The Squire's Tale - 9. Chapter 9

FRIDAY, JUNE 22nd, 3:20 PM
ALEJANDRO VELASQUEZ ASTETE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, CUZCO, PERÚ

The SOCOM Black Hawk helicopter landed at the airport in Cuzco, and Keiran and Sami were hustled over to a waiting Viva Air flight to Lima.

Special Forces Captain Carson Stone bid them good-bye at the foot of the aircraft’s stairs, “Under normal circumstances, we would airlift you out of this country and back home as fast as possible, but orders are for you to go to Lima and meet up with your grandfather.”

“Thank you for saving us, Captain.”

“Well, you did a damn good job of saving your own asses, Keiran. That took some major balls, and Sami’s bravery in letting you out of prison and leading you through the jungle is commendable. I’ll put in a word for him in my after-action report.”

Keiran turned, smiling, and told Sami in Spanish, “He says you are very brave.”

“Oh, no. It is you who are the hero. You were the driver of the truck, and you tried to steal the airplane of El Gran Jefe.”

“Yeah, too bad that didn’t work out. We could have been up and out of there in no time, instead of racing through the goddamn jungle.”

From the top of the flight stairs, the attendant announced impatiently, “Señores, you must seat yourselves so we can take off.”

With a handshake and a salute from Captain Stone, the two young men hurried to board the plane.

FRIDAY, JUNE 22nd, 5:00 PM
JORGE CHÁVEZ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, LIMA, PERÚ

Ninety minutes later, after a comfortable flight in an Airbus A320 jet over the 20,000-foot peaks of the Cordillera de los Andes, they were met at the airport in Lima by Deputy Ambassador Alton Clifford from the US Embassy.

Escorting Keiran and Sami to a private room inside the terminal, he remarked, “You are a brave and foolish young man, Keiran.”

“Thanks...I guess, Mr Clifford. I had no choice but to get the hell out of that place. They had orders to kill me.”

“Well, I’ve spoken to your grandfather. He is on his way here, but you will be my responsibility until he arrives.”

Suddenly two policemen appeared and stationed themselves, one on each side of Sami.

“What are they doing to Sami?”

“I believe he was identified as one of your kidnappers.”

“That isn’t true! He was a worker on the farm, but he didn’t participate in the kidnapping or the plan to kill me. And he helped me escape. Please help him.”

“I’m sorry. He’ll have to remain in police custody and be interrogated. If he gives them information leading to the place where you were held, he might receive a lighter sentence.”

“What? No! He’s only a native kid. He doesn’t know where we were, except some place up in the mountains, about an hour and a half from Cuzco.”

“Give me a minute.” Clifford left Keiran alone, returning shortly to announce, “The police have come to the conclusion that Sami is a young man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He is uneducated and can’t give them any useful information, but I expect they will detain him until this matter is resolved and the kidnappers are brought to justice.”

“Can I see him, speak to him?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He is in police custody. He—”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Keiran slammed his fist on the table and sprang to his feet, interrupting the diplomat. “Goddammit! He fuckin saved my life. I have to tell him everything is gonna be all right.”

Stunned, Clifford recoiled. “Now just a minute, Keiran—”

“It’s Mister Bronson to you,” he snapped.

“OK, Mister Bronson, if that is how you want to play this. You need to face up to the fact that you are a visitor in a sovereign country where being an American, or the grandson of a rich man, won’t buy you any special treatment.”

For a moment, Keiran glowered at him in anger, before realizing he needed to take a different approach. He sighed and spoke more courteously, “I’m sorry, Mr Clifford. You’re right. I’ve been through a hell of a lot over the past few days, and my nerves are about shot. Sami saved my life—more than once, as a matter of fact. He’s not a bad guy. If he’s locked up with a bunch of hardened criminals, he won’t survive for long.”

Clifford acquiesced, “I do understand, and I’ve inquired about that. Because you told them he saved your life, he is being held in a single cell at police headquarters, not the prison. I’ll do what I can to keep things that way, at least until your grandfather gets here.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Your grandfather owns the second most valuable company in Peru. He is a personal friend of the president and acquainted with many members within government, not to mention that his investments in the welfare of the people of this country make him a highly regarded celebrity. They will probably do anything he asks.”

Keiran’s expression became one of gratitude and apology. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I had no fucking idea.”

“I gathered as much. Now, we need to take you out of here. You need a bath and some new clothes so you can be presentable when Mr Hutton arrives in—” he checked his watch, “about three hours. You’ll be standing with the president and a lot of important people when he gets off his plane.”

FRIDAY, JUNE 22nd, 7:45 PM
JORGE CHÁVEZ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, LIMA, PERÚ

Lima is more than 800 miles south of the equator, so it was already dark and turning chilly when Tom Hutton’s private Gulfstream G-650 landed, but the runway was ablaze with light. A considerable assemblage of men in dark suits and women in evening clothes huddled around Keiran, doing their best to keep warm and also be seen standing as close to him as possible when his grandfather reached him.

Alton Clifford had introduced Keiran to Presidente De La Cruz, who praised him, “You are a brave young man, Señor Bronson. You have survived where others would have fared less well, I fear.”

“I owe it all to Sami, Sir. He saved my life and kept me thinking straight when things really looked dark.”

“So I understand. I have ordered Sami to be released from the jail and placed under protective custody in a safehouse until this matter is fully resolved.”

“Muchas gracias, Señor Presidente. What about the men where I was being held? Do you know who El Gran Jefe is?”

“I cannot say anything yet, but the Policía Nacional is investigating the matter. They have a source inside the conspiracy, and I am confident answers will be forthcoming soon.”

At that moment, the jet carrying Keiran’s grandfather taxied over to where the welcoming delegation was waiting on the tarmac. As soon as the plane stopped, the flight stair was lowered, and Tom descended, opening his arms to embrace Keiran. They held each other tightly for several seconds.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Tom’s voice cracked with relief.

Wiping away a tear, Keiran said, “Me, too, Granddad, thanks to those Special Forces guys you sent.”

“We don’t talk about that to anyone, OK? I cashed in some big debts to arrange all that.”

“Yes, Sir. And I’m sorry all this happened because I wanted some fucking marijuana.”

“There’s a lot more to it than that, Keiran. You were set up, and the police are interrogating everyone who was with you at the youth hostel. It appears someone deliberately directed you to the alley where you were kidnapped.”

“Holy shit! It must have been the goddamn stoner who told me where to buy the weed.”

Tom laughed, “I hear you stole a truck and gave those assholes a run for their money. That was damned ballsy of you.”

“I did what I had to do. ‘Those assholes’ were going to kill me, when they already had the money.”

Growing serious, Tom asked, “So I understand. Do you have idea any who was running things?”

“I wish I knew. I think the decision came from some motherfucker they called El Gran Jefe. I couldn’t see him because they put a fucking bag over my head when they brought me to the main house yesterday, but I’ll never forget his goddamn voice.”

“I read the police report on my way down here, but for some reason, they are withholding some details they don’t want to share with me yet.”

“Granddad, Sami needs our help.”

“I know, Son, and I’m going to make sure he gets it.”

The president cleared his throat politely, and Tom immediately turned to him with a cordial smile, shook his hand, and thanked him for all he had done for his grandson, and also for the rapid investigation that was under way.

El Presidente introduced Tom to some of the other welcoming officials and Tom warmly greeted many he already knew.

Half an hour later, they were in a limousine heading to the Hilton Miraflores Hotel, where Tom had booked the penthouse suite. Keiran enjoyed the best meal he’d had since the start of his nightmare before collapsing into a luxurious bed for the first good night’s sleep in almost a week.

SATURDAY, JUNE 23rd, 9:30 AM
LIMA, PERÚ

A police vehicle picked Tom and Keiran up at the hotel and drove them to the offices of Electrónicas Hutton.

Stepping out of the elevator on the fifteenth floor, they were met by Ana, the administrative assistant to Héctor Álvarez, vice president in charge of Peruvian operations.

“Bienvenido, Señor Hutton. I’m terribly sorry about the circumstance of your visit,” she said, nodding her head respectfully.

“Me, too, Ana,” he smiled at her. “This is my grandson, Keiran Bronson.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Señor Bronson. The news is full of the story of your fantastico escape.”

Keiran shook her hand. “I had a lot of help.”

Tom said, “I assume Héctor is waiting for us?”

“Sí, Señor. He is in the boardroom. The rest of the directors are with him, as you requested.”

“Good,” Tom smiled knowingly. “Very good.”

Ana showed them into the beautifully appointed boardroom.

Several men in dark suits rose to their feet. They had been seated along the sides of a long ebony table. Ana guided Keiran to a smaller chair against the wall behind his grandfather. Tom took his seat in the black leather chair at the head of the table. Álvarez was seated in a similar chair at the opposite end of the table.

“Héctor,” Tom began, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion.

“Tom, I’m so glad Keiran is safe,” Héctor replied, although, despite his best effort, the sentiment sounded forced.

“Are you?”

Taken aback, Álvarez stuttered “Wh–Why, of course, Tom. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Glaring down the length of the table, Tom remarked ominously, “I’ve brought someone with me who I believe you might recognize.”

Looking visibly unnerved, Álvarez inquired, “Who might that be?”

Tom signaled Ana, who was standing by the door. When she opened it, Alton Clifford entered, followed by a colonel of the Policía Nacional in full dress uniform. Behind him, a terrified Sami entered the room. Wide-eyed, he surveyed the cadre of men in dark suits, until at least his eyes fell on Keiran and he smiled nervously.

Then he turned his gaze to the other end of the table and blanched. “¡El Gran Jefe! ¡No!”

Sami took a step back as if to flee, but the police officer took his arm and steadied him. The colonel stepped aside and two police investigators in suits entered the room and walked to the end of the table, stationing themselves on each side of Álvarez.

Tom demanded sarcastically, “Well, Héctor, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Tom, what the fuck is going on? I have no idea who the hell this Indian kid is, or why he called me that.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

“Tom, I swear—” One look from Hutton silenced him. Turning to his grandson, he asked, “Do you recognize his voice?”

“I sure do. He’s El Gran fucking Jefe, all right.”

Tom scowled down the long table at his traitorous VP. “At first I couldn’t figure out why you wanted two million of my hard-earned dollars. But now everything is clear. You intended to make yourself the next president, or should I say dictator, of Peru. Your revolution was to be financed by the kidnapping of my grandson. I have also learned you intended to murder him. What did I ever do to you to make you want to do that?”

Abandoning the façade of innocence, Álvarez glared around the room at the other directors, the police chief, and then back at Tom with naked hatred.

He sneered, “You are nothing but a goddamn rich American capitalist who exploits the people of Peru and steals our resources to make yourself richer. I sat in my office every day and watched you grow in importance and influence, all bought with your fucking money. And I saw how the leaders of the government kissed your ass and welcomed you to help them abuse their power.”

Addressing the other men in the room, he shouted, “This man is in bed with the corrupt government that is destroying our country!”

The police colonel spoke up in accented English. “No, Señor Álvarez, it is you who are corrupt. You and your compadres conspired to overthrow the legitimately elected government of this country. The two million dolares of ransom was intended to hire mercenaries who would assassinate our leaders and put you in place as ‘El Gran Jefe’ of the country. Señor Hutton is nothing like what you accused. He is one of the best friends Peru has ever known.”

He turned to address Tom, “Our investigators have arrested an additional six men, including a coronel of the Army. They also found a cache of weapons and have detained several recent arrivals into our country—probably they are mercenaries hired by the insurrectos. None of them will ever leave this country again.”

He hesitated. “Sadly, we have been informed someone in your country has been helping the revolutionaries. I understand your FBI have taken them into custody.” Addressing the men standing guard over Álvarez, he ordered, “Take him away.”

The colonel shielded Sami with his body as Álvarez was taken past him, but El Gran Jefe frowned menacingly at the young man and said, “You will die for this, you little cabro! ¡Viva la revolución!”

TUESDAY, JUNE 26th, NOON PDT
BRONSON RESIDENCE, SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA

Natalie Bronson emerged from the house carrying a tray of sandwiches. Her daughter, Karen, came behind her with a pitcher of iced tea and another of lemonade.

Tom and Beau were seated at the beautiful, glass-topped wrought iron table on the shaded patio, with the blue Pacific in the distance. They were joined by Tom’s friend and attorney, Keith Cartier. Keiran and Sami rounded out the group.

The young Peruvian’s eyes were wide with amazement, as in fact they had been from the moment Tom’s private jet landed at Santa Barbara Municipal Airport.

Tom’s friend, the Secretary of Defense, managed to hastily arrange for a visa allowing Sami to enter the United States for an indefinite period of time, utilizing the law that protects refugees whose lives were jeopardized. It helped that Álvarez’ blatant threat was made in the presence of Deputy Ambassador Alton Clifford.

Natalie placed the tray of sandwiches in front of Sami, whose helpless expression told Keiran he was at a loss what to do next. Keiran reached over and took one, bit into it, and smiled at Sami. “Mmm. ¡Muy delicioso!”

Gratefully following Keiran’s lead, Sami helped himself to one of the sandwiches. In Spanish, he exclaimed enthusiastically, “There is so much to eat here, and the people are so kind. I do not know what to say or do.”

Responding in fluent Spanish, Tom assured him, “Don’t worry, Sami. Take your time. You will have plenty of help figuring out this strange new world you’ve been dropped into.”

Good-natured banter and occasional laughter accompanied the lunch.

Tom’s cell phone rang and he excused himself to take the call. When he was inside the house, Ed Hopper informed him, “Your son-in-law is under arrest and faces some serious charges, Tom.”

“Was it what we thought?”

“Yep. The son of a bitch risked the life of his own son for a cut of the two million and a flight to a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”

“How bad will the repercussions be, Ed?”

“Well, he’s cooperating fully with the investigation, and he has agreed not to say anything about our...involvement in the rescue, but he’s still looking at serving hard time, although probably in a minimum-security facility.”

“No less than the bastard deserves, I hope.”

“I’ll do my best to see to it. Are you going to tell the family?”

“Maybe in a month or so. Natalie already has an idea, so I’ll fill her in on the details. Karen and Keiran don’t need to be told until the trial is over—if there is one—and their dad is in jail, though I doubt they’ll want to visit him.”

*****

Keiran and Sami went into the pool house to change. They emerged in swimsuits and plunged into the refreshing cool water. Sami was amazed to find it was summer in California, since it had been the end of autumn in the Southern Hemisphere. The adults were still seated at the patio table, enjoying their drinks.

Watching the young men frolic, Keith turned to Tom. “How are things shaking out in Peru?”

“Álvarez has been arrested and is facing life in prison for the kidnapping and attempted revolution—Peru eliminated the death penalty in 1979. The men at the farm where Keiran was held have all been arrested and are also in jail. El Jefe—actually a sonofabitch named Suares—is doing a lot of talking to save his own ass, but he’ll probably receive a long sentence, too.”

He smiled. “Presidente De La Cruz and all government officials are safe and carrying out their duties, but the country is a bit shaken by how close they came to revolution and dictatorship.”

“What about your money, Dad?” Natalie inquired. “Did you get it all back?”

Tom shook his head. “No. I don’t want it back, My Dear. I have donated it to a charity that builds schools and clinics for the Quechua farmers and their children—not to persuade them to leave their lives in the mountains, but to help them negotiate modern conveniences and health and safety issues.”

Keith agreed. “That was mighty generous of you, Tom, and I’m sure they’ll put up a statue of you somewhere in the country,” he only half-jested.

Tom laughed heartily, “Hell, I hope not. It drives me crazy to think I might have financed a goddamn coup to overthrow my friends in office and allow a dictator to take over.”

*****

Keiran and Sami snuggled in their king-size bed in the pool house where Keiran lived. Their pairing over for the night, they basked in the afterglow of physical pleasure and new-found love. Sami proved to be a quick learner, copying all the sexy moves Keiran had used on him, as well as becoming proficient in the use of condoms and lube.

“Are. You. Happy. You’re. Here?” Keiran enunciated slowly.

“I still...no can...believes it.” Sami answered in broken English. His education was proceeding rapidly, and Keiran was already teaching him American profanity in exchange for the same lesson in Spanish and Quechua.

Leaning over to kiss his new lover, Keiran said, “Believe it. Sometimes, things work out for the best. I’m glad you’re here, and damn it, in some fucked-up way, I’m glad I met you in Peru.”

He laughed, kissed, and pulled Sami to him.

Both were hard again, so they began another round of pleasuring each other.

EPILOGUE

“Wow! That was some fucking hot adventure,” Bill Martin exclaimed.

“It was indeed. I think your young men sounded quite mature for their years,” Harold Smith-Tawes chimed in, “and the way their relationship grew from being the prisoner and the...what was that Spanish word?”

“El Arquero—The Keeper,” Charles Rolfe replied.

“Right, the Keeper. The way the two young men found each other and fell in love under such difficult circumstances was amazing.”

“Not to mention Keiran driving the goddamn rust-bucket truck all over the fucking Andes!” Bill said in admiration.

Rolfe nodded, “I guess, like the two of you, I’ll keep shtum about how much of my tale is based on real events.”

The three laughed. Their flight attendant approached politely.

“It looks like you enjoyed the final tale, gents. Sorry I missed it. May I refresh your drinks? You have just enough time for one more before we need to prepare the cabin for landing at JFK.”

They all agreed and settled back to wait for the last round.

Smith-Tawes brought up an unresolved matter, “I say, Bill. You mentioned something interesting about our stories.”

“Ah, yes.” He took a long drink of his martini. “I was thinking that our three tales, taken together, might make an interesting read for...shall we say...gentlemen like ourselves who share an interest in gay erotic literature?”

Rolfe guffawed, “Crikey! What a bloody great idea!”

“I must concur,” Harold agreed, “but who amongst us has the know-how to pull off such a thing?”

Bill grinned. “Well, I happen to have a few friends in the publishing business in Manhattan. With your permission, I’d like to float the notion of compiling our three ‘tales along the way’ into a single volume. I imagine there’d be considerable interest in such a book, among the right audience.”

Harold and Rolfe looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say, mate.” Rolfe stuck out his hand. “Let’s shake on it, gents.”

Bill took Rolfe’s hand, and Harold added his.

From behind the bar, the flight attendant grinned, eager to get his hands on that book.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

END