Locked Away

1

Late September in a small, mountainous South American country

“We have to get rid of him.” Luis Alvasado took a long thoughtful drag on his thick cigar and rolled it lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“I can have that handled by tomorrow at noon.” It seemed so easy to Roberto Vallez: one well-placed bomb or a sharp-eyed marksman, one pop and problem solved.

“No,” Luis snapped. Military officers always had the same answers: kill it, blow it up, destroy it, and…no problems. “I told you, Colonel. People are not stupid. They will know immediately who killed him and why. He is a very popular man. We need a plan that will rid us of this obstacle and still keep the sympathy of our neighbors…and customers. Perhaps an accident or a heart attack.”

They had discussed this same topic on and off for the last eight months and never found a solution. The problem: a very popular politician, and, heaven forbid, an honest one who had ideas to change the country. Luis looked around the table at his three closest friends: two military officers and one politician. Was he the only man in this country to see what the future could hold?

With finality, Luis sat back and downed a mouthful of his drink. He stared into the glass. The ice had melted and added a thick layer of clear liquid atop the heavy brown liquor at the bottom of the glass.

Although few in his country used ice cubes on a regular basis, he was trying to adopt the North American tradition and made sure that ice cubes were served with every drink. To him, ice cubes were one of those luxuries that spelled success and spoke of sophistication, even if it was the tarnished overpowering polish of the North Americans.

He rose and went to the ice bucket on the long tray at the end of the small bar. As he dropped two large ice cubes into the glass, he studied his three companions. Then he poured rum over the ice and listened to them crack as the warm liquid hit them.

Walking back to the table, he said, more to himself, “There’s got to be a way.”

General Marco Talavado looked at him. “Now that the North Americans are swarming all around him, it will be harder, but not impossible. I would not mind if one or two of them were caught in the crossfire. They pose more of a problem than he does.”

“We could rig an explosion and get rid of them all at once,” Roberto said.

Luis glared at him. “You do not understand. This must be subtle or the world will be on our backs. Besides, some of our people could be hurt. We must make this neat.”

Roberto shrugged.

“It’s too bad we couldn’t just get them to shoot each other. That would solve our whole problem,” Marco joked as he lit his cigarette.

There was a long silence.

Juan Carlos Ortega sat forward. He hadn’t taken part in the discussion until now but an idea was slowly forming in his mind. He considered his words carefully. Although he held the second highest elected office in the country, he was tired of standing in the shadow of others, especially the other three around this table. This was his chance to step out of the background and he had to weigh each step carefully.

“We may be able to make it look like they killed each other or have been killed in an honest fight,” he started. The other three listened to him. “If it looked like the North Americans killed our beloved leader, the world would be on our side.”

All eyes focused on him.

“With the correct witnesses and no one to verify the North American’s story we could be rid of him and all the outside influence.” Juan Carlos sat forward and stared into his drink. “If it looked like one of them killed him and we, in turn, had to put up a good fight in his defense, everyone in the entire world would join us in our bereavement.”

“And the North Americans would be dead and out of our hair as well.” Luis sat back, contemplating his icy drink.

“No. Better still, one will live and be our ace. We will have a chip to barter or trade. Their governments will have to negotiate.” Juan Carlos smiled at the faces around the table as they digested his words.

He already knew which one of the Americans it would be.2

A Month Earlier

Cam scanned the sky as two hawks glided overhead. The beauty of this place never ceased to amaze her. The lake had become her home over the past six years and Cam loved spending as much time as she could here. Not that it was all that much time, but at least it gave her a serene place to be between assignments. When Michael had first brought her to the lake over fifteen years before to spend some well-deserved R & R at Papa Gauchet’s fishing cottage, Cam had fallen in love with the lake. Then when a beautiful piece of property had become available right on the States side of the border, Cam had become a propertied resident.