Act of Deceit

Chapter 60

D onnally slid down in the driver’s seat of his rental car as he watched Brother Melvin and a flak-jacketed immigration agent step out of the entrance to terminal one of the Cancun airport. The agent gripped Melvin’s elbow and steered him to the edge of the sidewalk.

Melvin shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun setting behind wind-combed clouds and scanned the parking area. He looked dead-on at Donnally’s car, then over at the agent, shaking his head, seeming to say, He’s not here.

As they turned away, Donnally reached for his phone.

“What happened?”

“Bad luck,” his father said. “I just talked to the producer. NBC screwed up and sent the Dateline reporter who did all of those predator investigations. An American tourist recognized him while he was waiting with the camera guy at baggage claim. She made a big deal about it. Next thing they knew, they were surrounded by immigration officers.”

Donnally felt a rush of targetless anger, unable to lock on to an insubstantial coincidence.

“The producer told me that the White House just announced that the U.S. and Mexican presidents are meeting next week. His guess is that they don’t want a sex-trafficking story breaking just beforehand.”

“Where’s the crew now?” Donnally asked.

“In a room with a bunch of illegal Chinese immigrants. The producer introduced Brother Melvin and is trying to convince immigration that they’re doing a story on the church, not on sex trafficking.”

“Sometimes that’s the same thing,” Donnally said, “and they know it. He should have picked a better story.”

“It’s too late now.” His father hesitated for a moment, then said, “Have you heard anything about, uh…”

“Nothing. No contact from her at all.”

“Hold on a second,” his father said. “They’re calling again.”

Donnally looked at his watch. The new tapes with the boys were done and Corazon was driving back from Merida to deliver them.

His father came back on the line.

“The producer is talking about catching a flight to Houston, filing a report that they were blocked by Mexican immigration from covering a story, then heading back down again.”

“Too late. The element of surprise would be lost. They’ll have to say what it’s about and Sherwyn will move Janie somewhere I can’t find her. There’s a balance right now between Jago and Sherwyn that keeps her there. Sherwyn wants the tapes and Jago wants me. I don’t want to tip it. Ask them to keep quiet for another twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll try, but they’re pissed. They sense something big.”

“If they’ll just hold on, I’ll give it to them.”

Donnally paused, accepting his failure in his attempt to use the press to expose Sherwyn and the kidnapping and to force him to cave in.

“Unfortunately,” Donnally finally said, “it’ll be history by the time they find out about it.”

“What time do they want to do the exchange?” his father asked.

“Seven A.M.. My time. Twelve hours from now.”

D onnally called Brother Melvin and told him to go with the NBC crew back to the States, then drove from the airport parking lot. He checked for police surveillance by driving along the coast, then circled inland.

A light rain began as he turned south toward the beach town of Playa del Carmen. He parked in the Wal-Mart lot and followed some Hawaiian-shirted U.S. ex-pats inside. He overheard one warn of a storm from the Caribbean that was expected to hit land overnight. The other looked heavenward and said, “Good thing it’s not hurricane season.”

At least not for you, Donnally said to himself, then skirted around them and headed toward the electronics department, where he selected a sound-activated recorder and batteries. After paying for them, he drove to the Ace Hardware in Cancun and purchased fine wire, a soldering iron, a box cutter, and fast-drying paper glue.

L alo was waiting for him on the sidewalk in front of the hotel when he arrived. He didn’t wait for Donnally to ask whether he’d heard any news from his friend at White Sands about Janie before shaking his head. He handed Donnally an object wrapped in a paper bag. Donnally looked inside and nodded. The book was the right size and the new drawing had the details he needed.

Donnally brought Lalo up to the room and ordered dinner for him, then sat down at the table and spread out his purchases.

Lalo took the seat across from him. His eyes remained fixed on Donnally’s hands as he opened the book and cut out an inside compartment. He then bored a tiny hole in the spine of the book.

As Donnally pried open the recorder, Lalo said, “I see. You want my friend to hide this in Senor William’s office.” He smiled. “Very smart.”

Lalo thought for a moment and his smiled faded. “I don’t understand why it’s needed. You can tell the American police what happened.” Then he understood why Donnally needed it recorded: He might not live to tell the tale. Lalo crossed himself. “I swear I will find a way to get it back and take it to Corazon.”

Donnally reached for the diagram Lalo’s friend had drawn and made an X where he wanted the book shelved, then pointed toward the door.

“Go find your pal while I finish this up and glue the pages together. It’ll be ready in an hour.”

Lalo nodded and headed toward the door.