For the first chapters of Book One . . . Amador Green
For Chapters 14 and following . . .
http://ag2_14_16.blogspot.com/
Installment #13
--Hell on Earth in Heaven
"This prison they have her in is located at an elevation of 5,000 meters."
Marty put down his glass. "How much is that in feet?"
Sydney shrugged. "Fifteen thousand, more or less."
Alex about to take a bite from his taco, pulled it back from his mouth. He stared at Sydney and then looked at Marty. "Wait a minute. Uh. . . like, let's see . . . how high is Donner Pass?"
Marty shrugged, "I dunno; nine, maybe ten thousand." He folded his last taco in half and pushed the whole thing in his mouth as he went on talking.
Sydney shook his head. "What's he saying?"
After a big gulp of his *cafe con leche* and a burp, after wiping his mustache on his cuff, he burped again. "I said that so far's I know, the highest peak in the Sierras is that Mt Whitney up there above Lone Pine, where we took that eco-tour hike that time, Toker?"
Alex thought awhile. "Oh . . . yeah. Bummer. How could I forget. That was up around fourteen thousand feet.
"Better 'n that. It was fourteen and a half."
"Man, you could hardly breathe up there, colder 'n a witch's . . . remember that tour guide chick?"
"Do I!"
Alex looked at Sydney. "She made us poop in plastic bags and pack it out with us."
Marty nodded. "And if you pooped on the way up, you had to pack it all the rest of the way up . . "
"And then all the way back down again."
Sydney observed them momentarily. "How do you Americans say . . . ahhh . . . Does the bear go shit in the woods?"
After an exchange of glances with Marty, Alex said, "Is this guy trying to tell us something?"
Marty snorted out a short laugh.
Alex tilted his head and looked at Sydney through one eye. "It's out of respect to the eco-system."
"But what about the bear shit?
Alex gave him one quick half a chortle.
"It's no laughing matter," observed Marty.
Sydney shrugged. He sat forward. "All right. Listen to me: Not only is this Gringa revolutionary sister of yours incarcerated at 15,000 feet, but she is surrounded by a mine field."
His eyes widening, Alex turned them to Marty. "Holy balls of holly!"
"Jimeny Christmas!" Marty sat forward. "What else?"
"There is no glass in the windows in this prison, there is no heating; they have only blankets to keep them warm, that is if they have relatives to bring them. Their extremities swell up, and in short, it is strictly not natural for human beings to live at such an elevation."
"It's a Death Camp." Marty stared at him.
"You could certainly so suggest."
"Are you sure there are no windows?" Alex looked at him suspiciously.
"With my own eyes, I have seen the Yanamayo prison at 4,000 meters . . . "
Alex's eyes rolled. "What's that?"
"About 12,000 feet; it's a facility built on the shore of Lake Titicaca; up there they built it on the site of the old Inca burial towers; they built more towers, and there is no glass in the windows. They say it is the same at Chacapalca in the Cordillera above Lima where she is now, but then that may be a moot point because there, no towers are built but chambers which are located eight meters below the ground . . . about 25 feet. She shares her grave with three other living corpses; they let them out wearing black hoods, once a day into the courtyard, and in this way, they are not permitted to see the outside world that is no longer a part of their lives."
Alex and Marty had stopped all movement, and when Sydney had ceased talking there was only the sounds of the traffic passing at the curb, the muted conversation of an elderly couple who had taken a table on the other side of the aisle leading to the bakery door. Sydney's hand was in the air. The waiter who had been serving the old couple came to the table. "Mas cafe, por favor."
Sydney returned his gaze to the boys. "The soldiers who attend the Chacapalca prison are rotated on a bi-weekly basis because their health will not stand it otherwise. No soldier ever volunteers for that service. They patrol the perimeter of the prison day and night." He sat back a little and crossed a leg turning one over the white trousered cotton fabric of the other. "So, that is what you are up against my fine Gringo amigos." His smile was made of purest irony.
Alex looked at the man. "Then she'll die in there."
The boys stared at him. "Yes! Of course. Certainly she will die there, if not from exposure and lack of food, then altitude sickness, or she'll be shot, if not bludgeoned to death in one of the many strikes and outbreaks that occur."
Alex and Marty studied each the expression of the other. They heard Sydney speak: "You have told me that where there is a will, there is a way." They turned back to regard him. He smiled. "You can come up with a plan?"
After another quick glance shared between them, Alex said, "We'd have to smoke on it."
"Well good! Now I'll tell you of the invitation that has been extended to you through me from the Kogi farmers."
"Huh?" Alex shot a look at Marty.
"They were highly grateful for your efforts in their regard, and they have told me to tell you that the hospitality of their homes high in the cloud forest are open to you any time that you may like to come and stay with them."
"Wow," said Marty.
"When?"
"Any time. I said. We could all go with them just as soon as their business here in Leticia is complete."
"Jeez." Alex moved aside for the waiter who replaced his empty glass with a fresh full one.
"For me," said Sydney, "it is an excellent opportunity to study their methods of cultivation, to discover whether they plant from seed or from cuttings, what species they are growing, if the plants are indigenous to that region or otherwise." He looked up at the waiter. "Gracias."
Watching the waiter leave, Alex said, "It would give us time to think this whole thing through, now I'll say that about it."
"Yes." Sydney with a growing smile raised his glass. "And working for me, you could make a few pesos for the use of your mission."
Marty looked a little reticent. "Well, we'd be back in a canoe, paddling up a river, all the way up to the top?"
"Oh! No." Sydney shook his head. "They come down by canoe, but they go back by mule train, either that or depending on how rich the reward for their crop is, they fly back on one of the cartel's small aircraft."
"Hoo boy." Marty regarded Alex.
"Yeah, I don't know about that." Alex looked at Sydney. "What do they do with their canoes?"
"They sell them, and when it's time to make the trip again, they build another; at this, they are quite expert; in two days or less, working together they will have a fresh new canoe for the next voyage." Sydney regarded them further, then nodding to his own thought he finally said, "I'll charter a plane to Pasto. I have a botanist friend from the University in Bogota who will drive us over the Cordillera to Mocoa, and down into the cloud forest region of the Kogis."
"Wow," said Alex.
"He is a fine fellow, Dr. Guzman. I am sure you will find him interesting.
Marty, deep in thought with a hand buried in his beard suddenly looked up. "Can Violetta and Antulio come with us?"
"Under no circumstances." Sydney waved an extended finger. "Neither the Kogi farmers nor I can afford to be found in the company of people with prices on their heads and who are one foot in hell at fifteen thousand feet."
"Well then . . . " Marty shrugged. "Maybe I'll just stay here for awhile, and you guys can go ahead, so I . . . "
Alex stared at his friend. "What?"
Marty smiled looking down upon his hands. "I've got a pretty nice little thing with Violetta going here, and . . . "
Alex for long moments stared dumbly at the table. "Oh no. This can't be happening." He looked at Marty. "When . . . how . . .?"
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Chapters 14 and following . . .
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