Chapter 2047 - 844: Crush Those Restless Idiots

But he was not that Sinopiquiar.

He was wearing a crumpled prison uniform, his hair was a mess, his face bruised, and his left eye swollen down to a slit. He was propped up by two people, his legs too weak to stand, his entire being like a pile of mud.

Alarcon was stunned.

"Sinopiquiar..."

Sinopiquiar raised his head and looked at him.

The light in those eyes was gone.

"Mr. President..." His voice was hoarse like sandpaper, "I... I've confessed to everything..."

Alarcon looked at him, unsure of what to say.

The people holding Sinopiquiar dragged him to a chair, pressing him down to sit.

Then they left, closing the door.

The room was left with only Alarcon and Sinopiquiar.

Silence.

A long, long silence.

Then Alarcon spoke, his voice very soft:

"Why did you run?"

Sinopiquiar kept his head down, not speaking.

"You killed so many people and then ran away."

Alarcon's voice started to tremble.

"Do you know where they are now? Those people you killed? Their bodies are still piled at the street corner in the San Anna District, unclaimed, because they no longer have families. You killed their entire families."

Sinopiquiar still didn't speak.

"That three-year-old child," Alarcon continued, "Diego Espinosa. Do you know how he died?"

Sinopiquiar's body shook.

"He was burned to death. Thrown on a tire by you and burned to death. Burned until only half of him was left."

Alarcon stood up and walked in front of him.

"Look at me."

Sinopiquiar lifted his head.

Alarcon looked at him, the anger in his eyes almost blazing.

"Fucking look at me."

Sinopiquiar's tears fell.

"Mr. President... I... I did it for the country..."

Alarcon laughed.

Laughed bitterly, sadly, hopelessly.

"For the country. Okay. So where is the country now?"

He pointed outside the window.

"Those Mexican soldiers out there, they are here to occupy us. Do you know why they are here? Because of you!"

Sinopiquiar lowered his head.

"Because you, this bastard, killed one hundred and sixty innocent people! They came and annihilated our country, and now you tell me, you did it for the country?"

Alarcon's hand was trembling.

He wanted to hit him.

Wanted to hit him hard.

But his hand wouldn't move.

Because he knew he was guilty too.

What did he do when the massacres happened? He issued a few statements, said some condemnations, and then? Then he stood on the balcony, dressed in military uniform, yelling "against Mexican hegemony" into the cameras, making those murderers even more excited.

He was part of it too.

Sinopiquiar was the knife, and he was the one holding it.

"Mr. Alarcon."

The door opened again.

Bennett walked in.

He looked at the two of them, one standing, one sitting, one angry, one collapsing.

"Have you finished talking?"

Alarcon said nothing.

Bennett walked up to Sinopiquiar.

"Mr. Sinopiquiar, it's time for you to go back."

The two people came in again, propped Sinopiquiar up, and dragged him out.

The door closed.

The room was left with only Alarcon and Bennett.

Bennett looked at him.

"Mr. President, Mr. Victor asked me to ask you one question."

Alarcon waited.

"Are you willing to testify?"

Alarcon froze.

"Testify what?"

"Prove the CIA's actions in Ecuador."

Bennett took a document out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"This is Acuña's confession. He confessed how the CIA funded him, how they supported anti-Mexico organizations, how they planned to disrupt Ecuador. Now we need someone to verify these things from a political level."

Alarcon looked at the document.

"If you do this, you can live."

Bennett's voice was very calm.

"Not live well, but live. Confined, but living. Maybe five years, maybe ten, maybe twenty, but alive."

Alarcon was silent for a long time.

Then he asked:

"What will happen to Sinopiquiar?"

Bennett looked at him.

"He will die."

Alarcon said nothing.

"Not by us," Bennett added, "but by the Ecuadorian people. After we withdraw the troops, there will be a special court to try all those involved in the massacres. Sinopiquiar will be the first. The second will be Acuña. Third, fourth, fifth—there are twenty-seven people on the list."

He paused.

"You are the twenty-eighth. But if you are willing to testify, you can be crossed off the list."

Alarcon closed his eyes.

He remembered thirty years ago, the young parliamentarian standing on the steps of the Parliament Building. Then he thought that one day, he wanted to make this country better.

Now this country was annihilated, and he had a chance to survive.

Survive for what?

To watch the families of those he had harmed pointing at him in the street saying: "That traitor, that turncoat, he confessed to everything to save his life."

He opened his eyes.

"I will testify."

February 11, 1998, 8 PM, Mexico City, top floor of the "Feathered Serpent Temple".

Victor stood by the window, looking at the night view outside.

Bramo reported beside him:

"Alarcon agreed to testify. Acuña's confession has been organized, and Sinopiquiar's interrogation record is also out. Together with that Russian Ivanov, we now have four corroborating pieces of evidence, enough to prove the CIA's infiltration activities in Ecuador and all of Latin America."