“Wow. What a flight.”
Automatically turning his head, Jose Jr. wondered why Chad would make such a remark. After all, their flight from Arica to Santiago, then onto Miami was so uneventful you could almost call it downright boring. Not to mention, how bad could the traveling really be when you're lucky enough to get the window seat – even if the trip did last twelve hours?
“What do you mean?”
Chad displayed a bewildered look. It seemed his younger brother’s question was unexpected.
“Oh. Nothing really,” he said before getting out of his seat so he could grab the bags they stored in the small compartment above them.
Heaven knows the last thing I need is for the dork to start asking questions like, what’s really in that six-foot by three-foot wooden box we’re brought. …. Thank goodness, I had that conversation with Mom about how grandma used to smuggle in, heaven knows, how many carets worth of 24-karat gold bracelets through the Miami International Customs, when she was just a teen. But unlike what grandma did, trying to smuggle a living, breathing human is a heck of a lot more complicated.
Jose pursed his lips as he carefully watched his brother, and if Chad would have been looking carefully, he would have realized how Jose wasn’t buying a single word he was told.
“So. Are you ready to go?” Chad asked, shifting a gray case in his hand.
Jose nodded, and then stopped to glance around. It seemed most of the other passengers were heading down the corridor toward where Customs must be located. The only exception being a single mom whose preschool kids who were jumping up and down like rabbits on steroids.
He watched them for a moment and sighed. Thank God, we didn’t have any kids with us. I swear, munchkins like these two are nothing but annoying rugrats, and if that’s what kids are like, I’ll never have any. They’re way too much trouble to deal with.
“Do you know where we’re supposed to be going?” Jose asked after examining the terminal’s insides and deeming it was larger than they’ve been expecting.
“I think so,” Chad answered. “Even though I haven’t seen a sign saying anything about Customs, everyone seems to be heading to the left.”
“The left?” Jose gazed in that direction before taking a quick look right to see if anyone was going in that way.
“Yeah,” Chad said. “But let’s verify with a stewardess just to make sure. I think I see one heading in our direction.”
A minute later, he was told to just follow the wide aisle and eventually they would find it. However, what she failed to mention was, how long the line was going to be once they arrived or if there was a possibility that something unexpected might come up during the procedures which could cause a delay or even cause someone of being deported.
The latter, of course, Jose was well aware of since his mother (Maria) had reminded him of the potential.
“Next,” a Customs Agent shouted after finishing up with a forty-something, dark-haired female. The previous traveler’s eyes were a sparkling brown, and they, along with a gorgeous pair of rose-colored lips, showed Bob her appreciation.
Bob straightened his back in reply, which made his white dress shirt, navy blue tie, and gray polyester suit stand out. That, combined with his bluish-gray eyes and dark brown hair (where he wasn’t balding), help him appear to be fulfilling the professional role he was expected to play.
Chad smiled at him when he and Jose approached his workstation, but in contrast to the way he responded when a lady was there, Bob did not reciprocate.
His interests mainly must be good looking women, Chad thought while maintaining a friendly appearance.
Several minutes and heaven knows how many questions later when it appeared they might be nearly done, unexpectedly, Bob’s phone rang. Within seconds, both his expression and composure changed from a regular business-like seriousness to completely dead serious.
“Mr. Vargas,” Bob said after the phone conversation ended. “You and your brother shipped a rather large container with you to Miami. Is that correct?”
Chad hesitated before he answering, and Jose’s eyes turned to meet his. They appeared to be worried.
“Yes,” Chad answered.
Bob frowned.
“There appears to be some security concerns regarding it. For some unknown reason, our security personnel have not been able to verify its contents.”
Chad presented a falsetto smile. “I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t. The box is lined with a material specifically designed to prevent any potential radiation from ruining its contents.”
“Oh?” Bob said, his mouth forming a near perfect circle.
“Yeah. You see…”
Bob raised his hand to a stop position. “Please don’t provide the details. Homeland Security are the ones who deal with situations such as this and from what I’ve just been told, they’ll be sending a couple of guys to meet with you shortly.”
Homeland Security, Jose repeated under his breath. Is that what they call the police or F.B.I. now?
Chad glanced at his brother and decided to ignore his expression, before turning toward the Customs Agent, “So, do you think I’ll have time to make a quick phone call before we get escorted?”
Bob gave a quick nod even though his forehead scrunched a bit and formed a wrinkle. It was obvious, he wasn’t too happy about the idea.
“Hello. Dad,” Chad said, speaking in Spanish into his smartphone a few seconds later. “I’m glad I caught you. Is Mom there?”