“I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time, Ellen, on the museum. But we’ll have to start back, to Mexico City, fairly early. I can’t stand driving after dark. And I do want you to have plenty of time at Xochicalco. I only hope lunch doesn’t take forever!”
Well it did-take forever, that is. Not that we ate a large lunch; neither of us was so foolish when we knew we would be doing a fair amount of walking that afternoon.
After lunch, we returned to the marketplace to collect Edna’s purchases. As predicted, several small boys came running as soon as they saw us. Edna laughed, and chose four boys to carry the packages. A few minutes later, we were loading them into the back of the van. And, as soon as Edna had tipped the boys generously, we were on our way.
It wasn’t far and, before long, we were pulling off the highway and into a paved parking lot.
Edna stopped to ask one of the guards how late the ruins would be open. Impatiently, I started ahead. Edna soon caught up. This time she made no attempt to hurry me. She seemed content to show me the ball courts and peek into the entrance to the caves, which were locked up. As we stood, looking up at the pyramids, I commented, “This place is in remarkable shape!”
Edna grinned. “What you mean, Ellen, is that someone has done a good job of restoring things.” She paused, stared at the most impressive pyramid, the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent, and said, “I’m game, if you are!”
I grinned right back. “Need you ask?”
We ascended in easy stages and, by the time I stood at the top, I couldn’t help remembering the other time I had climbed a pyramid. With Rick. It was absurd, but I even found myself looking over at Edna to make sure she was still there. She seemed to read my thoughts, asking, “Thinking of Rick, Ellen?”
I nodded and tried to explain, “I’ve beenrunning-so hard from what happened. I can’t run anymore.”
Edna patted my shoulder. “Go ahead and cry. I’m sure you need to.”
Without wanting to, I found myself taking her advice. But, still, I went on. “I don’t understand cruelty. I never have. Why, Edna? Why does Rick hate me so much?”
Her answer was a soothing string of sounds that meant absolutely nothing. Finally, I had cried myself out. Then, briskly, she said, “We’d better get you down, out of the sun. I don’t care if it is midwinter.”
I nodded. There hadn’t really been time to look around much, but now I was too tired to care. Too bad I hadn’t been able to save the tears for a time when no one was around, and there was nothing better to do. But I hadn’t. The grief over Rick that I had been running from had finally caught up with me.
Anyway, down we climbed. I felt a bit shaky and was relieved when we reached the bottom, and I could sit in a shady spot at the base of the pyramid. Edna was still concerned. “Stay here, Ellen. I’ll go get the thermos of ice water from the van.”
I was only too happy to see her go. I hate to have people see me cry, and I needed the time to recover. Deep breaths, I told myself. Think of something else. Who cares about Rick? He was just a creep. Cross him off and forget about it. Think of Charles. Yes, Charles.
I was just starting to remember the first time Charles had kissed me, when I felt something shoved into the small of my back. Instinctively, I started to turn. A sharp voice stopped me. “No! Is a gun, senorita. No turn. No scream. No move.”
A black hood dropped over my head and I gasped. Rough hands grabbed mine, jerking them behind me and binding them with some abrasive cord. Other hands jerked me to my feet. “March, senorita!” a second voice ordered.
The first voice spoke again. “The gun, it is still here, senorita. No foolishness, si?”
“Si!” I snapped back, determined to hide my panic while I tried to think.
Edna. Where was Edna? Would she be back in time to see us? There were guards at the gate. They would surely help. Feet. Move the feet. Left. Right. Going in circles? The ground was uneven and, for all I could tell, we might have gone in circles. A firm grip on my arm pulled me whatever way my captors wanted. The guards! my thoughts hammered. How did they expect to get me past the guards? They’d have to take off my hood and untie me to pass the guards. Keep your mind on the guards.
I stumbled. Someone jerked me to my feet, again. Up. Down. I still couldn’t guess which way we went. Warm. Cool. Sun and shadows. Fat lot of nothing that told me. We kept going. I felt panic now. We should have reached the gates long ago. Where were we going? Terror closing in, building up the fear. Panic. Trembling, I couldn’t control. The rough voice saying, “Apologies, senorita. No policia. We must to use the back way.”
I fainted.
Sick. I was going to be sick if someone didn’t stop shaking the rough bed! Bed. I wasn’t in any bed, I realized. I was in a car. And a very small one, at that, on the floor! Sit up, woman, I ordered myself No way. My arms refused to budge. Open your eyes, I tried insisting. But they were open, and I still couldn’t see!
That was the moment I remembered. Kidnapped. I’d been kidnapped and I was in a car going… somewhere. Voices. Count the voices you hear, I told myself sternly. Three. Speaking Spanish softly. Two I recognized from when I had been grabbed. Maybe the third man had been waiting in the car. I tried to listen. No one seemed aware I was awake. Well, I thought grimly, let’s keep it that way.
As carefully as I could, I tried to flex my arms. They were still tied behind me. Through my mind flashed all the ingenious ways I’d seen in movies, or read in books, to free my hands. I bitterly decided that Providence was always remarkably friendly in those cases. Hmmm, I wasn’t sure I was on good enough terms with her, at the moment, to count on help. I felt a wild desire to laugh, and I knew I had been pushed so far into fear that I’d gone past fear-to the edge of hysteria. Breathing deeply, I tried to force myself to relax. Hysteria would only make matters worse.
Eventually, the jolting stopped. As the engine died away, I heard chickens cackling nearby. Then a car door groaning open. Someone yanked my ankle and I yelped. Laughter. Rough voices, speaking Spanish. Somewhat more gently, hands gripped my shoulder from the other side of the car and eased me into a sitting position. After a moment, the same hands helped me out of the car and onto my feet. The hands didn’t let go but pulled me forward a few yards. My shoulder brushed a doorway, and I realized we were in some sort of building. Then I was shoved into a rickety, hard-backed chair. I ached all over, felt sick, and wanted to cry. Instead, I tried bravura. “What the devil do you want with me?” I demanded loudly.
Someone laughed, but there was no answer. I heard the sound of footsteps retreating, then a door being shut (and barred), then silence.
I suppose it was only minutes, but it felt like hours, before I stopped panicking and began to think. Noises. Sort them out. Chickens. Voices relaxed, chattering, female voices. I hesitated. If I shouted for help, would those women help me? Better not chance it. I hadn’t heard the car leave, and anyway it was unlikely the women didn’t know I was here.
Okay, that’s out. Listen again. Any sounds nearby? No, not even the sound of someone else breathing. Flex your arms. This time, the ropes gave a little. A few more minutes, and I knew that was all they would give: a little. I stopped, frustrated. Okay, try the hood. I bent my head forward until it was lower than my shoulders, and tried to shake the thing off my head. The hood slipped a little, then held. I stopped, waited a few seconds, and tried again. Same thing. I don’t know how long it went like that, but eventually the hood was off and in my lap.
I blinked, then swore. Wherever I was, there were no windows. The only light came in through cracks in the walls and roof, and from the space where the door didn’t quite meet the floor. Still, my eyes had had a lot of time to adjust to darkness and, even in the dimness, I could see that I was in a one-room shed used to house grain, tools, and occasional prisoners. Dimly, I could make out a table, several other chairs, and lots of things stacked against the walls. Under my feet, I could feel hard-packed dirt.
Look at the tools. Who kno
ws, maybe Providence is feeling kindly, after all, I told myself. On second thought, get up and take a closer look.
I made it to my feet on the fourth try. Then it was easy. Over to the tools; bend down to see if any of them have a sharp enough edge to cut the rope. I was still bending over, trying to see, when the door opened behind me. And Pepe swaggered in.
For a moment, we both froze. Then Pepe laughed. It was almost a shout and lasted only an instant. Then he grabbed my arm and shoved me back to the chair. He looked around, found the hood, and dropped it over my head, saying, “You are very foolish, senorita. The hood, it is a protection, for you.”
Then his voice snapped out something loudly in Spanish, and I heard footsteps coming closer. At least two more persons entered the little shack. Next, I heard the door being shut. Pepe said something in angry Spanish. There was a reply. Then he spoke again, to me. “My apologies, senorita, for the inconvenience. But you will understand, it is for your protection. Our mutual friend, Senor Kemmler-”
“Rick?”
“Senor Kemmler,” Pepe continued, smoothly, “tells us you have the shipment.”
“You’re crazy!” I burst out. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
He sighed. “Senorita, I assure you, we are friends of Senor Kemmler. He said that, if you do not believe this, to tell you he said, `February 3.”’
I felt as if I had been slapped. That was the day I had first agreed to date Rick. He always laughed and teased me about that day, and said he would never forget to celebrate it. But 1 had never heard him mention the day to anyone else.
Aloud, I said, “So you speak for Rick. I believe you, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you really so stupid? Listen well, senorita. The shipment is important! Very important. We must have it. Senor Kemmler assures us you have the goods. You assure us you do not. Senor Kemmler would not be so foolish as to lie to us. You are very foolish. Or very wise. So we will play a little game. We will pretend you are an innocent and know nothing. Senor Kemmler comes to you and gives you a little package and asks you to take care of it, or perhaps mail it. You do not look inside, but you know where it is, and now you will remember for us. Or, perhaps, Senor Kemmler is more careful and merely gives you a key. You will then tell us where to find the key. There are many possibilities, senorita, and I am sure you will think of one of them.”
One, or a dozen. I could think of lots of ways Rick could have planted the stuff on me. Trouble was, he hadn’t. Not directly, anyway, and the police had searched my room and luggage, so that was out. Unless… unless he’d planted a key on my key ring, or something.
I said, “I - I don’t know. Maybe there’s an extra key on my key ring. It would be in my purse.”
There was a rapid exchange of Spanish, then Pepe answered me. “We have the purse, senorita. I will search it for you. I am sure you don’t mind.”
From the sound of objects being slapped onto the table, I knew he was doing a very thorough job. Finally, Pepe said, “So. The keys. And how many keys does the senorita have?”
I counted aloud. “Two for the apartment. Two for the office. One for the mailbox. Two for my car. That’s seven. No eight. I still have a key to the house where I’m staying.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, angrily, Pepe hissed, “I tell you one more time, senorita! We are not fools. Si! You have eight keys. So Senor Kemmler did not give you a key. What did the senor give you?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped back. “Maybe you are the fools. For believing Rick. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s told a lie! So I only have my own keys? It was only a guess. And now I’m all out of guesses, so you can all go to blazes!”
A hand grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my skin, in spite of the hood. My head was forced back. The voice was unmistakable in its menace. “For your sake, senorita, I hope you are wrong. We can’t afford a mistake; we must have the shipment! So. We will ask Senor Kemmler again our questions. But we must also assume you know the answers. We do not have much time, senorita. We cannot afford to be gentle. So, for your sake, I hope your memory improves. You have an hour, senorita, to try.”
The hand was gone, leaving my neck and face aching. There were angry voices speaking in Spanish, and the sound of footsteps as the door was opened and then slammed shut. And I was alone again.
Immediately, I tried to shake off the hood. But Pepe must have done something when he replaced it, because this time it wouldn’t budge. Angrily, I swore and found it helped. A little. I tried to move my arms. The rope was as tight as ever. Defeated, I sat still, considering. Had my outburst been a mistake? No, I was pretty sure that that was what had bought me an hour’s time. But the trick wouldn’t work again. I believed Pepe when he said they couldn’t afford to believe I was innocent.
Obviously, they had a deadline to meet. So they were getting desperate. I know that should have scared me even more. But, in a funny way, it didn’t. Now I knew the rules, and the next few hours would hold few surprises. No matter how terrible, the known is easier to face than the unknown.
So I spent much of that precious hour trying to find a way to stall for more time. Edna must have gone to the police by now, and they would be looking for me. I could only hope someone had spotted the car.
I stood with my back to the table, my bound hands trying to sort through the objects on the table. How stupid of me to forget that my purse was there! Now if only they had left the nail scissors then, with time and luck, I could cut the rope around my wrists. But I didn’t think I had much time, so I fumbled at the table, trying to ignore my rising panic. There it was! In its own little case. Now it was out, and I fumbled to get the cutting edge against my bonds. Just use it, I warned myself. Don’t think about the time!
But I couldn’t ignore the panic. Rivulets of sweat ran down my face, and down the small of my back. I’m no coward, but I knew I had a low threshold for pain. If I didn’t escape now, I would soon be too helpless to try. Saw the scissors against the rope, I told myself. Over and over. Ignore the ache in your fingers and the trembling in your legs. Just cut the blasted rope!
Footsteps. Voices in Spanish. They were unmistakably coming closer. Test the rope. Not quite weak enough to break. The chair. Get back into the chair!
But I couldn’t make it in time. I was still trying to find the chair when I heard the door open. “Thank heaven!” a voice shouted.
Above it, rose another. “Ellen! Darling!”
I fainted.
I came to, with someone’s arms around me. Charles. But that wasn’t possible. He was in Chicago. Close your eyes; try again. He was still there. Stupidly, I said, “But you can’t be here. You’re in Chicago.”
His grip tightened for a moment, and his voice caught as he answered, “No, I’m right here, Ellen. With Carlos and”
“Carlos is here?” I demanded, trying to get up. “Where is he?”
Charles helped me to my feet, frowning, as Carlos called from the doorway, “Here, Ellen. Also, Jaime, Eduardo, and Luiz. And the policia, of course.”
Blinking, I tried to make my brain work. It refused. Ramirez stepped out of the corner shadows then, and said, “Buenos dial, Senorita Steffee. I share the joy that you are safe, of course, but there are certain formalities. If you will please come outside?”
He let me go first. Charles was at my shoulder, and my recent co-workers were right outside the door. Beyond them was a group of people, herded together by the police.
“Can you identify any of these men?” Ramirez asked me.
“Only Pepe,” I said, pointing him out. “The others, I would only know their voices.”
Ramirez snapped out orders in Spanish. Policemen had the men in the group line up in a row. Then Ramirez asked each man several questions while I listened to the voices that answered him. When he was through, I had identified the men I had overheard. “Not that the others are innocent,” Ramirez commented, “but it is as well to ha
ve some of them absolutely identified.” He turned to Charles, and they consulted, in Spanish, before he told me, “Your friends will drive you back to the city, senorita. In a day or so, I will wish to see you. Then you will be free to return to the United States.”
“What about Mrs. Iveson?” I blurted out. “Does she know I’ve been found?”
There was a silence, and the two men exchanged looks. Ramirez said carefully, “Senor Whitford will explain to you about the senora.”
Puzzled, I turned to Charles. Carlos and the others crowded around. “This is going to come as a shock, Ellen,” Charles began, “but the Ivesons were involved. Especially Edna.”
I stared at him. “That’s impossible!”
Carlos broke in angrily, “If this is true, Senor Whitford, why did you let Ellen stay with the Ivesons? And why did you leave her to go to Chicago?”
I felt Carlos’s hand gripping my shoulder in support. The others glared at Charles, and he glared right back. “Because I didn’t know! Not until I went to Chicago. And then I flew right back to be with Ellen. Believe me, I spent the whole flight back here hating myself for leaving her!”
“But how do you know?” I insisted. “I just can’t believe Greg and Edna were involved!”
Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ramirez hinted, once, that the police suspected another American at the company. Someone Rick was afraid to name. I was skeptical, especially since Ramirez said it was someone important. Then, Saturday, at the party, I overheard some comments that made me start wondering. There was a lot of gossip, of course, about Rick and his arrest. Most of it pretty wild. But one thing was consistent. Rick had been known by many people to boast that he didn’t have to worry about his job here; that he was on close terms with `the boss’s wife.’ Only he never said which wife. I gather Rick used to just laugh and say, `Melda,’ when anyone asked.
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