Chapter Text
“Be careful, Tintin.” Haddock said quietly as they bumped down the jungle road in the back of a darkened lorry.
“No talking.” Said a guard.
“Don’t do anything stupid, we’ll be fine.” He gave Snowy an affectionate pat with tied hands. Snowy whined.
“Hey! No talking!” Said the guard again, and he pointed his rifle at the Captain. He closed his mouth but his eyes stayed fixed on Tintin, who gave a short, determined nod.
The truck came screeching to a halt. They looked around.
The back doors were wrenched open and Colonel Alvarez stood silhouetted.
“Now,” He grabbed Tintin by the shirt and pulled him close to his face.
“You’ll do as I've asked, advise Alcazar to storm the palace during carnival, and your companions here will remain unharmed.” He motioned and one of his guards trained his rifle on calculus.
Tintin nodded grimly.
The Colonel lifted him suddenly and threw him out onto the dirt road.
“Hey!” He protested as he thudded to the ground.
“Don’t get any ideas about tipping him off either. One of my men is amongst them, he’ll be watching you very closely.” He threw a pocket knife in his direction.
“Don’t fail me Tintin, you remember who you’d be letting down.” He ruffled snowys fur who growled at the false gesture. The doors slammed shut and the truck drove off in a cloud of dust and fumes.
Tintin coughed and spat. “What have I gotten myself into?”
It took only a few minutes for Tintin to cut himself out of the ropes, and he rubbed his wrists tentatively.
“Now what?” he thought aloud. He started to wander down the road, unsure of what to do.
He had to find the Picaros, then he could start to think of a plan. He searched his pockets. They had taken almost everything when he’d been captured. No gun.
Through the trees he could see that the sky was growing pale and orange. The thick hot air was settling cold onto the eaves.
The small pocket in his trousers still held a match book. “At least I won't freeze out here.”
He found a clearing to the side of the road and lit a small fire.
He frowned as he warmed himself. It was a sticky situation alright, at the base of the matter, was the choice between the life of his friends, and the lives of Alcazar and all his men. He didn’t even bother to think about the choice, there had to be someway around it. He had to convince the general to attack during carnival, there was no doubt of that, if he didn’t at least get that part of the plan underway he would be caught for sure. No, the time to move would be closer to the day of the attack, sometime when he could warn Alcazar discreetly of the ambush. It would have to look convincing.
It was growing dark. He heard something rustle in the bushes and was pulled out of his thoughts. He looked around, but the flickering light of his campfire showed only the dark trunks of the trees. An owl, he thought, or a lizard. He crouched back down by the fire to warm his hands.
Suddenly there was a press of cold steel on the back of his neck. He froze. Slowly raised his hands.
“¿Quién eres?” Said a gruff voice from behind him. He didn’t move.
“Di!” He said insistently. Tintin looked straight ahead, not wanting to make a miss move. His heart thumped. Another pair of heavy boots came up behind and cocked their gun. The first man knelt beside him and grabbed his face to get a better look at him.
“¿Ingles?” Tintin’s eyes flicked to him in answer but he said nothing. He stood and said something to the other man that Tintin didn’t catch.
The man put down his rifle and tintin relaxed a little, but before he could react the man grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.
“Hey!” He grabbed his other wrist and bound them behind his back.
“Cállate.” He lifted him by one arm from his knees and picked up his rifle.
“I’m looking for General Alcazar.” The two men looked at one another.
“Walk.” Said one of them, gesturing with his gun. Tintin complied. He could only hope that these men were friends of Alcazar, and not some new misfortune to befall him.
Soon he could see through the trees the orange glow of the encampment. He felt exposed as he was marched through the camp. Soldiers with grim and suspecting faces glared in his direction, sipping in bottles of whiskey and polishing their guns. Some were already far into a night of drinking, and they shot into the air, laughing and yelling as he walked by.
“Gringo! Gringo!” He knew that word. They looked at him as hunters might look at a rabbit caught in a snare. He furrowed his brow.
He was being led to a large straw hut. One of the men escorting him went in, and there was an exchange of raised voices from within.
The door was pushed open. “General Alcazar!”
“Tintin? How can this be!?” Said the General, rushing over. He pushed the other guard aside and untied him.
“General-” Tintin felt firm hands on his shoulders as the General spun him around and embraced him.
“Mi amigo!” Tintins heart sored, then dropped. His task weighed on his mind.
“Good to see you General, I wish it were under different circumstances.” He frowned at one of the guards.
“Is policy my friend, we cannot have Tapioca discovering our whereabouts. Come inside, tell me how you came to be in this God-forsaken jungle.”
“They faked an attack by your men, in that way they meant to get rid of us, but I escaped. They have Calculus and Haddock, Snowy too.” He said sadly.
“My men,” Alcazar mused, rubbing his chin. “That rat Tapioca! First he throws me out of power, then he's committing crimes in my name!” He stood from his chair in a fury, and then sat and sighed. “I fear for my country, you know.”
Inside, Tintin felt guilt rising in his gut. The opportunity to deceive him presented itself earlier than he thought.
“I know General, but that's what I must tell you, you have to launch the revolution soon, Tapioca has begun working with Colonel Sponsz, the chief of police. I've dealt with him before, he’s corrupt and dangerous.”
“Sponsz.” He grimaced. “You're right Tintin, this is serious. We have been waiting for the time to strike, but the palace is too heavily guarded to launch an attack.”
“You need a diversion.”
“Si.”
He pulled a newspaper clipping from his sleeve and handed it to the colonel.
“El Carnival? But is only two days away!”
“Another opportunity for cover won't come along anytime soon General, and by then it could be too late.”
“Si, Tapioca’s helicopters fly over this area every day now, the Picaros grow anxious.”
Tintin wished that Alcazar wouldn’t be convinced so easily. The General was desperate, he could see it in his eyes. On a different day he would have questioned further, taken other council, taken the time to strategise, but some of what Tintin said was true, they were running out of time.
Everything was lining up, the munitions were checked and checked again, and the camp was growing tense, and quiet.
Tintin slept uneasily that night in the company of the soldiers. He thought about the words of Colonel Alvarez - one of these men was a traitor. He felt eyes on him as he layed in the dark, the snores of the men filling the cabin grated on him more and more as the hours ticked by.
The days leading up to the carnival were spent largely in conference with General Alcazar and some of his close confidants. His words had to be convincing, and it pained him that he was leading the Picaros into a trap. The safety of his friends was ever on his mind - if they were still alive.
The night air was still, it was the eve of the festival, the watch was set. They were to leave early the next morning under cover of darkness. A guard called Tintin into the General's hut, he was hunched over his desk, looking aged with care. His fist was clenched around a bottle and glass. Two guards stood by at the back of the room.
“General?”
“Come in Tintin.”
“What's going on?” he said, stepping in cautiously.
The General looked at him sidelong, the flicker of the candle caught in his dark eyes.
“Something is not right Tintin,” He spoke slowly, his voice low and heavy. He stood up and swayed slightly, and as he did he layed a heavy hand on Tintin’s shoulder. Tintin’s heart thumped, he eyed the guards nervously.
“What is it?” He frowned.
“There have been no helicopters over the camp for two days, I fear they’ve discovered us.” He paced around the room uneasily.
“If they knew where you were would they not storm the camp?” Tintin asked.
“You should think so, amigo.” He stepped in close, glancing at the guards. He smelt strongly of cigar smoke, and of whiskey. Tintin swallowed uncomfortably.
“There is a spy among us.” He said in a low whisper. Tintin tried to keep his composure as his blood ran cold.
“A spy?” He whispered. The General's eyes were red and glassy. He took a large gulp of his drink and resumed his pacing.
“General, now’s not the time for drinking, we leave in a matter of hours.” He walked over to the desk and screwed the lid on the bottle. Tintin had never seen him like this, he was like another Captain Haddock.
“A matter of hours?” Alcazar said. Tintin looked at him confused. He shook his head. “Tintin, we do not launch the residence tonight, we must go further into hiding.”
Tintin blinked in a stupor “Bu-But the carnival-”
Alcazar laughed grimly. “Forget the carnival.” He came back over to the desk, reopened the bottle and poured two glasses, pushing one into Tintin's hands.
“They know where we are, it is clear to me now. If they know where they are then they know of our plans, I’m certain they mean to ambush us. If we go to the carnival we will be caught.” He sat down and hung his head, looking defeated. Tintin only looked at him dumbfounded as he sat down and hung his head. The Captain, Calculus, Snowy. What would happen to them if he didn’t get the Picaros at least to Tapiopopalyse. What would happen to him? He put down the glass and strode over to stand across from his friend.
“General, you can’t pass up this opportunity. You- You need to fight! San Theodoros needs you!” He was reaching for something, anything to encourage him, whatever he could think of. Surely he wouldn’t give up now, not at the last when so much hung on this.
He didn’t see the General’s face slowly changing as the reporter grasped for reasons why he should lead his men to slaughter, why now. The gears slowly turned in his head.
“I forget it was you that suggested the carnival as cover, amigo.” His voice was low and cracked as he spoke. Tintin was broken out of his ramblings.
“I- yes.”
He stood up and Tintin moved back instinctively.
“The helicopters disappeared two days ago.” His brows knitted together. His stance was wide and heavy, as if waiting to receive a blow. “How did you escape from Tapiocas men?”
“General-”
Alcazar drew his pistol without looking up. His broad chest heaved slowly. Tintin closed his mouth and stood still.
“You said you escaped but you never tell me how.” He looked up at Tintin, and through the messy black hair he could see the dark eyes, and the madness in them. Tintin raised his hands slightly. He swallowed and tried to find something to say, the General stepped toward him again.
“And now you are insisting that I risk the lives of my men when, when-” His mouth was drying up and he swallowed. He pointed the pistol at Tintin and flicked off the safety.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
“General listen to yourself I’m not-”
“No more words!” Tintin flinched at the barking of his voice. The air was thick and hard to breathe, and he felt his stomach curdle with the need to run.
“I can explain-”
“Spy! Guards!” He lowered his gun, and the two men from the back of the room rushed up and seized Tintin by the arms.
Adrenaline hit and he broke an arm free and punched one of the guards, knocking him to the ground. He grappled with the other guard and pushed back into him, toppling him over, but as he moved to stand there was a sharp thwack to the back of his head - the butt of Alcazar's gun. He fell to the ground, dazed, and before he could regain his clarity he felt strong hands roughly tie his arms behind his back. His vision spun, only dimly aware of his surroundings.
Alcazar lifted him over his shoulder and dumped him into a chair. He groaned weakly. His head was swimming, but he could feel the back of his scalp stinging, and a trickle of blood ran down his neck. Alcazar swiftly and easily secured him to the chair despite his drunken state, now completely ignoring the guards.
“General,” He began breathlessly “I can explain, there’s-” A rag was shoved into his mouth before he could finish and he protested weakly, choking a little on the dry fabric. Then another strip was pulled across his open mouth and tied around the back of his head. He shook his head to try and get his wits back but it was too late, the bonds were stiff and tight and he was revealed as a traitor, even if he wasn’t bound as gagged, he couldn’t rightfully deny it, because it was true.
As his eyes became clearer he now saw General Alcazar in a way he never had, strict and ruthless, fearsome, bloodthirsty, leader of the resistance. And he was frightened.