Boy Kills Man (13 page)

Alberto would've been appalled. In his time he believed in God. I just doubted God could really believe in us any more, though I was drawn to hole out in His house.

In some ways, the hits became easier. I didn't have to think, was why. I just did what I was told each time and got paid for it. Nobody ever went into much detail about what these people had done so wrong, and I didn't ask. On some jobs, I wouldn't have to fire my gun at all. I would walk into an office, bar or lock-up, show it to whoever Manu had pointed out to me, and invite them to step outside. People rarely kicked up a fight, or tried to flee when they looked down into the muzzle. Some would give me a cold, hard stare before their heads were hooded, but mostly they seemed ready for me and the big silver jeep that often came to collect them. Manu never let on where they were taken or why they had to travel in the trunk. Privately, I wished I could've been allowed to finish things before they found out for themselves.

‘I know every street, building and back alley in Medellín,' he said. ‘But there are some places best left to the imagination.'

I also saw a lot of bodies, but not all my own work. We travelled to trail ends of the city where killing was so commonplace that corpses lay in the street like sacks of refuse. I never dwelled on how these people died, but I thought a lot about the afterlife. Alberto had made it, and I knew that one day I would follow – as we all would. So long as I had provided for the people I left behind, I would be ready to catch up with my friend.

All through this time, I grew more and more fond of my
barrio:
not just the church but also the streets where I grew up, the noises and faces familiar to me. I think it was the jabs that made me feel this way. To begin with they helped me avoid disappointing the boss, but gradually I felt less keyed up about pulling the trigger. I didn't
need
calming, which meant when Manu sunk that needle into my arm I'd simply feel washed out. All I ever wanted to do afterwards was head home, but first Manu would insist on driving by to take a photograph. We needed it as proof for
El Fantasma,
and we had to see him so I could pick up my pay. Each time he would study the evidence, quietly dragging on his toothpick joint as if he couldn't breathe without it. I could never be sure if he was thinking about his victims or the future without them, but whatever weighed on his mind it went down deep. Then, when he had finished with his thoughts, I'd watch him toss the picture on to his desk like it meant nothing to him any more. Once, he overshot the desk completely. I reached down to pick it up, came back to find he'd lifted his hands in surrender.

‘Keep it,' he suggested. ‘As a kid, I loved collecting.'

‘Thank you but no,' I replied, and placed it on the desk. ‘I only collect banknotes.'

That had made him roar with laughter. He even called in his guard so he could repeat what I said, though I hadn't meant to be funny. The money was the only reason I kept coming back. It meant after church I could return to the apartment block and push an envelope under Beatriz's door. With every delivery, I braced myself for her to slice it back into the hallway. I would wait for a minute or more, until I felt certain it would not come back. She would face me one day. I felt sure. It was just a question of time.

And when she finally opened that door, I would be ready.

I missed her brother like mad. I missed his lust for life. Everything seemed so flat without Alberto, but when it came to Beatriz I still had some hope. I'd grown up fast since he'd gone, and really believed that one day soon she might treat me as an equal. The age gap meant nothing to me any more. After all the things I had seen and done lately, I felt older than the years I had lived. I began to think that with age came a sadness that was hard to shake, and so I decided to treat myself. Alberto had once done the same thing to keep his spirits up, and so I went to the mall he liked the most. I wanted Beatriz to find me at my best. I also wanted to hear music again.

The first thing I bought was a personal stereo player, then a holster for my gun and a nice white t-shirt to cover it up. My uncle could lust after the player as much as he liked. From now on, if he tried to shake me down he'd be in for a nasty surprise. The shirt was a little on the big side maybe, even if it was a size Small, but there was no way now that I could be seen wearing kids' clothes.

I didn't worry about wearing my headphones in the street. I had no fear of being robbed any more, after all. The little kids and the market traders made sure they recognised me, Galán would nod if I passed his store and even Jairo began to treat me better. Sometimes, he would offer me a drink whenever I returned home, or let me smoke at the window. I knew he was wise to the money I had given my mother because all of a sudden he could afford quality beers, and whisky instead of
aguardiente.
Still, my uncle was no fool. Whenever I did agree to sit with him, if only for a tomato juice, his eyes would dart to my gun. Unlike Alberto, I didn't see much point in trying to hide it. I always holstered it away from Mamá, even before she started breaking down on me, but it did Jairo some good to see the grip peeking from my waistband.

‘I appreciate what you've done for your mother,' he whispered once, leaning in across the table even though we were alone. ‘Give her time, she'll see what a sacrifice you're making.'

Old Jairo knew better than to demand I pay him directly, just as I knew not to tell him that only half the money was coming into this apartment. He wanted to know who was employing me, of course, but my silence on that subject seemed to tell my uncle enough. It certainly persuaded him to defend me when it all became too much for Mamá, though nothing would stop them from flaring up. I would take off from the apartment, and by the time I reached the street it sounded like I had started a war.

If Manu was nothing more than my driver and minder,
El Fantasma
became like a manager to me. We'd settle up, only for him to draw me into a debate about Nacional's form or insist I try out on the pitch opposite the compound. None of his people told me how he hated to lose, but when I stole the ball from under his feet he was first to break the silence with applause. He could be just as supportive in family matters, too, and seemed pained when I told him how I lived with so much unrest.

It was Manu who told me that
El Fantasma
had lost a wife and young son in a bomb blast some years earlier. He said it had scarred the boss so deeply that he never spoke about it, so I felt privileged when I collected my money after taking out some bigmouth businessman one day and he thanked me for banishing some demons.

‘The guy you just capped,' he explained, and crushed the Polaroid in one fist. ‘His cousin murdered two people dearest to my heart. Your finish could still use some work, Shorty, but I gotta say you're close to earning that season ticket.'

I felt uneasy when he took out his money clip, having figured he was talking about his family.
El Fantasma
owed me for the hit, but now it seemed wrong somehow. ‘You must miss them very much,' was all I could think to say, and he looked at me in surprise. At first I thought he was going to get cross with me for intruding. Instead, he smiled to himself and started counting out the notes.

‘The day that bomb exploded,' he said eventually. ‘I swore I would track down the sonofabitch responsible and punish every single member of their family. Men, women, children, they all die.'

The way he said this, it was like we were talking about nothing more than horseflies. ‘Was it meant for you?' I asked.

‘There are many ways to kill someone before you take their life.' He stopped there for a moment, and looked at the money in his hand. ‘I used to believe this business was my family's passport out of here. Now the business is all I have, and I'm stronger for it. I don't feel remorse or pity any more, and nor do I have any hopes for the future. It's the only way to survive in this life, Sonny. You follow your team with all your heart but accept that you just can't win all the time.'

El Fantasma
insisted I take what I had earned, clearly brooding some because when his bodyguard walked in without knocking he bawled him out on the spot. The guy was built like a superhero, which made the panic in his face so alarming. ‘Some cops are at the gate,' he said breathlessly. ‘Detectives with a warrant.'

‘
What?
Why did we not know about this?'

‘
Senor,
how clean are we here?' The guard's eyes shifted to me, but I didn't know what to say. I just stuffed the money into the pocket of my jeans.

‘You have to go,' said
El Fantasma
and grabbed the screwed-up Polaroid from the desk. ‘Take this with you, and get out of here.'

‘With Manu?' I had left my driver in the courtyard, where I figured he was probably involved with the face-off with the cops.

‘Vanish!'
The order barely rose above a whisper, but there was fury there, so I just took the picture and ran.

I left the building through the kitchens, and just kept my head down outside. Guards and staff were everywhere, crossing a grass quad with boxes and documents. All of them were heading in different directions, and in a hurry too. Nobody paid any attention to me, though my heart picked up the pace when a knot of cops came around the corner. I doubled-back as they took stock of the chaos that had broken out this side, and sprinted for a sidewall. Frantically I scrambled to get over and away, scraping my knee as I dropped on to the road, but nobody followed or fired a warning shot. If that was a police raid, I thought, someone had clearly paid to make the cops move in slow motion.

I was on the wrong side of the city from home, but I figured the walk would burn up the remains of the jab. It also left me with plenty of time to brood about what had happened. In seconds,
El Fantasma
had gone from treating me like an equal to a little kid, and I didn't like it. I felt angry and ashamed as I trudged through block after block. I also felt out of my depth. I was so far from my
barrio
that some of the street names were totally new to me. Only the mountain ridges were familiar, and helped to guide me in the right direction, but it didn't make me feel any safer.

Even with a loaded gun, I worried I might be jumped. I knew I couldn't risk hailing a cab out here, in case I wound up in the trunk with a hood over my head. I'd learned from Manu that many drivers did his kind of sideline work, taking jobs as wheelmen and messengers. It meant if I raised my hand and a driver for a rival boss recognised my face, I might arrive home bit by little bit until someone paid my ransom. Manu was the only driver I trusted. Locked inside his car, I could go to any quarter of this city and feel protected from the world. Things were different out on the streets. Every passer-by seemed to shoot me a glance, more so as twilight settled, and when squad cars began howling in the hills I immediately assumed they were coming for me
.
It forced me to keep my head down, even when the buildings became familiar and my apartment block came into view. I crossed the street, thankful that I'd made it just as night fell. A figure stepped out of the lobby just then, laughing with someone behind her. She turned to see where she was going, and then covered her mouth when she saw me.

‘Beatriz!' I was just as surprised, but also overjoyed. ‘My God, it's good to see you.'

‘Sonny, hello.'

She looked amazing, a real bombshell: from her shiny red shoes to the dress that fitted just perfect. She'd fixed up her hair with pins as well, and swapped her college books for a bouquet of flowers. This wasn't a grieving sister I saw before me, but the girl I had been waiting for all this time. As I struggled for something to say, I decided that
El Fantasma
had to be wrong. You couldn't live without hope. You just couldn't.

‘It's so good to see you again,' I said, beaming still, but all she did was turn and this guy appeared right behind her. He was older than me, also Beatriz, and had a sandy flop of hair cut short over the ears. I knew straight away that he couldn't be from round here. He was wearing a pressed shirt with a jumper thrown over his shoulders, even a mobile phone clipped to his belt. A college jock, I was sure of it.

‘Sonny, this is Juan Mario Uribe. We're studying the same course. Sonny is a neighbour.' That was how she introduced me, which stung all the more.

‘Pleased to meet you, Sonny.' He held out his hand, but I ignored it. All I could do was look at Beatriz and what she had become. The dress and the shoes were brand new, and we both knew how she had afforded them. I wanted her to look me in the eyes, if only to see if there was any shame, but she refused me even that.

‘We should go,' said Juan Mario, and glared at me as he slipped his hand around her waist.

The guy was a jerk. I could've finished him without thinking, had it not been for Beatriz and the bullet it would cost me. So instead I stepped to one side, lost inside myself. I felt betrayed, but only by what I saw now as a dumb dream. I should've listened to Alberto all along. What would someone like Beatriz see in a stupid kid like me? I had nothing to offer, but for the money in my pocket, and suddenly that seemed worthless.

‘Sonny?'

I looked over my shoulder, saw Beatriz facing me. Juan Mario was looming over her, clearly annoyed that she had stopped again.

‘You helped me to move on,' she said.

‘How? By staying away or by paying for a new outfit?'

‘Both, in a way.'

I was mad with Beatriz, and wanted her to know it. What she had just said left her blushing, but it also made me think. I hadn't ever considered what she might do with the money. I was trying to make things better. Maybe her brother had hoped to do that with all the gifts he had given me. All I knew now was that Beatriz had a life ahead of her, no matter what happened to me. I blinked until I saw her again, smiled and raised my hand.