Chapter 22
22
A lejandro and Camila ate a leisurely breakfast at one of the restaurants down the street and went with a typical Mexican meal. He ordered chilaquiles with eggs and a side of yogurt and fruit. Camila chose huevos rancheros . They both opted for freshly squeezed orange juice. After the meal, they went to the parking lot and found Buck’s car.
Camila had been right about Buck. He was not just a taxi driver trying to decide if he wanted to live permanently in Tijuana. A former Navy SEAL, he was a member of the CIA’s special missions team called the Omega Team. They specialized in sabotage, kidnapping, hostage rescue, and counterterrorism. Alejandro didn’t know what his top-secret mission was in Tijuana, but he did know driving a taxi was simply a cover.
He opened the door and let Camila climb into the passenger seat, but the little minx brushed the front of his pants before she sat down, a mischievous smile on her face as she settled inside.
“You’re in trouble when we get back to the hotel,” he warned.
“Maybe you’ll be the one in trouble,” she said with a saucy grin.
He pinched her hip, and she slapped away his hand with a laugh.
The drive to Oasis de Vida didn’t take long because the facility, as Buck had said, was only a few miles away. They were lucky enough to find parking on the street and eased into a slot about a block from the clinic in front of a multi-story office building. There wasn’t a lot of foot traffic, but the clinic was nestled in a spot close to a number of businesses—a Peugeot and Honda car dealership side by side, a car wash, and a few small restaurants. Silver and modern, the place looked more like a sculpture than a medical clinic.
Hand in hand, Alejandro and Camila walked inside and up to the reception desk.
Alejandro lapsed into Spanish with the woman behind the counter. “Good morning. My name is Alejandro Sanchez, and I have an appointment with Dr. Lima. Rosa referred us.”
The young woman checked the computer in front of her. “Yes, I see your appointment.” She handed him a clipboard with a pen and several forms. “Please fill these out and bring them back when you’re finished. I’ll need to see your I.D. How will you be paying for the visit?”
“Out of pocket.” He handed over his card and I.D.
He and Camila sat in the lobby with the rest of the potential patients. He did the bare minimum filling out the sheets. There weren’t any questions setting off alarm bells, not that he was surprised. They were much too smart to bring undue attention to their illegal operation. On the form, Alejandro entered a knee injury as the reason he needed oxygen therapy and then handed in the paperwork.
Beside him, Camila bounced her left knee.
He placed a hand on her thigh, and she stopped. “Nervous?”
“A little. My stomach is in knots. I hope she’s here and is willing to talk.”
“So do I.”
Less than ten minutes later, one of the doors leading into the waiting room opened, and a woman in her thirties wearing blue scrubs came out with a clipboard pressed to her chest.
“Alejandro Sanchez.”
He and Camila rose from their chairs. “Hello, Rosa. Good to see you.” He figured since she had been the one to allegedly refer them, they had to pretend to be friends.
“Good to see you too. Follow me, please.” She shot a pleasant smile in their direction. If she was nervous, she was a great actress because he couldn’t tell.
Instead of going through the usual motions of getting weighed and checking his blood pressure, Rosa took them immediately to one of the examination rooms. When they closed the door, she pressed her back against it and let out a sigh of relief.
“Hi.” She swallowed.
“Are you okay?” Camila asked, placing a comforting hand on her arm.
“I am, but my heart is beating faster than usual.”
“Take your time. We’re not in a rush,” Alejandro said.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t have much time. If I take too long, one of the other staff members will know something is wrong,” Rosa whispered. When she spoke again, her voice shook. “This job is not what I expected. I didn’t sign up to—to be a criminal. I thought this was a legitimate healthcare facility, like the one I worked in before. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening, but then I realized… they’re buying and selling organs here .”
“How do you know?” Camila asked.
“I was here only two months when I noticed we don’t have many patients for oxygen therapy. Two, maybe three in a whole day. We don’t advertise our services, either. I also noticed there were parts of the clinic we weren’t allowed to enter.”
“‘We’ who?” Alejandro asked.
“Staff,” she answered. “Upstairs, there’s a separate operation, basically a separate business. You need a keycard to enter, and they have their own reception area. I only know this because I had to deliver files up there one day. Afterward, I started paying closer attention to what was happening around me. Patients were coming in through the back, which is why it took awhile for me to figure out what was happening. Chauffeurs pick them up—probably at the airport or from their hotel—and bring them here in vehicles with tinted windows.”
“Who are these people?” Camila asked.
Rosa paused for a moment, listening at the door. The voices of two women talking and laughing could be heard going down the hall. After they passed, she continued. “I’ve done some digging on my own, and they come mostly from North America—Mexico, Canada, the United States. To a lesser degree, there are patients from Latin America.”
She dug in her pocket and lifted out a jump drive. “A few weeks ago, I downloaded some files. I was going to the authorities, but then I got scared. What if they don’t believe me? What if they’re working with the clinic? I wish I weren’t so afraid.” Her lips quivered as they pressed into a thin pale line.
“It’s understandable. The police are often bribed in organ trafficking operations. They turn a blind eye to what’s happening right under their noses,” Alejandro said.
“Here, take it. Buck said you’re journalists, and you can be trusted.” Her hands shook as she handed over the evidence to Camila. “You’ll see most of the organs harvested are kidneys. But there are pancreases and hearts on the list. Donors can’t live without those organs.”
Alejandro and Camila exchanged a look. Silence filled the room as the horror of what she was suggesting sank in.
Camila slipped the device into the pocket of her dress. “We’ll expose them and make sure the right people receive this information.”
“Do you know where they’re getting the organ donors from?” Alejandro asked.
“Locals, but refugees and migrants mostly, from what I can tell. They also come through the back. The organs have to be implanted in the recipient within thirty-six hours, which means all this has to happen quickly. Tests are run for compatibility and to make sure the organs are in good condition. Then the patient is contacted. They either have to arrive before the organ is removed or shortly thereafter, or it can’t be implanted. One of the men who brings the donors, he’s called The Transporter. I don’t know his real name, but I’ve seen him more than any other driver. He’s a big man. Anglo with black hair. Very pale. He always dresses in a white button-down shirt and slacks—as if he has a nice corporate job behind a desk. Sometimes he drives a blue car, sometimes he drives a gray van. I get the impression that what he drives depends on how much ‘cargo’ he has.” She grimaced.
“Where can we find him?” Alejandro asked.
“I don’t know. He might come today or tomorrow, but the few times I’ve seen him arrive, it’s always in the afternoon. Two o’clock. Three o’clock. Around those times.”
“Do other members of the staff know what they’re doing upstairs?” Camila asked.
A sad smile crossed the woman’s lips. “Everyone knows. It’s an open secret, and we all act as if nothing is happening. We don’t have much choice.” Her voice dropped lower. “The administrator called me into her office one day and gave me a long speech about how valuable my services are and how much she appreciated the good job I was doing. She reminded me about patient confidentiality and asked if I had any problems carrying out my duties here. I’m certain she was testing me. I told her no, I didn’t have any problem carrying out my duties. She seemed pleased and said I was eligible for a quarterly bonus. Then she ended the meeting. My bonus arrived a few days later.” Tears filled her eyes.
“You did the right thing. Thank you,” Camila said, taking her hand in both of hers.
Rosa took a shaky breath. “I should go now. I’ll delete your information from the system. No one will know you were here, Mr. Sanchez. Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
After she left, the weight of what she’d told them rested in the room.
Camila turned to Alejandro with a fierce expression on her face. “They’re preying on refugees and migrants, taking advantage of their desperation. These people make me sick!” she hissed.
“We’ll get them,” Alejandro said.
“Jandro, we have to. We have to help these people.” The fierce anger of the Camila he had grown up with—the one who deeply empathized with the less fortunate and always wanted to help those in need and the marginalized in society, had risen to the surface. Nothing he did could stop her now. Job One was bringing down this operation.
“Let’s see what’s on the drive.”