Chapter 2042 - 843: The Guilty Are Uneasy

Acuña stood in place, not moving.

"Mr. President, I—"

Alarcón turned around.

"Your wife and kids are still in Guayaquil, right?"

Acuña nodded.

"Then you should go back and find them."

He paused.

"Don't be like me, staying here all alone."

Acuña was silent for a few seconds.

Then he saluted, turned around, and walked away.

The door closed.

Alarcón was left alone in the office.

He looked out the window again.

The sky was getting brighter.

The Mexican armored vehicles drew closer.

In the distance, the bell of Quito Cathedral rang—not an alarm, but morning prayer.

He remembered when he was a child, every Sunday, his mother would take him to that church for mass. It was dark inside, lit only by candles. His mother knelt in front of a pew, hands clasped, murmuring something. He couldn't understand, just staring at those candles.

Now those candles had long since extinguished.

The church remained.

His mother was gone.

He turned around, walked back to his desk, and picked up the phone.

He dialed a number.

The phone rang for a long time, then connected.

"This is Favian Alarcón. I'd like to speak with Victor Reyes."

Seven o'clock in the morning, temporary forward command post.

Victor answered the phone.

"Mr. President."

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"Mr. Victor... I've lost."

Victor said nothing.

"I declare surrender. Unconditional surrender. Any condition you put forth, I agree to. I only ask one thing of you—"

"Speak."

"Do not harm civilians. There are still three million people in Quito, they did nothing."

Victor was silent for a few seconds.

"Mr. President, that's not what you said on television last night."

Silence on the other end again.

"Last night... Last night was for—"

"For what?"

Alarcón said nothing.

Victor waited a few seconds.

"Mr. President, your country is rotten from top to bottom."

His voice was very calm, without anger, without sarcasm, just stating facts.

"The military is dealing drugs. The police are dealing drugs. Officials are dealing drugs. That 'anti-drug' slogan you shout sounds thunderous, but in reality—you know in your heart, Ecuador under your rule is the largest drug transit point for 'Black Mamba'."

Alarcón said nothing.

"Who killed those thirty-seven people in Guayaquil? They were killed by your police and militia. When they were killing, your people were watching on the sidelines, doing nothing."

"Who organized the massacre in San Blas District? It was organized by your 'Patriotic Front.' When those people were burning, looting, and killing in the streets, where were your people?"

A very light breath came from the other end.

"You're only thinking about asking me not to harm civilians this morning. When they were killing yesterday, why did you not think about those civilians?"

Silence.

Very long silence.

Then Alarcón spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper:

"I know... I know everything now..."

Victor said nothing.

"Mr. Victor, I... I'm not asking you to forgive me. I only ask... don't let this city become another Guayaquil."

Victor was silent for a few seconds.

"Mr. President, rest assured. I'm not like them."

He paused.

"I'll have someone send you the terms of surrender. If you accept, have all your troops lay down their arms and assemble at the designated location before noon today. If you don't accept—"

He didn't finish.

Silence for a few seconds on the other end.

"I accept."

Nine o'clock in the morning, Quito, in front of the Presidential Palace.

The first Mexican armored vehicle arrived at the entrance, the square was already empty.

The crowds that cheered last night, the flags waving, the burning torches, were all gone.

Only piles of trash were left—empty bottles, broken signs, torn flyers trodden into the ground.

Garcia jumped down from the vehicle and looked at the white palace.

"Brigade Commander, someone is coming out from the Presidential Palace."

A man in a suit, in his fifties, with greying hair, his expression strange—not fear, not anger, but... exhaustion.

He walked up to Garcia and stood firmly.

"I am Favian Alarcón. President of Ecuador."

Garcia nodded.

"Brigade Commander Garcia. 1st Armored Brigade of the Mexican Army."

Alarcón looked at him.

"I surrender."

Ten o'clock in the morning, in front of the Presidential Palace.

The handover ceremony was simple.

Alarcón signed the surrender document. Two copies, one handed to Garcia, one kept himself.

After signing, he put down the pen and looked up.

"Brigade Commander Garcia, my people... how will they be handled?"

Garcia looked at him.

"Mr. President, that's not within my jurisdiction. I only follow orders."

Alarcón nodded.

"Then Mr. Victor..."

"He will handle it."

Alarcón was silent for a few seconds.

Then he asked:

"Sinopiquiar, what about him? Has he been caught?"

Garcia shook his head.

"Not yet. But our troops have already sealed the borders. He won't get away."

Alarcón nodded again.

"That beast..." he murmured, "he killed the most people..."

Eleven o'clock in the morning, temporary forward command post.

Bramo placed the surrender document in front of Victor.

Victor read it once and placed it on the table.

"Any news of Sinopiquiar?"

Bramo shook his head.

"Still searching. But our intelligence shows he flew north last night in a private plane. The destination could be Colombia or Panama."

Victor was silent for a few seconds.

"Inform Bennett. Have his people in Colombia keep a close watch. Someone like Sinopiquiar won't stay hidden for long."