As he reached for the door handle of the vehicle, his hands trembled. It was a good thing their house in San Benito was secluded and no one else could hear the poor girl cry in pain.
She’d come from the local brothel. At fourteen, she was kidnapped in Honduras, smuggled across the border, and forced into prostitution. Now she was forced to be with Cho and Hwang who were brutalizing her. The brothel boss was handsomely paid in cash and always looked the other way when the girls returned with bruises and rope burns.
CHAPTER 40
* * *
Coming Clean
It was now or never, Nick knew. Then again, it had been such a pleasant evening so far. His news would ruin the mood.
Nick, Buck, Maggie, and Anna sat at a small wooden table underneath the thatched portico of the restaurant. It was a night of celebration and appreciation for Anna’s hard work and for Maggie’s…everything. The aroma of the fried fish, homemade French fries, and local salsa lingered in the night air. The waitress removed their empty plates and asked if they wanted coffee. A large macaw parrot on a perch in the corner made them laugh every time it spouted off colorful language.
A light rain cooled the night, and Maggie pulled a sweater over her shoulders.
“Thank you, guys, so much for dinner,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin and putting it down in front of her.
“Yes, thanks so much,” Anna echoed.
“I hope you know how much we appreciate what you’re doing down here, Maggie,” Buck said. “This tough old soldier has shed more tears this week than he can remember. Of course I remember shedding a few when Jeremiah got his temporary legs. Oh, Nick. Where did the time go? I’ve been meaning to show you a picture.” Buck grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, pulled up a photo, and showed it around the table—Jeremiah and Buck standing together on their prosthetic legs. Buck shed another tear. “Come to think about it, I guess I’m just a big cry baby.”
They all laughed.
Nick was conflicted seeing his young patient in Memphis. He dreaded going back to the grind, but knew there were good works to be done at the MED. “Man, that’s great. Thanks so much, Buck, for helping see to it that he was fitted.”
The waitress set down a coffee in front of each of them. An old-fashioned jukebox played Latin love songs.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Nick. You okay?” Maggie asked.
Nick looked at Buck and knew it was time. He swallowed. “Well, it’s just that Buck and I are thinking of going to Tikal.”
The color drained from Maggie’s face as she leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t know, Maggie,” Nick was quick to interject, “there are still so many unanswered questions for me about John. I think I’m supposed to go to Tikal. I don’t know how to explain it.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence.
Maggie processed the news. “And if I tell you no?”
Nick looked at Buck. “Then we won’t go,” Nick said, almost hoping that was her answer.
“What good do you think it will do?”
Nick and Buck had decided they would tell her nothing about the map or the villages or FOCO. Maybe they were making too much of all of it.
“You can blame it on me, Maggie,” Buck offered. “I encouraged Nick to do this.”
Maggie smiled at Buck, but saw right through him.
“What are you thinking, Maggie?” Nick asked.
“I’m wondering if I could ever go with you.”
“You are absolutely welcome. I hope you know that.”
“I know that, Nick,” Maggie smiled. “I just don’t know if I could go. I know John is in heaven, probably stirring up some sort of ruckus as we speak,” she said, trying to break the tension. “I’ve already thought about this whole thing. I know there is nothing I can do to bring him back to me. It’s just that I couldn’t stand it if something happened to either of you two.”
“I promise I’ll take care of him.” Buck put his arm over Nick’s shoulders.
Maggie shook her head. “I’m telling both of you to be careful.” She pointed a finger at each of them, almost daring them to disobey her.
They saw the resolve in her eyes.
“When would you go? Aren’t you both leaving Sunday?”
“Uh…tomorrow?” Nick said tentatively.
“Oh, you guys.” Maggie picked up her napkin, crumpled it, and threw it at Nick. “Nothing like giving a gal a little time to think.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. I know this is hard, but we won’t go without your blessing.”
Maggie sat in silence.
They knew she was praying.
Finally, she said, “Okay, but you guys have to promise to be careful. I think you should go, but I’m just not ready to go along.”
Nick and Buck smiled without joy but satisfied with the decision.
Anna hadn’t spoken during the entire conversation. Now that it had been decided, she said. “I’ll go with you.”
“No!” all three said in unison.
Anna’s face turned red, but she continued, “Look, you guys speak about ten words of Spanish between you. A lot of good that’s going to do you.”
There was another long silence.
“Your whole team is headed to Antigua tomorrow for a week of shopping. You don’t want to miss out on that, do you?” Maggie asked.
Anna leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and dug in her heels. “I know I’m going to be a whole lot more useful to ya’ll.”
Nick looked at Buck. They both shrugged. She was right. They looked at Maggie.
“All right, but I’m not feeling very good about any of this.”
CHAPTER 41
* * *
The Island of Flores
“Come on, man, we’re going to miss the plane,” Buck hollered from the van.
It would have been a relief to Nick if they had. Buck made the arrangements that included flying. It never crossed Nick’s mind that the plane wouldn’t be a jet. But when Buck had showed him a picture of the six-seater plane they’d be taking, Nick was ready to call the whole thing off. Out of the trio, he was the only one who was anxious, although he tried not to look like a wimp in front of Anna.
I can’t believe she is excited to fly in that puddle jumper.
He heard Buck call him again. He had almost forgotten that he wanted to look up FOCO before they left and quickly typed in the acronym on John’s computer.
Scrolling through the list of Google results, Nick found FOCO—The Friends of Children Organization. He clicked the link and up sprung a colorful web page of smiling children.
FOCO’s slogan—Bettering the lives of children around the world—scrolled across the screen. Nick noted that the main office was in Seoul, South Korea, but he was surprised to find offices in Washington, D.C., as well as Los Angeles, Rio de Janeiro, Beijing, Tokyo, London, Mumbai, Moscow, Johannesburg, and Tehran.
Geez, these guys must be pretty well funded. But there’s nothing about Guatemala.
Buck resorted to blowing the van’s horn.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Nick shouted and shut down the computer.
* * *
Nick examined the small plane as they began their taxi to the Quetzaltenango runway. Much of the vinyl covering on the ceiling was peeling or gone. Buck and Anna sat in front of him, and the pilot and co-pilot in front of them. Their grungy appearance made Nick wonder how often the plane was used to transport tourists and how often it was used to traffic drugs. He wished Maggie had come along so the six-seater would have been properly balanced, and he had someone to hold on to.
Anna’s Spanish and her moxie came in handy when the pilots tried to jack up the price. She flatly told them no and encouraged Buck and Nick to walk away with her. The pilots gave up and agreed to the original price. Nick wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to argue with the pair that held their lives in their hands. He would have paid double to stay on the ground. He stared at the mountains at the end of the
runway. It wasn’t simply the mountains and the condition of the plane that frightened him, it was the dark clouds gathered in the sky.
A loud squeal from under the plane was unnerving, and Nick imagined one of the wheels falling off as they approached the runway. He watched a state-of-the-art helicopter land at the airport and wondered what drug cartel owned such an expensive piece of equipment. He wished they had such rich friends in low places at this point.
Buck turned to him and shouted over the roar of the engine, “Not too late to change your mind.”
Nick gave his friend a frosty stare, and Buck erupted with laughter.
* * *
The forty-minute plane ride was everything Nick imagined and worse. Not long after takeoff, they climbed into the storm. The small plane was buffeted by strong winds. He saw Buck reach up and steady himself against the flaking ceiling of the plane.
As they bumped through the clouds, Nick’s imagination flashed images of them falling through the clouds, only to crash into the side of the mountain, and end in a fiery finale. But the most unnerving part of the flight was when he saw the pilots frantically searching for the airport below them, and Nick realized they were flying totally blind. As the plane circled in a stormy sea of impenetrable clouds, Nick wondered if this was how his life would end. Just when he thought his nerves couldn’t take another minute, he saw the co-pilot pointing enthusiastically at the ground. The plane entered a steep nosedive; Nick feared they wouldn’t recover.
He braced for impact as the plane leveled out in the very last moment, hit the runway with a loud thud, bounced three times, and settled on the pavement at the Mundo Maya International Airport. The pilot and co-pilot high-fived. Anna turned to see if Nick was okay.
He was shaking his head. “That was enough to make a guy pray.”
She smiled at him.
* * *
Buck had made reservations at the Hotel Casona de La Isla. For fifty-two dollars a night, Nick wasn’t sure what to expect as their taxi rumbled over the bridge to the small island of Flores on the outskirts of the main cities of San Elena and San Benito. The travel agent in Quetzaltenango told Buck that it would be a snap to find a local tour guide to take them to the Tikal ruins. He’d advised them to be careful of scams and people off the street claiming to be guides.
Anna asked the taxi driver where they could get something to eat. He suggested either Capitan Tortuga or Jalapenos near the hotel. Neither sounded good to Nick’s churning stomach.
The taxi turned right from Calle Sur to Calle 30 de Junio. The driver explained that Guatemala gained independence from Spain in 1821, but the “Liberal Revolution” took place on June 30, 1871. The nearly ten-by-ten block island was easy to walk, and they would find all the streets marked by special dates in history.
Nick looked out the window at the brightly painted, neatly kept buildings and realized this was a tourist town. The taxi driver warned Anna not to wander alone; a pretty, blond woman would not be safe. She thanked him and asked about the signs that hung on every wall and billboard.
“We have government elections this month. Those are all campaign signs. There is always violence during this time, so it is best to be careful. The communists are trying to find control once again.” He looked through the rearview mirror at Buck and Nick. “We always have people from your State Department that come here this time of year. You guys from the CIA?” He eyed them suspiciously, then cracked a broad smile and laughed.
Buck laughed and looked at Nick. “No, just tourist-O’s,” he said, affecting a Spanish accent, which made Anna laugh. With his military background, Buck understood the CIA and U.S. military were frequent and unpublished visitors to Central America.
The taxi pulled up to the Hotel Casona de La Isla, a yellow building with bright blue railings on the balconies of each room. Inside, the lobby was decorated in the colorful Maya weavings of bright blues, yellows, and greens.
A young woman at the desk greeted them warmly and gave them keys to their rooms. Buck and Nick shared a room, and Anna had her own. After the taxi driver’s warning, Buck was relieved their rooms were adjacent.
“You guys want to meet up in ten?” Buck asked. “I’ll find someone to run us up to Tikal, and we can go next door for lunch before we go.”
“Okay.” Nick sniffed at his shirt. “I don’t mind changing my shirt after that plane ride.”
“Tikal is about eighty klicks from here.”
Anna looked puzzled. “Klicks?”
“Oh, sorry. Old habits die hard. Kilometers. Eighty kilometers.”
Nick saw the take-charge personality of an alert drill sergeant coming out in Buck. He was glad Buck was with him.
CHAPTER 42
* * *
Modern Slavery
Suk was angry. He was glad to see the girl was alive, but Hwang and Cho had gone too far this time. Her left eye was swollen shut and her black hair was matted and tangled. Suk gave the girl one of his T-shirts to replace her torn clothing.
He grabbed a large wad of cash to silence the brothel boss and helped the girl walk to the SUV. Cho and Hwang were passed out on the floor. It was everything he could do to restrain himself from slitting their throats.
The brothel was across the bridge in Flores in the center of the tourist area. Suk pulled to the front of the club where two girls in miniskirts stood smoking. He reached across the young girl and pushed her door open. Slowly, supporting her weight on the door, she lowered herself off the seat to the pavement. Without making eye contact, she turned and put out her hand for payment. The beating she had taken was minor compared to the one her boss would inflict if she returned without cash.
Suk handed her the stack of bills. “I’m sorry.”
He watched her pull herself up the stairway railing and disappear into the dark club. The smoking girls who did nothing to help their workmate tried to entice him. He shook his head and pulled away from the curb. He drove a block away and stopped in front of the yellow and red DHL storefront. He had received e-mail confirmation that morning that the package had arrived, and he hoped for good news.
The man behind the international shipping counter gave him the envelope, and Suk ripped it open before reaching the door. It was good news indeed. The one-page note smuggled through Seoul informed him that Kwon had received the vial, and the initiative was progressing well.
He sat in the SUV and read the line over and over again about the rewards awaiting him and wondered if the rewards would ever happen. He longed for a different life. Before he had sent the vial, he’d thought about asking for an advance, but didn’t because such brazenness could be a death sentence. North Korea took great pride in infiltrating all countries with agents, and the agents spied on other agents. Any sign of disobedience would be met with doom.
He dreamed of living the rest of his life on a peaceful, tropical island somewhere. He’d even be happy to stay in Guatemala. Living outside of North Korea was infinitely better than living in his mother country.
CHAPTER 43
* * *
Tikal
Miguel, their tour guide, turned out to be the cousin of the receptionist at the front desk. He was polite and spoke excellent English. His small van was spotless, and he drove carefully enough, allowing them to enjoy the scenery.
With his dark Latino looks and relaxed personality, Miguel appeared to be a few years older than Anna, and the two hit it off well. A bit too well for Buck’s comfort, so when Miguel asked Anna to sit in front with him, Buck suggested otherwise and sat himself down in the front passenger seat next to the guide. He gave Miguel a protective father’s nod.
“Where did you learn your English?” Nick asked.
“My father and mother divorced, and my father moved to Texas. I lived with him in Houston for three years. I moved back to Guatemala last year to help my mother. She has breast cancer and not sure she has much time left.” His voice caught.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Anything we can do?”
&nbs
p; “No, but thank you.”
Nick liked Miguel already. He was smart and sincere.
As they passed the east end of Lake Petén Itzá, Nick admired the emerald-green water. He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Miguel watching him.
“Lago Petén Itzá is twenty miles long, three miles wide, and about 500 feet deep,” the tour guide said. “A dive team was here last year and found many Maya relics along the northern shoreline. You will see some of them in the museum at Tikal.”
Nick recognized the name of the small town they passed through at the far end of the lake, El Remate, and it hit him how real this had become. This was the impoverished area where Maria and little Danilo came from.
Miguel looked at his watch. “We will be to Tikal in about twenty minutes. That gives us a bit over four hours before the National Park closes. Is there anything specific you want to see during your time? How much do you know about the Maya?”
“I know very little, but Anna knows quite a bit.”
Miguel looked at Anna in the rearview mirror and smiled. Buck cleared his throat to remind him to focus on the road.
“We are proud of the archaeological discoveries of Tikal, or Yax Mutal, as it was originally thought to be called,” Miguel said.
“Yak Mutal?” Anna asked.
“The first Mutal. No one is sure what it means,” he said. “Tikal was the name it was given after it was discovered in the mid-1800s. Tikal means the place of the voices.” He smiled at her in the mirror and, seeing her interest, continued.
“Tikal was the capital to the most powerful kingdoms of the ancient Maya spanning the period between 400 BC to 900 AD.”
“How many people lived here during that time?”
MAYA HOPE, a medical thriller - The Dr. Nicklaus Hart series 1 Page 22