"Yes, Finland, and once there, who knows what your good Finnish justice system might do. Time off for good behavior, perhaps, and who knows -in a short time, you may be a free man, with all of this behind you." Malcolm waved his hands as if the entire prison sentence had disappeared.

Niklas looked at the well-dressed Malcolm Turnbull, all hot and sweaty in his suit and tie, and realized that he had been sent by the commandant to do what the others could not: reason with him.

"Malcolm."

"Yes, Niklas."

"p.i.s.s off."

Malcolm's look of disdain was evident. "You know, this will end very badly for you. The Finnish consulate has already said they will have very little to do with any of their countrymen who partic.i.p.ate in criminal acts in other countries." He stood, straightening his tie. "Yes, I thought I would give you that information at the end. They will send you a Mexican lawyer who speaks little English and wash their hands of you."

Malcolm said something to the two Mexican guards in perfect Castilian Spanish and strode out of the room. His English sensibilities had been pushed to their limits by Niklas's refusal to give up his friends.

The guards guided Niklas back past the loading dock, up the stairs, and back down the hallway towards his cell. On the way, they came upon the young man Niklas had met in the drunk tank.

"Hey, man," the boy greeted him as he approached with his own two escorts. "How'd it go? Did you get off with a few hundred or a few thousand?" He leaned his head closer as they stood shoulder to shoulder in the hallway. "Looks like they didn't remember me from a few days ago -I got off with five hundred bucks." He winked. "How about you? Whadja get?"

Niklas shrugged his shoulders. "Unfortunately, the Mexicans are somewhat upset at me over the release of some dolphins. They want me to spend some time with them." Niklas smiled at the humor of his own words.

"No s.h.i.t, you're the guy everyone was talking about in the jail cell. You're like a freaking hero man, like a really cool superhero." The boy raised his hands to accent his admiration.

Niklas just shrugged. His guards motioned him to move on, and as he brushed by the young man, he felt something drop into his pocket. He smiled at the boy and moved on.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

WAITING.

Niklas was surprised when the guards directed him past the general holding cell. He could smell the stink as he walked by -it was now late afternoon, and it seemed to have aged somewhat.

They walked down another hallway and came to a series of small, one-room cells with tiny, wire mesh windows on the doors. The guards opened one of the cell doors, but before they sent him in, they stopped and did something strange -they smiled at Niklas and then took turns standing beside him and taking pictures with him with their camera phones. One of them remarked in broken English that the picture was for his sister in Guadalajara. Niklas realized he was now a major criminal in the eyes of Mexicans, a prize to be shared on Facebook.

Finally, one of the guards motioned for him to enter the cell and then closed the heavy, metal door with a slam. His keys rattled as he locked Niklas in. The cell was two meters wide by three meters long. A single bed with a mesh frame and thin foam mattress half covered by a dingy wool blanket hugged the right wall. A toilet that looked like it had been cleaned in a previous lifetime occupied the far left corner of the cell. The stench hit Niklas's nostrils immediately.

A dim light emanated from a single dusty bulb encased in a wire frame. One very small open window with heavy bars across it was situated above the toilet. A meager ray of light shone in, highlighting the dust in the cell and the graffiti on the walls.

The walls were a record of the previous prisoners' pain, the ones lucky enough, like Niklas, to have been taken out of the main prison holding tank and given this "special treatment." Niklas sat on the bed. The springs gave way, and the bed sagged like a hammock, almost touching the floor. Loneliness and despair crept in, like a tide slowly ebbing in over his consciousness, until it lay just behind his eyes like a deep, black pool.

What lay before him was the most depressing situation he could imagine. Somehow, I need to meet with a lawyer in the next day or two and try to mount a defense. Will it be insanity? Do they have that in Mexico? he wondered.

He only knew he could not give up Maria, or Tepeu and Elisa and Acan. His own morality stood in his way. His integrity would not allow him to give them up. How the Mexicans would pressure him he did not know, but he knew things could get a lot worse than they were presently.

As he sat there, sinking further into the mattress, he felt something in his lower shirt pocket. He smiled to himself about the usefulness of the Mexican beach wedding shirt -it had two lower pockets, and one held something from the American kid in it.

He pulled out a cell phone and regarded it as if he had just discovered a diamond, or a one thousand euro note, in his pocket. He punched the power b.u.t.ton -it worked. Pulling up the menu, he found it was a temporary cell with seven minutes of time left.

He wondered whom to call. There were so many people that he needed to explain his actions to. The phone showed the time in Cancun: 6:30 p.m. It would be after midnight in Finland. He knew he needed to speak with Ansa. Taking a deep breath, he dialed her number.

He waited as the line buzzed, chirped, and finally connected with Finland's familiar ring. A breathless Ansa answered. "h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo, who's calling?"

"Hi, Ansa, it's Papa." Niklas could not believe how lucky he was to have reached her. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Papa!" Ansa yelled into the phone. "We heard from some Englishman named Malcolm that you're in prison. My G.o.d, Papa, what have you done?"

Niklas could hear Ansa's breathing -fast, erratic, and scared. "I'm sorry, Ansa, I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I meant well, but this did not end well." Tears streamed down his face, and he brushed them away and took a deep breath. "Look, I know I've been a bad father to you, divorcing your mother and now this. I really want to say I'm sorry." Niklas had to stop as he was about to break into sobbing. His shoulders convulsed, and he breathed deeply.

"Papa." Ansa's voice went very quiet. "I'm sorry for sounding so upset. We heard you set the dolphins free. It just came on the news. And Papa ..."

"Yes, Ansa," Niklas said, taking another deep breath.

"Don't feel sorry for me. I'll be okay, and I'm coming with Grandpa Magnus to Mexico. We'll meet with a lawyer there and get you out."

Niklas could not believe the maturity and strength in his daughter's voice. How did she become this force of nature all of a sudden? Niklas stammered, "Ansa, no, you must not come. Stay in Finland. I've caused enough trouble for both you and your mother.

"Papa." Ansa's voice was now very stern. "You know what I've learned in the past year, Papa?"

"No, Ansa ...no, I don't know."

"I learned that my mother left you because she loves herself more than she loved you and more than she loves me -that is what I've learned in the past year. You caused no trouble, Papa. You leaving Mother helped me see that."

Niklas sat there, his ear pressed tightly against the phone as if it were a portal to another universe, one that did not include the room he was in, or the future that lay before him. He finally managed to say, "Ansa, I love you very much, and I'm so glad you're my daughter ...but will you wait a few days before you come here?"

"Pappa, I love you so much. Okay, Grandpa Magnus and I will wait two days, but we will come there ...I promise ..."

The cell phone beeped, signaling that his minutes were about to end, and before Niklas could say another word, the cell phone died. He stared at it -his portal to the other world that was his daughter, his homeland, was gone.

He placed the dead cell phone back in his shirt pocket and lay on the bed, turning himself away from the toilet towards the cell door. The springs on the bed sagged menacingly close to the cold concrete floor.

Looking at the small window, he could see shapes drift by -people perhaps, or maybe cars, he couldn't be sure. The shapes deflected the sunlight for the briefest of moments and then they were gone.

He thought about Ansa and his grandfather making the long trip to see him and what condition he would be in when they arrived. He was sure of one thing: he knew he would cry when he saw them.

The light grew dim outside. Night was falling. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a troubled sleep. He was still in his cell, consumed with the ominous knowledge that many more days would become months then years of a similar fate. Then the door opened, water rushed in, and he was swimming.

The water was clean, and then there it was -the taste of salt, of the ocean. The moon rose, and a myriad of stars shone overhead. Shapes moved towards him from the horizon, and he instinctively knew what they were.

"Dolphins!"

The dolphins closed in on him quickly. They splashed their fins and greeted him with what he knew were cries of joy and welcome. He grabbed the fin of the lead, and it started speeding away, with the others keeping pace. They dived.

Niklas held his breath and let go of the dolphin's fin. A moment later, he flexed his powerful tail and came alongside the lead dolphin. He was transformed again. He was a dolphin in his dreams.

He and the dolphins rose to the surface as one, taking in air. Their blowholes expelled and sucked in air in one motion, and then they dived down to the seabed. Niklas could hear the pod's sounds, the conversations. The dolphins discussed not just what they saw, but the joy of what they were seeing. They discussed the joy of being alive.

Canyons of rock and coral lay before them, and they investigated each one. They swam with schools of fish, annoyed some sea turtles, and scared away some bothersome sharks. The pod was tireless in its movement.

Then the dolphins came upon a small boat. A sliver of moonlight shone through the clouds, forming a spotlight around it. They were attracted to it, and they swam around and around it. Niklas swam up too, and then popped his head up and looked into the boat.

Two people looked back at him, smiling and waving. One of them reached out to take his beak and hold it. It was Maria.

Then Niklas heard a loud clanging, and he pulled his head away from Maria. She smiled at him, waved, and yelled something -he couldn't hear what it was.

He woke up. He was in his cell. The door was opening.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

VAMOSE.

Niklas sat up and swung his feet onto the floor, rubbing his eyes. The stench hit him along with his despair and formed a wad of phlegm in the back of his throat he badly wanted to discharge.

The door of the cell clanged more violently and jarred back and forth. Someone was trying to open the door, and it was resisting due to a poor fit or metal that had rusted in the humid Caribbean air.

After several more clangs and wrenches, the door swung open. The tall, skinny guard and the short, fat one stood at the entrance to the cell. The tall one looked in, smiled at Niklas, and motioned for him to come out. "Vamose."

Niklas had no idea what time it was. It still looked dark outside. He wondered if Mexican lawyers started early, or if the commandant wanted to see him to demand more information. He decided he might as well get into the habit of doing whatever was asked of him and follow wherever he was led. I must get used to this new life of prison.

He walked in front of them down the hallways that were still dimly lit, pa.s.sing dark prison cells with sleeping occupants. The guards talked in whispers, treading quietly. Niklas was confused as to what could be so important before dawn.

After walking down several corridors, they reached the loading dock. Niklas thought they might be moving him to another prison. He could not comprehend how much worse the new prison could be than the one he was in but figured he would find out.

As they approached the interior door of the loading dock, the short guard motioned him to stop. He poked his head in and looked both ways. The guards hugged the wall, and gestured for him to do the same. Then the tall one motioned to the CCTV camera that they were just out of sight of. Niklas was confused.

When they got to the large door that led outside, the tall one punched some controls. A motor groaned as the door rose slowly, as if protesting the early morning. When the door had opened fully, Niklas noticed a single van parked in front with an outside light shining on it. The van was light blue, with a logo of bubbles and the words Limpieza y Mantenimiento. Niklas's knowledge of Spanish was rudimentary, but he knew enough to know it was a cleaning and maintenance van from the logo.

The back door of the van swung open, and a square-framed man yelled, "Come!" At the same time, both guards whispered in almost hissing sounds, "Vamos, Vamos."

Niklas got the message. Hugging the wall, he approached the van, grabbed the man's hand, and jumped inside. The door slammed, and the van took off. It was then that Niklas recognized the man who had helped him into the van.

"My G.o.d! Tepeu!" Niklas yelled.

"Yes, Senor Niklas, I'm so sorry we took so long, but we had to make preparations for your rescue." Tepeu smiled and pounded Niklas's shoulder.

"How did you get me out of there?" Niklas asked. He was squatting on a bucket, and his feet rested between various mops and brooms. The aroma of urinal blocks and disinfectants filled the air. The smell was wonderful.

"Ah, the dolphins told us how to get you out," Tepeu said. He perched himself on boxes of garbage bags across from Niklas and held on to him as the van rocked over the curb and into the quiet morning of Cancun. In minutes the police station was far behind them.

"The dolphins told you?"

"Si, yes, they told us to bribe the guards just like we bribe dolphins with fish to do tricks. They told us with a big enough fish, you can get a man to do any trick you want. See, they were right. They let you go." Tepeu slapped Niklas on the leg to make his point.

Niklas balanced himself on the soap bucket, and the realization of what had just happened dawned on him. He reached forward and grabbed Tepeu's hand. "But now I'm a fugitive, an escaped criminal. How will I ever get back to Finland? They have my pa.s.sport." Reality hit home. He felt a wave pa.s.s over him. The wave was fear, indecision. Should I return to prison?

Tepeu took both of Niklas's hands in his and held his gaze. "My friend, we have a new pa.s.sport for you. If you want to return to your home someday, perhaps you can, but not for some time. The Mexican government wants to make an example of you. The prosecutor wants you to serve ten to fifteen years. Your government in Finland did not object. Senor Acan is very grateful for what you did, and he has made a new home you. Be patient, my friend, relax. We are taking you there now." Tepeu released Niklas's hands and yelled to the driver of the van to speed up.

The van lurched forward, and Niklas grabbed on to the soap bucket with both hands. "So, I can never go home?"

Tepeu smiled again. "Senor Niklas, relax, wait and see what we have for you. You'll be very happy."

Niklas sat back in the van. He felt his life was not his own anymore. What part of my life is now a dream? He wondered. This one, where I'm awake, or the one where the dolphins take me through the magic of their world at night?

The van slowed to a stop. Niklas could hear Mexican voices outside talking to the driver. Tepeu motioned for him to be quiet and mouthed, "Policia." Everything in Niklas went quiet. He tried to quiet his racing heart, which sounded like a large bra.s.s drum in his ears.

After a few tense moments, the van moved on and soon slowed to a stop again. He could hear airplanes flying overhead. Then the back door opened, and when Niklas's eyes had adjusted to the early light, he saw Maria, motioning for him to step down and into her arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

FLIGHT OF THE DESPERADOS.

Niklas stepped out of the van and almost collapsed into Maria's arms. Never had another human being felt so good to him. He had not known if he would ever see her again, and now here she was - almost as real as the dream of her this morning.

Maria reached up and pulled his face to hers in a long, warm kiss that renewed his very core and ignited a fire in his heart. The despair and fear vanished.

She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes. "You see, the Mayan G.o.ds smiled on us. First they helped us set the dolphins free, and then they helped us release you." She touched his cheek. "Last night, the Mayan G.o.ddess of the moon told me she would free you -she let me dream of you."