Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

by Ronda Pauley

  Immediately her father stood up to follow her but was detained by the doctor. Before the door closed behind her, Tina heard part of their conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Feldman said. “Bring her back. We didn’t finish the examination.”

  “Let’s do it another time,” Officer Benson said, and stepped outside.

  “Wait!” the doctor called at the door. In spite of other people in the lobby, he yelled from the door, “I think she’s sick, very sick. I suspect hepatitis, but I need to do a test.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Tina’s father said and rushed out in search of his daughter.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “That’s just a code name that the FBI uses,” the driver said. “Don’t you ladies worry. You’re in good hands.”

  Big Sam opened the door to get in.

  Louise and Abbi put on their badges. While they fastened their seat belts, Louise leaned over and said, “The driver’s kinda cute.”

  Abbi wondered if he was also an intern, like Lowell. Maybe they knew each other. “Yeah, but can he drive?” she asked.

  As soon as they reached the highway, she found out he liked to drive fast.

  “Hold on, Cowboy,” Big Sam said. “Let’s not meet the local PD until we get to the station.”

  The briefing room of the law enforcement complex had one long table where a few key parties sat. Big Sam indicated chairs in the audience for the girls.

  As soon as people were gathered, coffee in hand, introductions were made. Big Sam seated himself at the table.

  Big Sam thanked everyone for coming and thanked the people of the law complex for making their facility available. Then he began the introductions.

  The woman who sat at the table beside him was introduced as Ann Sobori, an FBI special agent specializing in Central American affairs. The agent, a pretty woman probably in her twenties, previously worked closely as an analyst with Mrs. Hightower, she said, and served as interpreter in negotiations when necessary. Agent Sobori explained that Mrs. Hightower would not be there, that she was personally involved in establishing negotiations with Miss Shoe’s abductors.

  A U.S. Attorney from the Attorney General’s office was seated at the table. He gave his name and explained that he would remain available for legal consultation.

  Big Sam did not introduce himself. Abbi wondered at that. He introduced the girls by the names on their badges and explained that Abbi would be assisting the operation as a highly skilled rappeler for any eventual drop.

  Then he invited others who had gathered in the room to tell their names, positions, and why they were there. The group included officers of the Virginia State Police and members of local police and sheriff’s departments, an ICE agent, and a CIA agent. A service coalition was represented by three women of different organizations and one of the women explained that they would lend assistance with rehabilitation after the rescue.

  Special Agent Sobori then stood and addressed the group.

  “I’m glad you could all come. Has everyone around the table heard of NM2? It broke off from NM a few years ago and went in a different direction, dealing largely in drug and prostitution rings. Big money. They seem to want Agent Shoe for their faction in Brazil. There’s a market there for clean, professional-looking American women. Miss Shoe fits that bill to a T and would bring top dollar at a sale to a private buyer. If they can keep her drugged up, she won’t talk. Besides, the Portuguese language is not in her profile.”

  Hearing her mother talked about in this way came as a shock to Abbi. She suddenly felt sick, but she’d rather upchuck right there on the spot than to miss what Special Agent Sobori was saying.

  “We’re getting the Mexican ambassador involved in this case. He will be here for a meeting this evening. I want you all present. It’s imperative that we get Miss Shoe out of Mexico before any transaction takes place. I can’t express how expedient we need to be. I met with the ambassador at early o’clock this morning.”

  A chuckle came from every part of the room.

  “What we were hoping to do was another surgical procedure, an extraction, similar to what we did with the young lady we took out of the cantina. Some of you are familiar with that sting.”

  There were nods around the table.

  “Unfortunately, we have lost the use of that agent. He was seriously wounded at the border when Miss Shoe was taken captive. He is no longer available.”

  “You’re talking about Mr. Schumann?” Big Sam asked, and cast a discreet glance toward Abbi.

  “That is correct, sir. His condition remains critical.”

  At this point, Abbi could not hold back. Mr. Schumann had to be a code name for her father. She quickly put her head down, her tears flowing, as she tried hard to keep her shoulders from shaking. Louise reached over and patted her knee.

  “Go on,” Big Sam said. “How do we proceed then?”

  “NM2 is transnational as you know, sir. Besides having their networks in Brazil, San Salvador, Colombia and Mexico, they have infiltrated the United States with active units in California, Texas, and the broader Washington, D.C., area. Yes, including Maryland and Virginia. They are well-connected and highly sophisticated.”

  People around the room nodded their understanding.

  “In layman’s terms, they have a bigger budget than the FBI.”

  There was nervous laughter.

  “OK. Maybe not entirely true, but they have plenty of money on hand. We are making plans for a covert operation. This needs to be held under tight wraps. Operation Shoe Drop begins today. We think we can fool them into a ransom deal, and our offer, we believe, will exceed a wealthy Brazilian businessman’s offer.”

  “May I remind you the President doesn’t like ransom deals?” someone asked.

  “We’re aware of that and in constant communication, I assure you. Remember some of his other involvements.”

  “So how much are you offering?” the same man asked.

  “Probably millions. They won’t see that much, but that’s what we’re talking. I’m getting a little ahead of myself but Operation Shoe Drop will be a sting operation. It requires the utmost cooperation and secrecy from everyone around this room as well as from key people in the Mexican government.”

  “Why are they involved?”

  “First we have to convince NM2 to bring our agent across the border. The logistics of getting her here won’t be easy. They’re not going to want to give her up. For one thing, they already know they can make a bundle off her in Brazil. For another thing, if they return her, they know she’ll talk. We’ll try to keep it civil to keep her safe. We’ll need our best negotiators to pull this off. Our plan is that the ransom drop will be right here in the Jefferson National Forest. ASAP. Today, tomorrow, the next day, who knows? That means everyone in this room needs to be on call. Forget about any plans you may have made for the next few days. We need you here.”

  “What do you mean ‘on call’?” a police officer asked.

  “Those of you who work local departments can return to your jobs. But closely monitor Operation Shoe Drop. For the rest of you, and you FEDS, we have lodging set up at Cave Spring. Go hang out there if you want but it’s not fancy. I suggest you stay close and keep a low profile. You can put on your hiking gear or whatever you guys wear, complete with bullet-proof vests, anytime. I’m providing topographic maps of the specific area where we’re setting up the drop but, unless you’re involved in that drop, don’t go there yet. Wait until you’re called. Let’s not muddy the water.”

  She passed the maps around the table.

  “Why here?”

  “This is central for us. They’ve got money. Let them pay the travel cost. Besides, some of the members of NM2 know this area well. This is what they call the Killing Forest. It’s their dumping ground.”

  There was some uneasy shuffling around the room.

  At this point Big Sam stood up.

  “This may not be a pretty operation. Some of you may get
hurt. Watch each other’s backs out there. We know we can’t break NM2, but we can put a hole in their operation. They’ll find out they won’t mess with us again without getting their asses kicked.” Big Sam pounded his fist on the table.

  Glasses of water spilled.

  Big Sam continued, “Be smart. Let’s do this without any of our people getting hurt. At 1800 hours we’re doing a basic runthrough here at the law complex. I want everyone, you local people too, to participate in the scenario. You’re all part of the rescue/restore coalition. You can do some target practicing later.”

  Abbi’s tears had dried by now and she saw the significance, as well as the danger, of her role in this sting operation. She held Louise’s hand and gave a little squeeze. Louise squeezed back.

  Then Abbi looked at Big Sam who gave no indication of emotion as he sat down. Funny that Big Sam never introduced himself but everyone at the table seemed to know him already.

  Miss Sobori stood up again. “You’re all free to leave now but, before you do, check at the door to see that I have everyone’s contact information. I cannot stress enough how important it is that you monitor your systems. When the time comes, I need to be able to reach you.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Big Sam stayed at the law complex, but he sent his driver to take the girls to the hotel. As they approached, Abbi wondered about the cheap-looking place, long forgotten by the mainstream of travelors after routes 419 and 221 were constructed, fast new highways that allowed people to bypass Cave Spring. The hotel had declined over the years and appeared to be the no-tell hotel variety that rents by the hour, where you try not to wonder if the sheets have been changed or how many people might check into the room on a busy day.

  When they arrived at their first-floor room, accessible straight from the parking lot, the driver put Abbi’s luggage on the rack, saying it should stay off the floor. He hung her rappelling bag on a hook. Then he checked the room for peepholes and wire-tapping.

  “You’re very thorough,” Abbi said to him.

  “It’s my job,” he said. “Big Sam’s orders.”

  He returned to the SUV to get Louise’s luggage and started to set it on top of the low dresser but there wasn’t room. It was obvious that Louise wanted his attention when she made a dramatic entrance and moved the phone, coffee maker and hotel literature to the side to make room for her bags. Then Louise posed against the dresser, hiked up her knee and gave the driver a wide open smile.

  The driver, who was maybe Lowell’s age or a little older, appeared nervous at Louise’s attempt to be friendly.

  “I’ll be nearby if you need me.” He showed Abbi how to beep him on her federally registered phone.

  “That’s good to know,” Abbi said, and then added, “There’s something a little creepy about this place. Frankly, I was feeling insecure here.”

  “Relax. I’ll keep you covered,” he said. “My name’s Scott.”

  “Thanks, Scott. I guess we’re Miss Kowalski and Mademoiselle Soufflé.”

  “You guess,” he said with a laugh. “OK.”

  “Call me Louise! Don’t I need your number?”

  Abbi shook her head at Louise. When the driver closed the door, Abbi watched through the curtain as he went back to the SUV, where he sat in a position to keep a watchful eye on their room.

  “He can keep me covered, if he wants to,” Louise said. Then she looked around at the shabby room. “Then it wouldn’t be so creepy in here.”

  “I think he’s got work on his mind,” Abbi said, sensing that the driver had to know this was a dangerous mission. Still, danger or no danger, the growling in her stomach told her it was time to put some food in there.

  “I’m exhausted,” Louise said. “But I don’t want to touch anything, not the bed—nothing! This place, ugh!” Her normal penchant for drama was kicking in again.

  “Let’s get out of these wigs and things and go for a short hike before it rains,” Abbi said.

  “Let’s not,” Louise said.

  “You would if the driver went, too,” Abbi said. “I’m hungry and I need to unwind. I felt like I could scream during the briefing.”

  “I thought so. That wasn’t easy to listen to,” Louise said, “especially since you couldn’t say, ‘That’s my mom you’re talking about!’ and your dad, too, I’m guessing. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I would have told you.”

  “Would you? Really? Today is the first day I really felt that people were telling the truth. Even Mrs. Hightower had kept things back.”

  “I never ever tried to hurt you,” Louise said.

  “I know. I’m going out,” Abbi said. “I hate this waiting and I’m starved. There has to be something to eat around here.”

  “You can’t leave without me. Want a candy bar?” Louise asked, sitting in a wooden chair and resting her head on her arms. “Or chips?”

  “I want real food! And you’ll feel better if you eat too. You eat too much junk.”

  “OK,” Louise said. “You’ve twisted my arm.” She went outside with her wig still on. Abbi followed, but first she placed the blonde wig carefully in her luggage and then loosened her hair.

  “Scott, have you eaten?” Louise asked.

  “No. I’m just here for the ride.”

  “We’re hungry, Scott. Can we grab some food somewhere?” Abbi asked.

  “If you don’t mind having me tag along,” Scott said. “I can drive you wherever you want to go within a 5-mile radius.”

  “We don’t mind!” Louise said a little too eagerly.

  Abbi laughed and checked food locations on her phone.

  “There’s a pizza place and a sandwich shop at Tanglewood Mall near 581,” she said. “Maybe three miles away?”

  “I suggest getting take-out,” Scott said. “Decide what you want and I’ll take you there.”

  “Good. Can we eat in this buggy? Then maybe take a hike?” Abbi asked.

  Louise said, “Are you telling the driver to take a hike, as in, get away from us?”

  Abbi looked at her sideways and didn’t answer.

  Scott laughed.

  “Damn it! I am a bundle of nervous energy. I just want to get this operation over with!” Abbi said. “And this place is disturbing, not relaxing at all.”

  “It’s not the Hilton,” Scott said. “We’re on call, so as long as you stay close, I’ll follow you.”

  Louise gave him her big open smile again. Abbi rolled her eyes at Louise.

  “You’re looking desperate,” she mouthed silently to Louise.

  Then Abbi noticed a car approaching. “Scott, look at the man inside that car. He looks like trouble.”

  “Relax,” Scott said. “It’s good to be alert, but not every Latino you see is a criminal or a gang member. Just be cool. Hop in and we’ll get that food you wanted. Did you lock your room?”

  Abbi said, “Not sure.”

  Still in her dress clothes and running shoes, Abbi returned to the room to get her handbag and lock. As she left her room, she passed the man who by now had parked his car not far from Scott’s and also faced their room. The window was down and the man was talking on the phone in Spanish with his elbow propped at the open window.

  Something caught Abbi’s eye, and a chill ran through her body. She tried not to stare but there it was.

  The back of his left hand had a very ornate tattooed M!

  TWENTY-NINE

  Officer Benson stepped out on the sidewalk but saw no sign of his only daughter.

  Frantically, he scanned the nearest intersection to find her.

  “Maria!” he called.

  “Daddy, you can’t call me that. Remember?” she said quietly, appearing from beside the building.

  “What just happened back there?” her father asked.

  “The doctor disrespected me. I won’t talk to him,” she said firmly.

  “You’ve got to talk to somebody!” he said. “You’re gonna have to get checked out. His guess is hepatitis. That’s serious, baby.”


  “I’ll talk to Mrs. Hightower.”

  “She’s not a doctor.”

  “Then there’s got to be another doctor.”

  “What about the nurse practitioner back there?”

  “She asked too many questions.”

  “Look, Kiddo, if they’re going to get answers, they have to ask the questions.”

  “I’ll talk to Mrs. Hightower.”

  “I’ll see if that’s possible. In the meantime, you have to get a physical exam. If I ask the nurse practitioner to just examine you, no questions, are you OK with that?”

  Tina thought for a moment. This would allow her to get medicine. She already knew she was sick with coughing and a tingly all-over fatigue, and she felt like it was getting worse.

  “If she’ll promise she won’t ask questions, I’ll do it,” Tina said, looking her father square in the face.

  “Come with me. I’ll ask.”

  While her father negotiated with the nurse practitioner, Tina sat and tried to listen in. Her father mentioned the word trauma and the nurse nodded.

  Tina wondered how much the NP would have to touch and probe her. When the woman mentioned getting some blood tests, Tina almost protested. She looked up at her father, questioning.

  “It has to be done. It’s the only way to get you better,” he said to her.

  The nurse practitioner nodded and motioned for Tina with a smile but without speaking. Tina went obediently with her and glanced back only briefly at her father, as if she might bolt.

  “I’m Teresa. Do you think you can pee in a cup for me?” the nurse practitioner asked before they reached the examination room.

  No questions, Tina thought. OK, this one’s safe. Whether she actually could, she didn’t know.

  Tina took the cup and tried, through her nervousness, to produce a urine sample. At least she was in the privacy of a restroom. She turned on the water and that seemed to help. She washed her pubic region before and afterwards, according to instructions on a little HOW-TO sign.