Prism (Story of CI Book 1)

by Rachel Moschell

  Now even Alejo almost laughed. That’s where Gabriel’s family thought he went when he disappeared with his friends for weeks at time: skiing in France. It felt good to smile. Gabriel seemed happy thinking about his mom, and the week at her house had fattened him up a bit.

  “It’s just, I feel weird, you know,” Gabriel sighed, still batting at the stupid mosquito. “Like I shouldn’t be here. I mean, I see how pretty everything is here in Coroico, and I am so happy to be alive. But I should be dead.” One of his hands drifted to his throat and Gabriel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “God gave me back my life, but now I feel that my life has to totally belong to him, you know? And what if I don’t do what he wants? What if I mess up?” Gabriel paused, and wrinkled his nose. “Does that make any sense?”

  “God wouldn’t save your life just so you can feel all tortured about it,” Alejo frowned. “He saved you because he loves you, not so you can be his slave the rest of your life.”

  Gabriel looked at Alejo, one sandy eyebrow raised. “Yeah, but imagine how ticked off he’ll be if after he saved my measly little life I sit around living for myself instead of doing everything I can to serve him.”

  “Did Ishmael talk to you about all this?” Alejo asked, suddenly feeling cold as he remembered the trip with the Khan to the Tribal Area. “He’s not trying to tell you to go spend the rest of your redeemed life as a Taliban fighter or something, right?”

  “No!” Gabriel actually smiled now and stood up, dusting off his sweat pants. “Can you see me with all those tough guys, wearing a turban? I can’t even grow a beard!”

  Alejo had to laugh at the image of Gabriel wielding an AK-47 and smoking opium in the middle of the desert.

  “Who knows?” Gabriel put his hands on both hips, and stretched a little, leaning to one side. “Whatever Allah has for me might even be good.”

  “And it might even include Ambrin.”

  Gabriel scoffed, but seemed quite pleased by the thought. “Let’s go over to the café,” he grinned. “I’m starving.”

  Gabriel and Alejo joined the rest of the team in the café attached to the side of the modest Kory Tours office, which at present was sealed shut by a padlocked, roll-down metal door until office hours began. The tour agency was their cover here in Coroico, keeping them all employed in the eyes of this lazy tropical town. Benjamin also worked as a doctor in a little clinic sponsored by the government of Iran. Stalin spent his mornings at the local elementary school, teaching, of all things, Morality and Ethics class. The two of them now sat at one of the café’s small tables, leisurely spreading jam and margarine onto fresh bread from the corner store. Lázaro hummed behind the counter in the food prep space, sporting a white apron and pouring steaming organic espresso from Coroico into glazed ceramic mugs.

  “Hey, good morning!” Lázaro called cheerfully. He kicked the mini refrigerator door closed after replacing the milk. “Come on and have breakfast! Fresh marraqueta bread, and I’m letting you all have some of my brownies.”

  Alejo grinned and he and Gabriel scraped some chairs over to the tiny table with the others. Lázaro had learned to make awesome brownies and cheesecake from his mom back in Puerto Rico, and his desserts made the café really popular with tourists.

  “Sure, I think I could choke down one of your brownies today.” Gabriel casually nodded his thanks as Lázaro plopped down a mug of strong creamy coffee in front of him. “Or two. Depends on how much I think you need to have your self-esteem improved today by me eating your food so you won’t, you know, think it’s gross or anything. Oww!”

  A stale circle of bread flew through the air from where Lázaro had returned behind the counter and thumped Gabriel in the side of the head. Gabriel rubbed his head in mock pain as Alejo jerked crossly towards Lázaro. “Hey! He’s got to be careful, you know.” Alejo knew that the worst of Gabriel’s injury was healed, but he still felt protective, maybe guilty that something so awful had happened to a member of his team and he hadn’t been able to stop it.

  “So,” Stalin mumbled around a large mouthful of bread smothered in jelly, “we’re gonna meet our clients half way up the trail, right?”

  Alejo made a face at the sight of crumbs spewing across the table. “Yeah, all eight of the Paraguayans are going to meet us up there.” They would meet on the trail up to Uchumachi, the mountain top where Kory Tours led the wilderness survival tours that were completely booked every other week by Prism trainees. Everyone down here in Coroico thought the Kory Tour guys were up there teaching survival skills to tourists from all over South America. Uchumachi was isolated, perfect for Alejo and his team to train others.

  This weekend would be extra busy, because there would be a special guest: Ishmael Khan, all the way from Pakistan. It had been a year since the Khan had attended one of their trainings, but he claimed that it was long overdue, that he had missed Bolivia and missed them all.

  Alejo suspected that he mainly wanted to check on Gabriel, his “nephew”, who had given him quite a scare.

  As the junior member of the leadership team, Lázaro was staying behind to man the café and Kory Tours. Lázaro didn’t mind terribly much, well aware that the gringa girls who came to the café for organic coffee thought he looked hot in the Irish tweed hat he always wore and that white apron. The café wouldn’t have any business without his brownies, anyway, so it was a logical choice.

  “So, we’ll be back on Monday afternoon, then.” Alejo clasped hands briefly with Lázaro, and swung one of the streamlined North Face backpacks full of supplies they had prepared last night onto his back. “Tuesday we’ll start getting everything ready for the crusade.” Alejo and his team had already picked the spot for the operation against Salazar, a greasy sandwich kiosk in Cochabamba’s market where the man met his old college buddy every second Friday of the month. The street was packed and hemmed in by tall buildings. No one would ever know where the sniper’s bullet had come from.

  “Call me with any news,” Alejo instructed half-way out the door, then turned back to snatch another brownie off the table. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Anytime!” Lázaro called, tipping the brim of his hat to them all. As they left, Alejo could have sworn he saw Lázaro checking his reflection in the bamboo-framed mirror along the wall, flicking off stray bread crumbs with a satisfied smile.

  It was 8:30 in the morning on Sunday when Alejo’s sat phone buzzed with a call. The group had just finished a discussion called “Ethical Questions Related to Justice” and were now lounging around debating and munching granola bars for breakfast. He pulled the phone out of the leg pocket of his pants, glancing at the screen for ID.

  “Lázaro.” Alejo wandered from the clearing and entered the relative coolness of the forest at the top of the Uchumachi mountain. A thick cloud of mist still hung over the tops of the tangled foliage, not yet burned away by the mid-morning tropical sun.

  “Alejo. I’ve got news.” Lázaro’s voice twitched with excitement. “The speaker for the crusade we’ve been planning….he’s down here. I saw him.”

  Alejo blinked, suddenly at a loss for words. “Uh, he’s there? In Coroico?” Wasn’t that what Lázaro had just said? “Do you know why?”

  “Yeah, you’re going to love this. It appears the guy is some kind of amateur sculptor and he entered that contest here in Coroico this weekend. I saw the guy walk by on the sidewalk this morning, when I was setting up the café. He’s with five staff members, and I followed them over to Henrich’s for breakfast. I got a table close to theirs out on the porch and heard, like, everything they said.” A long, long pause. “He’s going to Thailand again,” Lázaro said. “After her leaves Coroico, the day after tomorrow.”

  Alejo clenched his teeth, hard. “Ok, I’m not sure you really want to hear the rest,” Lázaro rambled on, “but you’re going to anyway.” Gabriel appeared next to Alejo and Alejo punched the sat phone’s speaker button since they were away from the others and a thousand feet above Coroico. Lázaro’s voice blared disto
rted out of the phone’s miniature speakers.

  “After they finished breakfast, I took a little stroll through the plaza to check out the sculpture exhibition, which I had not done since I’ve been so darn busy at work this weekend. I found, unfortunately, the statue that S…that the speaker entered in the exhibition and I am just sad that I’m the one who had to see it and be here describing it to you.”

  “I need to get back to the group. Can you hurry this up?”

  “I’m getting there,” Lázaro insisted crossly. “So the guy made this humongous statue out of white plaster or something. I think it’s supposed to be himself as some great benefactor. He’s got himself sitting on a chair, and then around him are four little boys on the ground, looking at him. There’s an older boy, like maybe twelve, sitting on the guy’s lap. There’s a lot of detail in this thing, so I go closer and see that all the kids have either a little notebook or backpack with their name engraved on it. Like I said, wish you were here.”

  Alejo rubbed his temple and spoke before allowing himself to think. “Did any of them say Ruben?”

  There was a long pause, and then Lázaro said, cautiously, “Now that’s freaky. How did you know? That’s the kid on the guy’s lap.”

  Alejo’s head reeled but he managed to focus, fingers digging into the phone. Rage filled him, and he let it, anything to keep away the tears he really didn’t want Gabriel seeing.

  Gabriel leaned against a fat banana plant, visually disturbed. “What are you going to do, che?”

  “I’ll call you back.” Alejo flipped the phone shut and jammed it into his pocket. He and Gabriel stared at each other for a moment, and then Alejo whirled around and began to pace. Fallen eucalyptus leaves perfumed the air as his sandals crushed them into the ground.

  “We have to move the crusade up,” he told Gabriel, still pacing.

  “I agree. We have to do it before the trip to Thailand.”

  Alejo slammed a fist into the trunk of the banana plant, swearing loudly. Ruben! To think that after all this time, Salazar still remembered, was still gloating. And why shouldn’t he? No one cared, no one was going to make him pay.

  Where was justice? Apparently, hiding her eyes.

  No, God is justice, and his eyes are always on the earth, to reward the righteous and punish the wicked. And right now, I’m his hands. God help me if I just sit here and watch without doing something.

  Gabriel was trying to calm him down. “Listen, che, I’ve got all the equipment we need at Boris’ house. I can hike into town and find a new spot. I don’t need a lot of time to do calculations.”

  Alejo narrowed his eyes at Gabriel, feeling possessed. He tried to concentrate, running through the same arguments he had had with himself on too many occasions.

  Are you really thinking of killing the guy? Murder is a sin.

  Yeah…but so is allowing the innocent to be hurt or killed.

  Are there other options?

  Let the national authorities punish him according to the law...

  That really hadn’t gone so well in the past. Salazar and anyone with the power to do anything were constantly scratching each others’ backs. A total indifference to his activities had only made Salazar more bold in breaking the law, knowing no one would care.

  “No.” Alejo stopped in his tracks and held up one hand. “In Cochabamba the sniper could easily get away. It can’t work here in Coroico.” Gabriel seemed crushed. “Coroico is too small,” Alejo continued, “too nosy. Everyone sees everything, and the population here is too small for us to avoid suspicion in the investigation. But I have an idea. Tell me honestly if you can do this.”

  He explained his idea to Gabriel, whose lips twitched into a smile, then broadened into a genuine grin as he received the challenge to put his considerable talents into action—now. Gabriel let out a low whistle and looked at Alejo.

  “Sounds great, but there’s always the possibility of more people being onsite besides just the speaker. The staff, for sure, would be collateral.”

  “Of course,” Alejo said. “Let them be collateral. They know, I’m sure of it. They’re with him almost 24/7.”

  “Oh, this is going to be fun!” Gabriel’s eyes were shining again, and he pounded Alejo on the shoulder before turning back towards the clearing. “I’ll get some stuff from Boris’ place. Then, I’m going to mail a package.”

  Gabriel marched happily back towards the Khan and the other guys, probably to share the good news that they would get to be part of the operation as a bonus to the weekend.

  Alejo slowly slid down against the trunk of the sleek banana plant and buried his face into his arms.

  8

  scarlet

  THIS WOULD NEVER, EVER HAPPEN back in Ohio.

  Noah stood on the edge of a jagged black boulder, wet from bare feet to shoulder with icy spray from a nearby sixty-foot waterfall. Two sapphire butterflies slowly flapped their powdery wings as they rested on Noah’s right bicep, inhaling droplets of water from his exposed skin with their thin black tube mouths. A dozen more butterflies soared through the spray near him, dodging clouds of crystalline mist tossed off the roaring waterfall. They formed a living rainbow of jade, coral, buttercup yellow, and scarlet, flitting in circles around Noah’s body, landing on Tobin’s and Tobias’ legs.

  Lázaro from Kory Tours, who was working even late Sunday afternoon, waited for them down below next to a basket full of fresh picked mangos and oranges for a snack before they headed back to Coroico.

  It was May, nearly winter in Bolivia, but here the earth was still full of butterflies and tangled flowers. If Noah were home in Ohio, he would probably be sprawled on the couch in sweats, watching American Idol reruns and eating Doritos.

  Thank you God for letting me be here.

  Bolivia is beautiful.

  This waterfall was the third Noah and the guys had visited this afternoon with Lázaro in the hired Kory Tours pick-up truck. Noah now stood next to the foaming pool that formed the base of the waterfall. The climb around the edge of the pool, grabbing frigid rocks for support, had been awesome; making it to the back of the roaring waterfall, staring through the rushing water from the darkened cave behind it, had been unbelievable.

  Now the sun was beginning to drop behind the forested mountains, and the chill of wet clothes caused Noah to sigh and admit that it was time to change and head back to town.

  For a huge dinner, hopefully.

  With all the hiking and rock-climbing they had done today, he felt that tonight he would eat like a horse. And sleep like a baby.

  “C’mon, I think we should go.” Eduardo had worked his way back from behind the falls and now stood ankle-deep in swirling water next to Noah. He leaned close to be heard over the pounding of water upon water. “It’s getting late.”

  “Sure, ok,” Noah mouthed, and gently flicked the blue butterflies off his arm, sorry to see them go. The two Australians had already begun to climb down the wet, slippery rocks high above the truck, baseball caps dripping water down their sun-burned faces. Noah slipped into the cold water, feeling the push of the uneven pebbles at the pool’s bottom against his feet. Being tall was an advantage in this case, and he didn’t find it too difficult to discover all the handholds and make it safely back to the flat ground close to the road.

  All of the guys pulled on the t-shirts that they had left strewn across some scrubby plants near the truck, and then sat on dry boulders in silence, eating juicy mangos, letting their soaked shorts and legs dry a little in the sun.

  It was good they had brought Kory Tour’s truck instead of the Jeep. At least now they wouldn’t have to get the seats of the Jeep wet and squishy with their behinds.

  Noah smiled to himself, wiped his sticky fingers on the sides of his shorts, then got up and followed the guys to the truck. They made sure everyone had their cameras, phones, and was wearing shoes, then swung themselves up into the bed of the rusted white pickup, sitting on the sides. Tobias went up front to keep Lázaro company
, and as soon as he had slammed the pickup door, they bumped their way back onto the road, headed to Coroico.

  “So, what did you guys think?” Lázaro turned around to look at them through the open back window of the truck’s cab, hands casually gripping the wheel. The guy’s English had a funky British accent going on; Lázaro told them he had gotten his masters in England. “Aren’t the falls awesome?”

  “Oh my gosh, yeah,” Tobin said, practically yelling to be heard over the noise created by speeding over the uneven road. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Kayaking yesterday was cool though, too.”

  “Lázaro is the man for kayaking!” Eduardo said loudly. “This guy taught me everything I know about camping.” Noah and Eduardo had come to Coroico before and spent the day kayaking with Lázaro as their guide last year. It was great that Lázaro had been available this year, because the guy was a lot of fun and knew everything about the Great Outdoors. He even had a workshop in town where he brought people in from little villages around Coroico and taught them how to promote the cool things in nature right in their towns for when the tourists came.

  “So you guys are going to Cotapata tomorrow, right?” Lázaro asked, adjusting a pair of dark shades over his eyes and pulling his wool Irish cap down against the glare of the setting sun. His pearly teeth shone against his tan as he grinned at them in the rearview mirror.

  “Yep,” Eduardo said. “We’re really pumped for this hike.”

  Cotapata National Park was going to be amazing. A diverse ecosystem, filled with species that ranged from the giant condor to the spider monkey.

  Lázaro let up on the gas a little bit now, as Coroico was getting closer and a higher speed could be risky with more vehicles on the road. Spiky bushes laden with tiny red coffee beans lined the road, and behind them glossy banana plants sprouted, bundles of ripening violet bananas clustering from their stalks.

  The citric aroma of the three oranges Noah had eaten wafted to his nostrils, still on his skin, and he inhaled deeply.