Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

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Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo Page 10

by Ronda Pauley

Louise came back with the copies in a file folder and handed them to Abbi who smiled and thanked her. Then she handed the copies to Mrs. Hightower.

  “I hope you’ll find something in Mom’s notes that will be useful,” Abbi said.

  “I will study her notes intently. And I also have something for you,” Mrs. Hightower said as she handed Abbi a packet. “Abeni, in here you’ll find everything you’re going to need.”

  “But Nanny?”

  The woman put a finger to Abbi’s lips.

  “Hush now,” she said hoarsely. “Don’t call me that. It could put all of our lives in more danger than we already are. Remember these things I told you. At my age I forget things sometimes but, Abeni, I never ever forgot you.”

  “I never ever forgot you, either,” Abbi said. “I’ve missed you!”

  Mrs. Hightower continued to speak to Abbi in a hoarse whisper.

  “In this packet are instructions. There’s a script for you to learn. Also find badges that will allow your entrance to high-level places. You’ll work under assumed names. You are taking on a new role for this mission. Read these documents and commit everything to memory. You, too, Louise. Then destroy the instructions and script. Burn them in the toilet and flush. You understand? You must follow the instructions explicitly. These steps are contingent, such as ‘if this, then that’, so learn the plan and be ready for change at a moment’s notice.”

  Abbi froze.

  “You can do this. Please do as I say. I suppose your mother still has wigs, Louise, things we might borrow? You will pick up boarding passes for your flight at the airport, but I can’t say at this moment exactly where you will be sent. You will find maps, metro passes, and some money--plenty enough for food, tickets or overnight lodgings if you need those things but I think you’ll be put up at no cost to you.”

  “Don’t spend any money on trinkets, only necessities. Save all receipts. Before you leave this house in the morning, put some of the money in your shoes. Do you both wear a bra? Then use it too. Keep just enough money in your handbags for a cheap meal but eat good food, not junk. You will be given more information on a need-to-know basis. Updates. You know how that works?”

  Abbi nodded that she did, since that’s all her parents would give her when they talked about their fictitious shoe business.

  “Do you have a phone?” the woman continued. “That won’t do. Use this, Abeni. It’s a secure line.”

  She handed Abbi a very plain-looking but durable phone.

  “Games?” Louise asked.

  Mrs. Hightower appeared to ignore her and continued, “My number’s already in it for you, Abbi. Speed dial 1 if you need me. So are Lowell’s and Shoe Clerk’s. That way you can keep in touch instantly. It works off satellite signals and should work anywhere you go. Don’t use it unless you run into an emergency. We must keep communication open. Learn the numbers in case something happens to the phone. This phone won’t do games, Louise, but it’s equipped with a state-of-the-art GPS system. Your whereabouts will be known by the FBI at all times, even if you end up in Mexico.”

  Abbi’s eyes grew wide as she took the phone.

  “Why can’t we go with you and Lowell?”

  “Lowell is going to pull an all-nighter, getting temporary headquarters ready for this mission. Don’t worry, Lowell, you’re young. You can handle it. You girls would just be in the way and, frankly, a liability. There are some things I need to get in order, so I won’t be baby-sitting.”

  She handed Abbi the packet.

  “How soon do I, we, leave?” asked Abbi, stammering, as she looked inside the packet. Her heart was now beating erratically.

  “Early tomorrow morning. I hope that isn’t rushing you, but the matter is urgent, as you know. I pray that you’ll stay safe.”

  Mrs. Hightower hugged both girls.

  “Louise, be sure the security system here is turned on when you leave. I am very grateful you’re on board with this.”

  Louise gave Mrs. Hightower a half smile.

  “I think it’s a hopeless escapade, but I’m in,” she said. “Sticking to Abbi like glue.”

  “Believe in this, Louise, with all your heart. Make it work. Memorize those instructions and the script.”

  “I’ve missed you so much!” Abbi said.

  “And I’ve missed you. If all goes well, I’ll see you again soon.”

  “I love you,” Abbi said, just stopping before she almost called her ‘Nanny’ again.

  “And I love you, too,” Mrs. Hightower said, obviously anxious to get started. It looked like she brushed a tear away. “Come on, Lowell. We need to leave.”

  “This is what I’ve been waiting for. They say strike while the iron’s hot. It’s hot now!” Lowell said as he grabbed his bags and went out the door. “You girls practice your self defense and stay safe! I’ll see you later.”

  “Fred’s Boots Incorporated just took on some new agents. We’ll be reporting to duty tomorrow, sir!” Abbi said, and added firmly. “Louise, we can do this!”

  They spilled out the contents of the packet Mrs. Hightower had given them. Strange and unfamiliar objects made sense when they found an itinerary to follow, the ‘if this, then that’ contingency. They began working on memorizing the script and quizzing each other.

  Then Abbi and Louise spent a few minutes practicing self defense on each other, sharing moves they had learned either from Lowell or their parents. The girls had already learned to do some of the moves automatically. They worked until they were slap-happy and needed to snooze.

  That night, in restless bouts of dream-filled sleep, Abbi heard about keeping a low profile from every member of the Pelletier family. They each told her she was in much more danger than she realized. Visions of her mother turned her restless dreams into a nightmare.

  Abbi’s groaning woke up Louise.

  “Hey, up there! Get some sleep!”

  “Mom has ways of letting me know when there is trouble. And, right now there is trouble. I sense it.”

  “That’s too weird. You’re dreaming. Just stop it,” Louise said, but this time her voice cracked and she hesitated.

  “Louise, I don’t think it’s a dream.”

  “You’re just kidding, aren’t you?”

  “No, no, I’m serious! She told me once, ‘If you ever need to know, you will’.”

  “I thought you dreamed that!” Louise said.

  “No, I didn’t dream it. She said it. And she’s thinking of me right now. That’s part of my reality! This stuff really happens –a touch, a warm feeling, thought communication, little nudges that let me know what to do, and lights that go on and off.”

  “Like when we went shopping at the mall, lights going off. Don’t take it so seriously, for your own good. If it’s real, it could be something evil,” Louise pleaded. “You’ve been exhausting yourself with worry. Your imagination’s in overdrive.”

  “There’s more and, as my best friend, I want you to know, Louise! Maybe when you need to, you can tap into this power too. It’s there to guide us, protect us. I get warnings sometimes, like right before my parents left last time. I felt so edgy.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “More serious than I’ve ever been in my life, I swear to God,” Abbi said as she climbed down from her bunk and reached for her phone.

  Louise sat up in bed, turned on the light and swallowed hard.

  “OK,” she said. “What else?”

  “My mother needs us. There is a way of knowing beyond seeing, beyond hearing, beyond feeling, beyond mental telepathy, a much deeper kind of knowing. More physical than you might think. More spiritual than you want to believe. There’s so much more to us than what you can see. My father taught me a little about it. One theory is that our spirits have the ability to zing right through another person, like flying through a cloud. Right through skin, through muscle, bone, organs, whatever’s there.”

  Louise gave a nervous laugh again.

  “Through our organs? Our guts?�
��

  “Yep!” Abbi said. She was being serious, but all of a sudden she decided to play on Louise’s fears. “The trouble is we have to be close to death to do it.”

  “You’re giving me goosebumps,” Louise said. “I don’t believe you.”

  Abbi realized that the dark night sky, heavy with rain clouds, probably added to Louise’s fear.

  “Yes, you do. Deep down, you know it’s true. We have ways of knowing things. Let me show you. My phone is about to ring. Lissssson!”

  Louise cleared her throat.

  “Go to sleep, Abbi!”

  Suddenly Abbi’s phone rang. Louise screamed.

  “OK. That’s taking it a bit too far!” Louise said, and threw a pillow at her. “How’d you do that?”

  “Ssh…This is real. Hello?” Abbi said as she answered the phone.

  Nothing. Just silence for a few seconds. Abbi pushed the button for speaker phone and set the recording button. She checked the caller ID. Unavailable.

  Then an unmistakable voice came on, possibly choked with tears, and said, “I’m Miss Shoe.”

  “Mom! MOM!” Abbi yelled, but the phone went dead. “She’s alive, Louise! Wherever you are, Mom, somehow I’ll find you!”

  Silently, she prayed for guidance.

  “I’m calling Shoe Clerk. We need a trace!” Abbi said.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Abbi was wide awake and dressed when the morning alarm sounded. Probably because of last night’s conversation and the late night phone call, Louise was a bit of a grump. Besides, it was still dark out. For Abbi, though, the excitement of being part of a rescue plan had her adrenalin pumping.

  “Up and at it, Louise!”

  “I don’t want to go, Abbi. Tell me it was all just a dream.”

  “We’re packed and ready. Get up.”

  “Can’t. Get. Up. Let’s sleep in and forget all this.”

  “Louise, we need to be awake, dressed like we work in a government office. That and travel may take a little time. Let’s get hopping!”

  Abbi’s government-issue phone, the one Mrs. Hightower gave her, rang. Both girls screamed before Abbi picked up.

  “Yes? Ok, got it!” she said.

  “Who was that?”

  “Gate Keeper with further instructions.”

  “Gate Keeper?”

  “All I can say is he’s part of the operation. Come on, Louise! We have a plane to catch. Put your game face on,” Abbi said.

  “Dress like we work in a government office? You sure you want to miss that dance contest?” Louise asked, only partly joking.

  “What stupid dance contest? I’ve forgotten it already,” Abbi said. “The first thing I need to do is change my look. How am I going to look like I work in an office? I look twelve, maybe fourteen if I add lipstick.”

  Abbi had actually slept very little. Last night’s phone call stayed on her mind. She couldn’t forget the strained sound of her mother’s voice. Before Louise could begin to talk her out of it, Abbi called Mrs. Hightower. She apparently hadn’t slept either. She assured Abbi that the team immediately began conducting a search for Miss Shoe’s location and that her shoes were very helpful.

  Abbi wondered what her shoes had to do with anything. Maybe there was something to Fred’s Boots Inc. after all, but Abbi was sleepy, maybe not thinking straight. The more Mrs. Hightower talked, the more Abbi woke up.

  “Even without her phone, we can still find her,” Mrs. Hightower explained. “Your mother is wearing state-of-the-art Smart Shoes. Even if they lock her up in a warehouse somewhere, our I-T and the CIA cyber unit will be able to pinpoint the very room that she’s in!”

  Abbi relayed the information to Louise. Things were apparently coming together. With this kind of technology, would the special rescue team really need Abbi on this mission?

  “Miss Shoe has Smart Shoes? That’s awesome!” Louise said.

  “Safe travels,” Mrs. Hightower said. “And God-speed!”

  “Wait, wait! Gate Keeper called. How does a person in a government office dress?”

  “You’ll figure it out. Louise can help,” Mrs. Hightower said.

  Abbi allowed Louise, who seemed to be gifted as an “image consultant”, to do her face and layer on some clothes for Abbi from her closet. Lucky for Abbi, Louise had found some older Sunday School clothes she’d outgrown. Though a bit prim for Abbi’s taste, they were only a little too big.

  While Louise rummaged around to find clothes that she could adapt and layer for office attire, Abbi showered and took a moment to reflect.

  Her mother knew Abbi possessed a gift, that way of knowing yet not scientifically “knowing”. For Abbi it was natural, and she believed everyone had that ability to some degree. Louise had tried to get her to ignore the nudges and warnings, afraid they came from a more sinister place, part of something evil.

  Abbi went through a brief period of doubting the sixth sense, the nudge, largely because of Louise’s cynicism. Gradually Abbi realized she had received many warnings of things to come, a sort of built-in protection. She grew to recognize the gentle touch or a voice that came to her unannounced. She received information in ways she couldn’t explain, information that actually seemed to guide her. Her mother had always known that. Maybe someone else knew too.

  Abbi continued to think of this as she dressed and paid little attention to the clothes Louise chose for her as she quickly put them on.

  “These may be a little big on you but going home to get your own clothes is out of the question,” Louise had said.

  After Abbi was dressed, Louise used professional techniques to apply a good foundation, and then deep shadows and highlights to accentuate Abbi’s facial structure.

  “How do you know how to do this?” Abbi asked. “It looks blotchy when I try.”

  “Magazines, mostly. I’m not trying to change you. I’m just enhancing what you already have. You’ll see. And this will make your eyes POP!”

  She brushed boldly-colored eyeshadow to Abbi’s eyelids, blended carefully, and then finished the eyes off with a layer of black mascara. When the look was completed, she handed Abbi a mirror.

  “Wow! I look different. Older!”

  “Positively sophisticated! I promise you won’t look like the woman in the office who’s always overdone.”

  Louise locked elbows with her and walked her over to the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

  “Now, take a look!”

  “I look like an entirely different person,” Abbi said as she admired the layered suit and scarf she was wearing and her miracle makeover. “But I can’t exactly show up with running shoes on.”

  “You can wear those for now,” said Louise, proud of her work. “Lots of people commute in running shoes all the time. It’s actually safer. If anyone asks, just tell them you left your shoes in the office.”

  “OK, then! I think we’re ready. You look great, Louise. Before we leave, let’s look at our instructions and practice our script one more time. Then we have to be ready to destroy it.”

  Both Abbi and Louise reviewed their lines and read over every bit of information they would need before they would meet up again with Mrs. Hightower. They especially studied their alternate identities as Miss Kowalski and Mademoiselle Soufflé.

  “I sound like something to eat. This is all very mysterious,” Louise said. “One more thing. I almost forgot.”

  Louise tried on a red wig. She came to show Abbi and asked, “How do I look?”

  “Nice! Got another one?” Abbi asked. Her own hair had dried to a curly mass.

  “Try this!” Louise said and handed her a blonde one.

  Abbi pinned the wig into place and checked it in the mirror.

  “Hubba hubba!” Louise said. “Ready?”

  “Ready. Let’s do it. This doesn’t look like me at all.”

  The girls went to the bathroom, found a book of matches in a drawer, lit a candle and then used it as if it were a part of a sacred ritual. They interviewed
each other for quick and accurate memorized responses, completed the task of burning the text and nervously laughed as the ashes were flushed down the toilet. Then they did their fist bump, set the alarm and left the house. The taxi had already arrived.

  As they lugged their bags out to the taxi, Abbi talked to Louise about the things that had kept her awake. She felt sure that her sixth sense was a gift, not a curse, but convincing Louise might be hard to do.

  “You know what—I’m beginning to think you’re right,” Louise said. “And I’m afraid we’re going to need it.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Tina fell asleep exhausted in a corner of her bedroom, huddled in her mother’s quilt, with pile of her own clothes as a pillow. She bunched up the quilt to keep warm. Without as much as a blink, she dozed off into deep sleep.

  She woke up late in the morning, near noon, in the same room but resting on a beautiful and soft bed, all made up with pink and purple pillows, a lacy comforter, and nice clean sheets. For a moment, she lay there, confused, not recognizing her surroundings. Rolled up at the foot of the bed was her mother’s quilt.

  She tried piecing it together, but her head was aching, making it hard to think. She began coughing. She hated the cough, a deep cough that kept producing nasty stuff she should spit out but she swallowed instead.

  She began to realize that her father must have brought in all this bedding and furniture for her while she was sleeping. She started laughing and coughing at the same time, happy that her father had thought of her.

  Her father knocked on the bedroom door.

  “Everything OK?” he asked.

  “It’s heavenly!!! How’d you do this?”

  “Apparently, your fairy godmother came in the night!” he joked. “Take your time getting up. We don’t have anywhere we need to be real soon.”

  “What about work?” Tina asked, knowing her father had always been a workaholic. He liked the adrenaline rush of being on the police force, out on the street where the action was.

  “They don’t need me today. Besides, it’s a desk job. Right now, it’s covered. How soon are you ready for breakfast?”

 

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