“Okay, how many?”
“One. Don’t think he’s seen us yet.”
“All right, you and Carlito circle round and come down on him from the bank. I’ll hold here with Python in case he decides to move. And save your bullets. Let’s take him alive.”
Joel and Carlito left the track and slipped into the undergrowth. Osvaldo waited patiently. After a few minutes he heard a scuffle, followed by muffled shouts and a thump. Shortly, the two gunmen reappeared, dragging a crumpled figure between them.
“Any more?” said Osvaldo as his men flung the individual at his feet.
“Just one,” Joel said. “Like I said.”
“Armed?”
“Just this.” Joel held out a penknife as the prisoner eyed Osvaldo in terror.
“Who the fuck are you?” Osvaldo asked.
“Tris ... Tristán Docampo, sir,” he stammered. “Wh-what’s happening? Are you friends of Roberto?”
“I’ll ask the goddamn questions.” Osvaldo glared. “And if I don’t like the answers, motherfucker, you’re going to die in the most horrible way imaginable.”
38
The Siege
Over the years, men far more hardened than Tristán Docampo had buckled under pressure from Osvaldo Salazar. A terrified young man of twenty was no match for him. The Colombian had little difficulty in getting him to talk, and he was shortly describing everything that had happened on the island over the previous days.
“Let me see if I understand,” said Osvaldo when the boy had finished filling them in. “Right now, your family is laying siege to the house of your sworn enemies, the Freires?”
“That’s right, sir,” Tristán said, gulping. “Please don’t hurt me ...”
“So why aren’t you there with them?”
“I already said! Helena’s inside the Freire house! I refuse to take part in this madness, but I also don’t know how to stop them.”
“Oh right, your girlfriend.” Osvaldo again squeezed his temples. “What a sad tale. And would you like your sweet Helena to go on living?”
“Of course!” Tristán straightened up, summoning a shred of courage from somewhere. “I’d do anything for her!”
“Then be smart and tell me where the money is. That’s all I want to know.”
“The money was in the church, sir, like I said. That’s all I know.”
“We’ve been here already.” Osvaldo puffed out his cheeks. “Try harder, kiddo, or things will get very ugly, very quickly.”
“I’ve told you everything I know!” Tristán protested. “Maybe Roberto knows.”
“Ah, the journalist. And where’s he just now?”
“Beats me.” He shook his head. “I last saw him the day before yesterday, when he was taking Helena home.”
“So he might still be there?”
“I don’t know.” Tristán was trembling. “I’ve already told you everything I know, sir. Please let me go.”
“Not just yet. We’re going to hold on to you just a little bit longer.”
With Tristán between them, Osvaldo and his men set off once more. They soon arrived at the flat area of ground in front of El Cucorno, the Freire family home. Crouching in some bushes, they contemplated the scene.
