by Tom Epperson
The colonel turns back to Roberto, lifting his eyebrows a little and giving a slight shake of his head as if to say: See what I have to put up with?
“What’s your name?” he says.
“Antonio Rios.”
“And yours?” he says to Lina.
“Carmen Higuera.”
“Are there others with you?”
“No,” says Roberto. “Just us.”
“What are you doing in El Encanto?”
Roberto’s glad Lina answers first.
“I was trying to get a boat for him,” she says, with a nod toward Roberto. “I found him wandering in the jungle this morning. He’d gotten in some trouble.”
The colonel looks at Roberto with polite interest. “What sort of trouble?”
“I’m an anthropologist. I came to Tulcán a few days ago, I’m studying the Indians in this region.”
“Are you an academic?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you teach?”
“The University of Lima.”
“I’m an academic myself. On sabbatical, you might say.”
“What field are you in?” Roberto asks. Hoping the answer is not anthropology.
“I’m a law professor.”
Roberto nods. He repeats to himself: Be calm, be calm, be calm.
“You know,” says the colonel, “there’s no reason to be afraid. As long as you’re telling the truth.”
“Yes, I know. It’s just that I’ve never been in a situation like this,” and Roberto glances back at his bound hands.
The colonel shrugs. “It’s war. It turns everything topsy-turvy. So you were telling me how you got into trouble.”
“I was trying to find a particular group of Indians, no anthropologist has ever contacted them before.”
“What tribe?”
“O’wa.”
“Continue.”
“I hired two brothers in Tarapacá as guides. They were half O’wa, they spoke the language and said they actually knew the group I was looking for. But my guess is it was all a ruse from the beginning. Once we got into the jungle, they robbed me at gunpoint, they took everything I had, billfold, credit cards, camera, cellphone—”
“How come they didn’t take your money?”
“They didn’t know it was there. There was also money in my billfold.”
“Continue.”
“They also took my compass, which meant I couldn’t find my way out. I wandered around lost for three days with no food and hardly any sleep. Thank god Carmen found me or I’m sure I’d still be out there.”
The colonel turns to Lina. “What was a heavily armed girl doing in the jungle? Hunting?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I was hunting for my lost dog.”
Lina looks the way she always looks. But Roberto knows she must be as scared as he is.
“How was your dog lost?” asks the colonel.
“I live on a cattle ranch about ten kilometers from here with my father and three brothers. A jaguar’s been killing our cattle, so my brothers went out looking for it. They took Rufo with them because he’s a great tracker. They promised to bring back the skin of the jaguar, but they came back yesterday with no jaguar skin and no Rufo. They said he’d run away. Rufo is really my dog, I’ve raised him from a puppy, and I was very angry with my brothers for leaving him. So I went out this morning to look for him, and I found Antonio instead.”
“You went out alone?”
“Yes. This is my home, I’ve lived here all my life. I’m not afraid of the jungle.”
“Colonel!”
It’s Chávez. He’s wearing only soggy clinging green underwear, and is dripping water as he approaches proudly with Lina’s rifle in one hand and her pistol in the other.
“I found them!” he says, and he hands them to the colonel.
“And the cellphone?”
“I couldn’t find it.”
“Back in the water, Chávez. With the piraña.”
Not looking too happy, Chávez walks to the railing and vaults over it. He splashes water on one of the other men, who curses Chávez. The colonel’s looking over Lina’s weapons.
“Do you always go armed like Rambo when you go looking for a lost dog?”
“I said I wasn’t afraid of the jungle, I didn’t say I was a fool. The jungle’s full of predators, both animal and human. I believe in being prepared.”
“This is an Israeli rifle. A Galil. It’s what the Army uses. Where did you get it?”
Lina shrugs. “My father bought it, I have no idea where. It’s no problem buying any gun in this country if you have the money. I’m sure you know that.”
“Maybe you got the rifle off a dead soldier.”
“No. Of course not.”
The colonel hands the rifle and the pistol to the sergeant.
“We use the Kalashnikov,” he says. “Perhaps it’s not as ‘sexy’ as some of the newer weapons, but it’s proved itself in combat all over the world,” and then he smiles at Roberto.
“You work fast, Antonio!”
“I’m sorry,” says Roberto. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you just met this girl this morning, and then five minutes ago, you had her in your arms. Are you sure you haven’t known her longer than a few hours?”
“Colonel, I promise you, we just met.”
“Like I said. You work fast,” and now he looks at Lina. “You immediately went for your weapon when you saw us. If Antonio hadn’t stopped you, there would have been a very bad outcome for both of you. Why did you do that?”
“I saw strange men coming out of the jungle with guns. I was afraid for my life. I was afraid of being raped.”
“Why did you throw your cellphone in the water?”
“I have private information stored on my phone. Would you want strangers looking through your phone?”
“Perhaps the private information has to do with other members of the TARV. Their names, their phone numbers, maybe their photographs—”
Lina gives an incredulous laugh. “You think I’m with the TARV? I hate them even more than—”
She stops herself.
“Than you hate us?” the colonel says. “Do you know who we are?”
Lina’s eyes flicker toward the black jaguar patch on the colonel’s sleeve.
“I have an idea.”
“I suggest you have no idea who we are. It’s the terrorists that have turned Tulcán into an inferno, not us. Why do you hate the TARV?”
“They’re always coming by our ranch, stealing our cattle—or ‘requisitioning supplies for the revolution,’ as they call it. They try to get my brothers to join them, they make veiled threats, ‘if you’re not with us you’re against us,’ that kind of thing. My family produces high-quality beef, it goes to fine restaurants all over this country, people serve it in their houses. What we’re doing is important and we shouldn’t be hounded by the TARV or by you. We just want to be left alone. My father’s a powerful man, he has connections. You have no right to detain us! I demand that you let us go!”
The colonel’s silent. He cocks his head a little to one side, studying Lina.
Amid the cries of birds and the chatter of monkeys, Roberto hears a sound that doesn’t fit: a phone ringing.
“Colonel Luna!”
One of his men is coming toward him, holding up a satellite phone.
“It’s him!” he says.
Colonel Luna takes the phone and moves onto the walkway out of earshot.
Roberto wonders who “he” is. Hernán 40? Now he and Lina look at each other. It feels terrible not to be able to talk.
Roberto looks at the stone tower rising above the trees. Are they still in the house? It’s obvious Colonel Luna doesn’t know they’re there. It’s also obvious there aren’t other Black Jaguars trying to capture them because they’d never allow themselves to be taken alive and Roberto would have heard the noise of a hell of a firefight. Maybe they heard the shot Lina fired, maybe that’s
why she fired it. He scans the trees. They could be out there right now watching him and Lina, and making plans to effect a rescue.
The zip ties are cutting into his wrists; he tries to move his hands and get some circulation going. He looks at Luna; he’s looking at Roberto and Lina as he talks on the sat phone, probably discussing them with “him.” Several of his men are wandering around the pavilion looking at the statues. One guy caresses the breasts of the mermaid as his buddy takes his picture with a cellphone. The dolphin with the huge dick elicits much joking and laughter.
The paramilitaries are young and fit-looking, and don’t really seem like the ragtag bunch of losers described by Lina. There’s one exception though: a fat guy who looks a decade older than the others and has a pale moonlike head under his black beret. Roberto wonders if he’s the fat Black Jaguar that peed against the tree Jota was hiding in. He’s standing next to a guy who’s much taller than everybody else, and has a remarkably ugly face, with a heavy caveman brow, thick lips, and a jutting jaw. They’re smoking cigarettes and appear to be discussing Lina. Now the tall ugly one walks over to her, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“Hey, angel,” he says. “Would you like a smoke?”
Lina gives him the briefest of glances.
“No thanks.”
“Maybe a drink of water?” he says, reaching for his canteen.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Okay. Suit yourself.”
He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, doing his best to be suave about it.
“Did you know you’re really beautiful?”
Lina doesn’t deign to answer.
“You look like a girl I used to fuck.”
Now Lina looks at him curiously.
“That’s surprising.”
“What?”
“That any girl would actually want to fuck you.”
This causes his fat friend to explode into laughter. “Hey, she got you, Vladimiro! She completely destroyed you!”
Vladimiro turns away from Lina with a bitter smile. Now he and the fat guy see the colonel has finished his call and is headed their way, and they drift over to the railing, next to the parrot statue.
“Just a few more questions,” says Colonel Luna, but now Chávez comes climbing out of the lake and over the railing.
“Colonel, I found it!” he says, waving Lina’s cellphone in the air. He hands it to Luna, who holds it up and watches water draining out.
“Probably ruined,” he says.
“They say you can pack a wet cellphone in dry rice for three days,” says Chávez, “and it will come back to life.”
“Like Jesus?” Now the colonel looks at Lina. “Why didn’t you just take Antonio back to your ranch when you found him, if he was really in such dire straits? Why bring him to El Encanto?”
“We were actually closer to El Encanto than the ranch,” says Lina. “And this is where he wanted to come anyway, so he could get a boat to leave Tulcán. But when we got here, everyone was gone. We were just about to go to Santa Rosa del Opón when you arrived. So do you know what happened to everyone? Where’s Juan Carlos Mejía?”
“So you knew Mejía?”
“Yes, we’ve been neighbors for many years.”
“If you’re such good neighbors, why don’t you know what happened here last week?”
“Being neighbors in the jungle isn’t the same as being neighbors in the city. You can’t just drop by for a cup of coffee. And what did happen here? Is Juan Carlos all right?”
“He’s dead, along with everyone else in El Encanto. And if you’d gone to Santo Rosa del Opón, you would have found it a ghost town. Its residents have been evacuated by the Army for their own protection.”
“But what happened?” says Roberto.
“That’s what I’m here to find out. But the massacre is believed to have been carried out by the TARV,” and he looks at Lina. “Apparently they were making the same sort of threats against Mejía as they’ve been making against your family. I’d like to take a formal statement from you as part of my investigation.”
“I’ll help in any way I can, of course,” says Lina. “Poor Juan Carlos. I can’t believe he’s dead.”
There’s a silence. Colonel Luna has a sort of benignly blank look on his face.
“Now maybe you can take these off?” says Lina, referring to the plastic cuffs.
“I have just another question or two for Antonio,” says Luna, and now he turns his cool blue-gray eyes on Roberto. “So there was a travel ban issued a few days ago. No one is allowed to enter Tulcán unless authorized by the Army. Did you obtain that authorization?”
“No, Colonel, I didn’t. To be honest, I did hear something about it in Tarapacá when I was making the final preparations for my trip, but I decided to go ahead. What I’m doing has nothing to do with politics, I couldn’t care less about any of that. I didn’t expect to see anyone except the O’wa.”
“By your presence here, you’re in violation of the law.”
“I understand. I made a mistake. I’m prepared to leave immediately. Actually, I can’t get out of here fast enough.”
Luna chuckles. “Sergeant? Release this man.”
The sergeant pulls a knife from its sheath, steps behind Roberto, and cuts the cuffs. Roberto feels a wave of relief wash over him, he can’t believe he and Lina have talked themselves out of this. He looks at Lina as he rubs his wrists. She gives him a tentative smile.
“It’s been interesting meeting you, Antonio,” the colonel says, and extends his hand. Roberto takes it. The colonel shakes his hand with a very firm grip.
“Just one more question.”
“Yes?”
“What is the name of the god of the O’wa?”
Roberto’s heart skips a beat, or maybe adds an extra one. His mouth opens a little, but no word comes out. Luna’s eyes are boring into his. He slides his hand down to Roberto’s wrist, and squeezes it hard, as with his other hand he grasps Roberto’s little finger. He begins to bend it back. Roberto gasps, and sinks to his knees. With a quick movement the colonel snaps the bone, and it’s like lightning flashes in front of Roberto’s eyes and it’s the loudest scream he’s ever screamed. He feels dizzy and his face is hot and suddenly he leans over and vomits.
Colonel Luna looks down at him dispassionately.
“That’s just one little bone. The body’s full of bones. We’ll break them all and take our time doing it if you don’t start telling us the truth.”
Roberto looks up at him. “What do you want to know?”
“Your real name and what you’re doing here.”
“I’m Antonio Alvarado. I’m with an NGO called the South American Center for Human Rights. I came to investigate reports of a massacre in El Encanto. But everything else I told you is true. I really was robbed by my guides and left in the jungle. Carmen found me this morning, and agreed to bring me here. She’s done nothing wrong, please let her return to her family.”
“Nobody’s returning anywhere at the moment. Get up.”
Roberto gets to his feet. He still feels dizzy and pain throbs through his hand. He glances at Lina and he feels ashamed about the vomit and the screaming and he glimpses the fear in her face. The sergeant pulls his arms behind his back and puts on a new pair of plastic cuffs. He jostles Roberto’s broken finger and he stifles a cry.
Colonel Luna stands in front of Roberto in a self-consciously powerful pose, hands on hips, his gleaming boots set wide apart. The law professor pretending to be the determined jungle warrior.
“There are three possibilities. You are both telling the truth. You are both lying. One is telling the truth, and one is lying. In any case, it will take some time to sort this out. Our commander will be here tomorrow. He wishes to interview each of you personally.”
Now Luna turns and starts to walk away.
“Colonel?” says Roberto. The colonel pauses and looks back. “Do you know?”
“Know what?”
<
br /> “The O’wa word for God.”
The colonel smiles slightly.
“Tamoi. I suggest you pray to him. Or to some other god of your choosing.”
* * *
The day is ending. The birds and monkeys are going quiet. Fireflies decorate the dusk. Roberto and Lina walk with bound hands under the fruit trees with the Black Jaguars.
Roberto’s ahead of Lina and still can’t talk to her. They’re moving toward the house. He sees the tower silhouetted against the fading sky. And Daniel, Quique, Roque, Ernesto . . . where are they? They have to know by now what’s happened. They’re somewhere out there hiding, deciding what to do. Calculating the odds. Four of them and about thirty paramilitaries. But Roque’s armed only with a machete and Daniel with his silly little pistol so it’s really thirty against two. No matter how formidable Quique and Ernesto are and what poor excuses for fighters the Black Jaguars may be, the odds are still long, virtually suicidal. But Roberto knows there’s not a chance in the world they won’t be coming for Lina and him.
He assumes they’re being taken to the house, but as they’re passing the guesthouse, everybody stops. He sees Colonel Luna talking to the sergeant. They both glance his and Lina’s way. Now the sergeant leaves the colonel.
“Ramirez, Mojica, Chávez, Chino, Falconi,” says the sergeant, “come with me! And bring the prisoners!”
Colonel Luna and the rest of his men continue toward the house, as the sergeant and his guys take Roberto and Lina into the guesthouse. The air’s hot and stuffy. What light there is comes in through the windows. Roberto sees the same sort of French and Italian furnishings that he saw in the main house. The guys take off their packs. One of them is the fat Black Jaguar, and he plops down in an armchair with a sigh.
“I could get used to this,” he says. “Somebody turn on the TV.”
“Yeah, let’s get the power on,” says a guy with a snake tattoo winding around his neck. “I don’t want to sit here in the fucking dark all night.”
“We’re on an operation,” says the sergeant, “not on vacation at a resort. The colonel says if the prisoners try to escape, shoot them. Otherwise, leave them alone. Especially the girl. Are you listening to me, Chino?”