by Ronda Pauley
“Your mother, my daughter, remains missing. Because of her call to you and the follow-up we were able to do, we know that she is alive. Thank God! We picked up the location from her Smart Shoes. Revealing myself to you now is a matter of strong maternal instinct. I must protect my daughter. We still believe you will help us rescue her. We believe you are the best person for this assignment because of both your unusual skill set, your size, and who you are.”
“How dangerous is the mission?” Abbi asked, wanting to know but almost afraid to ask, knowing that it wouldn’t really matter.
“It’s the same drop, but the stakes have increased. Their demands are more stringent and you’ll have less security. On a scale of one to ten, maybe pushing ten if you were old and out of shape like I am. But you? Perhaps a two.”
“What if I can’t do it?” Abbi asked.
“No, no, no! This mission will be a success but only if they do not make the connection that you are your mother’s daughter. Revealing that would bring instant defeat. Perhaps abduction. You are aware that your mother’s code name is Miss Shoe. But did you know she chose it because she misses you when she is out on assignment.”
Abbi remembered countless times her mother would call and say, ‘I’m Miss Shoe’. Abbi thought it was just a mom-thing.
“Yeah, of course, after awhile I knew she wasn’t selling shoes.”
“Right. Very well, then. Miss Kowalski and Miss Soufflé, get yourselves to the International House of Spies, just a few blocks from here. You can walk it. Use your map. Continue to assume your temporary identities and stay in character throughout this assignment. In the packet I gave you are your character descriptions, unique to each of you. I trust you’ve studied them. You appear to be dressed appropriately and are wearing your nametags, just as directed. Good for you! As a reminder, you, Abeni, are Miss Kowalski. Love your hair! Almost didn’t recognize you. Miss Pelletier, you are Mademoiselle Soufflé. Stay in character as long as there are eyes that see and work that needs done.”
Mrs. Hightower held out her hand.
“Happy to see you again,” said Mademoiselle Soufflé with a smile.
“As you have probably guessed, I will remain Mrs. Hightower until either I marry or am out of harm’s way and can assume my rightful identity, whichever comes first. Safety is our prime concern. You won’t be assured of safety until you reach headquarters. You will use a password to get past the public part of the museum. When you get there, you may have to enter through a secret passage, so watch for it. The code is MISSING SHOE. You will be trained with access codes and be under constant surveillance. There will be food for you and you will stay there until further instructions. Oh, and I think you may even have time for a little fun. Did you bring your tools?”
“They’re in my bag,” Abbi said.
Mrs. Hightower looked behind them.
“Good. Your luggage is at the airport? I’ll ask Scott to retrieve it for you. We’re expecting a lot from you two, and it won’t be easy. The task at hand is dangerous. We know you won’t let us down. Some of the details of your involvement will be provided at the upstairs conference room in the House of Spies, our temporary headquarters. It isn’t without risks but when this mission is successful, you will be justly rewarded.”
Abbi and Louise looked at each other and Abbi felt a sudden chill.
Louise turned to Mrs. Hightower and asked, “Um, what’s my involvement in this?”
“Very similar to what you’ve been doing. Two sets of eyes are better than one. In this town, it’s not smart for a young lady to travel alone. The two of you will watch out for each other. As to your series of tasks to perform, Miss Kowalski, I don’t have all the details and some actions will be contingent on others, a kind of ‘if this, then that’ and ‘if not this, then this other task’. You’ll have to think on your feet. Watch for signs. Trust people on the inside only. Let your intuition be your guide. That’s all I can say.”
Mrs. Hightower led the girls to the door and gave them both hugs before showing them out.
“I think you can pass through security without a problem. Stay safe. You have my number should you need it. Your phone is equipped with GPS, the internet, a camera and will be multipurpose. Remember to keep it charged. One day, soon I pray, we’ll be together again. This is truly a brave thing the two of you are doing. You have my love. Always have, always will,” she said.
“Quick question. I have a draft with me, my mother’s report in progress, what she worked on most recently. You have not seen this one yet. I’ve studied it and it’s important. What do I do with it now?”
“Bless your sweet heart! I should have known you would find it. You are so like your mum. Allow me to make copies before you leave. Keep the originals. Always. Between us, we’ll make things happen.”
Mrs. Hightower summoned her aide.
“Can you still get into the copy room?”
“It’s not blocked yet,” the aide said.
“Then please quickly run a copy of each of the pages this lady gives you,” Mrs. Hightower said. “You must hurry before we get evacuated.”
Abbi looked at Mrs. Hightower questioningly and gave the file folders to the aide. Then she turned to Louise who shrugged. It was hard to let them go into stranger’s hands.
“I understand. Let’s follow. You’ll get them back sooner,” Mrs. Hightower said, apparently understanding the risk.
Mrs. Hightower started to open the door for them and stopped.
“Just one more thing, Miss Kowalski, Madamoiselle Soufflé—if this falls through, I don’t know you. You’ll be safer that way. Watch each other’s back. Not to alarm you, but someone really is out to get you!”
FORTY-FIVE
When Abbi and Louise left Mrs. Hightower and The House of the Americas, the investigators who had been examining the attempted bombing wanted the building evacuated and closed for the rest of the day. Big Sam appeared and ushered the girls out a back passage to help speed their departure.
“You will contact Gate Keeper when you arrive,” he said.
Louise quickly opened her briefcase to look at the city map and get their bearings.
Abbi looked at the sky. Sunshine battled with gathering clouds. The wind had picked up. If the weather took a turn for the worse, they could catch the Metro for a few blocks.
“I’d rather walk if that’s OK with you. How’s your blister?” Abbi wanted the freedom to run if needed, but not at the risk of her friend’s health.
“It’s a short walk. I can try,” Louise said.
The two girls started walking toward the International House of Spies.
While they walked, Abbi told Louise specific details from her mother’s unfinished report, additional information that revealed news articles and video clips concerning a teen street gang that had started in South America.
“This gang quickly moved into urban underprivileged areas of the United States that had dense populations of Latinos. Their purpose was, according to some, to gain support. In reality, they looked for children and young adults that fit a certain profile, people they could use in their horrible money-making scheme,” Abbi said.
“Kids who were at-risk,” Louise said, trying to understand.
“Yes, you could say that. Basically, they looked for those children seen as on the fringe—the runaways or troubled children, often abused or neglected in their own homes. Those were the ones who had little hope of a good future, the ones who suffered the most from food insecurity and neglect.”
“You’ve really studied this,” Louise said.
“Yes, but others didn’t fit the profile. These kids were drawn in because of the promise of adventure or, in some cases, an exciting new church.”
“Religion was a lure?”
“Yeah, that was the biggest thing, really. Some of the groomers led their victims to believe that this gang organized as a religious movement for a religious movement, as a break from the traditional Catholic Church. The gang, NM for Nu
estra Madre, would offer food, clothing, shelter, travel, religious training and even education. In short, they offered anything the disadvantaged kids needed—a promise of a better way of life.”
“So, I get it!” Louise said. “The group does a service for kids, kind of like child advocates.”
Abbi stopped for a moment. While she talked she had been cautiously looking around. That feeling of being followed was still there, ever-present. The reports she carried had to get to headquarters. She clutched the briefcase tighter, so tight her hand ached.
“Not really. That’s a romantic way of looking at it, Louise. It certainly does not tell the whole story but that’s enough for now. There is a very dark side to this group. Actually, the group that split off from the main group is the one they have to negotiate with. They call themselves NM2, and they are very dangerous.”
“OK. I keep hearing of them. So how is your mother involved?”
“From what I can piece together from her notes and things Mrs. Hightower has told me, Mom had thoroughly researched the groups and knew they split. She had had some encounters with some members of NM2 and someone had seen her from somewhere. Word gets around. She went to Mexico to rescue a nice American girl named Maria who fell for a guy she thought was becoming her boyfriend. They met at a mall, and became Facebook friends. But the rescue didn’t go smoothly, and now they’ve figured out who they caught. They figure she’s worth a LOT of money. So that’s what we’re dealing with.”
“How much is a lot?”
“I don’t know how much they want, but what scares me is that she knows a lot, and if they know that, they won’t want her to talk.”
“We have to do this, Abbi! The boyfriend. He was what they call a groomer. What’s that?”
“He would set girls up: flattery, gifts, promises of whatever he figured they wanted, whether it was education, food, travel, or in Maria’s case, a new and exciting church. Then he would use the Internet to sell girls to buyers. Mom’s report shows that he has an innocent-looking face. That’s mis-leading! Mom rescued Maria but then got caught and kidnapped, and my father was shot at the same time, trying to rescue her. He had surgery today, and he’s up here in a hospital somewhere.”
“We can call around and ask where he is.”
“Mrs. Hightower knows. She’s been to see him a couple of times. She tells me how he’s doing. He made it through surgery today. And I’m not sure about his assumed name. I think I heard it.”
“Don’t you want to see him?” Louise asked.
“Sure, I want to,” Abbi said sadly.
Abbi stopped there. While she talked she had been cautiously looking around.
“I’m working on that,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m taking you on this great vacation. What more do you want, Louise? Maple sugar candy?”
“Sure. You never buy me anything anymore,” Louise said with a laugh. Then she added more seriously. “I didn’t know your grandmother was black.”
“Now that you know, does it matter?” Abbi asked, raising her eyebrows.
“No, it’s just that I thought, since your mother’s fluent in Spanish and always looks tan, she was Hispanic!”
“Close but no cigar, little lady!” Abbi said in her best street carnival voice.
The two girls continued walking. Abbi became silent, watchful, knowing that in the hubbub of pedestrian travel on these busy sidewalks, someone kept their eyes on her and Louise.
Abbi looked up at gathering clouds, expecting rain, and took a moment for another look at map from her briefcase.
“I hate looking like a tourist,” Abbi said. “It sets us up for crime. Notice anyone watching?”
“No. But we’re not as close as I thought. Not to complain, but these shoes are hurting my feet,” Louise said.
They were getting near the Yellow Line. From the map, that looked like the best choice.
“OK. Let’s hop on. We could do a little micro-tour of D.C. from the Metro,” Abbi said. “It would save your feet.”
They boarded the Yellow Line north to take it to Gallery Place/Chinatown on their way to the International House of Spies.
“How do you know all this stuff?” Louise asked.
Abbi explained that she remembered things from when Nanny took her around Washington, D.C., a few years ago. For example, she had been in some of the buildings that they could see from the Metro.
“Besides, I have this map.”
“Not just that.”
Abbi shrugged.
“I read Mrs. Hightower’s packet!” she said. “And Mom’s notes and her report. And oh, the stuff I’ve had to swallow. Yeah, that too!”
“Other stuff. The things you know that no one told you.”
“Different ways of knowing,” Abbi said. “I don’t know but I’ll bet someone who has been following us gets on the Metro. Watch.”
“I didn’t know anyone was following us. That’s creepy,” Louise said with a shiver. She started watching more closely.
“I know! I never saw things so clearly until now!” Abbi said, as they used their passes. “Maybe hitting my head during that explosion did it.”
“If I’d known that, I could have hit you a long time ago,” Louise said with a nervous laugh. She reached for her phone.
“Who are you calling? You know, using a phone can make you look vulnerable, like you’re not really paying attention,” Abbi said, in a rush to beat their follower into the waiting Metro car. There were six cars to this train, but only one had its door open.
Louise put the phone away and said, “I’m trying to get Mom. Why won’t she text me?”
Abbi empathized with Louise and knew how important it was for Louise to hear her parents’ voices. Especially at a time like this. With one suicide bomber already in their midst today, how likely was it that they were the target?
“Maybe she’s in a meeting,” Abbi said, trying to be helpful. “Come on. Hurry!”
Abbi looked to see if anyone else picked up their pace. Someone was following them, but she had not yet seen the person. That in itself was enough to almost hit the panic button.
Finally seated, Abbi had the chance to see each person in the car. She decided to be obvious about it. She swiveled around in her seat to memorize people’s faces.
“I need your peepers,” she reminded Louise. “Whoever it is following us has to be on here now with us. This was the only car open. Memorize faces. We need to hold our enemy close.”
The fifteen minute Metro ride took them close to the International House of Spies. Louise soon grew tired of looking at the group and started pointing out sites on the way. “You know you’re looking like a tourist again,” Abbi said flatly, still studying the people in the car, some seated, some standing and blocking her view.
“You said mini-tour.”
“I didn’t say to look like a tourist, though.”
Only one person seemed to stand out, but it could be anyone. She reached deep inside to get a feeling. Specifically, she needed to know if she was in danger. The easiest way to do that was to close her eyes and get into a trance-like state.
“I need your eyes, Louise. Watch the frumpy-looking man.”
“Are you profiling?”
“No. He’s keeping an eye on us. Maybe he’s not the only one. Give me a minute here.”
Abbi pulled deep inside. Breathe in, breathe out, slowly, slowly, repeat. Suddenly, Abbi remembered the cryptic message from Gate Keeper: I only have eyes for you. I will be seeing you.
That’s it, she thought. She opened her eyes, turned and looked at the disheveled man. Then she winked at him. He smiled.
“You can walk from here?” Abbi asked Louise. Abbi wanted to get off the Metro at the last moment. Quickly before the man had a chance to catch up with them. She nodded to get Louise’s OK.
Louise looked at the people riding with them. Suddenly, she rubbed her left earlobe and nodded. The look of concern was worth it.
“J and R,” Abbi said. Their old
jump and run trick. They successfully left the man behind.
Just before the metro took off again, Abbi waved at the frumpy man.
Signs of Chinatown were all around, and Louise could not help pointing to the oriental designs on signs and exotic architecture of the buildings as they hurried past.
“You’re still looking all wide-eyed!” Abbi said, looking around to see if anyone else followed them.
Fully aware of the seriousness of their mission, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention. A half block away from the museum, Abbi slowed her pace. She relied fully on Louise now for her well-being. Not a safe thing to do. Suddenly she regretted leaving Lowell in the dust.
“Thank you,” Louise said, panting loudly. “My feet and my legs all ache, but we lost him!”
When they came to a corner drugstore, Louise asked to stop for something to drink. They went inside and took a few minutes to find some food, anything. Louise settled on a candy bar and soft drink. Abbi bought nuts and water.
When they walked out, Louise started toward a corner trashcan to dispose of her candy bar wrapper. She stopped and barely avoided pointing to the same frumpy-looking man rummaging through the trash can as if he hadn’t eaten in awhile, as if hoping to find his next meal wrapped up and waiting for him. His back was toward them.
Louise lowered her hand, backed away, and stuck her wrapper in her pocket. Then she reached for her phone and speed-dialed. Abbi followed when Louise stepped back into the drugstore. She went toward the back and began talking to Lowell.
Abbi followed her inside but waited at the window, looking out, taking in the man’s full shabby look. How did he get off the Metro? He looked up, on the phone, as his soft brown eyes met her green ones. Those weren’t the eyes of a hungry man. The eyes held knowledge. Recognition. But something more. Abbi grinned.
Abbi could hear Louise. She was talking much louder than she should have been. The drugstore clerk looked alarmed.
“Lowell, we’re being followed. We’re in the drugstore at the corner of 16th and Wilson and a man is waiting outside, pretending to be searching through garbage. I don’t think he’ll come in, but I’m scared.”