The kid passed a grocery store and then darted into a narrow alley between buildings. I dipped into the same alley a couple of seconds later, nearly turning my ankle trying to keep my balance. I noticed a tall chain-link fence blocking the alley about twenty feet in front of the boy. Did I have him trapped? The boy paused for only a moment, looking left and right, probably for another escape route through a back door or something. I was within ten feet now. Not finding an alternative escape route to his liking, the kid raced forward again toward the chain-link fence. Arriving, he jumped up onto it, grabbed high with his fingers, and began climbing. I had to get to him before he scaled the top, or it was probably over. I jumped up toward the fence, reached up with my right hand, and snagged his pants leg. He tried to kick loose, but I was much stronger. I easily pulled him back down to the ground.
The boy cowered, put his hands up, afraid.
“Take it easy,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
But he clearly didn’t understand. I pointed to his earbuds, and he took them out.
“Habla inglés?” I asked.
The kid shook his head. I pulled out my phone. I had downloaded a foreign-language app while on the plane that performed verbal translations. Starting the app, I spoke into it. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need information. Okay?”
The app translated it into Spanish. The kid nodded at me.
“Why did you run?” I asked him through the app.
The kid answered in Spanish, but the app translated to English. “I was afraid. I didn’t know why you were following me.”
I pulled up a photo of Joe, showed it to the kid. His eyes kind of flashed. Was that a good sign? I then used the app again.
“Do you recognize this man?” I asked.
The kid was hesitant at first to answer. I tried to make it easier for him. From my pocket, I pulled out my wad of cash and held up two twenty-dollar bills. Then I repeated the question. The kid nodded. My heart started racing. This was real. Joe was not the man in the body bag at the scene of the burned minivan. Up to this point, I had been mostly operating on hope. Still, I had to stay focused. I gave the boy the money. He seemed confused but shoved the money into his jeans pocket anyway.
“Where is he?” I asked. “Where did you see him?”
The teenager seemed more open now. “I work over in a warehouse nearby. Loading and unloading and some cleaning. The old man in the photo is locked up in a back room. He’s in bad shape. I’ve had to clean up after him a few times.”
With every word of confirmation about Joe being alive, my heart beat a little faster. “Did he use your phone yesterday to send a text?”
The app translated. The boy nodded.
“Why did you let him do that?” I asked.
The boy answered. “We were alone for a few minutes while I cleaned in his room. He offered me one hundred American dollars for just a few seconds with my phone. We almost got busted.”
“By who?”
“Guards with guns. There are always two of them outside.”
“Where did the man get the money to pay you?”
The boy pointed at his feet, said, “Zapato.”
I didn’t need the app to translate that. It made sense to me. Joe had always kept extra cash beneath the insoles of his running shoes. There had been numerous times we’d been out on long runs around the downtown trail when Joe would suddenly stop, pull off a running shoe, and give money to a struggling homeless man. He carried the cash with him for that very reason. I remembered now that he was wearing his running shoes when he was abducted.
I asked the most important question next. “Is he still alive?”
The boy responded, “He was alive when I left last night.”
I felt a new jolt of hope push through my whole body. Joe was still alive. It was hard to believe after everything I’d been through this past week while thinking he was dead. But I had to get to him.
I spoke into the app. “Will you show me?”
The kid vigorously shook his head. So I held up the rest of my wad of cash. Almost $500. Everything I had.
“Por favor,” I begged.
The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of so much money.
“Just take me to the warehouse, and that’s all,” I added.
This time, the boy nodded.
FORTY-TWO
We hurried six blocks over to a warehouse center surrounded by apartments and office buildings. Everything felt crammed together here in Mexico City. I stayed very close to the boy out of concern he might make a run for it again, although I doubted he would bolt until he had his hands on the rest of my cash. We stopped at a quiet corner across from the complex. This street was off the main path, so the sidewalk traffic had thinned out. A sign on the building indicated it belonged to Grande Distributors, just as I’d suspected. The warehouse was enclosed by a chain-link fence with sharp wire at the top. Two men wearing military gear with assault rifles stood at a gated checkpoint for entering and exiting vehicles. I figured this was normal around here. Crime was off the charts in this massive city. I looked over toward the actual warehouse building, which was about the size of my local Home Depot. Ten oversize garage-style doors were currently open with dozens of workers loading and unloading a stable of cargo trucks.