The Charity Chip

by Brock Booher

  A sudden hush fell over the crowd, and Julio turned his attention to the game. Alianza Lima was setting up for a corner kick. The official blew the whistle and the ball sailed off the kicker’s foot and arced toward the line of players in front of the goal. It was a perfect kick. The ball began to drift downward as it neared the open goal. The goalie moved out, preparing to catch it in flight. From behind the crowd of players fighting for position, the forward for Alianza Lima ran forward and launched himself up to meet the ball. Before the goalie could reach it, the Alianza forward gave the ball a header and sent it careening into the corner of the net. Alianza Lima scored!

  Fireworks exploded. Drums beat. Whistles and horns blew. The sound of clapping hands and stomping feet became a cacophony so loud that it hurt Julio’s ears. He screamed at the top of his lungs to add to the mayhem. All of a sudden the entire section of Comando Sur rushed downward, pressing into the fence and leaving the top of their section empty. It was the avalanche that Julio had heard about but never seen. It was like the entire crowd moved as one body crushing against the fence with all of its weight.

  Julio continued to cheer but kept his eye out for Raúl. After the avalanche, the fans from Comando Sur began to move back up and into their usual spots. He wasn’t sure, but Julio thought he saw Brujo and Esqueleto. He decided to stay at the top hoping that the vantage point might give him an opportunity to find his brother.

  The building tension and frustration melted away. The crowd was mostly smiles and cheers. The songs became more about victory and legacy and less angry. It was like the entire stadium had experienced a collective release. Then two players from La U broke away and scored.

  Almost as soon as it was released, the sense of frustration and tension returned, but this time only stronger and angrier. Julio looked at the clock. They still had thirty minutes to play, but the emotion from the crowd felt like desperation—like someone’s life depended on the outcome of the match. It struck him as strange. He had seen people die, but the intensity of the crowd pushed him to feel like those deaths were trivial alongside the outcome of el Clásico. He suddenly felt awkward, like he wanted to leave the game.

  Julio started down the stairs. It was impossible for him to find Raúl anyway, but he continued to scan the crowd as he descended. As he neared the bottom, he stopped and surveyed the field. La U was on the attack at the other end of the field, but something red caught his eye. Just inside the perimeter fence, standing in the shadows near the riot police, he spotted a tall redheaded woman—Doctor Kozyar. She was only in sight for a moment before she ducked back against the fence, but Julio was certain he had seen her.

  Worried that she might see him, he scurried back up the stairs until he felt certain he was out of her sight. He knew that if she was here, then Isak was also nearby. Julio searched for any sign of his large frame, but he never materialized. He didn’t think they would try and take Raúl in front of so many witnesses, but a sense of urgency came over him. He hurried up and down the stairs looking for any familiar face. He tried to catch someone’s attention from Comando Sur, but they were so focused on the game that they didn’t even acknowledge him.

  When he got to the top the second time, he was ready to give up. Until the game was over, everyone’s attention would be on the field. He looked back at the scoreboard. The game was almost over. He had been so focused on finding Raúl that he had missed most of the second half. Time was running out and the game was tied. He stood there once again at the top of the stadium watching the players battle for control of the small white soccer ball and felt disconnected from the entire event, like he was invisible. He thought of all the times he had wished he could see a game live, and now that he was here, all he could think about was finding Raúl. Ironically, as a member of los mALditos, Raúl was a regular at the games.

  Julio sighed and started for the nearest exit. It was time to give up on finding Raúl here, hope that Isak would avoid making a move in front of the crowd, and wait for Raúl at El Infierno. He stopped and looked at the scoreboard—two minutes left. He decided to stop and watch the rest of the game. At least he could enjoy two minutes without thinking about saving Raúl.

  The ball was at the other end of the field. La U was setting up a corner kick. The crowd was tense and raged like the churning tide. The kick was up, sailing for the goal, floating, and waiting for La U to send it into the back of the net and win the game. A red and white jersey leapt up and gave the ball a header, but instead of rushing into the back of the net, the ball went straight to the arms of the Alianza goalie.

  Normally, the goalie would hold the ball and wait for the area around the goal to clear, but this time he booted the ball down the field without hesitation. A cheer went up from the crowd. The midfielder from Alianza had left the pack and was racing down the field to catch the ball, and only two defenders stood in his way. The first defender tried to head the ball before it landed, but he missed. The ball bounced and sailed on with the Alianza midfielder in pursuit. The second defender approached cautiously, but his caution cost him control of the ball. The Alianza midfielder trapped the ball, and with inertia on his side, he bounced the ball up and over the defender’s head and raced past. The only thing between a goal and victory was the goalie from La U.

  The entire stadium of seething fans collectively held their breath in anticipation. The midfielder was patient and predatory. He maneuvered the ball to the right, forcing the goalie to drift with him. Then he shot the ball like a rocket into the top left corner of the net.

  The stadium exploded. Time ran out. Alianza Lima had won el Clásico.

  Julio screamed at the top his lungs and jumped up and down along with everyone else. The entire stadium shook and the noise was deafening. Fireworks exploded in several places within Comando Sur and blanketed the section with white smoke. Then came the avalanche. The entire section of screaming, rabid fans cascaded against the perimeter fence. The fence bowed; then buckled; then collapsed. The barras bravas poured onto the field.

  Riot police, armed with batons and plastic shields, swarmed to meet the storming herd, and they clashed like two armies on the battlefield just past the goal. The police began swinging their batons in earnest and firing tear gas into the crowd, but the zealous fans continued to press forward like a conquering army bent on conquest. For a moment it looked like the mob of soccer fans would win, but then shots were fired, and the exhilaration of victory transformed into the panic of survival. The conquering army of fans began a hasty retreat as the line of riot police moved forward.

  Julio ignored the pandemonium around him and worked his way closer to the field. Raúl was somewhere in the middle of that clash. As the line of riot police advanced, the field behind them was littered with fallen fans. Most of them were clutching at their heads or writhing on the ground in pain. A few of them were still. He pushed his way closer.

  As the riot police routed the would-be conquerors, a lone ambulance drove onto the field behind the battle line. Strangely, it passed several fans in obvious need of medical attention and stopped beside a young man that wasn’t moving. The driver jumped out and rounded the back of the vehicle. It was Isak Blixt. He opened the back of the ambulance and Doctor Kozyar emerged. Together they pulled a small stretcher from the ambulance, placed it beside the stationary fan, and rolled him over. Even from a distance Julio could tell it was Raúl. With little effort, they hoisted his unconscious body onto the stretcher and shoved it into the ambulance. Doctor Kozyar disappeared inside. Isak buttoned up the doors and slid behind the wheel. The ambulance drove off the field and disappeared out the side of the stadium.

  Julio tried to run, but his legs were weak and his stomach jumped into his throat. The celebrating crowd felt suffocating, and he pushed his way out of the stadium where he could breathe again. As soon as it was clear enough, he hopped on his skateboard and skated through the crowd and around the stadium. The ambulance was gone. He turned his board and kicked for home.

  The uneven door
scraped against the concrete as he yanked it open and took the stairs two-by-two up to Doctor Barilla’s apartment. He shoved against the door, but it was locked. He pounded on it, but nobody answered. He hurried back down the stairs and checked the office, but it was dark as well. He sat on the bottom step and put his head in his hands. He racked his brain trying to come up with some way to stop Isak, but nothing came to mind. He thought of all the advice Mamá had given him, but none of it seemed to fit. Strangely, Isak’s words to Sergio echoed in his head—Shall I kill one of your brothers, or can we trade a life for a life?

  He rummaged through his backpack pockets and found Isak’s card. Since it was Saturday, he hoped that Isabela wouldn’t be working and the call would go straight to Isak. He dialed the number. Isak answered after the third ring.

  “This is Isak Blixt from Caritas.”

  Julio swallowed back his fear and answered, “Isak, this is Julio César Camino de Pachacutec, but you can call me Julio.”

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Julio César Camino de Pachacutec. The young man you have in the ambulance with you is Raúl Puma Camino de Pachacutec, my twin brother.”

  Isak waited a long time before answering, and Julio could hear the sound of traffic in the background. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “I was at the game. I saw you take him from the field.” Julio decided to bluff. “I am prepared to take the evidence I have to Sofía Encuentro.”

  “Everything Caritas is doing falls within the bounds of international law. You have nothing.”

  “Unless you harvest my twin brother. He never volunteered for Caritas.”

  “Prove that it’s your twin brother,” demanded Isak.

  “Check the right eyebrow of the young man in your ambulance. Remember that the gang shaved my right eyebrow less than a week ago.” Julio heard the phone go silent but could tell the call hadn’t ended.

  A moment later, Isak came back on. “The eyebrow is different, but that still isn’t proof.”

  “He has the remains of a recent black eye, and he has a scar over his left eyebrow. I gave him that scar, and the real Julio doesn’t have that scar.”

  “Those are all cosmetic differences. The DNA sensor doesn’t lie.”

  “Which hand is the charity chip in? You know I chose the left hand.” The phone went silent again.

  After another long pause, Isak responded. “What do you want?”

  “I want to trade a life for a life.”

  “A life for a life . . . Very well,” began Isak. “Meet me—”

  “I will send you a text telling you where to meet me,” said Julio. Then he ended the conversation, turned off the phone, and took out the battery and SIM card. He didn’t want to be tracked.

  He used the hidden key and slipped into Doctor Barilla’s office. He went straight to the storage cabinet and grabbed a scalpel and a large bandage. He knew he wouldn’t have time for stitches, if his plan worked at all, and he didn’t bother to take the suture kit. He found the flash drive still on the floor across the room and tucked it into his pocket hoping to sell his bluff. He locked up as he left. The scrape of the uneven stairwell door against the concrete aroused a strange sense of nostalgia as he skated away.

  Next, he skated to the gas station near his house. He was glad to see Zambo working. “Hola, Zambo. Trade you a cell phone for a refill?”

  Zambo gave him a funny look. “Who did you steal the cell phone from?”

  Julio grinned and pulled a phone from his backpack. “It was a gift. I swear.” He held it out to Zambo. “But I need two bottles.”

  “Does the phone work?”

  Julio pressed the power button and the phone came to life.

  Zambo shrugged. “I’ll give you several liters for that.”

  A few minutes later, Julio skated for El Infierno with three one-liter bottles full of diesel fuel.

  El Infierno was empty when he arrived, but the ashes in the fire pit were still smoking. Someone had been here last night. He knocked down the ashes and piled all the spare wood he could find, along with some fabric scraps, in the pit. He pulled his juggling batons from his backpack and threw them onto the pile as well. Finally, he tossed his skateboard on top of the pile. If his plan worked, he wouldn’t need the batons or the skateboard. He took out one of the bottles and sprinkled diesel fuel on the pile. He stuffed a rag into the top of the half-empty bottle leaving a long strip to act as a wick and placed it in the middle of the pile with the piece of fabric extended where it would be easy to light.

  He dragged three of the old sewing machine tables from the edges of the room and placed them in front of the elevator shaft and gathered armfuls of old fabric scraps and piled them on until the pile of musty fabric was taller than he was. He stood in front of the elevator shaft. The pile of tables and fabric provided a small barrier between the fire pit and the open shaft, hopefully enough to give him some cover.

  He rummaged through his backpack and removed his lighter and the medical supplies from Doctor Barilla’s office. He tucked the lighter into his pocket and placed the scalpel and bandages on the middle sewing table where he could access it without being seen from the fire pit. Then he shoved his backpack with the second bottle of diesel fuel under the pile of scraps that formed the barrier and set the third bottle on the floor next to the barrier.

  Standing in the opening of the shaft, he found the metal ladder just inside and climbed on to test it. The acrid smell burned at his nose. He ignored the smell and climbed down the ladder to check the pipe opening—still unobstructed and filthy. He stopped and kissed his pendant. “Saint Michael,” he whispered, “guardian of souls, vanquisher of rebel spirits, pray for us.” Then he looked up the shaft and added, “Mamá, if you can hear me, I’m trying to keep my promise, but I need your help.”

  He climbed up the ladder and slid out of the shaft. The sun was going down. He figured that los mALditos would be celebrating today’s victory at Plaza Sol y Sombra with the rest of La Victoria and wouldn’t show up tonight until late into the night, if they showed up at all. He put the battery and SIM card back into his smart phone and turned it on. Then he hung on the ladder just inside the shaft and using the camera from his phone, peeked around the wall without exposing himself. From this position, he could see anyone that came up the stairs and the drainage pipe at the bottom of the shaft gave him an escape route. The makeshift barricade of old tables and fabric gave him some cover.

  He climbed out of the shaft and moved to the fire pit. He snapped a picture, looking toward his makeshift barrier in front of the elevator shaft. He slipped outside and took a picture of El Infierno from the street, making sure to capture the street address. When he was satisfied that he had prepared well for his plan, he texted the pictures to Isak Blixt with a message. Bring Raúl here to this warehouse. Come upstairs and stand next to the fire pit. You have one hour before I take the evidence to Sofía Encuentro.

  * * *

  Isak used the entire hour, and by the time Julio saw his black sedan pull up in front of El Infierno, the sun had set and a thin layer of fog had shrouded Lima. Isak stepped out of the car and looked around before opening the trunk and extracting a black duffle bag. With the bag in one hand, he opened the back door and pulled out Raúl. He kicked the door shut and locked the car before pulling Raúl across the street to the entrance of the gang hideout.

  Julio wiped the sweat from his palms and struck a flame with his lighter. He lit the strip of fabric in the fire pit and hurried to the elevator shaft and climbed onto the ladder. He peeked around the corner with his phone just as the fire exploded to life and lit up the room. He turned his camera on so he could see Isak come up the stairs, but neither Isak nor Raúl emerged. A few seconds later his phone vibrated. Isak Blixt was calling.

  “Hola, Julio,” said Isak before Julio could speak. “I brought your brother as instructed. Come downstairs so we can make the trade.”

  “No. You come upstairs.”


  “How do I know that this isn’t a trap? Are you alone, or do have your gang members ready to pounce on me the moment I come up the stairs.”

  “Everyone is at the victory celebration. We are alone. Besides, I’m sure you are armed.”

  “I do believe in superior firepower. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” Isak chuckled. “Si Dios quiere.” The call ended.

  When Julio peeked around the corner again, he could see the top of Isak’s head over the makeshift barrier. Isak had come upstairs while they were talking. He couldn’t tell if Raúl was with him. He searched with his camera phone, but the barrier blocked his view. He would have to get out of the elevator shaft and face Isak. He glanced down at the drainage pipe, kissed his pendant, and swung himself out of the shaft.

  Before he faced Isak, he slipped the lighter out of his pocket and held it in his left hand. He wanted to be ready to light the barrier on fire if he needed to make a quick escape. Then he grabbed his cell phone in his right hand and turned on the video camera before poking the phone around the barrier. He wanted to capture his exchange with Isak as evidence.

  Isak stood by the crackling fire with Raúl in front of him. Raúl’s mouth was taped shut and his hands were bound by the plastic restraints all too familiar to Julio. Isak was dressed in his black coat and held a large black rifle at Raúl’s back.

  He turned and shouted into the elevator shaft to create an echo and hide his exact position. “Release Raúl!”

  “Not until I see you and you give me what I want,” answered Isak as he scanned the warehouse.

  Julio stepped out far enough to be seen by Isak. “I’m here. Release Raúl.”

  Isak’s smile was smug. “How do I know you won’t run away as soon as I release him?”