Forced Disappearance

by Marton, Dana

  Glenn thought for a couple of moments. “If we walk down the side of the road, we’ll be in full view of any law enforcement that drives by.” He thought some more, then a slow smile spread on his face as he looked at her. “But the cops aren’t looking for a couple with a baby. Let’s switch.” He handed her the baby carrier and took her sisal bag.

  Okay. This could work. She shrugged into the baby carrier so it was hanging in the front, as intended. But, even from far away, it’d be pretty obvious that the carrier was empty. She raised an eyebrow at Glenn.

  “Let’s make a baby,” he said with a grin and lunged into action, even as she had to catch her breath a little.

  He used the canteens to create the bulk of the dummy, then his extra shirt to cover them up, the sleeves hanging out the bottom holes to look like legs, her old T-shirt balled up to create the head. Focused on the project, he was totally oblivious to how what he’d just said sounded.

  She shook off the strange longing his words had brought to life inside her, and helped, considered the final product. “Not bad.”

  They weren’t going to fool anyone who looked closely, but a police car driving by at fifty miles an hour would probably think that they had a baby with them. They wore different clothes than those that would be in their descriptions. Glenn had dark glasses.

  They started out walking at a good pace, but had only walked a few hundred feet when a rusty pickup truck pulled over in front of them.

  “Aeropuerto?” the driver, an older, local man, asked through the rolled-down window.

  “Sí.”

  He gestured toward the back.

  “Muchas gracias, señor,” Glenn thanked him with a grin and they got in.

  They sat on planks screwed to the metal frame, no tailgate, their feet just hanging over the edge. She put a hand protectively over her “baby,” but the old guy wasn’t driving fast, barely puffing along. Still, they were on their way. If they could get into the airport and sneak on a plane, they’d be halfway to safety.

  Glenn kept an eye on the cars passing them. “How heavy do you think airport security is?”

  “Nowhere near US levels. And this is a minor airport in the middle of nowhere. On the average day, I think we could sneak through without much trouble. But they’ll be keeping an eye out for us.”

  He looked her over. “The baby helps, but we’re still recognizable close up.”

  “Our best bet is to join a tourist group and get in with them.”

  They talked about that, and explored some other options on the drive there.

  Once they reached the airport, the old man let them off at the turnoff to the main building, and they thanked him for his help. They walked the rest of the way to the parking lot and waited for the next tour bus to come in.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Two buses arrived at the same time, one carrying senior citizens, the other the same group of botanists they’d run into in the forest.

  Neither group had kids.

  She adjusted the carrier. “The baby’s going to stick out.” And even if it didn’t, a single closer look at it would give them away. Anybody who came close enough would see that she just had a bunch of things stuffed in there.

  As Miranda rounded one of the buses with Glenn, she shrugged off the baby carrier. “We need to get rid of our weapons too. Don’t want to set off the metal detectors.”

  She shoved her gun and knife into the carrier. She waited for Glenn to do the same, then rolled the whole package under a bus when nobody was looking. Then they caught up to the tour group, as if hurrying to their flight.

  “Excuse me.” She pushed ahead, and people let her pass.

  She was roughly in the middle of the group, Glenn still in the back. Better if they weren’t right next to each other. They passed through the entrance—guards on both sides, looking at people, but the soldiers weren’t checking papers at this stage. Miranda twisted backwards when she got in line with them, keeping her head down as if looking for her cell phone in her back pocket.

  Two more steps and she was past the guards.

  Okay. Don’t stick out. Don’t draw attention.

  She stayed with the botanists until they began lining up for check-in at the counter. She had no papers. She couldn’t check in, so she headed for the bathrooms. Glenn waited until she reached the door, then he strolled to the men’s room.

  “Four guards just in this area alone,” he said under his breath once he caught up with her. He pretended to look at a tour company ad on the wall.

  “I noticed.” She bent to tie her boot without looking at him.

  He didn’t look at her either. “We need to find a way to the tarmac and hide on the plane.”

  She considered the possibilities as she straightened. If they could lift a pair of ground crew uniforms, they could get to the plane. Then maybe they could hide in a bathroom and not come out until the plane was in the air, stash the uniforms in the bathroom. Or . . . get into the luggage compartment. There had to be a way they could make this work.

  She turned completely away from Glenn, then stepped inside the restroom, washed her hands, patted her hair down. She was out in two minutes, Glenn still reading the ad.

  “I’ll go and figure out when our flight is leaving. You go to the bathroom next,” she whispered as she passed him. It was better for them not to be seen together.

  She meandered over to the board and looked at the departing flights, barely a handful. A local airline was going to Caracas in two hours. She walked over to the airport map on the wall. The drawing showed a single runway. Okay, so finding the plane shouldn’t be too difficult.

  She went and sat in an out-of-the-way corner, inspecting every inch of the airport while trying to appear bored, staring around at nothing in particular. A door on the far wall to her left led to a restricted area. Staff Only, according to a bilingual, red-lettered sign.

  That looked promising. Except for the armed soldier who stood guard.

  She scanned him, his rifle, his build. She could probably take him, but she couldn’t start a fight. They needed to reach the plane undetected. She turned back to the main area, hoping to spot an unsecured door.

  Glenn returned from the bathroom and scanned the display at a small eatery tucked under the stairs that led to offices on the second level.

  Miranda walked up next to him, looked through bags of packaged food as she said under her breath, “We should have gone to the service entrance instead of arrivals and departures. We can’t go through check-in. The only door I can see that has potential is guarded. We have to find a way through it.”

  He nodded imperceptibly.

  And then they went their separate ways. She returned to her bench, picked up a Spanish language newspaper somebody had discarded, and pretended to read it. At least she could use it to cover most of her face.

  They needed a strategy. She settled in to analyze the situation.

  Threat: Armed guard.

  Opportunity: The door they had to get through didn’t have a keycard. The airport as a whole didn’t appear too high tech, in fact, which could work to their advantage.

  Strategy: Move close enough to the door so if the guard was called away for a second or got otherwise distracted, they could slip through quickly.

  To that end, she relocated to the very last bench, only fifteen feet or so from her target.

  The guard looked decidedly bored, casting longing glances toward the coffee counter, and toward two of his buddies who were on duty outside, smoking and chatting in front of the wall of windows that looked to the parking lot.

  Glenn understood her move, and strode up to the payphone on the wall on the guard’s other side, pretending to be using it. Now they were both in position. If the guard went for that coffee, they’d be through the door before anyone could blink.

  But the guard seemed to b
e resisting the siren call of caffeine rather admirably. He only stepped aside a foot as the door behind him opened and a cleaning lady came through, pushing her cart, heading for the bathrooms on the other end of the waiting area.

  Possible plan B?

  Even as she thought that, she caught Glenn eyeing the cart that held a gray plastic garbage can that could actually hide a small person. He raised an eyebrow at Miranda.

  Let’s see. For about half a minute she thought it might just work. But she shook her head as she ran through that scenario.

  She could disable the woman in the bathroom, hide in the container; then, disguised as the woman, Glenn could push her through into the restricted area. Except Glenn was a full foot taller than the cleaning lady and only half as wide, missing melon-size boobs among other things. The soldier wouldn’t mistake him for the cleaning lady in a million years, not even if Glenn had a Hollywood makeup expert to help.

  She exchanged a disappointed look with him, then drew a deep breath. Back to plan A.

  As the woman disappeared behind the door of the ladies’ room, a family of six scrambled over and stormed the benches next to Miranda. Four kids under the age of ten. They were speaking some German-sounding language with English-like words thrown in. Maybe Dutch.

  Their littlest girl, about two, ran around, checking everything out. She had the look of a kid who’d been cooped up in a car way too long. She stopped in front of the guard and flashed him an impish look, held out her stuffed horsie, and said something.

  The guard smiled at her.

  The little girl pulled a cracker out of her pocket and stepped closer to hold the treat out for the man. He laughed out loud at that, nodded to the parents, then back to the girl, “Muchas gracias, señorita.”

  He was friendly, maybe had a kid that age at home, Miranda thought. The girl ran another couple of circles, but then dashed back to talk to the guard. She seemed to be very taken with him. They didn’t speak the same language, but that didn’t seem to bother them any.

  The kid ran out into the open area again, arms stretched to the side, making airplane sounds. And then she tripped.

  She went down hard, head first into the tile floor, blood squirting from her nose the next second. Her parents ran toward her, and so did the guard.

  While all attention was on them, Miranda and Glenn darted for the door. A few steps and they were through, in a long hallway.

  She hurried forward. “Let’s find the locker room where the ground crew gets dressed. We need uniforms.”

  Glenn caught up, grinned at her. “Hey, we’re almost there. We did it.”

  They were about three quarters of the way when the door at the other end opened and Roberto stepped through, four guards coming in behind him.

  Shit. Miranda didn’t have time to so much as blink before the men aimed their weapons at Glenn and her.

  They had nowhere to run, and certainly no place to hide in the hallway. For a split second, Glenn considered charging the men. Even certain death would be better than being dragged back to the torture chamber.

  But reason won over his animal instinct of flee or fight. Game theory. When one opponent was overwhelmingly superior in strength, the weaker player’s best option was to complicate the game. You added some twists and turns, some variables. The more complicated the game, the more luck came into play. Luck could even the odds, favor the weaker player.

  So playing for time was their best option here. Drag it out. Give luck a chance to come into play. Glenn stepped in front of Miranda and raised his hands into the air. “We surrender.”

  “Take them out back,” Roberto snapped. All civility gone from his face, his eyes were hard, his body language aggressive, head forward, shoulders up. His prisoners’ escape from the transport truck had obviously pissed him off.

  His jaw stiff, he gave a sharp nod, and two guardsmen rushed forward to grab Glenn to drag him toward the back door that led to the tarmac. Glenn didn’t fight them. Better save his energy for a time when it would make a difference. He glanced back to Miranda just as the other two guardsmen grabbed her by the arms.

  He hated that part the most, assholes putting their hands on her, being rough. She didn’t let them intimidate her, though: chin up, she ignored them as if they were nothing.

  In a few steps, they were all outside, squinting against the bright sun. The plane sat at the end of the runway. Right there. Within reach, dammit. Frustration punched into Glenn as he scanned the half-dozen mechanics servicing the plane, other workers loading luggage. Given the right uniforms, Miranda and he could have made it on board.

  To be caught this close to the goal line was beyond maddening.

  But disappointment and frustration were unproductive emotions that weren’t going to win the day here, so he let go of their failed plan. No going back. He had to move forward, come up with something else. Complicate the game.

  “We’re United States citizens,” he called back to Roberto. “I demand that the United States embassy is notified of our arrest. I have rights.”

  Roberto sneered as he passed the prisoners. “You will find, Mr. Danning, that capitalist spies have very few rights in my country.”

  “The US government will be looking for us,” Miranda warned, sounding calm and reasonable. “You don’t want to create an international incident.”

  Roberto shrugged. “If someone else comes, I’ll happily assist with the investigation. Of course, such investigations are rarely fruitful. Do you have any idea how many people disappear in Latin America without a trace every year? My report will show that Mr. Danning mixed himself up in drug trafficking. I’ll document that I advised you of that fact and warned you not to travel into dangerous areas and approach the criminal element. Unfortunately, you ignored that advice. Americans are very stubborn. They think they know everything better. They think they’re invincible.”

  Glenn kept the rising fury inside him bottled, to be used at a more opportune moment.

  They were marched to a loading bay where a canvas-backed army truck waited for them, the kind they were already familiar with. Once again, they were loaded into the back, but this time, the guardsmen cuffed the prisoners to the bench and kept their guns in hand, ready and aimed.

  “Shoot them if they so much as sneeze,” Roberto ordered dispassionately before closing the flap himself.

  Glenn scanned the interior of the truck. The trick they’d used last time wouldn’t work. One step forward, two steps back.

  Complicate the game. Sounded good in theory. What in hell could they complicate in the back of a moving truck, handcuffed in place?

  He examined every inch of the interior, looking for an idea. If the truck held anything that could help them escape, he’d missed it. He returned his gaze to Miranda. “I’m sorry. You’re only here because of me.”

  “If I wasn’t here for you, I’d be somewhere else for someone else. I signed up for this mission knowing full well what it entailed.” She turned to the soldier next to her and spoke in broken Spanish, “Could you please tell me where we are going?”

  The young man didn’t respond, just kept his rifle aimed and steady.

  What if the soldiers were taking them back to Guri?

  Glenn turned toward the canvas flap that closed them in, but couldn’t see out through the narrow gap. He had no idea what direction they were going.

  Cold dread spread in his chest. All right. Don’t think about the commander. Think about the opportunity. Guri would be several hours away. A lot could happen on a long ride. He or Miranda could come up with a brilliant plan between now and then.

  But they spent less than twenty minutes on the main highway. The truck turned onto a dirt road and kept going, rattling over the uneven ground. Soon the narrow crack in the canvas flap showed green outside. They were heading into the forest.

  To be summarily executed?


  Glenn’s gaze cut to Miranda, but she didn’t look worried.

  “Where are you taking us?” she demanded of the guardsmen. “We are innocent. We are US citizens.”

  None of the men blinked an eye. Maybe they didn’t speak English.

  Glenn tested the cuffs. Tight. No slipping out of those. But maybe Miranda’s slim wrists . . . He checked her hands. Maybe not. Her cuffs looked equally snug.

  The idea of her coming to harm was unbearable.

  He wanted to grab one of the bastards in the back of the truck and . . . All right. They couldn’t grab. But they could kick. He tried to catch Miranda’s eye, but she sat deep in thought. “Why are you so calm?”

  “Panicking isn’t going to help.” She glanced up. “They’re not going to kill us yet.”

  “How do you know?”

  “From what you told me, the commander is a sadistic tyrant. He’ll want his pound of flesh. He’ll want revenge. You made him lose face in front of his men when you escaped. He’s going to want retribution for that.”

  “There’s a thought to make a man feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” More torture. Every muscle in Glenn’s back tensed. “So this is the good news?”

  “The good news is that we’ll get a little time after we’re uncuffed from these benches. Better than instant execution. Although, I’d prefer a weekend in Vienna.” She smiled at him.

  She was trying to cheer him up, a valiant, selfless effort. This was his Miranda. His heart turned over in his chest. No, he wasn’t going to let her go again. Now that he had her back in his life, he’d be damned if they were going to die in the middle of some godforsaken rainforest.

  “I’m going to take you to Vienna,” he promised. Then refocused on what they had to do before that could happen. “Do you think the commander is around here somewhere?”

  She thought about that for a few seconds. “He sent his guardsmen to assist Roberto. He’s definitely in the loop. So once he hears that you’ve been recaptured, will he shrug and go on with his business?”