Twisted Path Read Free Page B

squeeze off a burst, toppling the gaily dressed shoppers into ragged, oozing heaps. Raul had gotten into the act as well, throwing sticks of dynamite like firecrackers along both sides of the street, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake. This was the enemy, the privileged class. All wealth was theft, Marx had said, and as far as the Indians were concerned, there were no civilians and no truce in their war of liberation.
    Almost as though they had crossed into another country, the character of the street changed, even as it narrowed to a mean little avenue. Now there were only small vendors and fruit sellers, tiny dress stores that sold rough woven shawls and ponchos.
    The Indians housed their weapons. They were back among their people.
    * * *
    "Tell me, General Palma, what would you have me do? Let me guess. You think that the time has come when I should give up my position and turn the country over to a military dictatorship in other words, to you." President Alan Garcia sat back in his chair, idly tapping a pencil on his desktop.
    He knew that random noises irritated the general.
    General Arturo Palma, chief commander of the Peruvian military police, didn't bother to protest. He was well-known as the strongest advocate of law and order in the country. His ferocity and outright brutality in suppressing political unrest had made him many powerful friends.
    There were enemies, of course, but the general dismissed them as either jealous or part of the bleeding left.
    Palma had risen through the ranks rapidly, and now thought of himself as the best man to save his country from the increasing trend to violence of the warring political factions. He didn't trouble to conceal his good opinion of himself.
    "Mr. President, these are difficult times, as we both know. The radical left is ready to cause trouble any time. Incidents of violence are escalating rapidly. Two days ago the Shining Path killed nearly fifty people and wounded five times as many in those two attacks. Now not even your own ministers are safe. There can be no accommodation with these terrorists. They seek only one thing: the overthrow of the state by force. Only a strong central government can prevent this, one that is prepared to meet violence on its own terms. National security cannot be compromised for the sake of personal freedoms, which would certainly disappear if the terrorists ever took power." Palma paused, pleased with his own rhetoric.
    "Very touching, General. Quite suitable for the presidential campaign. One might think that if the Shining Path did not exist, you would have to invent them." Garcia held up his hand at the stormy look clouding Palma's aristocratic face. "No disrespect intended, of course, General. But tell me, why are you sure that it was the Shining Path?"
    "I am positive that they are behind this outrage. The four terrorists killed were Indians, who, as you know, comprise the majority of the group. Bloody, senseless attacks are their trademark. The only new feature was the use of some modern weapons."
    "General, have you obtained any further information on those weapons they used? It would be catastrophic if the Shining Path was able to obtain that kind of firepower in quantity."
    Palma consulted some notes stretched before him.
    "The M-16 we recovered was part of a shipment from the U.S. for Turkey that never arrived. It was diverted while en route. We believe that the attack on the minister of the interior involved a U.S.-made rocket called a Stingshot. How the Path got one is anyone's guess." Garcia, disturbed by this information, got up from his desk and began to pace restlessly, hands clasped behind his back, chin thrust toward the floor.
    "The CIA, General. Could they be behind this? I have never been very popular with the Americans, especially since I limited repayment to those damnable foreign banks and nationalized our own. Some say the Americans hate a man who costs them money more than one who disagrees with them over