I WAS OVERJOYED to have Buitre almost within our sights. I had no idea how his brother, living in a faraway city, might be of use. Surely Buitre wouldn’t be stupid enough to visit him, even if he were allowed to. Nevertheless, the knowledge that Trigeño was dedicating significant resources from La Empresa to my personal quest made me feel special.
Once more, I felt we were progressing in leaps and bounds.
Trigeño flew back to La 50 with Alfa 1, Beta and Rafael, leaving me with a shoebox full of cash and orders to construct our local headquarters.
He’d given no specific instructions about what to do with Iván, the young boy whose father we’d killed, leaving it to my discretion. Iván never strayed far from Ñoño, trotting around after him with the grateful, adoring eyes of a rescued puppy.
When I suggested we try to find a family to adopt him, Ñoño rebelled. ‘Iván’s going nowhere,’ he said, snatching up the boy’s hand. ‘He’s already got a family, right here.’
Meanwhile, we set up camp at the old Díaz finca and began converting it into a proper base. Humberto Díaz’s former home was unliveable. Squatters had used the ground floor to shelter livestock; the carpets were soaked with pig and chicken faeces. But the caretaker’s cottage had fared better. The peeling green wallpaper had darker, rectangular patches where pictures once hung, but some furniture remained. This is where Beta and I would sleep. Our supply room would be the barn. The milking shed, where we hung twenty hammocks, would house our soldiers and be the communications and command centre.
Around the shed’s perimeter we erected a one-and-a-half-metre high brick wall and, over the coming week, my soldiers cleared low-growing shrubs out to a radius of four hundred metres and cut the grass using machetes.
For additional security, I stationed puntos with handheld radios in strategic places to give warning if anyone approached, and set up four guard posts on the fence line. Four German shepherds were chained at the hacienda’s perimeter in the spaces between each guard post, and were trained to bark at the slightest disturbance.
Surveying our defences, I felt happy with what we’d achieved. But when I thought of my own family finca just over the hill, I also felt sad. I missed Mamá, but she was hopeless at keeping secrets and I needed to be discreet until the Autodefensas were properly established. I also missed Camila. During one of my supply runs into Garbanzos, I phoned to tell her that I’d soon be working permanently in Llorona.
‘That’s incredible!’ she said excitedly. ‘Did Javier offer you a job?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘But you did quit?’
‘No, we’re moving here to make the town safe.’
‘I see,’ she said sceptically. ‘But where exactly will you be?’
‘Near our finca. We can’t see each other yet, but I’ll phone you soon.’
Camila, however, was stubborn and determined.
Around sunset, as I was making my new bed, Pantera, the punto I’d stationed on the dirt road leading uphill to our base, announced over the radio: ‘Pedro, you have an incoming visitor. Pretty. Five foot five. School uniform.’
Camila had ridden up from Llorona on her bicycle. She threw her arms around me.
‘I’ve missed you so much, baby,’ I said, hugging her back. ‘But you can’t be here.’
‘I guess you know about Zorrillo,’ she said, glancing around at the bullet-pocked farmhouse. ‘Is this where it happened?’
‘Yes,’ I said tentatively, worried she’d ask for details about my role.
But Camila had already moved on and was looking around with interest. ‘So this is your new office?’
I nodded. ‘But I’m still on duty and—’
‘And I’m still your girlfriend, so don’t you dare ask me to leave!’
I took a deep breath and led her back to my quarters, away from the curious glances of my men. When Camila saw the photos of us I’d hung above the bedhead, her hand went to her chest and she smiled. We kissed for minute and I felt myself becoming aroused.
Suddenly, she stiffened and pushed me away. I followed her shocked gaze and realised, to my horror, that she’d spied a list of five names taped to the wall beside the desk – Ratón, Zorrillo, Buitre, Caraquemada and Santiago – all of them except Buitre and Caraquemada accompanied by a photo. The names of the two dead men were crossed out in red.
‘You put photos of these … these murderers … next to mine?’
‘I’m sorry – I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t know you’d come here.’ I stared at the ground, feeling stupid for not remembering the list I’d put up only yesterday.
‘That’s not the point! When, Pedro? When will you see that what you’ve started never ends?’
She burst into tears and beat her fists against my chest. I caught her wrists and drew her close to me.
‘It will end,’ I said grimly, ‘when Papá’s killers are gone.’
She looked at me aghast. ‘But you promised you wouldn’t. Under my house that night, you promised.’
‘Ssshh. Ssshh.’
She let herself be embraced. She put her arms around me. I kissed her tears and then her nose and then her lips. And although she was angry and initially resisted my caresses, eventually I felt her heartbeat quicken and heard her breathing shorten and I managed to coax her towards the bed.
Afterwards, lying naked, I didn’t want her to leave, although I knew she had to.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Camila. I love seeing you but it’s too dangerous. Caraquemada probably knows we’re here by now. What if he launches a counter-attack?’
‘I want to stay.’
‘You don’t know what it’s like. Bullets ricocheting everywhere. You could be killed or kidnapped.’
‘Or you could be,’ she retorted. Then, snuggling up to me, she added, ‘If they take you, I’m coming.’
Two weeks after Zorrillo’s death and the capture of seven of his guerrilleros, I met with Buitrago to finalise the military plan for Phase Three: the occupation of Puerto Galán to eliminate the remaining nine members of the Bolivarian Militia plus another twenty members of the Guerrilla’s secret logistics, intelligence and recruitment networks who’d been identified by the captured guerrilleros.
After our successful trekking mission and the leaflet drop, Buitrago’s trust in us had deepened. Enemy sympathisers had now been given fair warning. Anyone who chose to stay had sealed his own fate.
‘Here’s the full list of enemy collaborators,’ he said, ‘along with their last known addresses.’
Buitrago also agreed to temporarily hand over three of the guerrillero prisoners, bound and gagged. Their role would be to identify the milicianos. With Rafael also giving us valuable intelligence, Beta and Trigeño became hopeful that Caraquemada’s entire underground network could be wiped out in a single, devastating strike.
For thoroughness, Puerto Galán would need to be occupied by a large force of Autodefensas for two or three days, during which time questions could be asked and witnesses called in order to thwart any attempt by the guilty men to disguise themselves within the village’s population. To isolate the village during the occupation and make it difficult for the collaborators to escape or phone for help, a large tree would be felled across the highway between Llorona and Garbanzos behind the advancing Autodefensas, and the electricity and telephone wires would be cut.
Buitrago reluctantly agreed. He knew these were illegal tactics – mass detentions, interrogation of civilians without judicial basis, house-to-house searches without official warrants and summary executions without trial. However, provided it was done thoroughly, it would only have to be done once.
To ensure he could later deny any collusion, Buitrago arranged to have trusted men place explosives on a distant oil pipeline and then call in a sighting of ‘hundreds of enemy’. On Friday morning he’d then lead three-quarters of his men away to deal with the ‘attack’. By the time he returned, the Autodefensas would be long gone, leaving him a village cleansed of insurgents.
I fully expected to be part of the occupying force, but when Trigeño called me on the Friday morning, he told me I would not be included in the mission.
‘Bloque Norte will do the job. Afterwards, you and Beta will be running these towns. I don’t want blood on your hands.’
‘My girlfriend, Camila, lives in Llorona. Will she be safe?’
‘Warn anyone you care about living south of Garbanzos to depart for a few days. Be discreet. Tell them to keep their mouths shut.’
Anyway, that was the plan.