Corbett
T he woman, on her knees, pressed her lips against the man’s rough palm. “I swear, all I’ve told you, every word—”
“Run through it again.” He took back his hand. “All of it.”
She didn’t dare look at his face. “I haven’t lied.”
“A thief too proud to lie.”
“I didn’t steal—”
He got up, kicked his chair backward. It clattered across the bare floor. “I said tell me what happened. Again.”
She clenched her hands beneath her chin, steadying them. “My cousin, Marisa—we live in Boca del Monte—she told me all I had to do was carry a suitcase to Panama. I lost my job at the hotel. My daughter, Rosela, she cries herself to sleep—”
“Leave your daughter out of it.”
“‘People do it every day,’ Marisa said. Yes, some get stopped at the airport, the suitcases ripped apart, the money found stitched up inside. But the amounts are legal, just under 78,000 quetzales. No one gets arrested. ‘That’s why they call us ants, because the amounts are small.’”
“Small to who?”
“Please, I know I made a mistake—”
“A
mistake
?” He snagged the chair, slammed it against the floor. “Talk!”
“Marisa and I delivered our suitcases to a house in Zona 18. They said come back the next day. We did, with maybe twenty others, sitting on the floor in an empty room like this but bigger. Eventually they came and gave us back our suitcases, drove us to the airport. A man named Lorenzo met us there.”
“Count yourself lucky you’re not him right now.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“You’re protecting him?”
“No. I—”
“No means yes. He was in on it.”
“There was nothing to be in on, I just…” Her voice trailed off.
“Come on.” He snapped his fingers.
“We boarded our plane. Despite what Marisa said, despite the amounts, I was terrified. The police are so corrupt, there’s no telling—”
“Getting ahead of yourself, no?”
“Once the plane took off, the others relaxed. I couldn’t. Marisa tried to calm me, holding my hand, praying with me—”
“You talked about how you’d get away with it.”
“No! Listen to me, she had nothing…It was my stupidity. Mine alone.”
She glanced toward the window. Sunlight flared through slatted blinds.
“You landed at La Aurora.”
“Lorenzo told us, stay together. But the terminal’s so crowded, like fighting a river swollen from rain.”
“Screw the crowd. You snuck off.”
“I saw a counter, selling blouses. The embroidery, so beautiful. I thought: Rosela would love something like this. My beautiful girl, she’s so brave, I’ve given her so little—”
“I said leave her out of it.”
“I didn’t even realize I’d stopped walking.”
“You thought, Oh, look what I could buy with all this money.”
“No. It was a blouse, a simple blouse!”
She put her hand to her face and quietly wept. He let her go for a moment, then another fingersnap.
“The others—they were where?”
“I looked, but there was just this sea of people.” She wiped her face. “Suddenly, these policemen appeared.”
“Yes, your corrupt police.”
“They said they were with the Policia Nacional and ordered me to give them the suitcase.”
“Naturally, you obeyed.”
“I told you. I fought. They tried to grab it from me. I held on with both hands. I was afraid to call out. What if I just got the others in trouble as well? Try to imagine what I felt. I’ve never done this, never done anything like it. I’m a simple, silly woman from a poor town. I’ve never even been in an airport—”
“Yes, yes. These corrupt cops, phony police, whatever, they went for the suitcase.”
“One of them slapped me across the face.”
He chuckled. “Surely you’ve been struck before.”
She flushed from shame. “I was stunned. I didn’t—”
“And they snatched the money.”
“They vanished into the crowd. I tried to get my bearings, running one direction, then back, looking for Lorenzo,
T he woman, on her knees, pressed her lips against the man’s rough palm. “I swear, all I’ve told you, every word—”
“Run through it again.” He took back his hand. “All of it.”
She didn’t dare look at his face. “I haven’t lied.”
“A thief too proud to lie.”
“I didn’t steal—”
He got up, kicked his chair backward. It clattered across the bare floor. “I said tell me what happened. Again.”
She clenched her hands beneath her chin, steadying them. “My cousin, Marisa—we live in Boca del Monte—she told me all I had to do was carry a suitcase to Panama. I lost my job at the hotel. My daughter, Rosela, she cries herself to sleep—”
“Leave your daughter out of it.”
“‘People do it every day,’ Marisa said. Yes, some get stopped at the airport, the suitcases ripped apart, the money found stitched up inside. But the amounts are legal, just under 78,000 quetzales. No one gets arrested. ‘That’s why they call us ants, because the amounts are small.’”
“Small to who?”
“Please, I know I made a mistake—”
“A
mistake
?” He snagged the chair, slammed it against the floor. “Talk!”
“Marisa and I delivered our suitcases to a house in Zona 18. They said come back the next day. We did, with maybe twenty others, sitting on the floor in an empty room like this but bigger. Eventually they came and gave us back our suitcases, drove us to the airport. A man named Lorenzo met us there.”
“Count yourself lucky you’re not him right now.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“You’re protecting him?”
“No. I—”
“No means yes. He was in on it.”
“There was nothing to be in on, I just…” Her voice trailed off.
“Come on.” He snapped his fingers.
“We boarded our plane. Despite what Marisa said, despite the amounts, I was terrified. The police are so corrupt, there’s no telling—”
“Getting ahead of yourself, no?”
“Once the plane took off, the others relaxed. I couldn’t. Marisa tried to calm me, holding my hand, praying with me—”
“You talked about how you’d get away with it.”
“No! Listen to me, she had nothing…It was my stupidity. Mine alone.”
She glanced toward the window. Sunlight flared through slatted blinds.
“You landed at La Aurora.”
“Lorenzo told us, stay together. But the terminal’s so crowded, like fighting a river swollen from rain.”
“Screw the crowd. You snuck off.”
“I saw a counter, selling blouses. The embroidery, so beautiful. I thought: Rosela would love something like this. My beautiful girl, she’s so brave, I’ve given her so little—”
“I said leave her out of it.”
“I didn’t even realize I’d stopped walking.”
“You thought, Oh, look what I could buy with all this money.”
“No. It was a blouse, a simple blouse!”
She put her hand to her face and quietly wept. He let her go for a moment, then another fingersnap.
“The others—they were where?”
“I looked, but there was just this sea of people.” She wiped her face. “Suddenly, these policemen appeared.”
“Yes, your corrupt police.”
“They said they were with the Policia Nacional and ordered me to give them the suitcase.”
“Naturally, you obeyed.”
“I told you. I fought. They tried to grab it from me. I held on with both hands. I was afraid to call out. What if I just got the others in trouble as well? Try to imagine what I felt. I’ve never done this, never done anything like it. I’m a simple, silly woman from a poor town. I’ve never even been in an airport—”
“Yes, yes. These corrupt cops, phony police, whatever, they went for the suitcase.”
“One of them slapped me across the face.”
He chuckled. “Surely you’ve been struck before.”
She flushed from shame. “I was stunned. I didn’t—”
“And they snatched the money.”
“They vanished into the crowd. I tried to get my bearings, running one direction, then back, looking for Lorenzo,
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