10.1 Double-Cross

They arrived in Lima, in familiar territory, she tried several numbers and could not reach anyone.

When they booked for a double room, they were shown to a twin. It happened before. Half an hour later, they came downstairs and requested at the reception for a double bed. And the girl at the counter twitched a face and changed them to the third floor; a double bed. Here the AC wasn’t working properly and they called a technician upstairs.

Madeleine sat on the bed with the telephone on her lap and sweating in a white shirt and black pants. The rooms were tiny and all the buildings narrow, ten or five storeys high, flanking on each other down the narrow lanes. Luckily, she found a space to park her vehicle.

Finally, someone returned a call, “Hola! Where are you?”

“I am in Miraflores.”

“Why?”

“At a hostel,” Madeleine said.

“That is not safe.”

“I want your help.”

“I am occupied and I’m very sorry…”

Suddenly, a lump of water dropped on the carpet and soaked the floor. That poor guy was still working on it.

Madeleine and Marina came downstairs and noticed a cafeteria at the end of the lobby behind the stairs. There again Madeleine tried to make calls.

“Oh hi! Guido! I need your help!”

“I am busy,” returned Guido, “my party is taking the toll.”

“Oh no, Guido! We must meet. It is that important,” Madeleine insisted.

“Where are you?

“At Hotel León in Miraflores. It is not a hotel. This is a hostel,” she corrected.

“What are you doing there? It’s not safe at all. Go to Radisson.”

“I will tell you when you come.”

“Okay,” said Guido, “I will be there by six and don’t go anywhere even if I’m late by a few hours. I will come.”

“What is wrong with these people? No one is available!” cried Madeleine replacing the handset, “Not safe! Not safe!”

Often when she travelled to Lima, they knew she stayed at posh hotels.

Guido arrived at nine and sat down at the cafeteria. Marina was in the room upstairs. “Who is this woman?” he asked.

“I have to take her into Colombia,” said Madeleine, “and nobody should know.”

“Day and night we are fighting against the Fujimori government,” Guido warned, “It’s very dangerous here, particularly in this area. Shining Path is heavily armed and active.”

During this time, the Shining Path, an armed guerrilla wing of the Communist Party of Peru, launched their campaign to overthrow the government and establish a dictatorship. Their leader was Abimael Guzmán. This group ambushed the police, killed innocent civilians, tortured and recruited farmers, kidnapped political figures and at the time their insurgence risen to a peak.

Madeleine was dealing with a group of terrorists to seek a way out. Two months after they left, the Shining Path detonated a powerful bomb on Tarata Street in Miraflores, killing many people and injuring several others, very close to Hotel León where they stayed.

“If she has the passport, she can fly in,” said Guido.

“I can’t travel with her!”

“I will arrange someone.”

“Two. I need somebody to take care of my mobile,” said Madeleine, “I drive to Quito and fly to Medellín. Then I join her in Cali. I fly back to Lima.”

“You want to drive to Quito!”

“Yes!”

“It’s far more dangerous than what you think,” Guido protested, “this terrain is mountainous, roads are not paved and they hang on cliffs. Water and mud, rocks and no drinking water, no fuel. It is not like the way you came. You can’t make it in three days.”

“I have to fly to Colombia on a different passport,” disclosed Madeleine, “I don’t want to use it in Peru. It has to be Ecuador or Bolivia. What do you suggest?”

“Fly from here to Tumbes,” he said, “Go by car, by boat, on foot and cross the border, no check, then make to Santa Rosa in Ecuador, fly to Quito to go to Colombia.”

“Papers!” she enquired.

“It can be done.”

“Then you must arrange two more guys to drive my car back to Buenos Aires.”

“I can get you some chicas. We’re full of them. Forty percent of our strength are made up of women. That’s what we call manpower.”

“I fly from here.”

“Give me three days and I will arrange all that for you.”

Madeleine passed some two-thousand US dollars and asked, “Can you please change this for me on black market rate!”

“Fine.”

“Shall I call the girl?”

“Sure.”