Haunted by Escobar: Searching for the Cocaine King's Abandoned Island Mansion

Determined to move out of the long shadow of Pablo Escobar, Colombia has torn down his every relic. But, rumour has it, on an island in the Caribbean Sea, hidden amongst tropical jungle, his abandoned vacation mansion still stands. Will McGuire sets out to discover if it’s real, in a struggle that will pit him against the locals, and even nature itself. 

Medellín, Colombia: Home of Pablo Escobar, the most powerful and feared drug kingpin of all time and, during the early nineties, the murder capital of the world. Escobar’s addiction for money and power brought him the greatest wealth of any criminal in history, but drove his country to civil war and the brink of collapse. Since his reign of terror ended, the city has transformed into a vibrant, bustling metropolis, popular with tourists. 

 

I sat with Jen inside a Medellín tour booth, outside the Poblado metro, flanked by two eager attendants. One of the women, with long, painted fingernails, nodded vigorously as she thrust me a leaflet. I flicked politely through the pages, which promised less than exciting guided walks of the city's old buildings and green spaces. Plucking up the courage, I asked Fingernails, ‘You do any-’ my voice dropped to a whisper ‘Pablo Escobar tours?’ 

Her smile dropped and she withered away like I’d just farted. 

‘We don’t do those tours,’ she hissed. The two women muttered to each other as they took turns scowling at me. 

Cringing, I quickly picked up my plant park leaflet. 

‘Little nature walk?’ I gushed. ‘Orchids too? Please tell me more.’ 

 

I humoured them long enough to comfortably leave, and stood, announcing to no one in particular. ‘Well, that’s given us plenty of things to think about.’  

Fingernails rolled her eyes and, as if my boyish charms had got the better of her judgement, held out a folded slip of paper. 

‘That’s my friend. You can call him for your tour.’ 

I thanked her, tugging on it unsuccessfully, as she didn’t let go at first. 

‘But Colombia is so much more than - him.’ Only inches away, she stared into my soul.  ‘It’s beautiful. Don’t miss it.’  

 

The government could have exploited the story of Pablo Escobar for easy narco-tourism dollars, but to spite him, they have attempted to scrub He Who Must Not Be Named from history so that his legacy dies. All his mansions were bulldozed and his assets seized. A ban on Pablo Escobar tours drove them into discreet, underground operations.  

 

In all my research I found only one building of his that might still exist; an abandoned mansion on an island off the coast of Cartagena, in the Caribbean Sea, once host to the most sordid parties of their time. The photos promised a haunting ruin on the coast of paradise. But the source of these photos was a single, unverified online article, which left the location a mystery, breadcrumbing just one clue - Rosario. 

 

‘This was his town,’ Duban told us, taking a hand off the wheel to gesticulate his point. ‘We lived in terror. Always. I remember we could not even eat in a restaurant in the evening. We might get shot.’  

‘No! Really?’ I egged him on, enthralled by all the horrible details. 

 

When I called the number on the note, Duban had answered and was more than happy to take us for a drive. We had just visited Pablo’s grave and were now on our way up a windy, forested road to La Catedral, the prison Pablo built for himself. Duban was animated and passionate, having lived through the worst of the city’s atrocities.  

 

A rotten watch tower signaled we had reached our destination. There was no one to greet us or stop us going in. La Catedral is a testament to the supervillain’s vast wealth and power. One of the conditions for surrendering himself to authorities was that he served his sentence in a prison of his choosing, and so built his own, the fortress of La Catedral. Police were not allowed to set foot within two miles, allowing the unsupervised Escobar to resume his cocaine operation. After police raided the compound and drove him back into exile, the prison fell into ruin. The site is now a retirement home, run by monks.  

 

The main section of the prison was boarded up and wrapped in tarpaulin, but through gaps I could spy the dereliction inside. Duban pointed out the archways and sections that were once sleeping quarters for the foot soldiers. On the other side, closer to the trees, was a mostly demolished staircase to nowhere. 

‘That’s where his bedroom was.’ 

 

Down a path was the only original structure still in any good condition, and curiously built in the shape of a crucifix. ‘What’s that?’ I asked. 

Duban smiled. ‘Club Medellín. They say the wildest parties in Colombia happened in there, every night!’ 

A large padlock over the front door made it clear we weren’t invited. Undeterred, Duban had a plan. He waved down a bald-headed monk and started sweet-talking him in Spanish. But the monk, who had a face like dried cement, just held out his hand ‘Usted debe pagar.’ 

Duban turned to us. ‘Er, you have money, right?’ 

The only way to get anything done in this country! 

 

After pocketing my cash, the still unsmiling monk pulled out a jangling key set from his robe. Duban cheered. ‘See I told you, Duban’s Pablo Tour - the best!’ 

Adorning the wall inside the entrance was a huge crucified Jesus, with decorative machine guns circled around him. 

Duban grinned. ‘That was Pablo’s bedroom headboard.’  

Looking around, I realized Club Medellín was now a museum of everything of Escobar’s that had been salvaged. In a glass cabinet was his personal telephone, and the iconic fur hat seen worn in many famous pictures.  

 

‘Please, take a seat. You must have a photo,’ Duban ushered us over to a red-cushioned sofa. I never resist a photo op. Jen and I smiled for the camera.  

‘Was this where Pablo ate his breakfast?’ I asked.  

‘No. You are sitting exactly where he shot two politicians to death.’ 

We both sprung to our feet. I checked the back of my shorts for blood. 

‘Will,’ Jen whispered into my ear, ‘I’m not sure I liked that.’ 

‘W-woah.’ I stammered. ‘Cool.’ 

 

Outside, Duban led us along a trail into the forest. ‘Every day Pablo walked down here to bathe.’ Clear stream-water trickled into a pool, encircled by craggy rocks. Overlooking the pool was a statue of the Virgin Mary, built into a hollow of the rock face. 

‘He called this “miracle water” to keep him safe,’ Duban scooped his hand through the pool, ‘and he prayed to the statue every day.’ 

The trail continued deeper until it disappeared into the forest.  

‘When the police came, Pablo took that path to escape.’ 

 

At a clearing was a helipad that Pablo’s associates used when they visited. Attractive murals were painted across the brickwork. The view revealed the whole city of Medellín.  

‘Beautiful. Yes?’ Duban asked. 

‘Very beautiful,’ replied Jen. 

 

La Catedral was the ultimate hideout. High up in the forest, it was difficult to attack, gave full view of the territory below and afforded plenty of secret escapes. I found every grisly detail of this monster’s life perversely exciting. La Catedral was a gateway drug of interest and now I craved something even harder.  

 

‘Tell me there is something more,’ I begged him. 

‘More?’ Duban raised his eyebrow. 

‘Something more of his left to visit. Anything!’ 

‘There’s nothing left now.’ 

The three of us stood in silence, staring down at the city.  

‘Well, maybe something,’ Duban scratched his chin ‘But I’ve never seen it.’ 

‘Really? What?’ 

‘A mansion. So, I once heard. But I really don’t know-’ 

‘Where?’ I snapped. 

He frowned, suddenly hesitant. ‘Rosario.’ 

Rosario! The rumoured abandoned island mansion. Could it really be true? I had to investigate.  

 

Like a coke fiend who has tasted that first line, I couldn’t stop this hunt - until I'd snorted everything there was! 

 

*** 

 

Screams rang out. Followed by shouting. Another swell lifted up the speed boat and we all braced as it smashed back down, as if landing on concrete. I felt the impact all the way up my spine. The screams resumed. 

Jen sobbed. ‘I’m in so much pain!’ 

I grabbed her thigh. ‘It’ll be ok!’ 

 

We had departed the city of Cartagena for Isla Grande, the largest island in the Rosario archipelago. As our speed boat entered the open water of the Caribbean Sea, huge swells began to form, relentless in their attack.  

 

‘Ok another one, Jen. Get ready.’  

The boat lifted and crunched down again. A lid over the engine at the front of the boat popped off and flew backwards, striking one of the passengers. They shouted again at the captain who yelled back at them. One of the crew staggered forward to retrieve the lid, but as he did, we suffered another slam, and one of the beams holding up the awning snapped. The boat was being ripped apart! 

The sea was like an island sentinel, keeping us away.  

‘I have to get off!’ Jen sobbed. 

‘It’ll all be worth it I promise.’ 

Her grimace flickered into a hopeful smile, until the next swell hit.  

 

As we approached the island, the swells diminished, like we’d broken through their magic. Before us was clear, turquoise water and glittering white sand, on the banks of a tree-covered island paradise. The remains of the boat idled up to a wooden jetty and the passengers clambered to get off. 

 

With Jen wrecked from the journey, it fell on me to carry both packs, as we trailed through dense jungle in search of our camp. My shirt clung with sweat under the ferocious midday heat. We booked two nights at Campo Verde which was sold as an “eco-lodge”. This sounded hip and environmentally friendly, but just meant no facilities. Through the window of a wooden hut, the bored receptionist recited, in monotone, the list of amenities we would not be receiving, including running water and power. He then asked, ‘is that ok?’ As if there was some choice. 

 

‘No Wi-Fi?’ Jen wondered, elbowing me to ask. But her social media would have to wait, we had bigger concerns. I didn’t know if the mansion was on this island or one of the many others, but figured if it was, the monotone receptionist would know. 

‘Amigo. Umm Kah-sah Pablo Escobar?’ 

‘Eh?’ 

‘Cuss-ahh Pablo Escobar?’ I formed a pointed house shape with my hands. ‘Car-sah Pablo Escobar.’ 

‘Ah si! Casa Pablo Escobar!’ 

‘Si si. Yeah, that’s what I said.’ 

‘Si. No.’ 

‘Si No?’ 

‘No Casa Pablo Escobar.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Diving. You like fish, si?’  

‘I like fish,’ piped up Jen. 

‘Diving tour, uh, twenty pesos. Gègehsimo will take you.’ 

‘Who’s Ge-ge-gizmo?’ 

Monotone waved to a charcoal-coloured, shirtless man, sat at a nearby bench. Gizmo waved back with a leery, almost toothless grin. 

‘I ain't going anywhere with him.’ 

 

We swayed in a dingy opposite Gizmo, who was still shirtless, and for whatever reason, still grinning. 

‘This is nice,’ Jen chirped, pleased to have got her way. 

I sulked that no one on this island was helping me find my mansion. 

‘Cheer up.’ Jen strapped a snorkel over her face and slid off the boat. With a heavy sigh I strapped on my own snorkel and followed her into the water. Even though we were far from the beach, the water was shallow, with the coral just feet below. I gasped as a gorgeous red fish darted past my face. Jen was pointed in the other direction and I tapped her foot to show her my find, but she was busy watching a school of fish, all manners of colours; swooping, swirling and dancing. A dark shape, like an orca, sidled up beside me. But it was just charcoal Gizmo, giving me a thumbs up, his grin somehow even wider. 

 

We climbed back into the boat, giddy from the swim. 

‘That was the best I’ve ever seen,’ Jen beamed. 

I thought Gizmo would take us back to the jetty now, but instead he drove the dingy further away, around the other side of the island. He cut the engine and stared very intently at a particular spot of water, as if looking for something. His grin had gone. 

‘What’s happening, Will?’ 

I had no idea.  

Gizmo dropped the anchor. He pointed to our snorkels. We put them back on, glancing at each other nervously. Gizmo dived out the dingy head first. The water here was much deeper. We weren’t looking for coral anymore.  

‘Will, I’m scared. I don’t like it so deep.’ 

‘We’ll be ok. Come on.’ 

I took a breath and dived out too.  

 

Immediately the water felt different. Instead of being clear, with lots of exciting things to see, beyond my toes there was just gloom where the sunlight couldn’t reach. I felt vulnerable. What were we doing here? 

Jen grabbed my arm and tugged me. She was emphatically pointing.  

Far below was a sunken plane. Not a commercial passenger flyer, but a little one – a narco-plane! 

I launched myself down towards it. But pressure filled my ears and I couldn’t even get near the wing before it sucked me back to the surface.  

 

Gizmo circled above until he knew we were watching. Then he kicked with his legs and plunged to the sea floor like a stone. He was going to touch it! Not just that, we stared in horror as he disappeared through the blown cockpit window. I waited for him to reappear. But he didn’t. 

I lifted my head out of the water. ‘You see him?’ I asked Jen. She shook her head. 

 

Then Gizmo emerged beside us, that big grin back on his face. He must have swum through the plane and out an opening at the end. He was crazy. 

‘Narco-uh Pablo plane? Pablo Escobar?’  

Gizmo nodded. 

‘Uhh uhh Car-sa Cuss-a Casa Pablo Escobar?’ 

Gizmo nodded again. But I’m not sure he knew what the hell I was on about. 

The plane at least was definitely a sign. The mansion was somewhere on this island. And I would find it!

 

‘I want to go to the beach.’  

Jen stood rubbing her ear with a cotton bud, while a towel was wrapped over her hair in the shape of a beehive. The shower after snorkeling was a basic operation of filling a bucket with water from a large bin, and dumping it over our heads. 

‘Maybe later.’ I reasoned. ‘We’re so close to finding the mansion.’ 

‘We’re going to the beach.’ Her tone lowered to a threat. 

‘Let’s just have a cheeky look around, and then see the beach when it’s a bit cooler.’ 

 

She pursed her lips to complain, then suddenly leaped into the air and howled.  

A cockroach flew off her thigh and hit the ground. 

Jen hopped onto the bed ‘Kill it! Kill it!’ 

I grabbed one of her shoes.  

‘Get it!’ The mattress squeaked as she jumped up and down. 

I slammed the heel of her shoe over the cockroach and flattened it.  

‘Well done, Will,’ praised the head executioner. 

I tossed the murder weapon to one side, sweating enough to earn another bucket shower. 

‘He ran right up the inside of my leg. Horrible.’ 

‘You should have seen you,’ I teased. ‘You were all like “Oh my God kill it! kill it!” You psycho.’ 

‘Shut up, no I wasn’t.’  

We both laughed. 

‘Just get rid of it.’ 

 

I picked a leaflet from my bag to scrape him up. As I bent to do the honours, the cockroach sprang back to his feet. ‘Oh no.’ 

‘Hit it again!’ shrieked Jen, bouncing back up and down on the bed. 

The cockroach scuttled towards me. I stumbled backwards in a panic, reaching out for anything to defend myself.  

‘Will! Kill it!’ 

My hands found the shoe and I stamped the ground. The cockroach dodged and changed direction. I scrambled after him, slamming, but he escaped my reach and then disappeared under the front door to safety. I turned to a glaring Jen, ‘You had one job.’  

She swiped her shoe out of my hand and stood over me, brandishing the footwear. 

‘Now put your swim shorts on. We’re going to the beach!’  

 

Jen sprawled out on her front over the towel, her bra strap unclasped so she could get a clean sear over her back.  I rubbed another layer of sunblock over my nose, as it always burns first. 

‘Isn’t this the best,’ she purred. 

‘Yeah.’ I stared out at the crystal water. Even though this was a gorgeous beach, I couldn’t relax. I hadn’t come all the way to Isla Grande for the sand or the sunburn.  

 

A hawker, wearing Bono style sunglasses, waved to me. ‘Hey my friend. You want beautiful piña colada? So fresh. I do special for you - 15 pesos.’ 

Too bad for him, I’d already checked the bar prices. ‘menu says 10 pesos.’ 

‘Haha, you funny man.’ Bono walked on, to try his scam elsewhere. 

 

I was getting thirsty, so the next time Bono waved at me, I ordered a coconut. It provided only half a sip before running dry. Even the flesh was too solid to scrape off. Scammed anyway. The loved-up couple beside us were doing alright though. They sat up, as a dinner tray was positioned in front of them and a plate of steaming lobster was set down. I watched like a dog waiting for scraps to fall. 

 

Jen wasn’t bothered. ‘Isn’t this perfect? I mean, I would come back here for like - a honeymoon.’ 

‘Yeah... I mean, I never usually go to the same place twice. So many places to see, so little time.’ 

Her brow hardened. 

‘-But yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it?’ 

Lover Girl squeezed a lemon wedge over her lobster and noticed me staring. ‘It’s our last week, so like, why not right?’ 

Our last week in South America too. But I just blew the lunch budget on that stupid coconut. 

 

I cornered Bono, sat on a camping chair under the shade of an umbrella, to confront him over my lousy coconut, when suddenly I had a better idea. 

‘Amigo. You know-’ I dropped to a whisper. ‘Casa Pablo Escobar?’ 

He smirked and looked away. 

I showed him a 20 peso note. The money for tonight’s dinner. 

Bono stopped smiling and scratched his chin. ‘Si. I know Casa Pablo Escobar.’ 

‘Where?’ 

Bono took the note and rubbed his thumb over it. ‘That way.’ He nodded to the direction. ‘You walk, keep walking. You find it,’ then lifted his glasses onto his forehead. ‘But Funny Man, why? Nothing for you there. Lie down, enjoy. Have piña colada, I give you special price, just for you, Funny Man - 12 pesos!’ 

 

I sat down next to Jen with a piña colada. She raised an eyebrow. ‘How can we afford that?’ 

‘We can’t. But it doesn’t matter. We’re celebrating.’ 

A smile spread over her face. ‘We are? Really?’ 

'The mansion’s definitely here on the island, Jen. We can find it ourselves.’ 

‘Oh.’ Her smiled faded. I expected her to be more excited. ‘But Will, we’re not looking today.’ She took the piña colada and sipped, grimacing. ‘Today is for us. Just lie down and enjoy the beach. You’re missing what’s right in front of your face.’ 

 

As we stripped off inside our Campo Verde hut for another bucket shower, we realized how badly burnt we were. The sun had penetrated all layers of the sunblock, cooking my nose and leaving an horrendous burn line around my waist. We took turns dumping buckets of water over each other to cool the burns, while swatting away the incessant mosquitoes.  

 

With just a sliver of moonlight in the night sky, conditions were perfect to see the phytoplankton in the Enchanted Lagoon. The evening activity would be fun and unlikely to irritate our burns. I woke the receptionist for directions and he offered to send us Gizmo as a guide for a stupid amount of money. Insulted, I just borrowed his flashlight instead. He started to offer directions but his monotone voice was too annoying, so I cut him off, confident I could find my way.  

 

The trail was dark, and I did my best to note the other camps we passed and the bends in the path. As I pushed deep through bush and trees, my flashlight the only source of light, I soon knew I was totally lost.  

‘Just a bit further now.’ I reassured Jen. 

 

Out of the dark stumbled a man. We both froze. 

‘Hola,’ He smiled, on his way. 

‘Uhh Enchanted Lagoon?’ I asked. 

He blinked for a moment before clicking. ‘Ah si!’ Then proceeded to give a ten-minute-long, shaggy dog story of instructions, entirely in Spanish.  

‘Gracias,’ I said as he waved and went.  

‘Did you get that?’ Jen asked. 

‘Yeah of course.’ They will never find our bodies. 

 

I stared up at the sky, wondering whether I could use the constellations to find my way back to the camp.  

‘What are you looking for?’ 

‘Nothing. You know where the Big Dipper is?’ 

We heard a rustle and male voices. I raised the flashlight, anticipating Cocaine Bandits. Instead, two men carrying beers walked into view, hands held out to shade their eyes from the glare. 

‘Hola. Enchanted Lagoon?’ 

‘Yes. You must keep going.’ They saw our disheveled, desperate faces and took pity. ‘We will take you.’ 

Lorenzo was a young man from Bogota, and Gustav, a much older man, was from Medellín. I couldn’t tell if they were friends or lovers. Lorenzo gave us each a beer. They knew the wild track well, walking confidently with no light source. 

‘This spot I take you, is the best,’ Lorenzo assured me. 

 

We emerged out of the bush at the coast, on the other side of the island, beside a glorious hotel. They led us through the hotel grounds, past gorgeous apartments and a swimming pool. 

‘Are we allowed to?’ Jen asked. 

‘Yes, no problem.’ 

Through a window I saw kitchen staff cleaning up dishes.  

‘Here.’ Lorenzo and Gustav pointed to a platform. It was too dark to see at first that it sat over a huge expanse of water – the Enchanted Lagoon! 

A group of young girls were squealing and giggling as they jumped in. 

‘The phytoplankton is best seen under the platform.’ Lorenzo explained. 

‘Are you going in?’ I asked him. 

He laughed and shook his head. Then changed his mind. ‘Ok. Just for you.’ He gave me a cutesy smile, pulled off his shirt and jumped in.  

‘I’m not going in, Will.’ Jen was happy to watch. 

I knocked back my beer and stripped down to my underpants, jumping in after him. The water was warm and delicious. Lorenzo was holding onto the platform and pointed underneath where it was darkest. ‘Look.’ 

Tiny blue specks fizzled in the water. ‘Now kick with your legs.’ 

Holding onto the platform I kicked, and the movement stimulated the phytoplankton to dart away like mini, blue underwater fireworks.  

‘I can see it!’ Jen cheered. 

Lorenzo laughed. ‘Good, yes?’ 

It reminded me of the scene in the film The Beach when Dicaprio makes love to a French girl in a swirling sea of phytoplankton. Except here it was just me and Lorenzo kicking the water in our underpants. 

 

Lorenzo and Gustav helped navigate us back along the track to our camp. 

‘Colombia is most beautiful country. I love.’ The men waved to us as we parted ways. ‘Enjoy, my friend!’ 

Jen and I stood at the gate of our camp, but she didn’t want to go in yet. We still had the flashlight and she suggested we go down to the pier and look up at the stars.  

 

‘I’ve never seen such a wonderful night sky.’  

We lay back on the wooden jetty and admired the myriad of flickering stars. A breeze sweeping in off the water felt cool on my sunburn. 

‘There’s the Big Dipper!’ Jen pointed out. 

‘Oh good.’  

 

A silence fell over us as we stared up. In only a handful of days we would be leaving South America; the intense three-month adventure would soon be over. Jen held my hand. ‘I’ve had the most amazing trip. It really has been once in a lifetime. And now we can go home and settle down.'

The words landed like the final chapter of my life. Was this really to be the last adventure of our lifetime? 

'You know what?' she continued. ‘Even if we don’t see the mansion. I’m glad we came here.’ 

The very thought struck me with rage and fear. ‘I can’t leave without finding it.’ I sat up. ‘This has all felt like a distraction today. Finding that mansion is all that matters.’ 

‘Will...’ Her objection trailed off, and we both looked away, then back up at the stars. I felt a gnawing sense of apprehension for our future. 

 

Our more immediate future saw the return of the rapey roach the next morning. He was discovered in the bathroom basin waiting to catch a glimpse of Jen undressed. As the tap wasn’t plumbed, we didn’t use the sink and so I let him be. I would not let there be any distractions from my objective. Today I would find the mansion, cockroaches be damned.  

 

We had no map, no directions and no certainty it even existed. But we were determined. And that would have to suffice. With the speedboat back to the mainland due in the early afternoon, we had only a few hours to find the mansion, and make it back to the jetty in time. My plan was to follow Bono’s suggestion and keep walking along the jungle trail, and map the entire island. From the photos I knew the mansion was by the water, so I would keep us as close to the coast as possible.  

 

I wiped my brow with my sodden shirt end. The oppressive heat made everything wet with sweat. My arms were red and stinging. Mosquitoes droned around my face. We had been walking for almost two hours and found only huts and kids playing in trees. There was no point asking the locals for help. They just stared with suspicious expressions until we were out of sight. The people of this quiet, fishing community seemed wary of outsiders. 

 

‘Will. The boat.’ 

‘We’ll be ok. It’s just this path. It keeps taking us away from the coast.’ 

I turned down a dusty lane that head directly towards the water. A young girl called out to me ‘No salida! No salida!’ 

I pulled back. ‘Next turn then.’ 

Had Bono scammed me? Did he just take my money and tell me what I wanted to hear? The next turn proved another dead end. Damn. 

 

‘I feel like we’re been getting so close recently, Will.’ 

‘Me too.’ I replied, relieved to have her confidence. ‘We should see the mansion any moment now.’ 

Jen stopped. ‘I meant – us! I feel really close.’ 

‘Oh. Yeah of course. Getting close.’ 

‘Forget it,’ she muttered and stomped ahead towards something large and slithering. 

‘Jen, watch out!’ 

She yelped as a huge iguana reared up and lurched to safety. 

‘Should I whack it with your shoe?’ 

Jen’s frown cracked into a smile. ‘Shut up, you.’  

 

The morale boost was short lived. With a continued lack of results, we both knew this quest was doomed. I crouched down under the shade of a tree to rest my thighs and figure through the disappointment. Damn it, where were you? Did you ever really exist? 

Jen leant down beside me. ‘I’m so sorry. I really wanted you to find it. But we’ve still had an amazing trip. And it’s been a nice walk.’ 

The defeat was too much to bear.  

‘Come on, Will. We did our best. Let’s go back now.’ 

‘No.’ 

‘We’ll miss the boat if we don’t leave now. That’s if we can even find our way back.’ 

‘I don’t care.’ I crossed my arms and looked away. I knew I was being pathetic but I didn’t care. 

Jen moved into my line of sight and stroked my shoulder. ‘I’m so proud of you. You’ve done so well to get us this far. But it doesn’t exist. It must have been bulldozed with everything else. That’s not your fault.’ 

‘I really wanted this.’ 

‘I know.’ 

She held out a hand. But I didn’t take it. 

‘Let's go just a bit further. Then I’ll quit, I promise.’ 

‘Will, you’re mad.’ 

‘You’ll follow me anywhere?’ 

She sighed. ‘You know I will.’ 

 

The trails veered off in multiple directions as we left the last huts behind, cutting our way through tropical undergrowth. I was still trying to keep to the coast, but really, had no idea where that was now. At least while we still moved forward there was hope.  

 

I thought about what had finally become of the fugitive Pablo Escobar. Overweight and alone, he was shot to death fleeing across the roof of his safe house. His bloodied and tousled body was then unceremoniously sprawled out on the ground as a trophy, so that the jeering cops, stood over him, could pose for photos. The greatest criminal in history was nothing more than a slaughtered boar on a hunting trip. 

 

‘Will!’ I turned as a trotting brown shape brushed past our legs. Not an iguana this time, but a pig! He wasn’t bothered by us, and knew exactly where he was going. Somehow, I knew to follow. 

‘Hurry up, Jen! He’s getting away!’ 

‘I can’t!’ Jen was struggling to push away the long grass that slapped against her arms and face. The pig turned a corner out of sight. I chased, leaving Jen further behind.  

‘Will, wait for me!’ Her voice quaked with panic. 

But as I turned the corner, there was no need to keep rushing. I saw the tip of a large, concrete building. We were here. 

 

We had arrived at the back of the property, where a crumbled brick wall let us walk straight in. From the neglected and unruly garden, a rooster crowed, and under the shade of a palm tree lay our pig guide. I threw him an apple.

'No way!' Jen marvelled 'is this really it?’ 

There was of course only one way to find out. 

We entered the building complex which had decayed into ruin. Faded pink paint brightened the cracked interior walls.  

‘This is the kitchen,’ I said, spotting what was a sink and cupboards. I marched through the lobby and out to the marble courtyard, blinded by the sun shining off the Caribbean Sea. A great palm tree overhung an enormous, empty swimming pool, just like the photos I’d seen.  

 

The legend was indeed true. Pablo Escobar’s secret island mansion was real! 

 

‘Still got some washing on his line!’ joked Jen, noticing a row of hanging clothes. But I knew this meant bad news – squatters! And soon enough we were spotted.  

A squawk echoed across the courtyard. ‘No leíste el letrero? Tienes que pagar!’ Followed by a wiry, hysterical banshee, charging towards us. 

‘I’ll handle this, Jen.’ I had been working on my Spanish. ‘Hola Amigo!’ 

‘Tienes que pagar!’ the Banshee insisted. 

‘Me - amigo,’ I explained. ‘You - amigo. We all - amigo.’ I shaped my hands into a circle to demonstrate my point. If that didn’t work then nothing would. 

 

She continued hollering. In the shade of the building entrance, other squatters perked up to watch the commotion. One was a mother nursing an infant. 

‘Jen! These islanders can’t understand my mainland accent.’ 

‘What do we do?’ 

‘We’ll have to kill them.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Dinero! Dinero!’ the Banshee demanded. 

‘Will! She wants money. Give her some money!’ 

I still preferred my plan. 

‘Here,’ Jen pulled out a creased note from her pocket. The Banshee snatched it with a grunt and retreated back to the shade with the rest of the squatter ghouls. 

 

The luxury mansion was now a skeletal haunt, with the white walls interspersed with black alcoves, like a set of rotten teeth. Keeping our distance from the squatters, we explored where it had fallen into total ruin. Rubble lay strewn where the ceiling had dropped, and the wallpaper had disintegrated from the battering sea spray. We carefully trod around where the floor had collapsed entirely. Jen peered into a bathroom to see the cracked blue tiles, and shrieked as startled bats zipped past her face and out through a window. 

 

We must have purchased the All-Access ticket because the Banshee gave us no bother as we entered the apartments. This part of the complex rose four stories high. Each room appeared lived in, with scrappy sheets tossed over the beds, and items haphazardly spread across the floor. I trembled as I rifled through the squatter’s personals like a truffle pig. 

 

‘Will, look at this!’ 

I followed Jen up the stairs to the final flight, where the bedroom door was shut, the only closed door we had found.  

 

I pushed the wooden door which opened to the penthouse suite. This was Escobar’s bedroom. The bathroom was nicer than the others, with varnished wooden panels, porcelain sink and saloon doors.  

 

‘Look at this!’ Jen retrieved a large brown suitcase from the closet. Could it be hoarding the rumoured missing millions of dollars? My heart thumped so hard my eyes felt dizzy. We ripped it open but found it empty. I checked the lining just to be sure. Though it didn’t matter. I was buzzing, and knew that I would never give this feeling up. 

 

Stepping out onto the wraparound balcony, I gripped the bannister and admired the sun-drenched view. I felt the power of the Kingpin himself, lording over my subjects, from atop my battlements.  

‘We did it, Will.’ Jen hugged me from behind. ‘We did it.’ 

I stared out across the glistening sea with new fantasies raging in my heart. ‘This won’t be our last adventure. We’re going to keep travelling. Keep going.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ She stepped backwards. ‘This is meant to be it. This is more than enough.’ 

 

But for the fiend – there is never enough. 

 

‘No. This is just the beginning of a great chapter in our lives.’ I was sure now where my future lay. ‘We will hunt down every great monument, every great secret. Today Pablo Escobar, tomorrow - the world.'

'What about - us?'

'We will never stop.’ 

 

I was so consumed that I didn’t see Jen’s smile fade or the tears run down her eyes. I didn’t hear as she walked away, leaving me to rule over my empire of bones alone.