The Set-up
Except for a quavering mouth, Saskia sat wide eyed and absolutely motionless. And for one long, agonizing moment, I thought they might have found another child and that Stefan was still missing.
Suddenly, with a visceral roar that rocked the room, Saskia sprang from the sofa and hurled herself at the startled kidnapper. “FUCKER!” she shrieked. “Filthy, horrible FUCKER!”
With his hands shackled from behind the kidnapper was helpless to protect himself as her fingernails raked across his face, tearing troughs of welling blood. Then she pummeled him to the floor with her fists, kicking him viciously as he fell and curled up to protect himself.
All this happened so quickly and with so much fury that I could hardly bring myself to react. And when I did, a guard firmly pushed me back into my seat and shook his head to warn me against trying to get up again. Saskia continued to beat the kidnapper as two guards removed his sobbing wife. By this time, Saskia was in a frenzied rage and one of her breasts had fallen out again. Only this time it wasn’t funny. Stefan was also in a frenzy, beating his little fists on Saskia and yelling for her to stop. It was chaos and it was evil, and I too was in tears.
Drained, and in a strange way detached, I observed the Colonel who looked as if he were enjoying himself thoroughly. He smiled magnanimously, rewarding me with a sympathetic shake of his well greased head. “You must be very proud of yourself, Señor Feigel. Very proud to be such a, ah … hero. Very proud to have cause all this,” his cigarette swept across the room to include the entire scene.
He clicked his fingers once to demonstrate where the real power was and guards quickly moved to stop Saskia and haul the cowering man to his feet. His shirt had already been torn when he first entered the room and I could see a number of bruises and scrapes through the rents. Now his shirt and skin were soaked in blood.
Saskia enveloped the hysterical Stefan and with one last look at her son’s kidnapper, swept him off to a corner of the sofa where he calmed into heaving sobs. We sat there until he was resting quietly in Saskia’s arms.
But this was not the end of the drama. From across the room the kidnapper broke away from his guards, stumbled across the room and threw himself at my feet. “Please, for God’s sake please. You’re a journalist. You can help me. You can let people know … they’re killing me in here. Please … they’re killing me … please … please …” his broken plea fading as the guards dragged him away and out the door.
Elegantly smoking a fresh cigarette, the Colonel regarded me again with a knowing shrug. Why had the kidnapper been told I was a journalist? Why had any of this been allowed to happen? I had to get out of this place while I still could. Saskia and Stefan were already booked on a flight to Oaxaca to pick up their belongings before flying back to Saskia’s parents in the US and I needed to move on as quickly as possible. That time was now.
The drama finally over, the Colonel allowed me to rise and I walked over to Saskia and Stefan. “You two will be safe now, Saskia. You and Stefan are headed back home. God bless you both.” I kissed her on the forehead, nodded to the Colonel and started to leave. “And where will you be heading this time, Señor Feigel?” inquired the colonel in a mocking tone. “Oaxaca, Señor Colonel,” I lied sincerely. “Then back to Mexico City where I’m expected for a press conference.”
Bob and Susie were still waiting for me under the tree and we didn’t stop driving until we’d crossed the Guatemalan border and were well on our way to Guatemala City. As Bob Beadle wisely said, “Keep the bastards guessing.”
| Kidnap in Oaxaca © Robert R. Feigel 2022 – All rights reserved |
Pieces from a Puzzling Life 