A Short Story from Peru

My arrival at Restaurante Don Piero was quite unusual . Why just last month I was running across Europe for my life. A plane brought me to Cuzco, and a 10 hour train ride brought me to this restaurant in Puno, on the edge of Lake Titicaca. I sit this first night at a table sipping a pisco sour with the chief of police in these parts. He is a portly man with short cropped hair and a jolly smile. He wears no side arm but has a number of auto-weapons, as he calls them, in his truck. I think he could intimidate a priest into dropping his bible, though tonight he is in a fine mood.

"The trouble with me is that I have grown fat," he complains as he pats his rather large belly.
"No no! Not at all," I reply on cue.
"No, It is true. The problem is that there is very little excitement nowadays. What we need is a guerilla movement or a re-insurgence of the shinning path."
"Oh!" I nod noting his odd look of contentment.
"Those were the days," he sighs.
"What did you do during those years?" I ask hesitantly.
"Why I was a commander of a very special until!" he brags, taking a long drink of pisco.
"What is it you did?" I push.
"We were responsible for relaying dis-information.
"Between whom?" I am honestly curious at this point.
"Various secret agencies."
"Were you successful?" I inquire.
"Extremely!"
"What type of dis-information would you relay?" I ask.
"That I would not know. My secretary took care of that." He takes another long pull from his dwindling pint of pisco.
"Ah," I reply. "Did you see any action with the rebel groups?"
"No. That is why we were so successful. They never even came close to us. They feared us!" His smile has a hint of evil in it, mixed with envy and confusion.
"Because…"
"Because of all the dis-information! Have you not been listening?"
"Of course. And the arrest of Guzman…" I ask, trying to drag a little more information out of him.
"Who?"
"Guzman. The leader of the Shinning Path movement."
"Oh, that… well…" he stutters.
"Wasn't that important?" I ask incredulously.
"No." he frowns.
"No? Why not?" I ask, being myself now in a state of confusion.
"We had them on the run already."
"Dis-information?" I take a long drink from my own glass of pisco.
"Yes!" he snaps. I pause for a moment. Seeing my look of puzzlement he continues: "That is why I got promoted. Now I am in charge of all the various secret agencies."
"What will you do about Montesinos? Was he really paying a bribe to the opposition party?"
"That my friend is the pinnacle of our campaign of dis-information." He is gloating at this point.
"So it is not true?"
"I did not say that."
"So it is then?"
"I did not say that either," he chuckles.
"So what will happen?"
"We will hold elections soon," he smiles. "People have already asked me to run."

He sits back resting his hands on his growing stomach, "and that is why I will continue to grow fat."