Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

by Ronda Pauley

  “But first, before he took her there, he drugged her and posted pictures and a video of her on the Internet. She was for sale. All of a sudden, this went from a state crime to a Federal Crime and then to an International crime.”

  Miss Sobori paused.

  “In order to make a better sale, he beat this bright, beautiful girl in a savage sexual assault for the video, which he posted on a shared file website that is known in the underground for its child pornography. Low and behold, within days he had a buyer, a casino owner named Ramon who is also an active member of NM2. The young lady was not only taken across the border on false pretences, but she was also drugged, branded, and offered again for sale on websites. She is fourteen years old.”

  All eyes were on Miss Sobori as she took a paper from her briefcase.

  “This is a drawing of the brand she still wears today, just days after her rescue. Against her knowledge and will, she became a sex slave. Then, her ‘boyfriend’ went on to groom others and is getting rich off this extremely cruel exploitation of girls and young women. How many he has groomed and sold by now, we don’t know.”

  Abbi recognized the drawing as one she copied and had given to Mrs. Hightower. Miss Sobori’s testimony gave information that was new to Abbi and added a horrible dimension to the tattoo’s meaning. Wide-eyed, she turned and looked at Louise who appeared dumb-founded.

  The ambassador’s mouth had dropped open. Several guttural sounds and inaudible words were heard around the room.

  “I know. It is disgusting. Immediately, when the report came through, a task force was formed working with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children,” Miss Sobori continued. “Under the guidelines of Project Childhood Safety, and with the rapid coordination of the Mexican Government, the Passport office, Border Patrol, the CIA and the Texas P.D., and others, the FBI was able to successfully extract the young lady from that cantina. By that time nearly two months had passed, and the young lady has experienced untold emotional and physical damage. She is now safely restored to her family and is relocated through the federal Witness Protection Program. She is currently receiving services from non-profit rescue/restore agencies similar to the coalition here in Virginia. The way to treat these victims is not to throw them in jail but to get vital services to them so that they can someday be whole again.”

  Several people smiled.

  Miss Sobori continued, “That brings me to today’s focus. During that operation, our FBI Special Agent known as Miss Shoe was abducted and her husband, also working undercover, yes literally, was severely wounded. It is imperative that everyone here realizes the severity of this operation. If we do not achieve the successful rescue of Miss Shoe, we have reason to believe NM2 has a wealthy buyer in Brazil. We can’t let them make that transaction.”

  Big Sam stood up.

  “Miss Sobori is absolutely on target with this. Our focus is not to take on the entire operation of Nuestra Madre. They are part and parcel to the Central American economy. But NM2 is an entirely different story, with a focus that is bringing harm to children in America’s cities, small towns, rural areas, wherever they can find a vulnerable child, and don’t think they just concentrate on runaways. The young lady Miss Sobori discussed was certainly no runaway. The next victim could be your child, your niece, your nephew.”

  There was uneasy shuffling in seats.

  “Thank you, Miss Sobori! And that brings us to the workings of Operation Shoe Drop. Negotiations are going on at this moment, so Miss Sobori, you are excused to tend to those talks,” he said.

  Miss Sobori left the room as those gathered around the table stood, clapped and wished the negotiations team much success.

  “Mr. Ambassador,” Abbi said when the applause for Miss Sobori died down, “Please work to improve the lives of the children caught in human trafficking.”

  The ambassador looked surprised.

  “I most certainly will,” he said. “And I wish you much success with Operation Shoe Drop.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” Big Sam said.

  Big Sam wrapped up the main portion of the meeting by saying, “I believe the information you just heard gives everyone at this table a pretty clear picture of the situation and why it is of the utmost importance to move quickly and cautiously. The drop location isn’t called the Killing Forest for no reason. Don’t discuss this with anyone, and cover your backs. The rest of this meeting will be with the drop and rescue teams only.”

  Several people started gathering their things to leave.

  Big Sam continued, “Those of you who will be on the ground for the rescue, please move to Room B. You know who you are. Those of you for the drop, stay here in this room. The rest of you are free to go home to your families or return to your jobs. Continue to monitor for updates. A rescue may take place tonight, tomorrow, or sometime in the very near future. That is all.”

  Louise started to get up and go into the hallway where the driver was standing, waiting. Big Sam shook his head.

  “Do I go or do I stay?” Louise asked.

  “You assist Miss Kowalski at all times.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Do you feel like walking?” Tina’s father asked. “I’d like to get this prescription filled.”

  Tina thought about where they were and where their apartment was.

  “I think I know a shortcut,” Tina said. She coughed. “Mrs. Hightower and I took it. There’s an alley we can take to the next street.”

  Tina felt proud of herself for being able to remember the local cityscape well enough to get from one place to another.

  “We’re also supposed to go to counseling today. Let’s work that in. OK?”

  “Can I start the medicine and rest first? I am so tired,” Tina said. “Besides, if I could, I’d rather talk to Mrs. Hightower.”

  “We’ll see, but the sooner you get real counseling, the better,” her father said. “Mrs. Hightower is a very busy woman and has to come from Washington. I can’t take a lot of time off work to get that arranged.”

  “I know, Daddy. You don’t have to. I think I could just sleep for the rest of the week and be fine.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  During a ten-minute break, Abbi saw Louise’s longing glance toward the hallway. She walked out with Louise where they saw Scott. Big Sam followed them.

  “OK, kids. The game is about to start. Mrs. Hightower is on her way.”

  Scott moved toward them and said, “Sam, before she arrives, we need to talk about what just happened back at the hotel.”

  He took Sam aside and spoke in hushed tones. Abbi tried unsuccessfully to hear. It became obvious that she and Louise had not been invited to be part of this conversation.

  “It must have been serious,” she said to Louise, rolling her eyes.

  “At least Scott’s safe,” Louise said.

  “Let’s get some coffee while they’re talking. I’m sure we’ll be told on an as-needed basis, like always.”

  The coffee pot had been placed conveniently in the hallway outside of the conference room and Abbi and Louise helped themselves. Remnants of the doughnuts from earlier in the day were still boxed up on the table. Louise helped herself to a couple of them.

  Abbi raised her eyebrows.

  “So? I have to keep my energy up. We may be here all night!”

  “Who’s going to be here all night?” a familiar voice asked.

  Abbi swung around to see Mrs. Hightower. She immediately gave Abbi a hug. Then quietly she whispered in Abbi’s ear, “Thanks for your mum’s papers. You’ve managed to open some doors. Her work has become the crux of our plan.”

  “Then you read it!” Abbi said, glad that Mrs. Hightower hadn’t just handed it to Miss Sobori for analysis. She hugged Mrs. Hightower again. Waves of memories came over her as the woman she knew as Nanny Fanny returned the hug and then gently pushed her away.

  “Of course, Sugarlump,” Mrs. Hightower said, still whispering. “Your mother’s findings support what
Aristotle said so long ago: Poverty is the parent of revolution and crime.”

  “So the people in Central America who started Nuestra Madre were poor?” Abbi asked.

  “Very. Sometimes people in need turn to greed, but there are no easy answers. As for your mission, we’re both a little too close to this situation for comfort,” Mrs. Hightower said. “As a descendent of slavery, it pains me in more ways than one, especially when it includes the exploitation of children for financial gain. But, enough of that. We may not change the world, but we might improve it one piece at a time.”

  Mrs. Hightower looked down the hall.

  “I wonder if there is a place where we might talk, while Big Sam briefs the rest of the team on our plan. Let me see.”

  Mrs. Hightower walked away from the coffee and doughnuts and asked someone about an available room for a quick talk.

  Louise had wandered over to Scott who was about to enter the conference room.

  “I suppose we’ll be alright without Louise. She’s in good hands and might benefit from listening in to the meeting. I found a room where you and I might talk for a minute before we join the group. Come with me.”

  Abbi followed Mrs. Hightower through the hallway to a small office. Mrs. Hightower’s aide was with her but then left them. Abbi and Mrs. Hightower seated themselves comfortably in two padded leather office chairs and faced each other.

  “If what I hear is true, you’re just as good as your parents at getting into tight places with a zipline. You like doing it, don’t you?”

  Abbi nodded. Her heart began to race and she said, “Very much. I’ve missed you and our adventures.” Then she whispered, “I want you back in my life. What do you know about my father?”

  “I miss the family adventures too. It’s been hard,” Mrs. Hightower said, turning to brush away a tear. “And your father? Still in critical condition. I never cry. Look at me. I’m getting too old for this work! But I figure this is my last mission, and it’s a deeply emotional one.”

  Her aide brought a large expandable envelope and a shopping bag into the small office and set them on the table.

  “Mrs. Hightower, here is all that you requested,” the aide said. “Do you also need the kit with the handheld?”

  “I believe so.”

  Then Mrs. Hightower handed the envelope to Abbi and asked her to examine the contents of the envelope: a pair of gloves, a small notepad that showed waypoints for geocaching, a pencil, a rangefinder, some energy bars, water bottle, and a small wrapped package.

  “There’s even some super duper X-ray spray!” Abbi said.

  “It sort of works. Try it out on the packet,” Mrs. Hightower said as Abbi was putting things back. “It can come in handy.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Abbi said as she sprayed and then could actually read the name on the energy bars that were inside the packet. She laughed. “Awesome!”

  “I sent my aide out to get some clothes for you too, just in case you couldn’t go back to that hotel tonight. It appears our secluded hotel is a popular hang-out for some of the NM2 members here in Virginia. When things quiet down, I’ll send someone for your rappelling gear and other things.”

  “Thanks,” Abbi said.

  “We need you to do this drop. You have several advantages over the paid staff. For one thing, you’re small. For another thing, the enemy will not see you as a threat to them—at least that’s our thinking. Unfortunately, they may see you as a potential victim. You have shown yourself to be cool, calm, collected. When you add it all up, you have the best chance of securing your mother’s release. And, if necessary, you can run fast. As I said before, you not only have the most to lose, you also have the most to gain. And you seem to have a gift, a certain ability that gives you uncanny knowledge. Not many older people can see what you see. If we were born with that ability, we seem to lose it as we age.”

  Abbi let this sink in. That seemed likely.

  Mrs. Hightower then laughed and said, “Besides, you come cheap and don’t eat much.”

  With nervous hesitation, Abbi laughed too.

  “OK!” she said. “You speak the truth!”

  The aide returned with a blue nylon bag.

  “You remember how to do geocaching?”

  Abbi remembered. Those had been good times.

  “My parents and I used to do it a lot! You know. You were there! You did it with us a few times. One of us would hide something. Then the rest of us were given GPS handhelds and a list of waypoints. The person who found the cache, the prize, was the winner! It was usually candy bars and stuff like that but once I found a necklace.”

  “A pearl in a gold cage. It was your fourteenth birthday, and you were going geocaching. I knew you would be the one to find it.”

  “YOU did that? You weren’t there! That was after you left us.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten you,” Mrs. Hightower said, and then she pulled a small gadget out of the blue nylon bag. She pushed a button and the screen lit up with a numeric reading. “Do you know what this is?”

  The question was more to prove that Abbi was right for the job.

  “It’s a GPS handheld device, the global positioning system, showing this location given in longitude and latitude, I believe.”

  “Very well,” Mrs. Hightower said. She clicked a button. “Look again.”

  “It’s metric,” Abbi said on further analysis.

  “Do you know your pace count?”

  “Eighty-five, the last I checked.”

  “You’ll have to do the numerical conversion. Eighty-five feet. You’ve grown but that’s about what I calculated,” her grandmother said.

  “It should be close,” Abbi said.

  “It has to be precisely that for this mission. We want you to move deep into a wooded area on a zipline we have installed. From there you will use this list of points to locate a hollow rock. Take your rappelling gear, at least the harness, figure 8’s, carabiner, and a prusik. Oh, an ascender could be invaluable. Do you have one?”

  “Yes, I just at the last minute threw one in.”

  “Good thinking! That’s a lot to carry for anyone. Stash what you can at the large culvert. We’ll pick it up later if we have to. As you know, you can zip down, but it’s hard as hell to pull yourself back up a sharp incline, especially if you’re carrying unnecessary weight.”

  She pointed it out on the topographic map, showing the tight wavy lines that indicated the steep and rugged mountainside.

  Although Mrs. Hightower didn’t look like a person who played with ropes, Abbi knew she had had an active background that made her a valuable source of knowledge. She removed the notebook from the blue GPS bag and pointed out the list of numbers.

  “This shows a series of waypoints and their landmarks for where you’re going. Pace your steps to each waypoint and write it down. At your destination, you will find a hollow rock. Turn the rock over and find the hole in the back. Inside the hollow rock you will place this small package.”

  She pulled out a bundle wrapped in brown paper.

  “This package contains, among other things, a piece of paper that will inform their negotiating team about the time and place for our next meeting with them. Hopefully, the location will meet with their approval and they will take your mother there today. They will be watching you as will we. Get in and out quickly. Don’t linger or wander off your course. We won’t lose track of you, but there are still risks involved. If anything goes wrong, do not let them know who you really are. Use the identity I gave you. Do you believe that you are capable and willing to do this?”

  Abbi breathed in deeply. Her heart was racing. What if she got caught? What if…? She didn’t dare ask. She knew she could end up in the back of a cantina. Better to focus on positive things.

  “Yes,” Abbi said.

  “One more thing. We think they have a hothead in their group. If he suspects foul play, he has a triggering device and a mean side.”

  Abbi’s body trembled and she f
elt a vision coming on. This one showed a man standing behind her mother.

  Mrs. Hightower watched as Abbi trembled and she said, “I know. I get these flashes too. We’ll get her back.”

  “How soon?” Abbi asked.

  “As soon as they can get her here. We’ll try to do the drop today.”

  Abbi looked at her clothes, anxious to start, but she still had on the nice layered blue suit Louise had picked for her.

  “I can’t go like this,” she protested.

  “Teenage girls, they always need something!” Mrs. Hightower said with a wink to her aide.

  Mrs. Hightower handed the shopping bag to Abbi.

  “Here. What are the chances this will fit you? I looked at you the other day and figured you for about a size 7 but Miss Sobori said 5. Was I close?”

  Abbi pulled out a one-piece leotard, a kind of catsuit.

  “This should work,” Abbi asked. “I’ll feel like a Ninja.”

  “That’s exactly the point. Put it on under your suit before you leave this building. Then you’ll be ready if we go ahead with the drop tonight. You’ll be glad to have it where you’re going.”

  “Where am I going—the Killing Forest?”

  “That sounds dreadful, I know. Your driver and Big Sam will take you there. On your trek there will be some brushy places. If you can go through them, do, to stick to your pace count. If you must go around them, then make the adjustments. After you get through some tight places, if you were accurate on your count, you will come to a zipline. When you get to it, strip down to the leotard. Ride the zipline, stay on the route, and make your drop. There’s a hollow rock for that purpose. Then, on your return trip, once you’re successfully off the zipline and past the culvert, put your clothes back on. By the way, remember to use the notepad and pencil to write down your pacing to various locations. Don’t get lost. That forest is huge and hilly. Even with GPS, you can lose your bearings. Above all, stay safe and adhere to the time frame. The zipline was installed just for this purpose but, as with all things mechanical, things can go wrong. Can you handle this mission?”