The sun wasn’t up yet, but it was light enough to see everything in the flat-bottomed canyon below as he crouched with La Paloma in the brush above. The mine was part open cast and part tunnel, he could see. They’d dug the ore until the vertical overhang was a high cliff, then ran two shafts in, following the vein. He could see the layers of sandstone and gray schist on the quarried cliff across the way. He only had an educated layman’s grasp of mining, but he knew that the sandstone was dross and that the good stuff was mixed with the glittery gray schist. It looked a lot like granite, but it was much softer. The property around the mine was fenced. The fence was wicked-looking barbed wire and enclosed an area the size of two football fields. There were sheet metal buildings and a loading tinple over a rail spur that ran from the nationalized mine to the nearby main line. Two soldiers, with slung rifles stood chatting by the wire mesh gate. There was a guard tower at each corner of the fence.
He asked La Paloma, “Do they have anybody posted on top of that cliff across the canyon?”
She said, “No. Why should they? Nobody can jump down from such a distance. Why should they have guards over there?”
He said, “Never mind. I can see they’re bush league. They just put a few guys on guard after they took the property over.”
“Does that mean it will be easy for us to take, querido?”
“Nothing’s easy. They probably have machine guns, or at least repeating rifles, in those towers. They’re within range of the edge over there, too. Do they have the place illuminated at night?”
“Of course. Those new Edison bulbs.”
“Yeah, I see the lights on the fence posts, now. That little building with the chimney must be the generator plant. Let’s see – that tin shack near the gate is new. That’ll be the guardhouse.”
The earth quivered under them and La Paloma gasped. He listened for the muffled boom and said, “That’ll be the night shift, blasting. It sounds like they’ve driven pretty deep. The day crew will be coming soon to muck out the shattered ore and load it on that conveyor belt beyond the tipple. It’s a pretty standard operation, except for the fence and guards. Do you know any of the workmen?”
She nodded. “Si, some men from my barrio were drafted by the government for to dig in the mine. They fired some of the old workers. Others ran away. The soldados keep hitting people and accusing them of theft.”
“Yeah, the original emerald find petered out and they need chromium like they need sawdust. Let’s go. It’s getting light and I’ve seen all there is to see.”
As they crawled over the ridge through the brush she asked, “When do we attack, querido?”
He said, “I’m working on that. Some guys have been very cute with me. What’s going on further up the canyon? I spotted a rusty railroad spur winding around the CCC property.”
She said, “Oh, they used the rails for to build the dam, years ago.”
“There’s a dam up around the bend? How far and, more important, how big?”
She said, “It is over a 100 ilometre, querido. It is one of the city reservoirs, full of water for to drink.”
“Hmm, a flood would do it. Is the dam concrete or earthworks?”
“Concrete, querido. Why do you ask?”
“I’m sorry I did. There went a great idea. Takes a lot of dynamite to blow a modern concrete dam. We’d better put that on a back burner for now.”
It was safe to walk openly now, so they did, moving hand in hand so that anyone who saw them would take them for strolling lovers, coming back from making love in the bushes. He could see Bogotá spread out before them now. He got his bearings and said, “We’d better split up. I’d attract attention in the favela and you’re informally dressed for the expensive part of town. We’ll save time if we each beeline down the slopes to our own destinations. Go back to your place and wait for me, okay?”
“If you say so, querido. You are going for to get some dynamite, no?”
“Maybe. I’m after some answers, too. I’ll try to get back to you just after sundown. Go with God, kitten.”
But she clung to his hand and said, “So long a time away from one another? I was hoping, when we got back to my place, I could make you breakfast, and perhaps please you in other ways.”
He sighed and said, “Me too. You’re sort of like eating peanuts at that.” He looked around. They were all alone, surrounded by acres of thick brush. He grinned and said, “Hell, I’m not in that much of a hurry!”
As he kissed her and lowered her to the sloping hillside, La Paloma gasped, “Deek, we can’t!”
“Sure we can.”
As he fumbled at his own belt, she giggled and said, “Oh, maybe we can, after all.”
~*~
“Merde alors!” Gaston exclaimed. “I have heard of wheels within wheels, but this is too much! First you say the Divine dog-fucker is a German spy. Now Liza is a British counterspy. What is all this femininity? Why use women in the first place?”
Captain Gringo had been thinking on this and answered Gaston. “I think Rowena was sent to knock off Senator Vargas before he could grab that German mica mine. Liza, of course, came up to make sure the Colombians did grab a source of electrical insulation that the Germans need. I don’t think either side cares about Uncle Sam’s sideshow. They’re too busy with each other. Everybody would prefer doing business in a stable country, but the powers let the U.S. play policeman on this side of the pond.”
Gaston asked, “But how could Liza keep Rowena from assassinating anyone? She left town before Rowena was introduced to the idiot at the embassy, non?”
“Right. Liza probably knew Rowena was a German agent. That’s why she was so cold to her. But the Brits knew nothing could save Vargas, once the Germans had him marked for death. If they’d stopped Rowena, the Kaiser would have sent somebody else. Liza’s mission was to make sure than no matter who was running what, the German holdings would be nationalized. The reason they sent a woman was simple. A man can’t hide anything up his snatch.”
“Are you serious? Did you look?”
Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “I didn’t have to. I haven’t the time or the indelicacy, but take my word for it.”
“Oh, mon pauvre, I thought you were getting some of that!”
“I was, at the oddest times, and vice versa. It must make a girl sort of sexually moody, wandering around with a diplomatic pouch inside her all day along.”
He checked the chambers of his gun, put it away, and said, “Okay, see you in Buenaventura.”
“All right, mon vieux, but where are you going now?”
“The German Embassy, of course. Can’t you figure anything out for yourself?”