Four hours later in a secret communist hideout General Gonzalo Montoyo, the muscular, shaven headed thirty-five-year old black Spaniard got up from behind his desk, walked over to the bar and opened the cabinet door. The FARX office was in the basement of a farmhouse protected by a barbed wire fence and thirty-three ferocious black bulls. “Would you like a drink?” “Yes, thank you,” Manda replied. “You have a wonderful disguise today,” General Montoyo said, “I would have never recognized you.” “Well, your guard said he recognized my perfume; I will take note of that in the future.” “Ah, yes, he is very alert.”

     “All is planned, Manda spoke rapidly for time was limited, “I will be using one of the President’s airplanes and with my security clearance no one will question or search me, the ‘First Lady.’ I can carry two suitcases for you this time.” With a big smile the General stood up; “Come here you wicked woman.” Manda walked over to him. “Si, Si, Si.”

     Three AM at the Medeyell Airport, “Hurry,” Diego Rodriguez, the pilot told her taking the two suitcases and rushing Manda from the limousine and aboard Charombia Air Number One. The jet engines were already running. “You make a handsome man, Manda.” Dressed in a suit for disguise, she smiled and gave Diego a kiss. “I bet no man has ever kissed you like that, correct?” “No woman either,” he replied. “Get some sleep if you can, I’ll wake you up before we land.”

     As the plane took off from the runway distant shots were fired at the plane.