The monkey reached for the wire. "No!" said Diatri. The monkey withdrew its hand and scowled. "Wire bad," said Diatri. "Wire bad. Bad wire! No!"

The monkey walked over to where the wire disappeared into the bushes. "Yo, hey, Bonzo! No!" Great, killed by a monkey. Diatri fished in his pocket, took out a disposable cigarette lighter. The bushes were rustling. He held it underneath the wire and spun the striker wheel. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Bonzo had disappeared. Jesus. He put the lighter inside his armpit, which was about the temperature of the sun anyway. He held it clamped there as sweat poured off him. Then he held it under the wire. A tiny blue ball of flame, barely enough to warm a cold mosquito, appeared. Come on, come on. The wire glowed red, then white. Come on. The blue ball of flame died. The wire cooled. Shit!

He looked up. Bonzo handed him the apparatus. It was a rat trap with a hole drilled through for a twelve-gauge shell. A nail was soldered to the bow as a firing pin. It was a live shell. The nail was against the primer. Why hadn't it gone off?

Bonzo made a face and lumbered off into the bushes. Diatri fainted.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine." His hands hurt badly. He had some blueness underneath the bandage on the wrist.

"Good. I have something to show you."

"It's a little early for art."

El Niño considered. "Similar theme. This you would call a 'performance piece.'" Two men helped Charley up and out of the building.

Charley blinked in the morning sun. They were in the large field in front of the white house. He noted with satisfaction the extent of the damage. The jungle was still smoking off to one side, where the chemical shed had been.

"You're amused?"

"Looks like you had some trouble here."

"Nothing serious. We will be back to full operational capacity in a couple of weeks. But that was good ether you blew up. Expensive."

"How about that." Charley knew he was being led to his execution. He was not afraid, and this fact pleased him.

They came to an open shed at the far end of the field. Charley saw three wooden tubs with hoses running in and out. Men were standing around expectantly. They looked at him and grinned to each other. Charley was aware of one group of men standing to one side, apart, somehow, from the rest. They were not grinning and bantering with the others.

"Good morning, comrades," El Niño said. "This is Mr. Becker, from the United States. He has traveled a long way to be with us this morning. Let us show our appreciation." The men laughed and applauded.

"You see." El Niño grinned. "Typical Latin hospitality."

A group of men appeared, dragging a man covered with a hood. They brought him to the edge of one of the tubs. El Niño gave a signal and they pulled off his hood.

"And this is Mr. Felix Velez, a friend of Mr. Becker's."

He had been severely beaten. One eye was swollen over and closed. He could barely stand. The worst was his hands. The fingers were grotesquely bent.

"Felix!"

Felix's face contorted into a smile. "Boss," he said.

Charley said to El Niño, "All right, you've made your point. I concede. You win."

"That's very accommodating of you, billonario."

"Whatever you want. Anything."

"Anything? And from the man who has everything."

"Including me. You can keep me."

"Billonario, for someone who's made so much money, you're a terrible negotiator."

"You want the painting?"

"But you destroyed the painting."

"I told you, it was a copy. I can have the real one here by tomorrow. By tonight."

"Delivered by the United States Air Force."

"No, no tricks. My own plane. I'm your collateral. Whatever happens, you keep me."

El Niño whispered, "You see that man over there? Do you know what he thinks of my Manet? He thinks the soldiers look like penguins. He's the number three Sendero cadre. So I told him, 'Yes, they look just like penguins.' What can you do with people like that? I ask you."

"I have a lot of paintings. Fine paintings."

"It's tempting."

"Do it, Antonio."

He turned toward Charley. "Antonio is dead," he whispered.

"I killed him." He grinned. "I tell you what, we'll put it to the men. We're a democracy here. Comrades, Señor Becker proposes to give us a painting in exchange for his friend there. What do you say?"

Charley shouted, "And gold."

"That's not going to work, billonario. My men don't care for gold. They're politically conscious." He said, "When I was a student in the States, there was this game show on television where you had to choose between the curtain and the box. America's contribution to world culture. So, comrades, do you want the painting, or Señor Velez?"

The men laughed. "Señor Velez!"

El Niño turned to Charley. "Vox populi, vox dicit. That's Latin, the real stuff." He nodded.

"The Amazon possesses the richest aquaculture in the world," El Niño said in the tones of a Marineland tour guide. "And among the many species we have, the candiru is one of the most interesting." The men laughed. "Technically a catfish, the candiru is very small, like a toothpick." The men laughed as if they had heard this before. "It has a great fondness for-how shall we call them?-mammalian orifices." Laughter. "And when the candiru finds one that it likes, it swims up it, like a salmon. Once it has arrived at its destination, it puts out little spines to hold itself there. People who have experienced this unique sensation say it is, well, very unpleasant. The pain of a single candiru can drive a man to chop off his penis with a machete." The men roared. "I wonder what the sensation caused by a hundred would be."

"No," said Charley. "Please."

"Let's find out." The men heaved Felix into the tank. He came to the surface gasping and tried to hold on to the edge with his mangled hands. A man standing by the tub brought the butt of his rifle down on them. Felix moaned.

"Felix!"

Felix's face began to contort. He gasped. The closed eye opened. He looked at Charley. "Boss."

One of El Niño's men began unwrapping the bandage of Charley's right hand. El Niño pressed a gun into it. It was Charley's own.45. Charley felt the muzzle of a gun at the back of his neck. El Niño leaned over and whispered, "Put him out of his misery, billonario. But I warn you, if you point that gun at anyone but Felix, you will die before you can pull the trigger, and I will keep your Felix alive for a week."

Felix saw what was happening. He gasped, "Boss, please."

"No!" Charley shook his head. "No!"

"Please, boss."

El Niño said, "You both have very good manners, I'll give you that. Everything is please."

"Stop this!" Charley shouted.

"You have the power to stop it, billonario."

"Boss," Felix shouted, "I slept with her."

"It's, it's all right, Felix. It doesn't matter."

"I slept with her, in the clearing, on the island. Please."

"It's all right."

El Niño said, "He slept with-the granddaughter? Oh, that's not good, billonario. But you know what they say about finding good help."

Charley aimed the gun at El Niño. The gun in the back of his neck dug in.

"Please…"

"Do it, billonario. Look how he suffers."

Charley pointed the gun at Felix. Felix smiled, nodded. Charley fired.