Andean Experience Ch. 03: A Shining Path

Height: 180 cm

Weight: 160

Build: Muscular; slumped shoulders

Hair: Black, may be gray or streaked since last photo

Markings: Swarthy and pock-marked complexion; sullen face; long scar along chin, left side; drooping eye, left side; walks with a limp, left side

Particulars:

* Long-time member of the Shining Path guerilla band of Maoist communists.

* Escaped from prison in 2003. Highest-ranking member eluding re-capture.

* Thought killed in a 2010 car-bombing, his remains were never found.

* Sightings as recently as November 24, 2020, place him in Lima, Peru.

* Believed active in Shining Path cocaine export operations in Lima.

A deep chill passed through Jaguar as he read the notice and examined the out-of-date photo. Take away the heavy moustache and it could well be his new tour passenger. And the physical description was a perfect match.

Jaguar was not aware that "Do Not Attempt to Confront or Apprehend" on an Andean police bulletin was code for "Dead or Alive". This was one dangerous man!

So, Lorenzo Martinez was really Julio Olivera Gutierrez, a notorious lieutenant in the dreaded Shining Path movement. No wonder he hated elected politicians. Little wonder that he thought himself a man of the people. He was a hardline Marxist revolutionary!

Every Peruvian knew about the Shining Path terrorists. They had dominated international news for more than twenty years with their reign of murder and mayhem in the impoverished mountain districts of Peru.

They were responsible for at least thirty thousand deaths during that period. When Jaguar was a young American graduate student in archaeology, the university had been forced to suspend fieldwork in their region.

Jaguar knew that the Sendero Luminosa, in Spanish, was an off-shoot of the Peruvian Communist Party, founded by philosophy professor Abimael Guzman. He denounced democracy, while his followers butchered 'class enemies', often big landowners.

The terrorists were ruthless, even attacking Indigenous people who would not side with them, in one case killing sixty-nine villagers, mostly innocent children. The Peruvian army finally captured Guzman and his key followers.

The Shining Path was crippled, but not entirely beaten. Elements continued on, especially as agents in the dirty business of cocaine. Apparently, Jag had one of these last revolutionary holdouts hiding in his tour group, making his way to the Bolivian border to escape the authorities closing in on him.

Jaguar lay thinking for a long time. He decided to stay with his original plan- to carry on as though Gutierrez was just another one of his passengers, until they reached the border. He'd downplay the man's identity to his police contact until then. That might prevent a fiery attack on his bus by over-zealous cops or eager military wanting to claim responsibility for taking Gutierrez down.

Jaguar was as worried about the risks posed by the authorities as he was about his dangerous passenger!

He didn't sleep much that night because he hated the revolutionaries for his own personal reasons. For a long time, he scrunched his eyes tightly, trying to get a vision of the Chavin jaguar. Then he began a soft cadence of words in Spanish, a rising and falling incantation directed to the jaguar, asking for its assistance.

"Arrestar a este hombre.... Arrestar a este hombre.... Arrestar a este hombre."

Arrest that man.... Arrest that man.... Arrest that man.

The strange magic of the Chavin jaguar had already sent Wayne Rasmussen home to Wisconsin and kept his former wife here in his bed. Now, Jaguar hoped that it would intercede to capture Gutierrez without any harm befalling his tour group.

He had studied the mysteries of ancient cultures, particularly the Chavin, and he had come to see himself as a modern-day shaman. He was a man who could communicate with higher powers to direct events to his will.

Nobody else really knew his secret- yet.

****

The city of Puno lay about six hours travel south of Arequipa and the group looked forward to their shortest drive between cities so far. If they had found some portions of the journey tiring, their driver had too; however, he always looked refreshed, ready to go. He felt that way because his charged nights with Marina seemed to fill him with a fresh spirit.

The woman was beginning to work her way into his soul like no-one had for a long, long time. Jaguar thought about this as the minibus sped along the Pan American Highway.

There had been others before, but only one of them had ever held his heart. It always hurt to remember Gloria because she had left him so suddenly, so tragically, the innocent victim of street violence in the grim underworld of Peruvian politics. Caught in crossfire, she didn't stand a chance. Jag had found his young fiancee's riddled body lifeless in a pool of blood.

"Hey! We almost there? Jeez, another long drive!"

Lorenzo abruptly snapped Jag out of his memories. He briefly stared at the man with intense dislike, for he could have been the one who pulled the trigger that night in Lima.

"Just a few more hours. We'll soon stop for a break at a place up ahead."

"Damn long this trip! I should have taken a plane."

"I thought you wanted to see some of your own country? That's the way it came to me."

"Seen too much already! Let's get moving. How long in Puno, you say?"

"Two nights. Then on Saturday we cross the border into Bolivia. Tiwanaku civilization and the Island of the Sun. The Inca figured the world started there," Jaguar said, launching into his tour guide mode, hoping that Lorenzo would give a few more details about his plans.

"The basilica in Copa is what I want to see," Lorenzo stated. "Do you figure that we'll be there noon Saturday?"

Lorenzo seemed to be confirming what Jaguar had already overheard twice.

"As long as we don't have any problem at the border"... Jag began, watching the man from the side of his eye to see his reaction. "You brought your passport, right?"

"Yeah. Got it. I hope the bastards don't give me a hard time. I hate uniforms. Always a problem."

"It usually goes well there. Just smile and answer their questions, and we'll be in Copa by noon. Our first stop there will be the basilica. It's a great old colonial Spanish church"....

"Yeah, I'll remember that. Just smile and answer their questions," Lorenzo mimicked before muttering under his breath, "Fuckin' easy for you to say."

Then there was an accident on the road right ahead. A truck had jack-knifed and there was a battered car lodged under part of the trailer. Flashing lights and uniforms were everywhere, tending to the injured and directing traffic around the scene. As he slowed to a stop, Jaguar noticed Lorenzo stiffen and become alert. His face grew tight, and his right hand went into his always-open coat.

The Mercedes came to a halt at an officer's signal. Then he came up to Jaguar's window. Lorenzo looked desperate now, ready to either shoot or run if the cop came to the other door. Jag was tense, eager to get moving before the situation became more dangerous.

"Wait here a minute. The road is blocked 'til they clean up the glass and get the guy out of the truck."

"Anybody hurt?" Jag asked the cop, trying hard to remain cool.

"The car driver. Dead. Crushed. Trucker is OK."

Then he was gone along the line to the next vehicle that had pulled up behind the minibus. Jag leaned back from his window and glanced over at Lorenzo. He noted that the passenger had taken his hand out of his jacket.

"Somebody died in the car," Jaguar said. "Just not their day, right?"

"Yeah. Every man has to die," was all that Lorenzo said.

After a few minutes, they were on their way again, everybody craning their necks to get a good look at the crumpled vehicles. There was the planned stop at a little place a few miles ahead, then a couple of hours later, the Mercedes rolled into Puno, a city in the extreme southern corner of Peru, not far from the Bolivian border. There were four rooms reserved for them, then they went downstairs to eat.

"Hi Jag!" a waitress called out. "Another tour, eh." And she swayed over to talk some more.

"Hi Esmeralda. How are you these days? It's been a while."

"Yes, but I haven't forgotten," the attractive woman winked. Then she soured a bit, "Who's the lady? One of your passengers?"

"Right. This is Marina, from the U.S." Then turning to her added, "Esmeralda is an old friend."

"You could say that, Jag," the woman said, "A really good old friend."

Marina could see right away that there was a history here, one that she really didn't want to know any more about. The two women locked eyes briefly.

"Hello Esmeralda. Pleased to meet you," she said coldly, wondering for the first time how many women Jaguar had along the roads he followed so regularly.

"Likewise," she replied disdainfully, looking closely at Jaguar. "So... what are you going to have tonight, Jag?"

Did she mean for supper or for his 'bedtime snack'? Was she telling Jaguar to meet her later for some smoke and sex in her room, like they sometimes did when he came? Or was this just about dinner? Jaguar quickly made the situation clear to her.

"Bring us a couple of menus, Esmeralda."

After their meal, everyone retired to their rooms, weary from a day on the road. The email which he had received the night before was burning a hole in Jaguar's brain. He decided that he had to tell Marina about it so that the two of them would be prepared for the coming situation at the border on Saturday. He felt confident that he could swear her to secrecy.

"There's something about Lorenzo I need to tell you, Marina. That's not his real name."

"You got information from Lima, did you?"

"Bad information. He's a dangerous man. A Shining Path terrorist on the run."

"Shining Path.... Weren't they...?"

"Yeah. Radical communists. They killed thousands in Peru, maybe even my fiancee about twenty years ago. He's one of the last holdouts, a drug kingpin now."

"Your fiancee! What happened?"

"Caught in crossfire. We were out walking, and then she was dead!"

Jag's eyes clouded over, and he looked away. Marina knew immediately that she had just ripped open an old wound with her question. She retreated as best she could.

"So, what should we do now, Jag? Tell the police? Have him arrested?"

"No! He always carries a gun in his coat pocket. I don't want another shootout at the hotel or right in my bus"... His voice trailed off, drawing an instant parallel to that situation twenty years ago.

"No, don't want that," Marina echoed.

"You can't tell anyone about this, Marina. We have to just move along like everything is normal. When we get to the border day-after-tomorrow I'll be sure he's up front by me. I don't want him back where he can use passengers as a shield if shooting starts. Hustle everybody onto the bus before he gets there."

"Then what?"

"It depends on him. He says he has a passport, surely a fake for Lorenzo Martinez. He's really Julio Gutierrez. If they glance at it and move on, we'll get through. If there's a problem, who knows? Just keep everybody away from him. Sit right behind me on the bus."

"And if we get through OK?"

"I'll drive straight to the basilica and drop him off by the front steps."

"And just leave him there?"

"They can shoot the bastard if they want. Just not with us around."

"How much does your police friend in already know?"

"I've been vague about Lorenzo, just to keep the cops back. But I'll have to let him know so they're ready at the basilica. I just don't want another shootout before that."

Marina knew what he meant by that and for a moment she saw that flicker of old pain in his eyes.

****

Jaguar had something special planned for his tour group today- a day out on the so-called 'floating islands' on Lake Titicaca. The highest big freshwater lake in the world, it is very deep offshore, and rich aquatic life. High on the Altiplano, the elevated plateau between mountain ranges, the lake has been an important source of fish and waterfowl since ancient times.

Flat aquatic reeds in the shallows near shore was what Jag was focused on today. Peoples living around the lake had used them to make their distinctive boats and storage baskets. In fact, they had even used them to build these homes right on the water by creating artificial floating reed islands! Indigenous peoples continue the practice there today, though in large part for tourism.

It was a complete 'cultural experience', designed with tourists like Jaguar's group in mind. A ride in the fantastically- decorated reed dragon boats, and a walking tour of an entire small community of reed homes on one of the floating islands was an experience unlike any other.

Some musical entertainment, a satisfying meal of fish and local specialties- capped off by photos and souvenirs- left most of Jag's people smiling with appreciation. All except Lorenzo, of course. It was just another waste of time to him, another step in his escape to Bolivia. He knew it was tantalizingly close now, somewhere out across the expanse of this huge inland sea.

"Still on track for Copa at noon tomorrow?" was all that Lorenzo said as he sat next to Jag and Marina at supper that night.

"Sure. If we get away on time. Eager to get there, are you?" Jaguar teased.

"Yeah. Old friends to see tomorrow afternoon. Might skip the basilica tour. Have lunch with them."

"That's fine. I'll just drop you off there and you'll have a few hours free."

"Good. Do that."

Esmeralda was working their section again that evening, but she didn't say much to Jaguar. Marina was sitting a little closer to him than an ordinary passenger would, and the waitress got the message. Maybe when he was coming back this way in a few weeks? She could wait, like she always did.

The tour group had the corner of the restaurant to themselves, so after supper, he ordered some wine for everyone so they could relax together for a while.

"How did everyone like what we did today?"

Zezy: "Amazing, Jag! I'd read about this before but being on those reed islands made it so real!"

Chloe: "I felt like I'd stepped back into another time, being around those people."

Mike: Yeah, another fantastic experience. You really know how to put together a tour, Jag!"

LeeAnn: "Great food. Great souvenirs."

"I think you're all going to find tomorrow very interesting," he started, looking over at Marina, who knew just how interesting it might become at the border or the basilica.

"We'll be crossing into Bolivia, so be sure that you have your passports handy for the border crossing. If you have any weed or other stuff like that, you should use it tonight at the hotel, just in case they go into our stuff."

Jaguar could see Lorenzo's face harden when he said that and continued.

"Everything is 'Yes sir. No sir' there. Smile, have your passport open, and then we're through, OK?" He continued.

"Our first stop is the old Spanish basilica in the centre of Copa, just across the border. We'll have a quick lunch in town, then will take a boat out to the Island of the Sun in Lake Titicaca. That's where Viracocha first created the Sun. We'll poke around on the island, looking at some of the archaeological things of interest there.

We stay the night in Copa, then the next day we'll visit Tiwanaku, just south of the lake, before we move on to Cuzco. Anybody have any questions?"

Someone asked about currency, and after that they were content to talk among themselves and enjoy their wine. Lorenzo shuffled off to his room, likely to reconfirm the basilica pickup with his Bolivian contact, Jag assumed.

There was no love-making that night between the pair, both very much on edge about tomorrow. Jaguar texted his contact Jose to say that he was pretty sure now that Lorenzo was the guy they wanted. He told him to inform Bolivian authorities about the border crossing and the basilica drop-off.

Jag stressed that this could go smoothly without a big display of force. Jose assured him he'd pass that along, but Jaguar was worried, nonetheless.

Marina fell asleep early as usual, common for passengers unaccustomed to the thin air up on the Altiplano. When he was sure that she was asleep, Jaguar took his own advice and smoked the last of his little stash. Soon the mild drug had carried him to a different realm where he could feel an awareness of the spirit world.

The blood-thirsty Lanzon in the Old Temple at Chavin de Huantar soon loomed large in his mind. He needed its help in his desperation to protect his tour group. Jaguar focused his eyes on the vision of this hungry beast and began a quiet incantation, rising and falling words appealing to the Lanzon for its assistance.

"Arrestar a este hombre.... Arrestar a este hombre.... Arrestar a este hombre."

Arrest that man.... Arrest that man.... Arrest that man.

****

Saturday morning: This was the critical day. Right after breakfast Marina herded the other four into the back seats of the Mercedes, leaving the front one across from Jaguar for Lorenzo. As Jag loaded the luggage, Lorenzo dropped off his bag and sat down. Marina noticed the grim look on his face. This was a big day for him too.

When Jag climbed into the driver's seat, the tension among the three of them could be cut with a knife. Then they were off, bound for Copacabana, Bolivia.

Sometimes, if anything can go wrong, it will.

Midway to the border, a tire went flat, maybe something sharp on the road embedded when passing through the traffic accident between Arequipa and Puno? As Jaguar and Mike worked to change it, Lorenzo paced outside the minibus, chain-smoking the cheap cigarettes he always carried in his right jacket pocket. Jag had already noticed the telltale bulge on the other side.

"Can't you two work a little faster?"

"Yeah. If you help us. Hand me those lug nuts one-by-one."

One hand on his cigarette, Lorenzo crouched down to help. From his angle, leaning down on the pair, Mike spotted the shining grip of Lorenzo's pistol in his coat! When the tire was mounted and the man had climbed back into the bus, Mike whispered nervously to Jag.

"He's got a gun in his pocket. I saw the handle!"

"Yeah. Don't let on you know, but help Marina keep the others back from him until we leave the basilica. The cops want him."

"Jeez, Jag. He's dangerous!"

"More than you can imagine, Mike. Now just act cool!"

11:00 o'clock: The Bolivian border was close now. Jaguar had pushed the speed limit to get back on schedule, all the while worrying about being stopped for speeding. Police weren't something he wanted to see right now. As always, there was a line of vehicles at the crossing- too much of a line as far as Lorenzo was concerned.

"What the Hell is going on up there!" he muttered.

"Always slow like this," Jaguar assured him. "We'll be across in no time," hoping he was right.

"Goddam slow!" his passenger complained again, and Jaguar could see sweat beginning to form on the man's forehead.

"Relax. We're moving ahead now," Jag pointed out as a uniformed man waved the Mercedes into another line of vehicles.

"Where we going!" Lorenzo hissed at Jag with alarm in his voice.

"A shorter line. Take it easy, man."

11:15: As the bus continued to inch forward, Lorenzo kept checking his watch. He reached into a trouser pocket, pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief and wiped his now-dripping brow. The wait was excruciating for all four of them- Lorenzo, Jag, Marina and Mike. The other three had no idea of the drama which was being played out.

11:30: Another guard waved them to a third line with a booth which had just opened. Jag pulled up to the window. and thought he recognized the official from his many crossings with tour groups. The man certainly remembered him.