Open Pit by Marguerite Pigeon Page B

chatted with Keil, at some event for Canadian businesses abroad. In that gruff voice, everything is a lecture.
    â€œSome would say it’s the price of doing business in markets like this one, that are, otherwise, very cost-effective,” she adds.
    â€œWe’re launching a multi-million-dollar expansion,” says Mitch, trying to put across the simple truth of what’s at stake. “This month.”
    â€œThe abduction has posed some extreme challenges for everyone,” says Keil, stubbornly neutral. “And as the owner of the property, it’s within your rights to refuse this exhumation. Regardless of consequences.”
    Mitch questions his decision to ask for this meeting. Keil is about as pliable as a brick. He searches for a new tack. “The reason I came by is I felt we should speak face to face about the police. I know Captain Hernández comes off a little strong. But I have it on good authority that the anti-kidnapping unit really is ready to end this at a moment’s notice without any danger to anyone.” The mention of Hernández seems to freeze Keil’s facial muscles. With concern? “I know that’s not your preferred option,” Mitch says, guessing. “But there’s no need to let a dangerous situation linger either —”
    â€œNo one in this embassy wants the abduction to last even one minute longer,” says Keil, jumping on his last word. “Nor do we control how the local police react. As the Captain has made clear, it’s his jurisdiction. But hasty action in cases like these is always risky, as past examples in this country have shown.”
    â€œBut no risk, no reward, right?” says Mitch, smiling.
    Keil furrows her brow. “Mr. Wall, are you aware that some of the families of the hostages are travelling to San Salvador because they want to show how important it is to resolve the abduction safely? Maybe you would consider meeting them, hearing their point of view about the exhumation.”
    Mitch tries to look regretful. “That would be great. But I’ve been advised by my legal team not to speak directly to anyone so close to the kidnapping. For my own safety.” Mitch’s PR people did get a couple of calls about the families, but Mitch has no interest in having parents bawling in his office over something he can’t do anything about. He’s not the one who took their kids hostage. “I sincerely hope everyone is reunited,” he goes on, illustrating his hope by weaving together the fingers on both his hands. “At the same time, these families can’t possibly keep perspective on the demands. They’ve been put in an impossible position. Your own office has a travel warning in place. People have to know what they’re getting into when they leave Canada to fraternize with — well, we all know that group in Los Pampanos, that ‘Committee,’ is a fringe organization. Who’s to say they didn’t invite the delegation here expressly to stage this kidnapping? In the end, this is a police matter.”
    â€œI understand your point of view. And I will express it to Foreign Affairs as we go forward. But until we can come to a resolution, we need the police to stay in dialogue with all parties, rather than stepping in too soon,” says Keil in a new tone, which sounds to Mitch like someone trowelling mortar, adding a layer to a tall wall. She rises with her hand extended.
    Mitch stares at it from his low chair, his lips pressed together. Bad words are straining to get out. For the moment Keil can afford to look down at him, watching as he swallows them back.

    3:10 PM . Morazán
    They are nearly at the campsite — today, a dank, earthen cave. Danielle hurries towards it through the trees. Earlier, she recognized small piles of guano in that cave. When night falls, the bats will descend. Danielle doesn’t want any delay in leaving for their night’s walk