Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (26 page)

“Go NOW,” Big Sam
said, “while you have the chance. She’s waiting for you.”

“Won’t she have to
leave?” Abbi asked, studying Big Sam’s face.

“She has security
clearance and a special mission that involves you.”

Abbi and Louise
stood up carefully. Abbi stared at the name on the note.

“Wait, Sam, what’s
this got to do with my mother?”

“My best guess? Some
analysts have cracked a transnational human trafficking ring in Colombia. The
CIA is trying to move on it but diplomacy is getting in the way. Your mother uncovered
a goldmine of missing persons information for the FBI before her abduction, and
the people who are holding her probably know it. Maybe that information was the
missing folder. Who knows? Be careful, girls! These people would stop at
nothing. GO!”

“OK, Big Sam.
Thanks, I think,” Abbi said quietly. She gave him a hug.

Abbi read over the
note one more time, replaying the words in her mind. She put the dry note in
her mouth, a note that Mrs. Hightower had sent—along with a very private P.S.
just for her from Gate Keeper. That message alone was worth chewing on. Louise
looked at her in awe.

“You’re not
actually doing that, are you?”

Abbi opened her
mouth to show her, then finished chewing it up. After a hard gulp, she began
picking the wet and ragged fragments of paper out of her teeth. She got a baby
wipe out of her briefcase and washed herself off. Then she took a drink from
her water bottle.

“Wow! That’s just
what I needed! My mouth feels so much fresher now!”

Abbi faltered on
the stair landing on the way up to the second floor where huge tall columns
bordered a balcony overlooking the scene of the bombing attempt. The horrifying
scene lay below them now but the sight and fury of ATF investigators made
Abbi’s knees feel weak. Again she still felt dizzy.

“We could have
been killed!” Abbi whispered, echoing what Big Sam had said and suddenly
realizing how close they came.

Louise nodded.

“Stop! You can’t
go there!” a booming voice called from the first floor. It was the same
security guard, obviously having a bad day.

“Personal security
staff for Mrs. Hightower,” Abbi said, moving on as she held onto the rail to
steady herself. She added, “She summoned us.”

The second floor
opened onto the Gallery of Heroes, where national flags of the member states,
smaller than the ones outside, hung proudly over the busts of dignitaries and
visionaries from North, Central, and South America and the Caribbean. The flags
and busts lined both sides of the enormous hall. Abbi had been directed to go
to a board room on this floor.

She thought about
the note. Mrs. Hightower, also known to Lowell as The Silent Avenger, was sweet
little Nanny Fanny to Abbi, or at least used to be. She had learned that Mrs.
Hightower held a strong dislike for politicians who overlooked crimes against
humanity in favor of payoffs to maintain the status quo. In her own quiet way, Mrs.
Hightower had made a living by finding ways to bring corrupt politicians to
justice.

Mrs. Hightower,
with enemies both numerous and powerful, may have been the one the suicide
bombers were trying to get.

Strange. Abbi once
saw her in an entirely different light. But now, so many lights were going off
about Mrs. Hightower that if she were a pinball machine, she’d be rocking!

“You’re getting
some color back. How do you feel?” Louise asked.

            “Queezy stomach, but
we’re here! And I’m not going to throw up.”

            “That’s better!” Louise
said with a fist bump. “You can’t turn back now. It’s time.

 Big Sam is still downstairs. Don’t
be afraid.”

            “Fear shall not be my
enemy. It only makes me stronger,” Abbi said with determination, as if quotes could
renew her courage.

“Wish I could say
that. I really don’t want to see Mrs. Hightower,” Louise said. “I’ve heard too
much about her. She looks weird and seems to have demonic powers.”

“She’s not the
enemy,” Abbi said. “I know her in a different light.”

“But why is she
here?” Louise said.

“Change of plans,
that’s all I know,” Abbi said.

            Abbi’s courage returned
as her head cleared. Her instructions said that halfway down the hallway she
would find a closed door with a sticky note: Mrs. Hightower.        

            “Oops! Not home. I
guess we’ll have to go,” Abbi said lightly, trying to relieve her tension. Then
she looked squarely at Louise and asked, “Are you ready for this?”

“Frankly, I’m
scared,” Louise answered. “You already wrecked their plans once!”

“No, I didn’t
wreck their plans. When NM2 didn’t plan to hand over my mother, that wrecked
the FBI’s plans. Then the suicide bomber here just wrecked their plans again.
But I did not wreck their plans.”

Silently Abbi said
a prayer, hoping for the strength to move ahead with this assignment. She
inhaled deeply. A bad smell lingered in the air, or maybe she had inhaled it
and couldn’t get it out of her body. She winced at the thought.

The words she memorized
played silently in her mind.

“Is the suicide
bomber part of NM2?” Louise asked.

“Someone knows,
but I don’t. It was weird though, how he looked at me.”

“But with the wig
and these clothes, I can’t imagine he would have known who you are!”

Having been badly shaken
by the suicide bomber, Abbi had finally regained her composure and stood now at
the door of The Francisco de Miranda Room where Mrs. Hightower waited. She stared
a moment at the large wooden door.

Now that her
fog-brain began to clear, pieces that had been missing began to take shape. Lost
pieces appeared and began fitting together. She could still see her mother in a
room, isolated. Then quick flashes: Constraint. Tied to a chair. A gag in her
mouth. Then other pieces of the puzzle--information from the law complex,
Lowell’s note, the tattoos, notes and reports of NM2 from her mother’s office, the
mysterious missing report, Miss Sobori’s account of the young girl who had been
trafficked, things her mother had said before she left, and now, especially, the
botched rescue of her mother—all came together to form a more complete picture.

Abbi, angered by
events, felt ready for anything. The light in her brain was back on and shining
bright like a diamond in the sun. She knew she would do whatever she had been
called to do, whatever the risk.

She knocked on the
massive door, smiled at Louise, and heard the familiar voice saying, “Please
come in.”

Mrs. Hightower sat
with her back to them near a large centrally-located table.  She stood up and
looked out the window that was beyond a row of heavy leather chairs. The woman
may have been looking at the gathering crowd, the reporters, the onlookers, and
people leaving the scene hurriedly. Abbi imagined that some of the people were
stopping to talk to reporters about the incident they had luckily escaped.

The colorfully
flowing robes that Mrs. Hightower wore showed she had an eye for style and not
much desire to wear office attire. Her dark complexion and shortly cropped hair
completed the picture of a benevolent mastermind. She turned toward them and
her face lit up.

“Well, I see you got
up here safely! Sometimes things don’t go according to plan. I would not have
brought you here if I had known the danger. Let this old woman give you a hug!”
Mrs. Hightower said as she rose from the desk. She moved toward the door and
closed it firmly before their embrace. Louise held back, but Mrs. Hightower
reached out to her.

“Now, child. I
would not hurt you,” she said to Louise.

Then, in a long
embrace, she whispered to Abbi that her father had gone through a successful
surgery and just needed to sleep and recuperate at this point. “He can’t speak
yet,” she added, “but he will. I’m sure.”

Mrs. Hightower,
stepped back, shook her head and said to both girls, “I believe we’re safe in
here now and can talk. It’s very unlikely that a third suicide bomber would be
lined up, but security is even tighter than usual, of course. I’m surprised
they made it past Mrs. Blackburn down there. Must have been a specially-made
bomb.”

“Big Sam thought
the man had swallowed the detonating device.”

“Sounds like a
good guess. He’s just the man who would know.”

Abbi stood in awe
in the presence of this woman and wondered still if they might be related.
Although Abbi had very curly hair and her own skin was lighter, she could see
similarities and the thought made her proud. She thought she deserved an answer,
and if Mrs. Hightower was the suicide bomber’s intended target, Abbi might not
have another chance.  

Getting up her
nerve, Abbi asked, “Are you my grandmother?”

            The woman sighed
deeply.

“Yes, dear! I’m
afraid that’s a very old secret and you mustn’t let on that you know, not yet.
Nanny Fanny, Granny Francie, Francine DuBois and more, all in one.”

“I knew it, oh, I
knew it!!!” Abbi squealed with excitement. She never, ever, would have guessed
that Nanny Fanny was the horrible Francine DuBois, a woman she thought wanted nothing
to do with her or her father. The pinball machine in her mind with its many
lights had even more lights now, going off like fireworks!

Still harboring
unanswered questions, she asked, “Why did you leave?”

The woman said,
“Hush now! First, our relationship has to remain a secret, at least for now.
You can keep a secret, can’t you?”

She turned to
Louise.

“And you, Miss
Louise?”

Louise simply
nodded, apparently speechless.

“I left to protect
you, my Abeni. It was better for you if some people thought I was dead. Your
parents knew but they had to protect us all.”

She reached out to
hug Abbi again, kissing Abbi’s forehead and her hands, and then she touched
Louise’s cheek.

“As a participant
in the witness protection program, my new identity had to be a secret but,
although I moved away and left your family, Abbi, I kept working for the Bureau
under this new name and a new job title. The agency needed me to complete my
work. There was too much at stake to walk away from everything I had
investigated, and from the life I had invested. I hoped it might be too obvious
to be obvious. Some things just are. Remember this, things are rarely as they
appear.”

“So why reveal
yourself to me now?”

“The time seemed
right, my dear. Who knows what tomorrow holds? Please both of you young ladies be
seated,” she said, indicating leather chairs close to the desk as she returned
to her chair. Her robes were like butterfly wings. “Things have been happening
fast. We don’t have all the answers, but we have analysts who are working hard
to bring the facts to light, and that’s where you come in. Ready to listen?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the
two girls said.

“Lowell is making
preparations for your arrival which must be completed before closing time. Obviously,
events beyond our control have made it necessary to move to a new location. The
logistics of moving equipment takes time but should be nearly ready. As you can
imagine, it has to be rather covert.  At the same time, to an onlooker, it should
appear natural. It will seem that Lowell and the others with him are setting up
a new display at a museum, that museum being The International House of Spies.
Again, too obvious to be obvious.”

“We’re staying in
a museum?”

“You catch on
quickly. That’s important to your success on this mission. Now, let’s get to
the relevant facts that brought you both here. Abeni, you know both your
parents are in trouble. Your father was injured in an attack, and rests under
watchful eyes in a military hospital. He is registered under an assumed name
that I can’t reveal right now. His condition is critical. The doctors feel it
might be good for him to see his daughter. He indicates that he wants to see
you whenever he’s conscious. No promises, but we will do our best to get you in
to see him.”

Abbi felt her nose
getting hot and tears filling her eyes. She wanted to speak, to say all that
she was thinking. All that came out was a feeble and heartfelt, “Thank you!”

“Your mother, my
daughter, remains missing. Because of her call to you and the follow-up we were
able to do, we know that she is alive. Thank God! We picked up the location
from her Smart Shoes. Revealing myself to you now is a matter of strong
maternal instinct. I must protect my daughter. We still believe you will help
us rescue her. We believe you are the best person for this assignment because
of both your unusual skill set, your size, and who you are.”

“How dangerous is
the mission?” Abbi asked, wanting to know but almost afraid to ask, knowing
that it wouldn’t really matter.

“It’s the same
drop, but the stakes have increased. Their demands are more stringent and
you’ll have less security. On a scale of one to ten, maybe pushing ten if you
were old and out of shape like I am. But you? Perhaps a two.”

“What if I can’t
do it?” Abbi asked.

“No, no, no! This
mission will be a success but only if they do not make the connection that you
are your mother’s daughter. Revealing that would bring instant defeat. Perhaps
abduction. You are aware that your mother’s code name is Miss Shoe.  But did
you know she chose it because she misses you when she is out on assignment.”

Abbi remembered
countless times her mother would call and say, ‘I’m Miss Shoe’. Abbi thought it
was just a mom-thing.

“Yeah, of course, after
awhile I knew she wasn’t selling shoes.”

“Right. Very well,
then. Miss Kowalski and Miss Soufflé, get yourselves to the International House
of Spies, just a few blocks from here. You can walk it. Use your map. Continue
to assume your temporary identities and stay in character throughout this
assignment. In the packet I gave you are your character descriptions, unique to
each of you. I trust you’ve studied them. You appear to be dressed
appropriately and are wearing your nametags, just as directed. Good for you! As
a reminder, you, Abeni, are Miss Kowalski. Love your hair! Almost didn’t
recognize you. Miss Pelletier, you are Mademoiselle Soufflé. Stay in character
as long as there are eyes that see and work that needs done.”