them.”
“Well, you are welcome in my battalion any day.”
The General held his hands up in ostentatious applause. The dignitaries behind him-even the President-rose and clapped their hands. The entire audience rose to its feet and clapped loud and long. Before the applause could subside, the band struck up the theme from
The General smiled brilliantly. Seeing this, the prisoner remembered Tito’s warning and he smiled brilliantly too. Then, in what looked like a completely spontaneous bit of theatre, the General hugged him. He would not have done so yesterday, Victor thought, when Perez was filthy from Submarine.
The President gave a short speech after that, thanking the Americans for their help and vowing to continue his struggle for reform.
When they were at the Cherokee again, Tito took the deed from the one-armed prisoner. “You’ll get it back,” he said. “It has to be formally notarized.”
Ignacio Perez made to get back into the Cherokee.
“Where you going, you idiot?”
The prisoner looked at him blankly.
“Don’t you understand anything? You’re free to go.”
“Free?”
“Yes, free. Absolutely and completely free. You are a landowner now. We will have the deed notarized and bring it to you tomorrow.” He reached out and pumped the prisoner’s hand energetically. “So long, Ignacio. No hard feelings, I hope. It’s just war, you know, and war …. war does funny things.”
TWELVE
“Thank you, my children,” Captain Pena said when they were back at the little school. “You were very well behaved, and I’m giving you the afternoon off.”
The men made childish noises of approval, slapping each other and mussing each other’s hair, although none of them touched Victor.
“That’s the good news,” the Captain continued. “The bad news is, you have to work tonight.” The Captain waited for the exaggerated groans to subside. “Tonight we have another ceremony to attend. A very different ceremony. Tonight we will hand over to Senors Bartel and Perez their deeds of property. Fully notarized. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”
The sun was still strong outside, so Victor took a book and went to sit at the edge of the pasture under a tree. He read a few paragraphs, but it was such a pretty day, he found himself looking up at the white columns of cloud, the deep blue of the sky above the hills. From a nearby hillock, three heifers gazed at him with melancholy eyes.
So far, it had been a better day than most. True, the land ceremony was something of a sham-all right, it was a complete fake-but at least two prisoners had gone free. And now the Sanchez woman was getting the afternoon off. That was a good thing too. He dozed for a while, and woke when he heard his uncle’s footsteps on the gravel road. Victor jumped to his feet and saluted.
“At ease, soldier,” the Captain said, and lifted his bottle of chocolate milk as if to say, You see? I know how to relax and take a break. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. A wonderful day, sir.”
“If only it were peacetime, I would take the family for a picnic somewhere. The twins love a picnic. They get so excited.”
“I can imagine. They are beautiful girls.”
Captain Pena gestured with his milk bottle toward Victor’s book. “Reading again, I see.”
“Yes, sir. It was free time. I never thought-”
“You’re right. I did not forbid you from reading on your own time. Still, you disappoint me, Victor.”
“I’m sorry, Captain.”
“Look, things are very cozy with the Americans right now. You remember Mr. Wheat? Mr. Wheat and I get along very well. We understand each other’s needs. There’s a chance I may be able to get you into a training course with the Americans.”
“In Panama?” Victor’s heart began to pound. If he could get to Panama, he might be able to escape altogether. He could escape to the North.
“No, not Panama. The Americans are offering training at Fort Benning. In the United States.”
“I heard it was only the Atlacatl battalion going there.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. I am trying to arrange things. Now, do me a favour.”
“Yes, sir?”
Captain Pena pulled a packet of matches from his pocket and pressed them into Victor’s palm. “Burn that fucking book.”
That sad little bonfire spoiled the rest of Victor’s afternoon. He lay on his bunk until suppertime, the blackened, curling pages vivid in his mind.
Even as he sat in the driver’s seat of the Cherokee, he could still see the title turning brown and then flaring up. He started the truck and waited for the rest of the squad to pile in.
Tito was beside him, clutching the two deeds of property. He had assembled the squad after supper and told them all to change into street clothes but to bring their automatic weapons and side arms. Lopez slid into the back seat, and a moment later Yunques.
“Let’s go,” Tito said. “I want to get this over with.”
“The left headlight isn’t working,” Victor said.
“Fix it later. Let’s go.”
The roads were pitch-dark. Driving with one headlight made Victor nervous. He kept veering to the right, where the one good light wafted over the trees.
In the confined cabin of the truck, the smell of rum was almost overpowering. Tito had spent his free time drinking in town, and now he was in a bad mood at having to cut his festivities short. When Yunques and Lopez started horsing around in the back, he screamed at them to shut up.
They drove to town in a heavy silence. They passed the Presidential Palace, where stray strands of bunting blew from the iron fence.
For the next fifteen minutes the only words uttered in the Cherokee were Tito’s barked commands of
“Easy, Pena. You’ll rip the tailpipe off this thing.”
“The road is very bad.”
“Easy!”
A mile up the road, they came to a row of shacks, corrugated tin roofs over crumbling adobe walls. The night was as beautiful as the day had been, and men were gathered in groups of three or four around kerosene lanterns in front of the shacks. They stood up at the sound of the approaching truck, their eyes flashing white in the headlights.
“Stop here. As soon as we get out, Pena, you turn this thing around to face the gate. Lopez and Yunques, you cover me. I will deal with these dogs. I want to make this quick.”
“You just want to take out the two?”
“We have orders only for the two. Two only, and to pick up the boy.”
“What boy is that?” Victor asked. Tito hadn’t mentioned any boy in the briefing after supper, but he knew he was often not told things.
“That one there will do.” He pointed to a skinny boy in a long white shirt. He had long hair and a pretty mouth that gave him a feminine look. They got out of the Jeep and Victor turned it around.
