📸 Photo

MARCHING POWDER

screwing the napkin tightly around my fingers, cutting off the circulation. I tried not to think about Lanza because it made me so angry. Besides, it wouldn't be too long before I would get my revenge. Instead of a beer, I ordered an imported Chilean red from the wine menu. For the entrée, we had camarones al ajillo – prawns in a rich garlic sauce – a luxury in a landlocked country like Bolivia.

By the time the main course arrived, we had already finished the bottle of wine. I was finally beginning to relax and think like a normal person again, but when I got up to go to the toilet, Jaime jerked to attention and asked me where I was going. He insisted on accompanying me to the bathroom.

I guess he's only doing his job, I thought. Nevertheless, having a policeman look over my shoulder when I was standing at the urinal destroyed the illusion of freedom. I decided to look on the bright side, though. At least I'm not handcuffed, I thought, as we returned to our seats.

I ordered another bottle of the same wine to have with our main courses. We toasted to freedom and then set about eating our filet mignons. Jaime was already tipsy and when the waiter went to refill his glass, he covered it with his hand.

'If you can't drink any more, I'll drink the rest myself,' I teased him. He grabbed the bottle from the waiter and poured himself a glass, spilling some on the white tablecloth.

These Bolivians love to get drunk, but they really can't drink much, I thought. Perhaps I could get my escort paralytic and give him the slip?

'Don't be stupid, Thomas,' I told myself. I couldn't possibly. It wasn't worth the risk. My lawyers had already paid the judge and I would be free within a few weeks. They had promised that I would be out by Christmas at the latest. The money I had could last a few months, and if I was allowed out on prison leave occasionally, there was no reason to be stupid and risk getting more charges laid against me, which could mean five more years in prison.

With the next glass, we toasted the Republic of Bolivia and after that, Jaime wasn't following the conversation at all. He stopped eating and his head rolled to the side slightly as though he was about to fall asleep. Every now and then he would sit upright suddenly, raise his glass to Bolivia, take a sip of wine and then drift off again. As I ate my