Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (11 page)

 Then she turned
to Louise.

            “Miss Louise, your
parents are not at a theater. Your father is now on location as part of the
search team to find Abbi’s parents,” she said. “Your mother is staying in a
hotel, helping with communications there.”

“How do you know
that?” Louise asked, obviously skeptical.

“You saw my badge.
Need I say more? May I have a word alone with Miss Abeni?”

            It seemed that the
strange woman Abbi thought she knew as Nanny Fanny had strange powers: the
ability to transform into different people and hypnotize others. Abbi stared
wide-eyed at Louise who mechanically backed away into the kitchen.

TASK
FORCES AT WORK

In the first nine years since its
inception, the Innocence Lost National Initiative has resulted in the
development of 47 dedicated task forces and working groups throughout the U.S.
involving federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies working in tandem
with U.S. Attorney’s Offices.

            As Louise left the
room, the woman A/K/A Nanny Fanny stood perfectly silent.

            “You’d better sit down,
Abeni.” She waited as Abbi seated herself on the overstuffed couch. “I’ve
received word that your mother has been kidnapped.”

            “Then it’s true!” Abbi
said, staring at the woman.

            “There, there,
Sugarlump,” the woman said and sat down beside Abbi to give her a gentle hug. “I
work for the FBI, as do your parents. Mr. Pelletier, Lowell and Louise’s
father, works for the CIA. He’s an analyst. You’ve probably guessed that
there’s an FBI search crew on it, but they’re not the only ones. Thank
goodness, your mother has her phone’s GPS device turned on but, if not, but we
have another trick up our sleeves. I expect they’ve taken it from her by now,
but we’ve been able to get a general location. It appears that she’s being
moved.”

            “Where to?” asked Abbi.
“Who’s doing it?”

            “We’re not sure where
they’re going. A popular destination is Maryland. The hope is to stop them
before they get there, but that’s a very tricky maneuver. We have the transnational
cooperation of the Highway Patrol and other law enforcement agencies.”

“Do you know who
has her?”

“Our best guess is
that it’s a branch of Nuestra Madre. You’ve heard of them?”

           
“No,” Abbi said.
“Oh, wait! Let me show you something!”

            Abbi rushed upstairs
and grabbed the folder with drawings in it.

            “Look!” she said,
throwing the folder down on the living room stand. Abbi showed the woman stylized
drawings that depicted the letters NM.

            The woman leafed
through them.

            “Holy shit! Excuse me. How
did you get hold of these?”

            “Mom left them out on
her desk, just loose, like maybe on purpose? I figured she wanted me to find
them.”

            “Abeni, I believe
you’re right. This is very important information. That’s the flying NM, their
symbol. It helps confirm what we’ve already suspected. This is a very big and
powerful gang, not just one person acting alone. It will take the coordinated
efforts of several law enforcement agencies, including the cooperation of the
Mexican Government, for us to bring it down. This won’t happen fast. We just
need to peel one potato at a time. Excuse me a moment.”

The woman suddenly
looked dark, darker than the deep brown shade of her skin, and made a quick
phone call.

            Meanwhile, Abbi looked
over the various designs. A shiver went up and down her spine as the woman
passed the information on to an unknown entity on the other end of the call.

            When she turned back to
Abbi, she said, “What is now a transnational criminal organization started
small, as a teen street gang in South America. The initial purpose was to gain
freedom for the poor people in their country who were being exploited.”

“What do you mean?”

“Young people were
forced to work for very low wages, among other things. The street gang blamed
the government for receiving pay-offs to look the other way when landowners
broke the labor laws. Some of the kids who worked for the wealthy farmers and
land barons became rebellious. They took on the landowners, who were denying
people their rights. Soon, the workers began a sort of commune. In order to do
that, they needed to enlist some help. They raised money to organize their
cause. Part of their money went to pay off corrupt politicians.”

“To look the other
way,” Abbi said. “That’s what they were opposed to.”

“Basically, yes. Then
they needed more money. And more. As the nature of the gang changed, violence
became a driving force, and freedom became a forgotten cause. Younger members’
ideas ran into conflict with the way older members had done things. The money
didn’t seem to come in fast enough.”

“So they turned to
crime?”

“They were already
involved in crime, but the kinds of crimes got worse. What happened was a
division, and things changed fast. This new faction, NM2, enlisted the help of
young girls as well as young boys, and the NM2 business model became one driven
by violence. They moved quickly into underprivileged areas of the United States
where there were dense populations of Latinos. They currently look for children
and young adults that fit a certain profile. Then, by means of ‘grooming’, they
bring in their victims.”

            “What does that have to
do with my mother?”

            “Abbi, she got in their
way. Your mother was in the midst of a successful rescue that threatened to
expose them. We believe your mother is in very grave danger. These people stop
at nothing. I don’t want to scare you but recently a pregnant girl just your
age got away from them and threatened to talk to authorities. Members of this
gang found her, took her to a forested area, and stabbed her to death.”

            Abbi hid her face in
her hands.

            “This doesn’t sound
good at all,” Abbi said, her voice muffled by her hands.

“It isn’t. Furthermore,
your father has suffered a serious injury and is hospitalized. Thank goodness,
we have him moved to a hospital in Washington, D.C. so at least he is nearby.
If we can act fast, we can also rescue your mother.”

“We?” Abbi asked.

At that moment
Lowell walked in from his trip to the drugstore.

“Mrs. Hightower,
you’re already here? Fast trip!”

Abbi looked at the
woman she knew as Nanny Fanny.

“You’re HT?” she
asked. “How…”

“Long story short.
Once upon a time I served as a key witness in a federal case. As a result, I
had to be relocated. Witness Protection, new identity, the whole thing. One
saving grace, FBI took me from the field and set me up at headquarters. Hardly
low profile. Although technically I had to break ties with family and friends or
risk being killed or hurting innocent people, we were still working together. To
keep you safe, I kept my distance. That was the hardest part. Things are rarely
as they seem.”

“I’m getting the
picture,” Abbi said.

“We should bring
Louise downstairs. Can you get her, Abbi? Lowell, how soon can you be ready to
leave?”

“Need a few
minutes to finish packing.”

If Louise went
upstairs, Abbi hadn’t even noticed. The discussion had her full attention.

It appeared that
Lowell would be leaving with Mrs. Hightower. The two talked quietly while Abbi
went to get Louise but strained to listen to their conversation as she walked
to the stairs.

“How soon do you
need me?” Lowell asked.

“Ride back with me.
Soon, tonight, in a couple of hours. I’ll come back and pick you up. We’re
starting Operation Missing Shoe.”

“That’s your
internship?” Abbi said, rushing down to see Lowell.

“Crazy, isn’t it?”
he said.

Louise was behind
Abbi and still obviously wary of Mrs. Hightower.

“Yes? You wanted
me?”

“Louise,” Mrs.
Hightower said. “I was expecting a visitor here today. Has anyone other than me
come here? I was hoping to be here earlier. She would have spoken to me since
your parents were gone.”

“No. No one,” she
said, looking at Abbi.

Abbi looked at
Louise and nodded.

“Yes,” Abbi said,
starting to point out the window. “There was this really odd girl who just
stood out there across the street and looked over here at the house.”

“Describe her.”

“Dark hair. Tall,
thin,” Abbi said. “I couldn’t really tell her age. Maybe in her teens, maybe
twenties, pretty?”

“Thin,” Louise
added. “Like VERY! And tattoos. And there was the blue mini-van.”

“Yeah. It was also
at my house when someone broke the window and came in.”

“Oh, yes. That. You
ladies are a wealth of information. But I was looking for a very different
young lady. I have to leave now. I know it’s getting late in the day, but I’ll
return in a couple of hours. When I return, we’ll sit and chat a little, and
then I’ll be taking Lowell with me.”

“Today?” Louise
asked.

“Yes. Louise, you
will be Abeni’s constant companion. You understand? You are not to leave her
side. Not for anyone or for anything.”

Then Mrs.
Hightower’s attention turned back to Abbi. She searched for something in her
substantial handbag.

“Before I go, I
should tell you, Abbi, we think you can help. Should you choose to accept this
mission, here’s a list of things to pack.” She handed a paper to Abbi. “I
really believe you’ll want to accept, so start packing. How do you feel about flying?”

           
Tina walked as
fast as she could straight to the apartment, glad she had written down the
street names and turns. The taxi ride had made it seem closer than it really
was. The people in the car, with their loud arguing and that familiar voice,
had made her afraid to stop for food.

There was very
little to put away in her bedroom’s walk-in closet, just a few items of
clothing and some girl stuff.  The closet could make someone a nice little
bedroom. She snapped the empty suitcase closed. The sparsely-furnished
apartment echoed the snapping sound. Then Tina took her mother’s quilt, folded
it neatly and put it in the corner of her bedroom. That would give her a
make-shift bed, better than the mats she’d been sleeping on, but she didn’t
ever want to think about that again.

Tina took a couple
of books and a journal to the kitchen table. She wanted to relax, forget about
things that kept her edgy. She also needed to start the important task of filling
in a backstory for her new identity, kind of like writing a diary, only
backwards.

Maybe she and her
father would try to get some furniture when he got back. Work always seemed to
come first. That’s the way he was. No wonder he didn’t like making this move. The
apartment was nice, not really too small, and painted in soothing pastel colors.
Tina looked forward to making it their home.

She sat down to
write in her journal and started by taking out her Social Security card. She
studied her new name. This would take some getting used to. Mostly, except for
not liking her name, it was exciting and fun to start over. She just needed to
be believable. Then, once she believed it, she would become Tina. She could
make it all work.

A sudden knock at
the door brought an unexpected rush of panic. Tina was afraid to go to the
door. She lapsed into her recent past, remembering a nasty, angry man who was
standing on the other side, impatiently waiting to get to her. Her hands began
shaking uncontrollably. There was no place to hide!

She started to run
back to her bedroom to hide in the closet. Then, after abruptly realizing where
she was, Tina mustered up her courage. Carefully she approached the door to look
through its peep hole. Surprised by what she saw, she said, “Who are you?”

“I’m Mrs.
Hightower. Can you see this?”

The woman held up
a badge that looked very much like the nice man’s I.D. badge and like Miss
Shoe’s badge, not the business card that said Fred’s Boots Inc.

“Yes,” Tina said
through the door. “But I don’t know you.”

“I’m here because
of Miss Shoe. Remember her? She was on my team. Do you mind if I come in,
Tina?”

“You knew Miss
Shoe? She needs help!”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

Tina carefully
opened the door. The smell of fried chicken came wafting in with the woman.
From the folds of her outfit, Mrs. Hightower pulled out a take-out bucket.

“You’ve had a long
trip. I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

“You brought
food?”

 “Yes, and lots of
it! Is your father here?”

“No. He went to
the police station where he’s going to work.”

“I see. Well, I
don’t have the luxury of waiting. Let’s just close the door and get comfy. I
need to ask you some questions. You’re in no trouble. We need help in finding
Miss Shoe.”

Mrs. Hightower
looked around, apparently looking for a place to sit.

“We can sit in the
kitchen,” Tina suggested.

Mrs. Hightower
allowed Tina to lead the way.

“Nice place you
have here! Somewhat barren, but lovely. This apartment should serve you well.”

 Tina chose a
piece of chicken when it was offered.

“Thanks,” she said.
“I think I really was about to starve.”

“There’s also
mashed potatoes and gravy. It’s all yours. Help yourself.”

Mrs. Hightower put
a pen on the table, and then took out a notepad.

“Tell me about
Miss Shoe.”