He’s heading for an abandoned house where he believes weapons have been hidden (gunmen don’t keep their guns at home). He and his team line up, hugging the wall, heavily armed, and tightly packed. A battering ram gets them through the door.
They find two handguns – one rusty but the other ready to be fired – and ammunition for an assault rifle.
The captain says he’s happy with the result. “The first reason is because we are safe,” he says. “The second is that there are two guns less for the gangs.”
But this is a small victory, in a war of attrition. He admits the gangs have “many weapons and much more money than the state”.
He knows the risks only too well – having lost three close friends fighting the gangs. He has also lost his fear he says, “years ago”, but his parents have not.
“My Mum says ‘be careful, maybe you can die there’,” he tells me. “My Dad calls all the time and asks ‘my son, are you good? Tell me that you are good.'”
A line can be traced – in dollars and in broken lives – from the back streets of Durán to the hotspots of London, and other capital cities. Around 70% of the cocaine reaching Europe and the US is funnelled out of Ecuador, according to the country’s president, Daniel Noboa.
How did it come to this?
The drug pours in from neighbouring Colombia and Peru – the two biggest producers in the world. Powerful home-grown gangs – with links to Mexican cartels and Albanian mafia groups – help smuggle the cocaine onwards. They take advantage of Ecuador’s weak border controls, underfunded security forces, and long Pacific coast.
In the process what was a peaceful tourist haven in South America has – in under a decade – become a killing ground.