Globusz^® Publishing 

he wind had risen during the night and was now playing with the stable doors which banged and rattled. The day had dawned with two or three clouds in an otherwise blue sky and after the usual bread and water, brought by a surly looking woman, they were ushered outside. The ex-army truck had gone and in its place now stood the oldest, most dilapidated and decrepit lorry that Peter had ever seen. More frightening it seamed, the guards had also been replaced. There were still four of them, but these four were a rougher version of the previous group, if that was at all possible. All were dressed in jungle green fatigues, with green webbing draped over them and green forage caps. They wore boots, good boots laced half way up the calf, and each was armed with holsters and pistols. Two of the guerrillas, for that is what they appeared to be, carried a machine pistol across their chests, whilst a third carried a long rifle but the fourth carried only a cane. Peter looked them over with some trepidation; obviously the one to fear was the one with the cane. The others would only kill you if you stepped out of line. The tailgate of the lorry was down but before they were invited to climb on to the back, it first had to be loaded. Several long bundles of vine type palms were first laid down each side of the flat bed and formed comfortable springy seats. Peter even managed to persuade them to put one bundle along the front of the flat bed.

“Peter! What do you think they want all this for? Surely it’s not to make the ride easier for us.”

“No!” He said with a slight sniff, “that is definitely not what it’s for. I don’t think they are trying to make life easier, not for us. Perhaps it is some form of local building material; it looks much too tough to eat.”

“Seņor Peter. Eat is rattan Seņor,” said the old man who had heard their conversation. “Use it for tying, making things.”

The morning passed uneventfully, the breeze dying out as day progressed. The other traffic on the road was few and far between but consisted mainly of beat up half trucks with the odd donkey and cart, whilst an occasional ‘four wheel drive’ overtook them. They passed some farm buildings, one or two hamlets and through another village while from time to time the road criss-crossed steel bridges over the Rio Milagro. It was a tiring journey, slow and laborious all the time climbing up the valley alongside the river which became smaller and smaller the higher they went. They had a stop every couple of hours or so for water and toilet until at about noon they repeated the previous day’s routine for lunch. Again it was cold sausage bread and water it appeared that this was to be the staple diet for the prisoners. Peter was beginning to have hallucinating thoughts about fruit and vegetables, anything with some vitamin ‘C’ in it.

It was whilst they were having their ‘picnic’, as Helen liked to call it, that they heard the sound of motorbikes. A moment later three high powered scramble bikes went past them up the valley. The riders, all soldiers, enjoying themselves by going much too fast for the road conditions and standing up as the machines bounced over the potholes.

The prisoners had taken up similar positions on the flat bed as they had occupied previously. Peter and Helen, again travelling with their backs to the cab as the lorry climbed into the mountains with the steeper side of the valley on their right. This escarpment was covered most of the time in dense rain forest whilst here and there would be occasional outcrops of grey rock. Sometimes the steep face of a cliff, with sparse vegetation, showed through the forest canopy. They appeared to have been travelling along the base of this escarpment most of the way from Sao Agusta. One cliff face which must have been about a thousand feet high had a thin white cloud of mist at the very top. The guard nearest the tailgate raised his rifle pointing it out to the other guard. “La chimenea el humo,” he said. Helen turned to look at where he was pointing. ‘It looks almost like a volcano,’ she thought. ‘I wonder what causes that cloud to form like that.’ She watched it for some time as they slowly wound their way past.

Later in the afternoon the sky gradually became overcast with only one or two patches of blue sky, eventually becoming dark and threatening. Then the afternoon rain came. It started sparsely with great big raindrops but quickly increased. Peter grabbed the canvas which had been transferred along with the boxes from the truck and began to cover Helen and him self but the guards were having none of it and took it off him to cover them selves. Peter smiled ruefully. “Well it was just a thought; come to think of it I was beginning to feel a bit sticky. I could probably do with the shower.”

“Yes!” she said with a mischievous grin. “I think we had all noticed, that’s why the guard took the canvas, they were just too polite to mention it.”

Peter rolled his head back and laughed, opening his mouth, drinking in the rain. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, washing the grime of yesterdays travel off him. ’God! There’s nothing wrong with this woman. She’s managing to keep her spirits up even in a situation like this. And if she can do that, then so must I.’ He looked at her as she flicked the wet hair off her face and then held her head up with open mouth, to catch some rain too. “You look like a drowned rat gasping for air,” he commented. “What happened to that beautiful smart lady that David and I took out to dinner last week?” As he was speaking, he regretted it, but couldn’t pull it back. Here he was reminding her of David and bringing the hurt back to her eyes.

“Well!” She paused, thinking of that moment and of David. ‘Was it really only a week ago? What’s the smart answer?’... “She’s still here Peter, she’s still here... But in disguise! Didn’t you say I wasn’t to draw attention to myself?”

He smiled, just the opening he had wanted. “Yes! I did indeed. But you‘d no need to do such a good job of the disguise!” There was a silent pause whilst she digested his words. Frowned, then suddenly saw the back handed compliment, the smile lit up her whole face and brought the sparkle back into her eyes.

The rain soon abated and the sun came out, the steam started rising off their clothes. It didn’t dry them off because they immediately started perspiring in the extra humidity, but they were cooled a little from the breeze made by their passage. The lorry had been slowly climbing all day, as had the previous one whilst they had been travelling up this valley during the last two days and now they were well into the mountains. The air was much fresher and it began to get cooler as they reached a large open area in the higher reaches of the valley. Tall stands of grass and bamboo were growing where the water had collected and it was at the edge of this swamp that they stopped. “Bajarse de camion! Todo el mundo. Out!” Shouted the guard as the one armed with his rifle jumped down.

Peter scrambled to his feet. “I think we had better take our packs as well.” He said whilst picking up his own. “It seems we are near the end of the line.” Then jumping down he helped Helen down beside him. The guard ushered them round to the side of the truck and they had their first look at what lay ahead. In front of them the road continued for another hundred yards before branching off to the left and starting a steep climb through sparse vegetation, rocks and boulders. The road doubled back on itself again and again in a series of hairpin bends. Peter’s eyes followed it upwards for maybe a thousand feet of otherwise bare cliff face. There at the very top perched above a sheer cliff of several hundred feet he could just make out parts of a building. The whole of the mountain, the cliff face and zigzag road was bereft of significant vegetation.

The truck had stopped next to a large pile of cut bamboo. It appeared to be another job for them as they were required to load the bamboo onto the lorry. This was easier said than done as they were still handcuffed in pairs and the big prisoner had difficulty walking. He still had leg irons on, but was made to climb back on the truck and help from there where it was piled on top of the rattan. Once this was done there was little room left for the passengers on the back.

* * *

Near Sao Agusta the bar tender greeted the commandant of the jail as he sat on a stool at the bar. ‘Mario’ was easily distinguished from the rest of the clientele in the bar by his uniform which he hadn’t yet removed after the days toil. “What do you have to be so glum about my friend?” Continued the bar man pouring the obligatory beer in to a slightly soiled glass.

“Because I have been in jail all day, why else do you think Jorge?”

“Ah! But you ought to be thankful that they let you out every night and that you can come here for a beer before going home to your lovely wife.” Replied the effervescent Jorge, wiping the bar top for the thousandth time that day.

As he spoke an old man shuffled in from the street. Peering into the gloom he looked around before slowly making his way to the bar. With apparent great difficulty he hauled him self onto a bar stool next to the jailer before ordering a beer. The jailer and the old man were an ill matched couple, but they made pleasant conversation as the level of beer in each glass sank. The old man perched precariously on his stool occasionally brushed back a few strands of grey hair that fell forward over his eyes. Some how the discussion got around to strangers and how people just meet in a bar before the old man moved the conversation on to talk about foreigners. When the glasses were almost empty the old man ordered two more beers to the tune of a very weak protest from his new friend.

Seņor Mario Trujillo was still troubled about his newly departed charges. The simple fact that he had done nothing about their unjust treatment was adding to his general depression. Now here was a sympathetic listener, a friend he could talk to and a chance to unburden him self to some one. It wasn’t long before the stranger knew all about the foreign couple who had not murdered their friend and husband. “Indefinitely, that was their sentence, what does that mean?” He said, “indefinitely, and she was such a lovely lady. I’m sure they didn’t do anything wrong.”

* * *

Peter looked at Helen who was now gazing at the zigzag road and the mountain face ahead of them as they were pushed to the front, ahead of the truck.

“Oh! My God,” she said. “You don’t think we are expected to climb up that road do you? Not after sitting cramped in that lorry for two days. I can hardly walk, let alone climb a damn mountain.”

“Yes! That’s it, you have it in one, and even the guards are walking so I don’t think they will let you hitch a ride. And don’t think of putting your pack back on the truck, you probably wouldn’t see it again. I think, even that old lorry, will beat us to the top.”

With this guess, he was however wrong. The guard armed with the rifle rode the truck and it stayed behind them all the way. They were lined up, man and woman, still handcuffed right hand to right hand. Peter and Helen were in front, then husband and wife and then the other couple. Last one was the big guy. He was now handcuffed with his hands behind his back, but his leg chains were removed. The guard jumped back in alarm when removing them, as the guy stamped his feet and bent his knees in an attempt to loosen up. The other guard climbed back on the truck, sitting on the pile of bamboo and resting his rifle on the cab roof before shouting in Wild West fashion. “Forward! Adelante!” They all started walking.

Peter and Helen moved off at a slow pace, the rest following behind with the two walking guards at the side of the column. Everyone was still trying to get the circulation going in their legs when without looking back they came to the branch in the road and kept on walking taking the route up the hill. “Peter, what do you think they want all that bamboo and rattan for?”

“Building materials, making things, bamboo has a lot of strength along its length. You can make furniture and all sorts of stuff out of it, and it’s fairly light. Although it didn’t appear to be light when loading that truck... Perhaps it needs drying first.”

“This is warm work, even though it’s a bit cooler now... Just as well we didn’t put our jackets on for climbing this mountain.”

“It’s going to be more than warm Helen, we’ll be exhausted by the time we get to the top... Remember we have been climbing up the valley in that truck and lorry for two days now... We must be at five or six thousand feet already... It will be seven, maybe more by the time we get up there... We are going to be seriously short of oxygen by then... I wonder why someone went to all this trouble to build a prison way up there.”

“That’s obvious isn’t it? ... What better way to punish... to punish the prisoners... I suppose it used to be a... a monastery... I’m getting short of breath... already.”

“Save it Helen... Don’t speak... just walk... keep your mouth open – and breathe deeply.”

They reached the second hairpin bend and as they started the next stretch they could see that everyone was already strung out. Peter noticed the big guy and the husband and wife were having trouble. They were only just in front of the truck. “Let’s not wait... for the others... we’ll see how far the guards... will let us get in front... Maybe to the top... I’m glad we’ve got boots.”

Peter and Helen carried on at a steady slow pace, trying not to stop, stringing out the column as much as they could. It was as they rounded the third bend and the truck was turning the second bend below them. Peter looking back heard the armed guard who was standing on the bamboo waving his arms, calling for them to stop and wait for the others. It was at that very moment the big guy made his bid for freedom, crouching down immediately in front of the truck he then laid flat between the wheels. The truck continued coming up the hill. The driver hadn’t noticed him disappear and all the guards were looking up at them.

“I need... to stop... anyhow,” Helen gasped.

Peter quickly walked over to other side of the road pulling Helen along with him before sitting down. “Let’s sit down here... out of their sight... The big guy is making a run for it... I want to help him... Make the guards worry a bit about us... See what they do if they think they've lost us.”

Helen looked at him sharply. “How do you mean... making a run for it... trying to escape?”

“I suppose so, I don’t know, but I just saw him duck down... He let the truck go over him... So we’ll just stay out of sight here and let them concentrate on us.

“How about lying down... behind those rocks... over there.” Helen suggested.

“No! That would be hiding. It would provoke them too much... And they may think we are in collusion... But if we sit on the road with our backs against these rocks... they will be almost at the bend before they see us... I just want to tweak their tail a little, not declare war... Not yet!” They turned and looked at each other then grinned like conspirators. ‘Now what is going to happen, how is he going to get out of this?’ he wondered. ‘That guy is going to have some trouble when they catch him. He could play hide and seek with the guards for a few minutes or so. Maybe even until it gets dark. But if he manages that and has all night, he still wouldn’t get far... Still it’s keeping Helen’s mind off David.’ It was very tempting to stand up and take a peak, just to see what was happening. But that may allow the guards to relax and give the game away.

He was however wrong about Helen, she was thinking about David and escape. ‘How will we escape? There’s plenty of hiding places amongst the rocks and in the forest but to get back to civilisation. It must be a hundred miles or so down that valley, and only one road. That poor guy has handcuffs on too. We’d never do it in one night even if we pinched the truck... But those scramble bikes! David would have loved to pinch one of those. Can Peter ride a motorbike? Probably! He can do most things; I wonder where those bikes went to.’

They could hear the truck getting closer, grinding away in the lowest gear. Still, as far as they could tell, the alarm hadn’t been raised. The first they saw of the column was the head of the armed guard. He was standing on the roof of the cab, with the rifle across his chest whilst his head turned this way and that, eyes scanning the slope ahead. Peter was watching him carefully and saw the guard visibly relax when he first caught sight of them sitting down in front of the rocks. Careful not to smile or show any sign of emotion, the pair of them just sat there waiting as the other prisoners came into view. It appeared to be a good time to have a rest and all the others collapsed near them, the truck stopped and the driver switched off his engine.

Helen looked up at the guard on the back of the truck. “Could we have a drink of water do you think?” she asked. He nodded in the affirmative and gestured to the back of the truck, still without saying a word. ‘He must be the brother of the one who escorted them yesterday,’ she thought, bouncing up and pulling Peter with her. In attempting to keep the guards eyes on them she dragged him towards the rear of the truck. Peter stopped her, pulling her to one side he whispered. “Slow down, we don’t want them to think we know anything. You're attracting too much attention.”

“I’m thirsty.” She said loudly whilst surreptitiously watching the guard perched on the pile of bamboo. It was however one of the other guards who first noticed that they were one prisoner short and raised the alarm. This was followed by a torrent of Spanish from the guard with the cane. He reached to his hip undoing the holster flap. Peter raised a hand and turned Helens face towards him. “Don’t let the guard see that triumphant look on your face. Look puzzled, we don’t know anything about it. We can’t help that guy any more.”

The armed guard jumped down off the truck and immediately moved off up the hill towards the next bend. ‘To get above but behind the guy who escaped.’ Peter thought.

The older couple, husband and wife were sent up the hill after him whilst the driver, with his cane, remained by the truck the other two guards ushered Peter, Helen and the other couple back down the hill. ‘Are they really expecting us to look for him as well? What am I going to do if I see him... this could be a disaster?’ She began to get worried, started to slow down and pulled Peter back. The other couple also held back and once again they became strung out on the road.

Suddenly there was the report of a rifle shot from above, one, single, sharp, report. They looked up to where the report had come from but couldn’t see the guard. The two guards in front however reached the bend and walking to the outer edge where they were able to see him and receive directions. The escaped prisoner was lying behind a rock. He had travelled no more than ten meters from the road, just ten meters to freedom. He must have been a bit of a contortionist as now his hands were in front, still handcuffed but in front of him. He was lying on his right side and was quite dead, a single small hole above his left ear, a pool of blood on the rocks under his head.

Helen choked on seeing him. “Murder, Peter this is murder, he didn’t stand a chance.”

“Yes! It is, but it is also a lesson... for us.”

The guard in charge didn’t bother to check if he was dead but bent down and undid the handcuffs. Then gesturing to the four prisoners to grab an arm or leg each, they lifted him. They were still handcuffed and it was with great difficulty, they managed it. Slipping and sliding on the loose stones whilst delicately avoiding the bloodied ones, they carried and half dragged him to the roadside. There was no way they could carry him up to the truck, the guard had to wave to the driver to bring it back down to them. The truck reversed slowly down the road, the driver careful not to get too close to the edge. Helen was feeling decidedly uneasy whilst carrying the body and when part of the right side of his head fell away as they were lifting the body onto the truck she could control her self no longer. Her stomach gave a heave and unable to contain her retching moved away dragging Peter with her to the side of the road. Even the guard on the road was gagging as they laid the body on top of the bamboo.

Once again they started the walk up the road, Helen and Peter, followed by the other two prisoners, the two guards and the truck grinding away in bottom gear. ‘It felt rather like a funeral cortege, though the hearse should be in front,’ thought Peter. Not a word was spoken until they reached the guard armed with the rifle. He climbed to his feet as they approached. Walked toward the truck and reached in over the side. Lifting the body's head with a hand full of hair he examined the wound with satisfaction before dropped it. 

A couple more minutes and they were ready to start again, this time another guard climbed on to the truck and the one with the rifle took up position at the front of the column. Obviously he didn’t want them dashing off ahead again, but didn’t wish to lose face by telling them. The column continued their march but after a couple of bends the older of the two women was in difficulties. Her husband showing great concern as the column came to halt yet again.

Peter turned to Helen. “She’s never going to make it to the top, I’m sure the truck wouldn’t notice the extra with her sitting on the tailgate.” Others had realised this too and her husband tried to reason with the guard. “No! Definitely not, prisoners are not allowed to be transported up the hill. Orders! All prisoners must walk up the hill.” This was all he could say as he repeated again and again.

Peter pulled Helen over towards them. “Un momento!” Then taking the woman by the hand he led her to the side of the truck and placed her left hand on the top of the truck side, with her husband supporting her right handcuffed side. Looking at the guard he asked. ”Okay?”

The guards looked at each other, the one with the cane nodded. “Okay!” he said grudgingly, before adding in rapid Spanish, telling her she must let go of the truck as soon as they were in sight of the prison. They started again, slowly walking up the road, all the time climbing. The afternoon shadows became longer and longer and the air temperature dropped further. The second woman prisoner, now also distressed, had moved alongside the truck for a helping lift. Helen was gasping for each breath, determined to do it on her own, though Peter helped where he could and was carrying both their back packs. For her it had become a match of wills, she would not give up, not whilst the others, especially the guard carrying the rifle, kept on going. They were about three quarters of the way up the mountain when they came to yet another hairpin bend which would put the setting sun at their backs. The driver called a halt and immediately turned off his engine. Without taking another step they collapsed onto the road. Quietness descended, except for the gasping breaths of the climbers and the hissing and clicking from the hot engine.

Peter laid still, his head on one of the back packs and gazed up at the prison with Helen lying beside him resting her head on his arm. He could see two walls, one of which had several windows and directly below the windows was a 300 ft sheer drop to some rocks and then the road that they were on. This section of the road ran below the prison for some way before disappearing around a curve. ‘I can’t see another hairpin bend, maybe this is the final zig of the zigzag road,’ he thought. ‘I hope we don’t have to climb this very often, even coming down it will be bad enough... Helen’s right, I bet it used to be a monastery. Only monks would be daft enough to build anything up here. But what a prison it makes. It‘s going to be a swine to escape from but I’m not going to waste years of my life up here... despite this fantastic view. I’ll just tell them. Sorry can’t stop. I’m just passing through... No! That’s not the thing to do. Don’t tell your enemies anything. You don’t warn them. Just lull them into a false sense of security. False! Did I say false sense of security? Now how the hell are you going to get out of this one Peter? Maybe there is something on the other side of the prison. Wait until we can see it all before despairing.’ Helen moved her head on his arm and he looked at her. ‘Gosh! She’s asleep, talk about the sleep of the innocent. I bet she’s exhausted and we still haven’t finished the climb.’

Helen wasn’t really asleep just dozing when a waft of breeze came bringing a sudden chill and causing her to shiver. Her eyes opened to see Peter looking at her, a worried frown on his face and she smiled. “Don’t worry so Peter, something will come along or you’ll think of a way out. Perhaps the commandant of the prison at Sao Agusta has changed his mind and will get word to the embassy.”

He didn’t reply but lay there thinking as a slight swirl of the breeze picked up a cotton bud from the side of the road and carried it upwards towards the prison above. He watched it slowly getting smaller and smaller as it rose on the breeze, lost from site long before it reached the prison windows. “Never mind that, don’t bank on the embassy. Helen listen! We’ll never get far trying to escape if we lose our boots. We need them. So as soon as you can, hide them. I don’t know how, but hide them – temporarily. We’ll try and think of somewhere more permanent later. Oh! Yes, dusty up your trainers, as if you’ve climbed the hill in them and try not to let your stuff get pinched.”

“That may be easier said than done, I won’t be able to walk around with my pack all the time.”

“No you won’t, in fact I think they will confiscated very soon. Another thing, if anyone tries to bully you react immediately. If they think you're a soft touch they’ll come again and again. You may get roughed up at first but if they think it will cost them some pain then they’ll go elsewhere.”

“Oh!” But before she could reply further the guard called them to get up, the march was about to continue. The guard with the rifle climbed onto the truck again, sitting on the pile of bamboo. Then with one guard leading and the other one in trail the column started moving. The other two women continued walking beside the truck as they passed below the prison, everyone on their last gasp as the dying sun, just a red ball, threw long shadows ahead of them. At long last they rounded the curve into yet deeper shadow and the track began to level out. A guard at the rear ushered those by the side of the truck forward as the column rounded the last bend and the gates came into view. The barking of dogs greeted the column as they caught the scent of the new arrivals and woke up the whole prison. New prisoners had arrived at the prison ‘el churro’. Everything was now in shadow save for a solitary bulb in the court yard and some lighted windows in the building on their right, which emphasised the darkness elsewhere.

* * *

The lorry stopped in the centre of a wire enclosed compound. The guard on the back unceremoniously pushed the body of the prisoner off the tailgate with his foot where it landed with a thud on the dusty earth before he jumped down to land beside it. After some discussion with one of the resident guards, they were lined up and all the handcuffs removed only to be left standing waiting. After half an hour the older woman sat down. The guard watching over them said nothing. Shortly, the rest of the group followed her example and sat down on the dusty ground. Still they waited. Even the dogs got tired of barking at the newcomers whilst they sat and waited. No one came and another hour went by. The sun had long since set and even the afterglow had disappeared; it was full night before they were at last told to stand.

They were separated. Helen and the other two women ushered away through a gate in a wire fence to a single story building. A door was unlocked and they were pushed inside before the door closed with a thud behind them followed by the sound of the lock going home. Helen looked round the gloomy dark shadowed space, a little light filtered in through three windows on her left and as her eyes grew accustomed to the extra blackness, she discovered they were at one end of a long dormitory. She could just make out six double bunks each side projecting into the middle where a single table stood. Some of the bunks were occupied. Looking at the other two she shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose we had better find ourselves a bed.” Picking up her back pack she walked down the aisle, trying to tread quietly with her boots on the bare boards. ‘What’s it to be, top or bottom... Top I think, if any are free,’ she thought. There was only one top bunk free, the second from the end on the left. Claiming it by tossing her pack on to it, she climbed up, lay back and relaxed. Helen looked about her in the gloom as the older woman who had travelled with them claimed the bunk beneath her and the other woman, after searching all the top bunks, claimed a lower one on the opposite side. Turning her head she saw the last pair of bunks with a woman laying on the top one watching her, as their eyes connected the woman raised a hand in greeting. Helen returned the greeting with a nod, which was answered with a smile from the other woman before she looked down at the older woman in the lower bunk. In the middle of the end wall Helen could make out a door, directly opposite the one they had come in by. Looking at her new ‘friend’ she nodded towards the door and raised a hand. This was answered by the woman simulating washing her hands before gesturing open handed towards the door.

‘Obviously the wash-room and we can use it if we want to. I need the toilet anyhow, perhaps a drink of water too; I hope the water is drinkable. Maybe I can find a place to hide my boots, that’s the number one priority.’ With these thoughts she swung her legs of the bed climbed down and went to investigate. The wash-room comprised four toilets on the left and on the right there were four large kitchen sinks each with a single tap. It all looked pleasantly clean with only a mild smell from the toilets. Unlike the dormitory the floor was solid and had once been tiled. The whole room was lit by a single window through which she could see the lighter sky lit by the stars. She used the toilet and washed her hands and face, taking her time and trying a small sip of the water. From what she could see it was clean and more importantly it tasted okay. She had a lookout of the window but could see nothing, just a void. The window was small and had a top sash which was open and two fixed lower panes. The top sash was obviously much too small to climb through. Helen returned but before climbing into her bunk she whispered to the other woman. “The water... is it okay to drink?”

“Si! Water is good, drink okay.”

“Thanks! Everyone is very quiet, are we not supposed to talk or something.”

“People tired, nervous. Is late! Talking is Okay... but not too loud.”

She nodded her thanks and climbed up to her bunk and removed her boots before placing them under her pack which was now her pillow. Physically tired but mentally active, it was still early in the evening, as she lay back determined not to go to sleep. ‘Now what was it Peter had said, THINK? Keep your pecker up, chin down, look beaten but don’t stop thinking. Hide my boots look after my stuff and don’t let the others put on you. Great! But Peter! You didn’t tell me how! ... Come on! You’re an intelligent adult woman, a good wife... was! A damn good secretary... was! This is not beyond my intelligence. Where can I hide a pair of boots? Under the mattress... too obvious and visible on the top bunk. In the mattress... too thin. Under the sink, wash-basin... bound to be seen when they clean up. In the toilet cistern – too wet. They’ll take them off me tomorrow; they won’t want to leave me with a good pair of boots to escape in and to walk over the mountains with. I may as well throw them out the window. The window! Toss them onto the roof above the window. They’ll fall off... tie them to the sash first... No! But tie them to the sash and let them dangle. That’s it! Yes that may work. Undo the laces and tie them together at one end and to the window sash at the other then only the lace will show and that will be behind the centre frame of the window. Damn! They’ll be seen from outside. Maybe! There is that big drop to the road below. Not brilliant... but! ... When? ... Wait for them all to go to sleep.’ She turned on her side and looked about the room; it was very quiet, just a few whispered conversations and why was everyone so tired? Did they have to get up early? What a bind. Pity! They’ll be able to see my boots from the road below. Now, will anyone go down the road tomorrow? May be, don’t know. Can I disguise them... wrap them in something? The walls are grey - ish and I have that grey ‘Tee’ shirt. That will have to do.’

With that decision made Helen rolled on to her back and relaxed. A few minutes later her eyes blinked then for a moment closed. She shook her head. ‘Don’t go to sleep, not yet.’ She rubbed her eyes and sat up, none of the women seemed to be paying her any attention, one or two were already breathing heavily She fished in her back pack, found her grey ‘Tee’ shirt and slipped it on, then turning over she removed her laces, tied them securely together and to the boots before wrapping a towel around them. Putting on her sneakers she went to the wash-room. It took only a moment to undo the bundle and wrap the ‘Tee’ shirt round them. Climbing onto one of the wash-basins she tied the free end of the laces to the sash handle.

The wash-room door opened. Helen turned in alarm as the woman from the next bunk came in. She put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh! Close the door.” Then as the woman came to the window Helen checked everything was secure before pushing the bundle out of the window.

“What are you doing?” The woman asked in Spanish, with alarm in her voice. “You can’t escape through there; it’s a big drop outside that window.

Helen jumped down off the wash-basin. “It’s Okay, I’m not escaping, just hiding my boots, I don’t want to lose them to the guards. They’ll have to stay there until I can find a better place for them. I’m Helen by the way, what’s your name?”

“Everyone calls me Gina.”

“Okay! Gina it is, don’t say anything about my boots will you?”

“Boots! What boots? I haven’t seen any boots.” she replied with a grin.

Helen looked at the window, reached through the sash and adjusted the laces then stepped back. “Great! You can’t see a thing.”

“You can’t see anything.” Gina said. “I hope nobody wants to close the window though. But they may be visible from the road you know.”

“Yes I know, but unless you can think of a better place to hide them then they will have to stay there for tonight.” 

* * *

After seeing Helen pushed through the door into one building, Peter and the two men were taken to the two story building opposite, at the end of the building a flight of stone steps led up to a door for the second story. They were ushered up the steps and in through the door which was then slammed shut behind them and locked.

Peter found him self in a long room which, though he didn’t know it, was furnished in the same manner as the one Helen was in. He also fancied a top bunk but walking down the middle couldn’t find one empty and settled for a lower bunk at the far end. He staked his claim and dropped his back pack on to it before continuing through the door at the foot of his bunk and into the wash-room. There was again a similarity to the women’s wash-room. Four smelly toilets on the right this time and opposite four wash sinks with a single tap each. The room was very spacious, lit by a single window facing out across the end of the access road. When he looked back to the left he could just see the double story building of the guard’s quarters in silhouette against the stars with some lit windows. Using first the toilet then the wash sink he looked around for a hiding place for his boots. There was nothing, just dark corners but in daylight hiding anything bigger than a pencil would have been difficult. Back to his bunk he lay down and looked around. The bunks were made out of bamboo frames with wooden... No! Bamboo slats. By the side of each bunk was an open fronted box, obviously the place to stow personal items and spare clothes. Occasionally the space between the bunks also had a rickety looking bamboo chair. The mattress was just a thinly filled canvas bag of straw. Above him he could see the mattress bulging through the gaps between the slats. Looking to his left he could see that all the bunks were placed against the wall, on the right side of his was a two foot gap then the wash-room wall. On the whole it looked regimented but untidy and none too clean. He took his boots off and arranged them under his back pack which he was using as a pillow. ‘Well! I wasn’t expecting this, I thought it would be cells and iron bars. This looks more like a prisoner of war camp. It’s all wood and bamboo, the floor is just boards, I wonder if any are loose. I may be able to find one... not tonight though, so what about my boots, where to hide them?’

He decided it was time to explore, so getting his trainers from his back pack and putting them on he slowly walked the length of the room. There wasn’t much more to see, three small windows down each side. The windows on the left offered views of the main gate and the guard’s building, whilst the ones on the right looked over an open space. A wire fence divided this space down the middle the other side of which appeared to be bounded by the women’s quarters. On the way back Peter looked at every man lying in their bed, hoping for some acknowledgement that he could answer. No one looked up and no one answered his gaze, there were however a few snores so some probably they didn’t realise that he was about. ‘They’re all beaten, they’ve been broken. This is going to be a difficult business. I must be able to find some help, someone to confide in. How can I hope to make a successful escape without some assistance? One thing at a time. Boots! Never mind escaping just at the moment, what do I do with my boots?’ He lay down on his bunk and wished for salvation. ‘Okay! There doesn’t seem to be an easy answer, but what makes it so difficult? Can I exploit any weakness does that make it less difficult? ... It’s not too clean... It’s untidy, all the bunks neatly aligned though, all against the walls.’ He looked at the adjacent pair. ‘Ah! Fixed to the floor with a metal bracket, it’s like a military place, the army! I bet this place was an army barracks. What is the commandant like now? Inspections that’s control, look along the back of the bunks, underneath, not everyone’s bunk, too much bending, then a walk down the aisle and check each is neat and tidy. So how does that help? ... Out of sight out of mind! But where out of site? The frames of the bunks were made out of large pieces of bamboo, so if I put the leg through the laths sole upper most. No! They would hang down too much.’ He reached under his ‘pillow’ and played around with the boot. He flattened the leg part and turned it back, then lifting the mattress, pushed it through the laths and tied it with the laces, he did the same with the other one, the soles and heels were a little bit prominent but lay the mattress over the top, a slight rearrangement of the straw and it looked Okay. ‘Check underneath and I can’t see them, unless you put your head on the floor. Great! That will have to do for tonight. Must find a better place soon though. Now – I should get some sleep.’