lesson.”
He remembered the night clearly, even though it had been many years ago. The hotel had been much livelier in those days and Señor Marcos’s father, Ramon, had been in the bar, laughing and joking with his customers when a couple of men came in, demanding that he sign over his hotel to them. It hadn’t been the first time they had asked, but this time they were more threatening and said that they had run out of patience. Ramon ran out the back of the building and drove off in his car. Rather than go to the trouble of pursuing him, the thugs grabbed Ramon’s son, Marcos, a mere boy at the time who was playing in the kitchen with his mother. When the men started to drag the child away, Don Paulo tried to stop them, along with some of the other customers who were there, but the thugs were ready and hit back with large sticks that they had brought with them. Don Paulo was knocked unconscious and only came round after several hours by which time it was too late. The young Señor Marcos was found two days later, out in a field, covered in blood and barely alive. His father never returned.
“Teach them what lesson?” Mary asked.
Don Paulo continued to keep his eyes firmly on the road as he replied, “They wanted to teach the family who was boss. They learnt their lesson. Señor Marcos now pays half of what he earns to them. That is why his rates are so high.” It was also one reason why Don Paulo was happy to have Mary out of the hotel. He didn’t mind paying Marcos, as he needed the money, but he was not happy about the fifty percent of the bill that went into other people’s pockets.
“But who would do such a thing?” Mary sounded so innocent that Don Paulo almost laughed. Almost.
“You have met him, though briefly. The man who did it was El Leon.”
He heard Mary gasp. Maybe now she would realise what he had saved her from.
“Did they arrest him? A man like that should be in prison.”
“He should be in prison, I agree, but they did not arrest him. He did not carry out the attack personally, but hired gangsters from across the border. They fled back as quickly as they had come. And what can the local police do? They do nothing. They are scared that El Leon’s men will come in the night and hurt them and their sons as they did Señor Marcos, while raping their daughters and their wives. It has happened to others.” Don Paulo decided not to go into the details of all the atrocities that El Leon and his men had committed over the years.
“But that’s terrible. Something should be done! What about the Government?”
“Ah yes, the Government.” Paulo gave a little snort of derision. “One of El Leon’s friends has a cousin who is a leading government minister. There are even rumours that El Leon himself might run for President one day.”
Mary was silent for a while and then she said, “Does El Leon ever try to intimidate you?”
“El Leon and I have an understanding,” and he changed the conversation to the scenery around them, as they were now in the coffee growing district. He told her about the plants, how they were cultivated and the different types of beans. He also explained how variations in soil and climate produced delicate changes in the taste and aroma of the coffee.
“Who owns all these coffee fields?” she asked. From the jeep, all you could see were hills covered in coffee plants, as far as the eye could see.
“I do. This is my estate.”
“Wow!”
He smiled to himself, pleased that she was impressed. He did not tell her that he often wished his estate was a lot smaller, as running it was an immense task. Worrying about it kept him awake night after night into the early hours of the morning.
“And where is your house?”
“Don’t worry, we are almost there,” he reassured her. They had been driving for almost an hour and were now high up in the hills.
“Do you live alone?”
“Alone?” He laughed. He couldn’t imagine running his huge house on his own.
He remembered the night clearly, even though it had been many years ago. The hotel had been much livelier in those days and Señor Marcos’s father, Ramon, had been in the bar, laughing and joking with his customers when a couple of men came in, demanding that he sign over his hotel to them. It hadn’t been the first time they had asked, but this time they were more threatening and said that they had run out of patience. Ramon ran out the back of the building and drove off in his car. Rather than go to the trouble of pursuing him, the thugs grabbed Ramon’s son, Marcos, a mere boy at the time who was playing in the kitchen with his mother. When the men started to drag the child away, Don Paulo tried to stop them, along with some of the other customers who were there, but the thugs were ready and hit back with large sticks that they had brought with them. Don Paulo was knocked unconscious and only came round after several hours by which time it was too late. The young Señor Marcos was found two days later, out in a field, covered in blood and barely alive. His father never returned.
“Teach them what lesson?” Mary asked.
Don Paulo continued to keep his eyes firmly on the road as he replied, “They wanted to teach the family who was boss. They learnt their lesson. Señor Marcos now pays half of what he earns to them. That is why his rates are so high.” It was also one reason why Don Paulo was happy to have Mary out of the hotel. He didn’t mind paying Marcos, as he needed the money, but he was not happy about the fifty percent of the bill that went into other people’s pockets.
“But who would do such a thing?” Mary sounded so innocent that Don Paulo almost laughed. Almost.
“You have met him, though briefly. The man who did it was El Leon.”
He heard Mary gasp. Maybe now she would realise what he had saved her from.
“Did they arrest him? A man like that should be in prison.”
“He should be in prison, I agree, but they did not arrest him. He did not carry out the attack personally, but hired gangsters from across the border. They fled back as quickly as they had come. And what can the local police do? They do nothing. They are scared that El Leon’s men will come in the night and hurt them and their sons as they did Señor Marcos, while raping their daughters and their wives. It has happened to others.” Don Paulo decided not to go into the details of all the atrocities that El Leon and his men had committed over the years.
“But that’s terrible. Something should be done! What about the Government?”
“Ah yes, the Government.” Paulo gave a little snort of derision. “One of El Leon’s friends has a cousin who is a leading government minister. There are even rumours that El Leon himself might run for President one day.”
Mary was silent for a while and then she said, “Does El Leon ever try to intimidate you?”
“El Leon and I have an understanding,” and he changed the conversation to the scenery around them, as they were now in the coffee growing district. He told her about the plants, how they were cultivated and the different types of beans. He also explained how variations in soil and climate produced delicate changes in the taste and aroma of the coffee.
“Who owns all these coffee fields?” she asked. From the jeep, all you could see were hills covered in coffee plants, as far as the eye could see.
“I do. This is my estate.”
“Wow!”
He smiled to himself, pleased that she was impressed. He did not tell her that he often wished his estate was a lot smaller, as running it was an immense task. Worrying about it kept him awake night after night into the early hours of the morning.
“And where is your house?”
“Don’t worry, we are almost there,” he reassured her. They had been driving for almost an hour and were now high up in the hills.
“Do you live alone?”
“Alone?” He laughed. He couldn’t imagine running his huge house on his own.
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