Chapter 3 (Moving On)
Tony woke up as the plane was touching down on the crystal clear blue waters of a river in the heart of Bolivia. Tony disembarked with his phone, realising He was unarmed he grunted, "Damn." Tony muttered. " What's wrong Mr. Montana?" " I don't have a gun Mike" Tony replied in a soft almost playful tone. " Here Mr. Montana." Mike reached under the seat and drew a 9 millimetre from underneath, and painted it, handle out towards Tony. "Thanks Mike I appreciate this" He slid the magazine out, checked it and slid it back in.
"Here's two more," Mike passed them over, " I have to leave, You can call the plane at this number," He handed Tony a slip of paper " And I can be here in about twenty minutes, alright?" "Yeah Mike, No problem." "Ok." Mike pulled the passenger door shut and started to accelerate down the river, slowly rising out of the clean waters.
Tony walked down the dirt street of the small village He was in. After he got away from the river the street became paved with light gray bricks, smoothed with time. Tony saw a small clothier along the street, what He assumed was the main street, and entered. There was an elderly man behind the counter. " You knit these?" Tony inquired examining a light, white cotton short sleeve shirt similar to the style a safari hunter may wear. " Yes." The old man grinned " five... dollars... American." The old man strugled to speak in clear english. Tony took five of them off the rack, along with five matching pairs of tan cotton trousers, " Here is two hundred dollars" Tony said taking twenty ten dollar bills from a wad He had in His pocket. The old man gasped. "No big deal." Tony said, " Is there a place where I can change into these?" Tony asked. The old man pointed to a small wicker door in the back corner of the store. Tony got changed, put the money on the counter and left.
As Tony walked down the street an old truck rolled towards Him. "Sosa" an elderly woman said, scrambling to get off the street. Tony got to the side of the road and turned His back, the Truck rolled past. " What was that?" Tony asked the older woman. " That was one of Sosa's trucks, Him and His men run this town, even the police are afraid of Him." "Thanks,"
Tony replied," Do You know where they go in this town?" " To a store, The Trading Hut, They chased out the foreign owners, now the place sits empty, They do terrible things inside, They keep dark brown paper over the windows." " Thanks." Tony said.
Tony peered around the corner of the building from the alley way. He saw the back doors open and Sosa's thugs bringing a man with His hands bound and a canvas bag over His head into the store. After all the thugs went inside Tony crept over to the front door, and peered through a space in the paper. Tony drew His 9MM and reached for the door handle.
Tony heard footsteps coming towards the door. He took a deep breath threw the door open, and shot the man coming towards Him. The other four men, stopped kicking the bound man and went to draw guns, when Tony put bullets in all of them. One, a man wearing a boxy baseball cap, with a beard connected with sideburns to his hair with a bushy mustache, lay sobbing and moaning on the floor. " Not such a tough guy now, are You?" Tony asked mockingly and kicked him across the mouth.
Tony walked across the floor to the man the thugs were beating. " You ok?" Tony asked as He crouched to remove the hood. " Yeah, little sore though." Tony removed the hood, " Look out!" The Man yelped, Tony turned and put a bullet in the bearded mans forehead. "Every dog has his day." Tony said soberly. " Who are You?" Tony inquired suspiciously.
The Man said, " Sam, Sam O'Neil."