Marisol gathered up her courage and dealt with the police again, themselves still in some shock at the unexpected attack upon their families. Now that the kidnapping had become national news, and had hit the international wires, backing down on either side became unthinkable. As Ken told Marisol in a text message, “The die is cast.”
The call came, and this time the rogue agents in charge gloated as to their superior position. As Ken said, Marisol did the talking. She surprised the agents by not meekly acceding to their demands, but instead insulted them and mocked them- “acceptable losses”, she said.
“What can you do now?” she said, “Your violence is front-page news throughout Colombia, and the wire services now tell the world of what you’ve done here. You wanted my daughter so you could bargain with my husband, but he is now dead. You took the sons and daughters of honorable men that sought a peaceful conclusion when we challenged your desire to negotiate honestly with us. You men call yourselves ‘professionals’? You are nothing of the sort. Professionals are not so easily roused to senseless butchery to assuage bruised egos.”
Quietly, in her earpiece, Ken said “Keep going. I’ve found their line and I’m tapping it.”
“You are in no position to say shit to me.” said a rogue agent, “We got to your man, and we got to your cops’ kids and women. We can just skip this and take you out too.”
“Oh? Is that so? Then this is not about money, is it? You wouldn’t say so if it were.”
“I’m in.” Ken said, “Tracing.”
“No, you’re after The White Death. No, don’t bother denying it. It’s all people on the street, or online, talk about now. You show up in the wake of our nation’s—our region’s—liberation from decades of collusion between the narco-trafficking syndicates and corrupt officials throughout the continent by this one man, a man strong enough and tough enough to do what should have been done generations ago, and then exposes their ties to Washington D.C. and the Anglo-American Empire based there.”
“Got it.” Ken said, “Sending coordinates.”
“Oh no,” Marisol said, “you’re here to bring us back under your banksters’ boots. That is not going to happen.”
Just then, a shot echoed into the house from across the street.
“They had a hitter in position; he was about to take the shot.” Ken said, “He’s dead, and I know where they’re hiding.”
A few moments passed, and the rogue agent on the other end went silent.
“Your man is dead.” Marisol said, “The White Death got him. He knows where you are, and he’s coming for you. If you value your lives, you had better run.”
“I don’t think so.” The agent said, “We have what you want.”
“And if you don’t return what is ours, unharmed, then pray that the White Death finds you first. We will not be merciful; we are The People of the Sun.”