"Mr. Victor, the trees have been dug up. The monument is erected. The people, I remember them. The bridge, you hold on to it."
He folded the letter neatly and slipped it into his pocket, right alongside the white flag.
He picked up the walkie-talkie.
"Patch me through to Mexico City."
The phone rang once before being answered. It was Victor's voice on the other end.
"Lieutenant."
"Leader, Hafez Assad has written again. Says the trees are dug up, the monument is erected, the people remembered. The bridge, let us keep it."
Victor was silent for three seconds. "The letter?"
"In my possession."
"Keep it. Along with that blood-stained paper. Use it when the time comes."
The call ended.
Alvarez stood there, holding the phone, listening to the busy signal in the receiver. The fog over the lake began to clear, a line of golden light emerging from behind the eastern hills, scattering into a sheet of golden stars on the water.
