Payback

96

Lia leaned against the wall next to the water cooler and took a piece of elastic from her pocket, pushing it over her fist and up her wrist. Then she opened her briefcase and reached her nail beneath the top of the lining. She pulled, gently at first, and finally with a tug so hard she worried her nail would come off. The lining gave way and she pulled the envelope out, opening it just as she heard footsteps approaching. She pushed the cards up her sleeve, hooking them beneath the elastic. Closing the briefcase, she went to the water cooler and began pouring herself a drink.

A young girl approached her, a worried look on her face. The girl’s hands trembled as she reached for the water.

“Are you all right?” Lia asked her in Spanish.

The girl turned suddenly, as if she hadn’t even noticed that Lia was there.

“Are you OK?” Lia asked again.

The girl said nothing.

“Do you need something? Can I help you?”

The girl stared at her, still surprised.

“Quechua,” said Lia, talking to Rockman.

She heard him sigh beneath his breath before the language expert came on the line.

“Are you OK?” Lia asked again in Spanish. And then she repeated the words the translator gave her.

“I am OK,” said the girl, speaking in Spanish. “Thank you.”

“Who are you?”

“Calvina.”

“You should sit down, Calvina,” said Lia. “Come on.” She took the girl by the arm and led her into the hallway, but there were no chairs there. She turned back and led her to the stairway. As she sat the girl down, the deputy mayor’s voice bellowed from the second-floor landing.

“What are you doing?” he asked in Spanish.

“This young lady seems sick,” answered Lia.

“That’s none of your concern.”

Lia ignored him. “Are you all right?” she asked the girl.

Calvina nodded. Lia left her and climbed back up the stairs, where the deputy mayor was waiting, as if he were the principal and she an errant schoolgirl.

“Your guard wouldn’t get me a drink of water. So I helped myself.”

Lia ignored his glower and walked back down the hall to the room where the voter cards were. The guard stared stoically down the hallway. This time, he didn’t follow her in. Lia made the switch quickly, expecting that either the guard or the mayor would come in at any moment. She sealed the old cards in her briefcase, then went through the testing procedure, relaxed now, confident that she had succeeded at her mission, happy to be done.

Calvina’s hands trembled so badly she spilled some of the water on her dress. She finally managed to get up and went looking for the women’s room to wipe it.

As she entered, she caught sight of her face. She seemed pale, another person. Until now it had seemed that she had stepped into another body, that the whole trip here had been a dream — a surrealistic nightmare, with leering strangers at every turn. But now she saw that it really was her, that she was neither dreaming nor inhabiting another body — it was her face in the mirror.

A pale, ghostly face. Fearful and worried. And sad.

What had she expected? Of course the people she was dealing with were cruel. That was their nature. Hadn’t she expected that?

She would be taken to a border town near Ecuador, where she would take a bus to the capital. There she would go to the airport, where a man would meet her with balloons like the one she had been shown and she would be given a plane ticket.

If she tried to run away or made a mistake from that point on, she would be killed and her family would be killed.

Just looking at the balloons had made her sick.

The Chinawoman had appeared as if from a dream. Calvina wondered where she had come from — clearly she did not belong here.

She spoke many languages, including the Quechua, the tongue of Calvina’s grandparents. She seemed… an apparition. Or an angel, trying to help? Calvina’s guardian angel?

Just a kind woman, Calvina decided. She had only asked what was wrong, as anyone would.

Much was wrong. But these were the choices she had to make. She would be successful, like Senor DeCura. And when she returned to Lima and told the story of her younger days, she would not mention today.

Or the balloon.

Calvina fixed her dress, then crossed herself. She was to walk two blocks, where a woman in a red shawl would meet her. Then her journey would begin in earnest.

“Hey, stranger, fancy meeting you here,” said Karr when Lia walked into the café two blocks from the school.

“Real coincidence,” said Lia.

A waiter approached with a drink. “Same for her,” Karr told the man in English.

The waiter swirled away before she could stop him.

“A lot of tourists come here,” Karr told her. “They go into the jungle from here. That your idea of a vacation?”

“What are you drinking?”

“Bourbon.”

“Oh jeez.”

“Hey, we’re done. Time to celebrate.” He laughed and gave her one of his goofy smiles. “Who were you talking to inside?”

“Deputy mayor had a serious attitude.”

“No, who were you asking if they were OK?”

“Just a girl in the hall.”

“Drug smuggler.”

“What do you mean?”

“That place is being used as a clinic by one of the local drug lords. The government officials are probably in on it. They get these young girls to swallow dope for them right before they get on the airplane to the U.S. or Canada. When they get there…” He made a face.

“What?”

“You know.” He made the same face. “Terrible world out there, Princess.”

“She’s just a kid.”

“Yeah,” said Karr, looking up as the drinks came. “Life stinks.”