Twelve foot high chain link gates to the penned enclosure were latched closed, but not locked. Marquez went through and then followed the four-wheel drive track down through Scotch broom and across an icy stream. The road climbed through trees. It reached a clearing and Marquez panted hard as he knelt down. He glimpsed the back of the Range Rover, heard Stoval and Trocca talking. He skirted brush, catching his breath as he caught view of Trocca holding a gun and Stoval leaning over Chole. He could also see the long run of high fence dropping toward a canyon and how trees and brush were cleared away from it, and the electrified strands running at the top. Transistors on the fence hummed and he finally understood.
In the clearing Stoval looped a chain around the cuffs that held Chole’s ankles and then ran the chain through an iron hoop staked to the ground. The chain clinked and somewhere in the distance he heard the cry of an animal. Soon after came the low whooping of hyena.
Hyenas wouldn’t leave anything behind, not even bones if they were hungry enough, and Stoval probably made sure they got hungry enough. They must be hungry if they were this bold. They were circling, closing. They seemed to frighten General Trocca whose voice carried as he encouraged Stoval to finish and to stop talking to Chole. Stoval bent over Chole, probably describing what was going to happen.
Marquez moved toward the hyenas and a break in the brush. He wanted to get through that opening before the animals spread out more. The opening allowed him to blindside them. Trocca faced the hyenas whooping in the brush straight ahead of them and Stoval’s back was to Marquez as he charged into the clearing.
From the look on his face as he wheeled, Trocca expected a hyena. He got off two shots and missed with both before Marquez slammed into him, tearing the gun out of his hand and battering his throat with an elbow. Trocca went down gagging and Marquez’s momentum carried him stumbling on to Stoval. Stoval pulled a knife. He lunged upward with it and with luck Marquez blocked it with the rifle. Then he knocked the knife loose and swept the gun stock across Stoval’s face. He knocked him down, then knocked him out and found the keys in his coat. He dragged a struggling Trocca over, freed Chole’s legs and hooked up Trocca to the ankle cuffs that had held Chole.
He got Chole to his feet as Stoval stirred and Marquez took the chance of getting Chole to the Range Rover before going back for Stoval. Chole’s face was a mess and he was having trouble breathing. Marquez got him closer to the Range Rover then had to leave him as Stoval retrieved the knife and stood. When that happened Marquez quickly picked up the rifle.
‘Drop the knife.’
Stoval didn’t answer and then did something Marquez never saw coming. He moved sideways to Trocca, leaned and slashed open one side of Trocca’s throat. Blood spurted onto Trocca’s face and into the dirt. Trocca’s hand rose to his neck and he spasmed and his body jerked as Stoval ran toward the brush and Marquez swung the rifle and sighted on Stoval. The shot was easy, but he didn’t pull the trigger. He saw Trocca’s blood sprayed over Stoval’s pant legs, and blood dripping off Stoval’s face where the blow from the gun stock had opened his cheek. He thought about it and let Stoval push into the brush, watched him disappear.
Trocca bled out before the first hyenas showed themselves. A big female crept into the clearing as Marquez got a seatbelt on Chole. At his feet as he shut the door and started back around the Range Rover was a shard of yellow bone that could be human. He stooped, picked it up, and dropped it in the Range Rover. He started the engine. Chole needed medical help and soon. He saw the hyenas reach Trocca’s body but he couldn’t do anything about that or go after Stoval yet. Chole’s breath was ragged. His lips were not only split and swollen, but blue from cold. His nose and front teeth were broken. He wasn’t far from going into shock.
Before Marquez drove away, he locked the gate. The Range Rover rocked as they bounced back down the rough road to the stream. Chole made sounds about needing water and Marquez got him water and then drove on. Several ribs were badly broken and Chole moaned as they bounced through potholes. Up on the plateau, he lost consciousness. He said ‘ Mi amigo ’ and then closed his eyes, and when Marquez reached over and felt for a pulse what was there was erratic.
Now, as he hit the paved road he drove hard. He called Verandas on the way into Bariloche and Verandas met him at the clinic. Two doctors were waiting. They worked on Chole as Marquez and Verandas walked out on to the cold street. The snow on the mountains looked very bright and clean as they talked over what to do next.
‘He’s not going over the fence,’ Marquez said. ‘It’s electrified.’
‘What about the gate?’
‘He went the other way, but maybe he knows another way out.’
Marquez doubted there was another way out. He looked over at Verandas and added, ‘I heard something in the distance as I was locking the gate. I’m not sure what it was, but not all of the hyenas were with Trocca. We need to get the police chief here to go back out there with us and you’ve got to get to two computers in a study. There are two steel doors with reinforced glass and when I tapped on the walls there’s metal there too. I don’t know how you’re going to get through, but I think everything is in those computers. None of the buildings were locked. Not a single door except for that study. I’ll go down to the pen with the police but you’ve got to figure a way to reach those computers. Can you do that?’
‘I’m more worried about the encryption. This guy has the money for the best.’
The police arrived but didn’t want to go anywhere until they had interviewed Chole. It was another hour and a half before Chole was able to say what had happened. He showed the police chief a dart hole in his right side under his ribs. Stoval had shot him there last night and his best guess was that the dart had an animal tranquilizer. He didn’t remember the ride or getting to the house. He came to in a shed with his ankles and wrists in cuffs, and Stoval prodding his face with a stick. He’d lost three teeth. He had five broken ribs. Every bone in his left hand was broken.
He looked at Marquez as he told the police chief, ‘I told him I was going to arrest him for killing two condors. I told him I had proof.’
‘Where did you get it?’
Chole nodded toward Marquez.
They drove back out there in two police vehicles, Marquez and Verandas riding with the chief and another officer. The chief rode in the front seat and the officer drove as they got up on the plateau. As they came alongside the main house the chief turned and said, ‘You wait here.’
They went inside after the police disappeared into the trees. A maid had showed up and was working, but she was frightened when Verandas told her she needed to open the study doors. She wouldn’t do it, but retrieved a hidden key and let Verandas open them. When he sat down in front of the computers she tried to stop him and Marquez guided her out of the room. Verandas got online and checked in with FBI headquarters in Washington. Within minutes they were running a supercomputer at Stoval’s encryption and outside Marquez heard shots fired and then an engine as the police chief and officers returned. The police chief was very direct with Marquez.
‘Get in the jeep.’
‘Did you find them?’
The chief did not answer the question. Despite the cold he was sweating profusely and though he had ridden in the passenger seat on the way out, he was now driving. He drove down the road and through the water, and as if to compensate for the bouncing ride he went slowly up the other side. He kept talking about the hyenas and looked over at Marquez and shook his head as they pulled into the clearing.
Marquez opened his door and got out. He walked toward the iron hoop and a hyena backed away with a bone. The chief fired into the air and the other hyenas moved into the brush.
‘They are disgusting,’ the chief said, and Marquez looked down at a stained shred of Trocca’s shirt. The ankle cuffs were blood-smeared. There was a shoe, but it was empty and chewed. There were other small pieces of clothing and not much else, though there was fighting between the hyenas deeper in the brush. The chief did not want to remain in the open clearing and they got in the jeep. The police chief turned to Marquez, as if explaining to him.
‘You did what you had to do to free the warden and protect yourself. Then we came here as fast as we could. We came straight out.’
‘Yes.’
‘No time was lost at the hospital.’
‘Not much.’
‘None at all, nothing was lost.’
‘OK, no time was lost, but Stoval went into the brush that direction. We need to find him.’
‘Let me finish,’ the chief said. ‘They had the conservation warden chained to the iron hoop. You saw he was badly injured and when you went to rescue him they tried to shoot you.’
‘Trocca fired twice at me.’
‘You could not protect Chole and escape without locking them up first, so you locked up General Trocca and Mr Stoval escaped.’
‘He killed Trocca with a knife before running into the brush.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘My guess is he wanted to draw the hyenas so he could escape. I’m going to go look for him.’
‘That’s crazy.’
‘Bring your guns and come with me.’ Marquez pointed at the iron hoops. ‘There are other bones there. You’ll need to search the site. Chole wouldn’t have been the first.’
The chief refused to go but sent his two officers and Marquez led the way through the trees. He moved toward the sounds. They were feeding. No question about that and the officers shot two of the hyenas before they moved away. One of the hyena dragged what was left of Stoval. It was awful to look at and an officer shot that hyena and another pulled Stoval’s remains back into the brush. They were that hungry. Marquez looked at bloodstained shreds of Stoval’s jacket and pointed at the fence.
‘He must have fallen,’ he said, but neither officer was listening. Both shot into the trees and brush at targets they couldn’t see. They backed up the trail taking more random shots and Marquez turned and walked back to the gate alone.
They drove back to the main house and picked up Verandas who looked very happy. An officer searched him to make certain he hadn’t taken anything and Verandas protested as he held his arms out wide, but he nodded to Marquez. He’d gotten it all. They rode back in the chief’s vehicle and nobody had much to say on the road back to Bariloche.