Jeannie said, “Please wait; I have one more gift for you.” She extended her arm, and the swirling mist of a portal opening began to appear.
Chapter Thirty-Five
We stepped into the mist at the Citadel and stepped out on the path in front of the hut of the elder brothers, the Watchers, a four days’ hike from where we had first breached the “cloak.” They were the ones we had interviewed at Tamara’s village about a half-mile away. Both men were standing there, smiling as if gleefully awaiting our arrival. Jeannie stepped through, and they immediately continued smiling and reverently bowing in her direction, obviously delighted to see her again. She bowed slightly to them and said, “They are very excited; they have not ever seen me outside the Citadel.”
We recognized the brother Dimitri’s marksmanship had saved on the road at the rockpile. The other one was still displaying the wounds from having been severely beaten by the mercs. Jeannie was communicating with them, and they were nodding gleefully. A few minutes later, she came over to us and said, “They asked me to thank you for saving them and protecting the Citadel.”
I reached out and shook their hands and told her to tell them they were welcome. We were glad we could help in a critical moment.
A few seconds later, Jeannie said, “They have also told me that one of the men who attacked you on your way to the Citadel was wounded in the altercation and was being taken care of in Tamara’s village. They said he has been asking to speak with you if that was ever possible.”
“That sounds interesting,” I said, “the village is only a short distance away. Guess we better find out what he has to say.”
Jeannie said, “Then I will take my leave.” She looked at us, raised her right hand, palm facing us, and said, “safe travels, my friends, till we next meet,” and vanished. Wow, she didn’t even need a portal… magic indeed, I thought and wondered if our civilization would ever become so advanced.
And that was it; our encounter with an alien being from a star system thousands of light-years away had come to an end on a remote mountain path in the Andes mountains of Ecuador. We all seemed kind of stunned as we stood there. Finally, Doc said, “Well, I guess it’s back to the real world; this is all starting to feel like a dream.”
“I guess so,” I replied. What a strange feeling as we started walking toward the village—exhilaration mixed with sadness, a peculiar combination. The brothers had gone ahead of us to the village, and our arrival was met with much excitement. Tamara greeted us and was pleased that we had arrived safely. The brothers were speaking excitedly to him, and I asked Doc what they were saying.
“They are telling him they met us on the trail coming in, and they had told us about the man who wanted to speak with us.”
“Nothing about Jeannie, then.”
“Not a word,” Doc said.
“Then we leave it at that,” I told him, and he nodded.
We dropped our packs at the fire pit in the middle of the village and sat down on the benches around it. Some of the women came out with water and fruit for us. Tamara had disappeared and returned with a man in tow whose arm was in a sling. He roughly shoved him in front of us and said something to Doc.
“He says this is the man who wanted to talk with us, and he speaks English.”
I looked at him and said, “What’s your name?”
“Miguel, Senor Burnett, my name is Miguel.”
“So, you know who I am?” I said.
“Yes, Senor Burnett, Senor Mendez has shown us pictures of all of you,” he said.
“Then you must be part of the Brotherhood, the ones trying to kill us.”
“Please, Senor, I am so sorry. It is not something that many of us wanted. Mendez was forcing us to do this.”
“Forcing you, how and why?” I asked.
“Senor Mendez is a very bad man; he smuggles cocaine for the cartels to the coast, where it is loaded onto ships. He forces many of us to help, threatening our families with death if we do not obey. Many of the men in the Brotherhood take no pleasure in its activities, but they must protect their families and children. He ordered us to follow you and kill all of you. Senor Mendez has tortured and killed those who disobeyed his orders. We would leave if we could, but we are afraid for ourselves and our families.”
The others had gathered around and were listening to Miguel’s story.
Dimitri asked, “How does he smuggle the cocaine?”
“Once every two months, he loads barrels of his wine onto two trucks, and they are driven to the coast. The barrels are special and have a plastic insert that is filled with cocaine. The barrels are half wine and half cocaine. One of the trucks only carries wine; the other has the cocaine. No one bothers the truck with the drugs. They know which one it is and never check it, only the one carrying the wine. He has paid off many men, and they leave the truck with only the red lettering from the Mendez Vineyard alone.”
“So, that’s how they know the drug truck, the color of the logo on it?”
“Si, Senor, the wine truck has red and white lettering.”
Not a bad plan, I thought. The wine truck could go first and let the other know if there were checkpoints or problems on the road, informed by the police on Mendez’s payroll. It could be stopped, searched, and cleared. The other truck could reroute, or since the first Mendez truck was cleared, this one could be waived through by his cops. The logic being we checked the first one, and it was fine, let’s not waste our time on another one.
“How many barrels of wine does
