by Jerold Last
“I think our next problem is what we want to do with this body before it starts getting light out here,” I suggested.
“Not to worry,” Eduardo assured me. “I took the precaution of renting a car this afternoon just in case I needed it to follow you. Help me get Felix into the car, then you can go back to your room and let Suzanne know that everything is all right while I drive out into the desert 50 miles or so and find a good place to bury the body. All in all, I think you made a good decision not to try to have me arrest him. Our surreal serial killings should be over, and that will satisfy everybody concerned. That includes the police in Chile, Peru, and Bolivia and the little enclave of your countrymen here in Iquique. I’ll make sure that Vincent finds a good way to get Jaime Alarcon home to Arica without his customary pilot in some discrete way.
“Leave all of the cleanup chores to me. You get some sleep and plan to have fun with Suzanne doing some sightseeing later today. Start making your plans to go home. I think our biggest chore still to do is figuring out the best story to explain how all of this happened to Vincent in a way that makes him happy. I need to make sure he’s cool with it before I ask him to arrange to take Jaime Alarcon and his airplane home, explain to Jaime and everybody else’s satisfaction where Felix Figueroa disappeared to, and make sure there isn’t any blowback on you or me from the CIA. I’ll give you a call after I finish my garbage disposal run and get some sleep and we can figure out where and when we should all get together. You can invite Vincent to join us for lunch if you think that’s a good idea.”
Back at the room Suzanne was awake, out of bed, dressed, and waiting anxiously for me. She had obviously been crying, but I decided to ignore that and chalk it up to overenthusiastic hormones. I assured her that everything was OK and the bad parts were all over. I got a great hug, a long kiss, and dragged back onto the bed. Eventually we got to sleep for a couple of hours before a call from Eduardo woke us up with just enough time to grab a croissant and cup of coffee for breakfast on the way out of the hotel to meet Eduardo, who was waiting for us in the front passenger seat of Vincent's car with Vincent driving.
“When are you planning on telling me all that happened?” asked Suzanne.
“Later on today at lunch with Eduardo and Vincent. That way I’ll only have to tell it once.”
“Not good enough. I need to know more now.”
“OK. The killings are all over. The bad guy is gone, permanently. The good guys got a clean win this time. We shouldn’t be in any danger anymore.”
“Do you realize that you can be infuriating?” Suzanne asked. “But if that’s all you’re going to tell me for now, that’s enough to hold me until lunch.”
"Like I said before, Suzanne, you know everything I knew before the phone call at 3 AM this morning. My theories I told you about were exactly correct, including who the Surreal Killer actually was. See if you can figure it all out before lunch. Expect a pop quiz then."
"I think I already have it all worked out. For now I'll just hazard a guess that either you or Eduardo killed Felix Figueroa down there. But I'll play the game and show Eduardo and Vincent how smart we both are and why they need us to solve all of their difficult cases if that's what you'd like."
"And I still owe you a bad pun from after we went to bed the second time last night, or more correctly, this morning. How about a quickie?"
"Why did the zoo biologist transfer from studying pythons to studying monkeys?"
"Why?"
"Because the python had a crush on her."
Chapter 21. The Denouement and Tourism
We had gotten a few hours of sleep before Eduardo had called to say he'd be by in half an hour to pick us up for a full day of unspecified activities, which would be explained later on a need-to-know basis.
"Dress casual," was all he had to say about where and what awaited us.
That left us time for a quick shower and shave and to grab a cup of coffee and a croissant for breakfast on the run.
Waiting for us outside was a car containing Eduardo and Vincent.
"Jump in," said Vincent, the driver, pointing to the back seats. "Eduardo and I have both been very busy while you were both getting your beauty sleep. All will become clear shortly."
We drove directly, and quickly, to the airport, where Vincent parked by the Beechcraft Baron. Jaime Alarcon stood waiting beside the plane. Vincent did a quick preflight check and directed us into the plane with Eduardo riding shotgun. Eduardo carried a big basket, which looked like our lunch for today.
"I don't remember if I told you," said Vincent, "but I'm a licensed pilot and I've logged hundreds of hours in this little toy, and thousands of hours flying its predecessors up here. Our first stop on today's flight is Arica, which you'll get a great view of from the air as we descend. We'll drop Jaime off, then fly to a very special place I want you to visit before you leave the Atacama region. We can talk during the second leg of the flight."
We flew over the extensive irrigated agriculture of the Azapa Valley, where vegetables and olives for all of Chile are grown, as we approached Arica. The Valley, which is a large oasis in the Atacama desert, reminded Suzanne and me of the Coachella Valley in Southeast California, where many of the winter vegetables that feed the United States are grown, as well as year-round crops that are grown intensively.
We did a quick stop at the large international airport to drop off Jaime, who was still looking a little dazed about why the four of us were flying him north rather than Felix, and about what he had been told about what had happened to Felix. We said our goodbyes and took off to the south. When we reached our cruising altitude Vincent made a few adjustments to the throttle and trim, the plane's interior quieted down, and we could talk.
"Our next scheduled stop is San Pedro de Atacama, in less than two hours," declared Vincent.
Eduardo announced that it was finally time to bring everyone to speed about the events of the last 24 hours and to say goodbye to the Surreal Killer.
"OK, Vincent, you get to go first again," said Eduardo.
"I got a call from Eduardo in the middle of the night. He told me to figure out how to fly Jaime to Arica this morning so he wouldn't be hanging around Iquique conspicuously without Felix, and to keep the day open so we could talk privately about the case, which was just about solved. He was pretty coy about giving me any more details. I would speculate that we won't be seeing any more of Felix, which may complicate things for the remaining agents around here a bit, but I don't think that's my problem any more."
"Brief, succinct, superficial," said Eduardo. "We'll be hearing more from you in a little bit, Vincent."
"My turn next," continued Eduardo. "I listened in on a call from Felix to Roger a little while before I called Vincent. Of course, I didn't know it was Felix at the time. He promised Roger some crucial information if he met him at the beach. This was, of course, the fruit of our strategy to set the Surreal Killer up to try to kill Roger and Suzanne. Roger went out to meet him, taking the obvious precaution of slipping out the back door of the hotel and anticipating an attack before he ever got to the beach. I was at the front door of the hotel, ready to respond as soon as I saw or heard anything and planning to follow Roger to the beach at a discrete distance. I had taken a few other steps in preparation for the different contingencies that we anticipated. I'll explain these in my next installment. Roger, I think it's your turn now."
"We got the call at about 3 A.M. that you just heard about. I couldn't tell who it was by the voice; it was carefully muffled to prevent me from recognizing who was calling. Poor Suzanne got the hard part, having to wait in our hotel room to find out what was going on. I went down the back way and took reasonable precautions. I went down the west side of the building and spotted him right around the side corner to the front. One thing you probably do need to know, he wasn't very good at this so you didn't lose an A-1 spy. I don't know if he was a little bit off his game because the killings had been so easy until now, or whether he under
estimated us and just assumed I'd be as easy to kill as all the women before me. I was able to get right behind him before he knew I was there. My favorite martial art is Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, so once I was able to get him on the ground it was pretty much all over. I had to kill him in self-defense. I was so shaken up that Eduardo had to take over and clean up the scene while I went back to bed."
It was Eduardo's turn again. "Despite his tremendous shock after killing a man and his being so shaken up by the experience, Roger was able to help me carry Felix's body to the rental car I had leased yesterday in case I had to follow Roger somewhere. I drove out into the desert a pretty long way and buried the bastard deep enough that nobody will ever find him. I called Vincent to tell him that the bad news was that he had some arrangements to make and that Felix wouldn't be coming back, but the good news was that the Surreal Killer had done his last killing. I think you're next, Vincent."
"After I got Eduardo's call I did a little scampering around and let everyone know that our colleague Felix had quite suddenly decided to emigrate from Chile after meeting the woman of his dreams from a cruise ship, and that we wouldn't be seeing him again. I told Jaime when and where to meet us and that I'd fly him to Arica in the Beechcraft, but that he had to make all of the arrangements with the people at the Arica airport to fly down and pick up the plane in Iquique since the pilot who had rented it was indisposed indefinitely. They'll take care of it in the next day or two and just bill Jaime for the extra gas they need for the trip down and back. And that's it for my update.
"I get the impression that Roger is the least likely person to be shocked and shaken currently sitting in this airplane," continued Vincent. "So you must be trying to tell me something. Is that about right, Eduardo?"
"It's time to lose all the 'need to know' mierda and open up if you expect us to be frank with you, Vincent. I think I'll give you a pass on not telling us you're a pilot because we didn't need to know it, but it might have made things a whole lot clearer for us if we knew that last week."
"OK, the truth is that I've spent almost my entire adult life as a spy and being honest with people doesn't come easily to me. I'll try to put all of my cards on the table this time," replied Vincent. "I told the senior CIA guys in Iquique, Eugene Colon and Francis Roberts, that our little bastard of a trainee Felix was the Surreal Killer and that one of you killed him after we set him up to try to kill you. I told the young CIA guys, Pedro and Romero, that Felix was a bad egg who had gone rogue and that the agency had killed him before he could murder anyone else. Basically, all five got told good riddance to bad rubbish.
"I called my handler at the CIA station in Santiago, briefed him on everything that took place up here, and told him that I quit effective today and planned to move my family and myself back to the USA as soon as we could work out the logistics. I recommended Francis as my replacement if they needed a senior guy, or Romero for the job if it was time for the new generation to take over.
"My dream is to get back to the U.S. with my family as soon as we can, and to have a life there. I don't think any of us could handle a Wisconsin winter after all these years in Chile, and maybe not the Wisconsin summers either. I've been getting paid two salaries for all of my adult life, saving and investing one of them, so we're pretty well off financially. If we were to move to Southern California, would you guys be OK with being our only friends there, at least initially?"
"Cards on the table time for the rest of us," answered Suzanne. "I think Roger would welcome you as a friend, Vincent, and I know I would. Right now I'm trying to figure out why I'm not bothered by everyone's totally casual attitude towards Roger killing Felix, including mine. I feel like I should be a lot more bothered than I am. I know Roger killed a killer, and I know it's a convenient solution for everybody including the CIA, but shouldn't human life be sacred? Why is it OK for us to kill bad guys when it's convenient?"
Eduardo jumped back in to the conversation. "As long as he was alive Felix was a threat to all of us, but especially to you and your unborn baby, Suzanne. And if he decided to threaten the powers-that-be by talking about the CIA activities up here, he could very well have bargained his way to getting out of jail either legally or extra-legally. Throw in that the murders were committed in three different countries that don't get along very well and imagine the arguments about who would have jurisdiction to try him. Finally, we know Felix was the Surreal Killer, but there's no way we could prove it beyond a reasonable doubt in a court of law. There just isn't any physical, forensic, or eyewitness evidence that would stand up in court that connects him with any of the ten murders. And shouldn't the lives of any future victims of the Surreal Killer be at least as sacred as his life?"
"Slow down," exclaimed Suzanne, "I'm not arguing that it was wrong to kill him. I'm asking why it feels right to me. You guys have all killed people, more or less legally, in your work so I can understand why your consciences may have some scar tissue on them to make the moral issues less important. I'm just trying to think out loud about why I seem to be developing some of that same kind of scar tissue. You can blame it on my hormones if it makes you macho tough guys any more sympathetic, but I really feel like I need an answer to my question."
I decided to get into the conversation. "Cops and spies see the worst of people as a normal part of what they do. It hardens them. They also see a criminal justice system that has little or nothing to do with justice and a whole lot to do with corruption, money, and power. It makes them cynical as well as hard. That's where our scar tissue comes from. You may be getting some of that scar tissue by association. In less than two years you've been involved in three very messy murder cases, in one of which the victim was your father. You've been part of extra-legal solutions in two of them. These experiences had to have changed you, which may not be a bad thing. What we've accomplished here has made this part of the world a slightly better place, and I for one am not at all ashamed of my part in it. You shouldn't be either."
"I need to think about all of this," replied Suzanne. "Intellectually I get it and I agree with everything you and Eduardo have said. Emotionally I'm still not sure. Maybe I've just lived in Beverly Hills too long and lost my political perspective. And on that note I suggest we end this part of the discussion and move on. Vincent, I think I can speak for Roger and say that we'd enjoy continuing our relationship with you if you moved to Southern California. Is there anything else we need to talk about before we get to San Pedro de Atacama?"
"Yes there is," I said. "Vincent, did you know that Felix was the Surreal Killer before you met us? I had a sense all along that you were playing us. Did you just want us to clean up your mess for you when you offered us all of that help so altruistically?"
"No, I didn't know it was Felix. I had a high level of suspicion that it was one of the three younger guys we had trained but I didn't have any idea which one it was and I didn't have a clue how to figure out which of our young trainees was the rotten apple. Francis and I discussed what to do about it several times. We were seriously considering killing all three of them before you came along and seemed to be the answer to our problem. And, as it turned out, you were. Thank you very much for cleaning up our mess for us, as you so inelegantly put it."
The plane began to descend for our landing at San Pedro de Atacama. We were about to visit the major tourist attraction in Northern Chile and spend the day like normal tourists before we headed home. I had a pretty good idea that we all needed to unwind, especially Suzanne, before we'd be ready to get back to our normal routines, and this promised to be a good beginning for the process of finally saying good-bye to the Surreal Killer.
We landed on a packed dirt and sand strip at an elevation of about 2,500 meters just outside of the town of San Pedro de Atacama. Vincent directed us to a jeep waiting for us beside the makeshift runway. We drove half a mile to the small village built around one of the many oases that dotted the Atacama Desert and supplied the water that was essential to sustain life in this dry, harsh ter
rain. San Pedro had become the center for tourism in Northern Chile. This handful of dirt and adobe streets and buildings seemed too sleepy and too small to absorb the hordes of tourists passing through. But the tourists were jammed in long enough to eat, drink, and sleep in this strategically located village that is the jumping off point for some of the most spectacular scenery in Chile. Our jeep drove through the village, passing a few modern hotels tucked away among the adobe huts, a pretty tree-shaded plaza in the center of town, and the ever-present South American church.
“Take a quick look as we pass through. You’re seeing one of the major tourist attractions in Chile here,” announced Vincent. “Ignore the tourist agencies, guesthouses, and Internet cafes, and just imagine what it must have been like to live here before this area was opened up to large-scale tourism by airplanes and airports.”
“What makes this particular village so special?” Suzanne asked.
“Proximity to some magnificent places to visit. We’re on our way to two of them now. Today we’re going to visit the largest salt flat in Chile, The Salar de Atacama, and The Valley of the Moon to eat our lunch. If you look up at the mountains to the east you’ll see a bunch of volcanoes, some of them dormant and some still active. The tallest one, Licancabur, is about 6,000 meters (almost 20,000 feet) at the summit.”
