Payback

9

“The post office attack was a success,” Keros told General Túcume. “Most successful. The government is being ridiculed.”

“Excellent,” Túcume told him.

“Four more car bombs will go off in Lima tonight. In Pisco—”

“I do not believe we need any more car bombs.”

Keros looked stricken.

“The plan,” said Keros. “As you outlined—”

“Yes, I know. But too many attacks will not help us. We have the effect we need. To go too far may damage us more than help.”

So far, twelve people had been killed in the various car bomb attacks in Lima blamed on Sendero Nuevo, the New Path guerrillas; another dozen or so had died in similar incidents in other cities. Túcume regretted this, as necessary as it was. Even though the bombs had been exploded in areas that belonged to the descendants of the conquistadors, there was no way to guarantee that they alone were the victims. He had ruled out attacks in areas heavily populated by natives and especially in Cusco and similar cities, where Inca blood remained strong.

The takeover of the Lima post office — orchestrated by Keros with the help of a few sympathetic police officers and hand-picked men from Túcume’s division who posed as the terrorists — seemed an apt climax of this phase of the campaign. It had gone perfectly, with no injuries among the hostages. A congressional member of Aznar’s party had “negotiated” their release, as well as the surrender of the guerrillas; this was mentioned prominently in all of the stories.

The next phase of Túcume’s plan to install Aznar would be even more dramatic. There was no need for more bombings.

“I will cancel the attacks, General,” said Keros.

“You’ve done well. I have every confidence in you. When our time comes, you will be richly rewarded. Your ancestors would be proud.”

Keros bowed his head rather quaintly and backed away a few steps before turning to leave the general’s hotel suite. Túcume had a very modest office at the army building in the city. It was bugged, so he never did real work there, certainly nothing requiring secrecy. Instead, he commandeered hotel suites and even whole floors when he had business in the city.

Túcume turned his attention back to the weather report he had received before Keros came in. Heavy rains were anticipated tomorrow in the area where Túcume’s military unit patrolled; beyond that the forecasts were unsettled. If heavy rains did come, some of the precarious mountain roads in the area would be washed out — including the road to the village where he had originally intended to “discover” the rebels’ secret weapon.

He reached down for his briefcase and took out a topographical map of the region. There were not many roads in the area to begin with, and so his choices were limited. He looked again at his favored target on the Ecuador border. It was perfect; not only was it isolated enough that he could control access, but the proximity to Ecuador would naturally imply that their traditional enemy had been aiding the rebels. This would undoubtedly prove useful in the future.

But if the truck was to get stuck before it reached the village…

There were two other possibilities, located farther south.

There was a knock on the door. He made his decision — an unnamed hamlet northeast of Boria — then folded his map.

“Come,” he said.

“General, your helicopter has been refueled,” said Captain Chimor, his chief of staff.

“Very well.” Túcume rose. “Captain, see if you can arrange a meeting with the American CIA officer at the embassy. Tell him I want to have lunch. Call him from the division phones.”

“The general staff will know instantly.”

“Yes, that is my intention. Mention Sendero Nuevo,” Túcume added. “Say this with an offhand tone, something casual, as if it’s spontaneous. But make sure it comes up. Tell him that it would be useful for him to have lunch. Tomorrow. At the club in Lima.”

“Yes, General.”

Túcume rose. “We are moving forward, Chimor. Always forward. I will be back by early morning.”