El Mono, page 17
Start at the beginning, he thought, and make the simplest, most obvious conclusions from what was known. OK, first there was Triple F’s Toyota and its passengers blown up. No claim of responsibility straight away but then a Triple F executive is captured while investigating the site and a ransom demand made by the FARC. That does sound like the FARC set a trap.
Then the victim, García, and his FARC kidnappers are wiped out. That appeared like a paramilitary botched rescue attempt. Though what were the TMG explosives doing there?
Next, TMG’s mine suffers a major disaster. Men are seen moving away from the area, one threatens him with a gun and the other deliriously implies his comrade is a murderer and that they are involved in the explosion. They both return to Triple F. Not an autonomous mining collapse, therefore – more like a Triple F-manufactured ‘accident’?
Finally, a second mine disaster. Triple F are somehow involved in a rescue attempt but it goes wrong.
Two rescue attempts that go wrong? Does that sound familiar?
It would be interesting to hear what Alfonso’s cousin, Carlos, thought. He, his family and their pueblo must be a buzz with gossip just now. Daniel rode on eager to get there before the sun set too low.
The pueblo was a collection of simple, traditional one-storey farm buildings, with whitewashed walls and Spanish tiled roofs, that had existed at the foot of the mountain for not quite as many years as the volcano had been there, but it seemed like almost as long. Around seventeen or so families lived there and, with the passing of some older men, Carlos was the tallest, strongest and the one with the fiercest temper who remained. Only in his mid-thirties he was nonetheless the unspoken leader of the community. When he was younger he had attracted the attention of a number of local girls and as a result he had picked as his wife the most attractive of those who had teased and tossed their hair at him. This was Valentina, of olive skin and green eyes, who was the only one who had given him the run-around.. They now had a fifteen-year-old daughter Natalia who took after her mother and a four-year-old dynamo Luís, or Lucho, who everyone claimed was too much like his father.
The pueblo was connected to highway 24 in the north by a dirt track which ran parallel to the TMG company road some distance to the east. As Daniel rode into the pueblo, coming down the mountain, approaching from the south, he could see over to the TMG road, which was now alive with people, trucks and other heavy vehicles going to and from the mine. He called out as he approached Carlos and Valentina’s house. A dog barked in reply.
A curtain was drawn back from a window. Then Carlos came out with Natalia, the latter looking at him with big round eyes as he dismounted. Daniel brushed the falcon off his shoulder; he had momentarily forgotten she was there. The bird immediately flew up to settle on the highest telegraph pole in the pueblo. In the front yard, Carlos’s dog – a long-haired, bright-eyed mongrel – barked again at the sight of her.
‘Hola, Mono,’ said Carlos. ‘Another one come to see the fun and games?’ From just inside the front door to the house a little boy’s voice echoed: ‘Hola, Mono! Hola, Mono!’
‘Carlos, do you have to be so rude to our friend?’ Valentina came to the door. ‘Don’t you mind him, Daniel. You are very welcome here. Come in.’ She was one of the very few who insisted on calling Daniel by his proper name.
Daniel was grateful for the invitation to enter. He followed Carlos and ruffled the hair of the little boy who was standing, grinning up at him from the door.
A large wooden table dominated the room he entered. It was low-ceilinged, dark, simply decorated but with decades of use it had a warm, welcoming feel to it. Daniel walked around and waited by the far side of the table to see where the others would sit. He was anxious not to offend his hosts. Carlos waved a hand at a nearby stool. Daniel sat as bid. Natalia stood behind her father with big eyes, not saying a word. Carlos sat at the head of the table, frowning.
‘So what brings you here, Mono?’ he asked.
‘I wanted your opinion, Carlos, if you wouldn’t mind,’ replied Daniel. ‘Also any news you might have to add to what I know. I’ve just come from Alfonso, your cousin, and there have been people, friends, killed over that way. Paramilitaries have threatened me. Now there’s a mining disaster here. I wondered what has been going on and if you knew anything.’
‘Pah!’ Carlos exploded. ‘I’ve had my fill of ’em all. Two weeks back the paramilitaries came to see me. I’ve been causing too much trouble they say. Me? TMG are the ones causing trouble, I say – contaminating the waters; their heavy vehicles chewing up our lands. No, they say; I’ve got to stop complaining or else. So who is paying these guys with guns to threaten me, eh? TMG, who else? Well, now they’ve got something else to think about – a mine collapse. I and a few of us here went up yesterday to offer to help dig out the trapped miners. I’ve got nothing against those ordinary workers trapped underground, but no – their security push us away. I get mad but they don’t like us, we don’t like them. Despite this, I went back again this morning because there’s been another collapse. No, they still don’t want our help and they look at me with suspicion, as if I caused it!’
‘Have you heard anything about what has caused the mine collapse? An accident or someone up to no good?’
‘No, I haven’t heard. It’s no secret that the people who farm the land here, and some of those who still pan for gold, none of us wants that mine open. But none of us has the time, or the resources, or the intention to do any real harm to the poor people who work there. If the explosion we heard was caused by someone, it was no one I know.’
‘Do you think the FARC may have had a hand in it?’ Daniel asked. ‘You’ve had a visit from them, haven’t you?’
‘That’s another bunch who have threatened us, yes,’ Carlos said. ‘They are just interested in exploiting our grievances. “Join us and we’ll help you,” they say. But what do they do? Demand a cut of our income for protection money. Or they will take over our land and grow and process coca leaves on it. They were going to come back here and force us to choose one of those options but then it all went quiet. I think TMG bought them off. It’s possible, I guess, that the FARC might have detonated some explosion in the mine as a means of demanding their money … but I wouldn’t know how they could do that. The place is crawling with security.’
Valentina was standing by the door. ‘What do the wives say in the pueblo?’ Daniel asked.
‘Like Carlos says, none of us wants the mine. We used to bathe in the spring above the pueblo but not now; we have to walk a across the fields to a tank that is fed by another stream. We hope that is safer but even then we are not sure.’ Valentina stopped. ‘But Daniel – that is not what really worries us. It’s the men who come to threaten us – that is worse. I keep telling Carlos not to provoke them, not to complain so much but he won’t listen …’
Carlos became angry. ‘What do you want me to do, woman? Lie down and let them walk all over us? We have to stand up to all these people and tell them to stop. Stop poisoning our water; stop despoiling our fields; stop giving us orders, and stop threatening us.’
‘And you will sacrifice your life in the process? Is that what you want?’ It was Valentina’s turn to become angry now. ‘Because I don’t want to lose you. A martyr is no good to me and your children!’
‘And it’s no good if we have nowhere to live!’ Carlos retorted fiercely. ‘All we have in the world is here, right here on these lands. These are our roots. They give us our livelihoods. They give us our identity; our freedom to be who we want to be. These lands are ours; they belonged to our parents before us and their parents before them. The mining companies want to push us off, tear it all up and dig out whatever minerals they find. Or, if we don’t leave, they pay people to kill us. Or, if it’s not them, we get terrorists demanding us to leave so they can harvest coca leaves. And they also threaten to kill us if we don’t move. So what do we do? The only thing I can do is to protest; to shout loud; to complain to whoever will hear!’
Valentina stepped forward to glare at her husband.
‘But what if the only ones who hear are those men with guns?’ she demanded. ‘I’d rather leave these lands with you than have to go without you. I don’t want to wait here for you not to return one day. I don’t ever want to go out and have to search for your dead body, do you hear? Don’t you ever, ever do that to me!’ She burst into tears and ran out.
Carlos just shouted after her. He didn’t know if he was angrier with his wife, with himself or with the whole situation they were faced with.
Daniel went after her. He found her in the middle of the next room, the children’s bedroom, with Lucho holding on tight around her legs, alarmed at his mother’s reaction.
‘What can we do?’ Valentina’s tearful face look up at his. ‘We have so much to lose. We can’t stay and be killed. But we can’t run away somewhere else either and wait until we are pushed off again. Daniel … can you help us? Carlos is too proud to ask but you see how it is here. I’ve been worried sick these last few weeks and Carlos just gets angrier and angrier. Daniel … everyone here knows and respects you. You can do things that no one else can. But no one is going to ask you except me … so please … is there anything you can do to help?’
Daniel held Valentina to him and kissed the top of her head, his mind racing. He had to help … but how?
‘I’ll do whatever I can. We have to stop the violence; the greed; the destruction of the lands. Why have I come here to see you? To tell you that there must be thousands of others all over the country like you – angry and suffering like you. You’re not alone. If one person, one pueblo, complaining isn’t enough to stop this, then we have to organise. You hold on to your man. I’ll do it. I’ll visit everyone who might join us. I’ll even get the livestock, the animals, the birds, every living creature to protest. They will have to take notice. Valentina – you look after your family. I’ll do all I can to look after the rest, you wait and see …’
7
Christmas
Close to the end of the semester, Karin’s spirits began to rise. Christmas was coming and that would surely be a time of celebration, of meeting people, and of yet more new and fascinating experiences. Even the weather in Bogotá seemed to perk up – days and days of non-stop sunshine.
October had been a terribly depressing time for Claudia, her best friend. First was the news that Martín’s body had been found. Claudia’s father, Manuel Fernández, had come up to visit her and tell her the bad news, unofficial at this stage, in person. Karin was introduced to him and, of course, they had both warmed to each other. Tall for a Colombian, he was dark-haired, greying at the temples, well-groomed and a very distinguished-looking gentleman. He kept thanking Karin for being such a supportive friend to his daughter; she in return kept complimenting him for having such a wonderful daughter who had made her stay in his country so welcoming.
Two weeks after Claudia’s father’s visit came the funeral of Martín García. This was in Bogotá and the surrounding details, as they emerged, were intensely sombre. Claudia shut her ears, her eyes, the door to her room in her aunt’s apartment, and didn’t want to see or talk to anyone about it for days. Karin had just held her hand through that period and had said little or nothing. The García family had paid for a helicopter to recover the body, or what remained of it, and had a DNA investigation carried out to confirm that it was, indeed, the body of Martín. As soon as this was confirmed, then relations and friends flew in from around Colombia and the USA to go to the funeral. Karin, Claudia and her parents attended, as did a large number of students and ex-students from Los Andes. The death of such a popular young man, with so much potential, cut off in his prime, and in such a horrific manner, meant that the delayed service, when it eventually took place, was an extremely sad and tearful affair.
In the shadow of that experience, it took some time in November for Karin to return to the routine of studying, getting on top of her subject, socialising with her fellow students, dining out and partying, and, particularly, getting Claudia out of her depression to partake in the various distractions of a big, vibrant city. Karin had insisted that the best way to feel a new person is to go and have a complete makeover: a new hairdo and manicure; buy a new outfit, with shoes and bag to match; to dress up, put on the best perfume and makeup, stand in front of a mirror looking a million dollars, smile, then go out and hit the town. This they did. It worked. They had the best night out possible in a salsa club – several young men competed over each girl on the dance floor and by the time they had retreated to a quiet table for drinks Claudia’s face was wreathed in smiles. New boyfriends awaited her in the days that followed. The end of November thus finished on a high note.
December saw the close of studies in Los Andes and thoughts turned to the holiday.
‘Karin – the long vacation starts soon. Would you like to spend Christmas with my family?’ asked Claudia.
‘Silly question!’ Karin retorted. ‘Who else would I rather spend Christmas with? It is a time to be with family, I adore your parents, and, if they are willing to have me, I’d be delighted.’
‘Well, they would love to have you. I’ve told them already that I insist you come and of course they said yes. Anyway, my father took a real shine to you so he would be pleased to see you again.’
‘And I took a shine to him, too. Quite a cultured gentleman. He must be quite disappointed to have such a philistine for a daughter …’
‘Pig! I hate you!’ Claudia laughed.
Karin laughed, too. It was great to see the sparkle back in her friend’s eyes.
They took the overnight bus to Cali soon after their university session finished. Claudia phoned ahead and the family’s driver picked them up at the bus depot. He drove them straight to the Fernández home: a large, rambling, single-storey house in a suburb of similar properties on the outskirts of the city, with a low-pitched, overhanging roof, a patio, swimming pool and an extensive garden. Claudia’s mother welcomed her daughter with a big hug. A similar welcome was bestowed upon Karin. All the while a maid stood politely by with a pitcher of iced fruit juice and two glasses.
Claudia was on a high and insisted on taking Karin in hand and showing her around.
‘This will be your bedroom, K.,’ she enthused. ‘Look: right next to mine, with adjoining doors, so we can sit together on your bed or mine and natter all night if we are in the mood … Here’s the lounge – plenty of space – never mind the dog, he shouldn’t be in here … That’s the dining room, lovely isn’t it? … And here we are back into the garden again. We have another bedroom I haven’t shown you – it belongs to Andres, my brother who is currently in Australia; there’s also my parents’ room, and my father’s study. He gets really annoyed if I so much as touch the furniture in there. But what do you think? Will you be happy staying with us?’
‘I think it will be just fabulous …’ She made a bee-line for the pool and lowered herself into an easy chair. ‘Aaaah! I love it already.’
The same question was put to Karin later that evening by Claudia’s father while they were seated for dinner. By that time she had showered and changed and was feeling definitely in holiday spirits.
‘This is a lovely place and I can’t thank you enough for having me. This is so very kind of you. I am sure this will be a wonderful Christmas … ’ Karin laughed. ‘But I have to say it seems so strange that it isn’t cold. My first Christmas in the sunshine!’
‘Well, of course this is normal for us, just as it is strange for you,’ Claudia’s father replied. ‘In fact, I get quite tired of this heat, all day and every day here. By all means get your fill of this hot weather for the next couple of weeks while I’m at work, but just before Christmas, I think – if Claudia and her mother agree – I’d like to retire to our finca. Not quite a British winter, but it is a little cooler there, as you know. You will have a busy time at first – we’ll invite lots of people round so that you may meet a number of our neighbours, friends and some of my work colleagues here in Cali – but then it would be nice to celebrate Christmas just by ourselves in the mountains. I could certainly do with the rest. How does that sound?’
Karin looked at Claudia, who looked at her mother, who looked back at Claudia, who looked back at Karin.
‘You say, Claudia,’ Karin said. The last time they were at the finca was when Martín was killed.
‘I’m fine with that,’ said Claudia, a little solemnly. Her mother breathed a sigh of relief.
‘That’s good then,’ said Karin brightly.
‘Of course, that will give you the chance to see a certain someone,’ said Claudia. ‘Only if you should wish to …’ she added wickedly.
‘Not just me …’ said Karin defensively. ‘We should both thank a certain someone for what he has done for us.’
Claudia coloured and lowered her eyes. She had forgotten. In all the trauma of the death being announced and the funeral being arranged, no one had said anything about who had initially found Martín’s body – just that her father had unofficially heard from Alfonso and that the police later confirmed it. Thanks to Karin’s prompting, she realised now that it must have been Daniel who had found the body and told Alfonso. Who else?
Claudia’s parents did not quite follow what had passed between the two girls but they didn’t pursue it. Best to let them sort it out, whatever it was.
Claudia’s father picked up the conversation: ‘Well, most likely I’ll finish work on the twenty-first, maybe the twenty-second. The day following we will drive down to the finca. We ought to start early because it’s a four- or five-hour drive. We’ll let Alfonso and María know in good time and they can prepare all the rooms and get in plenty of provisions ready for us. I’ll get the wine and lots of other goodies here to take down with us. I am sure, Claudia, you and your mother will think of everything that I am going to forget!’ He smiled at both of them. Karin thought, yet again, that this was a lovely family and that she was so lucky to have been invited to stay with them
