Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
I took off after Tomás. I couldn’t see or hear him, but I could see the depressions he had caused in the grass.
Branches of scarlet poró were still swaying ahead of me, and small leaves quivered on either side of the freshly cut path.
As I tried to retrace his steps without sound, I kept reminding myself that even if I got caught, I’d likely just get arrested.
Manuel wasn’t going to risk going to jail for manslaughter over a few lousy interviews.
He’d confiscate my camera and phone and turn me over to the police.
All my rationalizing dissipated like so much volcanic steam when I got close enough to see glimpses of the community center through the tree branches.
In my mind I heard the Death Star theme music.
I wrapped myself around the trunk of a large laurel negro tree and observed my surroundings.
In front of me lay the soccer field, and beyond that, the community center and mill.
The field was ringed by almendro and laurel negro trees.
I took a deep breath and leapfrogged to another tree that was closer to the soccer field.
If I peeked around the trunk, I could see the community center perfectly.
There were two people sipping coffee on the veranda.
Their hideous Teva sandals heavily suggested that they were tourists, but how could I be sure?
As I scanned the area, I saw Tomás run out from behind a different tree, heading toward the mill.
I looked at the tourists: Had they noticed?
No. They seemed to be having an animated discussion in French, perhaps about nihilism, or transit strikes, or the health benefits of drinking before noon.
I recognized the word fromage and realized they were debating where to have lunch.
Hopefully they would be so engrossed in Yelp reviews, they wouldn’t notice us.
After a few minutes, Tomás sprinted toward me from the mill, carrying several manila folders. “What are you doing?!” He spoke softly. “I told you to wait in the Jeep.”
“I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you got in and out okay.”
“Don’t be stupid! Take these and wait for me in the Jeep. I forgot to put the keys back.”
“Who cares about the keys! We need to leave before we spend the rest of our lives in jail hammering license plates with volcanoes!”
“I have to put them back,” he said. “When Manuel notices they’re missing, he’ll know someone was here.”
“So what?”
“He’ll have time to cover his tracks. Write up new receipts, new invoices.”
He pushed the folders into my hands and ran back toward the mill.
I almost stopped breathing. Tomás was going to breach the Death Star twice .
I couldn’t return to the Jeep; I had to make sure he got out okay.
I put the folders down, hugged the tree, and peered around the side.
What I saw next sent my heart racing. The tourists had gone inside, and Manuel and Paula were taking their afternoon coffee onto the veranda.
Tomás stopped in mid-sprint and flattened himself behind a tree twenty feet from the mill. He was perfectly still.
“Did you hear something?” said Manuel. “I heard footsteps.”
“It was probably one of the kids,” said Paula.
“They’re supposed to be studying.”
“Would you relax? Maybe it’s some tourists who got lost on their way to the bathroom.”
“Maybe it’s that goddamned union organizer.
” Manuel scanned the forest. “If I catch him, I swear I’ll slit his throat.
” He went into the community center and returned carrying his shotgun.
Suddenly I felt very, very cold. “Pablo told me he was seen at Café Irazú on Friday. I’m telling you, Paula, I’m not letting that piece of shit steal my labor. ”
Jesus Effing Mary and Joseph. I flattened myself against the back of my tree, facing away from the center.
What if Manuel saw me? What if he mistook me for the union organizer?
What if he saw me move and thought I was a bird ?
My heart was beating so loudly I couldn’t think; I was just one big throbbing mess of blood.
“Who’s on my property?” shouted Manuel. I heard footsteps coming down the veranda steps, but I couldn’t risk looking.
I heard the footsteps stop, so I turned my head to the left.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of movement: Tomás darting toward the mill, while Manuel was looking in the other direction.
Was he insane?! I whipped my head back and tried to pull out my phone to text the Professor, but I lost my grip and it fell to the ground with a thud. I dropped to the ground to retrieve it.
“ ?Qué carajo? ” said Manuel. His footsteps were now coming in my direction.
I lay paralyzed on the ground, the blood pounding against my eardrums. But then the endorphins kicked in.
I tucked the folders under my shirt and started crawling.
There were tall ferns scattered among the trees.
If I kept low to the ground, Manuel wouldn’t see me.
.. hopefully. I crept over poisonous red bugs and prickly plants, but I barely noticed because I was focused on one thing only: getting as far away as possible.
Manuel was getting close to my original tree, but I was almost behind another.
Then I heard a click . Like a metal door closing.
I stopped moving. I turned my head and looked toward the mill. Tomás was running from the side of the mill toward the cover of the trees. Vomit rose from my stomach to my throat. I turned to look in Manuel’s direction. I wasn’t sure if he had seen Tomás.
“Paula?” Manuel shouted, now at my original tree. “What was that?”
“Leave me alone, you old bastard, I’m trying to meditate. The doctor said it would be good for my blood pressure.”
“Did you go in or out of the center?”
“No. What’s wrong with you?”
Manuel headed toward the clicking noise to investigate.
.. which meant he was heading straight toward Tomás.
He was going to catch him. I had no time to think.
I stood up, took the manila folders out of my shirt, and placed them underneath a fern.
I dusted the dirt off myself and stepped away from the protection of the tree.
“Don Manuel!” I said, waving in the sunlight, stepping into the soccer field. “ ?Saludos! ”
Manuel stopped right before he hit the cluster of trees where I thought Tomás was hiding, then turned around with his gun pointed. “Dee?”
I was reeling. You see a lot of guns on TV, but nothing prepares you for what it feels like when one is pointed at you. Waves of black muddled my vision and everything was much louder than normal.
But I had to shake it off. “I’ve come back.” I swung my arms and walked quickly to keep myself from keeling over. “To finish the tour!”
Manuel’s eyes narrowed. He took a few steps forward, lowering his gun. “What a pleasant surprise.” I crossed the soccer field, counting each step so I would remember to breathe. “Why didn’t you call first?” he said. His finger was still curled around the trigger.
“I did. Several times. No one answered. Well, finally, someone did, but to tell you the truth, I couldn’t really understand her.
My Spanish is terrible.” I tried to keep my voice as light as possible.
If I seemed stupid and cheery enough, he might put down his gun.
“Did Suzanne call you? We want to stop here on our minitrip Wednesday.”
“She mentioned it, yes.” I saw his fingers relax.
He was still holding the gun, but his fingers weren’t on the trigger.
“She said you’d be getting in contact with me.
But you really should have made sure you spoke with me first.” He let the gun hang loosely by his side.
“I thought you were a snoop. I could’ve shot you by mistake.
” I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking.
“We’ve been having a lot of problems here. ” He led me toward the veranda.
“Oh?” I managed to squeak out.
“There’s been a union organizer and an unofficial inspector,” he said.
“Some kid from an American nonprofit making unannounced visits to organic farms.” Manuel led me up the steps of the veranda and sat me in one of the chairs.
“Paula, bring Dee some coffee.” He sat down next to me and put his gun down in front of his feet.
“It’s got us all on edge,” he continued.
“It’s like our boundaries don’t count anymore.
People are violating them left and right.
” He leaned back into his chair. “The worst of it is that it’s totally pointless.
Co-ops don’t need unions and organic farms already get visited by Ethical Coffee International.
Now, Ethical Coffee I welcome. Those inspectors go through rigorous training.
But what does this nonprofit kid know? What kind of training does she have?
” I shrugged. “Foolish, naive, well-meaning foreigner. She has no idea what she’s getting into.
Personally, I feel bad for her. If she finds what she’s looking for, what then?
” I swallowed the bubble of panic rising from my gut.
I was the foolish, na?ve, well-meaning foreigner. Paula came back with the coffee.
“Let’s say she finds a farm not in compliance,” he said.
“And she wants to do something about it. What’s going to happen to her if she does?
She could get in a lot of trouble. People here protect their land.
” He tapped his gun with his foot. “She might get herself killed, and for what? It would be a tragedy for everyone. Aren’t you going to taste the coffee? ”
I swallowed a new, larger bubble of panic. “I’m just waiting for it to cool down.”
“Why don’t I give you a tour of the property while we wait?” he said. “I mean, that’s why you’re here, right?” I blinked. The longer I stayed, the more at risk we were of getting caught. But where was Tomás? Had he made it back to the Jeep?