We just make it back to the compound before the call with Hector's father. At first I fear that Tomás will tell me to get lost, but when I sit down at the conference table, his only objection is a brief furrowing of his brows.

I struggle from the start to follow the conversation, but after a few minutes, Hector comes to my rescue. "Papá, we have a new member on the team. Her name is Stacy Rizo and she's an American. She'sthe daughter-in-law of President Rizo. He felt that she could be of help since she's familiar with Western culture. However, her Spanish is limited, so it might be best to have these calls in English."

"Ella puede confiar?"

Can she be trusted? Of course he questions that.

Tomás jumps in. "No creo que tenemos mucho de una opción. La orden vino directamente del Presidente Rizo."

Smooth. Since the order came directly from Santino, Tomás will be able to put the blame on him if I turn out to be a traitor.

"Muy bien. Let's continue this in English then." The man's accent is so light that he must've had formal language training. "The next shipment is scheduled for the end of the week. Distribution will be easy once the product hits American soil because holiday partying will be at its peak. That is, if the product isn't intercepted. What safeguards are in place?"

"New route and new pilots. That's all we can do for now."

"Not a new plane as I suggested." The disapproval seeps from the words.

Hector and Tomás exchange a glance.

"There's no money for that, Papá."

"Dios mío, what have you been doing? I thought you had that covered."

"We put the last funds into the development of the new—"

"Let's not get into that right now." Tomás's icy stare is on me. It's obviously something he doesn't want to discuss in front of me.

The sudden silence is awkward. Hector is occupied with getting his pen to work while Tomás glares out the window. The only sound in the room is the slight static drifting through the line.

"Por qué no vos llamarme en una hora? Solo."

Hector's dad wants them to call him back. Alone. This could be my expulsion from the drug trade before I even have a chance to contribute—something I need to avoid at all costs—though I have no idea how to stand up to Tomás. His jaw is clenched and he grinds his teeth, making a muscle jump. He's fed up. During basic training, it was his tell-tale sign before he chewed out a recruit who dared to question an order.

"As to the delivery, let's go ahead as planned. Is entry covered?"

"Sí. It's the new airport. The only risk is the plane."

"Bueno. Is there anything you want to add, Stacy?"

I would if I truly knew what was going on. Glancing at Tomás, he offers me a smug smile. He knows that this call was a waste of time. The statements made were so vague that I could never figure out any specifics. "Maybe Hector can give me the details about the delivery after the call so I can see if I can be of help?"

The smile fades from Tomás's lips, but before he can interject, Hector's father seals the deal. "I think that might be a good starting point if you want to be involved. Hector? Tomás? Anything to add?"

Silence except for the white noise in the line.

"Bien. Hablaremos más adelante." Hector's father cuts the line.

Tomás offers a thin smile. "I'll take Stacy back to the mansion."

"But I thought that Hector—"

"You've heard enough for today." Tomás gets to his feet and stretches, his T-shirt straining over his toned body as if it's about to rip at the seams. A faint strip of skin shows. I can't help but gawk, which earns me one of his signature smirks. He undoubtedly knows how hot he is.

He loses no time ushering me out of the building and into the Jeep. It's almost a half hour drive to the mansion from here, so he's cutting it close if he wants to be back for the call with Hector's dad. I barely get my seatbelt fastened before he takes off.

"Do you think I could get my own computer?" I shout over the rushing airflow. "And a phone?"

"One day."

"Maybe I should ask Santino. I'm sure he'd get it for me since he wants me involved."

The glance Tomás tosses me is murderous. "Why don't you just rejoin the army? Go on patrol. That's something you're good at."

So this is how he intends to get rid of me. "No, thanks. I think I'll enjoy the business side of things." A thought crosses my mind. "What about Miguel's laptop? Can't I use his old one?"

"Hector is using it."

"Oh, that's too bad. What about his phone?"

"It's broken."

How convenient. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Pulling up to the house, he releases my seatbelt and smiles. "You should take a few days off. After what you've been through with the rebels, a little rest will do you good. The way you look, you're about to collapse."

Although I'm tired, I wouldn't go that far. "I know you don't want me involved, but please, just give me one chance to prove myself. For old time's sake. You yourself said I was a good solider, so let me show you that I'm also good at the business side of things."

He turns away with puckered lips. I stare at his back while I wait for him to shoot me down.

"Please, Tomás. All I'm asking for is one chance."

He slowly turns. I hold his gaze as his eyes seem to pierce little holes in my soul.

"Okay, I'll let Hector get you up to speed on this week's delivery. If this one doesn't make it through, you're out. Deal?"

I will make sure that there won't be any hiccups. "Deal."

~~~~

When I get to the orphanage just after lunch the next day, it's raining heavily. I grab my backpack with my old Kindle from the backseat and turn to Fabricio.

"I usually read to the kids and then have coffee with Mr. Moore, so pick me up in two hours."

He leans out the window and stares at the sky. "I will wait."

Usually, showers don't last that long in Malaguay, but it has been raining on and off all morning. While I was in the office with Hector, the constant pitter-patter was relaxing, but out here, it's just plain miserable. I can barely make out the contour of the buildings and the football pitch through the sheets of rain.

Getting out of the car, I shudder and head toward the administration building. Pearson isn't in his office, but when I turn around, Brody has materialized behind me.

I hit him in the shoulder. "You scared me."

"Sorry. Are you looking for Pearson?"

"Actually, I need to speak to Devon. Can you get him here?"

"Sure. He's staying at the teachers' cabins just half a mile up in the woods, so it won't take long to get him down here."

"Okay, then I'll wait for him in the shed."

Taking the path in between the buildings, I attempt to avoid most of the puddles that have converted the ground into a mud slide. Raindrops tap the top of my cap, some of the moisture dripping off the front visor and running down my face like fat tears. When one of the raindrops hangs off the tip of my nose, I wipe it away. Horrible weather.

Just before I reach the shed, Pearson's old mutt lunges at me from behind a pile of stacked wood and starts to bark. His paws leave muddy streaks on my cargo pants. Not really a fan of dogs, I try to get him off me. I'm scared of his snapping teeth. Luckily, Pearson comes rushing from the mess hall to my aid. With one pull, he has full control of the beast.

"That's enough, Bear. Settle down." He gives me a crooked smile. "Sorry, but he goes crazy in the rain. Otherwise, he's useless."

When I'd visited the orphanage with Naiara before, he was always sleeping. "It's fine. I'm meeting Devon and then I want to read to the boys."

"You're doing that again?"

"It's a good cover for coming here, don't you think?"

"I suppose, and the boys can use all the help they can get. Except for Brody, there are no teachers left. No money and no applicants."

A certain fatigue haunts his face that didn't use to be there. Hopefully, things will get easier once we get the funding sorted and some stability returns to the country. The boys deserve an education and some happiness in their lives.

I crack the door to the garden shed open and peek inside through a small gap. The hinges creak as the door swings softly in the wind. When I'm about to squeeze inside, a dark figure appears at the tree line of the forest. I squint through the rain to make out Devon's face.

As he crosses the yard with a few strides, I check the small path between the mess hall and the dorms to ensure that Fabricio didn't follow me. All stays quiet and I open the door to the shed fully to let Devon go in first. When I notice several bruises on his face, my brows knit together. "Did you get into a fight?"

"One of the rebel leaders didn't like my strategy and decided to resort to violence to underline his point." He huffs. "But enough about me. How is it going?"

"Okay, I guess." The last two nights, I had pondered long and hard about my options before concluding that any form of reasoning will be lost on him. No matter how much I insist, he won't pull me out, afraid of what a botched mission would do to his career. Tomás will shoot me if I come clean. For the moment, my best and safest choice will be to play along and cover my back as much as possible.

When I remain quiet, Devon clears his throat. I assume it's his way of insisting I should elaborate.

"So far, everyone is buying the story that I was captured by the rebels, though I can tell Tomás is still on the fence about it. He thought it was funny when I first brought up that I wanted to be included in the drug business, but then Santino ordered him to include me, kind of like a secret weapon to beat the DEA. A big delivery is planned for Friday." Elena's face flashes in front of me—this drug run has to work or people will be starving. Even Pearson won't be able to sustain the orphanage much longer. It's critical that we get some money back into the country. "I need you to ease up and let this one through to establish my position. Otherwise, Tomás will try to kick me out of the funding business."

"I'll see what I can do." His crooked smile isn't very encouraging.

"I mean it, Devon."

"Don't worry, I'll get it done."

Somehow, I can't shake the feeling that he doesn't have as much influence over Harold and his DEA buddies as I thought. Maybe this part of the plan isn't going to work.

"How is Araya these days?" Devon's voice has an innocent ring to it, an indication that this is a burning question on his mind.

"Okay." Since his brush with alcohol a couple of nights ago, he has been pulling himself back together. Today, during lunch, he was his usual, insufferable self, arguing with me about the Fabricio arrangement. He called it preposterous that I had my own driver. Only when I pointed out that it had been Santino's idea did he finally give in.

"So he has no plans to retrieve Rosanna's book?"

"He hasn't mentioned anything."

"Shit." Devon draws in a long breath through tight lips. "That was supposed to pull him out of his reserve."

Although the timing of Pearson's discovery was suspicious from the get-go, I had hoped it was a coincidence. "So this was a setup?"

"Of course." Devon snorts. "Did you seriously believe that Pearson conveniently found the book? Such coincidences do not exist."

My gaze drops—I hate that he's playing with someone's emotions. Tomás might be a contender for the jerk-of-the-year award, but to blatantly cause him distress is not the right thing to do either. No one deserves to have their feelings exploited and I'm ashamed that I'm caught up in the situation. Causing Tomás pain was never part of our agreement.

"Did you manage to get any closer to him?" Devon's question sits like a stone in the pit of my stomach. It's another part of the plan I'm not comfortable with.

"No, not yet." An idea pushes to the front of my mind—this could be Shauna's ticket out of Malaguay. I already didn't follow through the last time; in fact, when I got back to the States, my inability to help Shauna had always irked me. I owe her. "With his wife in the picture, it has proven quite difficult. Tomás is devoted to her and the baby." I hold his gaze without flinching, just the way Daniel taught me in training when I needed to smooth over a lie.

The sudden silence is unhinging. Rain pounds against the shed's window and its even drumming on the sheet-metal roof is like background music for impending doom. Times seems to crawl.

He finally breaks the silence. "Stacy, all our intel shows that he and Shauna have a nonexistent marriage. He only uses her as a maid and has not attempted to bond with his daughter in any way." His eyes narrow. "Are you having some morality crisis here?"

"Well." My smile is crooked. I don't really have an answer to that.

"You knew what was expected of you before you came here. I was upfront about it."

"You were, but there's also a lot you didn't tell me. I want to know about Rosanna."

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head. "If you know too much, you run the risk of blabbing, which could blow your cover."

"Then I want Shauna gone." I ignore his frown. "As a personal favor."

A small smile twitches his lips. "That's what this is about, isn't it? She isn't in the way as much as you want to help her."

Since he answered his own question, I refuse to respond. Staring out the window, I wait for his verdict.

"I understand she's your friend and you feel sorry for her, but there's no way I can get her out. She isn't an American citizen; hell, I'm not even sure they didn't revoke her Irish citizenship. Maybe if Tomás voluntarily lets her go and initiates divorce proceedings, I could pull some strings and get her on a flight home, but not the way it stands now."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. All this political red tape is giving me a headache. "Can you at least check into it?"

After a slight hesitation, he nods. "Sure."

The word hangs over the room like a dark cloud—I'm almost certain it's a lie and he has no intention to help Shauna. I'll have to try to find her another escape route.

With a sigh, I turn around to leave. Incredible frustration claws at my already frayed nerves. I've lost another battle. I open the door and stare gloomily out into the falling rain. Why can't he be supportive for once? I'm already helping him, so he should do the same. No doubt he could do more if he just tried a little harder and didn't hide behind some bureaucratic crap. The thoughts turn the frustration into bubbling anger—he'll have to do better than this.

I spin around. "I want the book."

A hint of a smile spreads on his lips. "I reckoned you'd be asking for it eventually." Out of the side pocket of his jacket, he produces the leather-bound book and holds it up. "Be careful. This is a sore topic for him, so we're not sure how he will react if you start digging around in the past. Best to put it into play without any conditions attached. If he wants to tell you about Rosanna, he will."

"Okay, I got it." After Tomás's reaction to Pearson's demand, it's obvious he's immune to blackmail, but he'll owe me if I turn the diary over to him. Burying the book deep into the pocket of my raincoat, I step outside without bothering with a goodbye. Now I just need to decide how and when I should give it to him.

Even though I promised Pearson I would take some time out to read to the boys, it'll take too long today. I'm eager to get back to the compound to talk to Hector and Tomás. Devon's hesitant face about this week's delivery sticks like glue to my mind. My gut instincts tell me that something will go wrong. I can't let that happen—not only because of the deal I made with Tomás, but also for Elena and the other children. They deserve some food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads.

After Fabricio drives me back, I find both Tomás and Hector in Miguel's old office. They are huddled over paperwork at the conference table and I drop into the chair across from them without waiting for an invitation. Tomás raises a brow, but I ignore him.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about how the DEA could be intercepting the shipments. The only thing I can come up with is that they've got some insider information."

Tomás frowns. "Is that your way of confessing that you gave your countrymen intel?"

My lips twist as if I'm offended. "You know how secretive Miguel was. Do you seriously believe I could've learned anything of value in those few days he taught me about the business?"

Tomás gives me one of his evil glares. It takes all my effort not to look away.

"Then how did the DEA get the information?" Hector asks after an eternity of pressing silence.

"Miguel's old laptop." I tear my gaze away from Tomás to focus on Hector. "When he was home, he always kept it in his study at the mansion, so it must've been there the night the rebels raided the place. What if they hacked into the computer and transferred the files? The Americans supply them with weapons, so it might've been their way of repaying them."

Hector nods. "That makes sense"

"Stupido." Tomás huffs. "Miguel's laptop was encrypted, and even I had to contact a source in the US to get it unlocked. How could the rebels have gotten into those files during an active attack? They don't have the skills and had plenty of other stuff to worry about that night."

His glare is so intense that my shirt sticks to my back from the sudden cold sweat. He is so on to me. Tipping him off with the laptop was a huge mistake.

Chasing thoughts trip up my mind as I try to find a logical explanation to divert his suspicion. "I heard English shouts that night. What if the Americans were with them? I mean, you said yourself that their black-ops teams support the rebels during some of the attacks. I'm sure they would've had a way to break into the computer."

The pressing silence continues. Tomás's stare seems to dissect every part of my brain. The cold sweat has reached my neck.

Keep your cool. Most liars give themselves away.

Daniel's advice is oddly calming and I manage a crooked smile. "After all the intercepted shipments, maybe we should just play it safe. I mean, what would be the harm if we ignored everything Miguel was doing and started from scratch?"

The silence is so nerve-racking that I mentally sigh in relief when Tomás finally tears his gaze away. "I still don't think the Americans had a way of breaking into Miguel's encrypted laptop, but as you said, better safe than sorry. Let's send an empty plane and see if it's intercepted."

Hector nods. "Okay, but that doesn't solve the pressing issue at hand. How are we going to bring the product into America? We made a commitment to our supplier for one more shipment this year. Plus, we need the money or there won't be a next time."

"What if someone with diplomatic papers smuggles them in?" I say. "The authorities are not supposed to check them, and even if they do, diplomatic immunity would apply and they couldn't prosecute." At least that one stuck as a valuable lesson learned from Devon.

Tomás snorts. "You want to ask the president to become a drug mule?"

"I was thinking more about Juana. Since she lives in New York as part of her UN assignment, she must travel back and forth quite a bit. Another trip shouldn't raise suspicion."

Tomás puckers his lips. "That might actually work. Juana is expected home for a few days over Christmas, and she could take it back on the official government plane. Once might be okay, though this couldn't become a regular channel since we can't risk the UN imposing new embargoes."

Hector pulls his phone from his pocket. "I'll let my dad know that we'll be flying an empty plane on Friday to test Stacy's theory. Once we know for sure, Juana can take the product to keep us afloat for at least the first few weeks of the new year. That will also buy us some time to come up with a new distribution idea."

I can't hide a grin of triumph. They're actually going to go with one of my suggestions. When I meet Tomás's gaze, he gives me one of his rare, genuine smiles.

"Let's see if you were right, Stacy."

~~~~

© Sal Mason 2016

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