The Cain File (30 page)

There were eight of them, including Maggie: Comrade Cain, Lita—never far from Cain—the woman in the grannie glasses who had been standing guard at the base of the kapok tree, the older man with the straw hat and machete, and several U’was from northern Columbia, who faced a similar battle in their own homeland with the invasion of the oil companies.

Amidst the rustle of leaves, wafting through the trees at ground level from different directions, figures appeared, rifles slung over their shoulders, machetes hanging from their hands. People of all shapes and sizes: Mestizos, Indians, even a purebred Caucasian with horn-rimmed glasses who spoke with an Argentine accent. Soon, more than thirty people total. They stood silent.

“The meeting will come to order now, comrades.” Lita took her place in front of the semicircle. Comrade Cain waited off to one side, a hand in the pocket of his cargo shorts, matter of fact.

Lita read from the group’s manifesto: a rousing passage about injustice and the rights of the people tending to their land being trampled by the moneyed masters. It was simple and passionate and hard to disagree with. She shook her small fist from time to time. Breathing hard, she was clearly swept away, almost like a woman in the throes of sex. Her face shone. The group cheered every fervent point.

Ovations reverberated through the trees when Lita finished.

“Our comrade and commander!” Lita announced, voice soaring with emotion. She stood aside as Cain approached, stopped in the apex of the semi-circle.

Voices dropped to a muted hush.

Cain spoke, low, unassuming, but in a tone that carried.

“
If you leave me in peace, I leave you in peace; if you strike me, I will strike you.
” He looked around the group. “Simple words that sum up how we have no choice but to strike back at those who would strike us, strike our comrades, strike our land.
Your
land. The land that the Kichwa have guarded since the beginning of time.”

The group was silent again. Eyes were tightly focused on Cain.

“I’m a man of few words. Words are precious, yet at the same time worthless—if not backed up with blood. Words mean nothing without action.”

Murmurs of agreement.

“Today we saw proof that the corrupt government, funded by the Americans and Chinese, is ready to begin building their pipeline through this sacred ground. Despite the petitions that the people have signed and dutifully delivered to the fraudulent politicians. Despite the peaceful protests that end with arrests and disappearances.” He gazed around the semicircle. “Tonight some of us will strike another blow. The rest of you will return to your posts and take reassurance in the knowledge that you played your parts. The next meeting will be in two days. I will be elsewhere, comrades, but I will still be here—with you—in spirit. I could not ask for finer companions in this hour of justice.”

He scanned the rapt faces, nodding silently.

“
La venganza es la justicia,
”
he said quietly.

“
La venganza es la justicia,
”
Lita said, thumping the area just above her heart with the ball of her fist.

The group roared the same.

Vengeance is justice.

Cain requested candidates for the mission. The challenge seemed to be turning down the many volunteers. Maggie eyed her backpack leaning against a tree. Lita had placed it there during the meeting. While Cain, Lita, and several others crouched around a map on the ground, Maggie wandered over to the tree. As the unselected volunteers filtered off, Maggie swept up her backpack, stole off into the bushes with it. She went around a toppled tree, out of sight, undid the top button of her jeans, sat down and fired up her MacBook, quickly plugging in the network card. Although she’d charged it last night in Coca, the machine was already down to 81 percent booting up and getting onto the IKON network.

She turned on the IP masker, logged onto Frenesi, and opened her messages. She continued to be a hit with middle-aged digital stalkers proclaiming they had open marriages. Then she saw it, a message from PerroRabioso. Rabid Dog. Maybe it was John Rae, finally out of prison in Bogotá.

It wasn’t.

In cryptic slang Quechua, Achic informed her that Yalu and Ernesto had been moved to another location. That was a relief. But still no word from John Rae. Achic was hoping to rejoin the operation once Maggie got to Quito.

She checked her email from the Fed. One from Ed.

“Maggs:

Just so you understand, you are treading on some thin ice. Really need to talk to you. Our friendship is in jeopardy, to be perfectly honest. Unless you contact me on my cell phone by end of day. This is no joke.”

She connected the capital letters. JR OUT. And she suddenly felt a whole lot better.

She responded to Ed’s email, using a simple Perl script and SMTP protocol to create a mail header, plugging in a fake “from” address and other properties to resemble a message from a popular U.S. free email domain. That’s where it would look like her email originated.

“Hey Ed –

I’m so,
so
sorry. Something came up, with Seb, if you can believe it. Yeah, you probably can. ☺ I know, I know, I really have to get my personal life under control. I
promise
I will sync up with you tomorrow. I’m going to take care of things. I’ll be at Moshi’s for dinner the way we planned. I’m
so
sorry.

Maggs.”

Ed would know she was headed to Quito and should be there by tomorrow. She started up Iggy.

Magdalena: no time to chat, ami, - i need a trace on a couple of phone numbers – if poss

Enzo99: k, go

Maggie got out Abraham’s phone that she had liberated in Coca, and gave Enzo Cain’s number, as well as Yalu’s.

Enzo99: cn tll u rite now, num 1 blocked

Cain was blocked. Figured.

Enzo99: bt 2
^nd
on nother srvc, cn b snffd

Yalu’s number was traceable with Enzo’s sniffer.

Magdalena: do it, plz

Maggie started as she heard boots marching through the tall grass toward her hidden spot.

Magdalena: gtg

She pulled the USB network card and powered down quickly, slipping her MacBook into her knapsack while it was still grinding. She got up, fastening her jeans, making a show of it, and pretended to just notice Lita streaming toward her, an ugly look across her face.

“What are you doing here?” Lita growled.

“What does it look like?”

Lita stormed around the tree, saw Maggie’s knapsack on the ground, gave her an angry stare.

“You think I’m going to let it out of my sight?” Maggie said. “The authorizations, the transfer, none of that will happen without this laptop.”

“You were not to use it until the time came.”

“And I didn’t. But you left it sitting against a tree. While you were waxing poetic over the People’s Fight. Besides, I needed these.” Maggie held up the packet of Wet Ones. “Some of us are into hygiene. Call me decadent.”

Lita eyed Maggie coldly. She put her hand out. “Give me the backpack.”

The cheeping of cicada bugs filled the air.

Maggie picked up the backpack, held it out. Lita took it, put it down to one side. She turned away, then spun back at Maggie, her arm coiled like a spring. A punch flew like an incoming rocket.

Maggie deflected the punch, but caught the next one and went down with a buzzing jaw. Lita piled on top of her, kicking and punching like a demon. Maggie was no match for a battle-hardened guerilla. It was all she could do to cover her face from taking too much damage.

“If you’re planning something against him!” Lita bellowed, punching systematically. “Well, you’ll have to deal with me!”

“We have an arrangement!” Maggie gasped, fending off blows. “What’s the matter with you?”

Lita seized Maggie by the collar with both hands, straddling her. “If you so much as think of hurting him, I will kill you with my own hands. And it will be a pleasure. Do you hear me?”

“He’s all yours, sister,” Maggie panted. “Lighten the hell up!”

“What is going on over there?” Several pairs of boots came running through the grass.
Thank God
, Maggie thought.

“Whatever you’ve heard,” Lita said to Maggie. “It’s lies. All lies.”

Numerous faces peered over the fallen tree at Lita on top of Maggie. One was Cain’s.

“What the hell is going on?” Cain’s voice was one of surprise more than anger, almost apologetic.

“Nothing.” Lita threw Maggie down with a thump, getting up, wiping her hands on her shorts. “A disagreement over the backpack.” She picked it up. “She was
not
to touch it.”

“You left it against a goddamn tree,” Maggie said, sitting up, feeling her jaw.

“We need to be on our way,” Cain said, looking at Lita, then Maggie, then back at Lita.

Maggie stood up, brushing herself off. Her jaw throbbed.

“We’re ready to leave for Quito,” Cain said. “The funds will be ready?”

“Ready. And Beltran?”

“He’ll be in Quito. We’ll make the trade there.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“We need to make one stop before we leave the Yasuni.”

“This mission you were talking about?” Maggie said apprehensively. “At the meeting?” She had enough to deal with.

Cain gave a curt nod. “You’re coming along. Then we’ll go make the transfer.” He turned and left.

They moved ahead, silently, Lita leading the way through night jungle. The other guerillas followed, Maggie and Cain at the end of the line. In the darkness Maggie had to focus to keep up with a tall man lugging a large knapsack in front of her.

“Where are we going?” she asked Cain.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“No flashlights?”

“There are patrols.”

Her nerves ratcheted up. The incessant squealing of cicada bugs was broken from time to time by the hoot of an owl. They pressed on until they got to the kapok tree Maggie had climbed earlier that day. Her muscles were still sore.

Just past the tree, the group stopped in the clearing where tall grass waved in the moonlight. Two small green disks of light appeared as Lita brought a pair of night-vision binoculars up to her face. Lowering the field glasses, she turned to the group and made a cranking motion with her hand.
All clear.

They crept across the field, the thick grass brushing their legs. More dense rainforest lay ahead. Maggie’s eyes had finally adjusted to the light.

A gap in the darkness appeared, filled with moonlight: the road that had been carved out by heavy equipment, slicing into the Yasuni. Lita turned to the group, her left arm extended in front of her body, her right hand toward her chest, then away, in a repeated motion.

Fan out.

They did so, moving to where the road was clearly visible.

Lita made a V sign, motioning for the rest of the group to stop, then proceeded ahead, silhouetted against the ambient light from the road. She stopped, raised the field glasses to her face again. She turned and turned a thumb down.

Enemy seen.

Sounds of weapons being racked into firing position echoed through the trees. Maggie’s heart rate quickened. A tap on her shoulder made her start.

Cain motioned for Maggie to stay put, giving her a stern look.

Where would she go? In the middle of the jungle at night?

Cain caught up to Lita, on the edge of the trees. The other guerillas followed, guns ready. Maggie tailed them, despite Cain’s warning.

Through the trees, she saw the bulldozer that had had such a difficult time getting started earlier that day at the lake. Attached to it was a trailer laden down with sections of three-foot-thick oil pipe. The equipment was most likely left there to continue the next day, rather than slogging back to the village. A crisscrossed stack of pipe stood by the side of the road.

A lone figure sitting in the open cab took Maggie by surprise when it moved, turning to stare into the trees where Lita and the others hid. “Who goes there?” A guard. A soldier.

He climbed out from under the metal awning over the driver’s seat, picked up a hand-held radio. Looking around, he stepped down onto the metal track.

He flinched as Lita, armed with a pistol, and two
terrucos
charged out into the road, their automatic rifles pointed at him.

“Drop the radio!” Lita barked.

The guard’s head jerked from side to side. He saw he was outnumbered and tossed the radio off the earthmover into the mud. His hands rose into the air.

“Don’t shoot!” he said. “Don’t shoot!”

He was the same guard who had checked Maggie’s passport.

Cain strolled out into the dirt road.

Lita brandished her pistol. “Down from the vehicle.”

The soldier jumped down, staggered, caught his balance, arms out.

“Hands up.”

His hands went back up, trembling.

Lita swaggered up, struck the soldier across the side of the head with the butt of her gun. He yelled and went down into the mud.

“Was that necessary?” Maggie shouted, dashing out from the trees.

“On your knees!” Lita shouted at the soldier. “Close your eyes.”

“I want no trouble.” The soldier climbed to his knees in the mud, clamping his eyes shut. “No trouble.”

Lita kicked him in the side and he grunted, falling over, throwing his arms out to break his fall.

“What the hell are your people doing?” Maggie said to Cain.

Cain turned. “You thought we were playing games? That all we wanted was money?”

“I never thought that at all. But this is not part of any deal. It ends now.”

Cain’s teeth showed as he spoke, “Now that you understand what I am capable of, perhaps you’ll think twice before trying anything besides making that transfer.”

“Why would I want to try anything?” she said. “I came here alone.”

“Lackey!” Lita roared. “Hands on the back of your head.”

The guard obeyed. Lita stood with the gun pointed at the back of his head. She nodded at the tall guerilla with the backpack.

The lanky man moved to the bulldozer, slipping off the pack, setting it gingerly on the ground. He unfastened the top, got out a large coil roll of what appeared to be electrical wire, followed by rolls of duct tape, and a box that, once opened, produced a dozen sticks of what had to be explosive. He unsheathed a knife, cut off a strip of tape, and fastened two sticks underneath one of the sections of tread on the bulldozer’s continuous track. He attached wire to the charges, unrolled the spool a couple of meters, looking up at the other grunts. “You two,” he said. “Give me a hand.”