Back on Solid Ground (2 page)

“We did it,
little brother,” he said with a huge smile on his face.

Once the
plane had leveled off, Niki got out of his seat and approached the girl. Her
body was slumped over the armrest.  He unbuckled her seatbelt and uncinched the
top of the burlap sack.  He tried to pull the sack down off her face, but her
hair was matted with blood and grime, and was stuck to the sack.  He gave a
little tug and a clump of hair came away with the bag.  

“We have a
problem here,” he told his companions, who were all watching him with unbridled
amusement. “Any suggestions?” Niki asked.

“Cut it,” Eli
said decisively.  

“Oh, that’s
not good,” Carlos said with trepidation.  “Women love their hair.  I think she
would be very, very angry,” he said knowingly.

“Well, do you
have a better suggestion?” Eli asked.

“I don’t
know,” said Carlos. “What if we soak her head?” 

“There’s no
way we can haul her ass in there and fit her head in the sink,” Eli said. 
Carlos decided to drop the cause and remained silent, and Eli took it as a sign
of agreement. He scrounged around in one of the bags, pulled out a pair of
scissors, and held them out to Niki with a big smile on his face. “But if she
lives to talk about this, I’ll swear it wasn’t my idea,” he laughed.

Niki thought
about it for a second then took the scissors and started snipping at Stacy’s
hair, pulling the sack away bit by bit to free her face.  The parts of her face
that were not covered with filth were pale and clammy; the mesh left a
miniature checkerboard pattern on her cheek.  Together, Carlos and Niki cut the
rest of the bag off of Stacy’s body.  She was wearing a short skirt and a
blouse, and her body was covered with dried blood and vomit, mixed with dirt, dust
and fibers from the burlap. Niki gave a cursory look over Stacy’s arms and legs
and didn’t see any obvious sign of a bullet wound. 

“Somebody get
me something to clean her up with,” Niki said to the group.  “She’s so filthy,
I’ll never be able to find a bullet hole.”

Jason went to
the back of the plane and returned with towels and a bottle of water. He handed
Niki a wet towel and Niki wiped at the caked-on mess on Stacy’s face and neck. 
He carefully stripped her shirt away where it had become plastered to her skin
and pulled it up enough to expose her stomach. 
And there it was.
 

She had been
shot on her right side at waist level.  It had not been a direct hit, but a
bullet had definitely pierced her side.  He turned her over and saw where the
bullet had entered.  It had gone clean through from the back to the front. 
Basically a flesh wound, but it had bled a lot and was still oozing. 

“Well, she
was right,” Niki proclaimed.  “One of us assholes
did
shoot her.”  The
other three moved in to check it out. 

“What do you
think?” Niki asked Carlos. 

Carlos was
the medical authority, even though he had no formal training.  He took a closer
look.  “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said.  “For now, we need to stop the
bleeding.  Let me see what I can do.” 

He grabbed the
first aid kit and went to work cleaning and bandaging Stacy’s wound.   He
looked at his watch.  Just over an hour had passed since they had been in the
bank.  It seemed like much longer.  Unlike his counterpart, Carlos’ thrill did
not come from the heist itself.  He was in it strictly for the money and would
have gladly foregone the action.  He finished his first aid duties and made a
lame attempt at cleaning up Stacy’s arms and legs.

Stacy was in
and out of consciousness.  A couple of times while Carlos was working on her,
she had tried to open her eyes.  Carlos would stop what he was doing and try to
get Stacy to talk to him, but then she would be out again and Carlos would
continue his work.  He had just finished working on her when she opened her
eyes.  

Stacy could
hear the humming of the engine and looked around, confused.   She looked at the
stranger beside her.  He was a nice looking Latin man with chiseled features
and a smile that reached his kind eyes. 

“Where am I?”
Stacy asked groggily.

“Don’t worry,
Miss Trent.  You’re going to be fine,” Carlos said in a soothing voice.  “Just
try to relax and get some sleep.  You’ll be just fine,” he said, patting her
hand.

“I don’t feel
good,” she said in a small voice.  “I think I’m going to throw up.”  For the
life of her, she couldn’t remember what she was doing on this plane, and she
was going to be mortified if she got airsick.

“I’ll get you
something,” he said, again patting her hand before he got up.  He returned with
an airsick bag and offered it to Stacy, then leaned into the aisle behind him
and stuck his finger down his throat, gesturing to the others that she was
about to puke. Carlos moved away to give her some privacy, and when it sounded
like she was finished, he returned and sat down beside her.  He took the bag
and handed it to Niki in the row behind him.

“Feel
better?” Carlos asked her.

She shook her
head
no
. “Where am I?” she asked

Carlos saw
her eyes for the first time and a chill ran down his spine.   It was the
color.  The girl’s eyes were as rare a shade of green as he had ever seen, yet
he had seen it almost every day for years on the man sitting right behind him. 
“I’ll be damned, Niki,” Carlos said in awe.  “The girl’s your
media naranja.
”

Once again,
they all gathered around the girl, this time to see what Carlos was expounding about. 
Stacy looked blankly from one man to the other, looking for a familiar face.

They all saw
it, including Niki, but only his brother spoke:  “Wow!  Her eyes are the same
color as yours,” he told Niki in amazement. He turned to Carlos, “So, what’s with
the
media naranja
thing?” 

Carlos had
been raised in Mexico by his grandmother, a Culandera, who had taught Carlos
everything she knew about her craft.  He was a child prodigy when it came to
medicine, and although his means were unconventional, the results of his herbal
potions and tinctures were impressive.  Part of his grandmother’s teachings
included symbolic interpretation, and Carlos often quoted his grandmother’s
adage on one topic or another.  At first, his three friends had been skeptical
of Carlos’ superstitious beliefs and premonitions, but more often than not, his
prophecies had come true, and Carlos’ insight into “another realm” had become
an integral part of their organization. 

“According to
Abuelita,” Carlos answered, “when a rare pair of eyes meets itself in another,
the two have found their soul mate.”   

He was answering
Eli’s question, but Carlos was looking directly at Niki when he said it. Niki
averted his eyes and Carlos could tell his friend was irritated.  He also knew
that Niki would take stock in what he said, maybe not immediately, but once he had
time to digest the information.  Carlos knew that nothing more would be said
about it then, but that Niki would bring it up at some point again in private. 

As far back
as Niki could remember, people had commented about the unique color of his
eyes.  Whenever his family went to Mexico, people were constantly saying this
or that about his
ojos verdes
– his green eyes – and touching his face
to ward off
ojo,
the evil eye
.
Niki took another look at Stacy’s
eyes before returning to his seat.  It was like looking in a mirror.

“They’re
nothing like mine,” he said, sitting down hard in his seat.  All he needed was
for Carlos to go ranting and raving about their hostage being Niki’s soul
mate.  He could only imagine where that might lead, and he didn’t even want to
think about it.  He certainly didn’t intend to talk about it. 

“Whose plane
is this and where are we going?” Stacy said, unsuccessfully trying to muster
some authority into her voice. “And who are you people?  How did I get here?” 
She was very frustrated at her memory failing her so completely, and she tried
to think it through. 
Do I know who I am?
she asked herself.
 
Yes,
I’m Stacy Trent
.  Okay, so she knew that much.  But as hard as she tried,
she couldn’t remember anything that led up to her being on this plane. 
Surely
I would not have gotten on a plane with complete strangers
, she reasoned,
so
I must know at least one of these men
.  But not one looked the least bit
familiar.  She could feel herself about to cry.  
I’ve lost my mind,
she
thought.

“I don’t want
you to worry about anything right now, Miss Trent,” said Carlos.  “I’m going to
give you a little something to help you sleep and you will feel much better
when you wake up. I promise you,” he added.  He took her hand and placed two
small capsules in it, then handed her a bottle of water. 

“What’s your
name again?” Stacy asked.  She sipped the water and swallowed the pills. 

“It’s
Carlos.  My name is Carlos,” he smiled.  “Now close your eyes and get some
sleep.”

Stacy conked
out almost immediately.  Carlos took the seat next to Niki, and the men
discussed the successes and failures of the mission. 

“Well, of
course ideally, there would have been no shots fired, no injuries,” Carlos said. 
“But what I want to know is . . . why is it that Americans feel compelled to be
heroes?” he asked, then he continued before Niki could answer. “I’ll tell you
why, Niki.  It’s the John Wayne syndrome.  Americans have to be heroes because
they are infected with John Wayne syndrome.”

Niki laughed
out loud. 

Carlos sat in
contemplation for several minutes, and in a changed tone of voice, continued. 
“But seriously, Niki,” he said, “there will be ramifications from today’s
events.  Political pressure on the authorities will be immense.  And when they
put it together that the girl was not taken at random, and that we got away
with more than was ever suspected, they will realize they are not dealing with
a bunch of amateurs.  It will be all out war.” 

“It is what
it is,” said Niki.

“You’re
right. What’s done is done, and there’s no point in dwelling on it,” Carlos
concluded.  “Now, onto other matters . . .  When do you meet with the client?”
Carlos asked.

“Monday,”
said Niki, rubbing his temple.  He hadn’t eaten all day and could feel a
headache coming on.  “Let’s talk about it later.  I’m going to close my eyes
for a minute.” 

“You do
that,” said Carlos, squeezing Niki’s shoulder.  “I need to stretch.”  

Carlos stood
and stretched his legs for a few minutes then sat down in a window seat.  He
looked down at the coastline and felt a swell of pride.  It was a beautiful
land, with its lush tropical foliage and turquoise water.  He sat in his seat
for the next hour, looking out the window and enjoying the solitude.

Jason slid
into the seat beside Carlos and looked out at the water below.  He was getting
that feeling they all got after any mission, almost an urgent need to be home. 
They had been away for five days and were anxious to be back on familiar
ground. “We’re almost there,” Jason said, with excitement in his voice. 

Carlos
nodded.

“I’ll wake
Niki and Eli,” said Jason.   He turned backward in his seat and smacked Eli in
the head with his pillow, then threw it at Niki, hitting him in the face. “Wake
up boys, we’re home!”

Niki threw
the pillow back at Jason, hitting him in the side of the face. “Very funny,” he
said.  He got up and stretched, and tapped his brother on the chest, “Eli! Hey,
get up.  We’re here.”

All four
peered through the small windows of the plane, and when the island came into
view, they cheered and applauded.  Jason popped a champagne cork and foam went
everywhere.  The four men raised their glasses in salute to the end of a job,
as Stacy Trent slept through the merriment, unaware that a celebration had
begun.

The plane
landed on the tiny airstrip that was nestled in the middle of the jungle. 
Carlos, Eli and Jason unloaded their belongings, leaving the girl for Niki. 

Niki looked
down at Stacy.  Their feeble attempt at cleaning her up was more noticeable
once the lights went on.  She was filthy from head to toe, especially her hair,
which they hadn’t even attempted to tackle.  She looked like something out of a
horror movie and he had a twinge of guilt.  She looked frail, and he picked her
up gently and carried her off the plane. 

The Land
Rover was parked where they had left it, just off the path to the right of the
airstrip.  Niki was the last to reach the vehicle, and all eyes were on him as
he laid Stacy down in the back. 

“Be careful
you don’t hit her head,” Carlos taunted.

“I
know
,
Carlos
,
” Niki said annoyed. “Perhaps
you
would like to carry her
in from the car?”

“No, my
friend, you are doing a fine job.  I wouldn’t want to take the pleasure away
from you,” Carlos said laughing. 

Niki climbed
into the passenger seat and Jason hit the gas. The villa was situated high on
the east side of the island and had a panoramic view of the ocean.   It was the
only structure on the island, other than the boathouse and sheds.  The crescent
shaped island was approximately five miles long and two miles at its widest
point.  The sun was about to set, and Jason was pushing hard to make it to the
villa before it went down.  He snaked around the last curve and the villa rose
up into view.  “It never ceases to amaze,” he said. 

It was a
white Mediterranean-style structure, impressive by anyone’s standards, with its
arched windows and doorways, sweeping staircases, and panoramic terraces.   On
the ground floor was a portico with huge pillars and a patio that led to an
enormous swimming pool set off to the side of the villa.  There were masses of
bougainvillea and mandevilla vines growing wild, adding bursts of color all
over the villa.