Guillermo's Crossing

Sarah Patel's knuckles whitened around the handle of her carry-on as she shuffled through the "Nothing to Declare" line at Heathrow Terminal 5. Three days in Barcelona had left her with chapped lips, a phone full of cathedral photos, and a secret nestled between her chemistry textbook and a crumpled Barcelona FC jersey.

The queue inched forward beneath fluorescent lights that somehow made everyone look simultaneously washed-out and suspicious. A customs officer with a German Shepherd patrolled the edges of the line, the dog's nails clicking against the polished floor.

Sarah adjusted her backpack, feeling the weight shift. The small creature inside had barely moved during the flight. She'd wrapped it in her softest jumper and punched air holes in the inner pocket. According to a panicked Google search at 30,000 feet, Mediterranean spur-thighed tortoises could survive without food for days. Still, guilt gnawed at her.

"Next."

Sarah stepped forward to a uniformed man whose name badge read "Nigel Whitfield, Border Force Officer."

"Passport please."

She handed it over, hoping her hammering heart wasn't visible through her Barcelona FC hoodie.

"Purpose of your visit to Spain?"

"Just a weekend break. Before uni starts."

Officer Whitfield glanced at her backpack. "Any purchases to declare? Alcohol? Tobacco? Food items?"

"No, just some souvenirs." Sarah's voice caught on the last word. The backpack seemed to grow heavier.

Officer Whitfield's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Would you mind placing your bag on the conveyor for screening?"

"Do I have to? I'm already late meeting my dad outside."

"Standard procedure, miss."

Sarah reluctantly placed her backpack on the belt, watching it disappear into the X-ray machine. The customs officer's eyes fixed on the monitor, then hardened.

"Miss, I'll need you to step aside for additional screening."

Sarah's stomach dropped. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Just a routine check." Officer Whitfield gestured to a small examination room. "This way, please."

Inside the sterile white room, he unzipped her backpack and carefully removed her belongings until he reached the jumper. When he unwrapped it, the tortoise's ancient eyes blinked sleepily in the harsh light.

"Well, well." Officer Whitfield's voice was dangerously soft. "What have we here?"

---

Daniel Morris had worked for UK Border Force for seventeen years, seven months, and twelve days. In that time, he'd intercepted everything from cocaine-stuffed teddy bears to rare orchids sewn into coat linings. But nothing quite annoyed him like entitled teenagers who thought rules were merely suggestions.

"You do realize," he said, adjusting his glasses, "that importing animals without proper documentation is a serious offense under the Animal Health Act 1981?"

The girl—Sarah, according to her passport—sat across from him, her shoulders hunched. The tortoise had been placed in a plastic container with air holes, now sitting on a side table.

"I didn't think it would be such a big deal," she murmured. "It's just a tortoise."

"Just a tortoise?" Daniel felt his blood pressure rise. "This is a *Testudo graeca*, a Mediterranean spur-thighed tortoise. It's CITES Appendix II listed. Do you know what that means?"

When she shook her head, he continued: "The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species strictly regulates their transport across borders. Post-Brexit, these regulations are now enforced with additional UK-specific requirements under Statutory Instrument 2020/1590."

He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "Furthermore, this particular specimen appears to have limestone growths containing potentially invasive microorganisms. Section 14 of the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 prohibits the release of non-native species that could threaten our ecosystem."

The girl's lower lip trembled. "I didn't know."

"Ignorance of the law is not a defense, Miss Patel. Now, why don't you tell me where you got this animal?"

Sarah stared at her hands. "I found him in Park Güell. He was just wandering around, and I thought—"

"You thought you'd simply take a wild animal from its natural habitat?"

"He didn't look wild. I thought maybe someone had abandoned him."

Daniel sighed, typing notes into his computer. "Miss Patel, smuggling protected wildlife carries penalties up to seven years imprisonment and unlimited fines under the Customs and Excise Management Act 1979."

Her eyes widened. "Seven years? But I—"

"Additionally," he continued, warming to his subject, "the limestone encrustation on the shell contains *Aspergillus sydowii*, a fungal species endemic to Mediterranean coastal regions that could potentially disrupt local ecosystems."

"How can you possibly know that just by looking?"

"I've been doing this job since before you were born, Miss Patel. I've seen cases exactly like this."

The tortoise stretched its wrinkled neck, seemingly unimpressed by the proceedings.

"Now," Daniel said, "explain to me why you decided to smuggle this animal through customs without declaring it."

---

Sarah couldn't believe this was happening. Three days ago, she'd been a normal A-level graduate celebrating her acceptance to Imperial College. Now she was being interrogated like a criminal.

"I've always wanted a tortoise," she said, her voice small. "When I was little, my grandmother in Mumbai had one. I used to feed it hibiscus flowers."

"So this is a family tradition, then? Illegal wildlife trafficking?"

"No! That's not what I meant."

Daniel checked his watch. "Miss Patel, I have six cases waiting after yours. Either give me a straightforward explanation, or we can escalate this to formal charges right now."

Sarah inhaled deeply. "Look, I know it was stupid. I saw him crossing a path, all alone. There were tourists everywhere, nearly stepping on him. I just... picked him up to move him somewhere safe, and then I got attached."

"And the decision to smuggle him through international borders?"

"I researched tortoises on the flight. They can live for over a hundred years. I thought about all the paperwork it would take to do this properly, and I figured... just this once..."

Daniel's mouth thinned to a line. "Just this once, you'd break international conservation law?"

"When you put it that way—"

"There is no other way to put it, Miss Patel." He gestured to the tortoise. "This animal belongs to a protected species. The calcium deposits on its shell indicate it's at least forty years old—older than me. It has survived Franco's regime, Spain's transition to democracy, and its entry into the European Union. And you decided, on a whim, that it should experience Brexit Britain."

Sarah felt tears threatening. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't unbreak laws, Miss Patel. Let's start again. Who helped you with this?"

"Nobody helped me."

"You expect me to believe you orchestrated this entirely on your own? A teenager with no previous customs violations?"

"Yes! I didn't think it through. I made a mistake."

Daniel examined her passport again. "You're eighteen, correct? Legally an adult. Full culpability."

"Yes."

"And your purpose in Barcelona?"

"Like I said, just a weekend trip before university starts. My gap year is ending."

"A gap year?" Daniel's eyebrows rose. "Spent where?"

Sarah hesitated. "Mostly in Europe. I was working as an au pair in France, then volunteered at a marine conservation center in Greece."

"So you were aware of conservation issues."

"Yes, but—"

"So you knew better."

Sarah looked at the tortoise, who was now attempting to climb the plastic wall of its temporary container. "His name is Guillermo."

"Naming it doesn't make it legal, Miss Patel."

---

An hour into the interrogation, Sarah had told Daniel about her entire gap year—the French family she'd lived with in Marseille, the marine conservation work in Crete, her brief romance with a Greek diving instructor named Nikos.

"I still don't see how this relates to the tortoise," she said finally.

"I'm establishing a pattern of behavior," Daniel replied, typing furiously. "Your extended time in EU countries indicates potential for broader wildlife trafficking networks."

"That's ridiculous! I volunteered with sea turtles. I was protecting animals, not trafficking them."

"Yet here we are." Daniel gestured to Guillermo, who had given up his escape attempts and retreated into his shell.

"Can I at least give him some water?" Sarah asked.

"The animal will be transferred to wildlife specialists shortly."

Sarah's phone vibrated in her pocket—probably her father, waiting outside. Daniel noticed.

"Is someone expecting you?"

"My dad. He's picking me up."

"Perhaps we should invite him to join us. He might be interested to learn about your activities."

Sarah paled. "Please don't. He doesn't know anything about this."

"Then I suggest complete honesty moving forward." Daniel pushed his glasses up again. "Let's discuss the limestone formations on the tortoise shell. Were you aware they contain protected mineral specimens?"

"What? No, it's just a shell!"

"This particular tortoise has been living in an area rich in quartz-veined limestone. The accretions on its carapace include specimens that fall under the EU Geological Heritage Site protections, specifically directive 2009/147/EC."

"You're making that up."

Daniel's expression hardened. "Miss Patel, I am a certified expert in cross-border biological transport regulations. I completed specialized training in geological contraband identification last March."

The room felt increasingly small. Sarah's head spun with directives and regulations and Brexit complications. "I just wanted a pet," she whispered.

"What you wanted doesn't matter. What matters is that you've violated the Trust Relationship Agreement between the UK and EU regarding protected species transport, Section 17, paragraph 3."

Sarah stared at him. "That's not a real thing."

A muscle twitched in Daniel's jaw. "Are you questioning my expertise?"

"I think you're making up rules to scare me."

Daniel stood abruptly. "Wait here."

He left with the tortoise, the door closing with a definitive click.

---

Alone in the interrogation room, Sarah buried her face in her hands. How had a simple weekend trip ended like this? Her phone buzzed again—five missed calls from her father. She couldn't even text him without risk of further infuriating Officer Morris.

The tortoise. Poor Guillermo. She shouldn't have named him. Shouldn't have wrapped him in her cashmere jumper or whispered stories to him during the flight. Shouldn't have told him about Imperial College and her plans to study veterinary medicine.

The door opened, and Daniel returned with a taller, older woman.

"Miss Patel, this is Superintendent Helen Blackwood."

The woman wore a crisp uniform with more insignia than Daniel's. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled into a tight bun, but her eyes were surprisingly kind.

"Officer Morris has briefed me on your situation," she said, taking the seat Daniel had vacated. "He tells me you've been quite... evasive."

"I haven't! He keeps making up rules and—"

"Officer Morris is one of our most knowledgeable staff members regarding wildlife transport regulations," Superintendent Blackwood interrupted smoothly. "However, I understand this must be overwhelming for you."

Daniel stood at attention behind her, his satisfaction palpable.

"As Superintendent Blackwood can confirm," he began, "EU directive Xp1334 clearly states that—"

"Morris," she cut in, "would you mind checking on the wildlife specialist's ETA? And perhaps bringing Miss Patel some water?"

His face fell slightly. "But ma'am, I was just explaining—"

"That will be all for now, thank you."

When the door closed behind him, Superintendent Blackwood sighed. "Now, let's start fresh. Tell me about this tortoise."

Something about her tone—maternal yet firm—broke Sarah's remaining composure. The story spilled out: how she'd spent her gap year trying to find her place in the world, how lonely she'd felt coming back to Brexit Britain, how disconnected she felt from her childhood friends who'd all gone straight to university.

"I found Guillermo—the tortoise—crossing a busy path. Tourists nearly stepped on him. I just moved him to safety, but then..." Sarah wiped her eyes. "He looked up at me with these ancient eyes, like he knew things. Like he'd seen centuries come and go."

"And you wanted to bring him home."

"Yes. It sounds stupid now."

"Not stupid. Unwise, perhaps." Superintendent Blackwood studied her. "You mentioned you're starting at Imperial soon?"

"Veterinary science."

"Impressive." She glanced at Sarah's file. "Your gap year—the marine conservation work—that shows genuine concern for animals."

"I love them. Always have."

"Then you understand why we have these regulations? They protect creatures like your Guillermo."

Sarah nodded miserably. "What happens now? Will I go to prison?"

Superintendent Blackwood almost smiled. "I think Officer Morris may have... overstated certain consequences. While wildlife trafficking is indeed serious, first offenses with no evidence of commercial intent are typically handled differently."

"So... what happens to Guillermo?"

"He'll be examined by specialists and, if healthy, returned to Spain under a controlled repatriation program."

Sarah bit her lip. "And me?"

"That depends. Are there any other wildlife specimens in your luggage I should know about?"

"No, I swear."

Superintendent Blackwood studied her. "Miss Patel, I've been doing this job for twenty-six years. I can spot a hardened smuggler from a mistaken teenager."

The door opened and Daniel reappeared, carrying a plastic cup of water and looking distinctly put out.

"The wildlife specialist has arrived," he announced. "And I've prepared the paperwork for formal charges under section—"

"That won't be necessary, Morris," Superintendent Blackwood said, standing. "Miss Patel will be issued a warning and educational materials on wildlife protection. The tortoise will be processed through normal channels."

Daniel's face reddened. "But ma'am, the regulations clearly—"

"I'm familiar with the regulations, thank you." Her tone brooked no argument. "Miss Patel has demonstrated remorse and understanding of her actions. There's no indication of commercial intent or connection to trafficking networks."

"But the limestone formations—"

"Are common enough in Mediterranean tortoises. Unless you have laboratory confirmation of protected mineral content?"

Daniel deflated slightly. "The tests haven't been run yet."

"Then we'll proceed as I've outlined." She turned to Sarah. "Miss Patel, you'll need to provide a written statement, then you're free to go. Consider this a learning experience—one that I hope will inform your future veterinary career."

---

Sarah sat in the terminal café across from her father, who was still processing everything she'd told him.

"You smuggled a tortoise? In your backpack?" Rajiv Patel's expression wavered between disbelief and amusement. "What were you thinking, beta?"

"I wasn't," Sarah admitted, warming her hands around a cup of tea. "It was impulsive."

"Not like you." He studied her face. "Everything okay? You seem... different since this gap year."

Sarah traced patterns in the condensation on the table. "I'm fine. Just... readjusting."

"To being home?"

"To everything. Britain feels different now. Everyone's so... insular."

Her father nodded slowly. "The referendum changed things. People built walls where there were once bridges."

"In Barcelona, I felt connected to something bigger. Here, it's all paperwork and regulations and borders."

"Like your tortoise."

"Exactly like Guillermo. He didn't care about borders or Brexit or customs forms. He just... existed." Sarah sipped her tea. "That officer—Morris—he kept quoting all these regulations like they were sacred texts."

"Some people find comfort in rules."

"His boss was different. Superintendent Blackwood. She saw beyond the regulations to the actual situation."

Through the café window, Sarah could see Officer Morris escorting a wildlife specialist carrying a small container. Guillermo, heading to whatever bureaucratic fate awaited tortoises caught in international incidents.

"Dad," she said suddenly, "do you think I made a mistake? Taking a gap year instead of going straight to uni?"

Rajiv Patel considered the question. "Do you feel it was a mistake?"

"No. I learned things I couldn't have learned in a classroom." Sarah watched Morris disappear around a corner. "I learned about connections that run deeper than paperwork."

Her father reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Then it wasn't a mistake."

Sarah's phone buzzed—a message from Nikos in Crete: *How was Barcelona? Did you bring me back a souvenir?*

She smiled despite herself. "You know, I might apply for that international conservation program after my first year. The one that partners with EU marine sanctuaries."

"More sea turtles?"

"Maybe. They're a lot like tortoises, just with better swimming skills."

Rajiv laughed. "And harder to fit in backpacks, I imagine."

As they gathered their things to leave, Sarah caught sight of Superintendent Blackwood watching from near the security checkpoint. The woman gave her a nearly imperceptible nod before turning away.

Sarah thought about Guillermo, heading back to Spain. She thought about herself, heading to Imperial College. Different journeys, but both returning to where they belonged—older, perhaps a little wiser, carrying the marks of their adventures on their shells.

"Ready to go home?" her father asked.

Sarah nodded, shouldering her now-lighter backpack. "Ready."