ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE

by Joan Mauch

  Besides that, mosquitoes were making him their late-night snack. With little success, he waved his hand frantically in front of his face to ward them off. They seemed to return as quickly as they departed.

  He was about to call it a night, when a van pulled up and stopped directly behind Leon’s backyard. It was the break Jackson had been hoping for. All he had to do now was make sure that van contained the human cargo he suspected it held and then call police, hoping they arrived while the victims were still inside. It shouldn’t be that hard.

  As he stood up, a startled cat fled, knocking over a pile of beer cans. He quickly stooped behind the Dumpster, lowering his head in an effort to somehow make himself smaller. After a few seconds, hearing nothing, he got on his feet. That’s when he felt cold metal press against the back of his neck and heard a voice shout, “Leon, get over here. We got company.

  Chapter 54

  Waiting for the latest shipment of illegals to come through the back door, Zac sat at the kitchen table perusing his travel brochures. Not only did he suspect Leon may be using cruise ships as a means of “importing” his so-called product, but he wondered if the man used it as a means of the occasional “export” as well. He had no proof, of course, any more than the police did. It was only a gut feeling.

  As he looked at the colorful pamphlets, he couldn’t help but think how great it would be to go on one of those trips. The flier he held in his hand was for five days starting in Tampa, with stops in the Grand Caymans, Mahogany Bay and Belize—wherever the hell they were. By the looks of the photographs, they were tropical places. How cool would that be?

  He was so focused on pictures of the gleaming cruise ship with its festive passengers, placid ocean scenes and endless beaches, complete with scantily-clad beauties, that he didn’t hear Leon approach.

  “Hey, Zac,” he called out, “Look what we found.”

  Zac glanced up and saw the last thing he expected: Jackson being hauled through the door, a gun at his back. Struggling to keep from acknowledging their relationship, Zac avoided eye contact with his brother.

  “Oh yeah? He come in the van with the others?”

  “No, stupid. He look like one a them women who don’t speak English?”

  Zac shrugged and scrutinized Jackson. His brother, shorter than Zac anyway, seemed to have shrunk by several inches.

  “Guess not. Where’d he come from?”

  “He was hiding in the alley watchin’ us unload the van.”

  “Really? He with the police?”

  “Don’t know. Didn’t have ID. Says not, but why else’d he be out there this time a night?”

  Zac shrugged. “What’d he say?”

  “Said his old lady kicked him out ’n he wuz searching through the Dumpster for food.”

  “Maybe it’s the truth.”

  “Yeah, right. Look at him. Way he’s dressed? He look like someone who’d have to rummage through garbage to find food? Even if he’s telling the truth, wouldn’t he just spend the night at a hotel or with a friend?” He thumped Jackson hard on the back.

  “You. Sit.” Turning to Zac and nodding toward the new arrivals, he said, “Take them upstairs while I sign Sam’s papers and figure out what to do with him.”

  Zac took a hard look at his younger brother. Why the hell hadn’t he stayed away? As usual he’d stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong. But this time he might pay for it with his life.

  Chapter 55

  The whole time he was upstairs watching the latest “shipment”, Zac brooded over what he could possibly do to rescue his brother. No matter which way he looked at it, the endpoint was the same: they’d be found out—and would pay a heavy price for their deception.

  Leon was not a forgiving man. He’d consider Zac a traitor. After all, he’d provided a place for Zac to stay when he had nowhere else to turn. If he discovered Zac was a snitch, well, as they say in those old Westerns, his life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel.

  One of the girls nudged him and pointed to the bathroom. He nodded. Why they felt his permission was necessary, he didn’t know. A pattern had been established when they entered the room and, one by one, the women sought his approval to go to the toilet. It made him feel like a school teacher. At least he didn’t ask if it was for “number one” or “number two.”

  Leon came up with a tray of rations: some kind of sandwiches, soup, chips and cans of pop. The women were so hungry, they seemed grateful, as though it was a feast—which maybe to them it was. Who knows when they’d eaten last? Zac wondered what would happen when they reached their final destination and realized they’d been duped; there’d be no fancy education or high-paying job—only a slave’s life of endless work or sexual exploitation.

  One pretty young girl looked particularly hopeful. She smiled at him as she dug into a baloney sandwich and sipped her drink. At the thought of what she faced, a surge of anger tore through Zac. Unable to make eye contact, he swallowed hard and looked away.

  Before Jackson’s unexpected appearance, Zac had begun to think about dumping this gig. By now Izzie was probably dead or in some Middle-Eastern harem. The police hadn’t been able to catch Leon and his cronies in the act. And from what Detective Anders said, human trafficking in the U.S. was so pervasive, catching a few victims or traffickers here or there wouldn’t make a dent in the problem. Why bother?

  That’s the frame of mind he’d been in to the point he’d seriously begun to think about taking one of those cruises and then heading back to Iowa. Now with Jackson’s arrival, all that changed. What a freaking mess.

  Chapter 56

  It was after eleven and the “guests” were thankfully gone. When Zac had escorted them downstairs, he expected to see Jackson at the kitchen table under Leon’s watchful eye, but the room was empty. Where was he?

  While Leon was outside finishing up with the distributor, Zac took a quick tour of the first floor, thinking his brother had been stashed in one of the rooms, but there was no trace of him. Sweat erupted on his temples and under his armpits. The temperature in the room seemed to spike. He could scarcely breathe. Did Leon murder Jackson? Oh God, no, not that.

  He loved his younger brother. Yes, they’d had their differences. If he was honest, Zac had to admit his younger brother’s success gnawed at him.

  Five years older than Jackson, Zac had always been something of a screw-up, taking the easy way out, never thinking beyond the next drink or hookup. Their parents had tried to “motivate” him by comparing his younger brother’s accomplishments to his failures.

  To say it didn’t work, would be an understatement. It didn’t make him want to succeed, or go back to school and get some training. It just made him angry—at his parents, at his brother and at the world. And now? Dad was dead. Mom alone. And his only brother? What had Leon done with him?

  The back door slammed shut signaling Leon’s return. How could he bring up the topic of Jackson? He’d have to be careful.

  “So, they’re on their way?”

  “Yep. Another day, another dollar, so to speak.” Leon swept his hands together, a relieved expression on his face. “I’m always glad when we move them out without nosy neighbors causing problems.” He stooped down and retrieved Tiny’s food bowl. “Feel free to feed him when I’m busy,” he said. “I don’t gotta do everything around here, ya’ know.”

  “All right. Sorry about that.” Zac stretched and yawned. “It’s been a long day.” He looked around as if checking for something. “Say, where’s that guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “You know, the one you found in the alley. You let him go?”

  “Don’t worry. I took care of him.”

  “What do you mean? What’d you do?” Zac knew he shouldn’t quiz Leon. The man had a sixth sense and would quickly figure something was up.

  “Nothing. What’s it to you anyway?”

  “I just wondered, that’s all. He saw me too, you know and can cause me as much grief as you. If I’m going to be par
t of this operation, I need to be able to cover my ass.”

  Leon hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to let Zac in on a secret. Then, he shrugged. “Follow me.”

  They went into a back room, a kind of office which held a desk and several chairs. A built-in bookcase took up part of the wall.

  Zac was puzzled. They’d been talking about what Leon did with Jackson and now the guy was showing off his home office? What the hell? He was about to ask Leon about Jackson again, when the man moved the desk, pressed something on the side of the bookcase and pulled. It rotated, revealing a hidden staircase. Zac was astonished. He’d only ever seen such things in movies.

  Leon snapped on a wall switch and gestured for him to follow. As they went down the steps, the space opened up into a room. On the bottom step, Zac blinked to accustom his eyes to the dim light. After a few seconds, he could make out several objects. Then what he saw caused his stomach to drop.

  Lying on a cot was Jackson. His eyes were closed, his mouth agape. Bruises on his face appeared swollen and bluish-black. Cold fingers of dread coursed through Zac. He took several deep breaths. He couldn’t let Leon see how upset he was.

  "He dead?" Zac managed to keep fear from overtaking his voice.

  "Naw. I drugged him. He'll be out a long time—or at least till we take care of him."

  Zac stood over the bed, looking down at his brother. He hadn’t a clue what Leon had in mind. Before he had a chance to speak, Leon pointed to a steamer trunk stashed in the corner.

  "We'll stuff him in that and send him on his way."

  He's going to dump Jackson in the Gulf? Zac's heart drummed in his ears. How could he prevent Leon from killing him? He glanced around the room for something to smash over the man’s head. That’s when he remembered Izzie. With Leon dead how would they find her? He knew in his gut Jackson would never forgive him if he did something like that.

  "How's that?" He managed to say casually, as if asking about dinner plans.

  “What?” Leon turned toward Zac, drilling him with his dark eyes.

  “I just wondered what the plan was.” Zac had to work hard to keep his voice on an even keel. Tell yourself you’re talking about Leon’s favorite ball team— the Rays?

  “Oh yeah, you haven’t done this before. I keep forgetting you’ve only been here a few days.” Leon slapped Zac on the back. “See how fast I got used to depending on you?”

  Surprised at the compliment, Zac forced a grin and wondered how to cash in on it. If Leon had begun to have confidence in him, maybe he’d let him “dispose” of his brother.

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He said, drawing on the acting experience he’d learned in high school theater. “So, what d’ya want me to do with him?”

  Leon looked from Zac to Jackson and back. “He’ll be out a long time. Let’s go upstairs and we’ll talk about it.”

  Tiny was asleep in the corner, enjoying the feel of cool cement against his body.

  “C’mon boy,” Leon nudged the dog with his foot. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 57

  Back upstairs, Leon rotated the bookcase making sure it was securely locked. “Get me a beer.”

  They sat around the kitchen table drinking the last of the Coronas, Leon’s favorite. Zac made a mental note to buy a case the next time he was out. Leon flipped through the brochures Zac left on the table.

  “Hey, you wanna go on a cruise?”

  He said it as though it occurred to him out of the blue. It was the last thing Zac expected. He thought he’d be ordered to dump Jackson’s body in a sugarcane field or a canal somewhere for alligators to find.

  “A cruise?” Zac didn’t bother keeping the astonishment from his voice.

  Leon threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t be so shocked. You were talking about it earlier.” He spread the brochures out in a fan and waved them in the air. “So, wanna take a cruise or not?”

  “Hell, yes,” Zac said. This time his enthusiasm was genuine, even if he was still puzzled. Why would Leon be so generous all of a sudden? Only a few hours ago he’d said he had neither the time nor the money for a cruise. “When do we leave?”

  “We’re not going—you are.”

  Zac was even more confused. What was Leon getting at? “I am?”

  “Yes. You are. And you’re taking our buddy downstairs with you.”

  All of a sudden the murky picture came into focus. Leon wanted Zac to spirit Jackson out of the country in a steamer trunk. For a moment he was at a loss for words. What do you say when your boss demands you do something that may very well mean the death of your only brother—and when refusing’s not an option?

  “I am?” he repeated.

  “Yes, you’re going to take care of this for me, and here’s how.”

  “Sounds like maybe you’ve done this before.” Zac tried to make it sound like an observation rather than an accusation.

  “You could say that.” Leon didn’t gloat—exactly, but to Zac he seemed proud. Right. Delivering people into slavery was an accomplishment all right, but to his way of thinking it wasn’t worth bragging about.

  “Well, it’s not a cruise exactly, but close enough.”

  “What do you mean?” If it wasn’t to be a cruise ship, what did Leon have in mind?

  “It’s a yacht. Ever been on one a those?”

  “A yacht?” Photographs of beautiful people lounging on a gorgeous craft danced before Zac’s eyes. “Where’re you gonna get something like that?”

  A smug expression crossed Leon’s face. “I got connections. In this business you got to have ’em or you’re dead meat.” He spoke as though tutoring a particularly slow child. “First we need to get you—and our friend downstairs—passports. Don’t worry about it. I have a guy who takes care of that stuff. Already called him. I took a picture of the guy, so we just need one of you—unless you have a passport. Do you?” He looked hopefully at Zac.

  “No. Never needed one of those,” Zac said.

  “I didn’t think so. They’ll be ready tomorrow. I also called about the yacht. You leave tomorrow—with the trunk, of course.”

  “What about customs? Won’t it be searched?”

  “Naw, they don’t usually bother us. They’ll think you’re just another tourist going deep-sea fishing or riding in a fancy boat.”

  “But won’t he suffocate, I mean being in a trunk like that?” Zac was frantic. How could he possibly rescue Jackson?

  Leon snorted. “Dude, I’ve done this a time or two and haven’t lost one yet. If they die, I don’t get paid; so ya’ think maybe I’m motivated to do it right?”

  Zac scratched his chin. “Is that what happened to that Izzie girl? You ship her off some place?” He realized the question was out of line, but he had to at least try.

  Leon’s face took on a sad mixture of sorrow and rage, then he glared at Zac. “You ever bring up her name again you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  He’d hit a nerve. That must be precisely what Leon did. Izzie’d been carted off in a steamer trunk. Now he had to find out where.

  After a few minutes during which Leon got himself under control, he said, “So, your passport’ll be ready and the yacht’s booked. All you gotta do is get on and keep your eye on the trunk. Here’s the key. Give it to the buyer when you get there.”

  Zac noticed how Leon always used business lingo when referring to his illegal activities. Maybe it was his way of justifying what he did—making it appear to be legitimate.

  “When the ship arrives in Belize—”

  “Belize? We’re going to Belize?”

  “Yeah, didn’t I tell you that?” Leon seemed amused.

  “No, you didn’t. How far is it?”

  “Around 800 miles. It should take a little over two days, assuming there’s no problem with the weather.”

  “So, the guy—you know, the guy downstairs—he’ll be in the trunk the whole time?”

  “Yep.”

  “How? I mean, he’s gotta have food, wat
er, be able to use the bathroom. Besides, being all curled up in a trunk for two days, I wouldn’t do that to a dog.”

  “Good thing you’re not in charge, then, ain’t it?”

  The expression on Leon’s face said don’t mess with me. Zac knew that look only too well.

  “If you’re not up to the job, I’ll take care of it.”

  The way Leon said it reminded Zac of a parent trying to get their kid to take out the trash. He couldn’t risk letting Leon ‘take care’ of Jackson. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Does the guy who owns the boat know what we’re doing?”

  “Not in so many words, I mean I think he’s figured out we’re not exactly Boy Scouts, but he doesn’t ask questions long as he gets his money.”

  He took a final swig of beer and tossed the empty bottle in the garbage. “Once you get to Belize, the buyer’ll be waiting for you at the dock. You deliver the trunk and the key; he pays for the merchandise and your job’s done. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Do I pay for the boat too?”

  “Naw, I take care of that upfront. Anything else?”

  “Be okay if I stay a few days? I’ve never been to Belize. I’d like to look around if it’s all right with you. I could fly back.” It was the only way Zac could begin to extract Izzie and Jackson from the mess they’d gotten into.

  “No problem, but don’t stay too long. I want my money, ya know and I need your help around here—now that I’ve gotten used to it. And, Zac…don’t even think of running off. As you probably figured out, I have a big network of contacts. One word from me, and you’ll get a trunk of your own.” Leon’s expression said he meant every word he said.

  “Hey, you don’t need to worry about that.” Zac put on his “you can trust me” face and hoped the man bought it.

  Leon stared at him, then leaned back in the chair with a satisfied look. “So, think you can get the job done without screwing up?”