“Yes but they have a plane down at the coast,” said Clive. “And radios and cell phones and all that…”
“Just go, man, go,” said Lucy. “Lemme have your cell, Krish,” she said. He handed it over. Lucy punched in a number. “Francesca, please.” She waited. “Hey, it’s Lucy. Yeah. Yes. Yes, five babies, three American girls, one Nicaraguan girl, and Clive. Yes, that Clive.” She listened a minute. “Right. Fantastic. Tell Manny I—we—love him.” She hung up. “He’s got a plane en route. Going to take us to San Jose.”
“Then what?” said Clive. “I have no passport, no money, no papers. I have nothing.”
“Go to your fucking consulate, dude,” said Krish. “They’ll take care of you. That’s what they’re there for. And you, my friend, are the least of our problems.”
“So what was up with the Rancho, girls?” Lucy said. “How did you end up in that hole, anyways?”
“God, my mom and dad—I mean maybe they were right to want me to go somewhere,” Corinne said. “But I don’t think they had a clue about this place.”
“Really,” said Annette. “I was screwing up a little—smoking dope and stuff—but…” she started to cry. “It was so horrible what that man—”
“Douglas?” Lucy said softly.
They nodded and fell silent.
“Did he—” she stopped, and waited. The girls exchanged glances. Finally Corinne spoke. “Almost every night he would—one of us had to go up to the house. It was so weird, his wife would come into the dorm, they called it, but it was more like a jail—so she’d come in with that Augusto, and he would take one of us—it was always one of us three, because we were—chosen—his wife said. She was so weird. She’d stay there and read all this stuff from the Bible while one of us went up there with Augusto.” Her voice faded to a pained whisper. “And then we had to—”
“Fuck him,” Annette said, spitting the words out. “We had to sleep with that horrible man.”
“He was like, so creepy.” Nadine spoke, her tears falling freely. “You never knew if it would be you or—some of the orphan girls got older, and he was—they were only like twelve, but he was, you know—”
“Sleeping with them too,” Lucy said.
“We didn’t know what to do,” said Corinne. “We tried to—a couple of weeks ago this kid Bobby got me and Annie to sneak out when we were on pig patrol—that’s where we had to clean up the pigpens and the animal shit and stuff.”
“They made us work like, twelve hours, six days a week, cleaning the house or the barns, or taking care of the animals, or the garden, or—”
“We ran away but we didn’t get very far, no one would give us a ride and then Augusto brought us back and they locked us in these little, like, horse stalls, and made us go to the bathroom on the ground and eat this horrible soup with bugs in it and stuff. God it was so—” Corinne burst into tears.
“How did your parents find this place? How did you end up here?”
“Through church,” Nadine said. “Mrs. Douglas came to the church to speak, and she talked all about this Christian school for problem kids she and her husband had set up down here. She talked about the orphanage, and how we would be helping with the babies.”
“Meanwhile they’re getting those babies from Nicaragua. Stealing them. At least that’s what we heard.”
“It’s true,” Lucy said. “We saw them bring these three babies in a boat.”
“She made the same speech at my parents’ church, too,” said Corinne. “And then my Dad kept telling me that I was asking for it—I guess since I was missing a lot of school and messing around and stuff, and then all of a sudden they’re shipping me off to Costa Rica. At first when Mrs. Douglas met us in San Jose it seemed OK.”
“Yeah, she met the plane and talked about God all the way back up here and I thought, OK, this lady’s into her Jesus stuff but that’s not the worst thing, it looked pretty cool—the volcano, and Costa Rica and stuff.”
“Then we got here in this jungle and they put us in that dorm, and pretty soon we’re being treated like slaves, and told not to even look Mr. Douglas in the eye, and then—”
“And then after a couple of weeks Mr. Douglas started, you know, making us go up there at night.” She stopped. They were quiet for a moment. Lucy wondered if she had a gun and had Douglas in her sights would she kill him? At that moment the answer was an unequivocal YES. And maybe his wifey too.
“”Well, we’re headed to San Jose today. You can fly out of there today. Tickets on me.”
“But he’s got our passports, Lucy. How are we going to leave?”
“I know someone in San Jose who can get you new passports.” They would be fake, and she wasn’t sure if he would do it or if he could, but that was her plan at the moment. Get them out of the country, and fast.
“Shit, here they come,” Krish said. They could all hear the drone of a plane in the distance. “Turn everything off and steer close to the bank,” he said. Clive hit some switches as he maneuvered the boat towards the shore. Soon they were silently drifting under heavy, overhanging trees. Krish grabbed a branch and the boat stopped dead for a moment as they plane came bombing down the river, just a few dozen feet above water. Missing them.
“I know the way through the backwater canals all the way down to Tortuguero,” said Clive.
“But won’t the guys in the plane be looking for us going that way?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Krish said. “They might have spotted my van and figured we’re headed back towards Fortuna. Besides, it’s not like we have a choice, Lucy. I don’t know about you but I do not want to go that way.” They started up again and sped down the river. Soon they reached the San Juan, and turned east, downstream.
“How long will it take us to get to the Turtlehead,” Lucy said.
“If we go too fast, maybe one hour,” Clive said.
“Go too fast,” said Krish. “Speed, and pray that plane doesn’t…”
“We can’t just pull up the dock down there,” Lucy said. “We can’t bring those crazy fuckers down on the hotel.”
“We’ll dump the boat before we get there,” Krish said. “Stash it in a backwater out of sight and borrow some canoes. We’ve got to get these kids and babies somewhere safe, soon.” The girls from El Rancho huddled in the boat, exhausted, in shock. The babies slept on. They were dosed with mini-hits of heroin regularly, said Clive, to keep them quiet.
“We’ve got to get away. That’s the first step,” said Krish. “Get off this coast and fast. All of us. As for me—well, Lucy, I’m beginning to see the end of my tourism career in sight, I’m afraid.”
“No way, Krish, there’s—”
“Let’s not kid ourselves, Luce. With enemies like those hombres we just kicked butt on, I don’t think I’ll ever quite feel safe again in Fortuna.”
“I see your point. Well,” Lucy said brightly. “You could always move your operation to Nicaragua, and while you’re at it find these babies’ parents.”
“Yes, yes, Lucy, I could, but nobody wants to go to Nicaragua. Oh well, what the fuck. Hey, I see buildings ahead on the right. Could that be the Turtlehead?”
“It is the most northerly of all the Tortuguero lodges,” Lucy said. “So that could be it. Let’s get closer and have a look.” It was the Turtlehead.
“OK,” Krish said softly. “We’ll backtrack north, and when we spot a house or some place with canoes—everybody’s got a canoe around here—we’ll hide the boat—and then we’ll have to help ourselves. Leave money for them.”
“You know what, Krish? I’d love to sink this boat if we can find a place to do it quietly.”
He gave her a look. “Well, OK then. We’ll sink it.”
A few moments later they spotted a house on stilts with two canoes drawn up on a sandy bank underneath. It lay on a small offshoot of the main canal. Krish steered up the side creek, turned off the engine, and let the boat drift to the beach just downriver from the house. After they all jumped ou
t, he gave the cigarette a shove. When it was twenty yards into the main stream, he wrapped a cloth around the gun barrel to muffle the sound, and shot the boat twice. As it floated downstream it began sinking, the stern with its heavy engine slipping into the water, the bow pointing upwards. They watched quietly from the bank as it drifted away and slid slowly but surely out of sight into the water.
“It’ll probably turn up on the beach in a few days,” whispered Krish. “But it will be in very sorry shape, to say the least.”
“Good job, Krish,” Lucy said. “Hey, it’s getting late here. That plane’s bound to be back down here hunting us. We’d better get moving.” Lucy stuck four hundred dollar bills in an envelope with a note of apology for the inconvenience, and placed it on the bottom step with a rock to hold it down. Then they boarded the canoes, babies in their arms, and shoved off to paddle downstream. They arrived at the Turtlehead Lodge just as a gang of chunky American tourists prepared to board one of the lodge boats for a grand tour of the national park. Dressed in dazzling white with a captain’s hat atop her head, Francesca Marquez stood at the wheel.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOMEWARD BOUND
Ninety minutes later they landed in San Jose. By then the morning sun had chased them over the mountains and the three girls knew the story of Lucy’s life—and she knew way too much about life at the Rancho de Luna.
Clive ran for a taxi. He was going to the Canadian consulate to straighten out his passport problems and then catch the first flight he could find that would take him to Canada as quickly as he could get there. All this on five hundred dollars that he wheedled out of Lucy since he had no money, no clothes but the shorts and t-shirt on his back, no papers, and no friends other than Lucy and Krish, it seemed, in all of Costa Rica. As she handed it over he promised to pay her back right away as he jumped into the cab. He gave a wave from the back of the cab and was gone, never to return, as he had sworn in the long run in the cigarette boat, floating downstream through the canals that were his prison walls, to anywhere within a thousand miles of Costa Rica.
Lucy handed over the babies to Francesca’s cousin, who met them at the airport with money for Lucy from Manny. The cousin had contacts in Nicaragua and was devoted to the work of repairing the damage done by the war. Returning babies was part of that work. Lucy and Krish drove Esmeralda and the three American teenagers straight to the Grano d’Oro Hotel, a small, luxurious San Jose hideaway not too far from the airport highway. Krish said, “Gotta take care of business, see you tomorrow?” with a look in his eyes Lucy couldn’t quite read, and then he took off. She rented a two bedroom suite, damn the expense, got the girls into a plush bedroom, ordered a huge room service breakfast, then called Manny at Costa Rican Journeys.
“Listen Manny, I can’t thank you enough for what you did. We were in a bloody fucking mess over there but I think we’ve got it sorted out.”
“So I heard. I mean, Frannie updated me a little, and I’m glad I could help with the plane, but…”
“Listen. I’m fine, the book’s nearly done, at least the in-country part. And now,” she took a deep breath, “I need to ask another huge favor of you.”
“Fire away, Lucy.”
“It’s going to take some explaining but I wonder if you know where I might be able to—is anyone listening at your end?”
“No, I’m not on the speaker and there’s no one in my office.”
“I need three U.S. passports desperately.”
“What do you mean? Did someone lose them? They just need to go to the consul.”
“No, it’s more complicated than that, Manny. Do you have a few minutes?”
“I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. You have my undivided attention until then.”
“Remember when we talked last about the Four Señors?”
“Of course. You were going to—”
“Talk to Larry down at Playa Grande. I did, and things have gotten crazier and crazier ever since.” She gave Sky a five minute version of the story, omitting Krish’s role to protect him.
When she finished, he was silent for a few seconds. “Jesus H. Christ, what a major creep!” he yelled. “It figures, half those green beret types are psychos from what I’ve heard. Man, that’s about the strangest story I’ve heard this year, and I’ve heard some strange ones. So he’s got their passports, and—”
“I’ve got the three girls here. They’re safe. But they need to get home. And Esmeralda needs a place to go.”
“Why don’t you go to the consulate? The main guy’s Frank Wilson. Friend of mine. Those girls are American citizens, Lucy, there’s no way—”
“Look, maybe I’m paranoid. This guy Douglas is an American citizen too, and he’s been in and out of various sleazy quasi-governmental operations for years. He worked with Ollie North, he’s got the Four Señors behind him, he’s—”
“Connected. You’re right. I see your point.” He paused. “Listen: Stay put and lay low. I’ll be there in two hours. After my meeting.” He hung up. Lucy went back in the other room. The girls were scarfing down platters of bacon and eggs, and watching CNN.
Wearing shades and a hat and a fake mustache, Manny showed up with his camera. He told them his name was Weegee as he took three pics of each girl and said he’d be back by six. Lucy got on the phone and found a nine pm flight from San Jose to Los Angeles. She drove to the ticket office, and with fingers crossed that her credit card would accept the charge she bought three one-way tickets to LA, with continuations to San Francisco, St. Louis, and Philadelphia, PA, with the three names they’d agreed on for the passports, then went back to the hotel. The passports were at reception, stuffed in a manila envelope with Lucy’s name on it. Lucy took the girls to the airport and got them through customs and gave them each a hundred bucks in cash and watched them onto the plane. No trouble at all. The plane took off on schedule. Lucy went back to the hotel and called Harold.
“Hey,” she said when he picked up.
“Luce, God its good to hear your voice. So what’s up? Let me guess: you jumped in head first and now have the fucking marines after you.”
“Not quite, but listen, I’ve got a line maybe on an investment in a beach hotel in a place called Playa Rajada. Gorgeous little b&b. It would be a partnership but the place is incredible. I’m supposed to meet with the owners day after tomorrow. Then maybe two more days on the book trail and I should be done.”
“Sounds good. Should I alert the crew?”
“Wait on it. It’s a deal in progress.”
“So you’ll be home in what, five, six days?”
“A week at the most.”
“Well, I guess I’ve got to find a new career,” Krish said, as soon as they’d sat down in the Grano d’Oro dining room. A night had passed. Today felt…almost normal.
“What’s that?” Lucy said.
“Somebody firebombed my building and burned all my boats.”
“Oh my God,” Lucy said. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes, no one was in the building at the time. But I have no insurance. They also stole the truck from Sarapiqui.” He gave her a look. “I’m sure it was Douglas and his crew. God, I’d like to take that fucker down.”
“Damn, Krish, I’m so sorry,” Lucy said, and sighed heavily. “I bet you wish you’d never met me at this point.”
“I chose to do everything I did, Lucy. And I’m not one for regrets. Besides,” he said, looking for a bright side. “I was getting a little tired of running a business. Could use a break. I think I might go back to California for a while. I just feel badly about my workers depending on the business for their families.”
“I’ll see if I can get Manny to hire a few of them,” Lucy said.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. He sat heavily, semi-shocked. “Just like that, seven years’ work down the tubes. And I’ll have to empty my bank account to make sure the crew has some severance to coast on for a few months. It’s not like there’s a lot of work out there.”
“One hell of a wild time, Lucy Ripken,” he said. “You changed my life. Literally. I’m not one for long goodbyes, so let’s not drag this out.”
“Hey, no problem, tough guy. Just—thanks for everything, and sorry about your—”
“Business? Career? Forget that. I’ve got your numbers. I’ll be in touch. Watch out for those motherfuckers, Lucy. And keep up the good work. My only regret,” he murmured as they hugged, “is that I never got a chance to make love with you in a comfortable bed.”
“Hush your mouth, you bad boy,” she said, pushing him away with a laugh. “You did a good enough job on the ground.” She slapped him hard on the ass.
“Ow! God it hurts so good,” he laughed. “See you somewhere, sometime, soon I hope, Lucy Ripken,” he said, and strolled out of the lobby. He gave her a last glance from the sidewalk. She waved and he was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A STORIED ENDING
In the evening Lucy took Esmeralda to the hotel restaurant and bought her a gourmet dinner including cake and ice cream for dessert, and after dinner took her shopping in several of the finer stores in the Barrio Amon. They didn’t talk much since Essie, as Lucy had started calling her, spoke no English and her Spanish came so softly Lucy could hardly hear it, much less respond. This was a girl who’d had an impossibly hard life. Lucy knew that, and knew there was little she could do about it beyond what she’d done. Tomorrow Esmeralda would be off to the Osa to start her new life as a hotel maid. Not too glorious, but Manny Sky treated his employees well and she would have a safe place to live and work and learn to read and write, for Manny had promised that as well. Lucy took her back to the hotel and tucked her into the big queen size bed in one room of the suite, then retired to her own bedroom to consider her options. Around midnight she called Harold. It was an hour later in New York.
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