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Rodolfo Herrera re-entered the house through the back door, quickly crossed the kitchen and entered the large loungeroom. Ignacio Vargas was nowhere in sight. He moved to the open front door and looked out onto the front veranda. Vargas was not there. He turned and walked to the centre of the room. “Vargas, d’onde estás?” he called softly. He received no answer. Growing concerned, he looked across to the hallway door. It was only slightly ajar. He was certain it was wide open before they all went out onto the rear veranda. Perhaps Vargas was in the bathroom, he thought. He moved across the room and stood before the partially closed hallway door. “Vargas,” he called again. “Estás allí?” He received no response. Now, his concern deepened. He raised his pistol and, with the barrel, gently
