Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (18 page)

Finally the phone
call came and Scott took it on speaker phone to prove his point to Abbi.

“Scott, that is
not one of us. I repeat. He’s not one of us. Your man got delayed in Roanoke
traffic. He thinks he’s about 30 minutes out. Wait for him before you do
anything. He’s driving a white unmarked SUV.”

“What about this
guy? He appears to have the NM tattoos.”

“He could be the
real thing,” the I-T person said. “The car is a rental from Unity Car Rentals
in Roanoke. He’s probably local, probably knows the area, and may have provided
a fictitious I.D. when he rented the car. Consider him armed and dangerous.”

“Great. I’ve got
two young ladies with me.”

“Call for backup
and stay out of fire.”

“Thanks, Pell! You
came through again!”

Abbi thought about
that. Was it Pell or Pal he said? Louise perked up too and her eyes got wide.

Scott was calling
for backup when Louise asked him, “Do you know that man? The one you called
Pell?”

“Just a minute,”
he said quickly. He had an incoming call and was trying to handle both calls.

Finally, he said, “OK,
ladies. It’s about to get dicey. We have word that Miss Shoe is approaching
this state. They’re tracking her, I’m not sure how they’re doing it. Her phone
is still in Mexico.”

“Thank God!” Abbi
said with an audible sigh, thinking of her mother’s Smart Shoes. It was beyond horrible
to think her mother came close to being sold to someone in Brazil.

“That means you’re
probably going to do the drop, Miss Kowalski. If that’s the case, Big Sam will
give you details at the briefing this evening.”

Abbi’s heartbeat became
a trapped bird fluttering wildly inside her ribcage.

“OK! That’s why
I’m here! You think today?”

Scott was pulling
the SUV back onto the highway.

“Maybe. It depends
on negotiations but it’s almost 1700 hours now. We may be in our meeting while
negotiations take place. Those could last all night. A sniper unit is on the
way here. We’re going back to police headquarters to avoid any crossfire. By
the way, Miss Kowalski, you have a good eye for details. I owe you one!”

Abbi tried to
inhale deeply, breathing slowly. She needed to get her brain thinking clearly.
She wished she hadn’t eaten so much.

“I saw it too,
Scott. Does my wig look OK? Abbi took hers off,” Louise said, and shrugged at
Abbi. “And how do you know Pell?”

“That’s a lot of
questions. Pell’s a friend. The wig—who cares? That’s the least of our
concern,” Scott said. “You can’t go back to the room to get it now, Abbi. Let’s
see what Big Sam has in mind.”

           
Scott took the
girls to the law complex early. Many of the others had not yet arrived. Abbi
and Louise had their badges on and were again taken to the conference room and
seated at the large table where they were offered coffee and water by one of
the FBI staffers.

            Scott waited in the
hallway, intently talking on his phone. Abbi had hoped that he would go
retrieve her wig before this briefing began. If he didn’t, she would just try
to blend into the wallpaper. No one would even notice, except Louise of course.

            “He is so hot!” Louise
said. “I’d boink him in a heartbeat.”

            “Louise, really. Do you
even know why we’re here?” Abbi asked and added, “Drink some coffee and stuff a
doughnut in that potty mouth.”

            “Well, I would!” Louise
said.

            They both laughed.

            Suddenly, Abbi received
a beep.

            CONTACT W/ NM2
UNDERWAY. NEGOTIATING TERMS. YES!

            Abbi showed the text to
Louise.

            “That sounds like
Lowell,” Louise said.

            “Do you think?” Abbi
asked.

            At that moment Big Sam
walked into the conference room.

            The chief of police stood
up, looking at a clipboard of names from the earlier meeting.

            “I believe we’re here. Everyone’s
accounted for. Sam, the meeting is all yours.”

            “Thank you! Good to see
everyone back. We have successfully tracked Miss Shoe and opened negotiations
with the captors via a third party. I’m going to ask everyone to withhold
judgment as we move forward. Anything can happen but we want to hold off on
gunfire if at all possible. Our primary goal is simply the safe and secure
ransom/rescue transfer. Beyond that it’s icing on the cake.”

            “What about a sting
operation?”

            “If we’re just a
honeybee going after an elephant, that won’t be much impact. We’ll see how this
unfolds. First, allow me to introduce the Mexican Ambassador. He was helpful in
a recent extraction out of Mexico and may have further insights into the
workings of organized crime in Central America. I want to thank you, Mr.
Ambassador, for your help and for coming to speak with us today.”

            There was applause for
the Mexican Ambassador who stayed seated and addressed the group.

“Thank you for
having me. I can tell you this has been an embarrassment for the entire Latino
community as well as for your country. The captors realize that agreeing to our
terms is the best they can do right now. Of course, the compromise includes
some rather dangerous provisions. We anticipate the release of Miss Shoe only
if this negotiation is a success. The gang leaders are Latino. We have an
interpreter from the FBI who has worked with us and is willing to interpret for
us to secure a quick release. I believe you know her. We call her Senorita
Sobori. Senorita Sobori, please stand.”

There was obvious recognition
followed by applause as the woman who led the morning meeting shyly nodded at
them.

The ambassador
went on to tell those around the table other things about NM, hinting at the
necessity of child labor to move the countries forward and the current dire
life expectancy of people working in the outlying regions of South America.
Although sad, he said, it was a fact of life.

Told from his
perspective, the story of NM did not fully correlate with the reports her
mother had written after her months of indepth investigation, but Abbi realized
that the focus of her mother’s notes had been on the rebellious faction NM2 and
their reckless activity in human trafficking, primarily young girls trafficked
as sex slaves. Right now, according to her mother’s notes, opposing forces of
Nuestra Madre were going in different directions.

Abbi empathized
with the children who were being exploited for farm labor. She had the feeling
the ambassador was comfortable enough in his position to ignore the struggles
of the young people in favor of regaining stability of the region’s economy. What
he presented to them was like a broken jigsaw puzzle with some of the pieces
missing and other pieces in the wrong places. The problem that the ambassador
didn’t see was that the remaining pieces of the broken picture were colored
with muddy paint and tinged with the blood of children.

While the
ambassador focused his work on economic security for the region, he hinted that
perhaps the need for child labor would someday cease. For now, it was merely a
fact of life. Again the ambassador made no reference to the sex slaves being
bought and sold by NM2.

Maybe he really
isn’t aware of it, Abbi thought.

Abbi wondered at
the multi-talented Miss Sobori. Perhaps if the ambassador’s information could
be filtered through her eyes, with what she might also know from her
association with Mrs. Hightower, more progress would be made for the children.

Abbi stood up.

“Mr. Ambassador, please
work to improve the lives of the children, especially the ones who are stolen
to become sex slaves,” Abbi said boldly, interrupting the ambassador’s speech.

The ambassador
looked surprised. All eyes turned to Abbi.

“Of course,” he
said, looking shocked but not sounding sincere. “Bear in mind, NM is not an
entirely bad organization. I think we can reason with them.”

“What about NM2?”
Abbi asked.

An awkward hush
filled the room, followed with murmurings. Apparently not many people understood
about this faction of the transnational gang.

Miss Sobori stood
up.

“Excuse me, Mr.
Ambassador, but Miss Kowalski raises a good point. This is precisely the reason
we have all gathered here tonight. This issue of children being gathered up
against their will and made to be sex slaves is appalling. Granted, NM, while
being an underground crime organization, is part of the economic recovery in
some of these areas, as sad as that seems. But that organization does not see
eye-to-eye with this relatively new faction, known as NM2, its own offspring. With
careful negotiations taking place right now for the secure release of Miss
Shoe, we are actually talking with the NM2 perpetrators of the child sex slave
market. That’s why we’re hoping this is a sting operation and not merely a
ransom drop.”

“Is a sting really
necessary? Wha…” the Ambassador started but was interrupted by Miss Sobori who
no longer appeared shy. She spoke boldly to the group, stepping over the
ambassador’s words.

“Excuse me, Mr.
Ambassador, but please understand that we will need your full cooperation and
high level secrecy. The severity of the issue is much farther reaching than you
choose to think. And the consequences could be dire. This is not the time to be
subtle. For every young teenager or pre-pubescent teen we rescue, we know there
are many we have been unable to find, may never find.”

            The people at the table
turned their attention and admiration to Miss Sobori, and she continued to
speak.

            “Allow me to bring the
entire room up to speed on what has quickly been transpiring. One of your own,
a police officer in Texas, experienced the agony of his own daughter who went
missing a couple of months ago. She was a bright and talented young lady with a
good future. She met a young man at a mall when she was with friends. He did
what we call grooming—telling her how pretty she was, buying her jewelry,
lavishing compliments on her. He even bought her some clothes, maybe not what
you’d want a young girl to wear, but he gave her attention and was spending
money on her.”

She moved to a
map.

“Over the course
of about a week he had won her trust, enough that when he invited her to visit
his church in Mexico, she agreed. It was supposed to be fairly close to her
hometown in Texas. She took her passport when she left home. That passport was
quickly confiscated after they crossed the border. That church turned out to be
a brothel in the back of a filthy Mexican cantina.”

She pointed to the
map, showing locations. Then she passed a photo around of the cantina and the
grimy courtyard with its prison-like fencing and barbed wire.

“But first, before
he took her there, he drugged her and posted pictures and a video of her on the
Internet. She was for sale. All of a sudden, this went from a state crime to a
Federal Crime and then to an International crime.”

Miss Sobori
paused.

“In order to make a
better sale, he beat this bright, beautiful girl in a savage sexual assault for
the video, which he posted on a shared file website that is known in the
underground for its child pornography. Low and behold, within days he had a
buyer, a casino owner named Ramon who is also an active member of NM2. The
young lady was not only taken across the border on false pretences, but she was
also drugged, branded, and offered again for sale on websites. She is fourteen
years old.”

All eyes were on
Miss Sobori as she took a paper from her briefcase.

“This is a drawing
of the brand she still wears today, just days after her rescue. Against her
knowledge and will, she became a sex slave. Then, her ‘boyfriend’ went on to
groom others and is getting rich off this extremely cruel exploitation of girls
and young women. How many he has groomed and sold by now, we don’t know.”

Abbi recognized
the drawing as one she copied and had given to Mrs. Hightower. Miss Sobori’s
testimony gave information that was new to Abbi and added a horrible dimension
to the tattoo’s meaning. Wide-eyed, she turned and looked at Louise who
appeared dumb-founded.

The ambassador’s
mouth had dropped open. Several guttural sounds and inaudible words were heard
around the room.

            “I know. It is
disgusting. Immediately, when the report came through, a task force was formed
working with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children,” Miss
Sobori continued. “Under the guidelines of Project Childhood Safety, and with
the rapid coordination of the Mexican Government, the Passport office,  Border
Patrol, the CIA and the Texas P.D., and others, the FBI was able to
successfully extract the young lady from that cantina. By that time nearly two
months had passed, and the young lady has experienced untold emotional and
physical damage. She is now safely restored to her family and is relocated
through the federal Witness Protection Program. She is currently receiving
services from non-profit rescue/restore agencies similar to the coalition here
in Virginia. The way to treat these victims is not to throw them in jail but to
get vital services to them so that they can someday be whole again.”

            Several people smiled.

            Miss Sobori continued, “That
brings me to today’s focus. During that operation, our FBI Special Agent known
as Miss Shoe was abducted and her husband, also working undercover, yes
literally, was severely wounded. It is imperative that everyone here realizes
the severity of this operation. If we do not achieve the successful rescue of
Miss Shoe, we have reason to believe NM2 has a wealthy buyer in Brazil. We
can’t let them make that transaction.”