by Ronda Pauley
“Hang tight. I can be there in five minutes,” Lowell said. “Just keep talking to me so I’ll know everything’s OK. Tell me what the man looks like.”
Louise gave the description of the man, from his beard and misshapen hat to his baggy clothes down to his dingy brown shoes. She was disgusted with how he rummaged in the trash can on the street corner.
The clerk asked Louise if everything was OK while she held onto the phone.
“Yeah,” Louise said. “We just need to wait a few minutes for my brother. Mind if we stay inside?”
FORTY-SIX
When Tina arrived at the hospital, she was not sent to triage where she might have to wait hours. Instead, she was whisked immediately to an examination room. Her father showed paperwork of what the nurse practitioner had found so far and handed the little vial of medicine to the E.R. doctor who quickly agreed with the diagnoses and treatment plan.
“I’d like that office to fax us any additional lab findings. We may want to run another test. In the meantime, you can see there has been some liver damage. Sorry, little lady, but I’m guessing yellow is not your usual skin tone.”
“Am I going to die?” Tina asked.
“You’re getting quick treatment. And I can tell you’re pretty tough,” the doctor said. “We’ll get an I.V. set up to get fluids in you, and I think you’re going to start feeling a lot better. Then you won’t be so worried. When you feel this bad, it’s natural to be scared.”
By the time Tina had a private room, she had already slept some more, her fever had let up, and she had a visitor waiting for her.
Mrs. Hightower gave her a hug and then sat back down in the side chair.
“I hear you want to talk to me. Are you sure this is a good time?” she asked, looking at both Tina and her father.
“This is fine,” Tina said with a smile. “I didn’t think I was going to make it. Now I think I’m getting better.”
Mrs. Hightower looked at Tina’s father.
“You want me to stay?”
“I think so,” he said.
“Then I think I’ll need some time alone with Tina.”
Tina’s father seemed reluctant to leave them.
“Really. There will be some details that will become classified. The fewer ears right now, the better. It’s for your own good.”
After her father left the room, Tina thanked Mrs. Hightower for coming.
“I want Gopher arrested and put away,” Tina said emotionally. “And Ramon. He’s horrible.”
“Before we start, I need for you to be comfortable. I don’t want you getting too excited right now. We can just start with a few key details today. As you know, we want to get Miss Shoe out of Mexico. Is there anything you can tell me to help with that?”
“Yes, but there are also other young girls there. You need to get them out too!”
“Do you know their real names?”
“No.”
“Then that will take a little longer. We’ll need identities. Let’s get to that in a minute, if you’re up to it. Tell me about Ramon.”
“He’s the one that has Miss Shoe. Oh, unless he sold her. He’s horrible, nasty. So mean!”
“Why would he sell her?”
“He likes pretty young girls. Older women don’t stay there long.”
“Where do they go?”
“No one talks about it.”
“Give me an idea of Ramon’s daily schedule: when he eats, where he sleeps, who he talks to, anything about him you know. Does he go by another name?”
Tina did her best to fill in details.
“He didn’t sleep there, but he locked us in at 2 a.m. every night, and if we had to use the bathroom before he opened the next day, we had to use a pot in the room.”
“A pot?”
“There was only one bathroom for the rooms out back. We had a pot, like a bucket, and a wash basin in the room.”
“How many were in a room?”
“There were four in my room. We had mats on the floor. The rooms for customers were nice, really pretty, like in a fancy hotel. Those rooms were upstairs, not in back where we were.”
“How many times were you in those upstairs rooms?” Mrs. Hightower asked.
Tina’s hands shook and she started to cry. Mrs. Hightower had overstepped. Tina wasn’t ready to talk about those details. Mrs. Hightower backed off.
“Well, then, tell me more about Ramon,” she said.
“He did daily inspections. He wanted us to look real pretty. Thursday was gift day, so we had something new if he was happy with us. He would act nice to some girls, especially the princess, but he bullied girls if they got sick or made a customer mad. If a girl made him mad, she wouldn’t get anything on gift day. When he was really mad, we could hear him through the walls. He had this awful belt on his office wall. Sometimes, he’d stay over and take a girl upstairs for the night.”
Mrs. Hightower took notes and sent messages via her phone, asking for points of clarification only a few times.
Then Mrs. Hightower asked questions about Ramon’s specific actions toward Tina, how he ran his business including selling videos of her, the use of drugs with her, unusual actions such as the forced tattoos she had, and any repeat customers. Tina answered most of the questions, but did not know the names of all the drugs she was forced to take. There was meth at first. She was also forced to drink alcohol before he videotaped her. She didn’t remember much of that.
“Now, Tina, if you still feel like talking, tell me something else. We know you contacted Gopher on Facebook.”
“I thought I was dying. I wanted him to know that I was going to tell everything before I died!”
“Understandably. I’m not a doctor, but I think you’ll pull through this. Do you still want to tell all?”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of you! When you contacted the young man, you used your ‘Maria’ account. We didn’t think you would do that but, as it turns out, that’s good. We can work with this. But, of course, it would have been safer not to contact him at all. If we’re going to find Gopher, who likely still lives and operates in Texas, we will need your full cooperation.”
“OK.”
“Are you aware of anyone else, especially Americans, he sold to Ramon?”
“Another girl, they called her Cinnamon, knew Gopher. We didn’t know he was selling us, though. I don’t know her real name, but she was from Texas, too.”
“Was she American?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know her real age?”
“Maybe a year older than me. She was the princess.”
“Oh?”
“Special treatment.”
“Ramon liked her. She did favors for Ramon. Got special gifts. I don’t blame her. I couldn’t do it. I despised that man.”
“If we bring in a computer, can you keep up correspondence with Gopher? We want you to let him think you’re still in Texas. We’ll guide you in what to say. After a few messages back and forth, the FBI will take over your ‘Maria’ account and you are, after that, never ever to contact him again, not as Maria, not as Tina. Can you promise that?”
“Yes,” Tina said, feeling like a little kid with her lisp. “I promise.”
“Alright,” Mrs. Hightower said, “You’re very brave, Tina. The information you have provided will be useful. We’ll make it happen. I’ll see if we have an agent that might pass for you! I don’t know. You’re pretty small.”
“Back then, I weighed almost twenty pounds more!” Tina said.
“That will help. We’ll still probably add another twenty pounds with undercover, especially if we add a bullet-proof vest.”
“You would do that?”
“It’s pretty much protocol, the way we do things.”
Mrs. Hightower kissed Tina on the forehead. When she walked out, she added, “I’ll see you again soon. In the meantime, you work on getting better! You have your whole life ahead of you!”
Tina, knowing she
would be part of something important, finally relaxed.
FORTY-SEVEN
Louise wanted to wait inside the drugstore. Her eyes held fear and unasked questions. She finally let Lowell get off the phone.
“So, if you thought something was odd, why didn’t you rub your earlobe?” Abbi asked.
“I guess I just forgot.”
Abbi decided to give her the answers. Louise was obviously scared. She’d been a good sport, and there was no time to waste.
Louise kept her head down and looked out the window sideways at the man so that he wouldn’t see her face. Likewise, the man positioned himself so that he had a peripheral view of the girls if they walked out the door.
Dingy brown shoes, baggy pants. People can change clothes. His well-fed muscular build, however, was not successfully disguised by the shabby clothing. His hair looked shaggy and off-center, like a wig hastily placed. Faces are harder to change, although he sported a different nose, pretty real-looking, and had the shadow of a beard. His eyes, no masking them, but he pulled a hat down over them.
“What does he want?” Louise asked.
“Let’s just go out and ask him,” Abbi said.
“Are you crazy?”
“Crazy as a loon. Come on! It’ll be OK,” Abbi said. “Or wait inside.”
She winked at a clerk and then jerked the door open to yell at him.
“Hey, YOU! You’re following us. You want some of this?” Abbi held up her fists.
Two store clerks noticed and backed up, but the other one, the one that Abbi winked at, laughed and assured the others it would be alright.
The man kept digging in the trash, still looking sideways toward the door as if he didn’t hear.
He was actually texting: I TOLD U I’D B SEEING U. AND YES. I DO.
Then suddenly Lowell faced her directly with a smile before returning to the trash can. His smile!
GO TO HDQTRS. DON’T BLOW MY COVER, he texted.
Abbi stuck her head inside the drugstore and motioned for Louise to see the text.
“Lowell’s here,” Abbi said to Louise. “He arrived quickly as promised!”
“Where?”
HI, WEEZIE! Lowell said in a text. I’LL B CLOSE.
Lowell tried without success to hide his devilish grin, as he cautiously looked around and then put his hat down.
Louise texted back: NOT FUNNY!
Lowell texted: SORRY, WEEZY.
He looked straight at Abbi and revealed his flawless white teeth. Why did he have to look so good? Who thought up this disguise?
After that Lowell avoided eye contact. He continually watched his surroundings as he texted. Louise handed him a dollar. Abbi gave him change.
“Thanks, God bless you,” Lowell said.
Abbi and Louise hurried away. Abbi tried not to look back.
“That was just weird,” Louise said. “I could punch him in the face right now for what he put me through. And you knew!”
“I had a feeling, that’s all. I love the way he had to run to catch us when we left him in the subway. The museum should be just a block over this way. Right?” she asked Louise, indicating the direction she thought they should go. “We’d better get moving.”
They walked along slowly. Though Abbi had hoped to reach the museum before 3 p.m., she owed it to Louise to be gentle on her feet.
Before long, they saw a familiar face ahead of them. Lowell, looking fit and trim and surprisingly not out of breath, had somehow ditched the disguise and appeared as himself. He waited for them on down the street.
“How’d you…” Abbi started. Lowell had always done things like that.
“They gave me the job of being your bodyguard to see that you got here safely. I didn’t mean to scare you, Weezy.” He laughed.
“You ASS! I described your disguise to you!”
Lowell said, “Not to interrupt the fun, but I have to get you ladies to headquarters pronto. Things are in the works for a final attempt at a drop.”
“A final attempt?”
“Oh, and Calista texted. She’ll be joining us to interpret. HT wants her,” Lowell said. “And she wants to meet you, Abbi.”
“Calista?” Abbi asked.
“A girl I met on campus. Helps interpret for Red Cross. Figured she might be useful here.”
Only because you wanted her here, Abbi thought as she felt a twinge of jealousy. No, Abbi, don’t be petty. Of course he has girlfriends.
“How convenient for you!” Louise said to Lowell, still ready to punch his face in. “I know guys who speak Spanish.”
“Wait a minute, Lowell. How does she know about me?”
“I told her about your parents. Calista would like to work in D.C. Maybe this will be her ticket in.”
“She knows about my parents?”
“Sort of. She’d like to get into this kind of work.”
“YOU TOLD HER ABOUT MY PARENTS?”
“She asked. Calista and HT had been talking. She doesn’t have an internship, but maybe she’ll land something. She’s taking the money from her modeling jobs to move. Her parents say they’re getting a divorce. She just wants to get away from them if she can. Besides, she speaks Spanish fluently. So, Calista may be joining us later,” Lowell said.
Oh great, Abbi thought. She’s also a model.
“Will she be on payroll?” Abbi asked, suddenly very skeptical of someone new being brought in.
“Not yet but, like I said, she’s been talking with Mrs. Hightower.”
Abbi looked sideways at Lowell to read his face and wondered. She decided she’d be better off to change the topic.
“Your disguise. Whose idea was that?” Abbi asked. “That’s a pretty different look for you, not exactly GQ.”
“An improvement, I think!” Louise said.
Lowell smirked at his sister and said it was something Big Sam came up with. Now that they’d slammed him, Abbi decided to find out what he knew.
“The suicide bomber. Who did he work for?” Abbi asked.
“You didn’t hear it from me. NM, probably. Ever hear of them?”
“Yes, Lowell, but…”
“We’re close. From now on, you don’t even know my name. Call me Gate Keeper. Anyway, we’re waiting to see if NM claims responsibility. Of course, no one will since neither of their bombing attempts succeeded. I’ll see you at headquarters,” Lowell said. “I’ve got to get up there and prepare for one more person.”
“Mrs. Hightower approves?”
“Yeah, it was her idea! I think she must like her!”
He suddenly left them in a brisk walk.
Something felt wrong, very wrong. Abbi realized it might be better not to reveal what she suspected. There were people in positions to know, but she wondered if, like dogs barking up the wrong tree, the analysts were simply wrong.
In the meantime, they had a missing shoe to find. If she was going to help them, she shouldn’t let some unrelated distraction delay the mission, not NM and not some girl named Calista.
The spy museum was now within sight. The secret headquarters for Operation Missing Shoe was getting set up upstairs.
Abbi’s phone rang. It was Big Sam.
“In character, Miss Kowalski! And stay in character wherever you go. Even in your apartment at headquarters. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I think so. Where are you?” Abbi asked
“Never mind that. There are things you need to know. Your mother’s brother was killed a few years ago by the same group that tried to control Tina, the girl your mother rescued. That group is huge, growing quickly and now expanding internationally. Dangerous. New factions aren’t always in line with the original focus.”
“NM2?” Abbi asked for clarification.
“The same. Your uncle was my best friend. There was a witness to the killing. Now you know who that was.”
“I’m not sure, but I’m beginning to suspect. Mrs. Hightower?”
“You got it! She was there when it happened.”
Funny that all of a sudden everyone seemed to want to fill Abbi in with details.
“NM2 isn’t playing around. Watch your back at all times.”
“Thanks for the info, Big Sam! I’ve been trying to! All these red shoelaces are making me a little jumpy though. I’m afraid I’ll miss the real thing.”
“Trust your instincts. See you soon, Miss Kowalski. If you call me, or HT or GK, say that you’re looking for the missing shoe. That’s also your pass phrase at headquarters. Good luck.”
Louise started to point to the famous Ford Theatre. Abbi pushed her hand down.
“Sorry!” Louise said quietly.
“You should be near the temporary headquarters by now, Miss Kowalski,” Big Sam said.
“We have arrived,” Abbi said and the phone clicked.
FORTY-EIGHT
Abbi and Louise approached the International House of Spies. The signs on the tall brick building in downtown Washington revealed espionage in a somewhat playful manner. Neon signs of spies and flickering strobe lights added to the glitz and fit in with the neighboring tourist shops.
Lowell met them on the sidewalk near the museum, looking cool, like he’d done nothing but stand and wait.
“Don’t get the wrong impression. This place isn’t just fun and games. It takes a lot of guts to pull off this kind of display. You’ll see,” Lowell said.
“You mean some of the stuff in the museum is real?” Louise asked.
“Correct. Every display took time to negotiate, to reveal only the information that can be released to the public. As you enter, it is extremely important to retain your new identity throughout your stay here, whether you’re downstairs in the museum or upstairs in the Bureau’s temporary headquarters. Again, the people in headquarters will not know your identity, for your own safety.”
“Yes, sir!” Abbi said. “I’m sure we can do this. Right, Foo Foo?”
“Foo Foo?” Lowell asked.
“Mademoiselle Soufflé,” said Louise, as she cast a sideways glance at Abbi. “I will do my best. Miss Kowalski doesn’t make it easy for me though.”