Chapter Thirteen
El piso de Hans y Juliana
C/Aben Al Abar
Valencia
14 marzo
2200 horas"You guys have really gotten yourselves into something this time," Hans observed as he shifted Betje from his right arm to his left. "You’ve been in this country barely thirty-six hours and already you have been attacked, threatened, robbed, and Trixie and Di have almost been killed. This must be some kind of a record."
"I don’t think it’s a record, Hans, but pretty close." Jim looked at his cousin’s husband and saw a hint of worry lingering in his eyes after listening to the description of the Bob-Whites’ first day in Spain. "We really have no idea who any of these people have been nor why they are so interested in my backpack. But now that they have it maybe we won’t hear anything more from them."
"Jim, didn’t you lose your passport and identification among other things in your backpack? If you don’t have your passport they won’t let you leave the country," Juliana said.
Jim grinned broadly, "Well, Juliana, for once I was one step ahead of our nemesis. After the events at the Sagrada Familia this morning when that guy tried to get my backpack from Trixie, I decided to take the important stuff out of it. My planner with my passport, I.D. and money were all kept safely in Dan’s backpack. What our friend got was some miscellaneous school supplies, some CDs, American candy and my University of Utah sweatshirt. Oh, yeah, and Honey’s Grisham novel."
"That was smart. And you really have no idea as to why these men seem to be chasing you?" Juliana’s blue eyes lit up excitedly as she leaned forward to look at Jim and Trixie.
"Actually Juliana, we don’t have any clue to why they are after us." Trixie spoke softly from her seat on the floor. The piso , as apartments were called in Spain, wasn’t very large and there weren’t quite enough chairs for the nine people that were in the room. After helping Honey and Juliana clean up after dinner, she had sat down on the floor, declining Jim’s offer of his spot on the couch. Now she leaned her head back to rest lightly on his knees and continued.
"I saw the man that we saw on the train today at the airport yesterday as we were in the line where they checked our passports. A short time later he knocked Dan flying and jumped Jim as we were getting our bags. Mart chased him and had a brief encounter in the restroom. We didn’t see him again until the train today."
"And do you think he is connected with the man that tried to kill you at the Sagrada Familia this morning?" Hans asked.
"He could be. They were both interested in my backpack," Jim answered. "I don’t know what they think could be in the backpack. They both keep asking about a disk, but there are no disks in there. I didn’t bring my laptop so I wouldn’t have a need for any."
"This man, you said he called himself Sergio, could be mixed up with ETA." Hans handed the sleeping child to Juliana and continued, "Tomorrow I can pull up a list of wanted terrorists and you can see if any pictures match. But right now, I think we should get to bed. Di looks like she is already asleep."
Opening her eyes, Di smiled at Hans, "Well, not quite, but give me a few more minutes and you wouldn’t be too far off."
"I’m going to put Bet down. I’m sorry we are so cramped here." Juliana stood up with Betje. "The Mambos offered to let some of you stay in their home since most of their kids are away this week, but that is across town and they speak very little English. So instead, they let us borrow a few cots. The girls are in the nursery. The apartment has built in bunk beds, which is handy. I put a cot in there for the third person."
"You told the guys how they are to be arranged?" Hans asked his wife.
"Yes. They played rock-paper-scissors to see who got which bed. Mart has the futon in your office, Dan has the couches and Brian the cot here in the living room. Jim has the cot on the balcony." Turning to her cousin she added, "Lucky for you it is warm now…a few weeks ago you would have had to sleep on the table in here or something." Everyone chuckled at that and headed to their respective sleeping areas.
Trixie lay on the top bunk long after the piso had grown quiet. It looked as if they were involved in another mystery and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Try as she might she couldn’t help but feel excited. There was such a rush related to solving a mystery and putting all the pieces together. Within her excitement was struggling with the guilt she felt at breaking her vow of no more mysteries. But she hadn’t searched one out…it had searched her out. That must mean it was okay.
‘Quit thinking about all this Belden, you need to sleep. You’ve had a long stressful day and you have to get up early tomorrow for whatever is on the agenda. Go to sleep!’
As she drifted off, Trixie’s mind tried to grasp at something. She knew that there was something obvious that they weren’t getting out of all of the things that had happened to them since their arrival in Spain. Just as she started to catch the fleeting thought, she fell asleep.
* * *
Ruinas del castillo
Sagunto
15 marzo
1’00 horas"Sergio? Sergio, where are you?" Arabe’s soft voice carried through the shadows among the castle walls.
"Here, keep your voice down!"
Arabe followed the growl of Sergio’s voice around the corner. It was pitch black and he didn’t dare use his flashlight. Cupping his hand around his cigarette lighter, he flicked it on. Just enough lighted emitted to show him the path. Quickly extinguishing the flame, Arabe covered the last several yards to where Sergio was crouched down behind a pile of rubble.
"No light! What are you thinking?" Sergio voice registered his shock over Arabe’s actions.
"Relax…it’s not like anyone is going to notice a small speck of light. You can’t see back here from the pueblo." Arabe lowered himself to a squatting position near Sergio and continued. "Now, what in the world do you mean by saying that the mission is not complete. I was on my way here to celebrate and finish this thing so I could return to my country. Then I get a call saying that things were not yet completed. An explanation, please."
Wordlessly Sergio passed a hard square-shaped object to Arabe.
"And this is…" Arabe was growing impatient with Sergio and his "special way" of doing things. If he had been in charge of this assignment…things would have been different.
"That is the U2 case."
"You say case…are you trying to tell me that the disc is not inside?" Arabe couldn’t believe it.
"Yes, the case only. The disc, she is not there." Sergio hated to confess this to Arabe, but he had to tell him.
Forgetting to keep his voice down, Arabe roared, "Where is the disc, idiot! We are all dead without that disc!" Arabe hadn’t been this angry in a long time. His hands were starting to shake and there was a buzzing sound in his ears. He was about to snap.
"Don’t you think I know that already!" His temper rising to match that of the Arab’s, Sergio too forgot to keep his voice lowered.
Sneering, Arabe threatened, "Well, jefe, if someone must die for this, it will not be me." He reached into the darkness and wrapped his hands around Sergio’s throat.
The pounding of his heart was so loud that he heard neither the gasps of breath from Sergio, nor the approaching footsteps in the loose gravel and dirt.
A bright light was suddenly bathing him and Sergio. Arabe squinted, trying to see who was behind the light. In his surprise he had loosened his hold on Sergio’s neck. Sergio took advantage of the moment and twisted out of his grasp. Both men stared at the shadowy shape holding the lantern.
A familiar voice, tinged with a new passion sounded in the darkness. "Someone has already died for this mission, Arabe, and his death must not go without compensation. Pablo will not have died in vain."
Pedro lowered the lantern so that the two men on the ground could see his face. There was a hardness that had not been there the night before. The death of his brother had changed him. "You did not meet with success, I see."
"No, they still have it." Sergio muttered.
"So, what is our next move? You are in charge, no? You must have a plan." Pedro stared at him until Sergio’s eyes broke away. He fastened his gaze on the pile of bricks and dirt at his side. In all truthfulness he did not have a plan. His plan had ended with the train fiasco. Now he had to come up with something else…and time was running out.
Chapter Fourteen
15 MARZO
VALENCIA
0930 HORASBleary-eyed, Honey stumbled out into the kitchen, half-heartedly trying to smooth down her hair.
Looking up from the dishes he was washing, Brian grinned at the sight of Honey so opposite from her usual put together appearance.
"Sleeping Beauty, why art thou rising so late and in such a state of disarray?"
Glaring at him Honey retorted, "How can you be so chipper, Prince Almost-Charming? You can't tell me that you actually slept last night!"
"Of course I did, that's usually what I do at night."
"Barrel of laughs this morning, aren't you, Mr. Belden." Resting her head on folded arms on the table Honey continued, "You're telling me that all of those explosions and stuff didn't keep you awake?"
A muffled reply came from the vicinity of the refrigerator, followed by the clinking of glasses on the table.
"What?" she asked without raising her head.
"I said that I woke up once, but I was so tired after the last couple of days that nothing short of an earthquake centered in this apartment would have kept me up."
"Not me. Every time I would think I could finally sleep, another blast would jolt me awake. It's a good thing Trixie was on the top bunk. I would've landed on the floor." Honey raised her head enough to rest her chin on her arms and watch Brian's actions.
He slid a glass across the table to her and then began to open a box that he had set on the table. Honey wasn't sure what was in the box, but Brian wasn't doing anything she had expected him to do with it.
First, he shook it. Then he flipped up a corner. He then proceeded to fold the corner back and forth and then ripped it off.
Reaching across the table, he poured a thick orange-colored liquid into Honey's glass, then into his own.
Honey eyed the strange substance warily. Cautiously she sniffed it. Realizing that Brian was watching her with amusement she blushed. "What is it Brian?"
"Don't worry - I'm not trying to poison you. It's just juice. Melocotón y uva...which if the pictures are correct on the box means peach and grape. It's pretty good."
Honey took a swallow and found that Brian was right, the juice was good. "Juice in a box? No cans? No frozen concentrate?"
"Nope. Just boxes. Same for the milk."
Honey almost dropped her glass. "Milk? In a box?"
"Yeah. You keep it on the shelf until you want it cold and then you stick it in the ‘fridge." Brian went over the cupboard and pulled out a couple of pink boxes with a cow on them. 'LECHE DESNATADA' was printed on each of them. Anticipating Honey's question he explained, "Leche desnatada means skim milk. Juliana explained it to us as we ate breakfast. Mart has decided to become a dairy farmer and move to Spain. You don't want to drink this stuff plain, but it's okay on cereal." Once again he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box of Kellogg's Corn Flakes.
"Kellogg's?" Finally, something familiar.
"Yeah, Juliana says that there are a couple of stores where you can find American food, but it's usually pretty pricey. I'll get you the cold milk."
While Brian was getting her a bowl and milk, Honey asked, "So, where are the rest of the gang? Is anyone else here?" She hadn't been alone with Brian in ages and wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
"To answer your real question, Yes we are the only ones here." With a slightly wicked grin Brian continued, "But I promise to be nice. To answer the other question...Hans couldn't get online from his computer here, so he went over to the embassy to download the ETA wanted pictures. Di went with him to identify our friend. Mart went because Di was going and Dan went because he wants to check out the set up there. Trixie was torn between going with Jim and Juliana or waiting for you to get up. They convinced her to go and I volunteered to Honey-sit."
As she poured the cereal into the bowl, she scrunched up her face at his last comment. "Well, thank you for that, I think. What are they doing?"
"Actually they are taking a walk over to some park in the river bed. I said that we’d go meet them if you ever got up."
Restraining the impulse to make a sarcastic retort, Honey concentrated on pouring the milk on to her cereal. To her amusement, there were picture directions on the side of the Kellogg’s box showing how to fix a bowl of cereal.
Brian leaned against the sink, studying Honey. They had broken up before he had left for college in Utah. They both had known that it was the right thing to do. Neither of them had been ready for a serious commitment and there was just no spark…just mutual admiration. They had remained friends, and that had helped him get through some of the hard times. Honey had never judged him for what he had done; she just continued being his friend and wrote him often while he had been in rehab. He often told Honey that if the detective agency plans ever fell through, she would be a perfect counselor.
"Okay. I feel a little more human now with some food in me." Honey looked up at Brian and smiled. "Do we have to leave right now to go meet the others, or do I have time for a shower?"
"Well, I suppose that we have time for a shower."
Honey’s eyebrows raised in surprise at Brian’s answer to her question. "Uh, sorry, I like to shower alone."
Coloring slightly, Brian tried to regain his cool composure. "Of course, that’s what I meant for us…I mean you to shower while we…you…I… get ready…Honey, you know darn well what I mean!"
"Yeah, I thought I did until you threw that at me," she was enjoying watching Brian in an uncomfortable position like this. "So, do I have time to take a shower?"
"Yes, you do. Do you know how to work the hot water?"
"You turn the knob. Brian Belden! I may be a rich girl who has had servants waiting on her since birth, but I have always turned on my own shower since I was old enough to have it figured out." What kind of a question was that?
"No, I mean, did anyone show you how to turn the hot water heater on so that the water will heat? You have to light the pilot light on the back balcony before you can get hot water."
Subdued, Honey followed Brian out to the small balcony on the inner part of the building and watched as he showed her how to push in and twist the knob that released the gas and then light the pilot with a lighter. "You have to hold the knob in for a few minutes to make sure that it catches and it just isn’t the fumes that are burning…Juliana said that if you count to thirty slowly that should be long enough." He released the knob and the bluish flame kept burning. "Before we leave we have to make sure that it is off. It’s not so much a fire hazard, it just conserves the butano so that Hans and Juliana don’t have to get a refill before their normal time."
"I thought Spain was part of the civilized world. Gas water heaters that you have to light every time you want hot water, milk preserved in boxes with a shelf life of months, directions on how to fix a bowl of cereal…" Honey’s voice trailed off in a mixture of amusement and disdain.
"Yeah, well you can take up your complaints and concerns with Juliana later. But if you want to shower before we head out for the morning, you’d better get a move on it Miss Wheeler…or I may have to help you after all."
"Thanks but no thanks. You can wash my bowl for me, but I’ll take care of my own self."
AVENIDA CARDENAL BENLLOCH
"There doesn’t seem to be a lot of people up and around for a Sunday morning," Jim observed as he walked along the street with his cousin and his friend.
"For a country steeped in religion, there really aren’t a lot of people that get up early on Sunday morning and go to Mass. They usually go in the afternoon and sleep in the morning." Juliana stopped and bent over the stroller she was pushing to adjust the sweater her daughter was wearing. "If we weren’t going to be meeting everyone else at Gulliver, I’d take you to the center of the city…it is dead there in the mornings. Very few shops are open on Sundays so you don’t have to worry about crowds."
"Juliana, what exactly is this Gulliver thing that we’re going to?" Trixie’s curiosity, as usual, was getting the best of her.
"You know the story of Gulliver’s Travels, right?" When the two Americans nodded, Juliana continued. "Well about forty years ago the course of the River Turia was changed. In the dry riverbed, the valencianos laid out many gardens and parks. They created this huge statue of Gulliver…how he appeared to the Lilliputians. It is a children’s park, but also fun for adults."
"So it’s just a statue of Gulliver?" Jim asked.
"It’s more than a statue, Jim. You’ll just have to wait and see it. They say it’s the biggest figure of Gulliver in the world."
As Jim was about to ask another question, he realized that Trixie was no longer by his side. He turned around quickly and saw that she was knelt down tying her shoe several buildings back. After telling Juliana that they would catch up at the corner, he hurried back to her.
"Trix! What are you doing? After all that has happened in the past two days we have to stick together!"
Trixie looked up when Jim had finished and answered in a soft voice that contradicted the anger in her eyes, "I was just tying my shoe. Relax, already. I’ve already told you that I’m not looking for a mystery to solve. We’re on vacation." She quickly stood up and brushed past him to catch up with Juliana and Betje.
Jim watched her go. He had jumped all over her again and now she was mad. He couldn’t blame her. He needed to work on controlling his temper, especially where Trixie was concerned. There was something bothering her though. It wasn’t just everything with Brian. After their talk on the train the afternoon before, they seemed to be almost back to their old relationship. It wasn’t just the strange attacks on them. And it wasn’t just her talk with the American woman in the airport that had made her seem somehow different. There was some inner struggle that Trixie was going through and he wanted to help. If she would just let him…if he would just "relax" as she said, long enough for her to tell him.
By the time he had caught up with the two young women, Trixie was smiling and talking to Juliana. Juliana was explaining, "This is Avenida del Puerto…it leads down to the port. Ships from all over dock there…the most popular are the American ships. The Americans give tours and even provide pictures and hats for people to purchase. As we cross the bridge, look over the left side and you’ll see Gulliver."
Just then the light changed and the group began to cross the street with a few other pedestrians. Jim tried to get by Trixie and apologize, but she moved to the other side of Juliana. She asked Juliana a question, but Jim couldn’t hear it. As they reached the other side of the street, Trixie took the stroller from Juliana and started across the bridge. The sidewalk wasn’t wide enough for two people and a stroller to go side-by-side so Jim stayed behind with Juliana.
"Give her some space. She’s mulling something over in her mind. When she’s ready, she’ll tell you. Just give her space."
Surprised, Jim looked down at his cousin. How did she know what he was thinking?
"How do I know what you’re thinking? I know Trixie, I know you…I know how relationships work. Also, Trixie said a little to me while we were waiting for you at the corner. Just be patient Jim." Juliana reached over a squeezed her cousin’s hand. She knew somewhat of the depths of his feelings for the petite blond in front of them. She also knew that those feelings were mutual. But both had a lot of growing up still to do.
Dutch Embassy
Valencia"Even on Sundays there are people working here." Hans told the three Americans as he unlocked his office door. "Mostly it is just custodians and security people, but sometimes employees come in to catch up. Next weekend there will be lots of people in here catching up on what all they slacked off on during fallas."
"Do you spend a lot of weekends here, Hans?" Di asked, wanting to think of anything but having to try and dwell on her experience in the train yesterday.
"Not usually. I’d much rather spend the time with my family. We usually take Betje on a picnic or something." He switched on his computer and monitor and as they waited for everything to start running, he opened up a small refrigerator and pulled out four cans of Coca-Cola. "This is one of the American drinks that are popular over here. But don’t go looking for that root beer stuff that you guys seem to like so much, I don’t think that it would sell over here."
When the computer had finished loading all of its programs, Hans quickly connected to the Internet. Within minutes, he had accessed the government files on ETA. "Shall we look under those that are wanted for major crimes, those that are known associates of ETA, or those that are suspected to be affiliated with ETA?"
The Bob-Whites looked at each other for an answer. Finally Dan took charge and said, "Well, they don’t seem to be that um, that, polished…so maybe we should start with known associates of ETA." Di and Mart nodded in agreement and Hans clicked on the file.
Soon all four were surrounding the computer, concentrating on face after face that flashed on the screen.
1030 horas
Hans & Juliana’s apartment"I think I’m ready Brian, how about you?" Honey emerged from her room feeling one hundred percent better than she had an hour before.
"Just a second," came Brian’s voice from the bathroom.
‘Figures,’ she thought, smiling to herself, ‘Guys always say that girls take too long getting ready, but in the end, we’re always waiting for them.’
As she waited, Honey picked up the newspaper sitting on the couch. Idly she glanced over the front page, but nothing made much sense. Here and there, she understood a word, but not enough to make sense of an article. A picture on the inside of the front page caught her attention. It was a picture of the Sagrada Familia. She shuddered as she thought of their experience there the day before. Reading the caption below the picture, she caught the word ‘muerto’. That meant death. Was this about the man that had tried to kill Trixie and then leapt to his death? ‘Maybe this will answer some questions. I’ll take it with us and maybe Juliana can translate it for us.’
"Okay, I’m ready. Sorry it took so long. The bathroom confuses me sometimes," Brian muttered as he entered the living room.
"It confuses you?" Honey wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear Brian’s explanation on that.
"Yeah, with the bidé. You have to admit that it is kind of odd to have two toilets in there." Brian started to turn red as he tried to explain to Honey what he meant.
"Well, the one definitely isn’t a toilet, but I can see where it would be a little strange." ‘Man, the conversations I’m having with Brian today! Toilets and showering! Maybe we do still need a chaperone on our trips.’ To change the subject, Honey held up the newspaper to Brian and pointed to the picture. "Do you think that this could have anything to do with that psycho yesterday?"
Brian looked at the picture and the caption, "It could, but I’m not sure. Bring it along to show the others. Maybe Juliana can translate it for us."
"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, how do we get to this park place?" Honey folded up the paper and stuck it in Brian’s backpack.
"Juliana said that we needed to walk to Avenida Cardenal Benlloch…that’s a street…and then catch bus 8. She gave me this bus pass to use. It isn’t too far, but she said the bus would be better for us to use so that we don’t get lost."
Honey looked at the small piece of cardboard that Brian held, "Bono Bus…hmm, so they just punch this with the date. I guess we should get some of these for the coming week."
"Juliana is going to take us to get them tomorrow. She said that you buy them at a tobacco store or a bookstore. Anyway, Cardenal Benlloch is just a couple of blocks away, so let’s get going as soon as I turn off the butano."
While Brian turned off the gas, Honey grabbed their jackets, Brian’s backpack and her camera. After locking the door, they hurried down the stairs and out the main door of the building. As they left, they didn’t notice the man that was watching them from the bench at the small plaza across the street. Nor did the see him stand up and begin to follow them down the street.
Embassy
"No luck with this file, Hans. Can we check the other ones?" Mart stood up and stretched. He had been bending over the computer for too long.
"We can check them just like we did this one, but it will take just as long. You don’t have any names on them or anything? That would narrow down the search."
"Sergio," whispered Di.
"What?" The three men turned to her.
"Sergio. That is what he said his name was right before he opened the door of the train."
"You’re right. I didn’t register it as a name, just thought he was mumbling in Spanish." Mart sighed with relief; maybe now they would have some luck.
"Yeah, and the guy that jumped said the name Sergio. He also said another name…Pablo something." Dan couldn’t believe that he hadn’t remembered that earlier.
Quickly they began a new search as Hans answered his phone.
By the time Hans had finished with his phone call, Dan had ID’d the guy from the Sagrada Familia and Mart and Di had found Sergio. They had also happened across a man that looked vaguely familiar to Mart. He thought it might be the man Honey thought had been watching them in the train station.
"That was Juliana, she wants us to pick up some food and meet them all at Gulliver. Have you had any luck?" Hans walked over to the computer. The smile on his face faded as he saw the expressions on the faces of the three Bob-Whites.
"Well Hans, I guess you could call it luck," Dan tried to smile at their friend. We have a positive ID on two of them and a possible on a third…none of them are very nice people…see for yourself."
Hans started to read the printouts that Mart handed him. He had barely skimmed over the first one when he said, "O.K. that’s enough for me. Let’s go meet the others. If these are the guys that you somehow got involved with, none of you are safe!"
Chapter Fifteen
15 MARZO
PARQUE GULLIVER
1130 HORAS"Hans and the rest of the gang should be here anytime with lunch," Jim said to Brian and Honey as they walked over to the bench Jim was sitting on.
"Do you know if they had any luck with the files?" Brian asked as he sat down next to Jim.
"When Juliana called them about forty-five minutes ago they hadn’t found anything." Jim fell silent as he watched Honey go over to where Trixie and Juliana were pushing little Betje on a swing.
"This is a pretty cool place," Brian remarked, looking not only at the huge form of Gulliver laid out before him, but also at the children’s playground, the swings and the inline skating area.
"Yeah. There’s also a miniature golf course and some giant chess boards further down."
"Jim, something bothering you?" Brian was puzzled by the monotone of Jim’s voice.
"No, well, yes…it’s this whole mystery thing and Trixie…" Jim’s voice trailed off to a whisper.
Brian reached up and tightened the rubber band he had used that morning to pull part of his hair back into a ponytail. He didn’t have much to say on the mystery that they were finding themselves involved in and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into a discussion about his only sister with his best friend.
"Yeah, well, this mystery is a bit odd. For once, we have absolutely no idea what these guys might have wanted. Though since they got your backpack, I hope that we’re through with them." Brian glanced at Jim out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was staring at Trixie pushing Betje on the swing as Juliana and Honey talked.
"As for Trixie…what’s up?" Jim was too good of a friend for Brian to just blow off his problem…even if it concerned his sister.
Jim shifted his gaze from the girls to the ground in front of him. How could he explain this to Brian? This wasn’t just the usual girl-guy stuff…this was Brian’s sister. Taking a breath, Jim began, "Something is bothering her Brian. I can’t figure out what it is."
Brian nodded, he had noticed that something seemed to be bothering his sister. "What do you think it could be, Jim? She talks to you more than she talks to me usually."
"I’m not sure. It looks like she is back on the way to real communication with you, finally. Anyway, it’s not that. She was kind of distracted after talking to that woman in the airport, but it didn’t seem to affect her in a bad way." Jim paused trying to put the words with his thoughts.
"I remember that. She did start to act a little strange yesterday afternoon. I put it down to her experience at the Sagrada Familia." Brian knew from his own experiences that those crazies get to you, even if you don’t think they do.
Pulling his Dodgers cap down to shade his eyes more, Jim continued, "Yeah, it started yesterday. She was really worked up about you and all that happened last year. She’s just now letting herself come to terms with it. What seems to be bothering her is the whole ‘we’re mixed up in another mystery’ aspect of our vacation. When we were joking about it on the plane and when that Spaniard caused the problems in the airport, she seemed like her old "Schoolgirl Shamus" self. But after everything that happened yesterday, she has seemed preoccupied by something. Do you realize that this is the first mystery she’s been involved in since Utah?"
Brian had been listening carefully to Jim’s thoughts. Suddenly he remembered something Honey had written him. In a letter, he had asked if the ‘Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency’ had solved any mysteries lately. Honey had answered back saying that she didn’t think there were going to be any more mysteries – at least not for Trixie. He had tried to get her to explain that statement, both in later letters and in conversations, but Honey had clamed up and changed the subject.
Before he could mention this to Jim, someone collapsed next to him on the bench. As soon as the newcomer spoke, Brian knew who it was.
"We rejoin you, not only bearing sustenance of unusual origins, but also with revelations on the persons who have been the genesis of our chaotic arrival to this land."
"Jeez Mart, have you been working on that sentence the whole morning?" Brian asked with a groan. Mart’s polysyllabic vocabulary grated on his nerves at times.
"What the fair-haired lad proclaims is valid," Dan replied with a smirk.
"What’s next? The sky falling?" Brian shook his head. "Now he’s infected you, Dan."
"In simple language, we brought interesting sandwiches for lunch and we have some info on the guys who have stirred up our vacation," Di translated with a small smile.
The four boys looked at her in astonishment. True, they had never thought Di was dumb, but…this was a surprise.
"Shock you all, didn’t I?" Di’s smile changed slightly. "Believe it or not, there are some big words in the art tomes that I read. I don’t just look at the pictures. Now, while you of the masculine persuasion contemplate the occurrence of my amazing display of linguistic knowledge, I will go converse with the females."
THAT should shock the heck out of them for once, Di thought as she went to tell Honey, Trixie and Juliana that they were back with lunch and info on the terrorists they had unwittingly become involved with.
"Sergio," Arabe was secure in his lookout on a bench across the playground from the Bob-Whites, "They are all here. Even the people they met up with at the train station."
"Bien, now, do you see any CDs with them?" Sergio knew that they had to get that disc and get it fast. The deadline was fast approaching.
"Like they would have it sitting on a bench next to them with a big sign that said, ‘ETA information, please take to the authorities.’" What was this man thinking? the Arab asked himself. Maybe Pedro should take over the planning after all.
"Arabe? This is Pedro. The fool, he doesn’t know what he is talking about anymore," the disgust in Pedro’s voice practically flew across the miles between Sagunto and Valencia. "What are they doing and where are you?"
"They are at the Parque Gulliver, in the river. The blond girl and redhead arrived over an hour ago with the woman that picked them up at the train station and a baby. The dark-haired man with a ponytail and a skinny girl got here about 30 minutes ago. The other three with an older man just arrived now with bags of food."
"Nice report…what are they doing?" Pedro snapped.
"Relax kid, I’m getting to that," both Spaniards seemed to be losing control Arabe thought, "The girls and the woman are at the swings with the baby. The redhead and the pony-tailed one were have a discussion about something until the others arrived. I’m thinking that they will probably eat and talk. Now would be a good time to go check out the apartment." Arabe hated the surveillance business. He had spent all of yesterday doing that. Breaking and entering and searching were a lot more enjoyable. And he could do it without anyone knowing that he had gone through their things…unless he wanted them to know.
There was a brief conference on the other end of the line. Then Pedro came back on, "Okay, search the apartment. Remember, we only want the disc…nothing else, not even if it looks valuable."
"Do you think I am a common thief?" Arabe began to get angry. How dare they think that!
"No, we don’t, it’s just that…" Pedro’s voice trailed off. "Esta bien, just go search. Call when you are done." He ended the connection and turned to Sergio.
"Te dijo anoche que ahora yo estoy encargado de la operación. ¡Y no lo olvides!"
Arabe closed his phone and put it back in his coat pocket. He pulled his hat low over his forehead and strolled past the Americans. He was dressed in ragged, black clothing that looked as if he had worn them, without washing, for weeks. That was the look he was aiming for. He was much darker than the Spaniards, but not too much darker than the gitanos, the gypsies. By dressing as they did, he hoped to draw less attention to himself.
Hans handed out sandwiches to the hungry Bob-Whites with a smile. "I know, they look odd, but trust me, these are the best bocadillos that you will ever eat."
Trixie eyed the thick sandwich warily. It was about six inches long made on crusty bread. It looked similar to French bread, but she had learned at dinner the night before that it wasn’t. And she had learned that it wasn’t to be called bread, but pan. That wasn’t the strange part, it was the filling of the sandwich that was different.
"Um, can you tell us what it is? Or do we just have to brave it?" Honey asked.
"I think you all can brave it. You are always looking for new adventures, correct?" Hans glanced at Di, Mart and Dan, "And don’t you three tell them what it is."
"Yes, sir!" Mart responded with a wink. He then took a large bite out of his bocadillo, "Delicious. I will have to learn how to make this or take up residence here in Spain."
The four Bob-Whites who had not accompanied Hans to the embassy that morning were all inspecting the innards of their sandwiches. None were successful in figuring out what it was. It was about a half-inch thick, pale yellow with a slightly oniony smell.
"Vaya guys, just try it," Juliana shook her head, "I’ve never seen any of you so cautious about something ever!"
In unison, the four took bites of their sandwiches. The rest of the group watched them carefully, waiting for their reactions to bocadillos de tortilla.
All four were surprised at the taste. It was delicious! They had no idea what they were eating, but it was good.
"Okay," Brian said with a grin. "We’ve survived the first bite, now are you going to tell us what it is?"
"A Spanish delicacy – tortilla de patata." Hans replied. "A bit different than Mexican tortillas, right? The Spanish tortilla is an omelet. The most common kind is what you are eating – potatoes and onions. I don’t know who first decided to slice it and but it between two pieces of pan, but they sure knew what they were doing."
His explanation was met with nods of agreements from the seven Bob-Whites. Not even Mart would have thought that an omelet would taste good as a sandwich, but this was definitely one of the best that any of them had ever eaten.
The next several minutes were quiet, except for the sounds of a radio in the background, as the group devoured the bocadillos, French fries and Fanta de Naranja.
Downing the last of her can of Fanta, Honey turned to Dan, "Okay, now that we’ve eaten, will you share your findings with us?"
Dan swallowed his last bite and nodded his head. Glancing at Mart and Di who nodded okay, Dan reached for the papers in Hans’ outstretched hand.
As Dan started to speak, Betje began to fuss. Juliana moved as if to stand up, but Hans intervened. "I’ll take her, I already know what they found out." With a sigh, he cuddled his daughter close and walked towards the swings.
"Is it bad Dan?" Jim asked, his green eyes darkening in concern.
"Well, it isn’t good news," Di said in a low voice. "We found Sergio, the guy from the train and airport. And the guy who jumped, Pablo."
"We also have some stuff on a guy that I think is the one you saw yesterday in the train station, Honey," Mart added.
Dan began to read the first sheet of paper that he held in his hand.
"NAME: SERGIO DELGADO MURILLO
BORN: LORCA, MURCIA, ESPAÑA – 27-3-47
MARRIED: MARIA JESUS PLUME LOPEZ, 18-6-69, BADALONA, BARCELONA, ESPAÑA. NO CHILDREN.
PROFESSION: LAWYER.
RECRUITED 1970/1: SUSPECTED OF PLANTING A BOMB ON A TRAIN IN TARRAGONA THAT ETA LATER TOOK CREDIT FOR, BUT THERE WAS NO PROOF OF HIS INVOLVEMENT. WIFE VANISHED IN 1973 – "COLLATERAL" FOR SERGIO’S LOYALTY. SHE IS NOW PRESUMED DEAD.
HIS INVOLVEMENT W/ ETA IS PRIMARILY THAT OF "ERRAND BOY" – PLANTING BOMBS, SMUGGLING DRUGS, ETC.
HE HAS ALSO ORGANIZED THE KIDNAPPINGS OF SEVERAL PROMINENT GOVERNMENT AND MILITARY LEADERS WHO WERE LATER INJURED OR KILLED.
LAST SEEN: BARCELONA."Dan paused and looked at the circle of faces staring back at him. No one said a word. He silently passed the accompanying picture around the group. There was no doubt, it was the man that Trixie had seen in the airport when they arrived two days before; the man that had held Diana hostage for those terrifying minutes on the train.
"It could be worse, right?" Honey asked as she looked at the picture of Sergio. "He could be a hit man or something?"
"Trust me, it gets worse," Dan began to read from another page.
"NAME: PABLO MANUEL PRAT
BORN: BILBAO, VIZCAYA, ESPAÑA -8-8-77
RECRUITED 1997 BY OLDER BROTHER, PEDRO (see Prat,Pedro 1989). NEVER INVOLVED IN ANYTHING SERIOUS…DELIVERY OF PACKAGES.
MILI SERVICE PALMA DE MALLORCA, BALERES, 1996.
LAST SEEN: BARCELONA."This time the picture that Dan passed around brought Trixie to life. She flung it on the ground. "Never been involved in anything serious! Trying to throw someone off of a cathedral isn’t serious. What next?"
With a sigh, Dan began, "This is the guy that Mart thinks Honey saw in the train station yesterday." He held out a picture of a man. The picture was blurry, but it was visible that he was Middle Eastern.
"Yeah, that’s the guy that was watching us while talking on a phone in the station. He gave me the creeps!" Honey turned the picture face-down and said, "Okay, Dan, let’s hear about him."
From the last piece of paper that he held, Dan read,
"NAME: UNKNOWN…REFERRED TO AS ‘ARABE’
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: UNKNOWN
AGE: ESTIMATED EARLY-MID FORTIES
PROFESSIONAL TERRORIST.
CONNECTIONS WITH PLO, ETA, IRA AND OTHER TERRORIST GROUPS.
HE IS WANTED IN ENGLAND, FRANCE, SPAIN, IRELAND, GREECE, ITALY, GERMANY, ISRAEL AND SEVERAL OTHER COUNTRIES FOR MANY CRIMES – INCLUDING THOSE OF KIDNAPPING AND MURDER.
LAST SEEN: BARCELONA.
HE LEAVES NO SURVIVORS."The group sat in silence as the last sentence sunk in. If this guy ‘Arabe’ was involved in the whole backpack thing…they could be in some serious trouble!
* * *
15 MARZO
ABEN AL ABBAR 18 – 23
PISO DE HANS Y JULIANAIt was so easy to get in to the apartment buildings. All you had to do was buzz an apartment and say, "Propaganda." The women would always open for the grocery advertisements. Silly, trusting Spaniards. Arabe shook his head. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever been that trusting.
Quickly he took the elevator up to the fifth floor and then quietly walked back down a flight to the fourth floor. There it was; number 23. He had overheard enough of the Bob-Whites conversations yesterday to know the name one of the people they were staying with. Then he had just followed their van in a taxi. Large greenish colored vans were pretty conspicuous in Valencia. It had been easy to locate the apartment number by reading the names of the people on the doorbells at the front door. There had only been one that listed the name of Hans. Not a common Spanish name. Even Sergio could have handled this assignment this far.
Looking both ways in the dark hall, Arabe saw no one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lock picking kit. In less than a minute he had the door open and slipped in, locking it behind him.
Checking his watch, he saw that it was half past twelve. He should have at least half an hour if not more before the group returned. With practiced ease, he began a thorough search of the apartment. He had been doing this for so long, that he could search an entire apartment in half the time of most people and find more than they did anyway.
Thirty-five minutes later he sat down on the couch to think for a minute. He had searched every room, drawer, suitcase, backpack, shelf etc. that there was and no CD. He had looked in the CD players and the stereo. He had looked in all the cases of the CDs in the entire apartment. It just wasn’t there.
Had the Americans figured out what they were searching for and turned it over to the authorities? No that couldn’t be…there is no way for them to have figured out the importance of that one disc.
One of them must have it in their possession. Should he stay and wait? No, bad idea. They would out number him by too many. Before he could make further plans, he heard the scratching of a key in the lock.
Arabe didn’t panic, he was too well trained for that. Silently he slipped into the kitchen. He opened the door to the inner balcony and stepped outside. He looked over the side and surveyed the situation. Too far to jump, but still there was a way. Without hesitation he pulled himself over the short wall of the balcony and reached for a clothesline. The line stretched and sagged under his weight as he hung to the line. When he saw that the next line was not too far below his body he let go of the upper line and dropped, breaking his fall only by grabbing on to the next line. He repeated the process twice more until his feet were dangling a few feet from the patio below. Then he let go and dropped to the ground.
With a quick glance upward, he saw that all the lines were now sagging dreadfully. He chuckled to himself and thought, That will give them all something to wonder about.
He picked the lock to the outer door and entered the narrow alley that led between two buildings and quickly found his way to the street.
Now it was time to call Pedro and Sergio and report that the disc was not to be found among the Americans’ belongings.
Chapter Sixteen
15 MARZO
LATER THAT AFTERNOON
ABEN AL ABBAR 18 – 23
PISO DE HANS Y JULIANAWhen they had returned from the park a couple of hours earlier the Bob-Whites, Hans and Juliana had discussed the printouts in more detail. Hans had wanted to notify his superiors about the possibility of these wanted men being at large in the area. After much consideration, the Bob-Whites had agreed with him. Being as they had no idea what the men could be after and the fact that they were known terrorists, they decided that it would be best to work with the authorities. Hans decided to wait and talk with his bosses until the next morning, since it was a Sunday afternoon and the beginning of fallas it would be difficult to locate them. He did put a call into the policia in Sagunto to tell them that the Americans had remembered the name of the man from the train and also that they believed he was wanted as a member of ETA.
After that they had all fallen silent and eventually drifted to different activities. Honey had joined Juliana in the kitchen where she was making apple pies to take to dinner at the Mambos’ that evening. Hans had decided to take a nap since he had been up with Betje the night before. Mart and Diana were flipping channels on the TV and were amazed at the amount of dubbed American sitcoms that were on. Finally, they had settled on an old episode of X-Files that they had both seen and Mart was trying to pretend he understood all of what was being said. Dan nominated himself as babysitter and was entertaining Betje while Brian and Jim sat out on the balcony.
Trixie had tried to amuse herself with the TV and grew restless. After playing with Dan and Betje awhile, she went into the kitchen to see if she could help with the pies. Cooking and baking weren’t two of her favorite pastimes, but it would take her mind off of the two problems she didn’t want to face right then – her feelings of guilt about being involved in a mystery and her feelings of guilt for being rude to Jim all afternoon. Twice he had tried to apologize for having jumped on her that morning, and twice she had blown him off. Finally he lost his temper and had stomped out to the balcony.
But when she entered the kitchen, she found that peeling apples was the last thing that she wanted to do. After asking Juliana why she was making pies and learning that apple pie was a rarity in Spain and that it was the favorite dessert of the Mambos’ children, Trixie had tried to make herself useful. However, after dropping her apple three times and then cutting herself with the paring knife, she had decided that she needed a "no-brainer" activity. That was when Juliana had told her to feel free to look through the photo albums.
The first album had been of the wedding at Manor House a few years previous. Trixie smiled as she remembered the excitement that they had all felt to be part of a real wedding. She was glad that Uncle Andrew’s wedding last year had been much calmer. Her smile faded only slightly as she remembered the mystery that had been attached to the wedding – of the phony Miss Ryks who had actually been a man in disguise and had been using kids from Dan’s old gang to rob the houses along Glen Road. True, it had been dangerous. And Bobby had been threatened and Dan and Hallie had been kidnapped, but all had turned out well and no one was hurt. That’s how mysteries were supposed to be. That’s how all of her and Honey’s mysteries had been. Sure, it was dangerous at the time, but in the end the good guys won and the bad guys went to jail. She had gotten so used to things working like that that half the time she expected the crooks to say ‘And I would’ve gotten away if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids’ like the bad guys said in Scooby Doo.
The last mystery that they had solved hadn’t fit into the normal pattern. People were hurt and the good guys didn’t come away without a scratch. After talking with Brian, she was able to understand more of what had happened, but she still couldn’t help thinking that her luck with mysteries had run out. That was why she was so afraid to get mixed up in another one. What if someone really got hurt? Brian had been hurt last time, but he had been able to get better. What if something happened to one of her friends in such a way that they couldn’t get better?
Shaking these thoughts from her head, she opened the next album. It was full of pictures of Hans and Juliana in Holland. She flipped through the pages and saw the life of the newlyweds unfold. How happy they looked. Would she ever be that happy? The thought of Jim flashed through her mind. She almost laughed. Sure she liked Jim; she liked him a lot. And she was pretty sure the feelings were mutual, but marriage was a long way away. They’d dated off and on for the past year or so – her parents hadn’t allowed her to really date until she was sixteen – but he’d never kissed her.
With a sigh she opened up the album of Betje’s first year and tried to force all other things from her mind except for how cute she had been as a baby.
"So, you think that is what’s bothering her?" Jim looked at his best friend carefully. "She decided for some reason to no longer be involved in mysteries and is trying to stay out of this one?"
"Yeah, that’s what I think. I don’t know any details or anything. Honey just wrote that she didn’t think that there would be any more mysteries for Trixie." Brian stared out at the tall apartment buildings that seemed to be the only kind of building in Spain, "Moms and Dad try to act convinced that those few years of mysteries were only a phase, but I don’t think that they really believe that. In fact I tried asking Moms once why Trixie wasn’t up to her ears in mysteries and clues and crooks."
"And what did she say?"
"Well, I tried to play it as a joking comment, and Moms tried to respond in that way too, but she was pretty concerned. She finally told me that she had asked Trixie a couple of times about the sudden lack of adventure in her life and she never really got an answer out of her. Said she just closed up."
Jim let out a low whistle, "She closed up to your mom? That isn’t like Trixie. She usually can talk to your mom about anything."
"I know, that’s why it was so strange. Moms did get one thing out of her. The last time she tried to talk to Trixie about this, Trixie just left the room, but as she left, she muttered something under her breath. Moms caught the word ‘promise.’ So she thinks that either Trixie promised to not talk about it or promised to not get involved in stuff anymore."
In spite of his concern, Jim laughed, "I see where Trixie gets her inquisitiveness from – your mom is pretty good at following clues too."
Brian grinned at Jim, "I said something like that to her. She said no, it wasn’t following clues, it was mother’s intuition."
After a few minutes of sitting in silence Jim queried, "So, do you think you could come straight out and ask Trixie about this or do you think you would have better luck with asking Honey?"
Brian twisted the rubber band he had just removed from his hair and stared off into space. Finally he spoke, "I’ll have a go at pumping Honey for more information, since she did write me about it. Do you want me to go try now?"
Before Jim could answer, Trixie came out to the balcony. "Guys, Juliana just took the pies out of the oven. She said to tell you that we will be heading to Mambos in about ten minutes."
Before either young man could respond, she had ducked back into the apartment.
"Well, maybe you’ll have a chance to talk to Honey at dinner?"
"I’ll try. Are you going to have another go at apologizing to Trix?"
"Maybe," with a sheepish grin he added, "if I can keep myself from getting mad at her again."
Brian laughed loudly, "Man, what a relationship you guys have! At least it never gets boring."
15 MARZO
EVENING
SAGUNTO"So, we have no idea now where the disc could be?" Pedro slammed his fist down hard on the table in front of him.
"They have to have it somewhere," Sergio growled. "Arabe, are you sure you looked everywhere."
His black eyes snapping with anger Arabe answered, "For the fifth time, YES! I looked everywhere in that apartment and it was not to be found. Someone of them must have had it on them - in a purse or backpack or something – if they ever really had it."
"Oh course they had it, idiota! Bernard…"
Arabe interrupted with a sneer, "Yes, Bernard. How do we know that he really planted it on the red-head? Maybe this whole thing is a set up. Maybe he sold out to Interpol or some government. Have you thought of that?"
Sergio paled. He hadn’t thought of that. He knew that Bernard played many sides and couldn’t be completely trusted, but he had never thought of him working for the authorities.
"¡Basta ya!" Pedro’s hand slammed down once again, shaking the collection of beer bottles on the table. "Enough of the arguing. We need a plan and we need one fast."
The two older men were silenced and turned to look at Pedro. He had been serious about the work and the cause before, but there was now almost a fanatical light in his eyes. It made Sergio uncomfortable. It excited Arabe. He recognized it for what it was – a mixture of revenge, commitment, and ambivalence to your own personal welfare. He smiled. Pedro would become powerful – very powerful.
Okay…this chapter is a little strange. But I wanted the gang to experience a meal like those that I participated in almost daily for a year and a half. All of the characters that I’ve added in the dinner scene are real – some would be flattered and some wouldn’t to be included in this. WARNING: There are some references to religion in this chapter.
Chapter Seventeen
15 Marzo
Evening
Mambos’ house
Valencia
As Hans locked the doors of the Mambo Mobile, he turned to the Bob-Whites. "You’ve seen the size of our house and it’s not very roomy. Well, the Mambos’ place is a little smaller."
"Uh, Hans, didn’t you say that the guy has six kids?" Dan looked slightly puzzled.
"Yeah – at least here. He has five or six others that live in Madrid with his first wife." Hans grinned at the amazed looks on the faces of his guests. "Emilio Mambo is an interesting man – and very generous, you’ll see that. We probably aren’t the only guests for Sunday dinner."
The Bob-Whites found that hard to believe. True, Juliana had told them that several of the kids in the family were at some church conference in Madrid, but who would invite more than nine extra people to dinner?
Moments later they discovered that Emilio and Magdalena Mambo would invite more than nine extra people to dinner.
When Trixie entered the tiny living room it didn’t appear that their whole group could possibly fit in there. Already seated on two small couches were three young men that looked to be around Brian and Jim’s ages, two of whom were dressed in dark suits. Trixie wondered for a moment if they should have dressed up more, even though Juliana had told them there was no need to dress up. Trixie glanced down at her khaki Dockers, white v-necked T-shirt and woven vest of variegated blue yarn; nothing fancy, but she was presentable. Then she focused on the older man the other three were talking with. Not only was he the darkest man Trixie had ever seen in her life, he looked as if he was wearing several layers of clothes, none of which were in the best state of repair. Obviously, there wasn’t a dress code for dinner and she relaxed slightly as she crowded into the living room.
Peeking out from behind the couch was a little boy who looked to be about five years old. When Trixie’s blue eyes met his large dark brown ones, he gave a shy grin and then ducked down behind the couch.
Suddenly a smiling man with a graying Afro spoke to her. In confusion Trixie thought, Didn’t Juliana tell them that none of us speak Spanish? Then realizing that he was speaking heavily accented English, she smiled and extended her hand to shake his as he repeated, "Welcome to my home. I am Mambo. Welcome!" Mumbling her name, she moved out of the way so that he could greet her brothers.
"Here Hermana, have this chair."
Startled by the low voice beside her, Trixie turned and saw the dark man that she had observed from the doorway standing up.
Shaking her head, she tried to decline the offer.
"Please, Hermana, have the chair. I will stand." The man’s face broke into a large toothy grin.
She couldn’t help but grin back and accepted the chair. "Thank you. I’m Trixie."
He nodded. "Trixie. A good name. I’m called Juan Pedro – John Peter."
Trixie pointed to her brothers who had sat at the table with Dan and Honey. "Those are my older brothers – Brian and Mart. And those are some of our friends, Dan and Honey."
"Mart? He looks like you. You are gemelos?"
Gemelos? Trixie had never heard that word before. She started to shake her head when the brown-haired young man sitting at the couch facing her translated, "Twins. Gemelos means twins." He had a Southern accent. Trixie was surprised to see another American.
John Peter smacked his forehead with his palm. "That word. I always forget it in English."
Smiling gratefully at the guy on the couch Trixie shook her head, "No, we’re not twins. He’s almost a year older than I am."
"Okay. I thought Mambo said that there were nine of you. I only saw six come in." John Peter looked carefully around the room trying to see where other people could be.
"There are. Juliana, Diana and Jim took some pies into the kitchen." Trixie had hardly got the words out when the largest of the three young men on the couch spoke.
"Did you say pie? Please tell me you said pie." He was a large blond guy with thinning hair and looked like he had enjoyed many pies in his life.
"Uh, yeah. Apple pie."
"Oh, yes!! I haven’t had apple pie in…"
"You haven’t had pie in four months. We know. You say that all the time. You’ve whined about it since you got here the day after Thanksgiving and found out that the herms had made one for us." The one that had translated for Trixie smirked at his friend. "What would you do if I said that we had an appointment and couldn’t stay for dinner?" He winked a blue eye at Trixie as he spoke.
"Waxter, you wouldn’t do that to me?" the blond whined.
Oh my gosh, he sounds like Bobby used to! Trixie was trying hard not to laugh.
"Let’s see, Swing, would I do something like that to you?" He turned to the third young man on the couches and asked, "Are you following all this, Tony? Would I do this to Swing?"
The Spanish boy furrowed his brow in concentration. "You talk too fast. I didn’t get all of it."
The Southerner, Waxter, quickly explained in Spanish what he had been teasing the blond guy about. As Tony laughed, he turned back to Swing. "I was just pulling your leg, boy, we’re staying. Not only for the apple pie – also for the moscas de miel that are joining us."
Swing started to speak and Waxter cut him off, "Sorry for being so rude to not introduce myself." He flashed a smile at Trixie and said, "I’m Waxter, this is my sidekick Swing and this here is Antonio – we’re teaching him right now."
Trixie smiled back. "Like I said, I’m Trixie. I wasn’t expecting to meet other Americans here, but it’s kind of nice to see some fellow countrymen here."
"I know how you feel. You all are the first Americans that I’ve seen since I’ve been here," the blond, Swing, said excitedly.
"The first Americans you’ve seen? I don’t think our piso-mates or the herms would appreciate that." Waxter seemed to enjoy poking fun at his friend. He had winked again at Trixie as he spoke. Trixie didn’t quite get the joke, but she had a feeling that this Southerner had a sense of humor like her almost-twin’s.
"Dang it, Waxter! You know what I meant." And obviously, Swing responded much like she did, getting upset and not seeing the joke until later.
Before Trixie could ask another question, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t have to look up to know that it was Jim. She wasn’t angry with him any more. She had ended up sitting in the backward facing seats of the van with him on the trip across town. They had had a chance to talk and reach an agreement – Jim would try not to overreact and she would tell him what was bothering her when she was ready.
Jim sat down next to Tony and introduced himself, "Hi, I’m Jim Frayne. I see that you’ve met Trixie."
"I’m Waxter, this is Swing and you’re sitting next to Tony. That--" signaling toward the man who had given Trixie his chair, "That is John Peter."
"Waxter and Swing? Those are your last names, right?" Jim asked.
"Yeah. That’s what we go by," Waxter responded, "So, where y’all from?"
"We’re from New York State. We’re here visiting my cousin and her family. They invited us to come visit for the fallas."
"Las fallas – the fiesta to end all fiestas." Waxter nodded. "I didn’t get to see it last year, I was up in Barcelona, so I’m glad to be down here this year. Semana Santa is another one that you’ve got to see."
Jim started to ask another question, but was interrupted by Waxter saying under his breath, "And that is the best mosca de miel I’ve seen in a looong time!"
Trixie looked up to see where he was looking and saw that Di had entered the room carrying Betje. I don’t know what mosca de miel means, but I guess it has something to do with gorgeous girls.
"That isn’t your cousin, is it, Jim?" Waxter asked, not taking his eyes off of Di.
Trying to suppress a grin, Jim teased, "Which one, Waxter?"
"The gor…I mean, not the baby." He had caught himself as Swing elbowed him in the side.
"The baby is my cousin, the other is Diana Lynch, another of our friends. I guess we should introduce you to the rest of the gang."
Before Jim could motion for the other Bob-Whites to move their chairs over to join them, Emilio Mambo entered the room with a petite woman with long curly black hair and a small girl with frizzy black curls going that flew in every direction. When faced with a roomful of strange people, the little girl ducked behind her father.
"Welcome!" Emilio began with a large smile. He paused and then glanced at the young men on the couch, "Elder, ¿me ayudas con la traducción un poquito?"
"Claro que si, Hermano Mambo." Waxter responded.
"Bienvenidos a nuestra casa. Esta es mi mujer, Magdalena y ésta…"
"Un momento, por favor," Waxter pleaded. "Dejáme traducir."
After Mambo nodded, Waxter translated, "Welcome to my home. This is my wife, Magdalena and this, sigue."
"Esta es mi hijita, Lourdes y alla es mi hijito Abram."
"This is my daughter, Lourdes," Waxter blew a kiss to her and she giggled. "And over there is my son, Abram." As Waxter finished the sentence, Swing reached behind the couch and pulled the little boy Trixie had seen earlier out of his hiding place.
"Disculpan los niños, ellos son un poco tímido con nueva gente."
"Forgive the kids, they’re a little shy with new people," Waxter said as he reached over to tickle Abram.
Over his son’s laughter, Mambo continued, "La comida falta un poquito hasta que sea hecho. Pero podemos presentarnos mientras esperamos."
"Gotta’ give the man some lessons in speaking for translators," Waxter complained, "Um, the food isn’t quite ready so we can introduce ourselves while we wait." He nodded at their host to indicate that he was finished.
"Ya conocéis a nosotros, pues ahora vosotros podéis presentaros y el élder va a traduccir."
"You all know us, so now you all can introduce yourselves and the elder, that being me, will translate." Waxter looked around at the group. He felt a little nervous for some reason, but didn’t know why. He’d been introducing himself to strangers for a year and a half now and had no problems doing it. Maybe it was because this was really the first time he had to do it in English, to people from his own country.
Hans stood up from where he had been sitting at the table. "I’m Hans Vorwaald. I live here in Valencia with my wife Juliana and our daughter Betje. We’re from Holland and I’m here working for the Dutch Embassy for a few years. I know Emilio from work."
He sat down and took Betje from Diana as Waxter translated for the Mambos. Then Juliana stood up. "I’m Juliana and I’m responsible for there being such a large group here. I invited my cousin and his sister and their friends to come and visit us during fallas. And thanks to the generosity of the Mambos, not only are they feeding us all tonight, but they’ve also lent us the use of their van for the next week or so."
While the translation was being done, Swing piped up, "So that’s where the Mambo Mobile is. We didn’t see it this morning so we were curious. That must be why we took the bus. Hermana Mambo probably explained it, but I still don’t understand everything and Waxter never tells me anything. I’m just glad we took the bus 'cause my feet are killing me from walking every day…" His voice dwindled off as he caught Waxter glaring at him.
"Jolín, Swing, if you’re going to blab you might as well introduce yourself." Waxter shook his head in exasperation at his companion.
"Okay. I’m Elder Swing. I’m from Indiana. I’ve been in Spain for about four months and this is my first city. I love it here! I wish I spoke Spanish better, but they say it takes awhile to really get fluent. I have an older brother and younger brother and a little sister. She’s so cute and I miss her. I went to BYU for a year before I came here and…" when he paused for a breath, Waxter cut in.
"Alright, thanks. I’m Elder Waxter. I’m from Carolina del Norte, that is North Carolina. I’ve been here, in Spain, about sixteen months now. Before you wonder about us having the same first name, let me explain." This was really different than doing a street or door approach, he felt like he was going to start rambling like Swing. "We’re missionaries for the Mormon Church and have been assigned to Spain for two years. Swing here is just beginning and I’m over halfway. This is my sixth month here in Valencia. I’ve been all over this part of the country. Barcelona, Cartagena, Orihuela, Alicante, Zaragoza and now here. Oh yeah, I went to Ricks College in Idaho before coming out here."
Waxter didn’t bother to translate what he and Swing had said; the Mambos knew both of them well enough that he didn’t need to tell them again.
"I’ll start introductions for our group. I’m Jim Frayne, Juliana’s cousin. Since we haven’t had the chance to see each other for a while, I’m grateful for this visit." When the translation was completed he finished, "I’ve seen your temple in Salt Lake – I went to the University of Utah for my first semester of college and then transferred back to New York. I’m a sophomore now. Visited BYU a couple times – one of our roommates had done his graduate work there."
Brian spoke up from his seat behind the table. "I’m Brian Belden and I’m here as one of Juliana’s guests. I’m here with my siblings and friends to see the fallas." He paused for Waxter to translate. "We’re from New York State. I’m a freshman in college there." He thought carefully about his next remarks. He knew a bit about the Mormons from his stint at the University of Utah. They were nice people, for the most part. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to mention that he had gone to school there. But it was two years ago, these guys probably wouldn’t remember the publicity that drug ring had gotten. "I also attended the University of Utah, but just for a quarter – ran into several missionaries out there."
As Waxter translated the last part of Brian’s introduction, his mind was going in another direction. Brian’s name was familiar and he looked vaguely familiar. But he couldn’t quite place it.
"I’m Mart Belden, Brian’s younger brother and Trixie’s older one. I also reside in New York and will soon depart the hallowed halls of public learning."
"And he likes big words and uncommon words," Dan said with a grin. "I am Dan Mangan. I grew up in New York City but moved a few years back. Now I’m also a freshman in college. I’m not related to any of the bunch."
"Well, since it looks like we’re kind of going around the table, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Honey Wheeler, also from New York. I’m here with my brother Jim and our friends to visit his cousin. And it is an added bonus to meet all of you."
"I’m Di Lynch. Like Dan, I’m not related to any of the gang, but I’ve known Trixie and her brothers since preschool. Us girls are all juniors, we still have another year before we can depart the hallowed halls." She smiled at Swing, "Elder Swing, I understand you missing your little sister – I have two younger brothers and two younger sisters and I always miss them whenever we go somewhere."
"Di neglects to mention that those twin ten-year-old boys and twin eight-year-old girls. And her twin brothers hang out with our ten-year-old brother and they become the terror triplets," Trixie said with a laugh. "I’m Trixie, younger sister to the characters at the table. Everyone has pretty much covered the where we’re from and what we do thing, so I just have one question, Elder Waxter."
After translating her sentences he asked, "Yes, Trixie?"
"What does moscas de miel mean?" She knew her pronunciation was horrible, but she could tell from the reddening of his face that he knew what she meant.
Swing let out a roar of laughter and so did John Peter. Waxter mumbled something that she couldn’t hear.
Tony, who had been trying hard to follow the English conversation swirling around him decided that now was the time for him to tease Waxter a little.
"Mosca de miel is the literal translation of Elder Waxter’s favorite descriptive phrase." He quickly translated for the Mambos what he had said and added something out. Emilio and Magdalena joined in the laughter.
Waxter put his face in his hands. Okay, now would be a good time for translation to happen – except after this it’ll never happen for me…
Tony continued slowly, "My English isn’t very good – I’m learning. But mosca de miel means ‘fly honey’." Seeing the puzzled look on the faces of all the Bob-Whites he explained further, "It is what Waxter calls las guapas, the pretty ones. He has been admiring the four ‘fly honeys’ that are visiting today." As he finished, he had a wicked twinkle in his eye as he watched his American friend trying to shrink down on the couch. He had never seen Waxter become embarrassed about anything; this was a first.
"Hoo boy, the herms are going to love this one!" Swing chortled.
"The herms don’t need to know about this," Waxter said through clinched teeth.
"Erms?" Brian asked as the Mambos left the room to check on dinner.
"Oh, just part of our shorthand Spanish. It’s short for hermanas, the girl missionaries. The guys are all 'élder' and the girls are all 'hermana' or 'sister'," Swing explained. "They’re always telling Waxter that it is rude and derogatory to refer to women the way that he does, so they will LOVE to hear about this."
"It’s not that it’s rude, they just say that 'cause I never call them fly honey." Waxter was starting to get over his embarrassment.
"No," John Peter said. "It is because you are not to be looking and you are not putting your thoughts as they should be." His words silenced Waxter and caused him to look to the floor again, as if praying for it to swallow him up.
"I am John Peter – Juan Pedro. That is the name that has been chosen. I, like the Mambos, am originally from Africa. My English is much better than my Spanish, but I love my Spanish hermanos."
"John Peter, how long have you been here?" Honey asked.
"Oh, many many years. I am here and I cannot leave."
"You can’t leave? How come?" Trixie’s inquisitive nature was making a comeback.
Clearing his throat Waxter broke in, "Hey, Tony, you still need to present yourself."
"I am Antonio Contreras. I’m Spanish. Los élderes are helping me with the English so that I can continue my studies in England. They are also helping me with other things."
Di smiled prettily at Tony. "Your English is really good now. How much better does it need to be?"
He smiled back at her, a smile of perfect white teeth, something that was a rarity in Spain."Thank you, Diana, but it still lacks much. You see I plan to go to England to train at Scotland Yard. My career is to be that of a detective."
The elders and Tony stared in amazement as Trixie and Honey blushed slightly and the other five Bob-Whites laughed.
"It is funny. you think, to desire to become a detective?" Tony wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not by the reaction of the seven Americans.
"No, no, it’s not that," Juliana spoke over the laughter. "You see, Honey and Trixie are pretty accomplished detectives. In fact all the Bob-Whites have solved quite a number of mysteries."
"You’re not serious?" Waxter asked incredulously. "Teenage girls as detectives? Like that Nancy Drew chick?" He laughed.
Honey, her hazel eyes flashing, retorted, "Yeah, teenage girls. But we’re not too much like Nancy Drew – we’re a little more realistic."
"Tranquíla, didn’t mean to mock you or anything. It just seems a little far-out."
"If you’re not familiar with Honey and my sister, I can see you thinking that way," Brian’s low voice put an end to the laughter. "But we’ve all seen them in action – and they’ve helped every single one of us at some point or another by following clues and searching out the truth."
"They’ve helped out the government too. They helped the FBI put an end to a gun smuggling ring on the Mississippi a few years back." Mart grinned at his sister. "Trixie and Honey look so sweet and innocent and harmless, but you need to think twice before messing with them."
"Also they managed to get mixed up with some international jewel thieves in New York City one summer and helped the American and Peruvian police capture some wanted criminals," Dan threw in.
"And now," Juliana began.
"And now," Trixie interrupted, "We’re on a vacation."
Trixie’s brothers and friends looked at her carefully. What was going on with her?
"Yes, vacation!" Honey smiled at their new acquaintances. "So you’re missionaries. Is that how you know the Mambos? From church?"
Waxter nodded at Swing to answer the question while he motioned for Lourdes to come over to the couch by her little brother.
"Yeah, they’re in our branch here. Most of their kids are at a conference in Madrid for the week. If they were all here this place would be a madhouse. We usually play basketball with the older kids when they’re all here."
"You wish!" Waxter couldn’t help but comment on that remark. "I play basketball with the kids and you stay out here and "study" when you’re really taking a nap."
Squirming uncomfortably, Swing tried to change the subject. "We have medio dia with people from church most every day. Today we’re having it later ‘cause Tony had something else going on."
"Medio-dia? Middle of the day?" This wasn’t making since to Mart.
"Kind of like lunch and dinner combined – usually between 2 and 4 in the afternoon; then siesta." Swing decided not to go on and tell them that they didn’t have a dinner hour, they ate something if they were hungry when they got home around 10 or 10:30pm, if they had time before bedtime at 11. Last time he’d started on that Waxter had told him to shut up and quit whining.
Jim spoke up for the first time since the introductions, "Where do you guys play basketball? Out on the patio?"
"No, in the kids’ bedroom. They’ve got a little hoop on the back of the door." Waxter sized up Jim. "Wanna’ play?"
"Waxter! We can’t play on Sun…"
"Shut up Swing! It’s a new way of finding; add it to the list in the biblia blanca."
After a quick discussion, Brian, Jim, Mart, Hans and Waxter decided to play. Abram, suddenly overcoming his shyness, pulled a battered box of checkers out from under the couch. He dragged it over to the table where Dan was still sitting. He smiled timidly at Dan and said something to him in Spanish, pointing at the box.
Dan wasn’t sure what he saying, but understood the pointing and set the box on the table. He was searching his memory for the word for play when Juliana spoke up softly, "Abram, ¿quieres jugar con Dan?"
The dark eyes moved from Dan to Juliana and back again and he nodded his head, "Sí," he whispered.
"Juliana, do you think he knows how to play?" Dan didn’t mind playing with the little boy, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed.
"He probably understands the basics. He may only be five, but remember not only does he have five older brothers and sisters here and several others that come and visit, but from what Magdalena has said, those missionaries and others like them come over weekly and play with the kids before dinner. They can’t watch TV or listen to the radio, so they play checkers with the kids."
"O.K. Tell him I’ll play."
"Bueno Abram, Dan también quiere jugar."
The little boy’s small smiled turned into a huge grin and he began to set up the game.
Juliana took Betje into the other bedroom to put her down for a nap and Honey and Di moved over to the vacated spaces on the couch. There they found that Lourdes had produced a photo album from somewhere and was showing pictures to Trixie. She had also turned on the stereo and the sounds of the Beatles, in Spanish, were filling the room.
Honey and Di began talking with Tony and Swing, asking questions about Valencia and what life was like for the young American who had only been in the country a few months.
"Esta es mi hermana Belén. Y éstas son algunas amigas americanas."
Trixie didn’t really know what the little girl was saying, but she studied the pictures carefully with her. She remembered the word hermana and decided that the first picture must be one of Lourdes’ older sisters. The other was of four girls in longish skirts. Three of them looked American and all four were wearing the same type of nametags that the two elders were wearing.
John Peter moved closer to Trixie and Lourdes and occasionally commented on the people in the pictures. There were pictures of Lourdes and her little brother when they were quite small. There was a rather comical picture of Lourdes wearing a pair of sweat pants on her head with the legs hanging down her back with what looked like a scrunchie wrapped around the legs. Trixie smiled and pointed at the picture. Lourdes laughter bubbled over as she tried to explain to Trixie about the picture. Not able to understand a single word, Trixie looked to John Peter for help.
"Oh, the little one is saying that when she was little she wanted long hair, like her hermanas and the hermanas americanas that visited. And her mamá always cut her hair very short, like a boy so there wouldn’t be piojos," Trixie didn’t know what piojos was, but she thought she could guess. "So, little Lourdes, she would put the pants on her head and imaginar that it was her hair, nice and long and straight."
Trixie ran a hand through her shoulder length curls and grinned, "John Peter, tell her I understand. I wanted long straight hair too, when I was little."
John Peter repeated Trixie’s statement in Spanish to Lourdes. Lourdes giggled again and put her small hand in Trixie’s and grasped it.
Trixie squeezed back and they continued looking at the pictures. They came to one picture and John Peter spoke up again, "Oh, I remember that one. It was a Navidad a few years ago. There were 18 of us eating here in this sala. Not quite as many as today, it was bien fun."
Trixie was beginning to get the hang of John Peter’s unique mixture of English and Spanish, both spoken with a slight accent from whatever his native language was. She was about to ask him exactly where he was from in Africa when a face in the Christmas picture jumped out at her. Why did that face look familiar?
Turning to the next page, she realized why the face had looked so familiar. Wow, what a wild coincidence! she thought, hardly hearing Lourdes say, "Esta es una amiga mia, lloré cuando ella se fue."
"John Peter, do you know who this woman is?" Trixie asked pointing to the picture of a young woman holding a three-year-old Lourdes.
"Oh yes. La Hermana Hache. She was here oh, four or five years ago. Lourdes was her little shadow. The night before she left we were all in the capilla, even Lourdes was there with her papá. No one told Lourdes that her Hermana Hache was leaving, but Lourdes sensed it. When the hermanas left, Lourdes ran crying out of the building. She ran down the street after Hermana Hache and her companion and threw herself at her. She grabbed her legs and held on and cried. Her papá had to come and take her back, screaming and crying."
It couldn’t be the woman from the airport, could it? "John Peter, what was the woman’s first name?"
John Peter scratched his head. "That is hard. I usually don’t know the first names, since we can’t call them that. Let’s see. First she was with Stout, and then Margis…Hache was really Urlboot or algo asi." With a wry grin he said, "That is why we called her Hache – her last name started with the H, but was hard to say."
"Are you talking about the hermana that worked with Carolina Martinez?" Elder Swing had been listening to the conversation for several minutes.
"Yes, she is the one. Why? That was long before your time, Swingy."
"Yeah, I know, but Carolina and the Delgado family are always talking about her. She’s back, you know."
"What? When?" John Peter didn’t know that.
"The other day. Carolina went up to Barc to meet her with some people from Cartagena. Then they all went to the conferences in Madrid. She’s going to be living here for awhile."
Hoarsely, Trixie asked, "Do you know her first name?"
"Yeah, Elizabeth."
Trixie relaxed, okay it wasn’t a coincidence, the woman she’d talked to in the airport hadn’t been named Elizabeth.
"But Carolina calls her Isabel."
Trixie laughed a little.
"What’s so funny, Trixie?" Di asked. Then answering her own question, "Wait, wasn’t that the name of the woman you were talking to in the airport?"
Trixie nodded, "Yeah, here’s a picture of her."
She explained how she had met this woman to the rest of the group. Then John Peter shared how she and her companion, Hermana Stout, had helped him write to the government of his country and obtain a copy of his birth certificate so that he could apply for a passport and maybe return to his home in Ghana someday.
Before Trixie could ask more questions about that, Emilio Mambo entered the living room and announced, "¡A comer!" With the help of Dan and John Peter the table was quickly turned sideways into the room and the couches and various chairs were arranged around the sides so that everyone would have a place to sit.
Soon everyone was seated around the table and Magdalena brought in a large pan.
"Oh, Hermana Mambo, ¡tu eres la mejor! Yo he deseado paella por toda la semana." Waxter quickly jumped up to bring in three loaves of crusty pan and a small plate of lemon wedges.
Already on the table were several liters of Fanta – lemon and orange flavored – and three large platters of green salad placed at intervals along the stretched out table. The salads looked a little different than the salads that Moms made. Peeking out of the leaves of lettuce appeared to be green olives and chunks of what looked like crabmeat. Also, there were several small plates of little crustaceans and mussels.
Trixie found herself seated between Tony and Lourdes. Across from her was Mart. Seeing her eye the little plates of seafood warily, Mart grinned. Trixie was pretty adventurous, but she had never been a huge fan of food you had to pull out of the shell. At least it wasn’t snails. Then Mart glanced at the paella and took a deep breath. He’d thought too soon. Sprinkled throughout the saffron colored rice he could see what were unmistakably snail shells. This would be interesting.
Before beginning to dish up the food, Emilio again welcomed everyone to their humble home for dinner. Then he turned to Elder Swing and asked him a question. The big fair-skinned elder turned red, but nodded in agreement.
Swallowing hard he spoke rapidly in English. "Um, Hermano Mambo asked me to bless this food, you know, say grace." He wasn’t sure about the visitors’ religious feelings and he wasn’t sure how they would react so he paused.
"That’s fine," Mart replied. "We often do that in our house."
With a sigh of relief, Swing said a short prayer in Spanish.
When he was finished, Magdalena began to dish up heaping servings of paella onto all of the plates. While she was doing that Juliana explained some Spanish table etiquette. They didn’t have to slice the bread; they just needed to tear off the size piece that they wanted. Once they had their bread, they could set it on the table next to their plate, not on their plate. And the salad was community property. You ate it directly from the serving platter, you didn’t dish it onto your plate.
For several minutes, there was no sound except chewing and the clink of silverware on china. All of the Bob-Whites had tasted paella before, Cook at Manor House had made it for them before they left for Spain, but it tasted nothing like this.
Following Tony’s lead, Trixie took a slice of lemon and squeezed it over the rice. Smiling, he told her, "It brings out the flavors more."
Trixie nodded her mouth full. It was delicious. She slid the snails into a row on the edge of her plate. Unless forced to those were not going into her stomach. Glancing around the table, she saw Honey trying to set her bread on the table, but she just couldn’t. Feeling Trixie’s eyes on her, Honey looked up and shrugged her shoulders. Trixie knew what she was thinking; to set your bread on the table at the Manor House was not an option.
"So you are a detective, too," Tony said after a few moments.
Trixie swallowed hard. How do I answer this? she thought. Once I would have wholeheartedly agreed with that and now I just don’t know. A few more seconds passed. Finally she began, "Well, I have had the tendency to get mixed up in mysterious happenings." She looked up as Mart choked on his Fanta. Serves him right for eavesdropping! she thought.
Turning back to Tony, she said, "For now I’ve kind of decided to finish school and stay out of trouble." Again, Mart made a strange noise as he gulped his soda. Opening her mouth say something to him, Trixie was interrupted by Waxter.
"Now I know why you look familiar!" he exclaimed, looking at Brian.
Brian reddened. He had a feeling of what the Southerner was about to say. While they had been playing basketball, Waxter had talked more about his time at Ricks College. He had been there the year before Brian and Jim had attended the University of Utah, but he had been in Salt Lake the weekend of Brian’s arrest. He had even been on Temple Square around the same time that things had gotten out of control. He’d also mentioned to Brian that he looked strangely familiar.
"Were you involved in some kind of drug bust in Salt Lake City about a year and a half ago? With some crazy chase/hostage type thing on Temple Square?" Waxter didn’t notice the expression on Brian’s face as he continued. "Man, that was the dangdest thing. I was there with this fly honey I’d met at Ricks the year before. We were walking toward the Tabernacle when some nut with a gun came running through and he was dragging some blond-haired chick with him…" his voice faded out as he turned to Trixie. "You were the blond-haired chick, weren’t you?"
The room was silent. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak. Finally, Jim took charge of the conversation. "As a matter of fact, yes, some of us were involved in that. Trixie was taken hostage and Brian had been kidnapped. Trixie and Honey had gathered some clues and led the police to the drug dealers, and unfortunately, things got a little out of control. But that’s all in the past now." His tone warned Waxter off of asking any more questions.
A pall fell over the room. Jim reached around Lourdes and rubbed Trixie’s shoulders. He had seen her begin to tense up the minute Waxter had mentioned the drug bust. He knew that she was reliving those horrifying moments in the Assembly Hall. Wildly he tried to think of some safe, humorous topic of conversation.
But it was Dan who came to the rescue. "Tell me, you said you’d been here only sixteen months, right?" Waxter nodded. "And you’ve become fluent in Spanish in that short amount of time?"
"Yeah. I’d never studied it before either. It took me a few months to really get comfortable with speaking and understanding complete conversations took a little longer, but now it’s easier than English most of the time."
Swing spoke up, "I took three years in high school and a semester in college, but it’s taking me awhile to get up to speed with conversations. That’s why we’re supposed to only speak Spanish to each other, except when we’re in our piso. It’s one of our rules and it helps us become able to communicate quicker."
"Oh, are we making you break some kind of rule?" Di asked, concern in her eyes.
Waxter smiled, Dang she was pretty! "No ma’am, it’s okay to speak English if we’re speaking to Americans that don’t speak Spanish. And Swing here, he has made some progress –"
"Waxter, not that story again!" Swing’s voice took on his whining tone again.
"When this boy got here he had two phrases 1) Me llamo Elder Swing; and 2) Mis pies me duelen…meaning ‘My feet hurt.’ You see we walk almost everywhere." He smirked at Swing.
Trixie glared at Waxter. Sure, Swing was kind of annoying, but Waxter was awfully rude to him. He was funny at times, but he was really starting to get on her nerves.
Mart shook his head in amazement. "I took three years of Spanish and I can hardly remember anything."
Dan laughed, "Oh yes, but you remembered two phrases well enough to get you out of trouble." All the Bob-Whites joined in the laughter and told the story of Mart’s experience in the airport with the strange man. Before they realized it, they had told the whole story of Sergio and Pablo and the backpack to their new friends.
Hans explained to the Mambos what had been going on and told Emilio that they had gone down to the Embassy that morning and discovered that the men the Americans had become involved with were all connected with ETA.
Waxter whistled when he heard that. "ETA! Those dudes are nasty. At Christmas they planted a bomb in Corte Inglés down in the centro." In an aside, he explained that Cortes was a large department type store that had everything from food to clothes and everything else in-between. There were no real malls in Spain, but they had Cortes. "Anyway, this bomb wasn’t very large, but it did plenty of damage. A mother and daughter were both badly injured by it. They didn’t think the mother was going to make it, but she did. And ETA proudly claimed responsibility."
The Bob-Whites looked around the table at each other. Nothing that they had learned today had made them any more relaxed about their vacation.
"You say your backpack was stolen in Sagunto?" Swing turned to Waxter. "Didn’t the elders there call us last night about a backpack?"
"Yeah, you’re right." Waxter scratched his head. "They found it in the park. There was nothing in it except a sewed in tag that had a New York address on it. Since an elder from New York had been transferred down here yesterday they called to see if he had some how lost it or had it stolen. Maybe it’s yours, Jim."
Characters belong to Golden/Whitman whoever, except for Pablo, Sergio, Arabe and Tony... they’re mine. Most events are remarkably similar to my own experiences in Valencia during las fallas March 1996.
Chapter Eighteen
15/16 MARZO
Piso de Hans y JulianaThe Bob-Whites had enjoyed their evening with the Mambos and their friends. Jim had gotten the phone number for the missionaries in Sagunto from Elder Waxter. Waxter said that the earliest that they should try calling was 9 PM. They found out that the missionaries had lots of rules – such as what time they had to come home and what time they had to go to bed. Normally they were to be home no earlier than 10:15, but on Sunday nights they did their weekly planning and were allowed to come home around 9. And they were to be in bed by 11 and up at 6:30, or earlier every morning. Then they had to be out of their apartments by 9:30 and not go back until 2. Their mornings were spent studying.
What really surprised all of the Bob-Whites was that no one checked on the missionaries to see that they were obeying all of the rules, they were on an honor system. And no TV or movies or music or books for two years! It seemed incredible to them. Brian remembered what his and Jim’s roommate had told them about his mission that had really surprised him. Not only did the young missionaries not get to pick where they went for their missionary service, but they also paid for it. It was a dedication that surprised him, especially from guys his own age.
When the Bob-Whites had left the Mambos’, Tony had volunteered to take them around the city the next morning to view the fallas. That night the falleros would be setting them up and putting the finishing touches on the enormous and costly creations. He was a native valenciano and knew where the best fallas were usually situated. Juliana had gladly taken him up on his offer and told him to come over around seven the next morning for breakfast.
They had been home for several hours now. Trixie rolled over and looked at the luminous dial of her watch, 11:53. She couldn’t sleep. She hated this insomnia that hit her every once in awhile. She just had too much on her mind. And she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that this whole backpack thing was not over.
Jim had called the missionaries in Sagunto several times that evening. Finally, he had gotten a hold of them around 11 o’clock. The elder that he spoke to described the pack and it sounded like Jim’s and the clincher was the address, it was Jim’s address at school.
Since the Bob-Whites already had plans for Monday and had actually been thinking about going to Sagunto on Tuesday, he arranged to meet the elders at the train station in Sagunto around eight Tuesday morning. That worked fine for the elders because they had to catch the 8:15 train to Castellón Tuesday morning anyway.
Quietly Trixie slipped out of her bunk and tip-toed out of the bedroom. She had decided to go out to the balcony. Jim wasn’t sleeping there after all. The night before he had been kept awake for over an hour by the fireworks of the falleros so he had decided to sleep on the floor in Hans’ den. It wouldn’t be all that comfortable, but at least he would sleep.
Jim shifted uncomfortably on the hard floor. Even with several blankets, it was still a hard floor. He looked at the digital clock on Hans’ desk, 12:01. Pretty soon the fireworks would begin. I’m awake, I may as well go watch them. Juliana said that they shouldn’t last as long tonight ‘cause everyone is busy putting the things together. After it’s over, maybe I’ll just stay out on the balcony and sleep.
Quietly so as not to disturb Mart, he picked up his blankets and walked down the hall past the sleeping forms of Dan and Brian. He smiled to himself as he recognized Brian’s snore. Their first week at the U of U Jim had been amazed at the volume of Brian’s snoring. He had never noticed it before. Brian had denied that he snored, so one night Jim had taken his mini-recorder into Brian’s room and taped him snoring for a good fifteen minutes. He wondered what had happened to that tape – it was time for Brian to sit and listen to it again.
Noiselessly he opened the balcony door and stepped out into the cool night air. He saw at the far end of the balcony a small figure curled up in a chair, head down. Trixie. Should he go back inside? Or should he say something to her? Or should he just sit out there quietly?
Trixie heard the sound of a bare foot on the tile of the balcony floor. She peered through the curls that hung over her face. It was dark, but she would recognize that form anywhere, Jim. Did she want him to come out? Should she ignore him? She wasn’t quite ready to talk to him yet, but there was really no one else that she felt she could talk to.
Jim set down the blankets and went to lean against the balcony railing and stare down at the street below. It was after midnight and still there were so many people milling around in the streets. And people thought New York City was a city that never slept! Valencia seemed to be a worthy rival for that title.
"Couldn’t sleep either," a soft voice broke the stillness.
"Nope, the floor is a little hard."
Trixie chuckled, "You’ve gotten soft in your old age, James Winthrop Frayne the Second…a few years ago you were sleeping on floors all over the place."
He grinned in the darkness; "I wasn’t always on the floor. I slept on a mattress stuffed with thousands of dollars."
"That’s right. Maybe Juliana has one of those hidden away somewhere." They both laughed. Trixie felt the tension that had been building up the last few days start to slip away.
"That was fun tonight, wasn’t it?" she asked.
"Yeah, it was. That Waxter is quite a character. Him and his fly honeys."
"No kidding. Swing is kinda’ unique too. Man, I’m glad Bobby seems to have outgrown his whining."
"Trix, did you hear the story about John Peter?"
"No, every time I would try to ask, Waxter would interrupt." She frowned at the memory.
"He told us about it while we were pretending to play basketball. About fifteen years ago John Peter left Ghana for some reason. No one has figured out what the reason was. Somehow he got into this country, and he always pretends he doesn’t understand when people start pressing him on the details. I guess he entered through Portugal. He stowed away on some boat. Eventually he made his way across the peninsula to Valencia. About five years ago some of the hermanas met him in the park and brought him to a dinner at their church. The church members have kind of adopted him since then."
"He doesn’t have any family?"
"Waxter said that he has some siblings in Ghana. Shortly after he started going to the Church, a couple of the hermanas with one of the members helped him write a letter to the government of Ghana to get a copy of his birth certificate. He can’t get a passport without a birth certificate. Without a passport, he can’t get residency papers. Without either of those he can’t leave the country and he can’t get a job."
"Wow. So what does he do?"
"He lives on the beach in the summer and in the winter he lives in the park – until the police catch up with him. Then he gets tossed in jail and someone from the church goes and bails him out."
"Why doesn’t he live with one of them?"
"He’s tried it, but he doesn’t like to be inside all the time. He’s lived with the Mambos several different times. And get this, he’s a teacher."
"What?"
"Yeah, he taught in some private school in Ghana, that’s why his English is so good."
Trixie was silent as she thought about the story Jim had just told her. To think about someone else’s problems helped her take her mind off of her own problems. "I wonder why he left like that?"
"Waxter thinks he killed someone or something."
Trixie laughed. "He doesn’t seem like the killing type of person."
"I agree. Ghana has had some civil war problems. It probably had something to do with that – maybe he’s a political refugee."
They both fell silent again.
"Wondering about the history of a homeless man you had never met before today isn’t what brought you out here, is it?" Jim asked.
"No." She didn’t know what else to say.
Instead of pressing her to talk, Jim began to hum. He didn’t even realize what he was humming until Trixie began to quietly sing.
"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it look as though they're here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday."With an almost bitter laugh she said, "I think that I have to agree with Lennon and McCartney on that one."
Surprised, Jim said, "Sorry, don’t know why I started humming that."
"Probably for the same reason it’s been running through my head all evening. There was a Beatles CD playing at the Mambos. In Spanish, of course, but I recognized the songs."
"That must be it." He sensed more than heard her come and stand next to him at the railing.
"Don’t you wish sometimes that we could go back to "yesterday" Jim? When we were younger things seemed so tough, but really those were the best times."
"I don’t know, Trix. It’s like I was telling you the other morning, we learn from all of our troubles and problems just as much, if not more, than we do from the good times. Sure yesterday looks better than today…we survived whatever it brought to us and we don’t always know the outcome of today."
Trixie nodded. "See, that’s what I mean."
"But Trix, you didn’t want to stay fourteen forever, did you? Think of all that has happened since then – it hasn’t all been bad, I hope."
"No, that’s not it…oh, heck, I don’t know." She pulled a leaf of the jasmine bush that was growing in a large clay pot and threw it toward the ground. "Sometimes I think I get so hung up on today and wish it was yesterday that I don’t even want to know what tomorrow could bring."
Jim sighed, he didn’t want Trixie to think that he was lecturing her, but he wanted to get her out of this negative way of thinking. "Trixie, if we just kept reliving the yesterdays out of fear for the tomorrows we’d never get anywhere. What would the point of dreams be then? I sure don’t want to give up any of mine."
Trixie was quiet for several minutes. Jim was afraid that he had made her angry again. But he wasn’t going to push her; he’d promised her that he would let her tell him in her own time.
"What’s the point of dreams Jim?" her voice taking on the tone of a person that has lived a long and hard life.
"Dreams give us something to work for and strive for. They give us hope."
"What if…what if you promise to give up your dream for someone else’s sake." There, it was out. Now if Jim would only understand what she meant by that.
The wheels began to turn and Jim realized that this must be what Honey had written Brian about. If he was right, this could explain a lot. "No one should ever ask you to give up your dreams, Trix, it’s not right."
"No? What if you give it up willingly and the other person doesn’t know anything about it, but everything turns out right for them in the end 'cause you made a deal and so now you can’t go back on your deal or follow your dream 'cause then maybe things would undo themselves?" She gasped for breath. She knew that was one long sentence, but she had to get it all out before she chickened out.
He was right. Now, how could he explain to her that deals weren’t what saved Brian? "Trix, did this deal have anything to do with giving up mysteries if Brian would be okay?"
"How did you know?" He understood what a relief.
"Trixie, I know you and, believe it or not, in the past four years I’ve learned how to follow your thought patterns pretty well."
For the first time since she had joined him at the railing, she touched him. He looked down and saw her staring at him, pleading with her eyes that he understand and not make fun of her or get angry.
He covered her hand with his and stroked it, hoping to convey to her his trust and how much he cared for her.
"Jim, when we were at the Square waiting for Chris to bring Brian, I promised that I would never search out another mystery as long as he was okay."
"Trixie, you never really search out mysteries."
"Search them out, get involved in them, whatever. But Jim, I promised God. I’m not that religious, you know that. Nothing like those people that we met today. I don’t think I could ever give up two years of my life to go to a foreign country and get doors slammed in my face and spit on and all that. But when you promise God something, you don’t go back on it."
He understood somewhat more of her fear now. He wasn’t overly religious either, but still.
"So Trix, you’re concerned now because we’ve gotten involved in a mystery and you’re afraid that if you get too interested in it, then something will happen to Brian-- he’ll go back to drugs or something?"
When Jim put it like that, it sounded almost silly, but that is what she had been thinking. "Yes," she whispered.
"Sweetheart," neither of them noticed what he called her, "it doesn’t work like that. It is wonderful that you willingly decided to give up that which meant the most to you in an effort to help your brother, but I think that willing desire is all that anyone, even God, would ask you to do. And Brian is not going to get messed up with drugs again, I can assure you of that."
"So do you think it is okay to be involved in this mystery?" She wasn’t sure if she was getting what he was saying.
"Well, I don’t know if I would go that far. I wish we hadn’t gotten involved with international terrorists. But I don’t think that you need to feel that just because you show an interest in hunting down clues again means that Brian is going to succumb to drugs again."
"I guess it was all kind of silly." She could feel herself blushing.
"No, it wasn’t silly. That is probably the biggest sacrifice that you could ever make for someone. I don’t know if I could do something like that…give up my dream for my school for someone."
"You would Jim, you're so honorable and everything. If it would help someone else, you would do anything."
He hoped she was right. But he hoped that he would never have to find out.
He realized that she was shaking. "Are you cold?" For the first time, he realized that she was only wearing an old T-shirt of one of her brothers and flannel pajama bottoms.
"Just a bit."
Jim picked up one of the blankets he had brought out and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Is that better?" He didn’t pull his arms away.
She relaxed against him. "Yeah, much."
She looked up at him. She was surprised to see that he was staring down at her. She’d never seen that expression on his face before. Oh my gosh! He’s going to kiss me.
Jim lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against hers.
Simultaneously two other things happened, the first firework exploded across the night sky and Mart stepped out on to the balcony asking, "Are the fireworks starting yet?"
Trixie pulled back quickly. "Yeah, big brother, I believe that they are."
She smiled at Jim and touched his cheek lightly. Then she went back inside. She didn’t need to watch anymore fireworks.
Chapter Nineteen
16 marzo
(That’s how they write the date here)Dear Bobby,
Hey there, little brother! Do you miss me? Like I promised, here’s your letter. We’ll probably get home before you get this, especially if the mail system is really as bad as Juliana was telling us. But, you can’t say I didn’t try. How’s life at Crabapple Farm? Spain is different – but a cool kind of different. As usual we’ve had some adventures – guess we haven’t quite outgrown them like Moms and Dad have hoped. Nothing too serious of course. Jim’s backpack was stolen on the train between Barcelona and Valencia, but some Americans found it and we’re going to get it back tomorrow when we go explore the ruins of a castle. That’s in a town about thirty minutes away – a place called Sagunto. Don’t worry, I’ll take pictures.
Well, I promised you I would write you a letter and now I’m at a loss of what to write…….. (Those dots are my thinking moments)…..
Juliana and Hans don’t look much different than they did three years ago. And Betje, their little girl, is adorable! We’re kind of cramped in their little apartment, but it’s fun. Last night we had dinner with some of their friends, an African family. There were also a couple of Americans there – missionaries. They were both clowns, but I admire them for their dedication to their beliefs. It would take too long to write you about the Mambos and our time with them, so you’ll just have to remind me to tell you all about them.
This morning we went and saw the ‘planta’ of the ‘fallas’ all around the city. Tony, a friend of the two missionaries, took us around. He’s a native ‘valenciano’ so he knew where all the best ‘fallas’ would be. These things are HUGE!!
Now, you’re probably asking yourself, "What the heck is Trixie talking about?!" So I’ll explain…
Fallas is a huge fiesta. Tony said that it is the second largest party in the world, second only to Carnival in Rio de Janeiro (but that could just be a Spanish pride thing too). Actually people from all over the world come to witness this celebration – I guess we’re all pretty good examples of that. There are several hundred groups of people in the city that plan and build these huge – things – I can’t think of a better word for them. They’re kind of like statues. And they’re kind of like parade floats, but they don’t move. That’s what the ‘planta’ thing is…they plant them, or I should say erect them in the street or plazas all over the city. They are built out of paper and wood and then they paint them. There was a cool one of all the Beatles (tell me you remember who they are – I know Mart covered them in his music history lesson he was giving you a while back) with some other historical musicians. I took several pictures of it. They also have small ones (the big ones can be 18 meters tall – that’s over 50 feet!) that are supposed to be kind of for little kids. They’re supposed to be silly and happy, but some of them are still kind of dark. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The big ‘fallas’ are designed to make fun of stuff in the news – like the government, people not having jobs, pesticides making the fruit grown in the area bad and stuff like that. One of the small ones looked really cute from a distance – a bunch of Disney characters; you know Huey, Dewey and Louie and Mowgli from Jungle Book and Jiminy Cricket. But when you got closer you could see that Huey, Dewey and Louie were holding machine guns and hand grenades and switchblades…and the Cricket had a movie camera. It was making a statement about the violence in kids’ shows. Pretty interesting. I think I took two or three rolls of film just of all the ‘fallas’. Tony laughed at us all. The thing is, to him this is just a normal holiday, like the Fourth of July for us, but none of us will probably ever have a chance to experience this again.
Now, for a brief history lesson explaining the whole point of ‘fallas’ – it’s interesting and you like stuff like this so pay attention!
The ‘valencianos’ have been celebrating ‘fallas’ for more than 300 years. That’s longer than the U.S. has been an organized country! The big celebration happens on March 19th – St. Joseph’s day. (This is actually the day they celebrate Father’s Day here) All the carpenters would burn their lamp holders and stuff like that, because the days were getting longer – it was their way of celebrating the beginning of spring. Now they burn the ‘fallas’ that they have worked on all year long that cost millions of pesetas. From what Tony said, they start by burning the smaller ‘fallas’ (ninots) at ten o’clock and the larger ones around midnight. And fireworks and music accompany all of this. Actually, those two things are going on constantly! I’m sitting out on the balcony of Juliana’s apartment that overlooks the street. In the time that I’ve been sitting here writing, two bands have marched by accompanied by their ‘falleras’ and ‘falleros’ – those are men and women, boys and girls (even little toddlers) dressed up in the traditional costumes of ‘las fallas’. I can’t even begin to describe them, once again, you’ll just have to wait and see the pictures. The girls are all in these huge dresses covered in lace (glad I don’t have to wear one) and they have their hair braided and twisted in coils. Tony’s sisters are ‘falleras’ and he said that they leave them that way for the whole week because it is so difficult to do them every day. The dresses cost thousands of dollars and are passed down generation to generation.
This morning Tony convinced us to not eat breakfast here, but to go to a ‘chocolatería’. Mart was against the idea, because as usual, he was starving, but the rest of us out-voted him. So, after we had walked around the city and seen all the ‘fallas’ (well, there are over 370 so we probably didn’t see all of them but it sure felt like it) we went to the Santa Catalina. It’s a restaurant type place in the Plaza de Santa Catalina, right near the cathedral. It was really cool, reminded me of some of the places in England that we went to. There Tony treated us to ‘la chocolatà’ which is the typical breakfast during ‘fallas’. The closest thing we have to it at home is doughnuts and hot chocolate, but that still isn’t very close. The chocolate is so thick that you could eat it with a spoon and the doughnuts, ‘buñuelos’ have no hole and you dip them in the chocolate. Probably not the most nutritious meal we’ve ever eaten, but definitely delicious!
In about twenty minutes, we’re going to go back to the city center for the ‘Mascletà’. I don’t know what the point of this is and I haven’t figured out what the word means yet, but I guess they just set off a ton of fireworks in the town square. Why they do it in the middle of the afternoon I haven’t figured out yet. It doesn’t start until 2, but we’re going over early for two reasons: 1) so that we will find places to stand and 2) to eat at Burger King. Mart is already going into hamburger withdrawals and when he saw not one but TWO Burger Kings (they’re across the plaza from each other, diagonally) he decided that we had to have lunch there. I wonder if it will taste the same as the Burger Kings back home?
And after all that, Hans is going to meet up with us and take us to buy tickets for the bullfight on Wednesday and then go to the ‘falla’ museum. They don’t burn all the ‘fallas’. The different ‘falla’ groups vote on the best ‘falla’ and a small part of the huge figure is saved and placed in this museum.
Jim just came out to tell me that everyone is about ready to go, so I’ll end this letter and see if I can find a mailbox to drop it in on our way out. Be good and take care of Moms, Dad and Reddy for me and don’t forget to feed the chickens!
Love your big sister,
Trixie
* * *
"What are you up to out here, Trix?" Jim asked, smiling down at her.
"Just finishing up a letter to Bobby. I promised him that I would write him a letter so that he could get mail with a foreign stamp on it." She smiled back at him.
After the fireworks last night, both across the night sky of Valencia and those inside her, Trixie had had a difficult time getting to sleep. She had been a little nervous to see him in the morning, and she had to admit she was worried about what Mart might say to her. However, when she had awoken it felt as if a huge weight had been removed from her. While Di had been showering, she had talked with Honey about her midnight conversation with Jim. Honey had restrained herself from telling Trixie that that was what she had been trying to tell her for over a year. She had been thrilled to see the overnight change in Trixie. It had been hard for her to not tell anyone the real reason why she and Trixie were no longer trying to find mysteries to get involved in. While Trixie was showering, Honey had found Brian and quickly filled him in; finally giving him the answer to the question she had avoided for months in his letters.
This was the first time Trixie had been alone with Jim since Mart had interrupted them at midnight. They had rushed around so much that morning that she hadn’t had a chance to feel self-conscious around him. And Mart hadn’t said a word, so he must not have seen anything. Jim had held her hand most of the morning as they had toured the beautiful old city and inspected the ‘fallas’ – some beautiful and detailed, others garish and abstract, but all with a special charm. She thrilled at this, but most of the time she spent taking in Tony’s every word about the history of ‘las fallas’ and the city of Valencia. She still found it hard to believe the story of Valencia being saved by a bat – both Honey and Di had shuddered at hearing that story; all Honey could think of was the bats that had filled Bob-White Cave in the Ozarks. To Trixie, it was all fascinating. The more she saw of Valencia, the more she felt at home. The strange pull that she had felt when talking with Isabel in the airport was back and stronger.
"Trix? Are you even listening?" Jim’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Oh, I’m sorry Jim," she answered contritely, "I was just thinking about all the stuff that we saw this morning. Fascinating, wasn’t it? And the history of this place! Their new buildings are older than any of the buildings in Sleepyside."
Jim grinned at her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Trix, it is so good to see you totally happy again. For so long there has always been a part of you that was troubled and sad about something."
"I know. I’m still not completely at peace with all that has happened in the last couple of years, but I feel better than I have in a long time."
"Ready for more fireworks?" Jim asked as he released her.
"What?" Trixie looked at him in surprise.
"Mascletà – you know what we’re on our way to see." Suddenly understanding what she meant, he pulled her back toward him, "Unless you’re talking about what your brother…"
Before he could complete his sentence, Mart came out onto the balcony saying, "Okay guys, time to go. Chocolate and doughnuts was fine for awhile, but I’m seriously in need of a Whopper and fries." He grinned as he saw his sister once again in the arms of Jim Frayne. "Maybe I need to start knocking before I come out here."
Blushing furiously Jim tried to respond, but couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t come out sounding stupid.
"Yeah, Mart, maybe you should," Trixie said squeezing past him to enter the living room, hoping that her own red cheeks could be blamed on the sun that was shining brightly onto the balcony.
Finally, Jim was able to speak, "Martin Belden, you have impeccable timing!"
Mart just laughed as he followed Jim into the apartment. He was happy for Trixie and Jim. And since Jim seemed to be the only one that could ever talk sense into his sister and get her to start acting like herself again, he wasn’t even going to tease them…at least not yet.
Chapter Twenty
16 Marzo
1400 horas
La Plaza de Ayuntamiento
Valencia
¡Mascletà!"This is insane!" Dan grumbled to Mart.
"What?!" Mart screamed back. "Your lips are moving but I can’t hear a word!"
"INSANE! THIS IS INSANE!" Dan shook his head in frustration, or at least tried to. He was closed in on all sides by people and could barely breathe, much less move. He’d been to Times Square on New Year’s Eve a few times when he had lived in New York City and that had never been as crowded and crazy.
Mart grinned at Dan’s expression. He wasn’t thrilled about being jammed into such a small place with thousands of other people, just to listen to fireworks and inhale the smoke, but it was definitely an experience none of them would forget for a long time. Turning his head slightly to his left, Mart hollered to Di, "How are you doing? Can you see anything?"
With a slight laugh, Diana responded, "What is there to see besides smoke? And people making out?"
Mart laughed at that. It was true. Right in front of them was a couple, and not such a young couple at that, who were all over each other. They didn’t even seem to realize where they were. He figured that if a firework went of right next to them, they still wouldn’t come up for air. Quickly he averted his eyes as the man’s hand slid down inside the mini skirt of the girl in his arms. He had heard that Europeans were a lot more public in their affection, but he didn’t see how they could even concentrate on what they were doing with all the people and all the noise surrounding them.
"Dan, relax, it’s not all that bad," Honey said, glancing at the brooding look on Dan’s face. "Just think of it as a cultural experience."
He couldn’t help but smile at Honey’s rationalization. "It’s not really the mascletà that’s driving me crazy," he said, "It’s just being crammed so close to all these people."
"Yeah, these people that don’t bathe daily and have never heard of deodorant," Honey added. "I still wish I understood why they set off all these fireworks in broad daylight. It would be beautiful if they set it off at night."
‘Yeah, when we were all home, safe and not here being deafened by it.’ Dan thought ruefully. "I wonder what the "tradition" behind this is too. Tony couldn’t seem to explain it."
But there was no response from Honey, she had turned to Brian to hear what he was saying. Dan sighed inwardly. He hated this fifth wheel, or in the case of the Bob-Whites - seventh wheel, feeling that he got sometimes. He knew his friends cared about him, but sometimes caring just wasn’t enough. When he’d arrived on the scene three years ago they were all paired off so nicely. He’d been attracted to Honey the moment he met her. She was beautiful inside and out and was the one who had shown him friendship first. Trixie had infuriated him, but once he got to know her, he admired her and her tenacity. But both of them had been so head-over-heels infatuated with Brian and Jim, that he hadn’t even tried. As for Di, they were friends and had discussed at times how they sometimes felt left out by the other five, but she had Mart. No matter how he looked at it, he always felt like he was beneath the other Bob-Whites. Like Jim, he had one living relative, but he didn’t have an inheritance and he had been in trouble with the law.
Dan looked again at Honey and the beauty that she radiated. He’d never have a chance with her. When she and Brian had mutually broken up before Brian left for college, he had some hope. But he never acted on any of his feelings. She was the daughter and granddaughter of millionaires and he was a penniless juvenile delinquent orphan who worked for her father.
However, his feelings of aloneness were not what was bothering him during the fireworks, it was a feeling of vulnerability for the whole group. Juliana had told them to hold on to each other so that they wouldn’t become separated in the crowds. Dan just couldn’t get out of his mind the thought that this was the perfect opportunity for a pickpocket to strike. You’d never notice if someone was reaching into your pocket or your purse with all the jostling that went along with the amount of people standing around. He didn’t think that they had seen the end of Sergio and his cohorts.
"I followed them out of Burger King," Pedro said into his cell phone. "Now we’re in la Plaza de Ayuntamiento – at the end by the train station."
He listened carefully to what Arabe said.
"Yes, I know that I won’t be able to get away quickly. That’s why I have to wait for just the right moment. That will be when everyone begins to leave and they move toward the exit streets from the plaza."
Again, he was quiet as he listened, never once taking his eyes from the area where his prey was grouped.
"The noise? It is la mascletà, I’ve told you many times what that was. I don’t know why the valencianos insist on setting of fireworks in the middle of the day – the further south you go the more crazy the people are." Pedro smiled softly; he was glad that he identified with the north, with Catalunya, not Valencia or Andulucia. "They haven’t ever seen me, so even if they do they won’t connect me with Sergio or you."
His face hardened as he listened to what followed.
"I do not think that they will see a resemblance between my brother and myself. Would they be so observant? And the resemblance is not that great. I must go now. I will meet you at the las ruinas after dark."
As he returned the phone to his pocket, Pedro began to slowly edge his way toward the area where the Americans were standing. He had been following them all morning. He had observed only one backpack that day. The blond man had had it in his possession that morning. Almost he had had it twice that morning, but both times something had interfered. In the end, he decided that it would be wisest to wait until la mascletà when there would be so many people the chances of them catching him would be impossible. His twisted smile returned as he noted that the pretty girl, the one with hair the color of miel, was wearing the pack now. Even better.Trixie strained to see above the heads of the people surrounding her, but it was no use. She just wasn’t tall enough to see what was going on. All she was able to catch was the sight of clouds of smoke and the acrid odor of gunpowder in the breeze.
"It is difficult to see, no?" Tony asked.
"Yes. I wish that I were as tall as the guys, or even Honey and Di," she said with a slight frown.
"I understand. My brothers, all younger, are much taller than I am. And so is one of my sisters. Then to be around Americans, it is hard." Tony mirrored her frown.
Trixie hadn’t thought about it before, but Tony was only a couple of inches taller than she was. She also hadn’t noticed his eyes before. The way they had been shoved and pushed by the crowd had caused them to face each other. She now found herself staring into his eyes. She had thought that they were brown, like many of the Spaniards, to go with his slightly olive complexion and his dark brown hair. Now she could see that his eyes had flecks of green in them and his hair was much lighter than Dan’s or even Brian’s. ‘He’s really cute.’ she started to think, and then quickly changed her thoughts, ‘but I like Jim. I’ve always liked Jim and he’s holding my hand right now and he kissed me last night…’ "Uh, sorry, what was that Tony?"
"I said, you aren’t missing much. It is really just the smoke that you can see. A veces…at times you can see a little of the colors, but only when the smoke is thick enough. Probably, down here, we get less of the smell. The tall people get it all first."
Trixie giggled at the thought. "So Jim is our air filter?"
Hearing his name, Jim took his eyes from the sky to see if Trixie needed something. She shook her head no and he turned back to try and see the fireworks.
"It sounds like bombs or something going off," she said to Tony.
"No, bombs are much worse and they shake the ground more than this," was the matter of fact reply.
"You have a lot of experience with bombs?" Trixie asked, raising her eyebrow in surprise.
"Some." Tony wasn’t sure how much more he should tell her. Then remembering some of the experiences that she and her friends had shared with him the night before and at breakfast that morning, he decided to let her in on his secret. Leaning closer to her ear he continued, "In the mili, I was sent to Bosnia. It wasn’t fun, but I learned some about the bombs and how they are. When I finished my service, I was sent to France to study more. They said I have a," he paused trying to find the word, "a talent with bombs and other things."
Trixie looked at him in surprise, ‘Could he be involved in the things that had been going on with us since we had arrived? Is he mixed up with Sergio somehow? But he said he was going to study at Scotland Yard!’
"No, I’m not a terrorist," he answered the unspoken question. "I am like, oh, what is that American show…the secret agents." He closed his eyes in concentration.
Visibly relaxing, Trixie tried to help, "X-Files…FBI…Scully and Mulder…" She didn’t think that Spain had a FBI.
"No, not that one. It’s older, I think. A woman meets a man in a train station and has to find the one with a red hat…He’s called the Wizard or something…"
The light bulb came on in Trixie’s mind, "Oh, Scarecrow and Mrs. King. My mom watched that a lot. I watched it on reruns."
"Yes, that’s it. Scarecrow…Wizard…I knew it was one from the city over the rainbow. Anyway, I am like the Scarecrow…a government agent."
Trixie was silent for a moment, "A spy? But you are so young!"
"Don’t say that word too loud. Most people recognize it in English and it does cause problems." He smiled at Trixie with his perfect white teeth which amazed her even more after having seen so many Spaniards with crooked, discolored teeth in their tour of Valencia that morning. "As for being young. That helps and I’m not as young as I look – I’m 23 years old. And to answer your next question – no, I’m not here on any kind of case. I’m on vacation and home to spend time with my family. But that doesn’t keep me from being interested in what you have become involved in."
"And the Scotland Yard thing? What is that? Do those missionaries know what you really do?"
"No, they don’t know what I really do. I am going to be going to England to study some at Scotland Yard – but actually that is where I’m assigned right now. And I do want to improve the English. It will help if I am able to speak with less of an accent."
"You’re going to do this for your career? What does your family think?" Trixie knew how her earlier desires to be a detective had affected her family, she wanted to know what his thought about him being a spy.
"I think that I will eventually just work as a detective – when I have a wife, you know, it will be easier. And my family, well, it is what my dad did and my grandfather too. They are very understanding about it."
Jim didn’t know about this long involved conversation Trixie and Tony were having. The twinges of jealousy were starting to hit deeper. ‘Jeez Frayne, you’d think she was going out on a date with him. They’re just talking. Calm down. Remember what you promised her – no more jumping down her throat about things.’
Suddenly the air was filled with a volley of shots that seemed to last for hours, but was in reality just a couple of minutes. That silence that followed was a shock to the senses for a moment, then the thousands of people began speaking and trying to move out of the plaza.
"That’s the end guys," Hans said, speaking loudly so that the group could hear him. "Let’s head to the right – towards the train station."
They began the slow, crowded exodus toward the "freedom" of the street. They had almost reached the main thoroughfare when Honey stumbled. "Brian, you don’t need to push. I can’t go any faster." She looked back angrily.
"I’m next to you Honey, not behind. And I wouldn’t push you anyway. If you were to fall here you could get trampled."
"But someone pushed me." Reaching back to rub her shoulder, she suddenly brought her hand to her face in horror. "The backpack! Brian, someone grabbed the backpack!"
Trixie heard Honey yell, just as a man shoved past her and Jim. ‘That’s odd. Why would someone want to go back to the plaza now?’ Then she saw that in the man’s hand was the backpack Honey had been wearing.
Trixie turned to go after him, but Jim hung on to her arm. "Trixie, you’ll never catch him!"
Before she could respond, Tony exclaimed, "I know that man! Wait at the station!"
Tony shoved back into the crowd, yelling loudly in Spanish as he pursued Pedro.
Pedro glanced back and almost tripped. No, it couldn’t be! But it was. Contreras, the man he had been stationed with in Mallorca and then later they had met up in France. By that time, they were working for the opposite sides of the law and Contreras had almost put him away once. How did those Americans become involved with someone like him? Unless they had discovered the disc and they had set a trap!
As I wrote this I began to dream of buñuelos y chocolate caliente…The letter is a combination of my journal entry and my letter home to my parents and sisters. Thought I’d try something different for a change. As for the couple making out during the mascletà – really saw that. And we were all crammed so close together that it was kind of disgusting.
Some Notes: The Mambos are a real family and the facts about them are true (though they might have 7 kids by now.) Waxter and Swing are based on two guys that I knew over there…I served almost five months with W. and 9 with S. too many with either of them…but they are silly characters and I had to include them…Tony is based loosely on a friend of mine from Madrid – I served with him for several months also…John Peter is also a real person, and an incredibly interesting man…I wish I knew what had happened to him since I left Valencia three years ago. I wanted to bring Lourdes home with me – she was adorable. Christmas in the Mambo home was wild; one of my best memories – even though my seat for dinner was the armrest of a couch. The bomb in El Corte Inglés was real; I’d walked by the building a couple hours before it happened. I heard about it later from friends who were in the area when it went off. I don’t remember all the facts and didn’t write it in my journal, but I believe someone was actually killed by the bomb. And Tony won’t be entirely forgotten.