Chapter Two
Nineteen seventy-one was a good year for South Florida residents. The Miami Dolphins had won the AFC Championship and the following year they even made it to the Super Bowl.
However, at this particular moment, neither item was of any concern to either Victoria or Maria Vargas. After spending twelve hours aboard a 747 traveling from Santiago, Chile to Miami, the only thing their hearts desired was to set their tired feet on some solid ground – or at least a nice patch of warm, sandy soil.
“Thank you for flying Delta. I hope you enjoyed your trip. Please fly with us again,” a tall, dark-haired captain wearing a navy blue suit mechanically repeated as each set of passengers trudged past the cockpit onto the narrow aerobridge that would lead them into the terminal.
Victoria politely nodded in reply. However, after spending that much time in flight, and a partly turbulent one at that, she really wouldn’t have cared if he would have obnoxiously said, “Thanks for giving us a good bit of dough, people. Now, hurry up and get your Fannies off my jetliner. I’ve got a sizzling date with a hot, string bikini-clad stewardess tonight, and I need to start getting ready.” Victoria just wanted to get outside, so she could bathe in the warm sunshine and inhale the salt tainted sea breeze.
“Ah-h-h,” she unconsciously verbalized when the two of them exited the cramped passageway.
Maria gazed at her mother and smiled. “So how do we get to Customs from here?”
“I’m not really sure,” Victoria said, taking a couple of steps toward the terminal's center aisle. “This airport is quite a bit larger than what I had expected.”
On her right, the concourse was lined with numerous dark gray, plastic seats, and an untold number of boarding gates – each symmetrically arranged on either side of the terminal. To her left, a mirror image existed, with the exception of one item – a large LED sign standing about fifty feet away. It displayed an ever-changing list of the day’s departures and arrivals.
“Are we lost?” Maria asked, exhibiting a subtle frown.
Victoria took a second look and was about to answer, yes, when a young, curly-haired, female Delta airline attendant flashing a toothy smile interrupted.
“Excuse me, Misses. You appear to be in need of assistance. Could I help?”
“Sí. I mean, yes,” Victoria said, turning to face her. “My daughter and I just arrived from Santiago, and we’re not really sure how to get to Customs?”
“No problem, Señoras,” the attendant replied, revealing another oversized grin before pointing toward the Arrival/Departure sign. “This terminal is for international flights only. Just follow the walkway about two hundred feet past this sign, and you’ll see the line for Customs.”
“Gracias.”
“Oh look, Mother,” Maria excitedly said, upon reaching a roped entranceway to the Customs' desk and seeing only a half-dozen people in front of them. “We’re not going to have a long wait.”
That’s a shame, Victoria thought, while trying not to show much concern. I was hoping they would be too busy to do a close inspection.
After taking a couple of minutes to examine their passports and hand them a translated handout, which contained a lengthy list of U.S. rules and regulations, “Do you ladies have anything you would like to declare,” a thirty-something, uniformed agent asked in a business-like manner.
“No. I don’t think so,” Victoria said, placing her handbag on the gray Formica shelf between them so the officer could inspect it. “The only thing I brought with me is my makeup and some jewelry.”
“Jewelry?” The gentleman raised an eyebrow and took hold of her bag. “What type of jewelry, ma’am?”
“Just some gold rings, and a couple of necklaces and bracelets.”
Maria glanced at her mother, and her lips formed a broad grin. “My parents own a chain of jewelry stores in Arica, Chile.”
“You do?” The officer instantly began to eyeball Victoria with unusual suspicion. “You wouldn’t be trying to smuggle in a few items … would you, Mrs. Vargas?”
Victoria released a hearty laugh. “Why, of course not,” she said, discreetly pulling her jacket sleeve over the small collection of bracelets she had placed on both arms shortly before they left. “Just look inside my purse. There are only a couple of items inside there.”
“Just a couple?” The officer paused after noting the way Maria briefly stared at her mother. “Are you sure you’re not wearing anything you would like to declare? After all, ma’am, possession of undeclared goods is a serious Federal offense in this country.”
“No,” Victoria replied with a false smile. “I’m positive there isn’t anything else. Unless you would like to see the necklace my husband bought me for our anniversary.” Reaching inside the neckline of her blouse, she pulled out an eighteen-carat gold herringbone.
The officer’s carolina blue eyes swiftly bulged outward and stared at both the necklace and Victoria’s well-shaped physique for a moment. He then turned to face Maria, in order to register her response.
“No. That won’t be necessary,” he eventually told Victoria as a subtle grin formed across his lips. “We just need to make sure the total value of everything you're bringing into the U.S. doesn’t exceed a thousand dollars. If it did, you’d be required to pay an import tax.”
“I know,” Victoria acknowledged, carefully stuffing her necklace back inside her blouse. “And I can assure you; there’s not enough here to have to make an official declaration. I try to be careful about things like that.”
The officer gave her a slight nod before handing each of them their passport. “I see. Then you should be ready to go. Please have a nice visit.”
Victoria smiled and clasped Maria’s hand, and the two of them proceeded toward the main concourse.
“You really need to watch what you say, little one. You almost got us into a lot of trouble.”
Maria pivoted to face her. “Me? Almost get us in trouble? ... For what?”
Speaking in a whisper, Victoria responded in Spanish – in hopes that no one but her daughter would understand.
“Do you have them in sight yet?” a husky male voice asked over the in-house security phone as Maria and Victoria continued toward the front of the airport. “We’re looking for two South American females, both with dark hair. One appears to be in her mid to late 40’s. The other, I would guess to be around 18.”
“Yes. I’ve got them in sight, Captain,” Joe whispered into a rectangular-shaped, push button phone that normally hung on the wall, next to his station at the front of the airport. “They’re about fifteen feet away and currently heading in my direction. … They should be reaching the main concourse any minute now.”
“10-4.”
“Do you want me to approach them?”
“Negative, Joe,” Captain Richardson replied. “According to our security cameras, I suspect we got a party of three – two adults and one child – who will soon be joining them.”
“Wholesalers or customers?”
“I doubt if they’re either,” the Security Chief said before taking an additional glance at his monitor. “Going by the woman’s appearance, I highly suspect its family.”
“Hmm,” Joe responded in a slightly raised tone. “That’s interesting. Do you think they’re also involved in this smuggling scheme?”
“I’m not sure, at least not yet, Joe. Just keep a close eye on them, but do not approach. I’ll have someone intercept them before they leave Baggage Pickup.”
Joe nodded. “10-4.”
“Are you sure José will be waiting for me when we return to Arica?” Maria asked as her and mother approached the main concourse. “Twelve months is a long time, especially for someone our age.”
“If your boyfriend truly loves you, he will,” Victoria replied cheerfully. “And if José doesn’t … well.”
“Grandma!” a four-year-old abruptly screamed at the top of her lungs before wrapping her arms around the older woman’s legs. “You made it!”
“Of course I did, little one,” Victoria said, lifting her granddaughter up into her arms, and giving her a gentle squeeze before setting her down.
“So how was the trip, Victoria?” Gaines asked, with a beaming smile. “Not too turbulent, I hope.”
“No. It wasn’t too bad,” Maria interjected. “There were only a couple of times Mom and I thought we had boarded a trampoline.”
“You were lucky, then,” Lisa, her older sister said, before giving both Victoria and Maria a hug. “During our last time back from Arica, Gaines and I felt like a couple of kids inside of a bounce castle for at least a good two solid hours.”
“Really?” Victoria lifted her brow, and both Gaines and Lisa nodded their confirmation.
“So where’s Baggage Pickup?” Maria asked as she scanned the parameter of the concourse. “Mom said we were going to have to go there to pick up our luggage.”
Gaines gazed toward an open stairwell and took hold of his daughter’s hand. “It’s just a little ways from here – on the ground floor. I can’t wait to show you the huge conveyor this airport uses.”
“Miami’s airport uses a conveyor for baggage pickup?” Maria asked as her eyes widened.
Both Gaines and Lisa knowingly smiled.
“Of course, Sis. They have to in order to handle the huge volume,” Lisa replied. “You’re in Miami, Florida now. It’s a whole lot bigger than Arica.”
“Station 15 to Captain Richardson. Station 15 to Captain Richardson. Do you read me? Over.”
“We got you, Joe. What's up?” the captain asked over his two-way.
“The suspects are beginning to head down the stairwell.”
“10-4, Joe. I’ll notify Alan in Baggage Pickup to keep an eye out for them. Richardson out.”
“So what do think of our little landing pad, Mother?” Gaines asked, after retrieving both Victoria’s and Maria’s medium-gray, Samsonites from the airport’s eighth of a mile-long conveyor and sitting them at his mother-in-law's feet.
“It’s grandioso,” Victoria replied, while subtlety sliding a couple of fingers under her sleeve as if she had acquired an itch.
“Did you bring me a present from Chile, Abuelita?” Donna asked, eying her grandmother’s luggage, while displaying an impish grin.
“Of course I did, little one.” Victoria bent over and opened her case. “Don’t I always?”
“Yes, ma’am. And I hope you brought me a Baleros Cup. I really want one.”
“Well, let me see. If you’re lucky, I might have,” Victoria said, smiling as she reached deep into her suitcase with both of her hands.
However, instead of promptly removing the brown paper bag, which contained the prized wooden object her granddaughter was seeking, she made a big show – as if she might have been experiencing a little trouble trying to find her gift, while discretely opening a hidden compartment and depositing an assortment of gold necklaces and bracelets.
“Would this do?” Victoria asked when she pulled out what appeared to be a brightly decorated wooden cup attached to a stick – with a small red ball attached.
“Yes,” Donna loudly screamed in delight before giving her grandmother an overly affectionate hug. “Thank you so much, Abuelita. That’s exactly what I wanted.”
“You certainly made her day, Victoria,” Gaines said as he watched his mother-in-law close her suitcase, and lift his daughter to her waist. “She’s been bugging us about getting one of those things ever since one of her playmates at the nursery school brought one for Show-and-Tell.”
“Really? I’m surprised anyone would have one anywhere near here since it’s a Spanish toy. I guess it’s a good thing I bought one for her,” Victoria replied as they started to head toward the exit. “I also have something I'd like to give to both you and Lisa, just as soon as we get home.”
“Why thank you, Mom. That's mighty nice of you,” Lisa said. “But you really didn’t have to bring us anything.”
“Oh yes, I did,” Victoria replied, waving her off. “I wouldn’t want to ...”
“Excuse me, Miss,” a tall, slender man wearing a dark, military-style uniform said, abruptly interrupting her. “Aren’t you Victoria Vargas?”
Victoria’s face paled, and she took a step back.
“Yes I am, Officer. Why?”
“Ma’am,” the uniformed man began as two other officers walked up from behind. “We’re with the U.S. Customs Department, and we’re going to need both you and your daughter to follow us to Captain Richardson’s office.”
“Captain Richardson’s office?” Victoria repeated, before glancing toward her son-in-law.
“What is this all about?” Gaines asked, displaying a shocked expression. “Have they done anything wrong? They just got here.”
“I know,” the officer replied in a serious intonation. “However, they may not be here long. Trying to smuggle undeclared goods into the United States is a serious Federal crime.”