BETA STILL WANTED Rafael dead. ‘The only good guerrillero is a dead guerrillero,’ he said. But I insisted we radio in the capture of an enemy soldier to Trigeño.
When our platoon arrived at Hacienda Díaz, Trigeño’s helicopter was already parked next to the bullet-pocked farmhouse. Trigeño had disembarked and Alfa 1 was standing beside him. They’d flown down that morning from La 35 to drop the warning leaflets. Beta and I talked to them near the spot where I’d killed Zorrillo. Bullet casings and glittering shards of mirror from Fabián’s destroyed Mercedes were littered across the grass.
Beta recounted the details of our operation, recommending that Rafael be turned over to his intelligence team. But after our recent successes, Trigeño was in a compassionate mood.
‘Get this boy’s story,’ he ordered. ‘Investigate it thoroughly. If it checks out, he can join the Autodefensas.’
‘What?’ cried Beta in utter disbelief. ‘You made the law yourself. Captured enemy get killed. No forgiveness. No exceptions.’
‘This one wasn’t captured. He isn’t even a deserter. He’s a defector. We pay him cash for the rifle he brought. He gets no weapon for a month. When we trust him fully, give it back to him and he’s one of us.’
Alfa 1 and Beta were on the verge of mutiny; there was no way they’d ever accept a member of the enemy standing beside their own loyal men.
Trigeño’s new policy, however, was both logical and strategic. Rafael had brought his own rifle, and he was already battle-savvy, which would save us money and training time. His joining our ranks meant one more soldier for us and one fewer for the enemy – an advantage of two. And he was highly motivated – apparently, conditions in the Guerrilla were appalling. Rafael was grateful to be alive and pleased he’d eventually be doing a similar job to before, only he’d get paid for it and also be permitted to take leave. He knew enemy trails, supply routes, radio codes, commanders’ habits and their camps’ locations.
He could identify milicianos in the river villages. And, because he was an orphan, he wouldn’t need to conceal his identity with a balaclava to prevent reprisals against his family. Besides, he wanted the Guerrilla to know he’d changed sides. The psychological blow to his former camaradas would be immense. And it would also extend a small olive branch to the foot soldiers of our enemy. Guerrilleros knew when we captured them that a gruesome death ensued. But now there was an alternative: changing sides. Trigeño was a long-term thinker. In the bigger picture, a single defection was far more damaging to the Guerrilla than any number of losses in combat.
In time, Rafael would go on to become a trusted and valuable Autodefensa commander. His defection inspired dozens more. The conversion of enemies into allies was pure genius by Trigeño and also the high-tide mark of my surging wave of esteem for him.
Although this war is to the death, he was saying, in effect, everyone has a choice and no one has to die.
According to Rafael, Buitre was still at large, roaming the dense jungles we’d just trekked through. He had multiple camps and never announced to underlings which one he’d visit next. This would make locating him difficult. However, he did know Buitre’s real name – Kiko Fuentes – and that he had a brother in a town called Barrancabermeja, who had blond hair and worked as a mechanic. That was sufficient for Trigeño to give the next order to Alfa 1.
‘Call the Northern Bloque commander. Get them to find Buitre’s brother!’