I say, “Well George, you know all about me.”
George says, “I am going to show you a film. Atrocities were committed against innocent peasants. The men responsible for these murders are in Guatemala.”
Chapter 13
Today is Friday, the third of September. George, John, Luke and I are going on a road trip. George and I travel in one Jeep while Luke and John follow us in another Jeep. An AK47 with two fully loaded magazines are in each Jeep. John, Luke and I have sniper rifles with six jacketed hollow point rounds per weapon. These bullets have some lead taken out of the middle. The machine gun rounds are full metal jacket, solid lead filling the metal cartridge. George carries his Colt 45. The rifles are covered with large heavy bags.
We cross the Motagua River north of the town of Zacapa. We go deeper into the jungle and stop the Jeeps. We walk for a while. Two hundred meters below, is a clear area with a cabin. John and Luke take position fifty meters east from the cabin. George and I stay put. We wait for half an hour. It is midafternoon. Three men exit the cabin and light cigarettes. Three shots are fired simultaneously. John and Luke take out the man in the middle and the guy on his left side. I knock the target down on the right side. We each need only one shot.
We return to the Jeeps, and drive down to the dead targets. Three heads are blown up. We load the bodies into body bags. Two bags go into John’s Jeep and one body bag into George’s Jeep. George cleans some of the blood and flesh from the dirt before driving off. Two kilometers from the cabin, we unload the bodies from the bags and dump them into a sinkhole. We begin to drive back toward to the ranch.
When we get to the main road, I ask George, “What do you do with the empty body bags? Do you use them again?”
The Bear says, “No, I’ll burn them in the incinerator at the ranch. Jaime, did you think I would shoot you with my forty-five automatic, if you did not shoot the target?”
“Yes,” I answer.
George says, “I would not have shot you. I would have sent you home.”
“I wasn’t taking any chances,” I respond. “I shot the target because you showed me pictures of massacred, peasant farmers. You told me these men were responsible for killing innocent people. I could rationalize killing all three targets in my mind, so I pulled the trigger. That’s it.”
Chapter 14
Mexico City
It is the morning of the eighth of September. I am at the Stella Maris Hotel in Mexico City. The most beautiful tall, blond, blue-eyed girl has just left me. Luke Two brought her to my hotel room last night.
He said, “She is a gift from George.” She was the best gift I ever had.
Yesterday, the seventh of September, Luke and I flew from Guatemala City to Mexico City. I used the James Andrews passport. I gave the passport to Luke when we got to the hotel. Luke gave me an envelope with eight thousand dollars in it and my real passport. Luke bought me dinner. Then he brought me the girl. This morning, the eighth of September, I fly to Kennedy Airport on an Eastern Airlines flight, using my own passport.
Luke says to me, “Johnny Walker will call you at your home in New York, on September fifteenth.”
Chapter 15
Manhattan, New York City
It is the morning of the fifteenth of September. I meet Johnny in front of City Drugs on East Sixteenth Street between Fifth Avenue and Union Square Park in Manhattan. We walk a few blocks up Fifth Avenue and have breakfast in a local diner. He gives me one thousand dollars traveling money, a first class Air France plane ticket and an Alitalia plane ticket. The tickets are one way. The Air France flight is to Paris. I shall go through immigration and customs in Paris and then board a regular Alitalia flight to Rome. The reservation is in my real name and I shall use my own passport. I leave the evening of the seventeenth of September and arrive in Europe the following morning. I shall be flying alone.
The story I told my grandmother is that I have a teaching job at a private American school in Rome. I shall be home for Christmas.
Chapter 16
Rome, Italy
It is the evening of the eighteenth of September. I am at the Hotel Quattro Fontani in Rome. Luke is in the room next to mine. He was at the hotel when I arrived. The first class Air France flight was great. The food was delicious: a prime beef with flaky crust, champagne that flowed freely, a powerful cognac, and terrific stewardesses. The first class Air France flight was the second best gift I ever had. The Alitalia flight was a normal, everyday, commuter flight.
In Luke’s room we go over the itinerary. He gives me the James Andrews, British passport. The passport has no entry or exit for Guatemala or Mexico. It is new again. James Andrews flew from Toronto, Canada to London, England and then to Rome. There is a visa for Angola. There is an Air Afrique plane ticket from DaVinci Airport in Rome that eventually ends up in Luanda, Angola, passing through Dakar and Abidjan. It looks like an endless flying day. I am not looking forward to this long, circuitous flight. Luke is going with me, so that makes it better. Luke tells me to leave my real passport with the person at the front desk of this hotel.
Chapter 17
Africa
The railroad travels from Luanda to Ndalatando. This train chugs up some very steep hills. It is crowded and smelly. Luke is with me. The black Africans are speaking Portuguese. Africa is different from Mexico and Guatemala. The odor is more pungent. The hills are higher in Angola then in Guatemala and the breeze is hotter. The land runs up quickly from the coast. Some Africans are speaking another language. I would not know Bantu from Kimbundu. I am not sure if the Mbundo tribe, that lives east of Luanda, speaks Kimbundu, or the Kimbundu tribe speaks Mbundo. I am a little confused. It begins to rain.
I’ve been on this train before. In Guatemala I had a dream that I was on a train with Luke. George and Johnny were on the train too. I could see them in another car. White people, brown people, black people and soldiers spoke assorted languages on the train. The languages were Portuguese, Spanish, English, and strange dialects. I woke up after hearing a noise and swooshed back into my body through the top of my head. That ended the astral projection.
The plantation of Antonio Cunha is immense. It is larger than one thousand hectares or two thousand four hundred seventy acres. It is a few kilometers north of Ndaltando. The place has electricity and a generating plant. The main house has a telephone and is in the center of the plantation. Single level motel type workers housing, are one hundred meters east and west from the center home. The plantation owner also communicates by short wave radio. Barns, silos and heavy tractors can be seen. The fields of rolling hills grow coffee, corn and beans. A few head of cattle, milking cows, chickens, sheep, goats, pigs, and horses populate the plantation. The place is guarded by twenty-five white, Portuguese speaking soldiers. The soldiers constantly patrol the place in Jeeps. They keep in contact by radio. From the top of the barns you can see for many kilometers in each direction.
Toward the distant north is dense wooded jungle and to the south is the district capital city of Ndaltando. Many African workers live on the plantation of Antonio Cunha.
Chapter 18
December 2, 1971
It is the second of December. I have lived on the plantation for two and one half months.
I have an actual teaching job. Senor Cunha and his wife have two children at the plantation. They have an eleven year old boy Tony and a ten year old girl Lucy. The children speak excellent English. Five hours per day, five days each week I teach them basic math, writing and reading English. I tell them about life in the United States. Also, I am the children’s personal bodyguard.
These kids are very smart and learn quickly. The owner’s other children are in a University in the United States. This morning Senora Cunha and the two children, Tony and Lucy got onboard a single engine plane and flew to Luanda from a small airport at the west edge of Ndaltando. They are going to visit the
Senora’s parents’ home in Portugal.
Trouble is brewing and will hit the plantation shortly. I do not understand exactly what is happening. There are three alphabet soup guerilla groups: the FNLA, the MPLA and the UNITA. I assume some of these groups are communist. I know that the Portuguese colonial landowner days are numbered. The Bear wants me to gather my belongings and leave on the train to Luanda tomorrow. He says I did a fine job with the children. Senor and Senora Cunha were very pleased with me. My job is done.
Every day over the past two and one have months I practiced shooting the machine gun, sniper rifle and revolver. When I was teaching the children I kept the Smith and Wesson revolver in a knapsack. In the early evening, twice per week, I would be stationed in one of the barns with The Bear, Luke or John. We would pull a four hours shift armed with AK47s. I was never alone on the plantation. I had a private room between Luke’s room and John’s room. George had private quarters within the main house.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Three thundering bolts rock and shock the entire plantation. The power generating plant blows up and is on fire. Artillery shells are hitting the compound. The barns and silos are burning. The Portuguese soldiers return fire. The artillery barrage suddenly stops. Swarms of attacking soldiers are moving down the hills. I see all of this from the back window of my room. I quickly get dressed. Luke, John and The Bear are at my door. They tell me to take the machine gun and the magazines of ammo. I grab the AK47 and my knapsack. It is four thirty in the morning, the third of December.
We get into position and start shooting. I have the machine gun on semi-automatic and fire one shot at a time. I see every target drop. I switch magazines and continue to shoot. Now I realize that there are only four shots left in this magazine. Time ceases as a hundred enemy soldiers slowly and steadily get closer.
George says, “These are well trained troops not ragtag guerillas. These soldiers are probably Cuban.”
I watch George switch to his last magazine. Luke and John are running toward the main house. George and I follow ten meters behind. A bomb blasts. Luke and John are hit. Their body parts are all over the ground. I stop for an instant and The Bear taps me on the shoulder to keep me moving. All I can think is that it’s back to The Bardo for Johnny Walker and Luke Two.
George and I enter the large plantation house. We make our escape through a tunnel that runs from the wine cellar in the main house to a clearing near a small river, a tributary of the Cuanza River. The tunnel runs one and one half kilometers in length or ninety-three percent of one mile. The owner Antonio Cunha had the tunnel built in case of an emergency like this. George knew about the tunnel. I had no idea it existed. When we exit the tunnel we can see the plantation burning in the background.
I have the James Andrew passport and the gun in the knapsack. George told me to keep the passport with me at all times.
George says, “Take out your passport and hand me the revolver and knapsack.”
I give him the gun and knapsack. He flings them into the river. We hold onto the machine guns. We ditch all weapons when we reach the airfield on the outskirts of Ndalatando. This walk takes over one hour.
A single engine plane is waiting with a pilot and Senor Antonio Cunha. George leads me to the plane. When we get into the aircraft Senor Cunha passes around a bottle of port wine. I take a couple of long slugs from the bottle. After the drink, I close my eyes and do not look out the window. I do not remember what was said during the flight to Luanda.
Chapter 19
Rome, Italy December 9, 1971
I am back at the Quattro Fontani Hotel in Rome. It is the ninth of December, 1971. I have been here two days. I watched the movie, Some like It Hot, dubbed in Italian. The guy who did the Tony Curtis voice was very good. I also saw a funny Italian movie, Venga a Prendere Un Café Da Noi, with Ugo Tognazzi.
George has taken me out for a couple of decent meals at a trattoria near the Treve Fountain. The Bear will shortly be getting on a plane to Paris. He asks me if I want to go with him.
The Bear says, “You are a good soldier. You performed well under fire. Are you interested in working with me again, Jaime?"
I answer. “No, I am burnt out. I want to go home. I like New York City at Christmas time. I don’t want to be blown apart like Johnny and Luke.”
George hands me a Pan American first class ticket in my own name. The ticket is from Rome to Kennedy Airport. He gives me twenty thousand dollars and my real passport back. I am surprised about the increase in pay.
George says, “Senor Cunha wanted you to have the extra ten thousand dollars.”
I fly from Rome to New York City on December 10, 1971. The Air France first class flight was much better than the Pan American flight.
Chapter 20
Back to Present July, 1980
My mind returns to the present. The year is nineteen hundred eighty. The time is 2:30 AM and the date is the fifth of July. I am almost finished writing this story. I was a willing participant in the Guatemalan and African affairs that affected me the rest of my life. I was never able to sleep well after I shot those guys in my uncle’s bar in 1966. But after Guatemala and Africa I was not able to sleep more than three hours per night. Two years ago I had a dream about Africa. I woke up in a cold sweat. I was terrified. I have dreams of being in battles and getting killed. Sometimes bullets go into me. Sometimes knifes stick into me. Sometimes I get blown up. Then after I die, I get up and the battle starts again. It never ends.
I used the money to go to medical school in Guadalajara, Mexico. It was a struggle for me to concentrate on my medical studies and I had to leave. Presently, I can only read and study in small bits and pieces and I have been unable to continue my education in some other field of endeavor. I can count the friends I have on one hand. I cannot hold a job for more than a few months. I have to take Valium before boarding an airplane. Other than that I’m fine.
I put down my pen and close my notebook. I turn the radio on low to listen to an American music pop station. Steely Dan sings, “You go back Jack do it again.”
Today after many years, I saw The Funny Bear. The phone is ringing. I pick up the telephone.
It is The Bear, he says, “Que hubo, Jaime!”
BOOK III: GERM SPREADERS ON A TRAIN
Chapter 21
New York City, February, 1998
It is February 1, 1998. The advertisement in the help wanted section of the New York Sunday newspaper states: “Wanted Mature Adult for General Bookkeeping and Accounting; MS Word and Excel required; Knowledge of Statistics is a plus. Fax Resume to L&J Incorporated; telephone 212 etc.”
I fax my resume. I am in dire need of a job. I had worked for a small family billing business in Newark, New Jersey. The old couple that employed me sold the business, retired and moved to Florida. For three years I did billing, accounting, general bookkeeping, and taxes for the company. It had been a pleasant, stress free job. The past two months I missed going to work and even missed commuting on the train.
Today I have the job interview. It is Tuesday the tenth of February. I jump on the number six local subway train at Lexington Avenue and Seventy-Seventh Street. I get off at the Brooklyn Bridge station and walk around City Hall. I continue to walk down Chambers Street to Broadway. Then I go up Broadway passing by Federal Plaza. As I continue walking, I realize that I should have gotten off the subway at Canal Street. Finally I find the building and go inside. A security guard points me toward the elevator. On the seventh floor at exactly 9:45 AM, I knock on the door of L&J Incorporated.
Two large young men open the door and greet me. The first young fellow has light brown skin and the second young man has fair skin. They say in unison, “Good Morning.”
The brown man says, “My name is Danny Johnson.”
“My name is Louis Rodriguez,” says his partner. “Your resume shows that you live on the Upper East Sid
e, near York Avenue?”
“Yes,” I answer.
Danny says, “You’re in good shape for,” he stopped.
I complete his sentence, “an old guy.”
“How old are you?” asks Louis.
“Forty nine,” I answer
“Well,” says Danny, “you are exactly what we are looking for. Why did you leave your last job?”
“The owners sold the company and retired. Here is the name, address and phone number of my prior employers.” I hand Danny the references.
Louis questions, “You have an advanced degree in statistics. How come you work as an accountant?”
“No one would hire me as a statistician. So I switched to accounting and was able to get a job as a bookkeeper.”
Then I ask, “What does the L and J stand for in L&J Incorporated?”
“For the gospels, Luke and John in the Bible,” says Danny.
I think, “Jeez.”
Danny and Louis hire me immediately. At 10:15 AM, Tuesday the tenth of February, 1998, I go to work for L&J Incorporated.
Chapter 22
January, 2001
It is now January, 2001. I have been working with L&J Inc. for three years. This is what I know.
Although Louis and Danny were brought up in Manhattan they didn’t know one another. They met at graduate school in Massachusetts. They became friends and shared an apartment in Cambridge a few blocks from the Charles River and the MIT dome. Upon graduation in May, 1996, they opened up L&J Incorporated. The money for the business came from the sale of a software program they designed and patented. L&J Incorporated is a Biotechnology Consulting Firm.