Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday, April 27, 1988
Everything was quiet at the school. There was no singing or chanting, no band playing, and no children. Around noon Lloyd and Bob arrived laden with food—chunks of raw meat fresh from the open market, cold cuts, crusty rolls of bread, cheese, four bottles of wine, plus the ultimate luxury: paper towels! Bob proudly announced that he'd haggled over the price of the paper towels for ten minutes and gotten it down to five dollars for the roll—a real bargain.
I told them about Dan and Jennifer's decision to back out, and Lloyd's face clouded.
"Well," he said with forced cheerfulness, "we'll try again tomorrow anyway." Then they told me that they had found out that the son of the chief of police attended the school. In fact, the chief had been at the parents' meeting the previous week.
"I imagine he'd be pretty insulted if somebody tried to kidnap a child out of his own son's school," Lloyd said. "He'd probably use all the resources at his disposal to catch whoever dared to do such a thing."
It was much later that I learned how they'd found out about the police chief—through the taxi driver they had hired to drive the getaway car. Bob had been telling the driver for several days to be in front of the apartment building at 8:15 A.M., ostensibly to "pick up some people." And afterward Bob would tell him, "Not today after all."
The day before, the taxi driver was parked in front of the building as usual. As he watched the children going into the school, he had idly remarked to Bob, "You're planning to kidnap one of those children, aren't you?" That's when he told Bob about the police chief and his son and added that the chief was a good friend of his. Lloyd gave the driver enough money to take his wife and family on a vacation for a couple of weeks and threatened to kill him if he returned before then.
I didn't know if Lloyd would have carried out his threat, or if it was just talk to scare the taxi driver. I never would have condoned such a thing. In fact, that was one of the conditions I laid down when I first talked to Lloyd: no one was to get hurt. The incident demonstrated how little control I really had over the whole thing.
That morning we discussed the new plan.
"Remember," Lloyd said, "you have no more than thirty seconds to get them out."
I would go down the ramp just ahead of Jane and Michael. Once I was out of sight of the street and around the corner, I'd look up at the window of the apartment for a signal from Lloyd. If Federico walked down with the children, Lloyd would cross his forearms, and I was to hide in the bathroom until the coast was clear. If he didn't, Lloyd would hold up his arms in the signal for a touchdown and I was to go up the ramp and intercept them.
It was simple, and, to my relief, didn't involve the use of two-way radios. I had never felt confident about the radios. For one thing, they were on a frequency that could be overheard on any other short-wave radio within transmitting distance, including those that would surely be at the Military Police Headquarters across the street. Second, we didn't know if they would transmit through the thick walls of the school building. Third, I didn't have much faith in technology. What if they malfunctioned at a crucial moment? Too many things could go wrong.
Around six o'clock that night, just as the President returned to his residence down the street amid the sirens of his military escort, Dan and Jennifer arrived. They were delighted with the food that the men had brought. There was no tension from the night before. I didn't harbor any resentment about their decision, and they were kinder than ever, maybe to make up for it.
The next morning I woke up feeling strangely calm. Lloyd arrived and took up his position by the curtains, and we waited for Guy's phone call. He would be watching from the Crillon Hotel for Federico and the children to leave. He called about ten minutes ahead of schedule so we'd be sure to get a telephone line through, always an iffy proposition in La Paz. Lloyd was worried about eavesdroppers listening in, so Guy and I carried on a phony conversation about selling wedding dresses for export—a topic I knew nothing about. Suddenly in mid-sentence the line went dead. I shook the receiver.
"Hello?" I punched the hang-up button repeatedly. Nothing.
"Is anything wrong?" Lloyd asked.
"The line just went dead."
"Try to call him again."
I dialed the hotel again. The operator answered. After a pause, she said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong, but I can't get a line through to that room. Would you like to leave a message?"
"No, thank you." I hung up and told Lloyd what had happened.
He cursed softly. "We'll wait five minutes and if he doesn't call back, head for the school anyway."
I sat by the phone, tense, as the minutes crawled by. Guy didn't call back. Lloyd looked at his watch.
"Go!"
I was out the door and tripping down the three flights of stairs. Then I started up the driveway to the street, all the while keeping an eye out for Federico or his Jeep. A truck was stopped at the entrance to the street and I couldn't see around it. Finally it turned into the street. The coast was clear. The guard seemed to take no notice as I walked past him. I reached the bottom of the ramp and saw that the children were already lined up to file into the school. I was in plain sight of them.
I turned to look up at the window. Lloyd was standing there with his forearms crossed. Abort. I ran quickly down the ten or twelve steps into the schoolyard and darted into the bathroom. Just as I shut myself into the stall at the far end, the bell rang shrilly. Overhead I could hear the children tramping upstairs to class. Then I heard footsteps approaching in the bathroom. There was a sudden rap on the stall door. I froze. The door pushed open—it was Bob.
"Do you have the kids?" he puffed, his face red from exertion. I shook my head. "Come on. Let's get out of here!" and he disappeared out the door. I peeked outside. Children were still filing past. Michael and Jane could still be out there, and I couldn't risk their seeing me. I waited until the shuffling died down, then as casually as I could, walked back up the ramp. The gate was shut, but the guard was still there. He gave me an incurious glance and opened the gate. “Gracias,” I said and smiled.
My heart thumped. What had gone wrong this time? Back at the apartment, Lloyd explained. Just after I'd left the apartment, Federico and the kids had arrived.
"And," Lloyd said, "Federico parked his Jeep at the entrance to the driveway. There was a truck there, and that's why I didn't see him before. He was still there when you came out." He shook his head in disbelief. "If it hadn't been for the truck blocking the way, he'd have seen you."
Lucky break. I only hoped that Jane and Michael hadn't seen me either. I could imagine them going home that day and telling their father, "Guess who we saw today!"
In a few minutes, Bob and Guy joined us. Guy explained that the phone in his hotel room had had a frayed cord for some time. It was a freakish coincidence that it had chosen that moment to snap. Lloyd paced the floor.
"Time is running out. We've got to pull this off tomorrow. We can't fool around here any longer. Somebody's going to catch on to us." He looked at me. "We'll go for it again in the morning. If it doesn't work then, you'll wait in the bathroom until the ten o'clock morning recess. If you can't do it at recess, then we'll do it after school."
To get them at recess I would have to go into the schoolyard and take them out through the interior of the school, leaving by the front door. The outside gates were kept locked except in the morning when the children arrived and in the afternoon when they left.
"You'll have to tell me how to get from the back door through to the front," I told Bob. In an old building like Amor de Dios, it wouldn't be a straight shoot. He scratched his head.
"There's a whole network of little halls and stairways. And the hell of it is that you'd have to pass by some classrooms too. It would be better if I was waiting inside to lead you and the kids through. Besides, you'll have to pass by the receptionist at the front desk. I could give her some story or try to distract her while you got
the kids out."
Lloyd said, "But if for some reason you're not there, she's going to have to know how to do it by herself." He looked at me. "Where's that diagram you drew of the school?"
"In my suitcase. I'll go get it." I smoothed it out on the table. Bob leaned over it.
"Don't touch it," Lloyd warned him. "We can't leave our fingerprints on anything. If somebody gets hold of this, the only thing they'll find is Cassie's fingerprints. Nobody's to know we were ever here."
Pointing with a pencil Bob traced a route up the back stairs and through the school. He gave me the pencil and I drew in stairs and hallways where he indicated them.
"Okay, if we have to do it after school, we can go through the gate. That'll be tricky, though. Federico always arrives before the children get out of school, and he waits outside for them. He'd have to be delayed somehow." Lloyd took the pencil and drew a line from the schoolyard and along the south wall of the school, the opposite side from the ramp they usually went up and down.
"There's a gate on that side, too, but nobody ever seems to use it. There's no guard there. We need to find out if it's kept locked or not. If you can come down this ramp and intercept the children when they come out of school for recess," he drew an invisible line with the pencil eraser, "then you can leave by going up the ramp on the other side of the school. He won't be looking for them there."
"But everybody will see me do it. All the teachers and kids will be out in the courtyard, too."
Lloyd set the pencil down. "Well, we don't have a whole lot of options at this point. If it comes to that, we'll just have to do it that way."
I nodded. But my stomach was in knots.
After they left, and against Lloyd's instructions, I called my father.
"Cassie! Where are you calling from?"
It was so good to hear his voice! My family and the world I'd left a few days ago seemed light years away.
"We all want to know what's going on. Your brothers and grandmother have been calling." When I'd left McAllen, I'd told Daddy I'd be gone only a couple of days. That had been eleven days ago.
"Daddy, nothing's happening right now. We've already tried to get them twice and couldn't. But tomorrow is the day. I'll either get Jane and Michael back tomorrow or my next phone call will be from prison," I joked.
He didn't laugh. "When are we going to know something?"
"Don't expect to hear from me for at least a couple of days. If we get Jane and Michael, I won't be able to make any phone calls until we're safely out of Bolivia." I didn't tell him how slim our chances were.
"Okay. Be careful. I love you."
"I love you, too." It was hard to hang up, to give up that tie to home and safety.
Later that morning I watched Jane and Michael at recess. They rushed toward each other and hugged happily, then ran to slide down a banister. The other kids paid no attention to them. They were foreigners here, different, and in all likelihood didn't fit in. Michael was probably too young to care, but being shut out would cause Jane a lot of pain. For the umpteenth time, I was thankful they were close.
They used to talk to each other at night after they were in bed. They'd discuss the events of the day, and sometimes they'd have giggle fits over something. Michael would ask Jane things like why do tennis balls have hair, and she'd dispense her big sister wisdom on the subject. I wondered what they talked to each other about now, in the dark, cold nights.
After lunch Roberto paid me another visit. This time he came alone. He sat down uncomfortably and began talking again about the predicament that FAI would be in should the police investigate and find out that I had used the FAI apartment as our base of operations. It was clear what was coming next. Once again I helped him out.
"What you're trying to say is I have to leave."
He nodded unhappily. And once again I told Roberto that I understood. The script of the day before was played out again, but this time I was being kicked out. He asked me to leave by evening, wished me luck, and left.
I didn't see any reason to wait around until evening. I didn't want to be there when Dan and Jennifer returned for lunch, didn't want to see their apologetic faces or hear any more explanations. I was tired of sympathy. I threw my few things together and then called Lloyd.
"I need to leave here. Right now. As soon as you can come get me."
He didn't ask any questions. "We'll be right there."
I was angry. I had never asked for their help, but Dan and Jennifer had volunteered it. Then, as soon as they'd realized that there were risks involved—risks I'd warned them about in the first place—they'd backed out. Once again our plans were thrown out of kilter and would have to be reworked. My chances of getting Jane and Michael back seemed more remote than ever.
I took my small gray duffle bag in one hand and snatched up my purse and jacket in the other, leaving behind my suitcase, along with some clothes and other dispensable items. I took one last look at the school. Then I locked the door behind me and went downstairs to wait, sitting on the curb in the parking lot.
In a few minutes Bob drove up and bounded out, a big smile on his face. He hugged me, then took my bag. He didn't have to ask what had happened.
"It's okay. This is just a minor setback," he winked. "You've still got us, and we haven't failed yet."
I slid onto the backseat next to Guy. He patted my arm and said, "We're gonna get those kids back."
Even Lloyd was trying to be optimistic. "The apartment doesn't really matter. We're just back to our original plan, that's all."
We drove across town to the Hotel Gloria, where Bob checked me in under his name. Then we had lunch in the top-floor restaurant. The men chatted about the city. I was sitting with my back to the other diners in the restaurant. I glanced around. Businessmen would be arriving soon for lunch. Even with my wig on, I felt publicly exposed, open to discovery at any moment. But the men were in no hurry to leave.
Lloyd began discussing plans for the following morning. This time, without the apartment to signal from, we would have to use the two-way radios. And they had arranged for a Bolivian girl to dress in a school uniform and intercept Jane and Michael on the ramp. Bob and Lloyd began arguing about the details.
Guy gave me a weary smile. "Boy, I get tired of listening to those two."
Finally, lunch over, Bob and I took the elevator down a few floors to my room which was registered under Bob's name. How many rooms had I stayed in since arriving in La Paz? I wondered. I'd lost count. The room was small and chilly, but it had a carpet, and the bathroom fixtures were modern.
As soon as Bob left, I looked for a heater or thermostat. There were none. The Hotel Gloria was in a higher part of town than the Sheraton or the FAI apartment, and with each meter of altitude the temperature dropped accordingly. I called room service to ask about the advertised central heating and to request an extra blanket. A security guard posing as a maintenance man came and poked around the room, ostensibly to turn on the heat. He kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes. When he asked where Sr. Kreiler was, I gave him the secretarial story that Bob and I had agreed on earlier. It seemed plausible enough; I was sitting on the bed surrounded by papers and writing on a tablet. I answered his questions. Yes, Mr. Kreiler was staying there alone. No, I would not be spending the night. The guard left, apparently satisfied with my story. He didn't come back.
Lloyd was supposed to come by later to get me something to eat. As the evening wore on, I climbed under the bedcovers and the extra blanket and tried to concentrate on the mystery novel I'd bought in Miami. The hours ticked by. The room darkened. At one point the electricity went off for about thirty minutes. I went to the window. An entire section of town was blacked out. Then, just as inexplicably as they'd gone off, the lights came back on.
It was almost midnight when Lloyd finally arrived. (Later, I learned why it always took him so long; he'd sometimes spend hours walking around losing "tails." The Bolivian undercover agents may not have been subtle, b
ut they were persistent.)
We went to the hotel coffee shop—the restaurant was closed by that hour. As I sipped coca tea to calm my stomach, which was twisting in anticipation of what lay ahead, Lloyd became talkative. He was definitely a night person. The later it got, the more he seemed to relax and loosen up. He told me fascinating things about his career in the FBI and about his current position as the head of a private investigation firm. We got onto more personal topics, like what makes for a happy marriage and even what type of diet he was on.
It was well into the morning when I finally crawled into bed.
Chapter Sixteen
Friday, April 29, 1988
Bob forgot to give me a wake-up call, but I woke up at the appointed time anyway. It was 6:20 A.M. I dressed in my traveling clothes—faithful old jeans, white knit shirt—and then brushed my hair. This time I wouldn't be wearing the wig, at least until we got Jane and Michael. I packed my duffle bag and then waited for Bob. He knocked on the door just before 8 A.M.
The Blazer was parked down the block. Waiting inside was Karina, the Bolivian teenager who was going to help us. She was already dressed in the white school uniform. Bob tossed a two-way radio into my lap and started to explain how to operate it as he began to drive. Morning rush-hour traffic was in full swing.
"Gotta get gas first. I was in line last night to buy some and they ran out before they got to me," he griped. "Anyway"—he was talking fast, in Spanish and English, so neither Karina nor I would miss anything—"about the radios, as soon as you get into the bathroom, I'll time it. I'll test them to make sure they'll work through those walls." He honked the horn and nosed into the next lane. "I'll say, 'Testing, one-two-three,' and then you push down the red button and say, 'Four-five-six,' and that way I'll know you can hear me."
Where Are My Children? The True Story of a Mother Who Risked Her Life to Rescue Her Kidnapped Children Page 14