Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (29 page)

“I had a feeling,
that’s all. I love the way he had to run to catch us when we left him in the
subway. The museum should be just a block over this way. Right?” she asked
Louise, indicating the direction she thought they should go. “We’d better get
moving.”

They walked along slowly.
Though Abbi had hoped to reach the museum before 3 p.m., she owed it to Louise
to be gentle on her feet.

Before long, they
saw a familiar face ahead of them. Lowell, looking fit and trim and
surprisingly not out of breath, had somehow ditched the disguise and appeared
as himself. He waited for them on down the street.

“How’d you…” Abbi
started. Lowell had always done things like that.

“They gave me the
job of being your bodyguard to see that you got here safely. I didn’t mean to
scare you, Weezy.” He laughed.

“You ASS! I
described your disguise to you!”

Lowell said, “Not
to interrupt the fun, but I have to get you ladies to headquarters pronto.
Things are in the works for a final attempt at a drop.”

“A final attempt?”

“Oh, and Calista
texted. She’ll be joining us to interpret. HT wants her,” Lowell said. “And she
wants to meet you, Abbi.”

“Calista?” Abbi
asked.

“A girl I met on
campus. Helps interpret for Red Cross. Figured she might be useful here.”

Only because you
wanted her here, Abbi thought as she felt a twinge of jealousy. No, Abbi, don’t
be petty. Of course he has girlfriends.

“How convenient
for you!” Louise said to Lowell, still ready to punch his face in. “I know guys
who speak Spanish.”

“Wait a minute,
Lowell. How does she know about me?”

“I told her about
your parents. Calista would like to work in D.C. Maybe this will be her ticket
in.”

“She knows
about my parents?”

 “Sort of. She’d
like to get into this kind of work.”

“YOU TOLD HER
ABOUT MY PARENTS?”

“She asked.
Calista and HT had been talking. She doesn’t have an internship, but maybe
she’ll land something. She’s taking the money from her modeling jobs to move. Her
parents say they’re getting a divorce. She just wants to get away from them if
she can. Besides, she speaks Spanish fluently. So, Calista may be joining us
later,” Lowell said.

Oh great, Abbi
thought. She’s also a model.

“Will she be on
payroll?” Abbi asked, suddenly very skeptical of someone new being brought in.

“Not yet but, like
I said, she’s been talking with Mrs. Hightower.”

Abbi looked
sideways at Lowell to read his face and wondered. She decided she’d be better
off to change the topic.

“Your disguise.
Whose idea was that?” Abbi asked. “That’s a pretty different look for you, not
exactly GQ.”

            “An improvement, I
think!” Louise said.

Lowell smirked at his
sister and said it was something Big Sam came up with. Now that they’d slammed
him, Abbi decided to find out what he knew.

“The suicide
bomber. Who did he work for?” Abbi asked.

“You didn’t hear
it from me. NM, probably. Ever hear of them?”

“Yes, Lowell,
but…”

 “We’re close.
From now on, you don’t even know my name. Call me Gate Keeper. Anyway, we’re
waiting to see if NM claims responsibility. Of course, no one will since
neither of their bombing attempts succeeded. I’ll see you at headquarters,”
Lowell said. “I’ve got to get up there and prepare for one more person.”

“Mrs. Hightower
approves?”

“Yeah, it was her
idea! I think she must like her!”

He suddenly left
them in a brisk walk.

Something felt
wrong,
very
wrong. Abbi realized it might be better not to reveal what
she suspected. There were people in positions to know, but she wondered if, like
dogs barking up the wrong tree, the analysts were simply wrong.

In the meantime,
they had a missing shoe to find. If she was going to help them, she shouldn’t
let some unrelated distraction delay the mission, not NM and not some girl
named Calista.

The spy museum was
now within sight. The secret headquarters for Operation Missing Shoe was
getting set up upstairs.

Abbi’s phone rang.
It was Big Sam.

“In character,
Miss Kowalski! And stay in character wherever you go. Even in your apartment at
headquarters. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I think so. Where
are you?” Abbi asked

“Never mind that. There
are things you need to know. Your mother’s brother was killed a few years ago
by the same group that tried to control Tina, the girl your mother rescued.
That group is huge, growing quickly and now expanding internationally. Dangerous.
New factions aren’t always in line with the original focus.”

“NM2?” Abbi asked
for clarification.

“The same. Your
uncle was my best friend. There was a witness to the killing. Now you know who
that was.”

“I’m not sure, but
I’m beginning to suspect. Mrs. Hightower?”

“You got it! She
was there when it happened.”

“Oh?”

Funny that all of
a sudden everyone seemed to want to fill Abbi in with details.

 “NM2 isn’t
playing around. Watch your back at all times.”

“Thanks for the
info, Big Sam! I’ve been trying to! All these red shoelaces are making me a
little jumpy though. I’m afraid I’ll miss the real thing.”

            “Trust your instincts. See
you soon, Miss Kowalski. If you call me, or HT or GK, say that you’re looking
for the missing shoe. That’s also your pass phrase at headquarters. Good luck.”

Louise started to
point to the famous Ford Theatre. Abbi pushed her hand down.

“Sorry!” Louise
said quietly.

“You should be near
the temporary headquarters by now, Miss Kowalski,” Big Sam said.

“We have arrived,”
Abbi said and the phone clicked.

Abbi and Louise
approached the International House of Spies. The signs on the tall brick
building in downtown Washington revealed espionage in a somewhat playful
manner. Neon signs of spies and flickering strobe lights added to the glitz and
fit in with the neighboring tourist shops.

Lowell met them on
the sidewalk near the museum, looking cool, like he’d done nothing but stand
and wait.

“Don’t get the
wrong impression. This place isn’t just fun and games. It takes a lot of guts
to pull off this kind of display. You’ll see,” Lowell said.

“You mean some of
the stuff in the museum is real?” Louise asked.

“Correct. Every
display took time to negotiate, to reveal only the information that can be
released to the public. As you enter, it is extremely important to retain your
new identity throughout your stay here, whether you’re downstairs in the museum
or upstairs in the Bureau’s temporary headquarters. Again, the people in
headquarters will not know your identity, for your own safety.”

 “Yes, sir!” Abbi
said. “I’m sure we can do this. Right, Foo Foo?”

“Foo Foo?” Lowell
asked.

“Mademoiselle Soufflé,”
said Louise, as she cast a sideways glance at Abbi. “I will do my best. Miss
Kowalski doesn’t make it easy for me though.”

“I’m sure,” Lowell
said. “But I think she may start trying harder, considering what’s at stake.”

Lowell looked at
the building on the corner and then his eyes swept the surroundings, sucking it
all in like a vacuum cleaner.

“Ladies, I’ve
already said too much. Good thing you’re here. This is where I leave you. Pay your
admission to the museum but stay in character. We think you’ll be safe here. Could
I take your briefcases up to your room?”

Abbi looked up at
Lowell and knew it would be alright. She had finally arrived. This was the
point of delivery. She had already memorized the many facts from her mother’s
notes and unfinished report, but letting go of the briefcase was not easy.

“Don’t let
anything happen to this,” Abbi said. “Incredibly important stuff.”

“It will be with
me until I can lock it in your room. Someone will let you know when your room
is ready.”

“Here?” Louise
asked.

“Yes. We’re
housing you here. Remember, you don’t know me. I’m just the Gate Keeper, GK. Stay
in the museum until you hear from either me or Big Sam. Now, if you will, right
this way. Enjoy the museum.”

Abbi and Louise
entered the spy museum and, within five minutes of purchasing tickets and
getting the museum wristband, GK texted the girls: ROOM IS READY. DOWN SOON TO
GET YOU. MEET ME AT THE BOOKCASE IN THE SECOND ROOM.

            Louise looked
perplexed.

“We just got our
tickets! I thought we’d get to look around,” she said, trying hard to take in
the many different displays in the first room of the spy museum.

            “Maybe this is all we
get. Remember why we’re here, Miss Soufflé,” Abbi said as she looked at a
display showing a well-known and deeply-loved chef who had once been a spy. “This
is pretty spectacular! Who knew?”

            As the girls moved past
the displays to get to the second room, they saw some visitors playing a game. The
visitors used assumed names and played different roles as they worked together
to solve a mystery.

            “I want to play!” Louise
said with her best French accent.

            “We already are,
Mademoiselle. We’re just in a different game. We need to go to the next room.”

            As the girls entered
the adjoining room, the door behind them automatically closed. In front of them
was a large wooden bookcase. Instructions had said to go to the room beyond the
bookcase.

Suddenly they
heard the unmistakable blare of a trumpet, as if it announced the approach of royalty.
The bookcase suddenly slid sideways and revealed a hallway. GK approached them.
With his trumpet still in hand, he lowered it from his lips.

Abbi tried hard to
stay in character but wondered if playing a trumpet made lips as kissable as
she imagined.

“Was that as fun
for you as it was for me?” Abbi asked, teasing to put him on the spot.

As if he didn’t
hear, GK grandly said, “Welcome, Miss Kowalski, Miss Soufflé!” Then he bowed
low, and hustled them into another chamber, not open to the public. He had a
role to play as well.

Others in the room
they left behind may have thought it was actors staged by the museum. Abbi
imagined they would try to find a secret latch.

The bookcase slid
back in place. GK led Louise and Abbi over to sit on a 1930’s chaise lounge in
a room that had been designed to reconstruct the time of the gangsters during
prohibition. He quickly updated them on what had transpired with negotiations.
FBI had confirmed that Miss Shoe remained in tight seclusion in Mexico, still
being held for ransom by her kidnappers. To complicate things, Lowell said, the
powerful organization that held Miss Shoe also demanded other concessions that
would interfere with our justice system. Abbi didn’t understand what that was
about but she figured that both the FBI and NM2 were angry about the prior
failed attempts at ransom. Things did not look good, but lucky for the FBI, the
rescue team had not fallen into NM2’s trap. Neither had NM2 fallen into the
snare the FBI might have set. Obviously, neither side trusted the other.

Abbi swallowed
hard. The ups and downs of this mission were taking a toll on her nerves.

“We’ve made
arrangements for you to see a man in the hospital, someone innocently injured
in the line of duty.”

“Thank you,” Abbi gushed.
“That means so much.”

“Yes, Miss
Kowalski,” said GK mechanically. “He’s a good man. Follow me.”

The girls were led
to a wall of heavy wooden paneling. Although it might not be apparent to a
person passing through, one panel was actually a hidden door. GK unlocked it,
using just his thumbprint on a tiny pad placed in a knot of the wood.

The door began to
swivel enough to allow them to pass through a small opening. Then GK took them
up through a dark narrow staircase that led to an equally narrow upstairs
hallway. At least it was brightly lit. A row of doors lined one side of the hallway.
Lowell unlocked one of the doors, again using only his thumbprint, and opened
it to a small suite, complete with bed, couch, bathroom and a tiny kitchen.

“This is where
you’ll stay,” GK said.

“In this apartment
above the museum?” Louise asked. “How…?”

“It’s too obvious
to be obvious.”

“I hear you!” Abbi
said.

“If you leave this
apartment and go down the hall,” GK continued, “you’ll see our headquarters for
operations.” He handed them small plastic cards and added, “These are your
keycards. Keep them with you at all times. You can safely stash your things in
this apartment. Your briefcases are already here in the closet. You will have a
couple of hours of free time today if nothing goes wrong. Just in case, keep
your phones nearby. Keep them charged. Someone will be watching you at all
times.”

From another
entrance Big Sam appeared with their bags from the airport and said, “I don’t
want to scare you girls, but you are aware that this is a serious matter we are
dealing with. Keep a low profile. Don’t make my job more difficult than you
already have. Clock in at 1700 at HQ.”

“Thank you, Big
Sam! Good to see you,” Abbi said.

“1700 hours,” Big
Sam said.

He looked down. The
bulk of his body seemed to grow heavier. Did she continually upset him?

Abbi shook her
head and turned to Lowell.

“To clarify,
that’s 5 o’clock this afternoon. Headquarters,” GK said, nodding down the hall
as he started to leave.

“Got it,” Louise
said. “Is Scott anywhere around?”

Big Sam sighed.

GK added, “The
responsibility will rest on you ladies to be at headquarters on time,
precisely. As Gate Keeper, I have my orders also. Do as I say or I cannot let
you enter. Knock two times, only two, and give your password. When you get in,
listen. Speak only when spoken to. Stay safe.”