Chapter 2049 - 844: Crush Those Restless Idiots

Sinopiquer lay on the cold concrete floor, unable to sleep.

Next door was Acuña. He could hear Acuña turning over, sighing, talking to himself.

Further down were a few people he didn't recognize—maybe from the police station, maybe from the "Patriotic Front," or maybe just regular soldiers. He couldn't tell, and he didn't want to.

He was thinking about what would happen next. ℴ

Trial. Certainly a trial. Then what? Life imprisonment? Or—death penalty?

He thought of that three-year-old child.

Diego Espinosa.

That day in the San Anna District, he stood at the street corner watching as the police dragged people out of Mexican homes, pinned them to the ground, machetes waving wildly. He saw a woman run out holding a child, chased down by several people, pinned to the ground, the knife came down. He saw that child being pulled from the woman's arms, thrown onto the pile of tires at the corner, then someone poured gasoline on the tires and lit them.

He didn't stop it.

He stood there, watching.

He even smiled.

That was the last thing he did in this life—smile.

Now he lay here, listening to Acuña's sighs next door, thinking about that child's face.

What did that child's face look like?

He couldn't remember clearly. Just remembered it was very small, very round, with big eyes. Eyes still open when burning, looking at the sky, or looking at those burning him.

He didn't know what the child was called.

Later came to know, called Diego Espinosa.

Three years old.

He closed his eyes.

He couldn't sleep.

February 13, 1998, morning, Mexico City, Paseo de la Reforma.

More people marched than yesterday.

Not anti-Mexico march, but a march supporting Victor.

People holding signs: "Victor, pride of the nation!" "Revenge for murdered compatriots!" "Mexico will not tolerate bullying!"

Victor stood at the window of the "Feathered Serpent Temple," looking at the sea of people below.

Casare stood next to him.

"Boss, the opinion poll is out. Your support rate has risen by seventeen percent in the past three days."

Victor didn't speak.

"Over on the Congress side, those who opposed you yesterday all issued statements this morning. Saying 'understand the necessity of sending troops,' 'support the government in maintaining national dignity.'

Victor's mouth moved slightly.

"Fence-sitters."

Casare grinned.

"Fence-sitters are good, easy to control."

Bramo pushed the door open and came in, holding a document.

"Mr. Victor, Ecuador's temporary government's list is out. Sent over by Garcia."

Victor took it and glanced at it.

Temporary President: Oswaldo Ulta, former Supreme Court judge, seventy-three, known for integrity.

Temporary Vice President: Lucia Galiano, female, forty-five, human rights lawyer, defended many persecuted by the military government.

Temporary Parliament Speaker: Pedro Lopez, fifty-nine, economist, once worked at the World Bank.

The list also included over a dozen—judges, scholars, union leaders, human rights activists. None had connections to the past military or government.

Victor put the list down.

"Tell Garcia, this selection will do. Have them swear in quickly and start preparing the special court."

Bramo nodded.

Victor said, "Tell Garcia to let them know, those the special court will try include police and militia involved in the massacre, but not Sinopiquiar. Sinopiquiar, we want to bring back to Mexico City."

Bramo hesitated for a moment.

"Will the temporary government have objections?"

Victor looked at him.

"They can have objections. But they need to first have the ability to express their objections."

February 13, 1998, afternoon, Quito, Presidential Palace.

Garcia handed the list to Ulta.

Ulta finished reading and was silent for a long time.

Then he raised his head, looking at Garcia.

"Commander Garcia, this list...was it selected by you?"

Garcia shook his head.

"It was chosen by Mr. Victor."

Ulta was silent for a few seconds.

"Does he know who we are?"

Garcia looked at him.

"He knows. He says you are clean, the vice president has a human rights background, the speaker has an international perspective. This combination will be recognized by the international community."

Ulta lowered his head and looked at the list again.

"That Sinopiquiar..." He paused, "You want to take away?"

Garcia nodded.

"He killed Mexicans. Must be tried in Mexico."

Ulta was silent for a few seconds.

Then he nodded.

"I understand."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the streets of Quito were restoring order. Mexican soldiers were still patrolling, but there were more people than yesterday. A few children were playing football in a square, the sound of laughter faintly heard.

"Commander Garcia," Ulta said, "after you withdraw troops, what will this country become?"

Garcia looked at him.

"That depends on you."

Ulta turned around.

"Me?"

"Mr. Victor says, Ecuador's affairs, Ecuadorians solve them themselves. We do not interfere in internal affairs."

Ulta paused.

"Do not interfere in internal affairs? Then your troops—"

"Are to protect our people," Garcia interrupted him, "Now protected, the rest is your own affairs."

Ulta was silent for a long time.

Then he smiled.

The smile was very complicated.

"Alright," he said, "then let us try."

February 13, 1998, evening, Mexico City, National Palace.

Victor sat in the office, three documents spread before him.

First document: Ecuador's temporary government list. Officially announced tomorrow.