When Customs Inspector Peter pulled in his driveway; he heard sound of breeze rattling the rear door. He stepped out of his station wagon and muttered under his breath, " Damn that storm door is lose again" and went around the cottage. What he found was not only the storm door but also the basement door was wide open. " Oh my god; I hope they didn't get him" and then he ran inside the door, up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. He did not notice anything unusual but there were no sign of anyone's presence in the structure. The bed hadn't been slept in. He went to front window, opened it and stuck his head out to scan the farmland and then the man in short sleeve shirt, a Fedora and Khaki pants leaning on the car asked," What's wrong Pete?" "I don't know but Mendez is gone. I think Mafia hit man must have followed us and got him".

" I am coming up" said the FBI sleuth. He followed the same passage and got into room. Quickly he scanned the room with his expert eyes. I don't think anyone else came in; at least not in a vehicle. There are no tracks besides your station wagon's and it would be hard for them to walk up to this place without foot steps. You don't have a paved road. Besides that it is not their style. I think he left on his own. I noticed foot print going away from the cottage towards the fence as I came in. Let us look around a bit" the FBI man said. He then methodically studied the bedroom. There was a depression on the chair cushion where Carlos had parked himself when he was looking at the "Last Supper" Photograph. He walked towards the picture and intently examined it with a magnifying glass and then turned around to peter and said, " I think you frightened him when you left him here and returned to the city." " But why, we always have been good friends and what makes you so sure?" Pete asked in an injured voice. " Well, come here, look at this picture with this" and handed him the instrument. "What am I suppose to see?" Peter protested. "Just examine each face in that picture" the man guided him. " I don't get it; why don't you just spit it out?" Peter was upset.

"There are two fingerprints of index finger; one is on Peter's face and the other on the Judas'; I hope you went to the Sunday school when you were a child." The man had a touch of scorn in his voice.
He continued with his observations and asked Peter:

" I am pretty sure he vanished not knowing whose side you were. By the way, what Asset did he say he was willing to share with us?"

"He told me that he had encounter tapes of three US agencies' top persons who are on the mafia payroll and the list and photographs of their meetings in various resorts and the smugglers' and Coyote routes and safe houses in Texas, New Mexico and of course Cal border". Peter replied with bit of annoyance in his voice.

"Do you believe on his claims after all we have had such fake information supplied to us by the shysters and Con-men before, only to make fool of us. They give information about the abandon routes, tunnels and safe houses, which was already in the hands of local custom agents. By the way what is a proof he was telling the truth?" The FBI man was skeptical as he had never met Captain Carlos Menendez before.
Peter said in a low voice:

"I know this man; a committed soldier on this war on drug and let me tell you, he is probably the poorest man holding senior rank and having decorated for bravery on the Mexican force. He is running scared now since his trusted right hand man was cut down with three agents in a set up that was arranged by a high ranking attorney in DA's office. They did not even spare the man's family; killed his wife and son on the same evening.

Carlos told me now his own and also the son's life is in danger because as a revenge, he personally killed that attorney in fake encounter in Acapulco casino hotel. With that DA, there were two male prostitutes and another young man of twenty years; a grandson of a Chicago God Father. One of the Male prostitutes survived and told the police hierarchy, the details of the raid and the descriptions of trigger men. The information was shared with the drug cartel boss protecting the young man while in Mexico. They know who the killer is. At least Carlos believes they do."

The FBI sleuth was listening to Pet's story carefully and replied:
Oh yes, I remember that case about five months ago. So we have this jewel on our hand; a great asset indeed. A man portrayed by to our liberal press as a Mexican butcher; a trigger happy Policeman. The son of bitch's photo must have been on LA to NY Times at least twice when that encounter took place. I believe, there was one Senator from New York, who wanted him to stand trial in the US for killing of the Mafioso Sweet Angel's grandson. I think he was pressurizing the secretary of State to demand his extradition to US, to stand trial.

I know that the Mexican inquiry of that business showed that the alleged Policeman was out of country when the incident happened and the Transvestite who recognized him, also changed his story and to discredit the evidence, then the ER doctors confirmed that the man was critically injured and could not have recognized his own hands, leave aside a face, in that dimly lit room. As the months passed, Mexican Authority closed the case and Mafia Family did not make fuss over their Gay grand-kid; they quietly buried him somewhere near Acapulco and forgot him. I doubt if your man was ever in any danger. However, he is here in the US and it won't be hard to track him down with all that publicity."

Peter said, " that makes more sense to me. Carlos must have been collecting evidence against the Mexican government officials and his own bosses for long time as a bargaining chip with us or with mafia depending on who gets him first They must have decided to take care of him later at an opportune time."

"Well, Peter your assessment is correct; there is not much time waste. Do not mention this encounter to anyone unless you want to be on the run too; just forget about everything you know and move on and for the God's sake do not speak to reporters or write a book about it at least until we get him first or he is found dead which I doubt; he is a real Lobo alright. Now drop me at the Air Port, I have an appointment to keep. Here is my card and if you get any information that will help, do not call 911, just call this number and say, "I am ready to sell and I will arrange everything". Peter nodded his head and looked at the card, "Century 21", Real Estate Agent, 'so and so' and there was that telephone number.

When they went to the car, The FBI Agent pulled his briefcase and took out a "House For Sale Sign" and hammered it in the ground.
"Get Rid of it in two or three days" he instructed Peter, They left the farm house and each went their separate ways.

The trucker woke Carlos at about five in the morning and spoke to him,
" senior, casual labor for the meat packing plant or construction work usually assemble in that parking lot" Carlos got off and the trucker drove off.
Carlos had changed his cloths before leaving and was wearing a tea shirt, a used blue jean and a cap which Miguel had brought with him. His face was covered with stubble of gray and black hair. Now he started to walk with slight limp in his gait to change the walking style from that of a policeman to a person with a permanently injured lower torso.

By the time a Plant foreman arrived, there were thirty odd men and women waiting in a line patiently chatting and swapping stories of their lives. They were a happy lot. They were in the US and there was no much molestation or harassment from thugs, policemen or land lords. With exception of some race based slurs and comments by few white farmhands, which they always could ignore. Without reacting to it, they would avoid future attentions to them by shouting in a chorus and in Latino phrase , " no entienden Inglés" (Don't understand English).

All folks knew they would have a good chance of finding work at the plant and that meant food, booze and all other necessities would be in sight and the second phase of a long journey to US citizenship would begin; lot more to gain than trying to protect one's dignity by taking offenses with Gringo's derogatory comments.

Carlos tried to keep his distance from the man behind him in the line. The man had already recognized him as a new arrival from the South of the border.
As a conversational subject and sort of letting the newcomer know that his secret was safe, the man asked him if he had the papers?

"What papers?" Carlos replied.

"Work Permit" the stranger replied and then added, "if you don't have, I can send you where you get one. Then he switched to Latino dialect:
" Llámame Popito, cada uno hace en el campo. Mi casa es tu casa (If you have no place to sleep, my home is your home ").

Carlos responded cautiously. With the profuse thanks; he declined the offer by saying:
"Gracias. Me estoy quedando en casa de mi Cosin de. Tengo mis papeles. (I am ok, I am living in my cousin's place and I have the papers").

Often real danger is less eminent and frightening than the perceived one but then, who knows who controls human destiny and when the cruel events happen. Often they seem to appear like the vengeful acts of that terrible fate, but in reality, they are nothing more than the outcome of wrong decisions taken due to that perceived danger to our sense of security.

There was no creditable evidence ever found by the Mexican and US authorities that the drugs lords or the American Mafia ever went after Carlos or his family. They discovered his disappearance from his villa only after his precinct sent someone to find out why he did not report to work. He simply vanished in thin air because perhaps no one wanted him or were looking for him after that; each side perhaps thought that the other side got them first and their bodies may be in the bottom of the ocean or mixed in the concrete somewhere.

The Mexican officials in charge of investigations were glad to see an honest cop gone and in the US, only few were aware of his value at that time. This conclusion was reached by FBI after a year long search for him and then finding him in the most obvious place where lots of immigrants from South America were employed as farm workers or the meat packers. That Agent from San Diego office tracked him down three years after he fled from Peter's farm house.
How he caught up with him was no secret at all. He simply had done that through the Standard Operating Procedure(SOP),in which search for the father was kept on a rear burner and tracking down of spouse or children was put on priority.

The only person who had the knowledge of everyone's whereabouts, was Senior Miguel who remained in the border region doing same thing which he was doing all his life; operating box-truck business, distributing goods from warehouses to the customers and occasionally bringing back stolen vehicles from south of the border for the insurance companies.

Carlos did not know what happened to Mallissa. Miguel never told him about her fearing for him and was worried that his uncle will try to get her back. The other complications that had entered into that twisted tell of four lives, was that he had brought her to California to his home and since then, they had been living together as husband and wife and to top it,she had given him a daughter.

In Mallissa's practical and uncomplicated thinking, the concept of morality in the marriage between the man and a woman was a foregone conclusion for the omnipresent God. When two adults begin in sincerity to live like husband and wife, performed all duties towards each other, and to the Church, faithfully, where is the sin? The divorce was a mere arrangement to clear up the tail-end of a unworkable arrangement if the children and estates were not involved.She had rationalized the situation in one sitting and never asked him about her husband or his son nor tried to reach him out, mainly because of that fear of getting discovered, just in case he was caught and they traced her through him. Miguel kept that fear going by simply not saying anything to dispell it.

After becoming a real mother, her world changed completely and Andres became a past that had no relevance to the present; at lest emotionally. Her conscience was clear; she had done everything she could do with affection if not motherly love.

Only information Carlos got about his family members on a regular intervals was related to events happenings into Andres life and that's where FBI picked up the scent when they started checking up on the Catholic orphanages, schools and Foster Homes records. The quick success too happened by sheer coincidence.

Andres had reached fifteen and by the rule he could not live in the orphanage dorm. He was placed in a house hold of a Salvadoran family. Carlos used to send money for him through a long but trusted network that shielded him and Miguel who had facilitated it. In the orphanage, those transactions went through charitable accounts and no cash was ever given to Andres but it was spent on his necessities.

When he went to live with the family, the arrangement also shifted to the new caregivers. Ignorant of facts and figures and the compliance with the rules and regulations related to foster parenting, the family simply put money in their bank account and gave the ward, anything he asked for. However in spite of using most of it for the intended purpose, they in emergency used it to manage their own needs. Not fully understanding the rules that the money they were getting from the state of Arizona's Foster Care program had a stipulation that if any additional resources were found, like child support money from absent parents, or a trusts, they were required it to be reported on certain forms to the State's Child Welfare Fund program.

Unfortunately for them, they never understood the purpose of that regulation and failed to report that money because of fear of reduction in the program's reimbursement of expenses. A routine and random audit revealed that situation and they were promptly arrested for a welfare fraud. Poor folks were frightened beyond their wits. The story got picked up in the local news paper and Andres came in light and the local sheriff, who had received routine and repeated FBI inquiry about unsolved cases of missing children. He remembered Andre's family-name and face as the young man was always hanging around the law enforcement people whenever they had gone to his school for scaring away bad guys and drug peddler or to enforce that, "No drug" zone.

The boy's obsession with police equipment and cars was so much excessive that almost everyone in the Sheriff's and County Police departments knew his face and had heard his declaration, " I'm gone be a Texas Ranger when I grow up".
Sheriff decided to visit him at the school. When he found out that Andres was a son of a Missing Mexican Policeman he felt that it was his duty to help the family of another law enforcement officer. He sent the report to California FBI office and they tracked payments to Miguel and he took them Carlos.

By the time they got to him, he had settle down with a woman with two kids. He was working at a Truck dealership as assistant manager. When FBI agent told him that they did not find any evidence of Mafia or anyone else was after him; he simply broke down and wept like a child. He asked them what were they going to do and the Agent said we can set up a reunion program for him and his family and if he wants to stay in the US, they could help him or go back; the choice was his, provided he still had the information that he had assured Peter he had brought over.

He made a deal but told them that there was no need to rearrange the lives of rest of the family members and now he was happy with his new life. He just wanted to wait for his son to grow up bit more before reentering his life.
"He has my image as a Senior Police Officer in his mind, I don't want to disappoint him now; he is so proud of me. He thinks I died in a shoot out with the bad guys. I will get the truth to him when I am ready for him; I want his respect before I want his love". The proud man spoke with sincerity and tears in his eyes.

They agreed. He gave them the location and the combinations of Safe deposit box in Tuscan, Arizona and they gave him freedom. Carlos did not get angry at his nephew when he found out that his wife was living with him and had a child from him.

"Take good care of her she is a fine woman Miguel, get married as soon as I get my papers and I divorce her. Also I can marry Lucille here and then, may be, we could become family again." He told his nephew.

"Someday when he is ready, we will bring Andres in too" he sort of spoke to himself also. As they were parting, he turned around and said as if it was an afterthought, to his nephew, " You took lot of troubles and risks for your uncle, your mother would have been so proud of you! And I love you."

They parted, knowing fully, they were not likely to meet again because their lives had taken so many twists and turns, that the path to each others Casa was littered with the fragments of their painful journey and broken lives. No one likes to take such a path again. Each of them had found the comforts, happiness and peace in the arms of a new partner.

No one has completely explained how and why good and bad events take place in our lives but many times we find that proverbial silver lining when we come out of that storm and a rainbow appears on the horizon. One wonders if it is just to remind us that after every red light, there is a green light waiting to come on so we can continue our life's journey after pausing for the orange one and also to remember what Edward Kennedy said, " Hope shall live and Dreams will Never Die".