Osvaldo smiled to himself. He held all the aces, and he knew it. Once again, he was getting to show his expertise. He would soon have one very happy boss.
When they reached the old church, the gunmen herded the group into a corner of the graveyard, up against a wall, forcing them to sit on the ground with their hands clasping their necks. The tension had built up even more on the short walk, and the Colombians were increasinglybrusque. Dawn’s arrival left them under no illusions as to the need for haste, and the accumulated fatigue and nerves were beginning to tell.
Carlito and Joel guarded the hostages while Osvaldo and Python followed Diego over to Erundina’s grave. Osvaldo eyed the ramshackle monument suspiciously.
“It’s this one.” Diego nodded vehemently.
“Okay, kid, get back to your family.” He patted him on the back. “We’ll take it from here.”
Python picked up a branch—the very same one Roberto had used—and did likewise in making a lever of it. Leaning his considerable weight on it, he succeeded in lifting the tombstone, which he and Osvaldo, now able to get their hands around it, heaved aside.
Osvaldo peered into the grave. Inside were the two duffel bags. He pulled them out and immediately unzipped one. He sighed with relief at the sight of the jumbled wads of euros, dollars, and Swiss francs. He quickly checked the other bag too. He didn’t have time to count the money, but it looked like it was all there.
He got up and dusted off his pants.
“We good?” Python said.
“We sure are.”
He glanced around. In the growing light, the graveyard looked bucolic, like a picture postcard. The old church, the gravestones, the flower beds—just perfect for what he had in mind next.
“Carlito, separate the two families,” he said. “And bring one of the groups over to the church.”
Carlito hurriedly did as he was told. There were murmurs of concern and a few shouts of protest, but the guns pointed at their heads quelled any possible revolt. The families were separated, and the Freires were herded over to the front of the church.
“No, not like that.” Osvaldo moved around the graveyard, observing the group with great concentration, like a director of photography. “Not so tight, give them some space. That’s right, that’s good. Now, the other group on the other side. A little farther away. That’s it.”
Osvaldo turned around, taking one final look. The islanders were positioned across the graveyard in two almost symmetrical lines, some twenty feet between the two. Some of them were trembling, fearing the worst.
Osvaldo approached Python, gun in hand. “You know what to do, don’t you?” he whispered.
The man nodded, glowering. “Leave no witnesses.”
“Leave no witnesses,” Osvaldo repeated. “You and I will take care of the ones on the right. Joel and Carlito can do the ones on the left. Nice and quick, nice and clean, okay?”
“They’ll start running,” Python said. “There’re too many of them.”
“No, even better.” Osvaldo stroked his temples. “Then it’ll look like they did each other. The more scattered about the corpses, the better. We wipe the guns and leave them in their hands.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Let the Spanish cops lose their minds trying to figure out what went down.”
Python transmitted the orders to the other two, who silently went and stood between the two lines. A few cries and pleas began to be heard.
“What’s going on?” Diego was holding Antía tight. “Are the bad men leaving? Why are they separating us?”
“Oh, Diego.” Antía wrapped her arms around him. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“You sons of bitches,” cried Ramón Docampo. “You swore you’d let us go!”
“Well, Don Ramón, you know better than anyone the consequences of stealing in this business.” Osvaldo gave him one of his reptilian looks, but the old man glared defiantly back. “I am sorry. It’s nothing personal.”
The Colombians raised their guns, readying to shoot. A chorus of cries rose up from the cowering islanders as they awaited the imminent hail of bullets.
The sound of gunshots was deafening, so loud that it must have been heard on the other side of the island.
40
The Ambush
But it wasn’t the hail of bullets that Osvaldo had been envisaging.
