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Updated: June 11, 2025
He imagined the trolley troll rabidly looking at all people both rich and poor and searching for individuals who looked afraid. The trolley troll knew that being dressed in fine clothing precluded no one. Ticketless people were often camouflaged in rich clothes. Through a gray wall like the back of a building was this portal leading from San Ysidro to Tijuana.
Did you find the contact man, Ricardo, waiting for you at the shelter?" "I don't understand. Contact for what? If you are needing a smuggler to get her across why isn't that done in Tijuana?" "Enough. There is always more at work than meets the eye. You just need to get her to Ricardo." "A transient?" "A transient as rich as the US Treasury."
"To be honest, I wanted to look one more day for work in San Ysidro or San Diego." "Find any?" "No." "Have you decided that family loyalties are a bit more important than dabbling in petty jobs on the outside?" "Maybe. I need a job. I need money." "You are here but your cousin has not gotten here yet. You'll have to wait for her." "Oh, I thought she would be in Tijuana by now."
Gabriele listened intensely while her eyes glanced at the cart of wet clothes, which seemed to her like the great hills of Tijuana dirt but in a medley of colors and fabrics. "Why are you really living here in Tijuana? Why not Puerta Vallerta or Mexico City?" Hilda suddenly asked.
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