Operation Turtle Ransom

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  “You stay to the north,” I said to Noah through the radio. “We’ll keep watch on the south side.”

  “Which way is north?”

  I had an uncanny ability to always know cardinal direction. It’s my nature, the way I pay attention to my surroundings. I always know which way is north. I forget that others get easily turned around.

  “The side you’re on,” I said. “Assuming you were following the way I instructed.”

  “Roger that.”

  A huevero stood in the doorway, talking with another man inside. We could hear their voices, but couldn’t make out the words. Their transaction was quick, and the huevero hurried back toward the beach to refill his bags.

  “That guy is higher up the chain,” I said to Chris.

  He swayed from one foot to the other. “Let’s go question him.”

  “What’d I say? This is a reconnaissance mission only.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “Go recon his ass and find out where Doug is.”

  At least I knew Chris was feeling better.

  He added. “We’re not going to learn anything squatting in the bushes.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. “Okay. But if I go now, more men might show up while I’m in there. And then what?” I took ahold of his arm. “We need to be patient. Wait until the last huevero comes, when he’s packing up to go.”

  Chris crossed his arms, but seemed to accept my decision. Maybe Noah’s lecture had gotten through to him.

  He dropped his arms and leaned forward. “Wait. Listen.”

  “What? I don’t hear anything.”

  “It’s a phone ringing.”

  “A phone? I thought there wasn’t any service out here.”

  He shrugged. “Sounds like a phone to me.”

  “We need to get closer. See if I can hear that conversation.”

  “I’ll follow you.”

  I pushed through some bushes and started across a clearing. Just as I was in the center, with no cover, car headlights pierced through the dark night. I kicked it into high gear and sprinted for the brush. Chris was right behind me. I plowed through jungle leaves, blind, branches slapping me in the face. My foot landed in a mushy spot and I went down, face first into the mud. Knocked the wind out of me.

  Chris pulled me up by my arm. “You all right?”

  “Sure, just peachy,” I said, bunching up the front of my t-shirt and wringing out the stinky water. I patted my shorts. “Dammit. My phone got wet.” I touched the button to see if it was still working and it lit up like a beacon.

  Chris yanked it from my hands. “Someone might see!”

  He was right. We spun around and dropped to a crouch.

  The rumble of the vehicle joined the night sounds as it bounced down a muddy two-track toward the shack.

  “Pick up?” Noah said in my ear.

  Sure enough, the car pulled right up to the shack, the eggs got loaded into the trunk, and the car left again.

  “We need to follow those eggs,” Chris said. “He can’t drive that fast on these roads. Maybe if we ran behind, we could keep up?”

  “No, we stay on the buyer. He’s the one.”

  “More waiting,” Chris grumbled.

  I swatted at a mosquito on my cheek. “Yes, and we get to do it in a swamp.”

  Chris’s shoulders slumped.

  “Once the hueveros have gone for the night, we’ll see what we can find out. Okay?” I wrapped my arms around him. “Sometimes, the best we’ve got, is to be patient.”

  An hour passed, then another, while I stood there in wet, muddy clothes that wouldn’t dry in this climate if I’d waited ten years.

  Finally, the sky started to lighten, and the leaves of the forest began to take shape.

  Noah’s voice in my ear startled me to attention. “I think that’s the last of them. Looks like the guy is packing up to go. It’s now or never. What’s the plan?”

  My stomach clenched. This was crazy. It wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t going to tell me anything. “I’m going to go talk to him. Keep an eye out. Watch my back.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Stay here,” I said to Chris, and moved from the bushes to the corner of the shack.

  I crept along the side, then around the next corner and inside. It was empty. No man. Bags of eggs were stacked around on the floor, but the man was gone. Something wasn’t right.

  I spun around. Chris was behind me. “I told you to stay put.” Noah came up behind him. “And why are you here?”

  “I saw Chris. I figured something happened.”

  “No, I’m fine. But something’s not right. The guy’s gone.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “I have no idea.”

  A spotlight lit up the world like the sun had been clicked on. I held up my hands to protect my burning eyes.

  “What are you doing?” came a voice.

  “Nothing,” I said. “We, uh…”

  The light was lowered and I could see who was holding it. Officer Ramón. “You’re under arrest for poaching an endangered species.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Being caged like an animal does strange things to the mind. Just the stench of rot and feces that permeated the cell was enough to make me go crazy. Then there were the flies. And the heat.

  I stopped at the bars for the forty-seventh time and smooshed my face between, trying to see what I could. Four adobe walls. A barrier of rusted iron bars. A hallway that turned toward the front office. A tiny window the size of a shoebox near the ceiling let daylight in, only there to let us know whether it was day or night. There was nothing to see. Nothing. We were trapped in a hot, stinking box.

  “Pacing isn’t going to help,” said Noah.

  “Yeah, well, kicking back and relaxing right now is not exactly going to happen for me, you know. And look at me.” I looked down at my wet, mud-stained clothes. “I stink. This place stinks.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be out by this evening. It’s all a formality. ”

  “Are you kidding? He’s accused us of poaching. Poaching! Not to mention I was carrying an unregistered firearm. In a foreign country. This isn’t some small thing, a badge of honor for a”—I flung my hand at him—“renegade, self-proclaimed protector of animals. If this doesn’t get straightened out, I’m done. My whole career, down the drain.”

  “It will. Relax.”

  I started to shake. “Not to mention, we need to get back out there. We need to find Doug. We need to—”

  “Doug’s already dead,” Chris said, his face a rigid mask.

  My stomach sank. Noah and I exchanged a concerned glance.

  “C’mon now,” I said, sitting down on the bench next to him. “There’s no reason to think that. We’re going to get the money. We’ll figure it out. And we’ll pay them, and this will all be over.”

  He wrapped his arms around his chest, shaking his head. “How? We’re in jail. They’re going to kill him.”

  “They’re not. Noah’s right. We’re going to be out of here soon, and we’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get the money and get him back.” I looked at Noah, nodding my head, encouraging him to help.

  “That’s right,” Noah said. “He has value to them. He’ll be all right. As soon as we get out of here, we’ll be back on track. Once they contact us again, we’ll have the details, and this will all be over.”

  Yeah, once we get out of here. I had to think. Focus. “We should get one phone call at least. Or something,” I muttered. “We need to talk to Comandante Garcia.” Officer Ramón had shoved us into the cell, and we hadn’t seen him since. Only a woman who’d sauntered in with bowls of rice and beans, shoved them through the bars, then left without a word. “Wait. Hold on. My phone.” I turned to Chris. “You have my phone, right? From when I fell in the mud.”

  Chris stood, dug in his pocket, and handed me my phone.

  What luck! “Wait. Officer Ramón didn’t pat you down?”

  Noah p
iped up. “He didn’t do anything. Didn’t ask for our IDs. Our names. Nothing.”

  Hope surged in me. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

  “For now,” Noah said, letting all the air out of my bubble. “Remember? You told him yours was Daisy. Clever by the way. Quick thinking.”

  Chris tapped on the phone in my hand. “Call that man you called yesterday, that Mr. Strix,” he said, his eyes lit with hope. “Call him.”

  I pulled back, shaking my head. “I can’t call him. Not about this. I mean, calling him for advice is one thing, but actually asking him to get us out of jail, no way.”

  “I understand,” Chris said, his voice steady, the light gone from his eyes.

  “You do?” I asked, surprised and concerned. He’d changed his attitude so quickly.

  “I understand that your career means more to you than Doug’s life.”

  I pulled back from the sting as though he’d actually slapped me. “That’s not true.”

  “That’s all you’ve cared about. Since you got here, it’s been all about your job. Have to get back to your job. Can’t risk losing that job.”

  The disgust in his eyes cut me to the bone. “That’s not fair.”

  “All right, all right,” Noah said, his voice calm like a school teacher. “This isn’t helping anything. We’re all upset. Let’s not get carried away.”

  The look on Chris’s face as he turned away from me ripped my heart out. He slouched down onto the bench, leaned against the wall and held his head in his hands. His bowl of rice and beans still sat on the bench, next to him, untouched.

  “Gimme the phone,” Noah said. I handed it to him. “Maybe I can get ahold of, I don’t know—” He pushed the button a couple times. “It’s dead. The battery’s dead.”

  Great. Just great.

  I plopped down on the bench next to Chris.

  “We’re just going to have to be patient,” Noah said.

  Chris gave no reaction.

  I got up and went back to the bars. Noah followed me.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “For what? This is my fault. I should have been paying more attention. I don’t know where Officer—”

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry about all of this. I know you didn’t want to get involved. You just came for a vacation.”

  A vision came to me of mimosas on the beach, yoga in the morning sun, fresh fruit and the salty breeze. “Yeah, well. Trouble seems to follow me.”

  He grinned.

  I stepped closer. “Something’s not right,” I whispered so Chris couldn’t hear me. “Officer Ramón took our guns, but he was so intent on shoving us in here, he didn’t even pat us down. He’s done nothing to process us. No questions. No fingerprints.”

  Noah shook his head. “There must be some explanation.”

  “You know what,” I said. “I’m going to have a talk with Officer Ramón.” I leaned into the bars. “Officer Ramón!”

  “Shhh,” Noah said, lunging toward me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why does it matter now? Either the kidnappers know we’re here or they don’t. If they don’t, they won’t know I’ve talked to him.”

  “Yes, but—” He closed his eyes, then opened them again, focused on me. “I wasn’t exactly clear earlier about my previous conversations with Officer Ramón.”

  My jaw tightened. “What are you talking about?”

  “He warned me. About the poachers. But—”

  I stepped closer to him, my irritation rising. “But what?”

  “He comes by once a week.” He drew in a breath, exhaled. “For protection money.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? You just now decided to tell me this?” I could feel my neck getting red, working its way up to my cheeks.

  “Now hold on—”

  “For how long? What kind of protection exactly?”

  “For a few pesos, he’d make sure the poachers stayed south of our beach.”

  I clamped my hands on my hips, afraid if I didn’t, I’d wring his neck. “So, today. What happened when he came by today?”

  “When he came by, he said the cost had gone up.” He sighed. “We told him to forget it.”

  “You did what!”

  Chris was up and lunged at Noah, knocking him against the wall. “You sonofabitch! You go apologize. Right now. You take your wallet.” He tightened his grasp on Noah’s collar. “You go get Doug back. You do it now!”

  I got between them. “Stop! Listen to me. You can kick his ass later. Right now we need to figure out what the hell is going on, and how to find Doug. Okay?”

  He paced to the wall and back, then right up to Noah, inches from his face. “Doug trusted you!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Noah said, pulling away from Chris. “Doug knew all about it. He’s the one who convinced me to stay. He’s the one—” His eyes darted back and forth between me and Chris, then finally settled on me.

  “What?” I said, my teeth clenched together. “You better tell us now.”

  “He’s the one who told him no. He got in his face and told him to go to hell, that we weren’t paying anymore.”

  Chris hesitated, his face flushed with disbelief. Then his expression changed as realization took hold. He staggered backward.

  I helped him to the bench and he slumped down onto it.

  I stomped back over to Noah. “So you’re telling me we’ve been arrested by a”—I dropped my voice—“corrupt cop who’s connected to all this.”

  “I don’t know that for sure.”

  “Now you’re not making any sense. From where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear. Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  “He could have just been taking advantage of us, our fear, you know. It’s a pretty smart move.”

  I spun around in a three-sixty, trying to wrap my mind around what he was telling me. He had a point. I came back to face him. “Well, if he’s connected, then it’s in his best interest to let us out, so we can pay the ransom, right?”

  “Well, yeah.” He hesitated. “I would think.” Then a shrug.

  I chewed my lip a moment, thinking. “But then why would he put us in here to begin with?”

  “That’s what I’ve been wondering.” Noah looked down at his hands. “My gut tells me he’s a good guy.”

  “He’s not a good guy. He’s an officer of the law who’s been taking bribe money.” My cheeks flushed red again. “Why are you defending him?”

  “I’m not. I just…” He threw his hands up. “Maybe he’s being threatened. Or maybe coerced into making the bribes. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  I drew in a deep breath. Let it out. It was possible. It matched what Mr. Strix had told me. “Okay, let’s assume for a moment that that’s the case. Then that would mean that whoever is threatening him is also the kidnapper.”

  “Otherwise, everything would be an awfully big coincidence.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why he’d arrest us. Like I said, it’s hard to pay a ransom when we’re stuck in jail.” I bit down on my lip. “No, something else is going on here.”

  Noah shook his head with frustration. He sat down on the bench next to Chris, leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

  He was right; all we could do was wait.

  I decided to pace some more. Maybe that would jar loose some clarity.

  This was a disaster with no way out. We had no idea who had kidnapped Doug. No idea what Officer Ramón was up to. No idea what to do. And the clock was ticking. I’d never felt so helpless.

  The worse part was, I’d hurt my friend. It wasn’t true. My job wasn’t more important than him and Doug. But we’d been arrested. For poaching! I leaned against the bars. What job? I didn’t have a job anymore. Not after this. Not that it mattered. If being arrested and thrown in this god-awful jail cell was somehow connected to Doug’s kidnapping, we were in bigger trouble than I wanted to admit.

  We had to get out of here. Come hell or
high water, I had to get Doug back. I had to fix this. All of it.

  I stared up at the tiny window. A spider crawled up the wall and into a crevice around the window jam. Maybe it led to the outside. What if I could shrink down to the size of a spider and—now I’m losing my mind!

  Exhaustion threatened to take over. But I couldn’t close my eyes. I had to figure this out.

  Somehow the dinner hour arrived, and the same woman shuffled up to the door, and handed us three bowls of rice and beans through the grate.

  “Gracias,” I said. “Sabe ud si—”

  She turned her back to me as if she hadn’t heard a word and sauntered back out. Damn.

  I spun around and faced Noah. “Okay, we’ve been in here for, like, eighteen hours.”

  He held his index finger to his lips then pointed.

  Poor Chris had finally fallen asleep.

  I moved to whisper to Noah again. “We need to get the hell out of here, and get Doug back alive. Period. Failure is not an option. So you need to start thinking. Why would he keep us in here like this? We can’t even—”

  “Shh. Listen.”

  “I mean, seriously, this is about—”

  “Poppy, listen!”

  I clamped my jaw shut and turned so I could hear. “What? What do you hear?”

  “Voices. Sounds like Officer Ramón is talking to someone out there.”

  “Who?”

  “How should I know? But it sounds like English.”

  I turned my head a little more. Low voices. Male. “The kidnapper?” I whispered.

  Noah shrugged.

  More talking. The words muffled by the walls.

  “I can’t make out—”

  “Shhhh.”

  Five minutes ticked by, maybe ten. Then footsteps echoed down the hall. They were coming our way.

  Noah and I backed away from the bars.

  Officer Ramón came around the corner and, right behind him, striding straight toward me, was Dalton.

  Chapter Twelve

  Oh crap! It really was Dalton. Here. Standing in front of me. In Mexico. “What are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t read the expression on his face. Relief? Anger? Confusion?