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MAMACOCA, p. 4
The llama train enters the outskirts of the village. Several men come to meet the old one. They call him "Mamacoca," a name given only to men of wisdom. The men take charge of the animals and cargo. The multitude surrounding the old one shows he is a chief, a man of power. As Lorenzo squats in a corner of the plaza, many around him do likewise. The men confer in their native Quinchua language and coca is ceremoniously exchanged. Charles, inmidst the confusion of the market, succeeds in stealing a blanket from behind a vendor stand. The eyes of Lorenzo catch the action, but the old Indian continues his conference unperturbed. Less noticeable draped in the stolen Indian blanket, Charles proceeds to get food, swiftly concealing under the blanket what he manages to grab from a stand. Once again the eyes of Lorenzo, who is now walking through the crowd followed by his retinue, catch the action. This time the Indian, pointing to Charles, turns to one of his men for information about the stranger. The exchange is in native language. There is a commotion outside the hotel. A dense crowd has gathered. A rickety ambulance is parked in front. Police. Clare's body, wrapped in a bloody sheet, is being carried out on a stretcher. Several of the women in the crowd cross themselves. The mestizo boy comes running from the direction of the hotel to Lorenzo to report what he knows. Nodding without a change of expression, the "Mamacoca" pats the boy on the head in approval. In the crowd we overhear mention of CIA assassins, guerilleras, cocaine killers. Lorenzo and a few of his people walk away, through narrow streets to an old house on the edge of the barranca that opens to a view of the western mountains. The group enters the house. A cold fog rises from the mountains as night falls. Charles looks exhausted. He is desperately searching for a place to hide. His blanket tightly wrapped around him, he manages to find shelter from the wind in an archway of the old mission. He is getting sick. Delirious. An old Indian woman, carrying a bundle of wood in the last dim light, sees Charles and stops. She quickens her step and goes to the house of Lorenzo to seek help. A jeep is parked in front of the house. Several men come running out. Charles is carried back and laid on a bed in a lantern-lit room. The women of the house busy themselves to care for him. The eldest of the three, and old curandera, takes charge of what needs to be done. Poultices of tobacco and mustard are boiled and applied by deft hands to Charles' heaving chest. A young, beautiful Indian girl prepares a hot tea of coca leaves. She holds the bowl to Charles' feverish lips, who drinks and breathes in the vapors. A strange pulsating chant is sung by the women around the sick bed. Their bodies sway to the movement in the song. An air of witchcraft pervades the room, enhanced by the eerie sound of the howling wind outside. Sitting around a wooden table in the kitchen, Lorenzo and two of his men face the two Americans who have murdered Clare. In controlled anger the "Mamacoca" warns the foreigners that this is his territory, and that in his territory NO ONE gets killed. Were the operation not so important, they would find themselves in serious trouble. Lorenzo holds his decision to carry out this last deal. The two men are to be brought deep into the interior to the jungle kitchens by one of Lorenzo's tribe. There they are to await the "Mamacoca's" arrival. The two killers vainly attempt to justify themselves. Clare was only a spy for the U.S. government - a CIA agent passing herself off as a Peace Corps recruit. Lorenzo bluntly states that he already knows all this since nothing is hidden from him in his own territory. The two leave, climb into the jeep parked outside, and drive off in the windy darkness. In his bed Charles tosses violently in nightmare. More blasts of gunfire sink into the body of his nosing jetfighter. The mask of death is painted on Charles' face. He comes to briefly. His eyes behold the angelic radiance of the young Indian girl. He mumbles something about not wanting to die and lapses back into unconsciousness. The girl wipes his brow and gazes at him in silence. The
following day Charles awakens to a flood of sunlight, streaming though
his window. He feels well. He looks around, trying to remember where
he is. |
