DONE AND UNDONE
Violet sat on her berth below deck with the door locked, and patiently sewed the stones one at a time into her clothing. Three small ones were stitched meticulously into the hem of her skirt. One more into the waistband. One in each cuff of her jacket. She placed the remaining four larger stones into plastic capsules and inserted them into her rectum. She then laid back across the bed with an exhausted sense of accomplishment.
These stones, if moved as planned, would create a small fortune. She and Balthazaar could live care free. Her mother too, and Ricardo. In her sleep she felt as though a cold hand was moving over her body. It felt pleasant at first, but then more insistent. Squeezing. Tugging at her. She awoke abruptly to find a man on top of her, pulling down his pants. She screamed and yanked his thick and greasy hair with both hands. His fist came up, it was the last thing she remembered.
THE PREGNANT PAUSE
Balthazaar paced nervously around the motel room smoking cigarettes. He stopped now and then at the window to peer down onto the streets of Tampico.
"Something has gone wrong," he thought to himself. "She should have been back hours ago." He picked up his binoculars and looked out to the docks where he had watched her board the boat.
From his room at the old hotel he had watched the several men talking to her on the pier. They appeared to be cordial and polite. Kissing her hand in greeting - gesturing grandly to their boat where the deal would go down. But, in this trade, it is the middle-men you have to worry about. Between the source of any high dollar commodity and its destination they are the necessary ones who move the item, be it diamonds, guns, drugs, women, or children. And they can be cut-throat and hungry and always looking for ways to play both sides. Coyotes in tailored suits can never be taken for granted. There was a sense of panic as he had watched them help her onto the boat. They would be gone for several hours.
He had watched the boat grow smaller and smaller out there on the waters of the gulf. He had watched until he couldn't see them anymore. He pulled a chair up next to the window and lit a cigarette, looking nervously at his watch. He thought about that day when the Americans in their space ship had circled around and disappeared on the dark side of the moon. There was no communication after that, and the world had held its breath. There was no turning back now. And Violet had disappeared somewhere out there on the dark side of the moon. He picked up his binoculars and scanned along the horizon of the empty sea.
THE VERY IDEA
Balthazaar thought back about that night when they had all sat around Josephina's table mapping out the plan. He and Violet had fantasized the notion of pulling off a deal of some kind. It was a joke at first, over wine. How to make a quick buck. A one time move that would make life easy. Josephina was talking about a major jade deposit that had been discovered in central South America, and how it quickly disappeared when an earthquake had created a lake in the valley beneath which the jade vein had been found. It was said to be a lost fortune. They had so many laughs imagining ways to be rich. Violet thought they should get a small printing outfit and figure out how to counterfeit money. But, it was Ricardo who took it all to another place.
Ricardo had a very organized mind. He was like an engineer, in ways. So he began to map out an idea. A plan. The whole mood of the conversation got more serious when he mentioned a contact he had in South Africa. An old friend from school days. His friend had been sent down there to consult with a firm that was specializing in precious metals and stones.
"So basically, my friend realized he might find his own niche in working with these people," Ricardo said. "To help them move such materials to the marketplace most effectively. He was keen on marketing. He knew how to make them more money. After awhile, he was doing quite well. In fact, over liquor one night he told me he had figured out ways to move some diamonds himself, independent of this firm he worked for.
"Are you still in touch with your friend?" Balthazaar remembered asking him. Ricardo nodded. They had all looked back and forth at each other that night. And they had agreed that it just might be possible to do it. It didn't seem all that scary at the time. But that was then, and this is now.
GOING SOUTH
Balthazaar drove away from Tampico knowing something was wrong. Violet had not returned as planned. He cursed himself for allowing her to board that boat. Ricardo had thought she would be perfect for the job. He had agreed. They all had agreed. Violet could hypnotize men with a simple glance.
He headed south along the coast stopping at one port after another looking for that boat she had left on. He felt increasingly desperate. He stopped to rest in Tuxpan. At a bar he sat nursing beers. His mind was overflowing with both the memories of his love, and the questions of where she was now. It is maddening when things go wrong and you don't know why. A young man sat down next to him. A mestizo. He said his name was Pablo, but you never know who anyone really is in places such as this. He was on the road, he said. Headed north.
"Would you do me this favor?" Balthazaar asked. "I need to send a dear friend a message. Are you going through Cerro Azul by any chance?"
The young man shrugged.
"I hadn't planned to, but I could, I suppose." Balthazaar smiled.
"Where are you headed?" he asked the adventurous boy.
"America," he replied with a big toothy grin. Balthazaar smiled again.
"It's possible, if you know the right people. I have a friend in Cerro Azul. Her name is Dona Ana Villalobos. If you would give my message to her, she would know what to do with it - where it must go next. And she would know who might help you with where you want to go."
Balthazaar sat there at the bar and penned his note to Ricardo.
From Balthazaar...
08, July
"I squat somewhere in the clutter of crumpled papers on the floor in this room somewhere in the back of my mind....."
REALITY CHECK
Violet opened her eyes to a blurry stream of light pouring in from a window high above. She was captured for a moment by the particles of dust floating about in those rays like gnats on a sticky summer day. Her second thought was,
"Where am I?" She looked around quite confused at the strangeness she had awakened to. She wondered if she was still dreaming. It was so barren. Some place of abandonment. Some remnant of a bygone factory cold and dead. She fell back to the floor and passed out again.
When she woke up again, it was the same as before. Except more real. She was naked on the floor. A few feet away her clothes sat in a heap. She could tell by their tattered condition that the diamonds were gone. She pushed herself up on one elbow, and felt an overwhelming pain throughout her body. She fell back and passed out again. Her dreams were of many men between her legs. Dicking her. Hurting her. Holding her down. She awoke in a sweat and sat painfully up. Her body was bruised. Her arms were like lead. Her skin here and there encrusted with the dried scum of men getting off. She brushed it off feeling both disgust and some sense of strange shame come over her. There were empty needles on the floor. She counted them mechanically, wondering how many had raped her. Laying back down she ran her hand over her buttocks and felt for the capsules with her finger. She could feel two capsules. The other two, she would have to shit out if she lived to be that lucky. She passed out again.
to be continued...
Monday, February 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Evidence of Violet end of chapter one...
THE SLEEPING PRINCESS
They made it up the dark and winding road that ran countless zig-zags up the western slopes of the Sierra Madre Oriental range, and arrived in La Coma in the state of Tamaulipas just before dawn. On up above the small town, the snow-capped peaks seemed outlined in the first red glow of the sun just coming up on the other side.
Josephina pointed up toward it.
"Look, Ricardo, she lies there blushing," she said. He followed her gaze up the mountainside. The profile of the mountain top was said to resemble that of a woman reclining. Locals called her La Mujer Dormida, the 'sleeping woman', or sometimes,'the sleeping princess'. In ancient Aztec lore the formation had been known as Iztaccihuati; named after a legendary Aztec princess. For many years mixed blood Mestizos of the region have carried the legend forward even to this day. Josephina told him some Aztec blood courses through her, making her a Mestizo. And she recounted to him the ancient tragic love story of the princess and her warrior lover, Popocatepeti, numerous times.
"Popocatepeti was one of her father's warriors," she said. "She was led to believe her lover had died in war and so she then died of grief, not knowing it was a lie. When Popocatepeti returned from war, he was stricken with grief. He buried his princess, and the gods covered her with a white blanket of snow." She pointed to a volcano just north of The Sleeping Princess. "And there Popocatetepi is today. And now and then his anguish and rage still spills forth as molten red tears of lava."
They spent what little was left of the night at El Mirador, a small inn whose rooms were above a cantina by the same name. Hours later, they awoke to see how the sun had risen and how its rays now radiated away from The Sleeping Princess with a light so blinding one could not stare at her for long.
THE AIR
The morning air in the cantina was a mouth-watering mix of chile peppers roasting, chorizo in the skillets, and the aromatic fragrance of goat's head soup simmering in a wine based broth. A handful of locals sat at a long wooden table engaged in animated noisy conversation as a dark and lovely young girl replenished their coffee cups. A young couple from the states sat at a table by the window, their backpacks leaned up against the wall nearby. Outsiders came through La Coma for off-the- beaten-path kinds of experiences. Trails leading up the mountainside toward The Sleeping Princess ridge were popular with rugged hikers. There were waterfalls and an icy mountain lake along the way. And from atop the ridge the view to the other side was panoramic as the mountains descended into foothills that tumbled on down eventually to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico not quite visible some 200 miles away in the distance. And if one was particularly lucky one might glimpse an increasingly rare Andean condor gracefully circling and gliding as it rode a rising column of thermal updraft.
Josephina chattered with the cook in her native tongue. It had something to do with the soup. Did they remove the brain and prepare it separately, or leave it cooking in the skull? The brain was her favorite part. Josephina told her that her daughter Violet likes to come up to these mountains sometimes.
"Violet?" the woman repeated, with a nod. "Si, Violet. Very pretty, no?"
"Si," Josephina smiled.
Over breakfast, Josephina told Riccardo that the cook remembered Violet passing through a few weeks ago.
"And was Balthazaar with her?" he asked.
"I was afraid to ask for fear she might think we were looking for them," Josephina replied.
"Most likely they would have still been together at this point," Riccardo speculated. "If they somehow got separated, I think it would have been more likely over along the coast. In Tampico, maybe. Or somewhere along the way from there to Veracruz."
"How far away is Tampico?" Josephina asked.
"It shouldn't be too bad a drive. We are maybe thirty minutes away from the pass up and over to the east side of the mountains. It's a long downhill from there all the way to the coast. Maybe six or seven hours."
"Shall we go then?" Josephina asked.
"In a little while. First lets go back to our room and rest a bit more."
"Rest, Ricardo?" she smiled slyly.
"Yes. A little nap," he said. She laughed.
"Ricardo. Do you think I don't know what it is you are wanting?" He laughed in response. She stood and reached out her hand. "Come my little boy. I will give you what you need."
CHAPTER TWO
THE WAY STONES FEEL
Violet crossed her legs and leaned back, watching the men on the boat moving about and eying her. She sipped her drink, pretending not to notice their constant glances. At her legs. At her breasts. Her hair, a shaggy sun-bleached unbrushed mop. Her skin the color of wet sand. Her lips, a parched and cracked reddish brown. She was skinny almost to an anorexic fault. She gazed out at the sea in a dreamy way, but all the while knowing they all wanted to fuck her. She was in the company of dangerous men. But she had a good grip on it. Men and their dicks are no match for her.
In her hand bag were the essentials. Lipstick, a couple of condoms, a passport, a chrome-plated revolver, and an envelope full of money. She was ready to pull any of these from her purse, whatever the situation required. Balthazaar had thought of everything. Still her pulse was rapid. The adrenaline of knowing this is the real deal.
He sat down next to her.
"A sweet air mixed with salt, eh?" he said, inhaling the sea air. Violet turned to look at his pretentious face.
"Do you have something for me, or not?" she said, in a seductive voice. He placed a hand lightly on her knee and began to slide it up under her dress. She brushed it aside. "I am talking about business here, not pleasure."
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss....?"
"Miss Nobody to you." she said boldly, her hand already dipping into her purse for better or worse.
"Yes, of course, I am a man of my word." he said, fumbling in his pocket. Violet's fingers curled around the gun in her purse as she watched him. He produced a small cloth bag and emptied it into his palm. "Is this what you are looking for, perhaps?" The snarl on his lips as he said it, made her want to kill him on the spot. Instead, she just nodded. She let go of the gun and fumbled for the envelope of cash He poured the stones into her slender hand. She closed her fingers around them. She handed him the envelope. Now, it was just a matter of getting home alive.
WHAT WENT DOWN IN TAMPICO? (to be continued...)
They made it up the dark and winding road that ran countless zig-zags up the western slopes of the Sierra Madre Oriental range, and arrived in La Coma in the state of Tamaulipas just before dawn. On up above the small town, the snow-capped peaks seemed outlined in the first red glow of the sun just coming up on the other side.
Josephina pointed up toward it.
"Look, Ricardo, she lies there blushing," she said. He followed her gaze up the mountainside. The profile of the mountain top was said to resemble that of a woman reclining. Locals called her La Mujer Dormida, the 'sleeping woman', or sometimes,'the sleeping princess'. In ancient Aztec lore the formation had been known as Iztaccihuati; named after a legendary Aztec princess. For many years mixed blood Mestizos of the region have carried the legend forward even to this day. Josephina told him some Aztec blood courses through her, making her a Mestizo. And she recounted to him the ancient tragic love story of the princess and her warrior lover, Popocatepeti, numerous times.
"Popocatepeti was one of her father's warriors," she said. "She was led to believe her lover had died in war and so she then died of grief, not knowing it was a lie. When Popocatepeti returned from war, he was stricken with grief. He buried his princess, and the gods covered her with a white blanket of snow." She pointed to a volcano just north of The Sleeping Princess. "And there Popocatetepi is today. And now and then his anguish and rage still spills forth as molten red tears of lava."
They spent what little was left of the night at El Mirador, a small inn whose rooms were above a cantina by the same name. Hours later, they awoke to see how the sun had risen and how its rays now radiated away from The Sleeping Princess with a light so blinding one could not stare at her for long.
THE AIR
The morning air in the cantina was a mouth-watering mix of chile peppers roasting, chorizo in the skillets, and the aromatic fragrance of goat's head soup simmering in a wine based broth. A handful of locals sat at a long wooden table engaged in animated noisy conversation as a dark and lovely young girl replenished their coffee cups. A young couple from the states sat at a table by the window, their backpacks leaned up against the wall nearby. Outsiders came through La Coma for off-the- beaten-path kinds of experiences. Trails leading up the mountainside toward The Sleeping Princess ridge were popular with rugged hikers. There were waterfalls and an icy mountain lake along the way. And from atop the ridge the view to the other side was panoramic as the mountains descended into foothills that tumbled on down eventually to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico not quite visible some 200 miles away in the distance. And if one was particularly lucky one might glimpse an increasingly rare Andean condor gracefully circling and gliding as it rode a rising column of thermal updraft.
Josephina chattered with the cook in her native tongue. It had something to do with the soup. Did they remove the brain and prepare it separately, or leave it cooking in the skull? The brain was her favorite part. Josephina told her that her daughter Violet likes to come up to these mountains sometimes.
"Violet?" the woman repeated, with a nod. "Si, Violet. Very pretty, no?"
"Si," Josephina smiled.
Over breakfast, Josephina told Riccardo that the cook remembered Violet passing through a few weeks ago.
"And was Balthazaar with her?" he asked.
"I was afraid to ask for fear she might think we were looking for them," Josephina replied.
"Most likely they would have still been together at this point," Riccardo speculated. "If they somehow got separated, I think it would have been more likely over along the coast. In Tampico, maybe. Or somewhere along the way from there to Veracruz."
"How far away is Tampico?" Josephina asked.
"It shouldn't be too bad a drive. We are maybe thirty minutes away from the pass up and over to the east side of the mountains. It's a long downhill from there all the way to the coast. Maybe six or seven hours."
"Shall we go then?" Josephina asked.
"In a little while. First lets go back to our room and rest a bit more."
"Rest, Ricardo?" she smiled slyly.
"Yes. A little nap," he said. She laughed.
"Ricardo. Do you think I don't know what it is you are wanting?" He laughed in response. She stood and reached out her hand. "Come my little boy. I will give you what you need."
CHAPTER TWO
THE WAY STONES FEEL
Violet crossed her legs and leaned back, watching the men on the boat moving about and eying her. She sipped her drink, pretending not to notice their constant glances. At her legs. At her breasts. Her hair, a shaggy sun-bleached unbrushed mop. Her skin the color of wet sand. Her lips, a parched and cracked reddish brown. She was skinny almost to an anorexic fault. She gazed out at the sea in a dreamy way, but all the while knowing they all wanted to fuck her. She was in the company of dangerous men. But she had a good grip on it. Men and their dicks are no match for her.
In her hand bag were the essentials. Lipstick, a couple of condoms, a passport, a chrome-plated revolver, and an envelope full of money. She was ready to pull any of these from her purse, whatever the situation required. Balthazaar had thought of everything. Still her pulse was rapid. The adrenaline of knowing this is the real deal.
He sat down next to her.
"A sweet air mixed with salt, eh?" he said, inhaling the sea air. Violet turned to look at his pretentious face.
"Do you have something for me, or not?" she said, in a seductive voice. He placed a hand lightly on her knee and began to slide it up under her dress. She brushed it aside. "I am talking about business here, not pleasure."
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss....?"
"Miss Nobody to you." she said boldly, her hand already dipping into her purse for better or worse.
"Yes, of course, I am a man of my word." he said, fumbling in his pocket. Violet's fingers curled around the gun in her purse as she watched him. He produced a small cloth bag and emptied it into his palm. "Is this what you are looking for, perhaps?" The snarl on his lips as he said it, made her want to kill him on the spot. Instead, she just nodded. She let go of the gun and fumbled for the envelope of cash He poured the stones into her slender hand. She closed her fingers around them. She handed him the envelope. Now, it was just a matter of getting home alive.
WHAT WENT DOWN IN TAMPICO? (to be continued...)
Monday, January 30, 2012
"Evidence of Violet" continues...
(The following episodes follow the one in the post below it where the story first began)
Chapter One continues....
JOSEPHINA
They embraced in the doorway. She was in a long and well-wrinkled white cotton nightgown and she smelled like a woman just waking up. Any smell of Josephina never failed to arouse him. But even as his hands slid down her back and fanned out over her hips she was onto him.
"What is it now?" she asked, nuzzling her sleepy-eyed face beneath his chin. He lost himself in her thick dark hair wishing things could just be simple for awhile. And in his long sigh, he whispered out these words.
"Balthazaar is alive. And maybe Violet too." He tightened his grip around her, expecting her to faint. She didn't. Just some several abrupt sobs making her face wet against his neck and her fingernails digging into his shoulders. And then she pulled away.
The wooden tabletop was embellished with colorful burnt out hardened wax puddles of by-gone candles. They seemed a subtle history of evenings he had spent there with her, drinking wine and whispering. He sat and looked at her. She had her back to him, cracking eggs into a bowl. Whipping them. Pouring them into a black iron skillet. He slid her gown off her ample body, in his mind. Funny how such thoughts can erupt like that.
"How can you say such a thing?" she said, turning to look at him. He pulled the papers from his pocket.
"I got a letter. It is from Balthazaar." And this is where she fainted. By the stove.
She was only out a few seconds. By the time he jumped to grab her there on the floor, she was coming around. He helped her up and to a chair.
"Its true Josephina," he said, kneeling in front of her and trying to heal her pain -filled face somehow with his hands.
"Don't leave me now." she said.
"Read the letter, Josephina. Pack your bags. I will finish the souffle. "
THE DEPARTURE
They were on the road by noon. They would make it up the mountains if they drove through the night. They would spend some time there and rest. Get some food. Fuck. Sleep. Get up in the morning and mark our course out on the map. Move efficiently south through each little town and harbor. It is an art to pull into a town and gather information without arousing suspicion. One cannot go about holding up photos. Have you seen this man? This woman? You are seen as a hunter of people. And there are many in the south who are in hiding. The news of your inquiries will precede you into the next town and the next. You will get nowhere. He and Josephina would travel as tourists. Lovers on a holiday who have stolen away from some impossible reality back north. In essence, just two more people on the lam and hiding. Seen as such, they could perhaps find people here and there who would take them into their confidence. Over tequila perhaps a story slips out. Josephina is adept at this. Loosening the tongues of men so as to find out what she wants to know without asking the question.
THE WAY THINGS WENT DOWN
It was unusual. The way Josephina and Ricardo had hooked up back some time ago. He and Balthazaar had been like brothers since childhood. They were born on the same day of the month of the same year. But Riccardo was seven years was 7 years his elder. And now here they were. Riccardo, with a woman some 10 years older than he, and Balthazaar with her daughter. Or at least he was, until something went wrong and they are lost now from one another.
It was to have been a simple deal. Riccardo had made the arrangements. Balthazaar and Violet would make the exchange. A few precious stones he was middling up out of Africa to a collector whose name Riccardo dare not say aloud. Enough American dollars for all of them to live quite easily for some time. The deal was to go down on a charter boat amidst partying and pleasure fishing. Violet, while young, was as alluring as her mother. And she is a seamstress, as well. It would be relatively easy for her to conceal the stones in the hems of her clothing. And Balthazaar was renowned for his calm collected demeanor. He was at his best when backed against the wall.
So what went wrong? It's all Riccardo thought about as they drove southeast and into the night. Josephina curled up on the back seat and fell asleep. He headed the car up into the mountains. They should at least make La Coma by dawn, if the roads were not too rough. They might spend a day or two there poking around.
Chapter One continues....
JOSEPHINA
They embraced in the doorway. She was in a long and well-wrinkled white cotton nightgown and she smelled like a woman just waking up. Any smell of Josephina never failed to arouse him. But even as his hands slid down her back and fanned out over her hips she was onto him.
"What is it now?" she asked, nuzzling her sleepy-eyed face beneath his chin. He lost himself in her thick dark hair wishing things could just be simple for awhile. And in his long sigh, he whispered out these words.
"Balthazaar is alive. And maybe Violet too." He tightened his grip around her, expecting her to faint. She didn't. Just some several abrupt sobs making her face wet against his neck and her fingernails digging into his shoulders. And then she pulled away.
The wooden tabletop was embellished with colorful burnt out hardened wax puddles of by-gone candles. They seemed a subtle history of evenings he had spent there with her, drinking wine and whispering. He sat and looked at her. She had her back to him, cracking eggs into a bowl. Whipping them. Pouring them into a black iron skillet. He slid her gown off her ample body, in his mind. Funny how such thoughts can erupt like that.
"How can you say such a thing?" she said, turning to look at him. He pulled the papers from his pocket.
"I got a letter. It is from Balthazaar." And this is where she fainted. By the stove.
She was only out a few seconds. By the time he jumped to grab her there on the floor, she was coming around. He helped her up and to a chair.
"Its true Josephina," he said, kneeling in front of her and trying to heal her pain -filled face somehow with his hands.
"Don't leave me now." she said.
"Read the letter, Josephina. Pack your bags. I will finish the souffle. "
THE DEPARTURE
They were on the road by noon. They would make it up the mountains if they drove through the night. They would spend some time there and rest. Get some food. Fuck. Sleep. Get up in the morning and mark our course out on the map. Move efficiently south through each little town and harbor. It is an art to pull into a town and gather information without arousing suspicion. One cannot go about holding up photos. Have you seen this man? This woman? You are seen as a hunter of people. And there are many in the south who are in hiding. The news of your inquiries will precede you into the next town and the next. You will get nowhere. He and Josephina would travel as tourists. Lovers on a holiday who have stolen away from some impossible reality back north. In essence, just two more people on the lam and hiding. Seen as such, they could perhaps find people here and there who would take them into their confidence. Over tequila perhaps a story slips out. Josephina is adept at this. Loosening the tongues of men so as to find out what she wants to know without asking the question.
THE WAY THINGS WENT DOWN
It was unusual. The way Josephina and Ricardo had hooked up back some time ago. He and Balthazaar had been like brothers since childhood. They were born on the same day of the month of the same year. But Riccardo was seven years was 7 years his elder. And now here they were. Riccardo, with a woman some 10 years older than he, and Balthazaar with her daughter. Or at least he was, until something went wrong and they are lost now from one another.
It was to have been a simple deal. Riccardo had made the arrangements. Balthazaar and Violet would make the exchange. A few precious stones he was middling up out of Africa to a collector whose name Riccardo dare not say aloud. Enough American dollars for all of them to live quite easily for some time. The deal was to go down on a charter boat amidst partying and pleasure fishing. Violet, while young, was as alluring as her mother. And she is a seamstress, as well. It would be relatively easy for her to conceal the stones in the hems of her clothing. And Balthazaar was renowned for his calm collected demeanor. He was at his best when backed against the wall.
So what went wrong? It's all Riccardo thought about as they drove southeast and into the night. Josephina curled up on the back seat and fell asleep. He headed the car up into the mountains. They should at least make La Coma by dawn, if the roads were not too rough. They might spend a day or two there poking around.
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