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Colonel Alvarez sat in the dark, thinking about Luis and the missing helicopter. On the table before him was a bottle of clear aguardiente and a glass. The glass was almost empty. He downed what was left and poured himself another drink, then got up and went to the window of his apartment. He looked down on the street that ran past his building. It was after midnight. The street was deserted, all the good people home in bed.
Alvarez sipped his drink and wondered what had happened. When the helicopter didn't return, his first thought was that his longtime friend had betrayed him. Flown off with more of the gold. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized Luis would never do that. First of all, there weren't many places that helicopter could go. Alvarez would've known almost immediately if it had landed at any of them. Besides, it was not to Luis' advantage to try and make off with the gold. Only Alvarez had the connections and means to move it out of Peru. It was Alvarez who knew how to convert the Inca artifacts into cold, hard cash.
No, there was no reason for Luis to betray him.
Something had happened. Whatever it was, it meant the helicopter was lost. Luis was probably dead, along with the men he'd taken with him.
Perhaps the natives had been more clever than he'd given them credit for, and managed a successful attack. Still, it was hard to see how they could have prevailed against machine guns and grenades.
The helicopter could have crashed in the rain forest. If it did, it would never be found. Mechanical failure was not unknown with these machines, though the one Luis had taken had just been serviced. Whatever the reason, the loss of the bird could not be concealed. It was time to get out, before his superiors started asking awkward questions.
Alvarez drank. The fiery liquor burned going down. It didn't settle the gnawing feeling that things were starting to come apart.
Getting the gold out of the country would not be too difficult. It was packed in crates in the back of a truck parked in the barn at his family home. He had men who would follow his orders. There was an abandoned military airstrip some forty kilometers from the house. It was still usable. It was time to arrange the plane.
Once he was out of Peru, he'd melt everything down into bars and transfer the gold to his offshore bank. It was the kind of bank where no one would ask inconvenient questions about where the gold had come from.
He decided he would leave now for the house, but first he had to arrange the plane. Alvarez picked up his phone and dialed. A gruff voice answered.
"¿Aló?"
"This is Alvarez. Can you talk?"
"Yes, it's safe, Colonel. A little late to call, no?"
"I apologize, Jorge. Believe me, the inconvenience will be worth your while. I need your plane. I want to take a trip."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Brazil. A strip in the country, outside Rio Branco."
"Ah. I take it you have no wish to bother with the customs officials?"
"Paperwork is so tedious," Alvarez said.
"I understand perfectly, Colonel."
"I am bringing some cargo with me. It's rather heavy."
"How heavy?"
"Heavy enough that we will need your DC-3."
"Brazil air control has become difficult, lately," Jorge said. "They've been having problems with drug flights. You're not involved with that, are you? Because I don't approve of drugs."
"Your conscience needn't be bothered," Alvarez said. "It's not drugs. Just the same, I prefer not to engage the authorities."
"I'll have to fly low to avoid their radar. This will be an expensive flight, my friend."
"How expensive?"
"Fifty thousand. My plane uses lots of fuel."
"Dollars?"
"No, euros."
"I need to leave tomorrow night."
"That is difficult."
"Sixty thousand, Jorge. But it has to be tomorrow."
A long sigh came over the phone.
"Very well. Where and when?"
Alvarez told him the coordinates of the abandoned airstrip.
"There are no lights at the strip," he said. "Meet me there at six o'clock. It will still be light. There will be enough time to load and leave before dark."
"I know where it is," Jorge said. "Make sure there is no debris on the runway. Bring cash with you."
"It's always a pleasure to do business with a professional," Alvarez said.
After he'd hung up, he thought about his next move. He needed men to unload the truck and transfer the crates to the plane. Four would be enough, plus an NCO to keep an eye on them. In the morning, he'd form the detail and have them follow him to the house.
It would be a day before they'd be missed, another before anyone would decide to do something about it. By that time, he would be far away.