Anxiously parading around her neighborhood and wandering further throughout Manhattan that Thursday, Gabriela had done exactly what Sr. Bello had told her to do. For fifteen hours she made sure she had contact with store merchants or street vendors. Stopping to chat with men in every shop, she shamelessly flirted with each one to make sure they’d remember seeing her that day. Using a credit card in numerous stores, she bought many small, inexpensive items to create a timestamped paper trail.

“You’ve got to have an alibi, Gabi, just in case,” Sr. Bello had said firmly. “It’s unlikely anything would ever be traced to you, but I still want you to have contact with as many people as possible. Make sure you’re seen all day long and into the evening. It’s just a precaution.”

That Thursday morning, she was surprised how her nerves had gotten the better of her. Strolling and sashaying through the Lower East Side streets she took the subway uptown to the park in the morning. From there she worked her way downtown, stopping and shopping on almost every block. Once in her neighborhood after her uptown jaunt, she took a deep breath, walked into her local vegetable market and greeted the proprietor.

“Buenos tardes, Sr. Santiago,” said Gabriela when the owner looked up and smiled. “Un buen día, no? Que es un especial hoy?” Chatting amiably with the older Dominican man, she complimented him on the quality of his produce. During their conversation he revealed his age.

“I’m nearly sixty,” he said proudly.

“No es possiblé! I don’t believe it. You look like a young man in his thirties. You must have very good genes, señor,” said Gabriela holding a small bag of avocados. She touched his arm. “I will think of you tonight when I mix up my guacamole.” His eyes crinkled above his blue surgical mask. He’d remember her visit that day.

By 9pm, exhausted and weary of wandering, she stopped at a wine store and bought a bottle of champagne—tonight she would celebrate. On her way home, she sat on a bench and took out her special phone used only for communication with Sr. Bello.

“Can you talk?” said Gabriela in a loud whisper.

“For a moment,” said Sr. Bello.

“Is it done? Can I go home now?”

“Yes, but after this, we won’t be able to talk or text for a while. There could be a lot of blowback and we don’t want to make a mistake,” he said firmly. “It’s better if we don’t have any contact for a few months.”

“Months?” said Gabriela. “But I thought…”

“Gabi, trust me. I know what I’m doing. I’ll be in touch when it’s safe. We’ve come too far to screw this up by being sloppy. Be patient.”

“It will be terrible being apart from you for so long.”