IT WAS PAPÁ’S old trick – the fishing net question – and, whatever he was angling for, there was only one way to play it.
‘Not that I’m aware of, comando.’
Alfa 1’s eyes narrowed. ‘Very well. I’ve authorised Beta to transfer Piolín out of your squad, effective immediately. Tortuga will replace her.’
There could only be one reason for the transfer: her previous week’s slip-up.
‘As her squad leader, don’t I get a say in this?’
‘Not when a trusted commander like Beta comes to me with legitimate concerns about safety. You were warned when you chose her; Piolín is a distraction.’
‘But no rules were broken.’
Alfa 1 scowled, obviously irritated. ‘Pedro, you need to respect not only the rules but also the people who enforce them. If you’d come to me rather than keeping secrets, this might have turned out differently. You need to be loyal to me above everyone else, including your best friend.’
‘Yes, comando. I apologise.’ I bowed my head.
So it was my fault. Perhaps, if I’d acted when MacGyver suggested, Alfa 1 would have simply reprimanded them.
‘You can finish reading the files later. Right now, you’ll inform your soldiers that Piolín is being transferred as part of restructuring. Patrols commence tomorrow morning at six.’
My squad had spent the weekend at La María and had just returned to base. I only hoped that during their time off, Palillo and Piolín hadn’t become closer. However, as I led Palillo behind our dormitory, he told me that they’d shared a room.
‘So if you spent the night together,’ I said, ‘then you two have …?’
Palillo shook his head. ‘Not yet. We’re planning to. But I want it to be special. Like you and Camila.’
He was really excited.
‘There’s something I have to tell you.’
‘Sounds serious.’ He smiled awkwardly. ‘Has someone died?’
‘Piolín is being transferred from the squad.’
At first he looked at me in disbelief. Then his face dropped and he kicked the wall of the dormitory. ‘Fuck! I’ll kill Veneno. I’ll fucking kill him. Dirty sapo.’ He breathed out heavily through his nose. ‘What will happen to her?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet. Trigeño has ordered a major restructuring and the commanders are on edge, so it’s best if you two aren’t seen together for a while.’
I tried to comfort him, telling him it would take time but he’d get over her. He insisted he wouldn’t – there was no one like Adriana. He told me he’d written her poems.
‘You know, Pedro, I can hardly spell so they were nothing great. But I was just telling her how I feel. The next day, she’d composed them into a song, which she sang to me.’ Palillo was crying now, leaning forward against the dormitory wall with tears streaming down the bridge of his nose. I’d never seen him cry. Not even after the fiercest beating from his stepfather. ‘No one ever sang to me. Not even my mother. She was always too busy with my brothers and sisters.’
I knew it was no use telling him about meeting new girls in the future. He only wanted Piolín. ‘Even with the transfer, maybe there’s some way …’
‘Don’t be naïve! Defying the commanders could get us both shot.’ He shook his head. ‘But she was the best thing that ever happened to me.’
When I told Piolín the news about ‘restructuring’, her face turned white.
‘I’m truly sorry, Piolín. There was nothing I could do.’
‘No, I’m sorry, Pedro. We should have listened to you.’
Before dinner, Piolín sought me out privately. Her eyes were red and swollen. She handed me a thick, white envelope.
‘I want you to give this to Palillo,’ she said. ‘It was meant to be a present.’
Inside were two plane tickets from Villavicencio to Cartagena, on the Caribbean coast. She’d purchased them by phone and had them delivered to La María.
‘When I bought these,’ she said, ‘I thought maybe the war was over, or our war at least. We could fly away and, if we kept our mouths shut, maybe they wouldn’t come after us.’
‘Does Palillo know?’ I asked.
Piolín shook her head. ‘I wanted to surprise him.’
I tried to hand them back. ‘They’re expensive. You should request a refund.’
‘No, maybe he can use the money to help his siblings. They need protection.’ She looked at me meaningfully. ‘He told me how you two used to wait outside his house on your bikes, throwing stones to distract his stepfather.’
I was surprised Palillo had discussed his family problems with Piolín. There’d been an unspoken code in our childhood: we both knew what happened in his family but talking about it wouldn’t change a thing.
Piolín sighed. ‘It’s funny – when I ran away from home I never expected to meet someone like Palillo. To everyone else he’s a clown. But to me, he’s a giant black lamb. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I trust you. The other night, we were sharing a room at La María. I was drunk and I finally told him I wanted to do it. So when he was in the shower I took my clothes off, lit a candle and waited under the sheets. But you know what? Palillo never laid a hand on me. He said he didn’t think I was ready. And afterwards I realised he was right. I probably wasn’t.’
‘Why not?’
She looked at her feet. ‘Last year, when my mother was away for weeks at a time working as a cleaner, my father raped me. Not just once. It went on for two months.’
‘You mean your stepfather?’
She shook her head. ‘No, my father. That’s why I ran away and joined up. This might sound stupid, Pedro, but I wanted to kill men. All men. That’s why I invented a boyfriend. I didn’t want anyone coming near me.’
Later I found out that stories like Piolín’s were not uncommon – most of the Autodefensa girls had horrendous pasts – but at the time I was shocked.
‘Who else knows about this?’
‘After Palillo, you’re the second person I’ve told.’ Then she laughed ironically. ‘Actually, the third if we’re counting my mother. She didn’t believe me. That hurt worse than what my father did.’
Finally, I gleaned the depth of connection between Palillo and Piolín. Both had joined the Paramilitaries simply to get out – it didn’t matter where. Somehow, despite the horrors surrounding them, they’d found each other. But now, right at the very moment they’d dreamed of something better than the life they’d been dealt, the commanders had separated them.
I considered waiting to give Palillo the envelope until after we’d departed. He might do anything: beg Alfa 1 to intercede, confront Beta or even fight Veneno. However, he took it well, praising Piolín’s generosity and hiding his disappointment.
He said nothing more until we heard further news later that night: Beta had transferred Piolín into his own unit, the one responsible for ‘intelligence gathering’. From now on, she’d be directly under his control and constantly within his reach.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Palillo muttered.
Our eyes met and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. On La 50 Beta was ruthless enough, but out in the grassy savannah with no one watching and no higher authority than himself, could such a man be trusted to respect Piolín?