and throw it in the car’s trunk along with the chair.
We repeat the same sequence at the next man’s apartment with one major difference. There is a girl sleeping with him. I knock both out; tie them up in chairs. I perform my task on the man; when he succumbs, I go to the girl, who’s heard the muffled screams for almost an hour, I whisper in her ear that, if she says anything about what happened here, I would do the same thing to her and all her family. I place a kitchen knife in her hand just as we leave.
Throwing the body and chair into the back seat, we drive to a pig farm I’d asked Esteban to locate; both bodies go into a pigpen with about a dozen large sows. There won’t be much left of them by daylight. Esteban drives us out into a countryside that seems to be a dumping grounds for abandoned cars. We pour gasoline into the seats and trunk; over the chairs and tarps. We both strip naked and throw our clothes in the car. After lighting the gas, we wash off with some water and dress in clothes that Esteban brought along. We get into Esteban’s car to head back to my car. When I get to my apartment, I throw the clothes I have on into the trash chute. I’m all packed for my flight out of the country and in bed before dawn.
When I get settled back in the States, I tell my boss that I’m retiring. I have plenty of money saved, along with a lucrative pension and investments. My ex-wife still nags me; daughter still shuns me; I don’t care nor even notice. My demons are much worse now; guilt, regret, loss; they attack me every night in the twilight between waking and sleeping. I dwell on the fact that, if I’d have left earlier, Maria might still be alive. Did my desire to get back in the Game override my desire to protect Maria? Logic and rational explanations carry little weight in these internal arguments. All the self-justifications in the world do nothing to alleviate the pain or the guilt. Alcohol helps. But at least now I have a project; a goal.
It takes about five months of calling in favors, making arrangements, collecting intel, and getting financing. I find out that the CIA is not too happy with General Gomez; his tactics are getting negative international attention. Something the US doesn’t want, so I manage to get some backing to the tune of $100K from “friends” who want to see him go. Of course, I don’t mention that my plans may extend beyond just the General though I’m not sure of my course after completing the two main tasks. My team only consists of one close friend, a very experienced and skilled man in clandestine work. We’re ready eight months after my return. Besides my friend, I have another man in-country already, plus I made very discrete arrangements to meet with opposition leaders. Through them, arrangements were made to get us into the country without having to go through government checkpoints. As we board the ship to carry us south, one of my team asks me what I hope to eventually get out of all this.
“I have my eye on a Naval Academy ring with the initials J.T.B on it.”
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