Where the Condor Casts its Shadow (English Version)

By John Woodham

A young girl suffers the traumatic loss of a family member when her village is attacked by a group of guerrillas in Colombia. Years later she takes part in a major operation to recapture an escaped drug lord who had been a former member of the group.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Woodham
• Release date: Jun 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223659549

Book preview

Chapter 1

The vixen reached the edge of the road leading to the small village in the valley below. Lifting her damp muzzle to probe the gentle breeze rustling in the foliage, she paused before venturing a few steps into the open. The forest was quiet around her, except for the gurgling of a stream alongside the road. However, she was skittish. The always comforting cover of darkness was now retreating rapidly to the relentless onslaught of dawn, signaling that it was time to go back to her den.

The animal was desperately hungry. Her lifelong mate had not returned since her four pups were born a few days ago, and she had been forced to leave them alone to go hunting. They would now be squirming restlessly in their dark underground prison, waiting for their only source of food to return. But the night’s forage had been largely unsuccessful, except for one small crab she caught in the creek. Now there remained only one alternative. She knew that the village outskirts often yielded tidbits to scavenge, but the risk was great.

For a few more moments she hesitated, but then her hunger and maternal instinct overcame fear, impelling her towards the village. However, before she got farther than a few dozen yards, her sharp ears picked up a dull throbbing in the distance that rapidly grew louder. She had seen and heard vehicles before, but this one was different, because the approaching sound now seemed to be thundering from the sky. When a helicopter suddenly swept in over the treetops, swaying them violently and plucking clouds of dust from the road, she instinctively leaped into the air, snarling and snapping at the threatening intruder. But then it was gone. Abandoning her mission to the village, she turned around and bolted back to her den.

*****

Breakfast is ready! Alice Galloway took the last two slices from the toaster and added them to the small stack on the kitchen table. Her husband, David, usually had a good appetite and would probably finish most of it. However, their twelve year-old daughter, Caroline, was just the opposite. She had suddenly become aware of her figure and almost had to be begged to eat, so much so that her parents were beginning to watch her closely for signs of anorexia.

Coming! David called out from the bathroom, where he was washing the last shaving cream from his face. He ran his fingers through his reddish brown, short-cropped hair, even though he knew that it would not make any difference. His hair had always demonstrated a stubborn will of their own.

Where’s Carol? he asked as he sat down at the table.

You know how it is. Alice lifted her shoulders in resignation. She called out again, louder this time.

Caroline! We’re waiting!

Yes, Mom! I’ll be there just now!

David looked at his watch. I’ve got to get moving. There’s a busy day ahead.

Why don’t you just start? She could be ages still.

Okay, if you don’t mind. David bowed his head briefly and then began to butter a slice of toast.

Coffee? Without waiting for his answer, Alice began to pour him a cup, but then paused suddenly, her hand in the air. What is that? It sounds like a helicopter.

You’re right, it is. That’s strange, they’ve never come this way before. David got up and strolled over to the window, toast in hand.

Dad, what is a helicopter doing here? Caroline came running into the kitchen and joined her father at the window.

I don’t know... There it is! David had just spotted the aircraft as it appeared over a hilltop to the south. It rapidly approached them.

It looks like a Bell Huey. The same that I flew back in Miami, only this one is painted in camouflage colors. I guess it belongs to the Colombian Air Force. It’s probably part of Plan Colombia.

They watched as the helicopter flew past their house and then circled over the village of Herrera on the other side of the Hereje River. It then returned and came up the hillside towards them, passing close overhead.

It’s a Bell Huey, all right.

Strange! Why is it circling over the school? said Alice, who had joined them at the window.

I suppose it’s just a security check. You know, after what happened to Brigitte, I guess the army must be stepping up its anti-guerrilla activities.

I sincerely hope you’re right, said Alice. She looked worried.

David finished his toast and gulped down his coffee. Got to go. By eight I must be in the air, otherwise I won’t make it to Ibagué on time. He grabbed another piece of toast without bothering to butter it and embraced his wife and daughter in turn.

Love you! See you tonight.

As he pulled into the road leading down to the village, he spotted a familiar figure walking rapidly towards him. It was his neighbor, dressed as always in his police uniform. David stopped and waited.

Hi, Andrés! Are you going to the police station? Get in!

Andrés opened the door and gratefully got in.

Thanks, David. It’s a good thing you came. I’m in a bit of a hurry today.

Because of the helicopter?

"Yes. Nobody told me anything about it yesterday. I want to contact the army base to find out what it’s all about. They promised us that they’ll let us know when they plan to carry out any military activity in the vicinity of the town."

Do you have the radio frequency of the base?

Yes, of course.

"I’d also like to have it, if I may, for emergencies."

I’ll have to get their authorization to give it to you, but I don’t think it should be a problem. I’ll do it today.

Thanks. I would appreciate it, especially so that our missionaries in Toléma could also have it. 

No problem. And where are you off to today?

I have a flight to Ibagué to fetch Margaret, Jack’s wife. She’s been in hospital with a broken foot. From there I have to take her home to Toléma. And this afternoon, to Medellín where there’s a meeting of some of our directors from the States with local leaders of the BMLA. From there I have to take them to Bogotá to catch a commercial flight back to Miami.

Quite a full day, it seems. Okay, I get off here. Thanks, and I hope your flights are not too turbulent!

Chapter 2

Leaving Andrés at the police station, David drove through the town. A group of boys passed him on their way to the school at the top of the hill, where Alice was an English teacher. Their khaki-colored uniforms proudly displayed a bright rainbow on the badge. Otherwise, hardly a soul stirred at this early hour.

The road left the village and climbed the southern flank of the mountain on the far side, paralleling the river. After about fifteen minutes the Los Guyabos airstrip, built in the 1960ʼs with funding from local coffee growers, came into sight. It was situated on an old, narrow river terrace next to the road, which carried on to Ríoblanco and Chaparral. The 1985-built Twin Otter, used by the BMLA in all their missionary activities in Colombia and neighboring countries, was parked at the far end of the gravel strip.

After removing the engine covers and carrying out the pre-flight checks, David taxied onto the runway. This being an unmanned airstrip, it was enough to simply advise any other air traffic in the vicinity of his intentions. As always, he did it both in English and Spanish, knowing that many local pilots had a deficient knowledge of the compulsory air traffic language.

Herrera traffic, HK-2002-P, is Twin Otter DHC-6-300, taking off on runway 22, Los Guayabos.

He pushed the overhead throttle levers fully forward and the plane rapidly accelerated down the runway. On reaching the 85-knot takeoff speed, he pulled back on the yoke and climbed to 5,000 feet before retracting the flaps. By this time he was almost directly over the village and initiated a sharp circle turn towards the north-northeast.

Herrera traffic, HK-2002-P, at 5,000 feet, climbing to 10,000, heading 03, VFR. 

As he glanced out of the side window, he spotted a camouflaged military truck pulling up to the police station.

Good, Andrés will get his information straight from the horse’s mouth, he thought.

Leaving the village behind, he set the autopilot on course to Ibagué and tuned the radio to the Bogotá Air Traffic Control frequency. ATC Bogotá, HK-2002-P, is Twin Otter DHC-6-300, request flight following.

After a few moments, he was asked to squawk a number on the transponder, which allowed the Bogotá ATC to identify and follow the aircraft on radar. He then relaxed a little. At a cruising speed of 150 knots, the flight would only take about half an hour.

His thoughts went to the directors’ meeting that was due to begin in Medellín in about an hour. He was sure that the main point on the agenda would be the future of the BMLA project in Colombia. Rumors had it that some directors considered complete withdrawal from the country until the security situation improved, and the kidnapping of Brigitte Bertauld, a young medical doctor from Canada, from the Toléma jungle outpost about a month ago had made matters far worse. If the BMLA board of directors decided to withdraw from Colombia, he and his family would either be relocated elsewhere in Latin America or have to return to the United States. He and Alice favored neither of these options. They had been very encouraged by the results of their work among the Spanish and indigenous Pijao people in the Tolima and Huila Departments.

His route traced the course of the road along one of the upper tributaries of the Saldaña River to the village of Ríoblanco, which was soon left behind. Near Chaparral, the road swung to the east, crossing into the main Saldaña River valley, but here he headed straight up a parallel dale leading to the waterfall at San Antonio. From there he entered another northeast-trending valley towards Rovira. Before reaching the latter village, he started his descent into the Perales Airport at Ibagué, which came into view a few minutes later.

Ibagué was one of his favorite airports, with its small, blue-roofed building and the palm trees in front giving it a tropical atmosphere. David started whistling a Caribbean tune as he crossed the ramp.

As he walked into the departure hall, he immediately spotted the elderly, plumpish woman he was looking for, sitting on the far side. Her foot was in plaster and a pair of crutches was leaning on the seat next to her.

There you are! she exclaimed as David approached. On time as always!

Hi, Margaret. Good to see you up and about again. Ready to go?

I ordered our provisions for the month to be delivered by cab to the airport at nine. We’ll have to wait about fifteen minutes, if you don’t mind.

Oh... Okay. I’ll get the flight documents ready in the meantime. But I have to get to Medellín by noon to pick up the directors. They have to catch a flight to Miami from Bogotá at 16:15.

Fortunately, the cab arrived on time, so that David could load the plane while Margaret waited in the hall.

We have to walk a little, I’m afraid. The plane is parked at the far end of the ramp.

No problem. A little exercise will do me good.

Would you like to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, or at the back? said David as they reached the aircraft.

I think there’s more room at the back. I need to stretch out my leg.

David helped her to get into the plane and made sure that her seat-belt was securely fastened. The landing at Toléma was always tricky and he did not want to take any chances.

Chapter 3

Any news about Brigitte? Margaret asked after David had set the autopilot for Toléma, which was situated in the vast outback area southeast of Herrera.

Nothing at all. The FARC could have taken her anywhere into the jungle. No doubt, we’ll hear from them when they try to extort hostage money from us. They always think foreigners are rich and that their family will pay the earth to get their loved ones back.

Well, I don’t know about her family, but there’s not much hope with the BMLA, I’m afraid. Our budget is always stretched. When do you think they will decide our future?

I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s right now, during the meeting. But they will probably keep us in the dark until the big brass in Miami cast their lot as well.

"Well, maybe Jack and I are getting a little old for this, and we have children and grandchildren in the States who would love to have us nearby. But, what will you and Alice do? I suppose you have to think about Caroline’s future education too."

We’d love to stay on, even if Caroline has to go to a boarding school in Medellín or Bogotá.

Poor girl, would you really send her off to a boarding school?

Well, I guess it will be difficult both for her and for us. However, I spent five years in one and survived. My parents had a farm in a very remote part of South Africa near the Zimbabwean border.

Oh, I thought you were American, although I must say I’ve always thought your accent is a little queer.

I’ve never been able to pick up the twang, in spite of trying my best. Alice is American though, and I have also obtained citizenship. But I was actually born in Zimbabwe, before my parents emigrated to South Africa in 1978.

Why did your parents leave Zimbabwe?

Well, towards the end of the bush war my father had to spend every other six weeks in the army, leaving my mom alone with us on the farm. The situation was just too dangerous and farming became almost impossible. Fortunately, he managed to take enough money out of the country to start all over again in South Africa.

And did he do well there?

David remained silent for some time. No, he said at last. He and my mom were axed to death on the farm a few years later. If my younger brother and I had not been at boarding school, I wouldn’t be talking to you today.

Margaret gasped. I’m so sorry! That must have been very traumatic. Is that why you emigrated to the States?

No. After school I joined the South African Air Force and spent five years flying choppers. Then I met Alice, who was doing missionary work on the Cape Flats near Cape Town. We got married in 1988 and two years later moved to the States. We joined the BMLA in 1994 and after a Spanish course in Puerto Rico were transferred to Colombia.

And your brother? What happened to him?

Well, he always loved hunting and fishing. Ever since he was a small boy he used to go out into the bush with my father. He presently runs a safari outfit operating in Tanzania. Most of his clients are wealthy Americans.

David spotted the Toléma landing strip ahead, which was just visible among the trees. It could only be approached from one end of the valley, regardless of the wind direction, as the runway stopped at a steep incline on the other side.

After informing the Bogotá ATC of his intention to land, he tuned the radio frequency to that of Toléma, but there was no response.

Strange, Jack does not answer. He must be having some problem with the radio. I’ll do a quick fly-over to see if the runway is clear.

Keeping a safe altitude to enable him to do a turnaround at the far end of the runway, he flew along the latter.

That must be Jack. He heard us, he said as a man emerged from one of the small, thatched-roof buildings next to the runway and waved at them.

David switched the radio off. Hang on. Here we go.

Margaret gripped her seat and closed her eyes. She knew that they had to land the first time round, because there was no room for an overshoot.

David let out the flaps and reduced the speed to just above stalling. The landing strip was not only short, even for a Twin Otter, but had a 12° incline up-valley. The plane skimmed the treetops at the end of the strip and he lowered the nose rapidly once they were cleared, then pulled back sharply on the yoke when the runway slipped into view underneath. The plane entered a stall with its wheels just above the ground, but they landed just before the nose could drop. David applied full reverse thrust and as much brake as he could safely do without the plane flipping over. They came to a stop with about a third of the runway length still available.

I don’t know how you do it, David. But thank you, Lord! Margaret said, letting out a sigh of relief.

David turned the plane around and taxied back to where Jack was waiting for them next to the runway. Behind him, half hidden among the trees, was the compact, thatch-roofed outpost that served as a field hospital and community center for the indigenous Pijao people of a small settlement nearby. Next to it was a similar, smaller adobe building with a veranda, where Jack and Margaret lived. The latter, being a trained nurse, could attend to many medical emergencies, but with the abduction of Brigitte, their only doctor, their services had to be curtailed sharply.

Hi Jack! I brought you a present!

About time! I have been starving on my own cooking!

Although Jack was an outstanding handyman who could fix anything from gas ovens to the electrical installations run from six solar panels, he was a self-confessed, lousy cook. That seemed to be confirmed by his rake-thin body and hawkish face.

They helped Margaret to the shady veranda in front of their house.

Would you like to stay for lunch? she asked.

Depends on whether you or your husband does the cooking, said David, winking at Jack.

I never cook when Margaret is at home, so don’t worry, said Jack, smiling.

I’ll gladly make us something to eat, but I will need help from you two. I can’t stand for long before getting tired.

No, really, thank you. I was only joking. I need to get back into the air. The directors have to be in Bogotá by 13:45 at the latest, and I still have to unload your provisions from Ibagué.

Ah, if you’re going to Bogotá, could you please get me a few transistors? The radio blew one last night and I have no more left.

Oh, so that was the reason why I couldn’t contact you just now. Okay, no problem.

Let me help you unload, offered Jack. After all, it’s our food and stuff.

They went over to the plane and David got in, handing the bags and boxes down to Jack.

That’s it... Thanks! David closed the passenger door, shook Jack’s hand and waved to Margaret, who was leaning on her crutches at the entrance to their house. She waved back.

The takeoff was a little easier than the landing, as the plane was somewhat lighter now and it was downhill this time, so that it gathered speed faster. Even so, it cleared the trees at the far end of the strip with only a few feet to spare.

Chapter 4

Pamela, aged eleven, finished her arepas con hogao and picked up the small leather knapsack she used to carry her lunch to school.

Has Dad gone already? she asked her mother, who was sorting the washing for the day.

Twenty minutes ago, said Consuelo, looking at the clock on the wall. He left early when the helicopter appeared, because he wanted to find out what was happening.

Well, I’ll see him tonight then. Bye Mom!

Pamela kissed her mother and skipped down the footpath to the gravel road below, which wound up the hill to the right of their house. It ended at a yellow-painted, boxy building with a stubby tower overlooking the valley, serving both as a school and a church.

Her best friend, Caroline, whom she had known since she was four years old, came walking up the road with her mother, who was the English teacher at the evangelical missionary school.

Hi, Pammy!

Hi, Carol! Good morning, Miss Galloway!

As they had been doing over the last six years, they walked  together, discussing the latest events.

Did you hear the helicopter? asked Pamela.

Yes, I saw it coming up from the village and circling over the school. My Dad said it’s a Bell Huey. He used to fly them in the States.

We think that it may be part of Plan Colombia, said Alice. Although they knew that a temporary army base had been set up about twenty miles further south, it was the first time that military activity was actually observed in their immediate vicinity. In a sense this was good news, because the presence of soldiers at least afforded some security to their district.

While the two girls continued their conversation, Alice was lost in thought. She could not help being deeply concerned about their future work in the area. The abduction of Brigitte would undoubtedly sway the directors’ decision if they had harbored any doubt about closing the mission. Even though the remaining missionaries had all voiced their willingness to stay in the area despite the danger, the final decision would depend on a small group of people who had very little direct contact with the local population.

Alice and David were in fact considering the possibility of staying on even if it meant resigning from the BMLA. David could easily get work again as a pilot, as he had earned thousands of flying hours both with fixed- and rotary-wing aircraft in the South African Air Force and subsequently with a charter company in the United States. In his years as a missionary pilot he had also developed much sought-after skills on rough and dangerous airstrips. Because the town was about four hours by road from Bogotá, it would be feasible even to commute home from there over weekends if necessary. His income would enable Alice to carry on at the school, which was otherwise unlikely to survive with the loss of its BMLA backing and some of its most dedicated teachers.

They arrived at the building, where a group of boys were already playing soccer. It was a rough-and-tumble business, often leading to scratched knees and bruised elbows. The girls sat huddled in small clusters, watching the boys and whispering animatedly.

Good morning, Miss Galloway! they shouted as their favorite teacher came closer.

Good morning, children. Although Alice spoke Spanish quite well after all these years, she insisted on speaking English to her pupils, even outside the classroom.

At 8:00 a.m. sharp the school bell rang and the boys had to interrupt their game until lunch break. As always when they had mixed classes, Pamela shared a desk with Caroline. Her friend was a year older, but the school had a lack of space and considered it good for the younger children to be exposed to more advanced material. The first lesson of the day was English.

Now, children, you had a task for today. Who can tell me what happened to Huckleberry Finn when he pretended to be a girl?

When nobody reacted, Pamela raised her hand, even though she was not yet at that level and it was not expected of her to have studied the chapter.

He was caught out lying, she said. Mrs. Loftus threw something at him and he caught it between his knees, instead of catching it in his skirt as a girl would do.

Very good, Pamela. And how else did she catch him out...Daniela?

She asked him...

Daniela got no further, as shots suddenly rang out in the village below. The children looked anxiously at each other, stunned to silence because they all knew what that could mean. Alice was momentarily caught off balance. Then she took a deep breath and continued with the lesson.

Daniela...you were saying...

The next moment the classroom door burst open and two men in green jungle uniforms charged in, swinging their rifles. Their faces were covered with scarves.

Get down, everybody! they shouted.

Most children dropped to the floor, but Pamela was too shocked to move. When one of the men ran up to her, his scarf slipped off and she looked into one of the most evil faces she had ever seen. He had a balding forehead, a slightly crooked nose, and a prominent scar on his left cheek. Then she was flung violently to the floor. Alice, outraged, desperately tried to intervene, but was brutally knocked down with the butt of the man’s rifle.

The men began to select some of the older children, roughly plucking them up from the floor and herding them together at the entrance. They included girls.

Let’s go! Quickly!

The children were driven outside like frightened sheep to where an open truck was waiting, engine running.

Get in!

Within minutes the FARC rebels drove off with their latest batch of recruits. At the village police station, which was in flames, they were joined by three other armed men.

Alice was first to get up from the floor, anxiously looking for Caroline. She was gone.

Chapter 5

The flight to Medellín lasted just over an hour, because the Palo Negro Airport was unusually busy and David had to circle for a while before getting permission to land. Then he had to wait for ten minutes on the taxiway for two larger airliners ahead of him to be assigned their gate numbers. At last he could park the plane and cross over to the terminal building.

There you are! You’re late! Doctor Morgan Campbell separated himself from the small huddle of men standing in the middle of the departure hall and briskly walked over to meet David halfway. His gray, bushy eyebrows were raised questioningly, framing a pair of penetrating blue eyes.

I’m sorry. I got held up on the taxiway. But we can go immediately.

David greeted each of the three other board members in turn and then led the way to the ramp.

The flight to Bogotá shouldn’t take longer than about 20 minutes, but it all depends on the air traffic. 

You should have left Herrera earlier, said Doctor Campbell. You know we cannot afford to miss our flight to Miami.

I also had other flights this morning, David replied, trying not to sound irritated. He hated being treated like a schoolboy and had never gotten along very well with Doctor Campbell, who had a rather dominating personality.

How is Alice? asked Ken Brown, falling in beside him. He was a far more likable character.

She’s very happy with her progress. The kids are learning well.

And spiritually?

We have seen quite a few conversions. The congregation is still small, but growing steadily.

I’m glad to hear that, said Ken, glancing at the others. They remained silent.

David wondered whether he should ask them straight out what they had decided at the meeting, but then decided against it. They were obviously not keen to talk.

Please keep you safety belts fastened, he reminded them when all were settled in their seats.  It looks like we’ll meet some thunderclouds on the way.

*****

Well, have a safe trip. David stood watching as the board members started towards customs. Then Doctor Campbell suddenly stopped and turned around.

Oh, I almost forgot. Your wife phoned our secretary in Medellín this morning and asked that you contact her.

This morning? She would only have phoned if it was something urgent. Why didn’t you tell me? He suddenly had an ominous feeling that something serious had happened.

We had very important matters to discuss, said Doctor Campbell, half annoyed. He brusquely turned around and followed the others through the customs gate.

David looked at his watch. It was almost 14:30. Even though the flight to Herrera would take less than an hour, he still had to get the transmitters for Jack. That would require at least an hour. He walked over to a public phone and dialed his home number. However, there was no response.

He went outside and got a cab into town.

*****

As soon as David got out of the congested airspace around Bogotá, he tuned the radio to the Toléma frequency. The radio they had at home in Herrera was always set to the same bandwidth.

Attention, Herrera.

Alice answered immediately. She sounded distressed.

David! Why didn’t you return my call this morning?

They didn’t tell me you phoned until we got to Bogotá. What happened?

It’s Caroline! The FARC attacked the school this morning and abducted her!

What? David felt the blood draining from his face.

It’s terrible! They took seven of the older children. And they killed Andrés and Jaime, setting fire to the police station.

Good Lord, what are you telling me! ...Okay, hang on. Just stay calm. I’ll be home in about forty minutes. You can tell me everything when I get there.

*****

David listened, ashen-faced, while Alice told him the details of the attack. She had just started her first English lesson of the day when they heard shots down in the village, and then two armed men barged into