The issue opens with a historical scene: The military coup which toppled the government of Chile on September 11,1973. As a tank attacks the presidential palace, people inside take cover from falling debris. The dialogue on pages 6-14 starts with one man handing another the rifle of a fallen defending soldier:
“Here! Take his rifle!”
(Guerrero) “I… am a journalist. I haven't ever shot anybody.”
“It's not hard. Keep your aim on the tank at the corner of the square. The one in the center has already been put out of action by comrade president.”
(Civilians flee the building) “Run! Run!!”
(Sandri the presidential guard) “We have agreed with the military on a ceasefire to evacuate the palace. If we leave unarmed, our lives will be spared, and we will be treated with honor and respect.”
“And the president?”
“He will come. He stayed behind to save important documents, but he will come too.”
“Are you sure he has chosen to surrender? Until recently he seemed determined to see it through.”
“Determined to die?”
“Yes, to die rather than surrender to the military junta.”
“Well, he has changed his mind. You know how much he cares about the lives of his collaborators. Trust me. The Army, Air Force and Navy have betrayed us. The National Guard have left the palace. Only we police officers have remained at the president's side in this final hour. And my colleagues have almost all died defending him. I'm the only one left obeying his will. The truce will not last long.”
“All right, Sandri, but… save him.”
“I promise.”
(Guerrero to the approaching military) “We surrender! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!”
“Identify yourselves!”
“I am Ernesto Guerrero, reporter for…”
“Hijo de puta!” (“Son of a bitch!” The soldier bashes Guerrero's head with a rifle butt, then kicks him on the ground.)
“Ah!”
“Noo!”
(Sandri goes back inside, just in time to see the president commit suicide with an assault rifle. He grabs a nearby phone and calls a cabal of men in a conference room somewhere.)
(A general answers the call and reports) “The president is dead!”
“It's two o'clock in the afternoon, and all is well. I propose that we toast our victory, gentlemen.”
“Aren't you going to join us, Señor?”
(A man wearing sunglass indoors holds a cane with a parrot-head cap.) “I don't drink alcohol. But I'll toast in my own way, you can bet.”
(Years later, a man named Melvin discusses sunglasses guy with an American journalist named Rogers.) “The way he said it… it gave me chills.”
“Do you know who he was?”
“I never knew his name, they called him Condor. I think it was because he ran the multinational nitrate company, Condor.”
“Do you realize, Mister Melvin, that your testimony shows that some agents of our country supported the military coup?”
“I have not said anything new. There are already books and films on the subject, and congressional investigations and….”
“But you have named names. Why did you decide to reveal them only now?”
“To take a weight off my conscience. I am a patriot. 'My country first, right or wrong…' That is my motto. But in this case I was deceived by criminals. That is why I agreed to spill the beans to you at the Washington Post. You… you are from the Washington Post, right? Would you let me see your credentials again?”
“But… we've already shown them to you, Mister Melvin.”
“Sure! Sorry. I am an ex-secret agent, after all. A little rusty, all right? Forgive me if… Can I see them again, Mister Rogers?”
“Sure!”
(Cameraman) “Should I keep rolling?”
“Keep rolling. Mister Melvin needs to double-check our credentials.”
(Rogers pulls a pistol with a silencer and shoots Melvin twice in the chest.) “Here you go!”
