The Docampos had created a barricade out front, with piled-up garbage containers, pieces of timber, and overturned boats. From there, a group of them were keeping the house under constant fire.
The facade of the old farmhouse was riddled with shot and bullets, and several windows had been smashed. From time to time, the muzzle of a rifle would appear at one of them, shooting blindly in the direction of the Docampos, who would instantly and wildly return fire.
The assault on El Cucorno, if it could be counted as such, had not succeeded. A kind of stalemate seemed to have set in, and neither side appeared to know how to end the game.
Very good,thought Osvaldo. They were total amateurs, just as he’d imagined.
“Joel, you stay here with the kid. Carlito, Python, with me. Nice and quiet, you two.”
Treading lightly, the three Colombians broke cover. Speed was of the essence because, although the Docampos’ backs were to them, the defenders inside the house might spot them, and there was no telling how they might react.
Osvaldo, with his two men alongside, felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. In situations where he might have his head blown off, he felt strangely serene, almost happy.
Although he’d never stopped to think about it, Osvaldo Salazar was the kind of person who, in situations where people usually lost their cool, became singularly lucid. Everything shone with a special light, every detail stood out sharply as time slowed down. It was a magical sensation. You could almost say he enjoyed the challenge.
Creeping up behind Ramón Docampo, he thrust the barrel of his Beretta into the back of the old man’s head. Ramón stiffened in surprise. Meanwhile, Carlito and Python had done the same with Luis Docampo and another of the men behind the barricade. The surprise was total. The rest of the Docampos looked on, dumbfounded, with no idea who these new arrivals were or where they’d sprung from.
“Tell them to drop their weapons,” Osvaldo commanded. “Or the next thing they’ll see is your brains all over the floor.”
Ramón tried to turn his head, but Osvaldo thrust his gun harder against the old man’s neck. Osvaldo glanced across at his men, a strange electricity in his body. This was the key moment. If the Docampos realized that there were only three of them and reacted, a bloodbath would ensue.
“Tell them to drop them,” he insisted. “Now.”
“Fuck you,” growled the old man. “I’m not going to ...”
“We’ve got your grandson, Tristán, back there, with a gun just like this one to his head.” Osvaldo pressed a little harder. “If you want his blood on your hands, that’s no problem ...”
Ramón turned pale, seeming to visibly deflate. Then, in a broken voice, he said, “Drop them!”
“But, Father!” Luis exploded.
“They’ve got your boy, you idiot!” he retorted. “Do as I say!”
Osvaldo, keeping his eyes on the old man, heard rifles and hatchets clatter to the ground. The satisfaction was mixed with a touch of disappointment. It was a little too easy for his liking.
Carlito went along the barricade, grabbing the weapons and then making a pile of them at Osvaldo’s feet. Osvaldo finally allowed the old man to turn and face him.
“Who are you?” said Ramón, eyes blazing. “Where are you from? Do you work for the Freire family?”
Osvaldo shook his head.
“I’ve come to get something that belongs to me, Don Ramón.” He stroked his temples slowly, gun still raised. “You know what I’m talking about.”
He was pleased to see the old man turn ashen. Always an intriguing moment. Sometimes when it dawned on people whom they were dealing with, they actually pissed themselves.
“We ... We don’t know where the money is, I swear.”
“But you knew it was ours, didn’t you?” Osvaldo clicked his tongue. “Your grandson told us everything. You should have been smarter and not gotten mixed up in this. You know how the business works.”
“They’ve got it!” Ramón pointed at the house, fury breaking through his fear. “Those traitorous sons of bitches—you should kill the lot of them!”
“I’m sure you’d love that, but I’m the only one deciding who lives or dies today.”
“It’s like a castle, that house. You won’t get them out of there unless you’ve brought a cannon.”
“Oh, I won’t need one.” Osvaldo looked up at the house. “I’ve got a much better idea. Joel! Bring me the boy!”
Joel appeared from up the bank with Tristán by the collar, manhandling him as they moved down to the barricade.
