The Second Letter

by Robert Lane

  He will drown her like a cat, Escobar thought. He’d heard stories about Ramon. Not my problem. I got to get them out of here and tell Mendis to get another pool boy. I’m done with this shit.

  Escobar had heard stories about smuggling young girls into the states. The supplier told the girls’ impoverished families that they would do housework in America and some of their income would be returned to the family. Only young pretty girls were recruited. The supplier would send just enough money back to the family to keep his standing as a recruiter and secure his pipeline. The girls, he remembered being told, usually did housework until their benefactors tired of them. Then they were put out to the streets. He’d even heard that some would keep a girl for only a few days and kick her out. Virgins, with little risk of HIV, commanded top dollar. The families received a little cash and slept with the knowledge that one of them had finally reached America.

  Welcome in.

  Sex for money. So what, Escobar thought. It’s one of my businesses. In some countries and cultures, fourteen was the consensual age, he reasoned. Maybe some were really just used for domestic help. He carried those thoughts like a shield of armor. He glossed over “consensual.”

  But in his garage. His mind.

  Escobar nodded to Elvis, and Elvis flipped two switches, leaving a solitary bulb to disperse light. Ramon’s men moved toward the girls.

  “Maria!” the smallest girl’s voice cried out in panic.

  “Hold tight, Rosa,” her sister answered, the fear in her voice filling Escobar’s garage. But Escobar heard more. There was a challenge in the girl’s voice. He wondered where the hell that had come from.

  “They treat me like a cat?”

  “I’ll not leave you.”

  “We pray, Maria?” the younger girl asked rapidly. “We pray like Momma told us.” And then even faster, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong—”

  “Shut up, chicas,” Ramon shouted.

  “—they are weak, but he is strong.”

  Ramon grabbed Rosa and tore her from her sister’s grasp. “Get them out of here. This one first, stick her in the van. Now. Move!” His men started toward the girls.

  “Maria!” Rosa shrieked again as she reached back for her sister’s hand. As she did, a small cloth doll fell from her dress onto the floor.

  “Annie!” Rosa said. “I dropped my Annie.”

  Maria held firm to her hand while Ramon clamped Rosa’s right arm.

  “Leave her alone,” Maria said. Her strength startled Escobar.

  Rosa began to whimper. Escobar looked at the ragged doll that lay on its back by her feet and saw that it had only one eye, a sewn-on button. It had a single yellow plastic flower pinned to the side of its head. It lay there worn and dirty, on the clean garage floor of Sophia’s bay, staring at him with its solitary eye. He glanced up at Maria and instantly regretted doing so. She pleaded at him with the same searching eyes Natalie used when she asked if they could go places. But this young girl had a raw sense of hope and a frantic energy in her eyes that sent a shudder through Escobar. Something about her earnest plea briefly made him question if Natalie had been playing with him, but he didn’t have time for that. Not now.

  Ramon gave a final tug and Maria’s grasp was broken. Rosa crumpled to the floor and reached out for her doll with her free arm, but Ramon dragged her over the sealed concrete. Maria darted after her and collapsed on her sister.

  “Maria, they’re taking me!” Rosa screamed.

  “Let her go, she is so young,” Maria shouted as she lifted her sister off the floor. “We stay here. In this place.” She shot a glance over her shoulder at Escobar. She was no longer able to keep the tears from running with her words. “We stay here with you. Whatever you want, but we stay here. Now. With you. Please, with you.”

  The words sputtered out on nothing but the fumes of desperate hope.

  Ramon again broke Maria’s grasp and shoved Rosa toward one of his men. “Get them the fuck out of here. In the van, now.”

  The man slung his gun over his shoulder and reached for Rosa. She let out a high, piercing shriek that would instinctively alarm any living thing. Trapped in the garage, it echoed off the walls. Escobar turned down and away, but the one-eyed doll with the yellow flower in its hair was waiting for him. He looked up.

  “Enough!” Escobar shouted. “Leave them both here. I’ll take them back. Elvis, contact Anthony, tell him he’s taking them back or he’ll never see payment from us. We’ll never do business with that fat fuck again.” He tried to sound indignant, to blame it all on Anthony.

  The garage was quiet, like a play between acts, and then Ramon started to laugh, relaxed and slow. “Well, look what we got. Let Raydel have his children. Maybe you want to do this one yourself, Raydel? You like the little black one and you want her on the floor right here after we leave. Is that it? Or are you too afraid to be in this business? Are you a little boy playing a man’s game? Which is it? Tell me, Raydel, I want to know. Cobarde or saving her for yourself?”

  “Get the hell out of my garage,” Escobar said calmly.

  “Me?” Ramon laughed. “No, Raydel, you’re the one who doesn’t belong here.” He turned to his men. “Grab the four. Let’s leave before Raydel tells us it’s nap time.”

  “Cruz, Victor, help them out,” Escobar said, forcing his voice to be in command and trying to ignore Elvis’s stare. He knows not to challenge me now, Escobar thought. The men escorted the four girls out the side door and left Escobar and Elvis in the garage with Maria and Rosa. Maria gathered the doll and lifted her sister to her feet. Escobar saw no gratitude in Maria’s eyes; whatever caused her to break and cry was now buried and controlled.

  “What do you want me to do?” Elvis asked.

  “I told you, contact Anthony, tell him he’s got two coming back.”

  “We’ve never done that before.”

  “We’re doing it now.”

  “We can’t do it tonight. Best we can do is a rendezvous tomorrow, but even that might be short notice. What do we do with them?”

  “Stick them in the safe room.”

  “What if they got to use the bathroom?”

  “Goddamn it, Elvis, figure it out! Give them food and water, let them piss a few times a day and get them the hell out of this house as soon as you can. You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Escobar thought of Sophia being gone for two more nights. Alejo never came in the house except to the kitchen. Then he thought of Olivia. “Make sure Olivia doesn’t see any of this, or extra food leaving the kitchen.”

  “Sure, boss. I’ll take care of it.”

  Escobar knew by the patronage of his tone that Elvis was fine with Ramon taking all six. Too late now. And food from the kitchen? He was glad Ramon wasn’t around to hear that.

  “Call Anthony. Call him now.”

  Escobar wanted to tell Elvis to have Alejo hose down the garage floor in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that.

  CHAPTER 20

  Five armed men and four girls came out of the side door of the garage.

  A sorry-looking white van, no letters or signage, was backed up close to the garage. One of the men opened the back end and partially obstructed my view. A line of four girls, all about the same height, got into the van, and one man followed them into the back while two others got in the front. The gates opened and the van peeled out, its tires screeching as it took the curve too fast. I would have thought they would have planned a quieter exit. It was too dark to get the plates. The remaining two men drove off in a foreign two-door that looked like it had gone through several sets of tires. I wonder what kept them in the garage for so long. I envisioned the girls in the van and felt hopelessness cloak me like it had been biding its time, searching for its victim, and settled on me.

  It wasn’t my fight. I was in for the letter. But I couldn’t walk away from what I’d just witnessed. Some battles we do not seek, th
ey are forced upon us. I thought of Trotsky: “You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you.”

  I wondered if anyone else in the neighborhood was thinking of Leon Trotsky that night.

  I couldn’t fathom any connection with Escobar’s clubs. This appeared to be something entirely different. Mendis was too smart to get directly involved in this, but I wondered if he had the source and was using Escobar and Henriques to run the operation and then splitting the proceeds.

  But that’s not what nagged me. This just didn’t seem like Escobar’s gig. This was a dirty, nasty business. I knew I’d find dirt under his rug, but smuggling girls? I didn’t cut him for that.

  I made my way back to the boat where Garrett and Morgan were waiting for me.

  “Did you see?” I asked Garrett.

  “Six girls. One very young.”

  “Think this has anything to do with the letter?”

  “Can’t imagine.”

  “We can’t ignore it.”

  “No. We’re going to shut this down.”

  “Too late for the girls,” Garrett said.

  “Maybe not.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I had a better view than you. Only four girls went into the van. All about the same height.”

  “You sure?”

  “Six off the boat, four in the van.”

  “We got ourselves a new game,” he said with anticipation.

  “Yes, we do.”

  Morgan said, “What are you talking about?”

  “We think there are two young girls that were smuggled into the country and they are being held in Escobar’s house,” I said.

  ‘You’ve got to get them out,” Morgan said. “More than anything, you have got to save them.” Morgan was a man who rarely displayed elevated intensity, but when he did, it rose from a fiery core.

  “It’s not what we thought, but we’ve got our leverage to get the letter,” Garrett said.

  “We’ll free the girls and trade him the letter for our silence,” I said.

  “And shut him down?” Morgan asked.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  CHAPTER 21

  Escobar

  The deeper Escobar sunk into the abyss, the more he viewed the letter as his salvation.

  He rose early, as was his custom. Let the wasted youth sleep away the best part of the day. For a day, he believed, like life itself, was truly sweetest at the beginning when it was well rested, full of energy, and held promise for all that still to come. He had just tapped the edge of the pool for the final time, his wake going out before him and announcing his presence, when he noticed the shadow of Elvis flickering on the water. He lifted himself out and Elvis handed him the phone.

  “It’s Mendis,” Elvis said.

  Walter Mendis was talking before the phone found Escobar’s ear. “— it was Kittredge. This man Travis never contacted him saying he’d secured the letter from you.” Escobar felt his day sinking like a heavy rock in thin water.

  “I plan—”

  “I talk, you listen. I took care of Kittredge. I told him Travis was bluffing, told him that the first time he called. Did you think I was bluffing when I told you to fork over the letter?”

  Escobar had decided that Mendis didn’t need to know that he had charted his own course. He would insist that he simply hadn’t done it yet. I’m sticking to my plan, he thought. I’ll keep shoving Mendis away and hold on to the letter until I get the terms I want.

  “We just couldn’t find a time that worked before today,” Escobar said. The silence that bounced off the cell tower told him what Mendis thought of his excuse. Not that Escobar cared. He anticipated that Mendis would blow a little steam. Besides, he had his own point of contention to bring up with Mendis.

  “He’s coming over this morning, Walter. It’s taken care of.”

  “Then Kittredge will be calling me.”

  “I don’t know exactly—”

  Mendis said. “I understand that you kept two back.”

  “You had no right—”

  “That is not a decision for you to make,” Mendis said. “Meanwhile, four more tonight.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s not my decision. It’s my house. I’m done with this.”

  “You sealed your involvement when you didn’t let those two pass. Send them back out tonight. Bring four in and we’ll be done.”

  “Men or young girls?”

  “What, you prejudiced? Girls. You do this one more time and I’ll reconsider our loan arrangement to get the IRS off your back.”

  “I keep my clubs.”

  “I wouldn’t go that—”

  “I keep my clubs” Escobar said.

  “One more shipment. Then we’ll discuss me taking only the carpet business for my lien on your loan.”

  “You used me. You used my boat. It’s a filthy business and I don’t want anything to do with it. Men who pay their way is one thing, twelve-year-old girls are something else entirely. I keep control of my clubs, Walter. You can have a lien on the carpet business and house, nothing else.”

  The line was quiet, and Escobar wondered if he’d crossed another line.

  “I didn’t know that two would be so young,” Mendis said in an even tone that Escobar didn’t fall for. “Do the transfer tonight. Take those two back out. You hire a broker yet?”

  “What?”

  “A boat broker to unload your Carver.”

  “No.”

  “Raydel,” Mendis said, “move on our plan today and get your ass out of the water, or you’ll drown in it.”

  “I need your word, Walter. Tonight is the last night and I keep the clubs.”

  They observed a moment of silence and then Mendis said, “Last night. And you keep your clubs.”

  The air went quiet.

  Escobar, his hand shaking, handed the wet phone back to Elvis. “You tell him I was swimming?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Forget it.”

  He wrapped a white towel around his waist, realized the water on his forehead wasn’t from the pool, and sat down to read the morning paper. He placed another white towel on his lap so his drenched suit wouldn’t soak through the first towel and ruin the paper. He hated reading the sports page when it was wet. He did everything he could to distance himself from the conversation with Mendis and to pretend that he still held a modicum of control over his life.

  “Who’s coming over this morning?” Elvis asked.

  “Travis. Call him. Tell him to pick up that damn envelope.”

  “The one I prepared?”

  “Yeah. Like we discussed. Everything is negotiable. Travis needs to learn that. Mendis just did.”

  “The clubs?”

  “We keep them, but we got more tonight. Girls.”

  “So soon?” Elvis asked. He claimed the chair across from Escobar and sat with his elbows on his knees.

  “It’s the last time for us. Take them around the side and into the van, shut the door and get them the hell out of here.”

  “The two in the safe room?”

  “They go back out tonight.”

  “That little one keeps praying. I thought that room would be soundproof. Good thing the kitchen’s at the opposite end of the house,” Elvis said.

  “Two layers of Kevlar. Incredible. Keeps out bullets but allows a child’s prayer to escape,” Escobar said, but then wished he had not.

  Escobar noted that Elvis referred to them in different manners, as if he couldn’t decide what they were—returns, merchandise, black sticks—he had heard it all over the last twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter now. Soon they, and the letter, would be out of his house, and then maybe he’d be able to relax and start working on Mendis’s plan to appease the IRS. Olivia came and placed scrambled eggs with salmon, onions, and red bell peppers in the middle of the table and then took a step back.

  “Just you two this morning?” she asked Escobar, her hands on her hips. Taking a stand. Escobar wonder
ed if it was impromptu or if she had been summoning her courage for days.

  “Yes, Olivia. Unless Sophia’s here, it’s just us two from now on.”

  “Because I got other things I can do if you don’t respect—”

  “I’m sure you got plenty to do,” Escobar interrupted her, “I just told you the way it’s going to be.” Olivia gave him a hard stare, and they were silent for a few seconds.

  “You be a good man,” she said and turned and strode off before Escobar could respond.

  “Why do you put up with that?” Elvis asked.

  “Doesn’t bother me.”

  “She’s one bad day away from blowing.”

  “Who’s not?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “She’s been with me a long time. Started out as my cleaning lady before I was even married.” Escobar thought of sharing with Elvis how Olivia was raising her grandchild, but he stopped short of that admission. Nor would he divulge that he had already funded the kid’s college bill.

  “Also, I told Natalie I was busy for a few days. I don’t want her around here. She’s been pestering the hell out of me to come over. Might be one of those nut cases you see in the movies. If I see her again, I’ll leave no doubt where she belongs.”

  “When do you want me to call Travis?”

  “Now. Tell him to come over.”

  “Just like that?”

  “No, Elvis, I’m going to meet him at Checkpoint Charlie. What the hell you think?”

  “Mendis expects a call from Kittredge. He won’t get it.”

  Escobar picked up the pepper grinder and spread a generous amount over his eggs. He took a mouthful, chewed it deliberately, and sat back in his chair.

  “We’ve been over this. Everything is negotiable. I’ll take a loan on the carpet business. If I can get the IRS to forego even half, I’m in good shape. Besides, I don’t entirely trust Mendis. He’ll be pissed. But I got better terms from him today, and I bet I get even better terms tomorrow. Plus, I want to play Travis. He’s been goading me since we met and it’s time to turn the tables. Everyone negotiates.”