![]() ![]() He was sorry so many of the conspirators had been killed and tortured, now it was time for a little distancing from the old regime. Joaquin Balaguer knew he had only been a puppet president while Trujillo had been alive, but things were now different. They drew level, raking Trujillo's car with bullets. "There he is," cried Imbert, gunning the accelerator to the floor. How could they have let Trujillo live this long? How had they let themselves be bought by Trujillo while the rest of the country starved? "Are you sure he's coming this way?" asked Amadito, nervously. "I need to fuck a virgin."Īmadito, Imbert and Antonio de la Maza nursed their automatics. Then he noticed a dark stain spreading across his trousers. Yes, there was blood on his hands, but wasn't that the price of prosperity? And now the Americans and the Catholic Church were lining up against him. The moustache just so, and the eyes that had held a nation in thrall for more than 30 years. General Trujillo admired his reflection in the mirror. ![]()
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