Necropolis (25 page)

Coltodino observed them from a distance and concluded, from the way they joked, that they were kindred souls. They reminded him of the uncomplicated friendships he had had as a child, back in the old neighborhood. He went closer, feigning interest in their game, and saw a complicated position from which his own knowledge offered no way out. He ventured to speak to them, saying he could not understand why the whites had given up.

Are you interested in chess? they asked, and Coltodino said, yes, very much, it's my favorite game.

Gunard sipped at his drink and said, look, the next move is this, and then this, and that way you get to this. He explained it very quickly, and Coltodino did not even understand, but did not say so. He asked them if they always played on Sun­days. Oslovski looked at him and said, we come to the beach to play in peace. Coltodino begged their pardon, I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, to which Oslovski replied, I'm not saying that because of you, if you're interested in chess you have something in common with us, come, sit down, and so Coltodino was accepted that Sunday afternoon and was able to chat with them and ask them things, until he said, you both play really well, you must have won a few tournaments in your time, I guess? Ferenck and Gunard looked at each other and nodded, but Oslovski added, all that happened a long time ago, it isn't worth remembering.

Coltodino drank his beer as he listened to them, and said, how is it that the two of you, who not only have a passion for chess, but also play it brilliantly, never wanted to take it farther? and Gunard said, there's too much pressure to deal with. Oslovski confirmed his friend's words, and added, what prize in the world is greater then this? Watching the sun set over the sea, playing with a friend, eating and drinking, eh? That's life, friend, what a privilege it is to be alive, would you like a sandwich?

Eric Coltodino took many notes in the three days he was with them. Before leaving he confessed to them who he was and what he was planning to do with their story. Gunard shrugged and Oslovski said, at least offer us a few drinks, and that resolved the matter, much to Coltodino's relief. He took photographs of them with different backgrounds, the port, the sea, and the walls of Jaffa.

The article was published two months later in the
Chicago Tribune
, under the title
The Oslovski & Flø Variation
, the name Coltodino chose to describe their approach to the game. It was a great success. Never before had he received so many letters or comments from readers.

I was one of those readers, my dear listeners, and I want to tell you, by way of conclusion, that until a very short time ago you could still see that couple of old men moving the chess pieces on the sand, drinking vodka and waving their hands as a sign of disagreement over some game, which was the greatest thing in their lives.

And that is the end of my story.

 

 

The events I am about to relate all happened to a man named Ramón Melo García, who lived in the town of La Cascada, in the department of Meta, in the Plains region of Colombia. Ramón was a good man, hardworking and honest. By the time he was twenty-nine, he already owned three auto repair shops, two in the town and another on the road to Granada, where he also sold soda, coffee, meat pies, and donuts. He had a total of twelve employees, working for minimum salary but with a percentage on outside repairs, Christmas bonuses, paid vacations, and health insurance. They all liked Ramón, because he wasn't a boss who gave orders from his office, but a worker like them, with his greasy uniform and his fingers covered in cuts and blisters. The little finger on his left hand was missing: at the age of fifteen he had caught it in a fan on a bus. As he would say, God cut off the finger I used for cleaning my ear, which must have been a message to stop listening to so much crap. And he would get back to work.

In the evenings, after work, he would go to see his girlfriend, Soraya Mora, who was twenty-six, had studied IT and secretarial skills, and worked in an internet café called La Maporita at the corner of Calle Tercera and the Parque Boyacá. He would sit down at one of the computers, look at his messages, check his Facebook account, and sit there for a while, chatting, drinking soda, and showing her photographs of his friends. At eight o'clock they would both go to Soraya's house for dinner; her mother, Doña Matilde, would make fish soup and pork and sometimes corn pancakes, because she was a peasant woman from Santa Fe de Antioquia.

After dinner, they would sit in the doorway and watch the people passing by, and Soraya would say, when are you going to ask for my hand, Ramón? you're putting me to sleep with all this waiting, and he would say, calm down, Sorayita, you know I will. Of course I know, but when, next year? my mother asked me the other day, and so did my brother. Is your brother back? Yes, he just got back from Medellín, he's working in an office. And what kind of work does he do? What kind of work do you think? office work, I don't know, but it's well paid, about a million and a half pesos, maybe even more, yesterday he brought Mamá a gold necklace, and some earrings for me. Tell him I'd like to see him, tell him to drop by the shop whenever he likes, and we'll go have a few beers. Then Ramón would go home to sleep. He lived with his mother and an aunt, who were both seventy years old. At weekends, he and Soraya would go out dancing and drinking, almost always with his best friend, Jacinto Gómez Estupiñán, and Jacinto's wife Araceli Ramos. Most times, they went to a nightclub called the Rey de la Pachanga, on the road to Cubarral, next to the bridge over the River Ariari, and there they would drink and dance until it was time to spend a while at the Llano Grande motel. Jacinto and he had studied at the teacher training college in Cubarral and then taken their higher certificate in Villavicen­cio. As both were only sons and their mothers close friends, they had grown up together. Jacinto had a farm near Lejanías and raised cattle.

But the situation in the region was becoming complicated.

The 39th Front of the FARC operated around La Cascada, under the command of Mono Jojoy, and in 2004 the Héroes de los Llanos, an urban paramilitary militia, arrived, led by a man known as Dagoberto, a former lieutenant in the army who had worked as a foreman on a farm growing African palms before taking up arms again. La Cascada had become a strategic route in the drug trade and the paramilitaries began extorting money from local businesses and asking for information about FARC members. About a week after they arrived, the first bodies appeared in ditches. One of them was the body of Braulio Suárez Acevedo, a waiter from the Brisas restaurant, and the other, Alfredo Mora Cañizares, an assistant at the Don Saludero drugstore. They had been tortured with candles, their testicles had been cut off, and each had been shot three times. They had signs pinned to their backs that said:
I am a traitor to my country
. The people who saw them did not dare approach, and the bodies lay there almost the whole day. Just after nightfall, the police arrived in a van, identified them, and took them to the morgue at the local hospital.

Ramón did not see the bodies, but he had known Braulio Suárez Acevedo, who, as far as he was aware, had no connections with the FARC. One of his employees said to him, no, Don Ramón, of course he didn't have anything to do with the FARC, what happened was that he didn't want to pay the paras, that's all, anyone who doesn't pay them, they say he's with the guerrillas and they take him away, yesterday apparently they took Jesús Torres, the guy who works at the La Ceiba pool hall, who didn't have anything to pay them with and didn't want to give them the deeds to some land he owned, so they took him away, he'll show up in a ditch, that's for sure, nobody escapes those guys.

They hadn't yet come to Ramón's auto repair shop to ask for money, but he knew it was only a matter of time. A few days later, they did come, not to ask for money but to leave him two vans to be repaired. One had a blocked carburetor and the relay was missing; with the other one, he repaired the starting mechanism and the spark plugs and changed the brake pads. When they came back for the vehicles, Ramón handed the bill to the man known as Dagoberto, who looked at it, put it in his pocket, and said, thanks, I hope you did a good job, I've been told you're the only reliable mechanic around here. Ramón looked at him without saying a word, turned, and continued with his work, which involved stripping a camshaft on a Chevrolet dump truck.

More or less once a week, they left him vehicles to fix. One day they brought him a Cherokee with seven bullet holes in it, and said, Ramón, let's see if you can do a job on this piece of shit, look what a mess they made of it. Come back in a week, I'll get rid of those nasty holes, it's a nice car. They did not come for it after a week, but one of the men said to him, Dagoberto told me to tell you that he's selling it, so keep it and you can pay him later. But I don't know if I can afford it, it must be worth about thirty million, right? better if you take it away, I don't have the money. The chief said we should leave it, if you don't want it, talk to him about it. They went away and Ramón left it parked in back of the shop.

As it was Saturday, he went to La Ceiba to meet Jacinto, because Soraya had to stay at home to look after her mother. They had a few glasses of aguardiente and he told his friend about the car. This Dagoberto guy told me I should keep it and pay him later, but I don't have the money, a pity, it's a great car. But Jacinto said: if I were you I'd hold on to it, these guys have a lot of money, they might get themselves killed, and you end up with a car, so don't be stupid, tell them yes, they haven't even told you when you have to pay, so do it, if the worst comes to the worst you can pay them off by doing more repairs for them. No, Jacinto, I don't like these people, I prefer to have things I bought with my own money, not like that.

The next day he told Soraya about it, and said he was going to give back the car that evening, but she said, oh, Ramón, you really are an idiot, why give it back if they're giving it to you? I love that car, it's really classy, it looks great, keep it, you won't be sorry, you'll see, in fact, why don't you take me out now for a drive? No, Sorayita, if I use that car and something happens I'll be in trouble. What's going to happen? If something does happen, you can fix it, you're a mechanic, aren't you? go on, give me a ride, Ramoncito. O.K., darling, but only a short ride, come on.

On the Wednesday of the following week, one of the paramilitaries came to the shop and said to Ramón: Dagoberto wants to know when you're going to pay him the thirty million you owe him, he needs it by the end of the month. I don't owe him any money, I already told him I can't buy the car, I don't have that kind of money. What do you mean you're not going to buy it? you already took your girlfriend out for a drive, didn't you? Dagoberto wants the money by the end of the month. No, look, this is a misunderstanding, the only reason I took it out was to test drive it, because I also had to fix the electrical system, that's why I gave it a spin, to charge the battery and leave it ready, it's parked out there, you can take it away with you now if you like.

Another week passed, and nobody came until one day the police from Villavicencio showed up. They gave the Cherokee the once-over, checked the serial number of the engine, and told Ramón that the car had been stolen in Bogotá, was it his, if not, whose was it? Ramón said it belonged to a man he didn't know, he didn't even know the name. And what kind of work did you do on it? We fixed the ignition, the starting mechanism, and the condenser. I have it parked out there to see if they come for it, but I don't know who it belongs to. The police towed away the Cherokee and took Ramón with them. As they left town he saw two of the paramilitaries in the Caleñita store. They both watched him until the police car disappeared around the bend.

He was kept in Villavicencio for three days, until it became clear that he was not to blame. He did not give them the name of Dagoberto or anyone else. About a hundred times they asked him who the car belonged to, and a hundred times he said, a man who isn't from La Cascada, they left it with me and I repaired it, but I don't know the man's name, that's the way I work. When he returned home, Jacinto and Soraya came to see him, looking worried, and he said, you see what a gift they gave me, the car was stolen, didn't I tell you it's better to have your own things honestly?

Three days later, a messenger came from Dagoberto, with two other guys. They arrived in a Toyota 4x4. Ramón was partly underneath a Hyundai taxi and did not bother to come out. He said to them: what kind of trouble have you gotten me into? the Cherokee was stolen. I didn't tell the police anything, I didn't give them any names, you can sleep easy, there won't be any problems. But the guys said to him: what Dagoberto wants to know is when you're going to pay him the thirty million you owe him, and if you don't pay him, then give back the car.

Ramón took his head out from under the Hyundai and said, don't you get it or what? the police in Villavicencio took the car away and they're holding on to it because it was stolen, I don't have anything to do with that and I don't owe anything to anyone. The police took it away? The guys looked at each other. Well, what happened to the car is your problem, but you still have to pay the chief. We'll be back for the money next Monday, got that?

Ramón watched them go. He felt very angry, but he didn't say anything. That night, he said to Soraya: they got me into trouble and now they want me to pay for the car, can you imagine, and there was I, protecting them from the police, like an idiot, what I should have done was name names and let them go fuck themselves. Don't talk like that, Ramoncito, the best thing to do is sort it out once and for all. Can't you see, these people are really dangerous. Yes, that's why it's better to do things legally, Sorayita. On Saturday I'll go to Villavicencio and talk to the police again and tell them everything, let these guys go to jail and leave me alone.

That Friday night, over a beer, he said to Jacinto, no, brother, I can't go to the Rey de la Pachanga tonight because I'm getting up early tomorrow to go to Villavicencio. He told him this in a low voice. I'm going to talk to the police, can you believe it, those sons of bitches want to rob me, after I protected them, idiot that I was. Careful, brother, these people are tough. Yes, but the bastards aren't going to bring me down, all I ever did was do them favors and this is how they repay me, it's not right, it's not how things should be done.

The next day Ramón got in his Land Rover at six in the morning, filled his tank at the Texaco station, and drove out toward Granada in order to come out onto the road that would take him to Acacías and Villavicencio. The same guys who had come to the shop stopped him on the bridge over the River Ariari, and said to him, where are you going so early, Ramoncho? I'm going to Granada to buy equipment. And to go to Granada, you had to fill her up? I thought you were going farther than that, Ramoncho. The thing is, I always like to have her well filled, you never know. Good, we were waiting for you here because we need you to come with us, Dagoberto wants to talk to you. Is it about the Cherokee? I don't know, Ramoncho, I don't know, I imagine it is, come with us and work it out with him yourself, that's the best thing, come on now, Miguelito will drive your car, come on, get out.

He was tempted to accelerate suddenly and leave them in the lurch, but their Toyota was faster than his Land Rover and they would soon catch up with him and pump him full of lead. The best thing to do was gain time and go with them. He got out of the Land Rover and into the Toyota. So, Ramoncho, why are you up so early? The driver of the Toyota was Dagoberto's bodyguard, whose name was Nelson. I'm not sleeping too well these days, that's why I take advantage of the morning and do my errands early, but what about you, what's the hurry? No hurry, the chief just wants to talk to you and as he's an early riser, too, we decided to wait for you here.

Ramón preferred not to ask the question that was aching to get out. How did they know he was going to leave early? why were they waiting for him that particular day? who had told them? They had gone a couple of miles when one of the men in the back seat, who was well armed, said to him, Ramoncho, from here on, we're going to do the journey in the dark, O.K.? They blindfolded him and tied his hands with wire. Why are you tying me up, I'm not going to run away, I just want to get this whole thing sorted out properly, you know I have money, there are my shops and my things, if you like we can sort it out here among ourselves, once and for all, what's the point of making things worse, what do you think, guys? But the men said to him, shut your mouth, son of a bitch, stop talking crap, go to sleep, try to get some rest, you're going to need it later, and so Ramón fell silent, still thinking, over and over, how did they know? how did they know? He had only told Jacinto and Soraya, and it was impossible, what could have betrayed him? impossible, impossible.