“There’s one in front of the stadium.” Daniel digs into his pocket and takes out a phone card. “You’ll need this. There’s about ten minutes left on it.” Then he says to Sara, “Let me log you on.”
“Be careful,” Sara tells Emiliano as he walks away.
The Benito Juárez Olympic Stadium reminds Emiliano of the time the Pumas beat the Aguilas for the city championship and the right to represent Ciudad Juárez in the state championship games. The stadium seats twenty thousand people, and it was almost full on that scorching June night. He remembers walking out of the dressing room tunnel, holding the hand of a little boy as if he were playing in a World Cup game. The little boy’s name was Beto, and his hand was small and fragile, and holding it almost made Emiliano cry.
He spends one valuable card minute getting Taurus’s phone number from directory assistance. He’ll have to keep the conversation short if he wants to call Perla Rubi.
The phone at Taurus rings three, four, five times. Emiliano is sure that Doña Pepa works on Sunday.
“Hello.”
It’s Armando. A little bit of luck is always welcome. Now he will have more minutes for Perla Rubi.
“Hello? Who’s this? Hello.”
“It’s me. Emiliano.”
“Emiliano!” Armando shouts into the phone. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard about your house.”
“Really? How?”
“Juárez is a like a big spiderweb. Nothing happens in one end that the other end doesn’t know.”
But exactly how did Armando find out? Who told him? He wants to ask more, but stops himself. “Look, I’ll be away for a couple of weeks. I wanted you and Mr. Reyes to know. But I’ll be back. Your scooter’s safe.”
“I’m not worried about the scooter. Where you going?”
Emiliano hesitates. “Away from here.”
“I understand. Emiliano, if there’s anything my father or me or Mr. Reyes can do to help with your situation …”
“Thank you.” What exactly does Armando know about his situation?
“You’ll be away two weeks, you say?”
“Maybe less.” A female voice says there are five minutes left on the card. “I have to go now. I need to make one more call on this card.”
“Okay, Emiliano. Hey, one more thing. Whatever is happening with your sister doesn’t affect you. Do you understand?”
There’s a hollowness in the pit of Emiliano’s stomach. “My sister?” he says. “What do you know about my sister?”
“Everything. I know everything. What she did and why people are coming after her right now. All I’m saying is you yourself don’t need to worry. You’re protected. That’s one of the benefits of our friendship, of your association with Mr. Reyes and with me and my father. When you come back, you’ll be okay. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yes … I think so. I’ll call you in two weeks, then. I have to go now.”
Emiliano stands back, staring at the phone. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or afraid. Relieved that Armando is so helpful and understanding. Relieved that “Sara’s situation” does not affect him—he’s protected. Afraid that Armando knows about the shooting of his house, that he knows about Sara’s work, that he knows people are pursuing her. How does Armando know so much so soon? That spiderweb he talks about—didn’t Mr. Esmeralda mention a spiderweb as well?
He calls Perla Rubi. On the sixth ring, he hears her voice. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Oh, my God, Emiliano. Are you all right?”
Her concern reassures him, reminds him of one thing he can trust. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m in a phone booth so I don’t have much time. We’re in a safe place. Hiding. They’re still after Sara. I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Emiliano, I talked to my father. He wants you to call him. He can help you. Do you have a pen? I can give you his number.”
“I don’t have a pen. But—”
“Call him at his office. Licenciado Jorge Esmeralda. He’s in the phone book.”
“Perla Rubi—”
“Do you need money? We can help.”
“We’re okay. I’m going to take Sara to the United States.”
“But how? Do you have visas?”
“I know a place in Texas where it will be safe to cross. It’s a big national park with hiking trails and old roads. We’ll be okay. Someone will meet us at the other end of the park. The important thing is that I’ll be back.”
“When? When will you be back?”
“Eight days maybe.”
“The time remaining on this card is ten seconds,” a voice says in his ear.
“I better go now.”
“Call my father, okay? Promise?”
Emiliano closes his eyes, exhales. “Perla Rubi Esmeralda …” He falters.
“I know. I love you, Emiliano Zapata.”
He hears a dial tone.
His time is up.
It is almost two when Emiliano returns to Café Rojos. Sara jumps off the stool where she’s been sitting and hugs him. “I’ve been worried to death about you. Where have you been?”
He lets her keep her arms around him for longer than she expected and then he pulls gently away. “I talked to Perla Rubi. Then I went for a walk.”
“Okay,” she says. She can see in his face that the conversation was difficult. Did he not tell her he was coming back? He sits down on a stool next to the terminal where she was working and stares at a sandwich on a paper plate.
“Daniel made it for us. It’s good. You should eat.”
He nods, but he doesn’t touch it. Instead, he rips a blank page from Sara’s notebook. “I’m going to make a list of what we need. We have to plan this trip carefully. Preparation is everything.” There’s a quiet firmness in his voice, as if he’s determined to erase from his mind whatever he’s been thinking for the past two hours.
Sara sits on the stool next to him. “I got a lot done, you want to hear? It might affect what we talk about with Brother Patricio.”
Emiliano stops writing and looks at her expectantly.
“It turns out that about ninety percent of asylum requests from Mexican citizens are denied. In order to be granted asylum, you need to show ‘credible fear of persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, and/or membership in a particular group or political opinion.’ ”
“ ‘Credible fear of persecution’? You got more than that. You got actual persecution. They can come take a look at our house if they want.”
Sara goes on, “Most of the asylum applications from Mexicans are denied because the U.S. doesn’t see persecution from the cartels as persecution for political opinion or against one of those protected groups. Even if you show that the Mexican police cannot protect you, that’s not enough.”
“What if it’s the Mexican State Police who are after you?”
“U.S. courts say that persecution by government officials in cahoots with the cartels is still persecution by the cartels. It’s not the same as persecution by a government.”