11
11Bogotá, Colombia, 1 July 2014
The guards came for the prisoner after lights-out.
A buzzer sounded, awakening the denizens of the prison block. Tattooed fingers gripped cell bars, shadowy faces pressed between the bars, baleful eyes peered into the darkness, curious about the disturbance. The acoustics of the blockhouse amplified the jangle of keys. A cell door unlocked ominously as if heralding the freedom of a caged animal. That wasn’t far from the truth, given the general disposition of the prison population.
A door slid open on squeaky wheels.
The solitary occupant of the cell looked up from the well-thumbed paperback he had been reading. His gaze rested upon the three guards, he set the paperback upside-down on his bed, its pages spread out, bookmarked.
“About time,” he rasp
