Leaving the jeep, he stalked back into the mansion. Just before the opened door, he turned to Salina. ‘Get in the house. I want to talk to you.’ He was so angry that even Salina decided to comply. Alex stalked into the house, straight to the bar where he poured himself a very large, very matured whisky. He didn’t ask what she wanted.
Alex was seething. He turned to face her. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing? She’s my sister, for fuck’s sake.’
She just stood there, not answering.
‘Did you think you could just get this past me, that I wouldn’t find out?’
‘It would already have been done.’ She answered serenely, walking to the bar and pouring herself a glass of the same whisky. She held the bottle up. ‘A refill?’ she asked sweetly. He was flabbergasted. She put her glass and the bottle down.
‘Oh, come on Alex. She might be your sister, but she and that bitch Tonal are also your—no our—biggest enemies. They begrudge you your happiness. How much do you have to do for them, for this country, before it is enough? How much more do we need to sacrifice before you can finally have what you want and need from life? What you deserve. They didn’t love you, not really. Otherwise they would have been happy that you had found your soul-mate, that you were finally happy. But what did they do? They left. They couldn’t win and stalked off like the two spoiled brats that they are. They abandoned you. You hear me, ABANDONED you.’
It sounded so ridiculous, but at the same time, some of the things she said rang true. They had abandoned him. They had left at his finest moment when he had wanted to celebrate his newfound happiness with those closest to him. They had deserted him. Hated him. But still… …
‘Well maybe they were right.’ He screamed at her. ‘Look at what you do to me now. You make a laughing stock out of me. Screwing around with anything with a dick. Tonal warned me about you. Said you were only out for status and money.’ Refilling his glass, he turned his back to her.
He felt her move closer. Her arms slowly, softly encircled his waist. She pressed her tight body against his back. He could feel himself melt. His anger seeping out of his pores and being replaced with lust and what was it? Yes, still love. He hated himself for this. How could he still love her after she tried to kill Dulce. How easily she manipulated him. But she was his lifeline. His reason for living. He couldn’t live without her. And they had left.
‘My love’ she said softly and seductively. ‘You know you’re my reason for living. That I breathe only to please you. I will behave, I’m sorry. It’s my history, I can’t help it sometimes. But if you help me, then we can start again.’
He felt his resolve fade even further, his anger dissipated. He couldn’t stay angry at Salina. But this was just too much. She had tried to kill his only sibling. The only one left of his history. And Tonal. Even though that would never have happened. Nothing could kill Tonal, But Salina didn’t know that. Determined to stay angry, he disentangled himself from her arms. Turning, he threw the last drops of his whisky down his throat and pushed Salina out of the way. ‘What you do is up to you, I couldn’t care less.’ He said and stalked out of the room.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
All Tonal had said was true. He’d abandoned all his ideals. And what for? For a wife who didn’t love him, a position that was a straightjacket—forever tightening—his country a spoilt and unthankful child. He sank down in the bedroom sofa and took his head in both hands. How was he ever going to get out of this?
How was he going to stop her from killing him?
CHAPTER NINETY
Sitting alone in the back of the helicopter Alex pondered his options. He had no illusions about the revolutionaries, having been one himself. Their resolve was one hundred percent. He knew how tenacious people like Jesus and Dulce could be. Not to mention Tonal. It was pure survival for him now. There were basically two options. Fold or fight.
As expected Salina had stayed at the mansion. Secure in the knowledge that the revolutionaries had come for Alex—not for her—and that they’d left. Three of the security detail stayed there as well. With a sharp pain in his heart Alex recalled how she had chosen the three most handsome and robust bodyguards to keep her company, and no doubt entertained. Her infidelity was already legendary. Angry about the assassination attempt on Dulce and Tonal and her involvement, Alex hadn’t spoken to Salina at all since the morning. But still it hurt.
Telling her he was about to change his strategies and revert finances back to the population would probably not help their relationship either.
He had decided to fold. His conscience had been plaguing him for the past years and it was time to do something about his mismanagement. His decision to revert back to his initial goals and ideals offered him some peace. It would not be easy, that was for sure. There were all kinds of interests involved here, and all kinds of people. People he should have stood up to a long time ago. Dangerous people.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Back at his office in the capitol, Alex started to prepare to implement his new resolves. He called the finance and education ministers to a meeting. The two men arrived somewhat curious about why they had been summoned. Generally, they decided on the strategies and Alex only ratified them.
They were astonished and furious that Alex ordered full disclosure on all financial and educational budgets. What was the money being spent on and particularly, what were they doing about aiding the poor? The tension was palatable. Pacing the room, Enrique Salazar, the minister of finance, barely restrained his anger.
‘What is this shit? Since when, do I need to justify every cent that’s in my budget?’ Alex was not impressed and calmly took in the spectacle.
‘Don’t you trust me anymore, or us?’ gesturing to his equally aggravated colleague Antonio Esposito.
‘Don’t fool yourself’ was Alex’s calm reply. ‘I’ve never trusted you. And I don’t doubt that the feeling is mutual. Only now I have decided that I want to be more involved with what is happening in my name, and with this country’s money.’ It felt good to finally stand up to these creeps. ‘As of now I will personally approve every budget payment above two-hundred-thousand.’ The effect of his words on the faces on the ministers was priceless. Flabbergasted Salazar sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. His incredulous gaze first centred on Alex, only to pass to his fellow minister, desperately seeking some support.
‘You can’t do that’ Esposito blustered ‘It’s undemocratic… … It’s against the laws… … it’s it’s…’
‘It’s what?’ Alex demanded, slowly tiring of the two men. ‘That’s a laugh coming from you Salazar—undemocratic. Since when are you interested in anything democratic? Well now’s a good time to start. I expect detailed plans from both of you by Wednesday. In the plans you will specify a new strategy to aid the poor, offer free education and explain where the money will be rerouted from.’
‘You are dismissed.’ The final insult. Fuming, both men left the office. Alex sat back and mulled over what he had just done. His power was based on the allegiance of these men. No longer the people’s hero, he had sold his soul to the upper-class and the politicians. Accustomed to the luxury and wealth that he and Salina had amassed in the past years, he wondered how he would convince his greatest supporter that this was the right choice. To go back to the support of the people. That meant alienating the upper-class and basically walking a tightrope for the coming time. This was not something that Salina was going to enjoy. Despite his anger at her actions regarding Dulce—and her infidelity—she was still the love of his life. Maybe misguided, but he was certain that they would climb out of the pit together and once again be happy and content with less. Like they had in the beginning. At the time they had been with the revolutionaries. They had lived on meagre rations and their love. It had been enough then. It would be enough once again. Well maybe not the meagre rations, that was pushing it. But they could definitely do with less. Who knows—in time—maybe Dulce and Tonal would eve
n forgive them a bit and maybe they could even meet again, under less stressful circumstances. He would discuss this with Salina the moment she came back. Thinking about her like this, he realised that he missed her already. He phoned her mobile, got the voice mail. Forcing himself not to dwell on why she would not answer at this time of the day, he waited for the beep.
‘Salina, it’s me. I’m sorry that I was so brusque yesterday. I was just so surprised and angry about Dulce. And quite thrown that they had been able to penetrate our defences. Anyway, I miss you, and I wish you were here with me. Please come back as soon as possible, we have a lot to discuss about how to tackle this, together.’
She hadn’t been in the middle of a heated love bout as he suspected. She was on the phone with the Prime Minister. She was filled with rage at what had happened What did Alex think he was doing? This was all the result of the meeting with that bitch Tonal. Alex’s conscience was playing up, or he was frightened, probably both. He was such a wimp. So easily manipulated, so fickle. In all, that had been advantageous for her, making it easy for her to shape him into what she wanted. The status, wealth and power she had were her only motives for the marriage. He was a means to an end. One day she would get rid of him and the allegiance of the ministers would shift to her only. Frankly this was already the case, but they needed the front man—the old hero. Even that shine was fading, and if he continued on the path he had obviously chosen, his use would evaporate even faster. But it was too soon—she was not ready yet. She would be a second Eva Peron. Only better.
After the had listened to the voicemail she resolved to get back to the capitol a.s.a.p. Turning back to the bed she addressed the bodyguard.
‘Get the helicopter back here and prepare to leave.’ He shot up out of the covers.
‘Not yet, you fool’ she added seductively, moving back to the cushions and the handsome naked man. ‘Afterwards.’
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Saline returned to the capitol late in the evening, surprising Alex who was unaware that she had left the mansion. He was ecstatic when she flung herself tearfully into his arms, proclaiming her undying love and adoration. The night was passionate. No mention was made of Alex’s new plans.
Making sure that he was sated and glowing from the attention she bestowed on him, Salina finally broached the subject. It would do no good to directly oppose his ideas. That would only strengthen his resolve. Softly stroking his chest, she pretended enthusiasm. Lulling him into disclosing what he wanted to do, only giving small seemingly unimportant comments on details, she planted the seed for what she would cultivate in the following days, or if necessary weeks.
When the Ministers came to present their plans for the finance and educational support for the poor, Salina was standing behind Alex. As agreed, the Ministers were calm and complacent. The plans didn’t have as far-reaching goals as Alex wanted, but he let Salina dampen his disappointment by viewing this as the first step. He barely registered the lack of opposition that the Ministers gave, chalking it up to his persuasive talents. They were coming around to his way of thinking. Ok, Rome wasn’t built in one day. He would be patient. At least they all agreed.
The conspiratory glances that the Ministers and Salina shared belied his conclusions. But he missed them. They were once again playing him. Salina had managed to convince them that the way to achieve their goal was through deception. They would string Alex along—as they had done for so long. Let him think that he was making a difference. In the meantime, all results would be minimal—highly marketed and publicised for his sake—but minimal. In the end, they were sure that this “for the people” phase would fade. It had before, and otherwise they would look for a more permanent solution. The main thing was that they were once again in control.
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
Initially the propaganda worked—soothing the misgivings that Dulce and Tonal had. Billboards were hung up indicating new educational plans for small villages and town schools. Government officials visited some of the poor families and promised help. New initiatives were started. Small food banks were instated where the needy could go to get the bare essentials. The propaganda machine ran full steam, Alex’s face was once again prominent, wit—naturally—his ever-loving wife at his side.
Relieved, Dulce was quick to believe that Alex really was changing. After all, the evidence was there. Tonal and Jesus were less gullible, anticipating that this was all too good to be true and that Salina would not give up her privileges without a fight. They tuned down the revolutionary activities and waited.
The farce continued for three months before the resistance concluded that it was all promise and propaganda. Nothing really worthwhile changed. Sure, there was some food available, but that flow was drying up fast. The rest were empty promises. None of the schools had received any additional funds. Corruption was ever present, and no real improvements were made. The outside still looked good, but it was skin deep. In the end no progress was made. The initial optimism was fading. Any opposition was quickly quelled—secretly, so that no word reached Alex. In the middle of the night people were lifted from their beds and taken away, never to be heard of again. Rumours of midnight executions were substantiated when the revolutionaries found a mass grave.
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
Standing at the edge of the pit my heart sank. So this was the extent of Alex’s conversion back to his old values and his commitment to helping his country’s people. The smell was overwhelming causing most of the revolutionaries to gag and divert their faces. Beneath the steep dirt walls of the pit, the level floor was littered with decaying bodies. Rats and other scavengers scuttled over the corpses, angry that their feeding had been interrupted. I counted what I thought were at least thirty-seven dead bodies. Men were predominant, but I also saw women and even two small children. Many of the bodies carried gunshot and machete wounds, some were missing extremities. Heads had been bashed in—the children’s as well. The earth was haphazardly thrown back over some of the bodies, insufficient to conceal what was there, but enough to show how little respect there had been. Littered around the pit were empty liquor bottles, used condoms and a burnt-out campfire. All evidence of a wild violent party that had taken place here. A party culminating in the deaths of all these people.
I heard one of our group cry out and run to the edge of the jungle where he lost his last meal.
‘The fire’ he gagged. Moving over to the embers I saw what had spooked him. There at the bottom of the smouldering logs were the remains of a third child. Not much older than a baby. The corpse was still recognisable as having been human.
What kind of monster burns a baby—maybe alive? I hoped against hope that the child had been dead before it was tossed into the fire. Images filled my mind: of the child, its screams, the mother desperate to save her infant, maybe the father trying to attack the killers. Ortiz had been a monster, but this matched whatever he had done. My blood started to boil, the familiar tension flared, and a red mist clouded my sight. I willed it to subside, I fought for control. The hairs on my back and arms were pushing through the skin. Hector’s restraining hand on my arm helped. It made me focus. The only living people here were friends, I couldn’t lose control and possibly hurt them. It was deathly quiet—all eyes on me. They were all pale, holding assorted pieces of material to their noses to try to dampen the smell of decay.
‘Document everything.’ Hector took change of the scene. ‘We need streams of the bodies and the fire.’ His words had the intended result and the revolutionaries bustled into action.
Pointing to the jungle I told Hector that I would explore the tree-line for evidence or anything that could point us in the direction of who was responsible for the massacre.
Slowly patrolling the undergrowth, I tried to shut out the smell of the decomposing bodies from the pit and concentrate on other foreign scents. My heightened senses giving me an edge over the rest. The findings however were meagre: a few cigarette butts, human excrement and some tyre
tracks. The deep tracks suggested that the people had been brought here by truck. A lingering smell of diesel substantiated that. I counted three individual sets of tracks. Three trucks. Judging by the profiles they had been military trucks. Leading from the place where the tracks were deepest and had probably parked, were many human footmarks. The ones in the centre mostly from unshod feet, the ones on the outside bearing the heavy markings of a soldier’s boots. Another confirmation that the perpetrators had been military.
Moving back to the terrible scene I shared my suspicions with Hector. They were consistent with other evidence that had been found. The conclusion was obvious.
‘I’m so glad that we left Dulce back at the compound.’ Hector said. ‘She didn’t need to see this. The ramifications will break her heart.’
Dulce was desperately hoping against hope that her brother had changed, that he really was the old Alex and that things would go back to something resembling how they used to be. Hector and I had tried to temper her enthusiasm when she saw the billboards and other signs, which she immediately translated to what she needed. She was adamant—Alex had listened, and it was just a matter of time before things would improve.
The realisation that the terror had upped a notch would devastate her. It would mean that she really would have to fight her only sibling—her beloved brother.
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