25Lucas
By the time I get to the guard tower, Diego and the others have strung up the trespasser in a small shed nearby. It’s pitch-black outside, and there’s no electricity in the shed, so I bring a battery-operated lantern with me to inspect the intruder.
As I shine the light on him, I see that he’s an average-looking Colombian man, likely in his early thirties. His clothes look cheap and rather dirty—though that could be from struggling with our guards. He’s also gagged, likely to prevent him from annoying the guards with his pleading.
I step back and turn to Diego. The young Mexican is sporting a mean black eye—a reminder of my earlier outburst over Yulia. For a moment, I consider apologizing more sincerely, but decide that now’s not the time. “Where did you find him?” I ask instead
