"My name is Xavier Ortiz, I am a journalist." I looked at Colonel Rodriguez standing in front of me, it wasn't just the jungle green uniform that scared me or the machine pistol he held so casually, its barrel pointed directly at my forehead, it was the look in his eyes that really had me worried. I could see that he didn't believe me even though he had my passport and travel papers in his other hand.
"I disagree with you Senor, you are not who you say that you are, you are not Xavier Ortiz and you are not a journalist."
"But you have my passport that says that I am, you have my visa and travel papers that say that I am Xavier Ortiz, journalist and that I am here in your country to interview Senora Mendez again for my newspaper."
"I am aware Senor that these documents all tell me that this is who you claim to be but these papers are false and I know for a fact that you are not who you claim to be."
"There is one way that we can settle this, I have interviewed Senora Mendez in the past and she has agreed for me to interview her again. In my attaché case you will find a copy of my previous interviews with her, they have my by-line and my picture, if you need further proof if you would call her she will verify that I am who I say that I am." I was playing my last card here and if he didn't get her or she refused to back me up I don't know where I will end up, probably in some jungle camp while they tap the paper for a ransom which was more profitable to them than a firing squad, at least I hoped so.
I guess that I should explain just how I found myself in this situation. It all began some eighteen months ago in Italy, Milan to be specific.
Carmen Mendez was at the time of that interview Carmen Chavez, the daughter of El Presidente, Joachim Chavez, of this god forsaken Central American country. Carmen was a young opera singer and had just begun a season as Mimi in La Boheme at La Scala. There were rumours that had spread around Milan about the tension between Carmen and her co-star. Rumours had started after her rehearsal performance and she was being hailed as possibly the best Mimi yet, even better than Callas and that pissed off the famous tenor who was singing Rodolfo. My paper saw the newsworthiness of this situation and sent me to interview her even though I knew little about opera, I guess that they figured I'd not be overawed by her co-star's massive physical stature and reputation and produce a piece slanted in his favour. After several days of intensive coaching on the finer points of the soprano's art and that opera in particular I was let loose on her.
Expecting a Prima Donna performance from her I was surprised at her reservation, she appeared shy and distracted during the interview in her dressing room after her debut performance. "Signorina Chavez, first of all let me congratulate you on your magnificent performance, never have I heard Mimi sung with such conviction, you were Mimi." I was telling the truth when I said that, I had never heard Mimi before, but the raw emotion of her performance really moved me.
"Thank you Signor, it is unusual for a journalist who is not a theatre critic to appreciate opera." I hoped that she didn't know of my reputation as a theatre critic which probably helped me get this job.
"Signorina Chavez I have been told that a voice such as yours has to be a natural gift. When did you first realize you had such a magnificent voice?"
"Please, you may call me Carmen. It was when I was at school, I studied music and would sing at any opportunity and my teacher convinced my parents that I should attend the opera school here at La Scala."
"If you allow me to call you Carmen then you must call me Xavier, it is only fair. A natural voice is just a part of the opera singer's skill, you have to be able to drag the audience into the part, and you have done that here."
"You are not a fan of opera? I sense that you have had coaching on the questions that you have to ask, do you have a favourite opera or aria?"
She was putting me on the spot here, I could plead total ignorance or come up with an answer that would explain my limited knowledge. "You are right, I'm not a fan of opera, the vision of some middle-aged pouter pigeon soprano trying to pass herself off in the ingénue role of Juliet in Romeo and Juliet is a farce. Having said that I do have a couple of favourite arias, the first is the 'Flower Duet' from Delibes' Lakme and the second is 'In the depths of the temple' from the Pearl Fishers and both for the same reason."
"And what is that?"
"The harmonies, they are duets and when done well like when the singers harmonize rather than sing it as two solos, both of these arias send tingles up my spine, when performed at less than perfect they leave me cold like most other arias."
"I congratulate you, you are not one of these people who attend the opera to be seen but you do appreciate the finer points of the operatic art. I see that I must educate you further." She smiled when she said that and I was captivated by this woman.
"I got the impression that your Rodolfo was not happy with you, he tried to upstage you at the end of act three by standing a little behind you so that you were not facing the audience as you sang, but you ignored this and sang as you should."
"I hope that you were in the minority who noticed this. Most of the people in the audience had come to hear him sing not me so they took little notice of what he did."
"Is the role of Mimi your favourite?"
She thought about this for a while before answering.
"Each role I sing is my favourite at the time that I sing it otherwise I cannot do it justice."
My next question was prompted by the real reason that I was here. "How long do you intend to keep singing as a career?"
She looked sharply at me as if to try to understand my motive. "I would like to continue singing for many years but my being the daughter of the president of my country bears with it certain responsibilities."
I switched off my tape recorder. "This is off the record and what you tell me stays with me, I will repeat it to no-one and it will not be a part of the interview that I publish. I understand that you are to return to your country as soon as this season is finished to marry the son of your father's best friend. I also understand that you are not happy with this arrangement but have no choice in the matter because if you don't your mother will be harmed and badly. You don't have to answer me, just nod if what I say is true." Her nod was almost imperceptible and anyone watching from a distance of more than ten metres would not have seen it. "Is there some way that I can see you without your bodyguard knowing of it?"
"That is impossible, they follow me wherever I go, and they are outside this room now. I don't know how it is that you were able to interview me alone at this time, but to be alone with you again will be impossible."
"But I must speak to you alone and I am taking a chance doing it now but I have something to tell you that is important to you. For now we must return to the interview." I switched the recorder back on. "I understand that you have been offered the opportunity of singing the Mimi role at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in three month's time, will you do it?"
"No I cannot, I have to return to my country, there is a presidential election coming up and part of my father's campaign is that I am to be married to the son of his friend Juan Mendez, the joining of these two families will give a strong indication to the world of stability in my country."
"You don't. . . ." She held up her hand to stop my question. "think that you will be returning to the opera stage in the near future?"
"I think not, my duty is to my country and duty comes before pleasure, I'm sure that you must understand this."
Oh I understood this well enough. I took a slip of paper that I had prepared from my pocket and held it in the palm of my hand. "That will be all for today but I would like to interview you again in one week's time to see how you are feeling after a week of performing this demanding role if that is agreeable to you and your people." I stood in the passage outside her door and held my hand out to her. She felt the paper and closed her hand over it as my hand left hers. It was now up to her.
As I left her dressing room I was approached by one of the bodyguards and ordered to follow him to a room at the end of the hallway. With little ceremony I was shoved inside and told to sit down in a chair fronting a desk behind which a man sat. "Senor Ortiz, your recorder if you please." I took it out of my pocket and passed it over. He pressed the 'play' button and listened to the whole interview, rewound it and played it until he came to the place where I had switched it off. "There is a gap in the interview here, why is that?"
"I felt a coughing fit coming on so I turned it off until the need to cough went away."
There was a knock on the door and a man entered, he walked around the desk and whispered in the ear of the other man who nodded that he understood the message. "It would seem that you free to go and Senorita Chavez has agreed to see you next week so until then it is good-bye."
Free, that's a joke, I was followed out of the building and back to the newspaper office and when I got back to my hotel room I was aware that it had been searched, they were taking no chances.
The next morning I was prepared for my meeting with Carmen without knowing if she was going to turn up. If she followed her instructions she would meet me at a small café around the corner at eleven, if she didn't I would receive a phone call from one of my accomplices telling me that she wouldn't be showing up.
At twenty to eleven a well dressed woman entered a large department store and walked briskly to the ladies fashion section. Here she chose several dresses and walked to the change rooms, nothing unusual about that apart from the fact that she was followed into the store by two men and a woman. The men stood as unobtrusively as man can stand in a women's fashion department, some twenty feet away casually looking over the perfumes while the woman stood outside the passage way to the change rooms.
Carmen stripped off her clothes and began to try on the dresses she had chosen. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at the dress, she would never buy something like this unless it was for a man that she loved, it showed too much of her breasts and the skirt was close fitting over her slender hips and finished about half-way between her hips and knees with a slit up one side that almost reached her hip. Her parents would die if they saw her wearing it even after she married.
As she was looking at her reflection a woman slipped into the change room. "Nice dress, you should buy it. You are Carmen?" On receiving the acknowledgement the woman stripped off the Nike track suit that she was wearing and handed it to Carmen who quickly put it on along with the sneakers, sunglasses and cap. "You know what to do? You walk out of here, turn right and a block down you turn right again. He is waiting for you."
"But what about my bodyguards, how do I get passed them?"
"They are being taken care of."
In the store the two men had been attracted by the woman who was bent over the jewellery cabinet looking at the necklaces and ear-rings. She was bent far enough over the counter that a large amount of breast was visible. Both men were transfixed by the sight and, as she moved around the display cabinet, slowly edged their way to the side so that they could get a better view. The woman bodyguard was trying to attract their attention and tell them to focus on the job at hand. They ignored her to the point that she had to walk over to them, it was then that the woman at the counter pressed a button in her hand, sending a signal to her partner in the change room. "Quickly, walk out of here as if you were walking on stage at one of your operas, I'll follow shortly."
Carmen walked from the store and minutes later sat across the table from me in the café. "Who are you? You are not just a journalist are you?"
