Hugh Joyce made his way to the fortress that housed Colonel Delcano’s office. Disregarding the hour, he plunged deep into its inner section where he was halted by guards before he neared the door of the colonel’s office. When he was stopped, Hugh began to shout in an effort to get the colonel’s attention. The orderly rushed into the office, returning in seconds.
“Coronel Delcano will see you now, Señor Joyce.”
Hugh entered the room breathing heavily, trying to regain a measure of confidence and composure. He had forgotten that he was encrusted with slime, and that his hair and face were stiff with filth. Colonel Delcano was waiting for him. He gestured toward a chair, indicating to the priest that he sit. He showed his distaste for Hugh’s dirty condition by fluttering his nostrils slightly and by tightening his thin lips.
“Father Joyce, it’s indeed good to see you once again. I apologize for the disruption that’s taking place in our city.”
Hugh, not yet in full control of himself, was jarred even more by the title which Delcano had used. He had always been careful to pass as a civilian, as a business associate of Sinclaire Enterprises. The colonel noticed Hugh’s confusion, and he smiled thinly.
“So you’re surprised. Come now, Father, you really didn’t think that you could keep your little secret from me, did you? I’ve known all along that you’re a priest.”
Hugh was struggling to keep his balance. Lucio Delcano’s pale gaze, however, was unnerving him. The icicles in his voice rubbed the priest’s insides, and he was afraid that he would begin to tremble visibly.
“I know a lot more about you, my friend. Much more, believe me. May I humbly admit that I know everything about you and your associate, Mr. Sinclaire, beginning with the day you were born.”
Father Hugh thought the floor beneath him was quaking. Again, he wanted to run. The strain of passing the night in the shelter, the traps his mind had been fabricating, along with the horrors of El Playón were taking their toll on him. He knew that his strength was gone, and that he was cracking under the strain of those frozen blue eyes.
“Look, Colonel, I’ve been under considerable stress and…”
He was cut off by the colonel’s upheld hand. It was very white, its fingers long and tapered.
“I understand, my friend. Such violence, so much death. It should not be happening, I admit. Allow me to ask you what I can do for you at this time.”
The colonel was speaking in flawless English. His words were pronounced perfectly, and his voice was cool and biting, like a newly sharpened blade.
“I need to return home. I believe you can help me.”
“So soon? But you’ve only been here since…let me see…a little over twenty-four hours.”
Colonel Delcano referred to a file on his desk. Father Hugh realized that he had been under the colonel’s surveillance since he had first arrived in San Salvador.
“Yes, Sir. I need to report back to my university…that is…I… well…to be frank with you, this whole thing has been a mistake. I didn’t realize the extent of the conflict.”
“Of course. I understand.” The blue gaze was accentuated by an ironic smile. “I’ll see to it that you’re taken to the airport immediately. There are a few special flights still being allowed. You’ll be my guest on one of them. However…”
He again lifted his hand as Hugh was beginning to stand, motioning the priest back to his seat. “However, Father Joyce, there is a matter of importance about which I must speak to you before you leave.”
The priest wrinkled his forehead. He wanted to leave, to escape; he had no taste for any more business. Colonel Delcano paused as he peered at the unshaven, dirty face of his former associate.
“There’s the matter of the confidentiality of our past business. What was confidential to our association must continue in the same manner. Do you understand me, Father Joyce?”
Colonel Delcano’s meaning was clear to Hugh. The implication was that Hugh would in some way disclose their business once he returned to the United States.
“Colonel, I understand you, and you can be sure that I would never, I repeat, never, say or do anything that would jeopardize our transactions. You have my word on it, Sir.”
Delcano’s hands formed a triangle under his chin, and the muscles of his face were still. His gaze was serene and transparent. He detested Hugh Joyce. Not only was the priest a witness, someone who knew a great deal about the inner workings of the system, but the man was obviously an opportunist and, more than likely, a coward. The colonel knew that Joyce was someone who would bend, or even break, under the pressure of opposition. He had no doubt that the priest now seated in front of him would disclose any information about his dealings in El Salvador if it meant saving his own skin. To further complicate matters, the priest had lost his nerve. It was obvious that even now he was on the brink of a nervous collapse.
Much was at stake, and Colonel Delcano had the obligation to think of his country’s welfare. There were several American senators and congressmen, the colonel was convinced, who would gladly move to alter their government’s dealings with the High Command, if only they could be provided with the necessary evidence. Hugh Joyce could provide such evidence.
Colonel Delcano sighed wearily. His decision had been made. For a moment, however, his eyes flickered as he turned his gaze on a sheet of paper placed on his desk. He was looking at a report regarding several priests who had died that morning during the street fighting.
“A pity, my friend, that all priests are not as…how should I express it…not as wise as you are.”
“I don’t understand, Colonel.”
“I mean that most of your fellow priests do not share your views on…how to put it…on business transactions in this world of ours. Am I not right?”
“Yes. You are correct. We’re not all the same.”
Hugh was shivering. Just as he had desired to find the safety of the colonel’s office, he now wanted to get out. Delcano sensed the priest’s anxiety, and he deliberately allowed minutes to drag by. Both men were silent while the colonel stared at Hugh who sat with his head hanging low over his chest, picking at dirt caught under his fingernails. Colonel Delcano finally shifted in his chair, and turning to the telephone, he ordered a car to come to the front entrance.
Hugh was relieved to see that the interview had ended, and the two men waited in silence for the knock on the door that would signal when the car was ready. Then, when it arrived, the colonel extended his right hand, shaking hands with the priest.
“Good-bye, my friend. I’ve enjoyed doing business with you. Have a safe journey.”
The priest turned, quickly walking out the door and down the stairs, impatient to get away. Soon he would be home, and this nightmare would be behind him.
Just as Hugh was about to enter the car, two soldiers intercepted him with the order to hand over his passport. Hugh was irritated at this unexpected loss of precious time. He tried to explain that he was a personal guest of Colonel Delcano but the soldiers seemed indifferent to whatever Father Hugh said. Instead, they shoved him against a wall and ordered him to empty his pockets of whatever objects he might be carrying. Frustrated and refusing to listen to them, he attempted to get into the waiting car. As he moved, arms outstretched toward the vehicle, a detonation rang out and a bullet pierced his neck, swerving upward to lodge itself in his brain.
From the heights of his window facing the street, the colonel watched the incident unfolding on the street beneath him. He saw the priest’s body plummet headlong towards the ground, rebounding as it hit the pavement. He watched the crumpled body convulse momentarily, its fingers twitching and contorting.
The colonel lingered for a few minutes at the window, gazing absentmindedly at the priest’s body. He then turned away from the window and approached his desk to re-read the report that had been submitted to him a few minutes before his interview with Hugh Joyce. The report communicated that Luz Delcano had been observed unearthing the body of the executed guerrilla, Bernabé. The wording of the message ended abruptly, conveying no further details of her reaction, nor of her whereabouts.
Colonel Delcano felt his usual impatience with inefficiency, but he let it pass. He called for his aide. When the soldier walked in, Colonel Delcano spoke rapidly.
“Is the lieutenant still on the premises?”
“Sí, Señor. He’s waiting for further instructions from you.”
“Ask him to come in.”
Within a few minutes, the lieutenant appeared, extreme fatigue mirrored on his face. The pupils of his eyes were dilated.
“You’ve done well today, Teniente. You’ve followed orders perfectly.”
“¡Gracias, mi Coronel!”
“One more thing. Deliver this order to the sergeant presently on duty. He’s to implement it this evening.”
Delcano handed the lieutenant a sealed envelope. The order was the last one that he would be receiving. It directed his own execution.
The soldier left the office, quietly closing the door behind him. Lucio Delcano sat rigidly at his desk, remaining in that posture for several hours as he thought about his mother and his brother. A numbness was invading his body, paralyzing his heart, and he felt afraid and lost, as he often had when he was a child. His obsession had been fulfilled. His brother was dead, yet Delcano felt empty and sick. Like everything else in his life, even the anticipated elation of vengeance had been denied him.