What was an unquestionable fact was that we were prepared to flee without being caught. We were faster and more agile than when we’d started out. Still, in case anyone gave chase in cars, we made some spikes from the nails left over from our shuriken that we could throw down to puncture tires.

The plan was ultimately laid out as follows: we had one hour, between three and four in the morning, to break into the church and get the instruments out. Pancho would climb the wall and enter through one of the upper windows (framed by metal that was so old and rusty it never closed), some three or four meters up. Pancho’s firsthand reconnaissance told us the side door was locked with a padlock; he would use a bolt cutter to break it. Once that entrance was breached, the rest of us would come into play: we’d load up the instruments and get out as quickly and silently as possible. We would escape through the side door that let out onto El Piñón—a dark hill covered with pine forest, where the route back would be longer but safer. Once we were in the woods we’d divide up the booty. The most complicated part of the plan was transporting all the instruments in a single trip without any noise, especially the drums, which were by nature unwieldy and loud. Pancho and I sketched out on a piece of paper how we would do it: Camilo would strap the bass drum to his back with the tom-toms still attached, like a backpack, and he’d carry it like one; I would carry the snare and the floor tom tied to my back and the cymbals on my chest; Marquito would carry the keyboard on his back; Pancho would carry the bass and the guitar across his body in front and back. Camilo complained that his brother had gotten the easiest part, and Pancho argued that he had already done plenty of work planning the whole thing out. We would cover the instruments with the enormous dresses that the Carrascos’ mom used when she was pregnant. If there was time and space, we’d grab some cables and music stands. The amps were a no-go; we’d have to figure out how to get our hands on some smaller ones later.

We all thought it was an impeccable plan. At least like that, sketched out on paper, each of us was a ninja, instruments strapped across our backs instead of katanas.

The day of the heist, we felt the weight of the historic, dangerous moment hanging over us. It didn’t make sense to train anymore, and plus, just like athletes, we decided it was better for our bodies to be well rested. So what we did was use the morning to wash our sweat suits and lay them in the sun to dry, and then watch the afternoon pass, sitting at the foot of the steps and eating the last of the watermelon. Camilo asked Marquito to get the tobacco so he could smoke a cigarette. He admitted he was just too nervous, and even though Pancho scolded him for his lack of commitment, we all ended up smoking. I told them how that image of ninjas dressed in black was a myth. They used navy blue, because black shone in the darkness. Marquito said that meant our school sweat suits were perfect for this mission.