Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (35 page)

            “I love you, Daddy, and
I will. I promise,” Abbi wrote. Then she added, “I’m so proud of you. Get
better fast. No ZINGING!”

When Abbi left her
father’s room, she knew beyond a doubt that he had been a hero. It wouldn’t be
publicized. It couldn’t be. Covert missions remained classified for years.

She also knew she
messed up. Staying in character had been impossible. If the people at
headquarters didn’t like how she handled it, then they should try it sometime.

The more she knew
about NM2, the more anxiety she felt. NM2, with its focus on human trafficking
and with its ruthless disregard for human life, especially for women, was an
extremely dangerous force.

Abbi left the
critical care unit with a deeper understanding of the risks involved.

            She smiled at Louise
when they met up again in the lobby. For now it was enough to know her father
was alive. No matter what happened, his words, his love and spirit would last
forever.

Surprisingly, Big
Sam also sat in the lobby when Abbi returned. As she approached, he stood up,
turned off her listening device, and gave her a long hug. Abbi saw how
concerned he was for both her and her father.

“How is he?” he
asked, still hugging Abbi.

“Maybe he’s better
than he looks? He was fully aware, able to talk, and he was happy to see me!”

When she answered,
she looked at Big Sam specifically to read his face. A tear formed in his eye.

“He’s a tough man
with a lot to live for. I believe he’ll pull through,” he said. He pushed Abbi
away but held her shoulders in his hands and looked firmly into her eyes. He
was unashamed of the tear that now rolled down his cheek.

Then, abruptly,
Big Sam returned to his normal stiff and reserved self.

Abbi smiled at
Louise who finally smiled back and wasn’t texting.

“I got hold of my
father, too. He’s been working with other analysts and negotiators. It’s going
to happen. They need you, er, uh, us!”

When they walked
down the maze of halls to leave, Abbi realized how late it had become. Darkness
had set in during the short time she had visited her father. Abbi should have
felt exhausted. Instead, she felt a fresh buoyancy of hope.

 Scott drove Big
Sam and the girls back to Operation Missing Shoe headquarters.  Multi-agency
analysts had been brought in, including Mr. Pelletier, to study the information
Abbi had given them and to bring Abbi and Big Sam up on some insights they had
gained.

Someone had
smuggled in a pizza and soft drinks.  For that, Abbi was grateful. These people
didn’t move on their stomachs much.

“Eat up! You
deserve it!” said Big Sam with a smile, finally more relaxed.

Abbi helped
herself to pizza and looked around at the seated staff. Lowell was still noticeably
absent. She wanted to ask Mr. Pelletier about Gate Keeper but stuffed pizza in
her mouth instead.

FBI Special Agent
Ann Sobori came in and helped retrieve Abbi’s listening device while Abbi
munched on pizza. Abbi liked her and thought she’d like to be just like that—young,
pretty, smart, nice but tough, and work a job like that.

“You’ve been a
busy girl!” Miss Sobori said.

“I got to see my father
today! He looked great!” Abbi remembered too late that she was to keep
relationships out of the discussions in headquarters.

“Sh-h!” Miss
Sobori whispered. “We almost lost him, you know. It wasn’t his fault, just bad
timing.”

“I hope they’ll
let me help in this next drop,” Abbi said, reaching for another piece of pizza.

“We’ve got a plan.
You’ll get details in the morning. And there will be more for Miss Soufflé to
do. She has to get bored.”

“She finds
distractions. Are they revealing the next part of the rescue plan tonight,”
Abbi asked.

“Can’t. Not
everyone’s here,” Miss Sobori said. “And I won’t be here in the morning. I’m
keeping pretty busy too.”

She asked Abbi
what clothes she had with her.

Abbi explained
that, other than the suit she had on, she had jeans and a light hoodie. She
also had her tank top and sweatpants. And running shoes.

“How about some
fresh clothes? You look about a size 5 or 7? We want both you and Mademoiselle Soufflé
to dress in uniform, as if on staff at an embassy. And you will have a leotard.”

Miss Sobori left
Abbi and handed the listening mechanism to an analyst named Frank who was eager
to listen for any new information that might be useful. After a few minutes Frank
called Abbi over for questioning.

“Do you mind if I
record my interview with you?” Frank asked as he turned on a small recorder.
“Your, er, interview with Mr. Schumann I found intriguing. I’d like to catch
your answers on my recorder. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Abbi
said. She knew her conversation with her father would raise some eyebrows.

Abbi sipped a soft
drink while she answered Frank’s questions. Then the analyst listened one more
time to the recording from Abbi’s visit with her father before he began to
question her.

 “You said in this
recording that you could describe Miss Shoe’s location.”

“Not her location
exactly, but I can tell you a little about the shack I see her in,” Abbi said.

“What do you mean,
you ‘see her’?” Fred asked.

“Where she’s being
held,” Abbi said.

“You see it?”

“I have a picture
in my mind,” Abbi said. “It’s a small dingy white house in the mountains. It’s
somewhere in Virginia! Oh, my gosh!
I just realized that!
”

Abbi stood up and
looked for Big Sam.

“Big Sam, she’s not
in Mexico. She’s in Virginia now!”

Frank said, “I
believe if my facts are straight, she’s in Mexico. Sam, I don’t know why she’s
saying this.” He was very slightly shaking his head.

“Just hear her
out, Frank,” Big Sam said.

“She’s not in
Mexico. Miss Shoe is in an abandoned shack, not nice at all. The walls have
ugly shredded wallpaper. She is sitting on the floor in an empty room.”

Frank shuffled in
his seat and looked uncomfortable and then suddenly leaned forward.

Big Sam came over.

“You’re sure?”

“YES! It’s clear!”

“But the Smart
Shoes! They’re still in Mexico with her phone,” Big Sam said.

Abbi described
again the vision she saw.

“Better check
again on the shoes,” Abbi said. “They moved her.”

“Carry on, Frank,”
Big Sam said. He left to call Mrs. Hightower.

Frank scratched
his head with his pen and hesitated before continuing the interview.

“Well, uh, you
also discussed being zinged with Mr. Schumann. That’s zing, Z-I-N-G.  Am I
correct?”

Abbi nodded.

“What did you mean
by ‘zinged’?” he asked quietly.

Abbi felt suddenly
heavy. They wouldn’t understand and she would lose credibility. She took a deep
breath, preparing for the inevitable.

“It’s a theory on
teleporting that we talked about once,” Abbi said.

“Who talked about
it?”

“Mr. Schumann and
me.”

“How well do you
know Mr. Shumann?”

“I’ve known him
for a long time, since I was a kid,” Abbi whispered.

“Who teleported?”

“He did. Zinging is
a special kind of teleporting. It’s something the human spirit can do, near
death or when a person dies. At least, that’s the theory,” Abbi said. “He
zinged me. His presence was real. I thought he must have been very close to
dying.”

“And how did he do
this?”

Abbi didn’t want
to discuss it with this man. Others would hear. She felt uncomfortable about
revealing what some might call the paranormal theories that she and her parents
shared. For her to discuss something like this with Frank or anyone was like
undressing in front of them. She told him just enough to get him to stop.

“Look. I don’t
know how it works. I felt his spirit rush through me and I knew he was happy.
That’s all.”

The analyst looked
at her as if a two-headed monster had just sprung up from a Jack-in-the-box. He
called Agent Sobori over and asked what she knew about teleporting.

“Nothing, sir. Absolutely
nothing.”

He then asked Abbi
what medications, either prescribed or otherwise, she had been taking.

“I don’t take
anything, and I don’t drink or smoke. I also try to avoid junk food. I’m
squeaky clean,” she said.

“Well, OK, Miss
Kowalski. I’ll get back with you on this,” Frank said and quickly clicked off
the recording device. Before he dismissed her, he said, “Obviously, Mr.
Schumann is your father. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“That explains
your uncanny ability. It’s a gift,” he said with a smile. “I hope your father
gets well soon.”

Abbi realized then
that she had misjudged Frank. He was just a man doing his job. He still had a
heart.

Abbi returned to
Louise to let her know what had just happened. Before she could talk, Agent
Sobori came over for Louise. Apparently they had a plan for her as well but no
one was telling details. Mr. Pelletier was talking with the other analysts.
Before long, Abbi and Louise were told to go to their room, get a good night’s
sleep, and stay there until further notice.

“OK, let’s talk!”
Abbi said when she and Louise were back in the room.

“Is it safe? No
two-way mirrors? I’m so jumpy. I don’t think I can sleep here.”

“We’re in this
together! It looks like maybe they’re giving you some more responsibility? I
want you to tell me everything you know.”

“At this point I
don’t think there’s anything I could tell you.”

“Fair enough, but
if you think of something, let me know.” Abbi knew Louise was being evasive,
like a cat that would release the bird it was hiding.

“What if people in
headquarters are watching us?” Louise asked.

“They might be
watching the hallway to make sure we stay put, but they’re not going to watch
us,” Abbi said, though she wasn’t convinced. “On second thought, if I hear a
trumpet doing ‘Charge!’ when I undress, I’ll know better.”

“Fair enough, but
just know that they might be.”

As a precaution, Abbi
retrieved a towel from the bathroom and draped it over the mirror on the wall
between their suite and headquarters.

“There!” Abbi
said. “OK now?”

Louise laughed.
“That’s just silly, but fine.”

Abbi took a moment
to check the bed’s comfort level. There was no comfort level. The bed was simply
two cots side by side sharing the same bedding. Nevertheless, she was tired and
knew her body could sleep.

“This place is a
little creepy,” Louise said, looking under the cots. “It’s not a bed at all!
Just cots! Not even a mattress! Nothing is what it appears to be!”

Abbi checked for
hidden cameras and bugging devices while Louise inspected their sleeping
arrangements.

“Government
surplus cots, I think,” Abbi said with a laugh. “Lots of things aren’t as they
appear. The walls, the mirrors, things that move.”

“Things that go
bump in the night,” Louise said. She yawned. “I’m so glad my dad’s here. He
said my mother would be here tomorrow.”

“Your mother too?
Is she an analyst or a spy? Or are they the same?”

“Can be. Yeah. OK.
She analyzes. Works with data. There is one thing you might not know. Your
parents take a lot of risks. As I understand it, they’re the stuntmen, quite a
bit different than my parents. Not many people can or would do some of the
things they do. I think your dad acts as bodyguard when your mom gets into
stuff.”

“Yeah. That’s how
he got hurt,” Abbi said, reflecting, remembering the interview. “Body guard and
rescue stuff. That explains why we would take rappelling trips and such things.
They were always trying out new things, new gadgets, new ways to move. Confined
space rescue. Learning the GPS system. And they’d drag me along. I did a lot of
hiking as a kid.”

“I used to think
they were just nuts,” Louise admitted.

“When I was
little, I thought they were burning up energy because they had such boring
jobs!” Abbi said with a laugh. “Some shoe business! They really “danced” around
the truth. They even had business cards, Fred’s Boots Incorporated. Really! I
couldn’t find the business on the Internet. So then I thought, everything’s on
the Internet, why not Fred’s Boots? That was my first big clue.”

“My parents talk a
lot about how amazing your parents are, and how much like them you are, that
thing about the apple not falling far from the tree.”

Abbi grinned and felt
her nose burning as tears welled up in her eyes. Words could not express how
proud she felt of her parents. Being like them in some ways would be pretty
cool.

“Hey, why not
Fred’s Boots? On the Internet. We could start our own investigations!”

“Three reasons,
Louise. For one, it’s not really boots. Two, we’re not licensed to investigate
anything, and three, we don’t do investigations. Remember?”

“Oh, that’s where
you’re wrong! You investigate! Think about it. You got into your mother’s
computer! Not everyone could have found the stuff you found. That was pretty
good!”

“Wait! What’s
this?” Abbi said, pointing to a device by the door.

“Oh, that thing?
It’s a kind of sensor. The CIA uses them all the time.”

“What’s it do?”

“It records
sounds. It’s a voice activated digital spy bug.”

“Really, Louise.
You surprise me. I wish I’d known it was here. So they are listening to us?”

“It’s not us they
want to hear. Other sounds, just to keep us safe,” Louise said.

“Funny, I don’t
remember seeing it before.”

Abbi studied it.