Open Pit Read Online Free PDF Page A

much bigger than a child’s, slowly down the lapel of his cheap jacket. He always speaks in general terms about his tactics, has ever since Mitch hired his fledgling firm, MaxSeguro, in ’ 96 to clear out squatters from the site of the future mine. Sobero did a fast, thorough job, but never specified his methods.
    Mitch looks towards Carlos, who’s returning from escorting the photographer towards the guard assigned to see him out. Mitch meets Carlos halfway and slaps him on the back in gratitude. The photo shoot was Carlos’s idea. The newspaper the photographer works for has the largest daily circulation in El Salvador. Carlos has known him for years and managed to talk him into driving up from the capital. Genius!
    â€œLet’s get some air,” says Mitch, grinning, guiding his friend to the door of the helicopter and stepping up after him. Belting in, Mitch experiences a sharp anticipatory thrill. He loves aerial tours. Sure, they’re costly. But this is Carlos’s first visit to Mil Sueños . It would be rude not to take him around in style, exactly as the newspaper will report.
    The pilot starts his engine and a deep buzz builds to a high-pitched squeal above them as the blades begin to turn. Mitch puts on his headset. He glances towards Sobero, who is still on the tarmac, his hands clasped behind his back, looking put out. Sobero can be loyal to a fault. Last night, on the drive to the mine, he peppered his conversation with unflattering anecdotes about Carlos Reyes: Carlos’s history with women. His conniving politics. The unsavoury elements behind the new centrist political party, the Democratic Alliance, or DAP , that Carlos will represent if he runs in the next Salvadoran elections. Mitch took it all with a grain of salt. Sobero doesn’t seem to get how important Carlos will be to the future of the mine if he wins a seat — for any party. Then, this morning, Sobero had the gall to suggest that Mitch should cancel Carlos’s visit altogether for security reasons. Mitch told him to get a grip. Carlos Reyes is more than a contact. He’s a friend.
    Now Sobero’s thin hair sweeps up into a pointed triangle as dust swirls around him. He remains on guard, looking rather puny, as they lift off. Mitch considers the final bit of gossip he pieced out about Carlos last night. “You know, Jefe, Señor Reyes has a unique history with helicopters? He enjoys shooting them out of the sky.” When Mitch, stunned, asked Sobero to please expand, Sobero shook his head, blowing off the question, saying it was just an old war tale. Mitch didn’t press. He sympathizes with Sobero’s aversion to people, like Carlos, who’ve done so well since the Salvadoran war, even though they were once gun-wielding Marxists, while Sobero’s own career was snuffed out because of some bogus allegations of war crimes. But as they leave the ground, Mitch wishes he’d asked for details. Carlos shot down an actual helicopter! That can’t be easy. Especially considering the other tidbit Sobero passed along just before Carlos arrived: “He’ll flaunt his bravado, ” Sobero predicted, exaggerating the word. “But Señor Reyes has a fear of flying. Poor man.”
    â€œDoing alright, there?” Mitch asks Carlos now, seeing sweat bead along the rim of his friend’s helmet.
    â€œFine, thank you.”
    â€œWe’ll just do a quick go-round,” Mitch assures him. He figures that if what Sobero says is true, getting airborne might actually help Carlos. No one can afford to indulge fear. If Carlos is going to get into politics, he’ll definitely have to leave his comfort zone.
    After lift-off they hover a moment above the boxcar-like portables housing NorthOre’s offices. As the helicopter’s nose straightens, Carlos wraps his fingers under the edge of his seat, his arms straight as boards. Mitch taps him on one taut shoulder and