"You okay?" the policeman asked. "Come on." He opened cell door. "Let's go."
The man grunted. He exited the cell and started walking the short distance to the entrance. Then someone caught his eye. He stopped, staring. Sitting on the cot in the next cell, barely dressed, was a young girl. He figured she couldn't be more than eleven or twelve years old. The girl felt his stare, but didn't meet his eyes. The other occupants of the cell leered at her. Another man in the cell came to him and told him frankly, in front of the policeman, "Special order. You have money, we make it happen."
The young man, dressed in a wife-beater, open plaid shirt, and loose jeans shook his head, averting his eyes. The policeman behind him shoved him to move forward. He grunted his response and complied.
At the front desk he collected his belongings: a wallet (now devoid of cash), a cigarette box (with mysteriously vanishing cigarettes), and one cell phone. The man seemed genuinely surprised that he got back his cell phone. And one toothbrush which he made a mental note to throw away.
The man saluted the officers, taking note of the one lounging in the corner whom he was sure was wearing his pricey shades. Then he walked out of the dilapidated jail house.
The jailhouse was an outpost in the midst of obscure squalor on the outskirts of a little-known Guatemalan city. The police there were not properly supervised, and dished out their own brand of justice; namely the laws of the local crime boss. Prostitution, money laundering, and human trafficking were their bread and butter.
The man sighed. He walked a little ways to the side of the small, grey-brick police station stood in the middle of a dead end street. He lifted a stone and removed a small device that resembled a car locator. Looking up, he stumbled backwards, caught off-guard by the amazing fifty-foot tall magnolia tree in front of him. The grey asphalt walk that led to his car was lined with the great beauties. He walked a mile further down the road to his parked car.
He raked his hand through his dark, curly hair. His mind went to the little girl in the cell. No doubt she was a prostitute, sold or kidnapped into slavery. She looked so sweet and innocent, and thin. He shook his head. A beauty among savages.
The evil that men do…
He pushed the button on the device, and the jailhouse he had exited just minutes before erupted in an explosion powerful enough that it rocked the ground as though an earthquake had hit. The flames shot up ten feet in the sky. He nearly collapsed from strong shaking of the earth.