With an expression of disbelief and shock, Mateo looked down at his severed flesh, fell to his knees, and howled. He pressed a hand against the wound.
Tobias tried to free himself and cried out in pain when his shoulder strained again. “You call that mercy?”
“Let him go,” the enforcer said.
Despite his injured shoulder, Tobias managed to remove his shirt while rushing over to Mateo’s side. Mateo’s hand was already covered with blood. Tobias hadn’t realized an ear could bleed so much.
“Mateo, let go of your ear. I’m going to apply pressure with my shirt.”
“I need the gold to buy my wife’s opium. She’s very sick… I’m not a bad man.”
“Bless you, Mateo. You don’t deserve this.” Tobias folded his shirt into a tight square and pressed it firmly against the wound.
The enforcer asked, “Is there something you’d like me to tell El Jefe?”
With resignation, Mateo looked up. “I’m sorry.” He lowered his head again.
“I’m certain your apology will be accepted. I trust this unfortunate… misunderstanding won’t happen again.”
“No, sir, it won’t.”
“Hold this in place,” Tobias told Mateo, then stood and squared off with the enforcer’s men and lowered his voice. “You tell your boss he won’t get away with mutilating people like this.”
“You are dangerously close to pissing me off,” said the enforcer. “Perhaps you’d like to experience the tin snips yourself.”
Tobias squinted, knowing the threat had teeth. As much as he wanted to lash out, he knew it wouldn’t do any good, and he certainly didn’t want half his ear cut off. “You will answer to God for this.” Tobias returned to Mateo’s side and turned the makeshift bandage over.
“Is that so? Then where is your God? Where? Your ignorant beliefs are poisoning the town.”
“It is you who are poisoning the town,” Tobias yelled. “You supply the miners with mercury, but you don’t teach them how to handle it safely. Mateo’s wife has severe mercury poisoning from working the mills all day. The rivers and streams in this area have fifty times the safe limit. Mateo’s wife is nearly deaf from the crushing drums. Rubber gloves and ear protection are cheap, but your greedy boss doesn’t supply them. The mill workers are exposed to mercury vapor all day long. Your boss’s mining operation is slowly killing everyone in Santavilla. You—”
“Enough! I will not debate this with you. El Jefe gives these people work and protects them. You give them nothing.”
“I give them hope, something you’ll never have.”
The enforcer narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s not a threat,” said Tobias. “Their faith gives them hope, even through savage injustices like this.”
The leader waved a hand. “Need I remind you that El Jefe has shown mercy tonight? Things could’ve been much worse. This discussion is over.” The enforcer raised the bullhorn. “Hoarding gold will not be tolerated. I trust everyone understands the consequences now.”
Tobias told Mateo to keep pressure on his ear and approached the enforcer again. Two mercenaries crossed their rifles, blocking his path.
“I know what Macanas is doing,” Tobias whispered.
The enforcer reached for his sidearm but stopped. A twisted smile formed. “Be careful, old man.”
Then, as quickly as they’d arrived, the gunmen turned, piled into their trucks, and drove slowly out of town.
Mateo told his wife to go back inside the house.
Tobias averted his eyes while she limped through the door. Clearly, Mateo had been ratted out. There was no way Macanas could’ve known about Mateo’s secret gold stash otherwise. Tobias inwardly flinched at the thought of a snitch living among them. Someone had betrayed Mateo, and he intended to find out who it was. He had his suspicions, but being a man of God and having no proof, he needed to temper his desire to judge.
“Run to my home,” he told Antonia. “Get the hydrogen peroxide solution. It’s in the small cabinet above the sink. Grab the first-aid kit too. Here, take my flashlight.”
Antonia took the flashlight but didn’t leave until Mateo said it was okay.
Tobias helped Mateo get to his feet. “I’ll stay with you until we get your bleeding under control. The hydrogen peroxide is going to sting, but it should help to prevent an infection.”
“Thank you, pastor. You’re a kind man.”
“If only kindness could protect us. Things are only getting worse here. I’m going to ask for help.”
Mateo looked up at him, wide-eyed. “We can’t go to the police. No one else cares about us. Who is going to help?”
Tobias looked toward the receding pickups. “Someone I should’ve asked long ago.”
CHAPTER 2
El Jefe’s enforcer lived a double life. The residents of Santavilla knew him only by his nickname, Franco, short for el francotirador: the sniper. Last night, he’d been the white-shirted man with the bullhorn — Macanas’s enforcer — but none of them knew he was also Macanas’s feared hit man.
During the briefing this morning, Macanas had been furious about Franco’s report of Pastor Tobias’s defiance, but even more furious about Tobias’s parting comment. Macanas now saw Tobias as more than just a small-town troublemaker. So here Franco was, returning to Santavilla for the second time in as many days. Over the past few months, Tobias had become increasingly critical of Macanas’s mining operations. The man had actually tried to start a labor union. The audacity was laughable. A labor union? After a few outspoken miners’ houses mysteriously burned to the ground, all talk of forming a labor union had ended. The sad thing was, the townsfolk didn’t appreciate what El Jefe gave them. Without his protection, they’d be subject to constant marauding by rival criminal gangs. At least El Jefe paid a fair wage. Other mine owners were far less generous.
Franco kept himself in top physical shape, a necessity in his profession. At age forty-seven, he possessed better stamina than most men half his age. He had some gray invading, but for the most part, his hair remained black, nearly the same color as his eyes. Having never known his parents, he didn’t know which side of the equation his super dark irises came from, but he liked the hard look they gave him. At five foot seven, he stood at average height, but that was his only average trait. He spoke three languages and possessed extensive computer skills. In addition to being an expert in both surveillance and countersurveillance, he could make and disarm bombs and reload ammunition. His hand-to-hand combat skills were also finely honed.
The Range Rover hit another deep pothole, and Franco’s head nearly hit the side window. He inwardly cursed and remained silent. Walking would be preferable. And faster. Voicing his displeasure to his driver would accomplish nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a FOMAV work crew out here grading the road. The Range Rover was an exquisite vehicle, but its state-of-the-art suspension system was no match for this road’s ruined surface. He made a mental note to organize a few Saturday work crews and get the worst of these potholes filled. Two or three days ought to do it. Besides, it’s not like these people had anything better to do. When they weren’t working the mines, most of them sat around smoking marijuana, drinking moonshine, and watching the trees grow.
One kilometer shy of the town, Franco ordered the driver to stop. The two white shirts in front remained silent and didn’t turn around. Fear had an undermining effect on the soul. Both of them knew they could be in Franco’s crosshairs one day. It didn’t take a major screwup to fall out of Macanas’s favor. The boss wasn’t unfair to his men, but these two clowns already owned two strikes and needed to be on their best behavior.