Deep in the foothills of the Northern Andes, the bustle of Bogota faded away and the pollution dropped off. Greenery began to reassert itself with exotic, equatorial trees beginning to reassert themselves, shading the hills and casting fingers towards the metropolis below along the winding roads up. If one wished to go far enough, one could arrive in the peaks of the mountains or the depths of the jungles as it seemed that the cosmos opened up amidst the foliage and rocks. But it was complemented by the man made overhangs of both modern make and ancient vintage, crowned by the stately colonial style Hacienda incongruously seated near the highest of the foothills due East. It stood proudly over the city and the winding river below as if it was a part of the landscape that had been there forever and was built to be there forever.

But long before getting a clear picture of it amidst the sun and the trees, figures came twisting down the revamped two lane path barely fit for a truck, as if they had expected someone. It is not long before they are clear. Three figures, two hulking private security with what looked like rifles and face covering police that almost faded into the background next to the woman in between them. Her face was weathered and sun kissed, but had a timeless brown finish and almost ethereal beauty mingling oddly with bright hazel eyes and a grin that loomed larger than the hiking clothes as she extended a hand up and waved.

She came with the force of a rolling tree, "Hello and so good to see you, my friend! I am Isabel Teresa Gaztea de Largo." The words flow up, before she leans in almost conspiratorially "But just between the two of us, you can call me Isabel", smiling broadly as if sharing some forbidden lore from untold times. "I assume you are here for the contract?”