Before we could reach Teresa, they skinny bearded man guided her to a panel van. She stepped into it—apparently willingly, but I could see her stagger and nearly bump her head, as if she were sleepwalking. Then the skinny man slammed the door shut after her, climbed in through the driver’s door, and started the engine. The van pulled away, its blaring horn parting the crowd. It found a relatively clear side street and quickly picked up speed, leaving Rafael and I sucking exhaust as we at last burst out of the crowded plaza.