A King's ransom

56

Matthew had no idea where he was. Without the benefit of pack mules they’d marched deep into the valley. At the first sighting of a real road, the prisoners were blindfolded, first Emilio and then Matthew.

They walked about another hundred meters, the barrel of the rifle poking him in the back, urging him forward. They stopped on command. He heard a car door open, and he was shoved into the back of a van. He heard Emilio bang his head and curse, which strangely comforted Matthew. At least he knew he wasn’t going alone. The door slammed, the engine started. The van pulled away, a very bumpy ride at first, then a little smoother. It felt like the same road that they’d taken from Cartagena when this whole nightmare had started, but with the blindfold he had no way of knowing.

“Emilio?” he whispered.

“?Silencio!” said the driver.

He recognized the voice as Joaquin’s. Matthew retreated into darkness, strangely deprived of more than just his sight by the thick blindfold. Bouncing in the rear of the van had put his entire equilibrium off.

He lay on his side on the metal floor, the tires of the van whining just below his ear. Seated in front were at least two guerrillas. Matthew sensed the presence of others, but he’d heard only two voices. The driver was definitely Joaquin, and he was pretty sure the other guy was Cerdo. He was complaining that his new street clothes were too tight, but Matthew’s mind had already raced beyond the petty gripes. If they were wearing new clothes, they were leaving their guerrilla fatigues behind. Matthew knew what that meant.

They were headed for the city.

He tried not to start the emotional roller coaster, but his spirits soared anyway. A trip to the city could certainly be a sign that his release was in the works. The blackness behind the blindfold was suddenly a happy place. He saw Cathy’s smiling face, his hand on her pregnant belly. He saw Thanksgiving dinner in Coral Gables with Nick and Lindsey at the table. He saw hot showers and razor blades and juicy sirloin steaks.

He didn’t care if silence was the rule. He needed to ask a question.

“?Adonde vamos?” Where are we going?

“?Silencio!” shouted Joaquin.

It was risky to act up, but Matthew was tired of the abuse, tired of knowing nothing. “?Adonde vamos?” he asked once more.

The other guy, Cerdo, said something that made Joaquin laugh. Matthew didn’t understand what he’d said.

“?Donde?” he said.

Neither one answered. Joaquin was still chuckling softly to himself. Finally Matthew heard a whisper from Emilio in English.

“He says we’re headed for the hostage hotel.”

Matthew retreated into dark silence. Somehow it hadn’t struck him as all that funny.