"That must have been terrible. And that's what drove you to, as you say, 'help good people and punish those who do them harm.’"
Hatch nodded. "So now you know my story. What about yours?" Ayala adjusted himself in his seat and looked at the speedometer as if doing a time distance equation to gauge if he had enough time to tell the story. He cleared his throat and began. "Five years ago, I was embedded doing a journalistic piece on a Mexican special forces unit like your Navy SEALS. Unlike your military, who only operates abroad, ours takes direct action within our country. And with the cartels running amuck, our military are fighting a daily battle waged on the city streets and country hillsides of my beautiful Mexico. I followed them on raids and was writing a piece documenting all the efforts on the war being waged against the cartels."
"I accompanied them on one raid on a particular morning. They said it shouldn't be too dangerous, and that I could come along if I wanted an opportunity to be with the team when they entered. In the back of the group, of course. Not that I'd want to be anywhere else, even if they offered. The back was plenty fine for me.
“Getting a firsthand account of how they operate was a rare and unique opportunity. And I seized it, if not a bit reluctantly. The target of the investigation was a low-level drug dealer in the Fuentes cartel's distribution chain, just above your common street pusher. He had no record of violence, which for a drug dealer in Mexico wasn't common, which is the main reason I was authorized to attend the raid. He was deemed a minimal risk operation. The unit commander was interested in getting the story of his specialized unit told. He felt it would assist his psychological campaign, helping him strike fear into the enemy. The commander was an enthusiastic man and one whose passion and pride for his unit was unequaled. It became a perfect storm of sorts. And though I didn't know it at the time, I was in the eye of a hurricane. And one I fear still has me spinning.
“I was partnered with a strong young operator by the name of Arturo Sanchez. They assigned him to be my shadow to protect me throughout the execution of the raid. He was not very happy with his assignment, to say the least.
“Sanchez was one of their top men. But the unit commander wanted their best with me to ensure my safety."
"Makes sense."
"Sanchez and I were in the back of an eleven-man line of heavily armed men. They used flash bangs and other devices to break into the house and surprise its occupants. Arturo Sanchez and I were the last to enter.
“Upon completion of the initial sweep of the house, they had located and detained the wife of the drug dealer along with her young daughter, who was roughly the age you were when you experienced your traumatic event. The little girl was sobbing uncontrollably.
“But what I remember most about her were the drawings. The walls of her room that she shared with her parents were covered in the little girl's artwork. Each picture was of a single flower. Her artistic ability was not that of a girl her age or even one twice it. She glowed."
"Glowed?"
"Sometimes I forget myself. My father's words slip out of me sometimes. Glowed was a term he used to describe a person whose inner beauty shone so brightly it cast an aura around them. My father claimed to be able to see. And until that day, I thought it was just one of the oddities I'd come to expect from him. But on that day, I saw it. I felt it. If nothing else, I understood what my father's word meant.
“Was that little girl adorable? Sure, but what child isn't. Was her artwork amazing? Absolutely. Maybe it was the fact she was standing there amongst those soldiers in all their gear, with their rifles and armor, while the girl wore nothing but a long nightshirt that went past her knees. Maybe in contrast to all the darkness around her she became the light.
“I know what you're thinking. Did she really glow? I'll say to you what I've said to the countless others with whom I've shared this story over the years. Her name was Maria and she glowed brighter than any to come before or after."
"What happened to Maria?"
"Upon the initial sweep of the house, it appeared as though the husband wasn't home. As the team was assembling to do a secondary, more detailed search, the drug dealer emerged from a trap door in the floor, not unlike the one at Ernesto's house. He fired his gun wildly as he came up.
“I remember the sound of it passing by my ears. That strange zip and pop is something I had never heard before, and to be quite honest, something I never hope to hear again. Arturo Sanchez, standing next to me, fired three rounds, killing the man instantly.
“The wife, upon seeing her dead husband, left her daughter's side and launched herself from the couch. To say she was enraged doesn't do justice the viciousness with which she attacked. Make no mistake about it, she was intent on killing the men responsible.
“Sanchez was already moving to intercept the attack. He told me afterward, years later when we reconnected, that he intended to shove her back to the couch. That was before she grabbed the pistol from her dead husband's hand."
“In a tragic chain of events, Sanchez discharged his weapon, only firing one round. It killed her instantly. The mother and widow collapsed on top of her dead husband. The sounds of her death still haunt me. The sight of their young daughter Maria painted in both her parents' blood.
“In the shock and aftermath that followed, the blood covered Maria disappeared from the soldiers tasked with keeping an eye on her. And I've been looking for her ever since."
"Any luck?"
"Sadly, no. I do see her in the faces of the girls I help, like Letty. Hoping one day I will learn that little Maria is alive and well, and that her beautiful flowers continue to cover the walls of wherever she is now. Most of all, I pray with all my heart that she glows."
"Think of all the good you're doing in the process."
"Take heed of your own words, Daphne. Young Letty has a new chance at life thanks to you." He looked down at the fluttering arm of the speedometer as if willing the car to go faster. "Now let's see if we can do the same for Angela Rothman."
With only a few hours of darkness ahead of them, Hatch hoped that at the new day's end, Angela would be safe, and Hatch's promise to the young girl would have been kept.
A sign rose in the distance. The twenty-foot, bright orange of the Solarus Juice Company's walrus painted on the sign above the factory beckoned them forward.
Twenty-Six
Miguel pulled the Nissan to a stop in a lot across from a high chain-link fence. Topped with spiraled razor wire, it stretched around the 8,000-square-foot warehouse. On top of the building sat the twenty-foot lighted billboard depicting the orange sunglass-wearing walrus, holding a cup of orange juice and wearing a satisfied smile.
The lights and activity around the warehouse stood out around its dark surroundings. From an outsider's perspective, it looked to be nothing out of the ordinary. Most of the employees wore powder blue coveralls and hard plastic helmets painted white.
"What's the plan?" Ayala ducked down in his seat, shutting the car and headlights off.
Hatch took a similar position and cranked her seat back, enabling her a clear line of sight with minimal exposure. She looked over the cracked desert of sun-bleached leather in Ayala's old Sentra. She scanned their surroundings, waiting for an opportunity to arise, and a plan to form.