Bennett thought for a moment.
"What about the gas station employee?"
The leader of the fourth group stood up.
"Pedro Morales, twenty-four years old, worked at the 'Eastern Petroleum' gas station in Guayaquil. After the incident, he took leave to return to his hometown, which is Durán, twenty kilometers north of Guayaquil. Our people went there this afternoon; he's in the village. His parents are there, along with a sister, sixteen years old."
Bennett nodded.
"Let him live."
The four group leaders froze for a moment.
"Boss, by 'live', you mean..."
"I mean don't kill him," Bennett said, "but make sure he never forgets that day for the rest of his life."
The four group leaders exchanged glances.
Bennett didn't explain.
He walked to the window, looking out at the night view.
"The one who poured gasoline, the one who threw the beer bottle, the one with the stick," he said, "and all those who cheered while watching, identify anyone recognizable, find them all."
