Authors: Ross Sidor
They all knew which choice Rivero would make, and Avery
pitied the man for the hell he was about to put himself through.
From behind the soaking wet hood over Rivero’s head,
there was a strained chuckle that turned into a hacking cough. “So you fuckers
are ANIC? ANIC had their try, too. I’m not afraid. I haven’t had a shower in
two months, so go ahead, and turn the water back on, you sons of whores.”
Daniel’s voice stayed calm, measured.
“Who I am isn’t important, because I won’t be the one
asking the questions, Cesar. If you don’t talk to me right now, we’re all leaving
Bellavista together and turning you over to the Black Eagles. No one’s
expecting you to do the smart thing, and the Black Eagles are looking forward
to your visit. They must have had to draw fucking straws to see who gets their
hands on you.”
Silence reigned.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Black Eagles was the name for a number of armed groups
formed after the dissolution of the AUC, the United Self-Defense Unit of
Colombia, a paramilitary death squad that targeted members of FARC, ELN, and
the cartels, as well as their families and left wing politicians. They were financed
by mining and oil companies whose businesses were threatened by the insurgent groups.
AUC, and subsequently the Black Eagles, were added to the US State Department’s
list of terrorist organizations for their mass civilian killings and human
rights abuses. Over 20,000 killings and disappearances have been linked to the
group. While the National Police Search Bloc unit hunted the Black Eagles and
former AUC members, ANIC maintained loose ties with certain factions who shared
a common enemy in FARC and the cartels.
When Rivero finally spoke, his voice did not sound as
resilient as his words. “Go ahead. It’s been a long time since I had a chance
to spit on a Black Eagle.”
Daniel was not going to ask again.
As Aguilar’s soldiers approached Rivero and produced a
syringe to inject him with Etorphine, Avery couldn’t help but grimace, thinking
that Cesar Rivero really should have made a smarter decision. Once the small
dose of the diluted horse tranquilizer took effect, Rivero’s limp body went
into a sack, was se
aled inside, and removed from the
prison.
___
By
the time his captors woke him up with a shot of synthetic adrenaline, they had
already moved Cesar Rivero to an abandoned textile factory in western Medellin.
Medellin was now a heavily industrialized and
urbanized city with solid infrastructure, flourishing businesses, and brand new
skyscrapers, but in the 1980s, when the powerful cartel named after the city
flourished, Medellin was the most violent city in the world. Although many of
the city’s neighborhoods are now completely peaceful and safe, in other areas
paramilitaries and gangs engage in gun battles on the streets. Here no one
would dare interfere with the Black Eagles or report anything they saw or heard
to the police. A gunshot or two wouldn’t spark alarm or draw attention here.
Rivero lay naked on the cracked, dusty cement floor,
breathing the musty air that smelled of mold. The rows of overhead candescent
light bulbs were out, except for those directly over his small floor space.
Outside the ten-foot diameter of light cast over the floor, a thick curtain of
darkness cloaked assorted shadows and shapes created by the old power looms and
warping racks.
Rivero’s hands remained cuffed behind his back, his
legs trussed. He felt the crusted filth on the insides of his thighs and knew that
he’d pissed himself. He understood interrogation techniques, and the power of
dehumanizing and degrading the subject. They sought to destroy his dignity and
wear him down, destroy his will.
Six hours after the injection, he still experienced
the effects of the combination of drugs in his system. He felt nauseous, and his
heart and pulse raced. Despite the warm air, he felt chills throughout body. He
rested his head back against the floor and shut his eyes, trying to conserve
his energy and strength.
He never heard anyone approach, but when he felt
something nudge his shoulder, he opened his eyes to see four men standing over
him. They wore ski masks and civilian clothes—jeans or shorts and t-shirts—with
latex gloves. Each man had a black armband wrapped around their right bicep, denoting
their AUC membership.
Avery and Aguilar stood on either side of Daniel in
the dark, unseen by the prisoner. They no longer wore their masks. There was no
need. They’d crossed the point of no return, and Rivero would never leave this
place alive.
The Black Eagles made no introductions and issued no
threats to Rivero and asked him no questions. They simply and methodically got
down right to business.
Two Black Eagles spread out a large sheet of clear
plastic over the floor and taped it down around the edges. Then they dragged Rivero
onto the plastic. He was nearly deadweight, his body too weak to resist. They restrained
him by his ankles and shoulders, underneath the lights.
Another Black Eagle turned on the electric drill and
brought it up to speed.
Rivero watched, silently but horrified, as the Black
Eagle crouched near him and calmly pressed the tip of the long, thin spinning
drill bit to the center of his kneecap, holding it there for a second before
pressing it in. The spinning, threaded metal burrowed through flesh, bone, and
cartilage with little resistance. A cloud of red mist and white-gray bone dust
filled the air.
Rivero thrashed and shuddered. Suddenly all sensation
had returned to his body and the drug-induced clouds cleared from his mind. The
Black Eagles held onto him to keep him still. His high-pitched screams bounced
off the factory walls.
When the tip of the bit finally emerged through the
soft tissue behind the knee, the Black Eagle clamped a hand onto Rivero’s leg
to hold it steady as he pulled the drill back with the other hand. The grooves
of the bit scraped against bone and snagged tissue on its way out. Blood poured
steadily through the tiny hole, collecting on the floor. As his body slipped
into shock and released natural pain killers, Rivero gradually stopped
screaming and relaxed. He rested his head back and stared up at the low ceiling
as he tried to place his thoughts elsewhere and detach himself from what was
taking place.
Avery watched from the shadows, unflinching and
transfixed. He didn’t avert his gaze once. He wasn’t moved by Rivero’s trauma,
but Rivero’s determination surprised him.
The color had drained from Rivero’s face, and he
sweated rivulets. His eyelids fluttered. The Black Eagle holding onto his
shoulders slapped Rivero a couple times to bring his attention around and keep
him from passing out.
Now that he was softened up, had a sampling of what
was in store for him, the Black Eagles questioned him in Spanish.
When Rivero failed to provide satisfactory responses,
the drill was turned on once more, and this time it went through the opposite kneecap,
followed immediately by an elbow. In the process, they had to splash a
bucketful of water over Rivero to prevent him from slipping away. There was
only so much the body could take before it shut down.
“He’s not going to talk,” Avery said quietly.
Rivero would have talked already if he could be
coerced by pain alone. After this, continuing to put holes in him simply
wouldn’t be productive, but the Black Eagles still enjoyed the effort. A part
of Avery admired Rivero’s conviction. Even the most hardcore, dedicated jihadists
gave in after just a couple minutes of relatively harmless water boarding.
“He’ll die before he betrays her. These guys better
change tactics, because I have a feeling Rivero can go through this all day.”
“I believe you’re right,” Daniel said after several
seconds, checking his watch, “but we still had to try. I sincerely hoped that
it wouldn’t come to this, but it’s become necessary to threaten Senor Rivero
with something he may value more than his own life.”
Avery hadn’t been briefed beforehand on Daniel’s
interrogation strategies, and what happened next came as much a surprise to him
as it must have for Rivero.
Three of the Black Eagles walked away from the
interrogation floor into a back room, out of sight, while the fourth paramilitary
lined up four wooden chairs.
Rivero watched them with a permeating sense of dread,
and Avery shared the feeling.
Avery soon heard Spanish speaking voices coming from
the back room, and he was sure he heard a woman’s voice, muffled and afraid,
until it was cut short by the sound of a slap.
A minute later, he saw movement through the shadows.
When they stepped out from the dark, under the lights,
Avery saw them.
The Black Eagles dragged a tall woman with black hair
and soft features, along with two girls and a boy, to the chairs and instructed
them to sit down. The oldest of the children looked to be in her teenage years,
while the other two were both below the age of ten. They reacted in shock and
horror at the sight of their husband and father exposed, broken, and bleeding
on the floor before them. Even from behind the thick strips of utility tape
plastered over their lips Avery heard the muffled, whimpering cries from the
females and the boy.
Avery tensed and glanced over to Daniel for an
explanation.
“The Black Eagles picked them up yesterday afternoon,
shortly after I contacted them,” Daniel said.
Avery didn’t need to ask who they were. He knew from the
dossier on Cesar Rivero that the man had two daughters and a son, and hadn’t
seen them since he’d come to Bellavista.
“You told them to do this?” Avery asked.
“I instructed them to do whatever they felt was
necessary.”
When Rivero attempted to get up, a Black Eagle kicked
him in the chest, toppling him over, and then kicked him in the side.
The other Black Eagles started to tie the woman and
her children to the chairs. When Rivero’s wife resisted, she was punched twice
in the side of the head. When the boy tried to defend his mother, jumping out
of his chair, he was backhanded across the face and landed on the floor near
his father. As a Black Eagle grabbed onto the boy and hoisted him back up,
Rivero looked into his son’s eyes and told him that it would be okay, but his
voice wavered. Neither of them believed the lie for a second.
“What the fuck is this, Daniel?” Avery’s voice barely
rose above a whisper.
Daniel didn’t respond.
Avery silently willed Rivero to cooperate, for the
sake of the noncombatants, but Avery also didn’t think that it made much
difference at this point. The Black Eagles enjoyed inflicting pain for the fuck
of it. They got off on the suffering of their victims, and terrorizing them
before finally killing them, and they’d already gotten a taste of blood.
Avery thought this was now well outside of Daniel’s
control.
The Black Eagles resumed questioning Rivero, who told
them he didn’t possess the information they sought. He told them he hadn’t been
in contact with the Viper or anyone from FARC or the cartel during his time in
Bellavista. Then he pleaded for the release of his family, but the Black Eagles
were unmoved by his emotions.
But Rivero’s words betrayed the fact that he had
indeed personally and knowingly worked with the Viper before, and Daniel nodded
with satisfaction, knowing they were on the right track.
Still, Rivero’s answers weren’t satisfactory.
The lead interrogator drew a pistol, cocked the
hammer, and executed Rivero’s nine-year old son. The shot echoed inside the
factory. The boy’s small head slumped forward against his chest.
Rivero’s wife spewed vomit across the floor and
screamed.
“This is going too far, Daniel,” Avery said, surprised
at how calm he felt, once the concussion of the single shot cleared. “Do you
hear me? This needs to end now.”
Daniel didn’t even look at Avery.
“Goddamnit, you son of a bitch, if you don’t stop this,
I will.”
“I strongly advise against intervening,” Daniel
finally said. “These men will surely kill you. Despite the connotations of your
nickname, you have a rather weak stomach, don’t you, Carnivore?”
Avery turned to Aguilar. If he was looking for
support, he found none. Aguilar was still, his breathing short and heavy. His
face showed nothing.
Rivero was screaming now, begging them to release his
family.
When the Black Eagle put the gun to the head of one of
his daughters, Rivero finally provided a single name, one suddenly recalled
from the deepest recesses of his memory, one that hadn’t entered his mind until
that second. He said that Sean Nolan would know where to find Moreno. Nolan had
been a close friend of the Moreno siblings, and was one of the rare members of
the Viper’s inner circle. He’d accompanied her on the Medellin operation.
Avery never heard the name before, but he detected a
glint of recognition register on Daniel’s face.
Over the next ten minutes, Rivero freely divulged
everything he knew about Sean Nolan, and described in detail how the Viper
planned and executed the Medellin courthouse operation, and there was no
further abuse inflicted upon Rivero or his family during this time.