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idel was annoyed, he didn’t like waiting and this was the fourth day since the destruction of the electricity pylon. It had taken only a short time to find the owner of the scooter. Then a visit to the Juangorena family had produced the name and address of his girlfriend. After that nothing, for three days they saw no sight of her. What had she seen, who had she spoken to, where could she be hiding?

His thoughts were disturbed as Pablo opened the passenger door of his car and climbed in beside him. “Well, what have you to report? Nothing just like yesterday I suppose.”

“I am sorry Seņor Gamboa but we are only observing. We cannot make things happen.”

“Then tell me Pablo and stop making excuses.”

“The same man visited them again yesterday morning and stayed for an hour then left. Her mother went shopping in the afternoon and came home with groceries. Then her father went out for ten minutes later, in the evening.”

“This man that visited them, you followed him?”

“No Seņor Gamboa we don’t have the resources to follow anyone. He was just a grey haired old man. We assumed he was a relative come to comfort them.”

“You assumed? ... Just because he is old, does not preclude him from hiding the girl. Next time follow him. Go on... What next?

Pablo was becoming very hesitant. To report failure was one thing but, to report nothing was sometimes more difficult. “Then nothing... nothing at all, until her younger sister bounced out of the house to go to school this morning. Her mother hung out some washing later. That is all.”

“Nothing! You report nothing from afternoon until the following morning. Were your men asleep? What were they doing in the house all evening?”

“We cannot say Seņor; they pull the blinds before putting on the light.”

Fidel paused and took a deep breath. ‘It was no use getting annoyed with this peasant because he had nothing to report. Still it does help relieve frustration.’ He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Go! ... And follow any visitor who looks remotely interesting.”

“Si Seņor Gamboa,” said Pablo, quickly opening the car door, only too glad to get away. He had one foot out on the road when he was halted, in mid flight as it were, by the single word. “Wait!”

“Seņor?”

“You say her sister, her younger sister bounced out of the house... To go to school... Your very words, ‘bounced out.’ Why? Why did you use such a turn of phrase?”

“I don’t know Seņor Gamboa; it was just a phrase that Jose used. He said the little girl was happy and even... smiled... at him... Why? ... Why was she happy, why smile? She was going to school and her sister is missing.” He sat back down in the seat and looked at Fidel in amazement.

“Because she knew her sister was safe and well. That is why.”

“Of course that man must be a relative; she must be staying at his house.”

“Bring the mother in, immediately... No wait, there’s no hurry. Bring them both in when the little girl comes home from school. Take them to the jail. I’ll have a word with the jail’s commandant. He will be expecting them.”

“Si Seņor Gamboa, I will go and warn the others.”

                              * * *

Fidel waited until the evening. The commandant of the jail had his orders, to put them in separate cells where they couldn’t hear each other and leave them. Fidel arrived at the jail in the evening and had the mother brought to him. “Where is your daughter, Angelica? Where is she staying?”

“But Seņor she has gone missing... My youngest, my baby, where is she?”

“At the moment your little one is safe. I am concerned about your eldest. She was involved in something. Some terrorist activity, perhaps she is innocent but we need to talk to her. Where is she?”

The term ‘at the moment’ was not lost on the woman. She also realised her youngest would soon break down and tell them where her sister was. Then for the rest of her life her youngest would blame her self for something she couldn’t help. “Angelica, she has nothing to do with terrorists... She is a good girl... She is at the convent, the orphanage, on the hill above the Rio Milagro.”

“Thank you, now that wasn’t too difficult was it.” Fidel rose and turned to the guard. “Put her back in a cell for tonight, with her child.”

* * *

Pablo and the tall soldier they called Alto arrived at the orphanage after evening prayer. They knocked hard on the large doors of the convent. There was no response. Hearing no sound they waited a moment before Pablo reached for the door again only to have it silently open before him. “Where is the girl Angelica, she arrived here yesterday, where is she. She is under arrest, wanted for questioning by la policia, bring her here now.”

The sister who had opened the door put a finger to her lips, before stepping aside, gesturing for them to come in. Once inside she indicated two chairs in the hallway before disappearing down the passage. Pablo and Alto sat and saying nothing more, they waited. Perhaps a little respect was slowly creeping into their souls. Minutes later Mother Violeta glided down the passage towards them, the other nun hovering behind her. The two men jumped to their feet, Pablo repeated his demands, this time with a much more conciliatory tone.

Once again the Mother Superior explained they had a vow of silence before adding. “She is asleep now. You may come for her again in the morning.”

Pablo was nonplussed, he hesitated. ‘Fidel won't like this, to have to wait until the morning.’ He tried again. “This is important business of the state madam; it cannot wait until the morning. We have to take the girl in for questioning now.”

Noticing his hesitation the Mother Superior, living up to her name, raising her eyebrows and said quietly but firmly and very slowly. “She will be ready in the morning after 8 o’clock. Good night seniors.”

A moment later they found themselves outside with the door firmly closed behind them. Pablo was debating how best to break the news to Fidel whilst his companion could see the indecision on his face. “Pablo if you go back and tell Fidel I will keep watch on this place in case they try and get her away.”

‘Should I? If I go to Fidel with a report of failure once again! He’ll finish me. Better if I send Alto to inform Fidel. Can I keep watch on this place on my own, all night and without the car?’ He made up his mind. “No! Alto the best thing to do is for both of us to stay and watch the place. The only way out for her is down this road. We’ll stay in the car and keep watch, then collect her in the morning.”

It was a long weary night for the two of them, no food, and no water, sitting in the car taking it in turns to try and get some sleep, taking it in turns to try and stay awake. At 8 o’clock precisely, looking rather dishevelled they presented themselves at the door of the convent once again and the same nun invited them in. A moment later Mother Violeta put in an appearance, stood in front of them before pointedly looking at her watch as Angelica appeared with the sister.

Mother Superior had the last word as they went out the door. “I trust no harm will come to her, I hold you both responsible for her well being.”

They took Angie to the jail and Fidel was informed. Pablo reported to him before Fidel summoned Angelica. He was amused when they told him about the delay, two experienced soldiers, specials as well, made to wait in the forest all night by a nun. Angie was nervous and apprehensive, but she had talked with Mother Violeta after prayers that morning and she had been given strength. She stuck to her story, saw nothing, did nothing and told no one. No! She was definitely not a terrorist. She had run away and hidden because she was afraid the gunman would come after her.

Fidel had no reason to disbelieve her and didn’t. But she may have seen something and so as a result he decided to keep her in ‘protective custody’ for a while. She should write a letter to her family and explain she would be away for some time... Yes! They could write back to her, once a month.

* * *

They met again in the same barn, this time Vittorio and his companion were already there along with Alfredo and Jorge when Tino entered. He was ‘strutting his stuff’ as it were, after being successful in his mission to extract information from the long suffering secretary of Noberto. Vittorio called him over and offered a photograph. It was one of the first ones they had taken through the telescope. “Is this your girl Tino, she looks very trim and tidy?”

Tino took the photograph as the others gathered around. “She doesn't have the udders of a cow.” Alfredo commented, trying to expand on his original joke.

“You just shut the hell up. She’s nice. I quite like her, she has lovely eyes.”

“Ah! I was mistaken; he is attracted by her cow eyes.” Alfredo commented, realising just where to put the needle. Unfortunately he didn’t realise how far in it had gone. Tino lashed out, catching him on the cheek.

Vittorio quickly jumped up between them before Alfredo, who was much bigger, could retaliate. “Stop it! Enough! ... We haven't the time or energy to squabble amongst ourselves.”

The old man arrived at that moment and stopped at the door. Just in time to see Alfredo launch him self over Vittorio trying to get at Tino. “Good morning everyone lets have no more of this squabbling... please.” The words, spoken quietly, carried enough to stamp his authority on the group and caused them to pause. “Alfredo, Tino, shake hands and stop this now, we have work to do.”

Tino realising he had the best of the deal pushed his hand out first as Vittorio sat down. Alfredo couldn’t help but take the proffered hand without looking petty. He gripped it tightly and squeezed as he shook it. Honours even they both sat down then grinned at each other as Tino massaged his hand and Alfredo rubbed his cheek.

“Right!” said the old man, sitting down. “You first Vittorio, what do you have for me?”

Vittorio took the photograph from Tino and put it with the others. Then he gave them to the old man explaining the who’s and why’s as the man looked through them. Next it was the turn of Alfredo and Jorge who was holding a notebook. “We can confirm these numbers for the motorbikes, their cars and some trucks. We also have the description of several of the specials. Unfortunately we didn’t have a camera, Vittorio took it. But Yes! Those numbers you had look genuine.

“Tino, you look as if you are bursting with information. How did you get on with the secretary, Teresa isn’t it?”

“Yes! Good. She is very upset with her boss. Noberto treats her and all the women like slaves. He doesn’t like Nancy Corbo de Lozada especially; every time they meet she gets right under his skin. That’s what Teresa said. This Seņorita Corbo, she sort of looks after the dam and electricity. And it’s not very reliable is it? Perhaps he’s telling her off, and with her being a woman too... Teresa said he’s going to visit the dam in a few days, a sort of inspection. She still has to work out the schedule for him. He has a sidekick, a sort of ‘gofer’ called Fidel. He does all the running around for him... That’s it. I’m seeing her again this evening, so I may have more to tell you tomorrow.

“Good! Great! Tino, I need to know when he will be visiting the dam. Let me know as soon as you find out. We have a picture of this Fidel guy, the second one you showed me Vittorio, I know of him. Oh! We also have a picture of Seņorita Corbo... that’s her. So all of you familiarise yourselves with those pictures and let us know if you come across them.”

“Should we follow them?” said Jorge, hopefully.

“Err! ... Yes! But be very discrete, especially with this guy Fidel... I have the distinct feeling he would cut your throat if he suspected. Vittorio, how's that hide you have, I drove past it the other day but didn’t see anything. Is it really safe?”

“Yes it’s Okay! Even if someone discovers it they’ll only think we are bird watching.”

“Right I want it manned all day and every day, get Jorge involved as well. You run that show and let me know anything interesting. And remember all of you, don’t keep notes on you for longer than you have to, use scraps of paper and above all else, be careful.”

* * *

The four men stood in a group at the lower station of the cable car; the stocky, powerfully built man was obviously the most important. Seņor Moreno Garcia the Minister of the Interior, or Norberto to his family and the few friends he allowed him self, was gazing up at the sweep of the two cables. The loop of cables ran from above their heads, at the lower station near the railhead, to a projection below the West shoulder of the mountain. A second slight man, dressed in white overalls and yellow builder’s helmet, was talking, explaining some of the technicalities about the eight hundred metre loop of the cable they were about to ascend. The other two men were listening to their ‘guide’ but at the same time, facing outward from the group. Their eyes scanned the tree line, hands never straying far from the weapons slung around their necks. Both were big men, dressed overall in extra dark army fatigues and wearing black berets, they were in stark contrast to the ‘guide’. The insignia on their shoulders proclaimed them to be ‘specials’, but they were even more special than that. They were the personal bodyguard of their master ‘The Minister of the Interior’.

The minister would have liked to go alone on this visit but that would have drawn too much attention. His bodyguard went everywhere with him, if he were to have insisted on leaving them behind, it would have been noticed. This visit was essentially an inspection and not private. He had of course, visited the dam several times before in his official capacity as the Minister of the Interior but always with people around him, advising, interfering and generally attempting to show how clever they were. Only lately had the big idea of sabotage, of damaging the actual dam and destroying this structure of beauty come to mind. Now the minister was deep in thought while he had this annoying little snowman bleating in his ear. But he had another more pressing problem. The letter he had received only that morning from the (IMAF) was a potential disaster. Their completion's consultant, whatever that was, was coming for a visit. If he talked to Seņorita Corbo, which he really should do, then all may be lost. ‘I must get rid of that woman for a while; she is a problem I don’t need at the moment.’

All four stepped aboard the cable car, making it sway slightly. Only after the guide had closed the door and the bell rung did the car begin to move. Swinging gently at first the cable car slowly gathered speed as it came clear of the station. With still increasing speed the car moved forward, closer and closer towards the rock face as if to fling itself to destruction against the black vertical wall. The eyes of the three inexperienced men were drawn to watch their impending doom when, suddenly it seemed, the car appeared to stop going forward and started to rise at an alarming rate. Sparse vegetation clinging grimly to cracks and crevices only some ten metres away rushed past vertically. Moments later each had to swallow hard to equalise the changing air pressure in their ears. As one person they turned around, so close to the rock face that the only view of interest was outwards to the increasingly distant horizon. Below there was the disappearing valley floor, with the lower station they had just left shrinking to a mere dot. To their right was another cable carrying the other descending car and beyond that the grey slab of the concrete dam. The ride had been extremely smooth throughout the climb. Thus the three inexperienced travellers jumped with alarm as the car shook and rattled when it passed over the wheels of a supporting pylon. The guide just grinned at their discomfort. All the new travellers did that. Moments later they were slowing down as the car approached the upper station and gently nudged its way into the platform.

The cable car had been built, not only to facilitate the building of the dam but also to provide for tourists after its completion. The fact that no tourists had been allowed to use it so far did not detract from the view presented from the adjacent viewing platform on which the group now stood. At this height and with the present isolation even the ‘special’ guards relaxed a little, gazing with awe over the guard-rail. The eyes naturally followed from the deep blue sky down to the horizon and then continued lower still to the lush green vegetation and pastures that rolled into the valley. The eyes continued across the river, a road and some scree to the base of the dam. Then up the sheer concrete curve to the rim and out over the water to the distant mountains in the North before completing full circle to the ever blue sky.

The dam was not yet full of water, due in part to an order from the minister him self, to open the bypass sluice when the president was in residence at his ranch. In addition the rainfall had been low for this time of year due to the El Niņo weather pattern in the Southern Pacific region. At his own special request water was even now jetting from the sluice or bypass tunnel. The tunnel that had been hewn through the solid rock of the West shoulder directly below them. Standing on the edge of the viewing platform and leaning over Seņor Moreno Garcia could see the spray from the water spout. Beyond this was the road winding up the main valley from the city and the sea some 50 to 60 miles away. The road passing below the dam continued to the East, partially hidden behind a shoulder of rock as it wound along the valley and then on up to the high snow capped mountains in the distance. To his left the whole of the dam face could plainly be seen as it stood some way back from the entrance to this side valley. A rough cut road carved out of the rock face ran from where they stood at the upper cable car station, down towards the top rim of the dam some two hundred metres away.

The group of men started to walk along this road to where a flat area contained a small building or hut with a door and one window overlooking the road. The building had been built from pieces of the rock blasted free to make the short road which sloped gently down to the very rim of the dam. Adjacent to the building a series of rough steps cut into the rock face lead up from the flat area up and out of sight over the west buttress. The Minister of the Interior stopped at the edge of the dam near the end of the rough road before the surface changed to the concrete of the dam itself.

The dam was a fine cupola or double arch dam, its rim standing about 130 metres above the narrow base. It spanned the two granite shoulders of the side valley about 290 metres apart at the top. Persons standing on the rim and looking over would find the dam curves away beneath them only to reappear much lower down, the base appearing to be almost directly below the edge of the rim. There was no road across the top of the dam, just a walkway some three metres wide. A metre high wall topped by a rail ran along either side. This walkway curved in a beautiful arc to the opposite shoulder, the symmetry of the arc broken in the middle by a small solid ‘hutch’ perched on a concrete buttress hanging over the water. The ‘hutch’ had a steel door to gain access to the inner realms of the dam

“Please leave me a few moments, I wish to think undisturbed.”

The two bodyguards, who were used to this, unceremoniously escorted the ‘guide’ to the other side of the narrow road. The two men sat on the wall of the parapet, the ‘safe’ water behind them and gazed about as they were trained to do. It was their own lives they were protecting as well as that of their Minister’s and were under no illusion that the code ‘he goes, they goes’ would be enforced. Neither noticed the still head of a man on the skyline of the east shoulder.

This man’s eyes watched intently. Occasionally he used a monocular, being careful to shade it from the sun. A potential assassin perhaps? To fire from there, nearly 800 metres away would require a sniper rifle and an excellent marksman, neither of which the owner of the eyes had.

The minister, on the other side of the road, lent over the parapet to examine the face of the dam. Below his right hand he noticed the top rung of a steel ladder, rather like a large staple set into the concrete. He lent further and saw several rungs of the ladder before it disappeared beneath him only to reappear as small dashes a long way further down the face of the dam before it transferred to the rock itself and ended near the mouth of the bypass tunnel. A shudder ran through his frame as he thought of the men building the dam and having to climb that precipice. Glancing to his left the curved face of the dam presented itself. ‘The shape is rather like a slice from the end of a giant eggshell trimmed to size and plugging the end of the valley,’ he mused. ‘It is also, size for size and weight for weight, about as strong as an eggshell. Perhaps if you hit it at just the right point it will break like an eggshell?’ He started walking slowly along the rim, towards the centre of the dam. ‘Now if the dam were to break! ... The resulting flood water would almost certainly reach the city as a large wave, perhaps even washing the gates of the presidential palace.’ He glanced again at the water in the lake. ‘It would be even better if the dam was full, or nearly so.’

The minister reached the far end of the dam only to find another similar but smaller flat area. This too had been carved out of the solid rock of the shoulder. From this, the East end of the dam, there was no road continuing round the face. It was a dead end, save for a similar series of steps carved into the rock face and leading up over the East buttress. Though he didn’t know it they lead almost directly towards the observer that could no longer see him.

He turned, and whilst in deep thought, started on his way back. ‘Who would take the blame? Is it to be bad design, poor cement, shoddy construction or perhaps the gorilleo’s trying to liberate the country? There was bound to be an investigation, an international team, you couldn’t hide the mark of explosives on that scale, or could you? But we, or rather I, could sow the seeds of doubt. Ask questions before hand in the assembly. When the dam becomes full! Will it be safe? What if?’

Unbeknown to him the minister came back into view of the eyes peering anxiously over the East shoulder. His head was bowed and he was still deep in thought. ‘The most important item on the agenda at the moment though: could it be done? Where do we get the explosive? If it were breached it would certainly destroy El Presidante’s country retreat the ranch house across the river there.’ He turned and gazed out over the edge, where the ranch house and several outbuildings could be seen, on the lower South slope. They were on the far bank, the other side of the main valley of the Rio Milagro. He turned and looked in the other direction, at the mass of water that was being held back. His thoughts returned to the dam as he continued walking. ‘But how to hit it? Where? And with what?’ he mused. ‘Only the Army and the Air Force have explosive in that quantity, of that power. The Army... Preferably not! To close to home... but the Air Force, maybe! A bomb, in the right place, it would probably need a lorry load of bombs though. To destroy a thing of such beauty would be a shame but the resulting confusion, especially if El Presidante and his minions where at his ranch when it unfortunately happened. More unfortunate still if the army chiefs where also in the vicinity, or indeed the major part of the army, on an exercise perhaps! Hmmm!’

He had arrived back at the ‘hutch’ where the two bodyguards and the guide were waiting.

“Would the Minister care to view the inside of the dam?” From the white overall; gesturing towards the steel door in the hutch.

A nod from the minister brought forth a bunch of keys from the pocket of the white overall. Moments later the door swung open on well oiled hinges. First the guide entered, followed by the minister just as several rows of neon lights flashed and blinked into existence below them. The guide began explaining. “The dam was constructed with two dam walls, the wet wall, which was only wet on the other side,” he hastened to add, “and the dry wall. They were joined by steel girders which distributed the load across the void from the wet wall to the dry wall and outwards to the shoulders of the dam. The dam was built like a sandwich where the steel girders were the jam.”

They descended a flight of stairs to a landing made of open mesh steel grid. The landing was about four metres long and two metres wide bridging the gap between both walls of the dam. Attached to both ends of the landing was a flight of flimsy looking metal stairs that disappeared into the very bowls of the dam. Looking over the end of the landing he could see numerous thick steel girders criss-crossing between the two walls.

“How far down does the void go?” Was the minister’s first question, as he peered over the edge of the steel landing.

“Just over 100 metres Minister, the very bottom of the dam is solid concrete onto the base rock. You couldn’t see the bottom from here even if there was enough light to penetrate that far. This is due to the curvature of the dam walls.”

“How many of these girders are there connecting the two walls of the dam?”

The guide was an engineer, who had long since learnt not to bullshit if he didn’t know the answer to a question. “Err! I don’t know Minister; they are spaced about two metres apart and criss-cross each other.”

“And how thick are these walls?”

“They vary throughout both the height and the width of the dam Minister. But at this point, level with where we are, each wall is about a metre thick.”

The minister raised his eyebrows, a question forming in his mind. The guide attempted to answer it before it was asked.

“You see Minister there is little water pressure here at the surface of the lake, even when the dam is completely full. But at the bottom of the dam the water pressure, if the dam were to be full, would be in the region of four hundred tons per square metre.”

“Really! As much as that... And within the dam this is the only entrance or exit to this... void?”

“Err! No, not quite Minister. The stairs to the left, lead to a bank of strain gauges on the East shoulder. But the stairs to the right lead to the corresponding bank of strain gauges for the West shoulder. A further flight of stairs then lead to a door that gives access to the bypass or overflow tunnel. If you pass that door the stairs continue to the sump at the bottom of the dam.”

“I see! And this door to the bypass tunnel?”

“It is just a steel watertight door. Beyond that there are a flight of stone steps down to the tunnel. The door has to be watertight and it has clips rather like a ships water tight door, when the bypass sluice is opened fully, water sometimes floods back up the steps to the door.”

“Thank you! Yes! I’ve seen enough.” Turning, he led the way back up into the sunshine, stepped out onto the bare concrete walkway and began to make his way back towards the cable car. ‘So, maybe it could be damaged internally, a determined man could get into the very structure, the very heart of the dam and do some damage. But what about the cost? Can the country afford it? ... But the dam isn’t ours. It doesn’t belong to our country yet but still belongs to those International Aid people. They’ll just have to come back and rebuild it. How? Why? When? How long would it take them? Two years, five, maybe even ten years, meanwhile the land in the valley beyond would belong to the Minister of the Interior.’ All these thoughts passed through his mind as, head bowed, he walked towards the cable car station. ‘The lake would disappear and the valley would be dry again. They would be able to restart the cocoa plantation and produce several seasons of coke for the norteamericanos. Much more profitable than electricity generation. ’He turned for one last look over the lake, up the half-flooded valley, seeing in his mind the rain forest and the fields of cocoa as it was before the valley flooded. ‘The real big question was. Who? Who would have the expertise? Who could blow up a dam and yet be expendable? Would this Shaun Maile, this Irish man, would he have the expertise? He would have to be removed afterwards of course.’ Without realising it he was back on the viewing platform, gazing at the dam and the valley below with some trepidation about what he had decided.

Perhaps it was a factor of him starting the return to his office. It was odd, for as soon as he stepped into the cable car his thoughts returned to ‘that woman’. He was beginning to become obsessed by the Seņorita Corbo. Then he recalled an invitation to an environmental conference in New York. He had read the invitation and discarded it. ‘Now when was it scheduled for? Sometime soon, that would be right up her street. Send her off on a jolly to New York for a week or so whilst that man from the (IMAF) was here. This completion’s manager, he shouldn’t be here for longer than a week.’ He made a mental note to check out the dates of the conference as soon as he got back to his office.

* * *

From his hiding place amongst the rocks the man watched the cable car, carrying the four men, descend to the valley below. He waited until it was a mere speck dangling from the silken strand of a spider’s web. Then he stood and walked towards the edge of the East shoulder that held the dam. ‘Now what was that all about?’ He wondered. ‘What was that name Vittorio called him? The ‘noble Noberto’ very apt! He doesn’t do anything by chance, so why waste all afternoon for a short walk along the rim of the dam and a peek inside.’ He stepped closer to the edge and focused his monocular on the upcoming cable car. No one was on board so he was going to be left alone for a short while at least. He stood still for a moment and looked about him. The first chance he’d had since arriving short of breath from his 300 metre climb, before their cable car had arrived. Stretching away to his right was the man-made lake formed by the dam, a sheet of frosted glass beneath the blue sky. To his left was the valley of the Rio Milagro. Directly in front of him, on which his gaze was firmly fixed, lay the dam. The man was gazing out over the vista, a fit man of fifty eight years and no longer out of breath. Idle thoughts rambled through his mind as the breeze fluffed his greying hair over his eyes. He flicked it back with a much-practised gesture. His was a great vantage point; from here he could plainly see the flume of water from the sluice tunnel with a cloud of white spray below it as the water fell from the chute onto the anvil. ‘El Presidante must be at home in his country retreat,’ he mused. ‘This outflow of water is so aptly named among the peasants as the presidents fountain, the sluice, always opened when he is in residence at his ranch across the valley.’ He could also see the double curvature of the dam’s structure, the almost white concrete standing out against the dark of the granite abutments. ‘It’s really a thing of great beauty that stands guard at the exit of this lake.’ He thought. The man gave a long sigh. ‘Time to start on down,’ and began to make his way over to the steps leading down to the rim of the dam. Reaching the dam he walked slowly across deep in thought. ‘What was the Minister thinking as he walked? His head was bowed, but he looked over the rim when he got near the middle. About here, what did he see? The view is no different than anywhere else, just the valley and the Presidents ranch. But the way he looked, the dam, the Presidents ranch, the water...-- Surely not! ... He couldn’t be contemplating that!’ Again and again he replayed in his mind what he had seen. ‘Am I reading too much from it? Could I really read someone's mind? ... Interpret a person’s intention by observing his, admittedly unguarded, actions. Later! I will have to think some more later. Time to get down in the valley before someone comes.’ He had plenty of time, yet now he was in a hurry, and stepped out at a brisk pace. It was going to take several hours to get into the valley and would be dark by the time he reached the road. Not for the likes of him, the use of the cable car which would have saved him a great deal of effort.

* * *

Nancy Corbo de Lozada was summoned to his office the very next day. At least she thought of it as a summons by the abrupt message her secretary had received from Teresa. ‘The Minister of the Interior wishes to see Seņorita Corbo in his office as soon as possible.’ No explanation of why or what for, which was most unusual for Teresa as she was usually much more forthcoming. Nancy smiled on receiving the massage. He was in one of his superior moods it appeared. She wasn’t in awe or frightened by him, her father had long since dissuaded her from those kinds of thoughts. This superior attitude from Noberto was a bore and becoming more and more frequent but she had somehow to work with him. She sighed and got to her feet. ‘May as well get it over with, whatever it may be.’

Walking towards his office she had to pass Teresa who was at her desk and looked up as Nancy walked pass. Teresa mouthed the term sorry and raised her thumb as a sign. Nancy nodded and returned the smile before knocking. She opened the door whilst wondering about the significance of a thumb’s up, the apology she understood. Nancy closed the door gently behind her as the minister waved her towards the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. Without preamble the minister went straight to business. “I have an invitation to an environmental conference in New York next week but unfortunately won’t be able to attend. Would you mind taking my place? I think it would suit you more, and the country really does need to be represented.”

“Certainly Minister, you must have a lot of work to do. But Seņor Garcia, the request, isn’t it for a minister to attend?”

“Well yes! But you are a sort of junior minister for energy. It will be good experience for you. I’ll have a word with la presidante, he will give the nod. Only for this conference of course.”

“But of course Minister. And thank you.”

“Err! Yes that will be all; my secretary has all the details. But no commitments mind you, no promises on behalf of this country.” 

She closed the door behind her, the whole interview had taken less than two minutes but she was determined not to allow this to detract form her pleasure. ‘Wow! What has happened to him? Representing my country, at my age. And I didn’t think Noberto even liked me.' She stopped at Teresa’s desk. “He appears in a good mood today Teresa. Your minister, he’s sending me to New York... On a jolly did you know? You have some particulars for me, about the conference?”