Publica Bank was bustling when Kip and Rosa entered. Ms. Ortiz was in her office but with a mound of paperwork and her back turned to the interior windows of her office.
Linda looked up from her desk and appeared to stare at Kip and Rosa. “Well, the corporation fairly well protects your property and assets; technically, when you married Rosa all the monies and stock became hers as well. Those assets prior to the marriage and prior to the corporation are liable, and I am checking to see if anything in the company can be tied in too. We just don’t know what agreements the US government may have made with the Tico government.”
On the twenty sixth day a small slit in the door opened, revealing a bit of light surrounding a metal cup of water and a chunk of a bolillos, a hard roll. Samuel reached down and pulled the plate to himself, then pushed an empty plate back. For twenty six days, by his count, the routine had been the same. He marked the days by the feeding—one bread and water meal per day. He marked the weeks the same way. One day per week the plate contained boned salt fish; he wasn’t Catholic, but he decided to name fish day, as Friday.
“Ouch.” Kip complained. “I think he’s aiming for holes and ruts.”
“You mean that guy walking with the big dog is our security?” Rosa peered out the window.
Sam notified Costa Rica Customs that two passengers were deplaning at the private hanger at San Jose airport. So, when they arrived they were bussed over to the normal Custom’s entry area. Their luggage was screened and they were generally waved through. Paulo was waiting curbside when Rosa and Kip walked out of the terminal.