Stories published in my book "Para Vivir Seguros" (2005) If you missed the previous story, here it is: #572746

Even if they had a lot of experience in this type of thing, whenever the moment of action arrived, tension, fear and nerves arose. The command of the Colombian subversive group ELN, two men and two women, had been in Ecuador for three days. With false identities they crossed the border, separately, in Tulcán. They met in a hotel room with their contact, Commander Facundo, an experienced Colombian urban guerrilla who was in charge of kidnapping operations in the region. He gave them Ecuadorian identity documents, gave them information on the objective, the plans for the operation, showed them maps, photographs, and the keys to two vehicles, previously stolen and arranged for the work they were going to do. The next day, aboard one of the cars, a Swift, one of the couples took the road to Ibarra and then they arrived at a small town. They had no difficulty in locating their victim's residence, they made a single tour, familiarizing themselves with the streets, addresses, exit routes, they had a coffee and ate ham pastries. Although they were discreet, they knew that in the small town they would attract attention. At the bakery they let it slip that they were coming from Quito and that they were negotiating a property. They took the road back to Tulcán. A police checkpoint surprised them when they passed a curve, but they showed their false documents, both personal and vehicle documents, an agent asked them to open the suitcase, checked it, and they passed without any major problems. They met with their companions at a hotel in Tulcán. At seven at night a man from Commander Facundo showed up in one of the rooms. They ordered sandwiches and beers. The liaison took out of his executive briefcase two Browning 9 millimeter pistols and two .38 caliber revolvers, a cell phone with batteries and a car charger and gave them money for hotel expenses and unforeseen expenses that might arise. Now, three of them were lying in wait, weapons ready, at seven in the morning, observing their victim's villa in the small town where he resided.. As they had been informed, at fifteen minutes past seven, the gate to the villa's parking lot opened. A Bronco truck came out, driven by a woman, with two children on board. Three blocks later, the Swift cut off and lightly hit the truck's fender. The lady got out to see the damage. At that moment, one of the members of the ELN commando, who was stationed at the site, approached and put the gun to the woman's chest. They forced her to return to her vehicle. One of the women in the group also got into the truck. They forced the woman to return to her house. -Are you Mrs. Eufelia Quiñones? -Yes... But what do they want? Take the truck, but leave the children... -Shut your mouth. Is your husband at home? -Yes... Please, let us go... -Is your husband Ramiro Quiñones? -Yes, for God's sake, but what the hell is all this? Followed by the Swift, they entered the fifth. They quickly closed the door. Pointing guns at the lady and the children, two of them The men entered the house, while the woman kept watch outside. They had no difficulty in subduing the industrialist Ramiro Quiñones. They found him in his room, lying on the bed, indoors, watching the news on television. Surprised and scared, the man did not oppose and could not do anything against the two armed men, with hoods over their heads, who broke into his bedroom. The group leader called his contact on his cell phone to report that they had the objective under control. They proceeded to the second part of the plan. Strongly tied and gagged, the industrialist was forced to get into the suitcase of the Swift. The leader of the group and one of the kidnappers left in that car. The third member of the command remained in the house. He locked Eufelia Quiñones, the two children and the servant in the cupboard. His mission was to keep them detained for four hours, so that his companions could leave without problems. In a secluded place, a few kilometers from the town, the Swift crew met the fourth member of the command. He had the Van equipped to transport the victim. They took the industrialist Ramiro Quiñones to the hiding place under one of the rear seats and heavily sedated. They abandoned the first vehicle. They made a new cell phone call to report compliance with this phase of the operation. The head of the command and one of the women got into the Van. The other man headed towards the border and calmly crossed into Colombia. The Van headed to Tulcán and then took a small road. Instead of quickly crossing the nearby border, the plans called for delivering the merchandise in a distant area, but more within reach of the guerrilla fronts that operated in the border jungles of Putumayo. The criminals knew that the alarm would not be raised within four hours and that, when that happened, the search would focus on the border crossings in Tulcán or the province of Canchi. Two army checkpoints and another police checkpoint passed without problems.

They made a new call and twenty minutes later, on the banks of a small river, they met another ELN team. A vegetable truck, manned by two men. They moved the victim, almost unconscious due to the hours of immobility, to another hiding place in the truck. They handed over their weapons and cell phone and began a long trip to Quito. There they would leave the Van and fly to Bogotá. The truck began its journey. At that moment, the kidnapper who was holding the Quiñones family left the house in the family's Bronco truck. He left them tied up and locked in the cupboard. He quickly arrived in Tulcán, abandoned the vehicle and crossed the border. The truck passed a military checkpoint and small towns without problems. They traveled several kilometers of the highway parallel to the border. They entered a wooded area through a spike. They waited. An hour later, two uniformed men emerged from the jungle, armed with G3 and AKM assault rifles. They greeted each other, verified that everything was in order. Then the bulk of the column appeared. A dozen men and women, in green uniforms, with weapons and equipment of different origins. They took groceries and vegetables from the truck and finally the industrialist Ramiro Quiñones. They removed the ropes and gags. They gave him food and drink. They let him recover for a few minutes, freshen up and do his business. Then they tied his hands, two armed men stood, one in front, one behind him, carrying the ropes that tied him and began a long march. by a spike among the thick vegetation. From that moment on, a terrible journey began, through jungles, heat, mosquitoes, fear, uncertainty, pressure and threats from the kidnappers, spending days handcuffed under an improvised tent, sometimes with his eyes blindfolded, losing track of time, waiting for mealtime or to be taken to the latrine. The Quiñones family did not have to go through the doubt if they notified the police forces about the kidnapping of Ramiro Quiñones. A neighbor, concerned about the movements observed in the house, called the Quiñones by phone, but no one answered. He went to the house, entered the garden and found the front door of the house open. He didn't come in. From outside he rang the bell and got no answer either. Then he called the police. A police patrol came. They got Eufelia Quiñones, her two small children and the serving lady, tied up and locked in the cupboard. It was immediately known that the industrialist Ramiro Quiñones had been kidnapped. Commissions from the different police forces arrived. It didn't take long for the media to arrive and at night the news was on national television. After several days of walking, the guerrilla group carrying Ramiro Quiñones arrived at a better-established camp. There they locked the industrialist inside a small bahareque hut, with a cot, they gave him some magazines, a battery-powered radio and a man, who identified himself as Commander Lorenzo, came to see him. -We will soon contact his family. We're asking for five hundred thousand dollars... -But... That's impossible... We don't have that amount... -It's better that they get it... In his new place of detention, Ramiro Quiñones established a routine. He asked and received permission to bathe in a neighboring waterfall, where the members of the squad bathed. He went daily, escorted by two armed guerrillas. It was a well fed by a stream that fell between the stones. Day by day, Quiñones exchanged words and then conversations with his guardians. They were young boys, incorporated into the ELN for the salary they paid. They had little familiarity or training with the assault rifles they carried, they complained about the heat and little food. After a month of captivity, Commander Lorenzo came to talk to him again.

-We have problems, friend Quiñones. It seems like your wife doesn’t really want you to come back... The police and anti-kidnapping commandos are actively looking for you, in Ecuador and here. But that's not the serious thing... The thing is that his wife says they don't have the five hundred thousand dollars we asked for. -I told you... We don't have that much money... Not even if we sell all the properties... -But you have a plywood industry... There they have machinery, inventory, properties, they move money... -Yes, but we are five equal partners... If you allow me, I can tell my wife what to do to quickly get two hundred thousand dollars... I don't think we can get more... -Well, I'll give you some paper to write a letter to. But make it three hundred thousand...

The transactions and negotiations between the family, the kidnappers and the victim lasted several weeks. At the same time, as an agreement was not reached, Commander Lorenzo of the ELN front handed over industrialist Quiñones to another guerrilla group. Living conditions worsened and threats increased. Ramiro Quiñones remained tied with wires, blindfolded, lying on the ground, without food. He became ill, suffering from fevers and permanent diarrhea, and his captivity became hell, faced with the impassivity and sometimes cruelty of his captors. He lost contact with reality, the notion of time became diffuse; several times his guards entered and put a gun to his head. -This is over, Quiñones... Your family is doing nothing for you... -But I... -Shut up... You're dead, Quiñones... With great difficulty, mortgaging assets and asking for loans, Ramiro Quiñones' family set the goal of raising two hundred thousand dollars and prepared to make the payment. The Ecuadorian police carried out their investigations, coordinated with the Colombian authorities and were aware of the negotiations between the family and the kidnappers. Finally, Mrs. Eufelia Quiñones managed to get the kidnappers to agree to lower the amount to the two hundred thousand dollars they could raise. The ransom payment had to be made in Cali and a brother of Ramiro Quiñones had volunteered to do it. But the police, with the support of the DAS, wanted to carry out an operation at that time to arrest the intermediaries who would come. The family thought that this would be fatal for the kidnapped person. They were days of terrible tension and anguish. Faking a nervous breakdown, Mrs. Eufelia Quiñones was hospitalized in Tulcán. The next morning she discreetly left the clinic, took a taxi to the airport and traveled to Quito. There she did different banking operations until she was able to deposit the agreed sum of money into a new account, of a newly created company. She then took a flight to Bogotá and another to Cali, and came into contact with the kidnappers. She spent the day waiting in a hotel lobby until a couple finally showed up. They identified themselves, sat next to her. Mrs. Quiñones, thinking that she had no certainty about her husband's health, or even whether he was still alive, was hesitant to carry out the transaction. The man guessed her concern. -Don't worry, lady, your husband will be free immediately... -He's fine? The man said nothing. He took a self-developed photograph out of his pocket and handed it to Mrs. Quiñones. -Your husband is fine, this photo was taken two days ago... Look at the date on the newspaper he has with him... This is the proof of life that you need. Mrs. Quiñones verified that it was indeed her husband, pale, emaciated, with a beard of several weeks. They went to the bank agency and she ordered the transfer at five different accounts that the plagiarists indicated to him at that time. The couple ordered him: -Stay here for a couple of hours... We will be watching you. The industrialist Ramiro Quiñones was taken by his kidnappers to the border area and released. A Colombian National Police van found him walking along a dirt road... Months later, already beginning to overcome the trauma he had experienced, Ramiro Quiñones was having a coffee at the counter of a bakery in his town. A man stood next to him. -Ramiro Quiñones? -Yeah... -You owed us money... We wanted five hundred thousand dollars and they only paid two hundred... At any moment we'll come for the rest...