Chapter Four
Even though semi-gray reflections continuously appeared and disappeared like mystical shadows along the narrow passageways the authorities were forcing Maria and Victoria to pass through on what seemed to be a never-ending journey into the innermost depths of the Miami International Airport, Victoria appeared unperturbed.
Her daughter, on the other hand, was pale and one of her hands started to twitch.
“There is nothing to be nervous about,” Victoria said, turning toward her youngest as the two of them continued to follow the set of dark-uniformed Custom officers three feet in front of them, while an identical set of officers followed closely behind. “We haven't done anything wrong.”
Maria automatically glanced in her mother's direction, and a minute smile which reflected her inner feelings of insecurity, soon appeared.
Several minutes later, they reached a twelve-by-fourteen glass-enclosed office, and a small black-and-white sign hanging above its door stated the identical thing the Custom agent named Joe promptly announced. They had arrived at Interrogation Room.
“Joe to Captain Richard. Do you read me?” he then said into the mic of his two-way as Mark punched a four-digit passcode into a nearby keypad.
“I got you, Joe. Are you and Mark ready?”
“Yes, sir. Mark's leading them in as we speak.”
“Good. Please ask them to take a seat while we finish getting our equipment ready. It should only take a couple more minutes.”
“10 - 4, Captain.”
The moment Victoria passed through the painted metallic-framed doorway, she noticed the six-foot, rectangle-shaped, walnut-topped table someone strategically placed in the center of the room. To its left, three tan plastic chairs sat in front of a room-length, smoke-colored window. On its right, a single, black-cushioned rocker seemed extremely out-of-place considering the style of the other chairs surrounding it.
The officer who is going to do the questioning must have a bad back, Victoria noted, taking a seat.
“Mother. What are those?” Maria said, pointing to a couple of camera-type devices hanging from the southeast and southwest corners of the ceiling.
Mark looked to see what the younger lady was referencing, then spoke before Victoria had a chance to reply. “Those are video cams. We use them to record any interrogation session performed here.”
“Oh? Why would you need to do that?”
“For security reasons,” Joe answered, while slipping into a seat next to Mark's. “Have you noticed the large one-way window directly behind you?”
Maria rotated her chair, and after staring at it for a second or two, nodded. “Yes. I have now. What about it?”
“Behind it is a computerized face and voice analyzer,” Joe stated, using a tone he thought would make him sound familiar which such devices. “We use it to determine if someone is telling the truth.”
Victoria's face involuntarily whitened. “A computerized face and voice analyzer? I thought that type of technology only existed in the movies.”
Joe chuckled and shook his head. “I'm afraid not, Mrs. Vargas. It exists in real life, as well.”
“Wow,” Maria mouthed, before taking a second look at the overhead devices.
“Are you sure you're not just trying to scare us?” she asked, as her lips transformed into a small frown. “Those cameras look exactly like the ones my mother's bank uses. And they're certainly not connected into any computer.”
As Joe grinned, the sound of muffled laughter unexpectedly entered the room from behind the oversized window. And upon hearing it, both Maria and Victoria turned in its direction.
However, their interest in the muted sounds became short lived when a stout, dark-haired man passed through the Interrogation Room's doorway.
“Ladies,” Captain Richardson said, making his way around the end of the table, before taking a seat inside the black, cushioned rocker. “I'm Captain Richardson. But you can call me, Tom, if you would prefer,” he added, stretching his arm, so he could shake each of their hands.
“Tom,” Victoria repeated as a small quirk formed in a corner of her lips. It prominently revealed, she wasn't overly impressed.
“Now I know the two of you, instead of being here, would rather be going home with your family,” the captain began, deliberately ignoring Victoria's expression. “But we have come across what appears to be a potentially serious problem. One which could cause both of you to be either fined, placed in prison, or possibly deported. If not a combination of all three.”
Victoria gazed at the overhead cameras, and then turned to directly face Captain Richardson. “Do you really think after going through all the trouble and effort it took to acquire a U.S. Visitor's Visa; I would throw it all away by allowing one of us to do something foolish?”
Richardson displayed a medieval grin. “It certainly appears that you did.”
Maria balked, and her cheeks turned a bright red. “How dare you insult my mother like that, you … you. Well, whatever you are,” she yelled, jumping to her feet.
Victoria reached out and pulled her daughter back into her seat. “Maria, please. Calm down. … This is nothing to get upset about. You're reacting the way he wants you to, little one. … By doing exactly what's he's doing; he's hoping we'll get upset and accidentally say something which could be used against us.”
“He is?” Maria said, open mouthed.
“Of course, little one,” Victoria replied with a small smile while opening her purse. “This is all standard procedure. And, believe me, I should know. I've assisted your brothers so many times with messes they have had involving Chilean custom agents; it's not funny.”
The Captain just watched and smiled while Victoria took out a makeup mirror and proceeded to powder her face.
“So. You think you have us Custom Agents all figured out. Don't you, Miss Vargas?”
“As I just told my daughter, Mr. Richardson, I've had my dealings with your kind before.”
Tom crossed his arms and released a small chuckle.
“Ma'am,” he began, taking on an artificial Texan cowboy-type drawl. “I certainly can't tell you what the custom agents in Chile might be like. But one thing I can assure you is … you definitely don't want to be playing games with any of them. Within these here borders, which we like to refer to as the United States, we don't believe in fooling around.”
“And you think the agents in Chile do?” Victoria asked, purposely using a defiant tone. “Well. Let me ask you this, Mr. Captain Richardson, sir. Do you believe in torturing your victims until you finally get the answers you want – regardless if it's the truth or not?”
Tom's eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No, Ma'am. Practices like that are not allowed in this country. However, the means we do utilize for getting the truth out of people are quite effective.”
“Oh really?” Victoria briefly stared toward the ceiling. “And by being “effective”, does that mean using false accusations and wrongly detaining people in order to accomplish your goal?”
Tom could not help but smile upon hearing her question. “Do you feel you and your daughter have been falsely accused, Mrs. Vargas?”
“Definitely,” Victoria stated, momentarily glancing at Maria. “We both have.”
Stretching his arms across the top of the table, Tom cracked his knuckles.
“I'm afraid I have to disagree with you, Victoria. So far, neither you or your daughter has been formally charged with anything. You both are just under suspicion.”
Victoria immediately snorted. “Oh. Is that so, Captain? Then would you please explain to us why your officer told my son-in-law that we may not be staying in the U.S. very long.”
Tom unconsciously winced since this was unquestionably something which never should have been said.
“Mrs. Vargas,” he said, after stopping to recollect his line of questioning. “Do you recall what you told your daughter this afternoon … shortly after you had passed through Customs?”
Victoria nodded. “Yes. I told her that she needs to be careful about what she says in front of Custom Agents, since words sometimes become misinterpreted.”
Captain Richardson immediately frowned. “I'm afraid that isn't precisely correct, Mrs. Vargas. If you recall, your exact words were, 'You really need to watch what you say, little one. You almost got us into big trouble.'“
He then paused to let the words he quoted sink in.
“What specifically were you referring to when you said that, Victoria?'“
Her dark-brown eyes rapidly narrowed. “I meant what I just said, Mr. Richardson,” she answered. “During the time we spent with the Custom's Inspector, Maria happened to mention that my husband and I own a chain of jewelry stores in Arica. And with knowing customs agents the way I do, I was concerned her revealing this fact would make us look suspicious.”
Tom leaned backwards in his chair and took a deep breath.
“I see. And when you continued your discussion, which for a currently unknown reason you felt was needed to be spoken in Spanish, you didn’t mention anything about bringing any additional undeclared jewelry you might have with you?”
Victoria instantly gasped. “You understood our conversation?”
“Of course we did, Mrs. Vargas. Spanish is rapidly becoming a common language here in Miami. That's why we require all of our agents to become fluent in it.”
Victoria stared at him and hesitated, as if she needed a moment or two to consider this new, unexpected development.
“Do you think he is telling us the truth, Mother?” Maria asked, in Spanish, as a doubtful expression washed across her face.
“Yo no sé. Pensé que sólo se hablaba Inglés en los Estadoes Unidos.” (I don't know. I thought that only English was spoken in the United States.)
Maria looked at her mother and frowned.”Bueno. Al parecer no lo es. Entonces, ¿qué hacemos ahora?” (Well. Apparently, it isn't. So what do we do now?)
Tom grinned at Maria, and then at Victoria, while within both of his eyes one could easily see the gears within his mind rapidly turning. “Los dos es posible que desee comenzar a hablar en Inglés. Después de todo, acabo de informar a los dos que podemos entender todo lo que hablan en español.” (“The two of you might want to start by speaking in English. After all, I did just inform both of you that we can understand everything you speak in Spanish.”)
“Huh?” both Victoria and Maria abruptly replied, turning to stare at him.
“I said I would prefer that you speak in English.”
“Oh. Yes. Certainly,” Victoria said.
Reaching into his case, Tom pulled out an unidentifiable computerized device and proceeded to tap on a few keys. “Victoria,” he said, not long afterwards. “Let's begin with a very basic question, and please remember; the truthfulness of your response is being monitored by our mainframe computer. Do you have more than a thousand dollars worth of jewelry?”
Victoria grinned. “Of course, I do.”
“OK,” Tom nodded. “Then why didn't you declare this when you passed through Customs?”
“Because I didn't bring every piece of jewelry I own with me. Most of it is still in Chile.”
Tim glanced at her and grimaced. I can see now; this isn't going to be easy.