? I won’t even know where you are.”

  His mouth thinned.

  She turned and saw the boy staring at them. She smiled at him as if nothing was the matter.

  Then she turned back to Simon and whispered, “I could be of help, you know.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the rest of the afternoon they watched children’s shows on the television, which Janelle barely understood, and played checkers with Alejandro on a small board Simon had bought along with the Pac-Man toy.

  Around one o’clock, Simon went out for empanadas from a street vendor, and the boy wolfed down four of them. But there were plenty of leftovers, and Simon announced that would be dinner.

  Then it was naptime again.

  Janelle spent most of it on the bed with her back to Simon watching Alejandro’s face. The boy didn’t seem to be worried about his circumstances while awake, but in his sleep, he frowned and fidgeted. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and comfort him, and she wondered what would happen to his father tonight, and whether Simon would be all right.

  Around eight o’clock, she started to dress for the evening. She chose a pair of black skinny jeans, a dark gray turtleneck, and her go-to black leather jacket. She put her red hair in a ponytail and tucked it under a black slouchy snood. The look really needed a pair of gold hoop earrings, but that might be a little too flashy. Black fashion ankle boots were her final accessory, but she also checked out her weapon and added it to her ensemble.

  As she got to her feet tucking the gun into her waistband, she caught Simon eyeing her. Whether with approval or annoyance, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t care what he thought. She was part of this operation whether he liked it or not.

  Apparently he’d decided not to argue about her and the boy coming along.

  Without commenting he moved over to Alejandro, who was playing his game and grinning with victory. “You can take us to your house, can’t you?”

  Suddenly the boy’s smile disappeared and his dark eyes went wide. “Are you going to take me back to my father, Señor Rodriguez? I cannot go home. I am afraid.” He put down the game and inched away to the corner of the bed.

  “I heard your father say there would be another meeting tonight. We want to follow him there.”

  Now the wonder returned to his eyes. “And spy on him like you did last night?”

  “I’ll gather information like I did last night.”

  The boy nodded eagerly. “Si. I can do that, Señor. I can show you my house.”

  “Get ready then. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

  Once again they made their way down the elevator and out the back to the parking garage. With Simon in his usual black clothes and her black outfit, they looked like a family of spies on their way to a caper.

  That wasn’t so far from the truth.

  Following the directions Alejandro gave them, just before nine p.m. they pulled up to the curb on a residential street a few blocks from where they had found the boy last night.

  Apartment buildings and old houses lined the street. Alejandro pointed to a white stucco two-story with a pretty French style balcony.

  “There it is. We live on the second floor.”

  “Will your father come out the front?” Simon asked.

  “Si. We never use the back.”

  Hoping that would be true in this case, Janelle sat back and waited.

  They had parked across the street next to a fat palm tree, hoping the shadows of its branches would give them some cover. Nearby stood a house with a Tudor style framework and roof. It’s neighbor had a tiny yard filled with trees and was fenced in by decorative stone posts.

  A few cars came down the road. One of them pulled into an empty spot near the end of the street. After a moment a woman in nurse’s scrubs under a thin coat got out and went into an apartment building.

  Home from the evening shift.

  A group of three young men passed them on the sidewalk, laughing and talking loudly in Spanish. They got into a car ahead of them and drove off. Heading for dinner and possibly a night on the town.

  By the time a noisy motorcycle growled by, Janelle’s nerves were on edge.

  She looked at the clock on the dash. Twenty minutes had passed.

  Softly she whispered to Simon, “Are you sure you got that time right?”

  “He may have changed his mind.”

  That was true. Torres knew his son was missing, and he might have gotten scared off.

  She was just trying to come up with an alternate plan when the front door of the white stucco house opened, and a man emerged.

  He turned toward them, peering at the cars parked on both sides of the road, and under the streetlamp she recognized the man in the photo Simon had found, horseshoe mustache and all. He seemed to have an average build and had on dark slacks, a lightweight jacket, and a dark tweed flat-top ivy cap.

  A shiver went down her spine as she shifted her weight so she didn’t seem to be staring at him. Simon pretended to fiddle with controls on the dash.

  As soon as Torres was on the corner, Simon pulled out of the spot. Unfortunately they were on a one-way street and had to make their way around the block. The roads
were cobble-stone, like something you’d find in Paris, she supposed, and they made for a bumpy ride.

  Rattling along, they rolled down a street filled with shops. There were stained wooden entrances to stucco buildings, a black wall covered with chalk graffiti, and a shop with a bright pink facade that looked like it sold clothes. Then Simon turned a corner and headed through another tightly-packed residential area.

  At the end of the block, he was about to turn onto the next street, when Janelle spotted someone briskly walking on the sidewalk ahead of them.

  “Wait. Is that him?”

  Simon peered across the street.

  Before he could answer, Alejandro piped up from the backseat. “Si. That is him. That is my papa.”

  Now what? If they crossed the street, they’d be too close. If they sat here, someone would be honking at them soon.

  Had to be one or the other.

  Slowly Simon drove across the street and pretended to hunt for a parking spot. Soon they caught up to the man and as they passed him, she got a better look at him.

  He walked with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Under his cap his brow was furrowed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was troublesome to be involved in a serious crime, dealing with serious criminals.

  “I think I know where he’s going.” Simon drove down the street past the man, where more shops appeared, these featuring lots of colorful awnings.

  In the next block, the atmosphere grew sinister. The shops were run down here, and there was nasty looking graffiti scrawled across old bricks.

  They passed a noisy bar on the corner where music spilled out onto the street. Then suddenly in the next block, there was green space. Trees and grass surrounded by a wrought iron fence that had been painted a gaudy green.

  A park.

  Beyond its locked gate lay curving walkways surrounded by foliage and tall tree trunks. Towering palm trees swayed in the distance. In front of the gate were steps that led to a crosswalk.

  Simon rolled past the entrance and steered the car around the corner. This was a two-way street, thank goodness. He drove to the end of it, turned around, and headed back the way they had come. When he was a stone’s throw away from the end of the fence, he parked the car where they could see the gated entrance through the spires.

  Sure enough, after another few minutes Torres reached the gate of the park and came to a halt.

  Good guess, Janelle thought with admiration.

  Torres glanced around, then took something out of his pocket. A moment later, a tiny orange light appeared under the trees.

  He was smoking.

  He took a few steps in their direction and just stood there on the sidewalk puffing on his cigarette.

  “He’s waiting for his contact,” Janelle whispered, wishing for a pair of binoculars.

  Silently Simon nodded in agreement.

  “Would you be able to recognize one of the men from last night?”

  “I might, but it was dark in that building.”

  They waited some more. Torres began to shift from foot to foot, as if he were getting antsy.

  He dropped his cigarette on the ground and snubbed it out with his shoe. Then he ran his gaze over the cars parked across the street from the park.

  “Whoever is supposed to meet him isn’t showing up.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  Suddenly Torres turned and went the other way, disappearing under a clump of trees along the fence.

  Simon reached for the door handle. “I need to check this out.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He nodded toward the backseat. “You have to watch the boy.”

  “You need back up.”

  “No, I don’t.” His voice was a command.

  She bit her lip. She didn’t want to leave Alejandro alone, but she couldn’t stand the thought of what Simon might be walking into. If only he’d bought a second cell phone on his shopping trip that morning.

  “Fifteen minutes,” she told him in the same tone he’d used.

  “What?”

  “I’ll give you fifteen minutes, and then I’m coming after you.”

  “I’ll be back before then.” And he got out of the car, walked to the corner, and turned toward the park entrance.

  Chapter Twenty

  Feeling angry and worried and useless, Janelle sat in the car and watched Simon stroll along the other side of the green wrought iron fence, her fists tight in her lap.

  He was so stubborn and independent. He wouldn’t accept her help no matter how dangerous the situation. He was downright infuriating.

  She just hoped his hard head wouldn’t get him killed.

  But it wasn’t just Simon that was upsetting her. It was this whole predicament. They were so vulnerable and so alone. She was used to working with a team. With back up. When they’d been thrown together before, Simon always had had people he could call on. Well, not the last time, but that wasn’t the point.

  What did he think he was going to do with Torres, anyway?

  She glanced at the dash. Five minutes had gone by.

  “Is Señor Rodriguez going to arrest my papa?”

  Janelle turned her head and saw Alejandro leaning over the seat.

  Arrest him? He didn’t have the authority. He wasn’t with the FBI anymore. “I don’t think so.” How could he? Torres was the one who was the policeman here. But what if Torres arrested Simon?

  The thought made her a little sick.

  Satisfied with that answer, Alejandro went back to playing the Pac-Man game he’d brought along. Simon must have turned the sound off on it. She was glad. The noise would only make her more nervous and could attract the wrong attention.

  She turned back and peered through the spires of the fence. She saw Simon standing on the sidewalk pretending to look something up on his cell phone. The one without the battery in it.

  The orange glow from Torres’s second cigarette burned near the trunk of a tree a few feet away. So he hadn’t gone far. She let out a breath.

  Then the glow disappeared. Was Torres moving again?

  She watched Simon squint in the inspector’s direction—then start after him. After another few seconds, he disappeared behind the tree trunks as well. She couldn’t see either of them.

  Her chest heaved with anger and anxiety.

  What was going on?

  She didn’t know. All she knew was that her line of vision was blocked by foliage and concrete.

  She glanced at the clock on the dash again and nearly growled aloud. “Simon Sloan,” she muttered, “your fifteen minutes are up.”

  Alejandro appeared over the seat again. “What is going on, Señora?”

  She wasn’t going to just sit here. She couldn’t. “Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”

  Eyes glowing with apprehension, he nodded. “Si. I will be fine.”

  He didn’t sound like it, and she almost decided to stay.

  Then she put the car keys into his hand. “Press this button to lock it after I get out. This one opens it again. Don’t press that until you see either me or Mr. Rodriguez. Understand?”

  He nodded again. “Si, si. I understand.”

  She reached for the door handle.

  “Señora?”

  “Yes, Alejandro?”

  “Please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  She got out of the car, heard the doors click behind her, and hurried for the dark corner.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Simon cursed himself as he huffed down the street, trying to seem like an ordinary pedestrian as he followed Torres.

  Twenty feet ahead of him, the man in the jacket and flat-top ivy cap reached the end of the park, crossed the busy street, and turned down the sidewalk on the opposite side.

  Keeping the distance between them, Simon trotted through the crosswalk and narrowly missed being hit by a honking Renault wh
ose driver decided to run the light.

  Torres didn’t notice the commotion. It wasn’t unusual here.

  Once on the sidewalk, Simon was able to blend in better with the crowd. Still, the man’s quick pace put him on edge. It was getting difficult to keep up the casual air of a tourist.

  Torres led him past restaurants and cafes and shops where people were coming and going. At a bus stop, Simon had to fight through a small crowd. But the man didn’t stay on the main road.

  Up ahead, Torres disappeared around an office building on the corner.

  Racing to catch up, Simon followed, but as he turned onto the new street, he saw Torres was already in the middle of the block, moving in and out of the shadows of the trees.

  He had just passed a small nightclub. Simon crossed the pavement, weaving through the cars parked along both sides of the road to avoid the crowd.

  Just as he thought he’d made some headway, up ahead Torres zipped across the next intersection and once again vanished behind a building.

  Panting like an out-of-shape jogger, Simon rushed to catch up, zooming around the corner at the end of the block.

  Torres was still way ahead of him.

  Where was he going? He wasn’t heading home. Simon wondered if he’d gotten a second phone call or a text from his contact and was on his way to meet him. He hadn’t seen him use his cell, but Torres might have done that while he was dodging traffic.

  Irritated, Simon watched the man turn down yet another street.

  Once again he hurried to the end of the sidewalk and around the corner.

  Then he stopped.

  This time Torres was nowhere to be seen.

  Catching his breath, Simon eyed the rows of parked cars. None appeared to be running. No one was driving along the road. Torres hadn’t escaped in a vehicle.

  This was a quiet residential street lined with apartment buildings and shops that were closed for the evening. Simon stood a moment, watching a few leaves fall from the trees.

  Then he spotted a renovation site up ahead.

  He moved closer and took in the plastic sheets along the partially demolished walls, the cyclone fence reinforced with rubberized barriers. Similar to the structure last night, tall sections of ply board served as a door.