Chapter 12: Q&A
After breakfast, Mr. Quispe wanted us to get familiar with his mining operation. Paul opted to stay behind and look after the family--our equipment was scheduled for delivery later that day, anyway, and he'd have to sign for it. So, Sag and I rode out east in a Jeep with Ignacio. Took about ninety minutes of bumpy, twisty driving through forests, mountains, and farmland to arrive at the mine. The Jeep kicked up a lot of dust in its wake, signaling our arrival.
Men with guns stepped forward, no doubt to determine if our presence was friendly or hostile. When they recognized Ignacio, they stood down and went back to their posts.
We climbed out of the Jeep and took in our surroundings. We were nestled deep within a mountain range. The mine itself wasn't much to look at: a narrow tunnel diving deep into the mountainside, with a metal track coming out of it. Several small buildings were nearby, made out of little more than wood beams and corrugated metal. This is where the miners ate and slept. For most of the year, they all lived here.
A dump truck was parked close by, about half full of coal. I wondered how long it took to fill up and how much money they got out of it. In my time, coal mining had become almost totally automated, requiring only human supervision of mechanical drones that did the heavy labor. Here and now, however, I assuemd it to be backbreaking work, difficult and strenuous.
A gentleman who seemed awfully clean for a miner exited one of the buildings and approached us. I guessed he was the interim foreman, about to be replaced by Ignacio's son. He smiled a lot, in too good a mood for someone who would soon lose his cushy position, I thought.
He said something to Mr. Quispe in Spanish that was roughly, "We caught one of them writing down a map of the mine and found a list of names in his pockets." I wondered what was so suspicious about either activity, but Mr. Quispe quickly explained to the two of us.
"They've found a suspected member of Shining Path. He was drawing a map of the mine and making a list of names, both of which he would provide to his masters. They would use the map to sabotage the mine and the names to intimidate the workers' families."
"What're ya gonna do with him, mate?" Sag asked. "Just cut 'im loose?"
"No. I would like the two of you to question him."
"'Question' him?" I sought clarification.
Mr. Quispe knelt down, lifted up his pant leg, and drew a handgun from its holster near his ankle. He handed it to me. "I want to know where their camp is and when he is scheduled to meet them next."
"How far do you want us to take this?"
"Don't kill him. Just find out what he knows."
Fair enough. I figured this was our first "test" from our new employer. See how far we'd go to do what he asked. I knew going in this job might require me to kill people. Just kind of comes with the territory. So, I wasn't worried about that. I just didn't want to kill people for no reason. No sense in that. Self-defense? Sure. Just for the hell of it? No way. But he told us not to off the guy, so I assumed we were on the same page there. He struck me as a reasonable man, and I had no reason to doubt him.
The foreman led us into the building from which he'd emerged. Looked like the room where they ate--card tables and folding chairs abounded. The prisoner had his ankles lashed to the legs of the chair, and his arms were bound together behind his back. His face, illuminated by a single, bare light bulb, appeared to have taken a little bit of "questioning" already.
I dismissed the foreman and we were left alone with this man, whom I expected to be quite uncooperative. I'd dealt with such people before, in my line of work. In the after math of World War III, I got shipped off to various colony worlds that tried to break away from Earth. Much of the work involved gathering information from people who didn't necessarily want to give it up.
I got his attention by asking in his native tongue, "What is your name?"
"Capac," he growled, almost like he meant it to insult me.
"People here think you're working for Shining Path. What do you have to say about that?"
His eyes narrowed, focusing on me. "They are lies. I am loyal to the union!"
"Got an explanation for the map and the list of names, then?" I waved the gun around to make sure he noticed it, try to "discourage" lying.
"I am only trying to do my job! The maps they give us are out of date. I am new and still learning names. That is all!"
I looked to Sag, who leaned against the wall, arms folded. "What do you think, Sag? This guy lying?"
"Through his teeth, mate!"
"You want a crack at him?"
"Oh, I'd be delighted." I handed him the gun and stepped aside.
His Spanish wasn't as good as mine, but he managed. "Where be your sisters residing?" is what his opening question boiled down to.
"I'll tell you nothing!" He followed this with some kind of swear word I didn't recognize. Classy!
Sag whipped him across the face with the side of the gun. At least the safety was on. Capac just slowly turned his head to make eye contact with Sag again. Looked damned defiant about it, too. "We are the nice people. If you fail to converse there can be nothing to assist you."
When he refused to talk, Sag stomped on one of his feet and then, when Capac cried out, whipped his face again. Gave him a black eye, this time. Fucker still wouldn't say anything useful. Just claimed to be loyal, then claimed he didn't know what we were talking about, and then appeared to be stonewalling. He didn't act like an innocent man--he clearly knew what we wanted to know and just opted to be a stubborn ass. Granted, his bosses would probably kill him if he talked, but I didn't see why he couldn't be protected in that case. You cooperate, you get to live. Isn't that how it works?
But we got nowhere with this guy. We grilled him for a couple hours, me in my impeccable Spanish, and Sag with his broken half-nonsense, and no amount of whacking him or breaking his toes did any good. Sag suggested shooting him somewhere nonessential but in this environment, he was liable to get an infection and die, and Mr. Quispe specifically asked us not to kill the dude.
So, I sent Sag off to retrieve our employer. Mr. Quispe came in and glanced at me. "I hear you have been unable to make him talk."
I nodded. "He clearly has the information you want, or he's deliberately pretending to while withholding it. Either way, he's wasting our time."
He sighed. "I would like my weapon back." I handed it over to him. Without missing a beat, he aimed right for Capac's forehead and fired. The prisoner's head flew back, leaving his mouth hanging open. A little blood dripped out of the forehead wound.
Sag and I had both jumped when he fired. We didn't expect it. Why did he ask us to leave Capac alive if he only intended to kill him? Maybe that was exactly it--he didn't want the blood on our hands. He didn't want us to do the dirty work when he could do it himself.
Still, he left us with some of the dirty work. "Dispose of the body, gentlemen," he ordered as he walked out.
Chapter 12
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Chapter 12: Q&A After
After breakfast, Mr. Quispe wanted us to get familiar with his mining operation. Paul opted to stay behind and look after the family--our equipment was scheduled for delivery later that day, anyway, and he'd have to sign for it. Is it Paul specifically who has to sign for it, or just one of them?So, Sag and I rode out east in a Jeep with Ignacio. Took about ninety minutes of bumpy, twisty driving through forests, mountains, and farmland to arrive at the mine. The Jeep kicked up a lot of dust in its wake, signaling our arrival.
Men with guns stepped forward, no doubt to determine if our presence was friendly or hostile. When they recognized Ignacio, they stood down and went back to their posts.
We climbed out of the Jeep and took in our surroundings. We were nestled deep within a mountain range. The mine itself wasn't much to look at: a narrow tunnel diving deep into the mountainside, with a metal track coming out of it. Several small buildings were nearby, made out of little more than wood beams and corrugated metal. This is where the miners ate and slept. For most of the year, they all lived here. I find myself wondering how Robert feels about the miner's situation - does he feel sorry for them at all, living in such shit conditions?
A dump truck was parked close by, about half full of coal. I wondered how long it took to fill up and how much money they got out of it. In my time, coal mining had become almost totally automated, requiring only human supervision of mechanical drones that did the heavy labor. Here and now, however, I assuemd it to be backbreaking work, difficult and strenuous.
A gentleman who seemed awfully clean for a miner exited one of the buildings and approached us. I guessed he was the interim foreman, about to be replaced by Ignacio's son. He smiled a lot, in too good a mood for someone who would soon lose his cushy position, I thought.
He said something to Mr. Quispe in Spanish that was roughly, "We caught one of them writing down a map of the mine and found a list of names in his pockets." I wondered what was so suspicious about either activity, but Mr. Quispe quickly explained to the two of us.
"They've found a suspected member of Shining Path. He was drawing a map of the mine and making a list of names, both of which he would provide to his masters. They would use the map to sabotage the mine and the names to intimidate the workers' families."
"What're ya gonna do with him, mate?" Sag asked. "Just cut 'im loose?"
"No. I would like the two of you to question him."
"'Question' him?" I sought clarification.
Mr. Quispe knelt down, lifted up his pant leg, and drew a handgun from its holster near his ankle. He handed it to me. "I want to know where their camp is and when he is scheduled to meet them next."
"How far do you want us to take this?"
"Don't kill him. Just find out what he knows."
Fair enough. I figured this was our first "test" from our new employer. See how far we'd go to do what he asked. I knew going in that this job might require me to kill people. Just kind of comes with the territory. So, I wasn't worried about that. I just didn't want to kill people for no reason. No sense in that. Self-defense? Sure. Just for the hell of it? No way. But he told us not to off the guy, so I assumed we were on the same page there. He struck me as a reasonable man, and I had no reason to doubt him.
The foreman led us into the building from which he'd emerged. Looked like the room where they ate--card tables and folding chairs abounded. The prisoner had his ankles lashed to the legs of the chair, and his arms were bound together behind his back. His face, illuminated by a single, bare light bulb, appeared to have taken a little bit of "questioning" already.
I dismissed the foreman and we were left alone with this man, whom I expected to be quite uncooperative. I'd dealt with such people before, in my line of work. In the after math of World War III, I got shipped off to various colony worlds that tried to break away from Earth. Much of the work involved gathering information from people who didn't necessarily want to give it up.
I got his attention by asking in his native tongue, "What is your name?"
"Capac," he growled, almost like he meant it to insult me.
"People here think you're working for Shining Path. What do you have to say about that?"
His eyes narrowed, focusing on me. "They are lies. I am loyal to the union!"
"Got an explanation for the map and the list of names, then?" I waved the gun around to make sure he noticed it, try to "discourage" lying.
"I am only trying to do my job! The maps they give us are out of date. I am new and still learning names. That is all!"
I looked to Sag, who leaned against the wall, arms folded. "What do you think, Sag? This guy lying?"
"Through his teeth, mate!"
"You want a crack at him?"
"Oh, I'd be delighted." I handed him the gun and stepped aside.
His Spanish wasn't as good as mine, but he managed. "Where be your sisters residing?" is what his opening question boiled down to.
"I'll tell you nothing!" He followed this with some kind of swear word I didn't recognize. Classy!
Sag whipped him across the face with the side of the gun. At least the safety was on. Capac just slowly turned his head to make eye contact with Sag again. Looked damned defiant about it, too. "We are the nice people. If you fail to converse there can be nothing to assist you."
When he refused to talk, Sag stomped on one of his feet and then, when Capac cried out, whipped his face again. Gave him a black eye, this time. Fucker still wouldn't say anything useful. Just claimed to be loyal, then claimed he didn't know what we were talking about, and then appeared to be stonewalling. He didn't act like an innocent man--he clearly knew what we wanted to know and just opted to be a stubborn ass. Granted, his bosses would probably kill him if he talked, but I didn't see why he couldn't be protected in that case. You cooperate, you get to live. Isn't that how it works?
But we got nowhere with this guy. We grilled him for a couple hours, me in my impeccable Spanish, and Sag with his broken half-nonsense, and no amount of whacking him or breaking his toes did any good. Sag suggested shooting him somewhere nonessential but in this environment, he was liable to get an infection and die, and Mr. Quispe specifically asked us not to kill the dude.
So, I sent Sag off to retrieve our employer. Mr. Quispe came in and glanced at me. "I hear you have been unable to make him talk."
I nodded. "He clearly has the information you want, or he's deliberately pretending to while withholding it. Either way, he's wasting our time."
He sighed. "I would like my weapon back." I handed it over to him. Without missing a beat, he aimed right for Capac's forehead and fired. The prisoner's head flew back, leaving his mouth hanging open. A little blood dripped out of the forehead wound.
Sag and I had both jumped when he fired. We didn't expect it. Why did he ask us to leave Capac alive if he only intended to kill him? Maybe that was exactly it--he didn't want the blood on our hands. He didn't want us to do the dirty work when he could do it himself.
Still, he left us with some of the dirty work. "Dispose of the body, gentlemen," he ordered as he walked out.