Disappeared Page 15

  She is standing there, paralyzed by the thought, when her cell phone rings. Ernesto.

  “We found the place,” he says in his usual no-nonsense voice.

  “You have?”

  “You don’t sound very excited.”

  “Something bad happened. I’ll tell you in a minute. But first let me write down the address.” She gets a pen from her backpack and then takes out the notepad she always uses for interviews. Her legs feel as if they are about to fold, so she leans against the display window for support. “Tell me.”

  “125 Calle Palacio de Mila. It’s on the corner of Avenida Las Torres. Take Highway 45 past the airport and turn on Boulevard Camandari. That will take you to Las Torres. We only got a satellite view of the place, but it looks like a large lot with a three-story building protected by high walls. The third floor is something like an enclosed patio that probably serves as a lookout. It reminds me of the compound where they captured Bin Laden.”

  “How did you find it?” Sara suddenly feels exhausted.

  “La Vaquita picks up and delivers linen there every Thursday. It’s almost directly in the path of the east-west runway of the airport. All their other pickups and deliveries are closer to town. The place is listed as a residence belonging to ‘Jacinto Vargas,’ who doesn’t exist as far as we can tell. It’s the right place. No doubt.”

  Sara writes down the directions, her hand trembling. Linda is in this place. She’s there now. Sara puts the notepad and pen in her backpack and notices that the battery icon on her cell phone is red. “Ernesto, my phone may go dead at any moment, so let me talk.”

  “Talk.”

  “I went back to the office to look for you, and when you weren’t there, I went to Juana’s office, and she wasn’t in. I guess it was a good thing because I really needed to talk to someone and I was ready to tell her everything we’ve discovered. Then I decided to go home. Lupita told me where Juana keeps the taxi vouchers.” Sara swallows. “In the drawer with the vouchers, I found the white envelope with the cell phone.”

  “Juana? No way!”

  “It was inside another, bigger envelope with an H on it, in Juana’s handwriting. Hinojosa probably already got a new phone. She must be holding it until it’s safe to give it to him personally.”

  “Damn. I didn’t see that coming.” They are both silent for a moment. “Why? Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she’s being threatened as well. Or maybe she’s doing it for the money. She told me at the quinceañera she would do whatever it took to save her job. Maybe she aligned herself with Hinojosa to keep El Sol from going under.”

  “That sort of makes sense. One day we were all getting laid off and the next we were back in business. But who knows? I’ve stopped trying to figure out why people do things. I’ll stick to computers. So, what do we do now?”

  “I found someone I can trust, someone from the FBI in El Paso. I want to talk to my brother and mother, because what I do will affect them, but if they agree, I’m going to give him the address you gave me.”

  “Mmm.” She can almost hear Ernesto thinking. “Juana’s going to be in that budget meeting for another two hours at least. I know because they called me in there a little while ago to drill me about why we needed four extra computers, and Felipe was ordering tacos from across the street. But when Juana comes out, if she sees that the phone is missing, she’ll know immediately that either you or I took it, and she’ll tell Hinojosa. We need to get ready.”

  “You?”

  “Think about it. You told Juana I was helping with the threatening e-mail.”

  “Ernesto, you told me you have places to hide.”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry about me. Call your FBI friend soon. We only have a couple of hours before all hell breaks loose. Have you looked at the cell phone?”

  “No. It’s still in the envelope.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m in the street, a couple of blocks from where Mami works. I better go. I want to have enough battery to call my brother. Make sure he’s okay.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be quick. Open the envelope and take the phone out carefully by the edges. Don’t touch the screen or the back of the phone.”

  Sara follows his instructions. “I got it.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s an Android. It has a stylus.”

  “Okay, it’s got fingerprint ID recognition. That’s good news.”

  “That’s good news why?”

  “María, one of our Jaqueros, was able to open one just like that by lifting a fingerprint of the owner from the screen and scanning it. We’ll be able to break in.”

  “Ernesto …” Sara doesn’t want him to be in any more danger.

  “Look, I know what you’re going to say, but we’re deep in this mess already. Might as well take it as far as we can. Even if your FBI friend rescues the girls, the bald colonel bastard and his associates are still out there. Let’s get as many of the sons of bitches as we can. We can do that with the information on that phone. Are you going home?”

  “In a little while, after I pick up Mami.”

  “I’ll drop by your house and pick up the phone. Just make sure you don’t touch the back or the screen. And don’t think about it too much. The only way to fight these people is by not thinking about the danger. I’ll get the phone from you and take it from there. You need to disappear too. I’m leaving now.”

  Sara leans her forehead against the glass of the display window. “This is all happening so fast. I need to think.”

  “What did you think about when you saw the envelope in Juana’s drawer?”

  “I just grabbed it.”

  “Because doing what is right is in your bones. Just follow where your bones take you. Give me your address. I don’t even know where you live.”

  Sara pauses. She never gives her address to anyone. Can she trust Ernesto? She trusted Juana and that trust was misplaced. Juana. Juana knows where she lives. Her image of being safe at home with Mami and Emiliano suddenly shatters.

  “Sara, we’re on the same side,” Ernesto says.

  What does trust feel like? Sara has no idea anymore. All she can feel is hope. She hopes that Ernesto is as good and brave as he seems, and she must listen to that hope, because without it, her world would be total darkness. She gives Ernesto her address. “You better come early,” she says. “I think we’ll need to find a place to spend the night.”

  “Be there as soon as I can. I’m going to go home and get a buddy to give me a ride to—”

  The screen on her phone turns black. The battery is dead. Sara slides down and sits on the sidewalk beneath the display window. She thinks of the one-legged beggar she saw a few minutes before. Maybe she’ll soon be homeless too.

  She looks at the white envelope that held the phone. Folded inside is the note that Erica had written her family. The words are blurry and brown—written with eyeliner, she guesses—and it says almost exactly what Mr. Mirabiles recited over the phone. Then Sara reads the note that Mr. Rentería wrote to her.

  Miss Sara. This was sent from our Erica. She’s alive. Help her. She wanted you to have this. You are the only one she trusts and the only one we trust.

  God bless you always,

  Manuel Rentería

  Sara folds the note, places it in the envelope, and stands.

  There is still a little strength left in her bones.

  Emiliano tells the taxi driver to stop in front of Armando’s house. He pays with the money Armando gave him yesterday. It feels like such a waste to pay fifty pesos for something that would have cost him five if he had taken a bus. He had to take a taxi to school after he dropped the Mercedes at Armando’s house early this morning, so that’s eighty pesos gone on taxis.

  Through the iron bars of the front gate, he can see Armando’s black Jeep. Someone is moving behind a window upstairs. When there’s a lull in the street traffic, he hears the deep beat of a bass guitar. There, just in
side the black gate, he sees his bicycle and trailer. Armando must have had someone bring it over from Taurus.

  He pushes the button on the intercom outside the gate. The intercom and the camera on the brick fence are identical to the ones at Alfredo Reyes’s home. Emiliano is surprised to hear Armando answer. “Hello?”

  “It’s Emiliano,” he says, his mouth nearly touching the intercom.

  “Come in.”

  There’s a click and the gate swings forward at Emiliano’s touch. He’s halfway down a stone path when the front door of the house opens and Armando steps out. He’s wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and pink flip-flops. His black hair is wet and slicked up. “Emiliano! I was hoping I’d hear from you.”

  The warmth and apparent sincerity in Armando’s words soothe the jagged edges that have been poking at Emiliano since he left Javier. “Did you get the box that Mr. Reyes sent you?” he asks. “I made sure the man who opened the gate for me this morning brought it inside the house. You were asleep.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Of course. Thank you. I hope that wasn’t too much trouble. I had no idea Mr. Reyes was sending anything with you.”

  It’s probably not a good idea to tell Armando that he didn’t sleep a wink last night because of, among other things, that damn box.

  “Hey.” Armando puts his arm around Emiliano’s shoulders and turns him toward the side of the house. “I’m glad you came in person instead of just calling. I want to show you something.”

  Emiliano manages to step out of Armando’s hold without Armando noticing. Or maybe Armando does notice, but who cares. If he’s going to do business with these people, it will be on his own terms, and friendship is not one of them.

  “I don’t know what you said or did, but Alfredo Reyes was really impressed with you, and he’s not easily impressed. I knew he would be, that’s why I sent you to see him. By the way, I took the liberty of asking my father to call Mr. Esmeralda yesterday after you met with Ernesto Reyes. I told you Jorge Esmeralda was my father’s lawyer, right? Mr. Esmeralda called my father this morning and said some very good things about you. You’re in, my friend. You’re in!”

  The full implication of what Armando means by “in” is unmistakable, but Emiliano does not want to talk about Perla Rubi with Armando. “I wanted to talk to you about what Mr. Reyes proposed,” he says.

  “Sure. But first you need to see this.” Armando pushes a button on a wall and a garage door rolls up. In front of Emiliano is a black sports car that looks fast just sitting there. Next to it is a white BMW motorcycle. Armando walks up to it and touches the seat. “I got this for my birthday last week. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Emiliano nods. The motorcycle that he plans to buy from Joel Cardenas seems shabby by comparison. “Ninety horses?” he asks.

  “Yeah? You know bikes?”

  “A little.” He’s been doing some reading since Joel agreed to sell his bike to him.

  “Good.” Armando pulls a green plastic cover from another, smaller motorcycle. Emiliano takes a step closer. “It’s no BMW, but … My father got it for me for my fourteenth birthday. It’s a nice little scooter, one of the best Vespa makes. Primavera Touring. Single-cylinder four-stroke engine with catalytic converter and electronic fuel injection. Maximum speed is about 96 kilometers per hour, but I’ve gotten it to go faster than that. And look, it has front and rear luggage racks where you can carry your folk art things.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Armando fishes in his pocket and tosses Emiliano two keys attached to a rabbit’s foot. “This will make you more efficient. You can’t be riding around on that old bike of yours. It would take you half a day to get to the place where Mr. Reyes keeps the product. And I have other means of transportation, as you can see.” Armando pats the BMW. “It’s good as new. I had someone siphon out the old gas and put new in.”

  “I can’t,” Emiliano says.

  “Sure you can. If it makes you uncomfortable to accept it as a gift, then think of it as a loan. When you buy a car or a better motorcycle, you can give it back.” Armando turns the motor scooter around and slowly pushes it outside. He closes the garage doors. “You should get one of those thick chains and a lock if you’re going to take it to school. Hey, you need a helmet? I got an old one you can have.”

  “That’s all right.” Emiliano is at a loss for words. He came over to tell Armando that he will work with Mr. Reyes under certain conditions, but he can’t remember what they are now. “You knew I was going to say yes.”

  “I was hoping.”

  “Why? What do you get out of all this?”

  Armando laughs. “Alfredo Reyes is an associate of my father’s. I thought I’d do him a favor by sending him someone like you. Good people are incredibly hard to find.”

  Mr. Esmeralda said something to that effect. Emiliano tries to recollect his exact words. Cortázar and Reyes are good businessmen. The success of an organization depends on the quality of the people who work there.

  “But what about you? The business that I’ll be doing is so small. Whatever cut you want from it can’t possibly make a difference to you.”

  “I’m not looking for a cut of your business,” Armando says, smiling.

  “Then …”

  “The way this world works, my little friend, is that today I scratch your back and tomorrow you’ll scratch mine. Hell, that didn’t sound right. Look, connections are the only way to make it in this town. I don’t have a head for business, as much as my father wishes I did. He wants me to help him develop malls and office buildings. And to be honest with you, I’d rather be flying on that baby in the garage than do the boring stuff he wants me to do. So, if you must know, my hidden motive is that someday you’ll work with me and take care of all the business junk that comes naturally to you … and I hate.” Armando pauses and studies Emiliano’s face. “Relax. We’re not monsters. We’re businesspeople. Okay? Don’t worry. You’re doing the right thing for yourself and your family.” He smiles and adds, “And you’re doing the right thing for Perla Rubi.”

  Emiliano smiles as well. He touches the right handle of the motor scooter. “How do I get in touch with Mr. Reyes? To tell him I want to do business with him.”

  “I’ll call him. You’re all set. He’ll get in touch with you.”

  He remembers his conditions. “I need to be in control of the volume and the type of product. And I’m the only one who has contact with the kids who make the crafts. No one else.”

  Armando laughs. “Do I have an eye for talent or do I have an eye for talent. You’re going to go places, Emiliano. You’re a born CEO. One day I’ll say, ‘I knew Emiliano Zapata when he was a nobody.’ Come on, get on the bike. I’ll open the gate for you.”

  “My bicycle,” Emiliano says as they walk by it.

  “I had Tony put it on the truck and bring it here. Thought it would be easier for you. And to be honest, it didn’t quite go with the image of Taurus we’re trying to convey.”

  “Can I take the trailer with me? I need it for my deliveries.”

  “Sure. Hold on.” Armando goes back into the garage and comes out with a roll of electrical wire and a pair of pliers. “I think this will work. You know, Vespa makes these boxes you can attach to the racks. Optics are important, my friend.”

  “It’s only temporary,” Emiliano says as he latches the trailer to the back rack of the Vespa. “I’ll look into that box for the luggage rack.”

  Armando walks toward the gate. “Thank you,” Emiliano says as he opens it.

  Armando responds by giving him a thumbs-up.

  Emiliano climbs on the scooter and starts it. The scooter makes a soft sound, a smooth and steady purr. It’s not a powerful sound, but to him, it’s just right.

  “What happened?” Mami asks Sara when they’re inside their house.

  Mami knew something was wrong as soon as Sara entered the bakery. She tilted her head as if to see Sara’s face from a different angle, and they were both quiet on the
car ride home. Sara had decided that she would wait until Emiliano got home to tell them both the news at the same time, but the moment Mami asks her what’s wrong, the tears start to flow.

  Mami hugs Sara and leads her to the sofa, holding her until she is able to speak. Sara tells her everything that happened from the time Felipe read the threatening e-mail until her last conversation with Ernesto an hour before. After she finishes speaking, Mami pulls Sara’s head to her chest and they sit there quietly. Sara can hear her heart racing.

  “We’re not safe here anymore, Mami.”

  “I know.”

  “We can go to a motel. I can ask Joel to take us.”

  “We’ll wait for Emiliano to get home. We have a little time, no?”

  “A couple of hours. I need to wait for Ernesto to come for the cell phone. Where’s Emiliano? Have you heard from him today?”

  “No.” A shadow comes over Mami’s face.

  “What?”

  “I’m worried. Mrs. Cardenas called me at work today. Emiliano parked a fancy car in their backyard last night and drove it out very early this morning.”

  “Oh.” Sara doesn’t want to tell Mami about her late-night conversation with Emiliano, as it would only worry her more, but this confirms something is happening with her brother. “It’s probably related to his business. You know Emiliano.”

  “Yes.” But Sara can tell she is still worried. Mami makes a move to stand, but Sara holds her arm.

  “I’m sorry for all this, Mami.”

  She hugs her. “If you were Linda or that girl Erica or any of those other girls in that horrible place, and if I was the mother of any one of them, I would want you to do what you did. Call that policeman in El Paso as soon as possible. Tell him the address. Maybe it’s not too late to help Linda.”