The Squire's Tale - 8. Chapter 8

THURSDAY, JUNE 21st, 6:00 PM
LIMATAMBO DISTRICT

The door of the shed opened, allowing a thin beam of sunlight to brighten the prison cell. But as Sami came in with dinner, the expression on his face triggered Keiran’s worst fears.

“What are they going to do with me?”

Powerless to make eye contact or speak, El Arquero shook his head, evading the prisoner’s gaze while placing the bowl of food on the floor. He took one step backward and reached for the door handle.

“Wait! Please, you have to tell me. What is going on?”

Sami’s shoulders sagged as he turned away in silence and secured the door, leaving Keiran shocked and alarmed. The thought of eating the mush turned his stomach. Knowing he would be unable to sleep, he sat alone in the darkness of the night, his thoughts filled with macabre scenarios.

Around midnight, the sound of the key in the lock startled him. Terrified, he pressed his body into the remotest corner of the tiny prison. The door softly opened and closed, and was locked again.

“Sami?” he whispered.

His guard approached and reached out, feeling for Keiran’s face in the dark.

Keiran let out a cry of fear and grief, and Sami pulled him into his arms, offering what little comfort he could, “Lo siento mucho.”

“Why? What are they going to do?”

After a breathless pause, the answer came, “They are going to kill you.” He stifled a sob.

Terrified, Keiran protested, “But why? They have the money. I don’t understand. Don’t they always release the prisoner after they get paid? Won’t people refuse to pay them if they believe their loved one is going to be killed anyway?”

Sami held Keiran and took a deep breath. With shame in his voice, he admitted, “We have never done this before. We are only poor campesinos here. There has not been anyone before you.”

“What? I thought you guys did this all the time.”

“All is a lie. El Jefe wanted you and your family to think we were big crooks.”

“So why now? Why me?”

“I do not know—”

“What? What are you not telling me?”

Sami released his grip on Keiran, leaned back, and spoke disgustedly, “Señor Suares is only jefe of this little shit farm. He is a nobody outside this compound.”

“So who is really in charge?”

“Some gran hombre from Lima. He comes here by airplane and gives El Jefe money, so El Jefe does whatever he is told to do.”

His voice shaking, Keiran asked, “Who is he?”

“I do not know his name, but he came here once before, and he is coming again tomorrow. El Jefe told him he would not kill you until he has his share of the money. El Gran Jefe got very angry, but he could not refuse.”

“Couldn’t he send someone here with the money?”

“I do not think he trusts anyone. I think what he is doing is some gigante secret. He does not even have a pilot—he flies the airplane himself.”

Keiran dissolved in tears, despair nearly paralyzing him.

Sami held him the rest of the night, but neither slept or wanted to make love—they simply clung to each other like brothers.

FRIDAY, JUNE 22nd, 6:00 AM
LIMATAMBO DISTRICT

A couple of hours after Sami left and returned with breakfast, which went uneaten like dinner the night before, Keiran heard the drone of a small airplane’s engine. The sound of wheels touching down on the dirt road leading to the compound sent a jolt of panic coursing through him.

A few minutes later, Pepe unlocked the shed and man-handled the prisoner toward the hacienda.

The cruel guard jammed a canvas bag back over Keiran’s head and tied it tightly around his neck before thrusting him into what he assumed was the room where the previous phone calls had been made,

He shoved Keiran into the room and bound his hands and feet to a chair. The smell of El Jefe’s cigar smoke filling the room brought the sour taste of vomit into the back of his throat. He heard the sound of another person, moving close and walking around him ominously.

“So you are the little faggot,” a cruel male voice said in accented English.

He didn’t respond.

Without warning, the man slapped him hard in the face, knocking the chair over backward. Keiran screamed with the pain.

The man sneered, “And a little marica, too.”

Someone, Pepe he assumed, righted the chair and forced him back into position.

The man brought his face close to the bag and hissed, “Your grandfather wasted two fucking million dollars on a worthless good-for-nothing piece of shit like you. We should have asked for ten million.”

The speaker reached over and grasped Keiran’s chin through the bag. “Are you worth it, boy? Are you really worth all that goddamn money? Why does anyone give a shit whether you live or die?”

When Keiran didn’t speak, the man hit him again, but this time not hard enough to knock the chair down, but still making him yelp with the sudden pain.

“Answer me, you little prick!”

“I– I don’t know.”

The man responded with a sinister laugh.

“I’ll tell you why. It is because your goddamn grandfather is soft. He is not a strong man. He has had an easy life, and he made sure you did, too. He is not worthy to possess his money or his businesses. He is not a leader of men. He is nothing but a fucking bean-counter who got lucky.”

“How do you know my grandfather?”

The man was stymied. He realized he had revealed too much. He turned to El Jefe. “Do what you have been told to do. And make sure it hurts—a lot.”

Turning to Pepe, he ordered in Spanish, “Get this little shit out of here, and don’t go easy on him.”

Keiran felt the rope tying him to the chair removed. Pepe grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and rammed him into the door frame. The sadistic guard propelled him across the compound by shoving him forward until he fell on the ground, kicking him, standing him up again, and repeating the cruel beating, all the way into the shed.

After he chained the prisoner’s ankles, Pepe removed the bag and bent in until his face was an inch from Keiran’s. His breath stank of tobacco and booze as he hissed, “I am going to enjoy killing you, and you are going to suffer every second of it, cabrito.”

He leaned back and spit on the floor. “And your fucking little lover-boy, Sami, will watch—and then I’ll do the same thing to him.”

After the door was locked, Keiran sat stunned.

How could this be? What is going on? These men never kidnapped anybody before. Why does El Gran Jefe from Lima hate my grandfather? What am I going to do? How can I save Sami?

FRIDAY, JUNE 22nd, NOON
LIMATAMBO DISTRICT

Keiran’s head spun with fear and frustration. He thought he would pass out from the strain.

He had been there a while when he heard a soft sound. The key was being inserted into the door. When lock clicked, Sami burst in, turned and locked the door behind him. He rushed over to Keiran and kissed him. He hurried to untie Keiran’s hands and removed the chains from his ankles.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to run away.”

“How? Where? I thought you said the jungle was too dangerous.”

“It is if you are not familiar with it. I know the jungle. We have to try. Come quickly.”

“What about Pepe and the other men?”

“El Jefe is holding a fiesta to celebrate the money they will receive, and the gran hombre from Lima is the guest of honor. They have to find enough courage to do what El Gran Jefe has ordered them to do, so they will all be drunk in half an hour.”

Sami helped Keiran to his feet and steadied him as he stomped feeling back into them. Unlocking the door and opening it a crack, they peered out at the empty courtyard. The brilliant noonday sunshine shot a piercing beam across the shed.

With a last look around at the tiny room that had been his prison for three days, he barked, “Let’s get the fuck outta here!”

They slipped past the door without a sound, and Sami locked it, turned toward the trees and threw the key as far as he could.

“It will not stop them, but it might confuse them and slow them down for a minute or two.”

The two young men ran behind the shed and vanished into the thick undergrowth of the Andean rainforest. Tangled roots and branches beneath their feet made it impossible for them to run, so Sami took Keiran’s hand and wordlessly guided him down a small hill, across a ravine, and up the other side to the edge of a flat dirt road.

As Keiran emerged from the undergrowth, he gasped at what he saw. He grabbed Sami and hugged him.

“What—”

“Look over there.” He pointed to the far end of the road. El Gran Jefe’s airplane was parked facing down the slope, ready to take off.

“So? What good is that thing to us?”

“That is a Cessna 140. I take my flying lessons in the same kind of plane.”

“Flying lessons?”

“Yes, I’m learning to fly. In fact, I’m way beyond learning. I’m ready to take my final flight test, and I’ll be licensed to fly solo.”

“You can fly an airplane?” Sami looked as though he was having difficulty imagining such a thing.

“You bet your sweet ass I can. Now let’s hope the son of a bitch left the fucking keys in the ignition.”

The two re-entered the edge of the jungle and minutes later emerged near the tail of the parked aircraft. Crouching as they ran, they sheltered under the right wing.

“Do you see anyone?”

Sami scanned all around. “No. I told you, they are all at the fiesta. There is no need to guard the airplane, since no one for miles around here knows how to fly.”

“I hope it also means the bastard left the keys. Keep an eye out while I go check.”

Sami crouched in the shadow of the small aircraft looking in every direction as Keiran hugged the fuselage.

He mounted the wing on his knees and crept forward toward the door, finding it unlocked. Opening it cautiously, he stuck his head inside. The temperature in the cockpit must have been over 100 degrees, but he wiped the sweat from his eyes and began searching frantically. The key was not in the ignition switch.

“Fuck!”

Some pilots liked to stash the key out of sight but easily reachable, so he systematically combed through every conceivable hiding place. He opened the two glove boxes and the map pouches on each door, finding nothing. He felt around under both seats and pulled them forward to check behind them. He was getting anxious.

He looked up at the sun visor over the right-hand seat, which was pressed tight against the roof of the cockpit. Desperate, he reached up and inched the flap down. A folded map tumbled to the floor. Keiran probed around the upper side of the visor, including the recess above it. He repeated the actions on the one over the pilot’s seat, but came up empty-handed.

In frustration, he cursed, “Shit! Shit, shit, SHIT!”

Shaking with fury and disappointment, he backed out of the steaming cockpit, off the wing, and back under the fuselage where Sami waited with a questioning face.

With tears in his eyes, Keiran pursed his lips and spoke to his friend, “The fucking son of a bitch must have taken the keys with him.”

“There is no other way to start the airplane?”

He shook his head sadly. “Maybe we could hotwire it, but I don’t know shit about airplane electronics. I’d just as likely disable the whole goddamn thing.”

Sami reached out and drew his friend to him, cradling Keiran’s head in his hands and guiding it to rest on his shoulder. He held and comforted him as his body shook with sobs.

After a minute, Keiran sniffed hard and pulled himself together. Straightening up, he said, “Well, it looks like we’re fucked, but I refuse to give up.” In desperation, he asked, “Are you sure there isn’t any other way out of here? Some vehicle or something?”

Sami shook his head, but stopped, his face brightening. “You can fly an airplane, so can you also drive a truck?”

“What kind of truck?”

“The kind you pull a wagon with.”

“Maybe. Where is this truck?”

Without another word, Sami led Keiran back into the thick vegetation. Moments later, they emerged again in another small clearing. Three vehicles were parked on the side of a dirt road. One was the van in which they had transported him from Cuzco. Another was a beat-up Volvo sedan, and the last was a Ford F150 pickup that appeared to be about a hundred years old.

“What about the van?” Keiran asked hopefully.

“It is out of gas. They have to bring gasoline in cans from the nearest town to fill it up. That is what they use the truck for. I have not seen them bring any since you came here.”

“And the Volvo?”

“I have never seen it run. It might.”

“So, the goddamn truck is our only option?”

“That is all we have here.”

“So let’s fucking go!”

They crawled across the tiny open space, keeping low and making as little sound as possible. Once they reached the truck, Keiran raised his head to look around, alert for any danger. There was no one in sight.

“Isn’t anyone on guard?”

“Why would they be? We are the only people for miles around here, and only El Jefe and Pepe are able to drive.”

Keiran rose to his full height and peered in through the dusty window of the old truck. His eyes searched the interior, looking hopeful.

He chortled, “Yes! The key’s in the ignition. Finally some fucking luck!”

The driver’s door creaked loudly as he opened it an inch at a time. Sami crept around to the passenger side, opening the door with an equal amount of noise. He climbed in and closed it.

Keiran thought for a moment, looking around the interior of the truck’s cab. He opened the glove box and searched around in the clutter inside. Finding what he was seeking, he exclaimed, “Fuckin-A!”

Taking out the hunting knife he found, he said to Sami, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Moving stealthily, Keiran made his way the short distance over to the Volvo. He plunged the knife deep into each of its four tires, pleased to hear the hiss of escaping air. Next, he opened the driver's-side door and reached under the dashboard. He pulled hard and a tangle of wires came out in his hand. In minutes, the vehicle was completely disabled.

I’d better take care of the van, too, just in case they’ve added gas without Sami knowing.

As he edged toward the van with the knife poised in his hand, someone shouted in Spanish, “You there! Stop!”

He froze. The voice came from somewhere close by on the far side of the vehicle.

“Come! Hurry!” Sami cried from the ancient truck.

“Shit!” Keiran turned and bolted, clambering into the truck and slamming the door behind him. He fumbled for the lock and found it.

“Lock your door!” he ordered Sami.

“I do not know how!”

Without waiting to explain, Keiran leaned across him and slammed the lock button down. He turned the key in the ignition. The engine ground loudly trying to turn over but refused to start.

“Goddammit! Come on, you fucker!” Keiran screamed. He turned the key again, with the same result. He pumped the gas pedal a couple of times and tried a third time.

Suddenly the driver’s window beside him was hit with the force of a hammer blow. Keiran jumped almost out of his seat, then turned to see one of El Jefe’s men glaring at him furiously, cursing in Spanish. The man raised his hand, holding a large rock. He slammed the rock into the window again, and the glass cracked but held.

Keiran took a deep breath and pleaded with the aged truck, “Come on, goddammit. You’re the only fucking chance we’ve got.” He turned the key once more, and the old engine reluctantly sputtered before roaring to life. The gas gauge indicated half-full.

“Yeah!” he shouted and Sami said something in Quechua, expressing the same emotion.

The man at the window ran around to the front of the vehicle and tried to open the hood. “Oh no, you don’t, asshole,” Keiran said ominously. He put the truck in reverse and gunned it, causing it to lurch backward with El Jefe’s man still gripping the grille. He was thrown to the ground and tumbled to one side.

Keiran made a sharp left turn around the supine figure and accelerated. This time, the truck pulled away, leaving the angry guard struggling to get to his feet and pursue them.

A small dirt road led away from the clearing. “Where does this go?” Keiran asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know. I never drive anywhere.”

“Well, say a little prayer it leads away from here.” Sami closed his eyes and began to whisper. Keiran glanced at him, astonished, but didn’t interrupt him.

The dirt road wound around a few massive trees and opened into another clearing. Keiran looked into the side-view mirror to his left and froze. Behind them at the top of a small hill stood El Jefe’s compound. Men were emerging from the main building, shouting. At least one of them had a handgun, but they were too far away to do any damage.

Spinning the steering wheel to the right, Keiran raced away, downhill and back into dense jungle. “I guess this leads out of here,” he said, and Sami nodded vigorously.

They drove in silence, each still breathing hard. Keiran couldn’t go very fast because the road was rutted, with constant twists and turns and he had no way of knowing when the next one was coming up. After perhaps fifteen minutes, the dirt track ended in a T at a small paved road. He stopped and looked up and down the deserted lane. The way to the left led uphill, and the right went in the opposite direction.

“Any idea which way?”

Sami considered both ways and pointed to the right, “Down the hill. Toward the river and town.”

Keiran made the turn and picked up speed. This worn-out country road was a hell of a lot better than the dirt path they had started out on, but they still bounced and jolted over the uneven terrain. Keiran glanced into the rearview mirror, ice shooting up and down his spine. “Shit! Goddammit! That fucking van is behind us.”

Terrified, Sami turned around to look. Keiran said sarcastically, “I thought you said it was out of gas.”

“I am sure it was. I guess they must have brought some up from the town.”

Without another word, Keiran stomped on the gas pedal. The tires screeched as he fishtailed around several hairpin turns. Each time the road straightened out, he checked behind them. The van was still a half mile behind them but gradually closing on the truck.

On one of the sharp turns, the shattered glass in the driver’s window fell out and hit the ground behind them. “Fuck. This old heap can’t outrun that motherfucker.” They entered another stretch of jungle, and the van disappeared from view. There was a Y in the road ahead. Keiran braked and slowed to a crawl.

“What are you doing?” Sami cried out in terror, “Keep going!”

“You’ll see.”

He delicately maneuvered into the left-hand lane. The truck moved so slowly that it kicked up no dust at all. Rather than leaving tracks by driving in the ruts, he chose a path along the grassy center hump and one side of the road. He inched forward several hundred yards until they rounded a bend out of sight of the Y.

Fascinated at his former prisoner’s brilliant decision, Sami asked, “How did you decide to take this one?”

“When you aren’t sure where the roads go, the natural instinct is to take the one on the right. Let’s hope they fell for it.”

The new route soon took them over a one-lane wooden bridge across a deep and wide chasm with a small river churning at the bottom. On the other side, the road straightened, and Keiran picked up the pace, but soon Sami pointed to the right and exclaimed, “Look! They are on the other side!”

Turning to see what had attracted his passenger’s attention, Keiran saw their pursuers. They had done as he predicted and taken the path on the other side of the river. Their van was now matching his speed. The two vehicles raced in parallel with the raging torrent separating them.

Flashes of light appeared, followed by the sound of gunshots. The distance across the gorge was too great for the bullets to reach the speeding truck, but the men were shooting wildly in their direction anyway. Keiran sped up, but the other driver did the same.

“Kee-rahn! There is another bridge!” Sami pointed a mile ahead.

The driver of the van saw it, too, and he floored his accelerator. Keiran did likewise, hoping the ancient truck had a little more to give. The two vehicles jockeyed to reach the bridge first. Keiran flew past as the van slowed to make the sharp turn, trundled across the rickety span and took up the pursuit, now only a few hundred yards behind the truck.

The pavement narrowed as it began to ascend. To the left of the single lane was a steep slope up the side of the mountain, while to the right was a precipitous drop-off that fell to the rapids below.

On the hill above the road, a man with binoculars spoke quietly into his radio, “Two vehicles approaching, Sir.”

“Identify.”

“An old Ford F150 and a beat-up Mercedes van. They’re both haulin' ass like a bat outta hell.”

“Can you make out the drivers?”

The soldier made an adjustment to the binocs and steadied them. “Holy fuckin’ shit, Sir. It’s the kid. Goddamn!”

Red Leader reached over and another soldier handed his field glasses to him. He peered toward the approaching vehicles.

“Confirmed. Get a couple of men down there pronto.”

He picked up his radio, “You guys see the truck and the van?”

The reply came clearly, “Yes, Sir. Got them in our sights.”

The commander spoke to his snipers, “The one in front is our mission. Take out the one in back.”

“Sir!”

Seconds later, two shots rang out in the little valley. At first nothing happened. Then one of the van’s tires exploded. The vehicle swerved right and left precariously but soon stabilized, continuing its pursuit of the truck with the blown-out tire flapping off until the van was running on the steel rim alone.

Another shot was fired, and the driver’s window shattered. Blood splattered on the windshield, and the van veered sharply to the right, leaving the roadway and arcing out into empty air, tumbling end-over-end in slow motion until it shattered on the rocks in the river at the bottom of the gorge. The muted sound of an explosion echoed in the canyon, and black smoke billowed up for a minute or two, followed by eerie silence.

In the truck, Keiran slammed the brakes and skidded to a stop, shaken by the violence of what had happened. “What the fuck? Who did that?”

Sami pointed in awe as four soldiers in camos rapidly slid down the hillside and clambered to their feet in front of the truck, weapons at the ready across their chests.

“Are you Keiran Bronson?” one of them inquired.

“Yes! Who the hell are you?”

The man who had asked the question stepped to the driver’s window. “I’m Captain Carson Stone, Sir. I’m damn glad to find you in one piece.”

“You and me both.”

The officer regarded the passenger with suspicion, then turned to Keiran with concern.

“Oh, this is Sami. He helped me escape. He’s a good guy.”

Accepting the explanation, Stone asked, “Are you both OK to walk? Do you think you can climb this hill? A copter is on the way to pick us up.”

“Fuck yeah!” Keiran exclaimed. “Come on, Sami!”