They had switched planes in San Jose. A representative from the American embassy joined them on the short hop to the coast. The US Marshall that accompanied Meryl from the early flight out of Miami chatted casually with the diplomat, mostly politics, some sports and future plans. Meryl glanced quietly from the window as the coast drew nearer and the small plane landed. A car was waiting at the end of the airstrip along with a Jeep marked up for the Costa Rican military. The representative greeted the waiting men and said a few words in Spanish. They glanced at Meryl, handcuffed, and laughed.     

The Jeep led the way through a winding coastal town. The roads were narrow and lined with sun-bleached apartments and small vendor stands that the locals walked around on the street. A couple times the military officers in the Jeep had to shout and wave people out of the way and the Jeep coughed a puff of black smoke each time the driver accelerated and shifted gears. With her hands bound behind her, Meryl shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat and looked over at the Marshall flatly. He shrugged and gave a mildly sympathetic grin.

A limousine passed them going the opposite direction as they turned into the dockyards and Meryl could see the waiting freighter emblazoned with the iconic logo of the dinosaur skeleton between the dirty masts of fishing boats and salt-scarred shipping containers. She felt a low tightening in her gut and gulped in a small breath of air. The Jeep turned crisply in front of the ship where a solitary man was standing, smoking a cigar as equipment and supplies were being loaded into the ship. 

Meryl could hear the introductions as the American diplomat was the first to get out followed by the driver who went around to the trunk and then the Marshall. The men in the escort Jeep merely looked on. For a moment, she sat alone, listening. She thought she heard the man’s name. It was something foreign, but she couldn’t quite make it out from inside the car. It sounded middle-eastern, but she wasn’t sure. A question was posed to the Marshall as he started to open her door. “I wouldn’t even give her a calculator until you got to that island.” He replied matter-of-factly. 

The door opened in a blast of humid sea air and morning light that caused her to squint and look down as he helped her out of the car. The coastal breeze immediately blew her hair over her face and around her mouth. She calmly looked at the man as her eyes still worked to adjust to the light and puffed away a mouthful of hair locks. She decided it was at least comical to appear grimly undignified in front of these official types. The Marshall handed over the handcuff keys and she grinned a little at the introductions.

“This is Meryl,” the representative said plainly as if he were handing over a delinquent child to her parent. “You may or may not have had time to review her file, but she is now under your employ. Washington has already completed the necessary transfers via your lobbyist and the acting boardmembers.”