Needle in a Haystack (17 page)

Giribaldi can’t believe his eyes when he sees Maisabé come out of the sacristy, closely followed by Roberto.
She seems like she’s walking on air, her whole face has changed, become illuminated, serene and harmonious. Her hands hold the little one with loving tenderness and, when she passes Giribaldi’s side, she gives him a soft smile, as if from another world. Giribaldi feels, and holds back, a strong urge to cry, which immediately turns to a sense of terror.

Lascano drops in at the police mechanics workshop and picks up his car. He’s been told to present himself before his superior at ten. He plunges into the city’s traffic.

His boss is known as Blue Dollar, because even a complete fool can tell how false he is. Lascano wonders what his boss wants. Perro knows he’ll have to be very careful. Rumour has it that Blue Dollar sent several policemen into a trap from which no one came out alive. They say that’s how he gets people off his back, especially those who stick their nose into his business. Blue Dollar runs a kickback racket linked to the allocation of police jurisdictions. If a superintendent wants to be in charge of a particular police station, he has to pay a price for the keys. Different jurisdictions naturally have different prices. The First is the most valued and sought after. Given its downtown location, it’s the one that brings in the most profitable business. It’s got everything: bars, nightclubs, whores, traffickers, homosexuals, bankers, businessmen; everyone has something to hide, something they need, something to disguise. All this means a licence to print money. Lascano has always steered clear of the system, never shown any interest in
getting involved, which suits him fine, but makes those that are embroiled very suspicious.

Near Congreso, Lascano checks his watch and sees he’s right on time. At three minutes to ten he enters police headquarters via the Moreno entrance
.
He skirts around the courtyard of palm trees, heads up to the second floor and, at ten on the dot, knocks on Blue Dollar’s door. The boss has company, someone Lascano immediately sees is military, and an acidic bubble bursts in his stomach.

Lascano’s boss puts on his cap and the tailored jacket of his uniform and leaves the office. Giribaldi takes his seat behind the desk.

The military man studies the policeman in silence, his fists tightly clenched on the desk. He lets out a sigh and reclines in his seat.

Perro doesn’t wait around for the lift, descending the stairs at full pelt. The bubble in his stomach turns into a fireball. He fears he’s going to be picked up at the very door to police headquarters. He strides out to the street corner, jumps in his car and pulls away. Two blocks on, he puts his flashing light on the roof and crosses the city like a demon, without stopping at a single traffic light,
snaking through the crazy morning traffic and not even lighting a single cigarette the whole journey. When he gets home, he parks any old place, without even wasting time on locking the door. He bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind.

At that same moment, two men, one tall and well-built, with a good beer belly, the other short, grey-haired and skinny, enter the Bitermans’ building. They get to the fourth floor just as Horacio comes out of his door carrying a suitcase. They address him by his name and when he replies that yes, it’s him, Grey pulls out a pistol and puts a bullet in his head. Horacio’s shoes are left where he was standing, but he goes on a brief flight, ending when his head smashes into the wall and his body spills to the floor, eyes open. A torrent of blood immediately starts to pour out of him. When the echoes of the gunshot die out, Beer Belly catches the sound of the neighbour shutting the spyhole. Grey motions with his head. Belly goes over to the neighbour’s door, takes out his gun and cocks it. He rings the bell. The peephole shutter slides open and the neighbour’s voice asks who’s there. Belly puts the barrel of his gun into the little window and pulls the trigger. On the other side, the sound of the neighbour’s body falling to the floor is heard. When Belly turns around, Grey is already waiting in the lift. Belly catches him up and they leave.

Lascano slams the door, making Eva jump out of her skin.

Eva’s reaction is immediate and extremely efficient. She quickly finds and gathers what’s most important. The experience of several years’ clandestine existence means she knows the order of priorities, the order to pack the bag. But she hates the return of this dizzy fleeing feeling. While she concentrates on her task, Lascano picks up the phone.

Eva holds the bag in one hand, the door open with the other.

They hurry out. Lascano stops.

Perro turns on his heels and goes over to the birdcage. He opens the lid and takes the bird out carefully in his hand, goes over to the window, opens it and lets it loose.

The house is quiet. The bird stands with its tiny claws on the balcony handrail. From nowhere, fast as lightning, a cat jumps out, grabs the bird in its paws and sinks its fangs into its head, making the skull
crack
like a nut.

Wood pigeons flutter in the eucalyptus trees. It’s a splendid morning. Winter has yet to completely dull the brilliant symphony of autumn ochres. Amancio is sitting on the porch at La Rencorosa, dressed in his baggy country trousers, espadrilles, gaucho shirt and suede jacket, with a red handkerchief tied around his neck. He’s feeling relaxed for the first time in ages and entertains himself reading the obituaries in
La Nación
. All he has to do is sit and wait until the whole Biterman business blows over. Giribaldi will put the cop in his place and then Amancio will be able to get back to handling his affairs in the city. He plans to light the barbecue with the cheques and guarantees he signed for Biterman.

When he’s out in the country, a rural feeling takes control of him, even the way he talks. At his side, Lara, as usual, is polishing her nails. As far as she’s concerned, the countryside is a dreadful place where live chickens wander about and, in protest, she dresses and dolls herself up as if she were going shopping in Santa Fe. She doesn’t understand why they have to be out there. Amancio hasn’t really explained the situation, as he fears she’ll use it against him one day. Doña Lola comes out of the kitchen with the implements for the
mate
and
places them on the little table between them. Lara finds
mate
disgusting.

He ignores the comment and enjoys the simple pleasure of having her here with him, in a sense captive, with no place she can go, with no possibility of meeting up with the Pole, Ramiro or whoever else. Along the road that leads to the ranch, a breeze swirls the fallen leaves into the air. Amancio looks up. Down by the gate, a Ford Falcon has arrived with two men inside. No further details are required to determine they’re Giribaldi’s people. They’ve doubtless come to tell Amancio that everything has been sorted out. He calls Doña Lola and tells her to go and open the gate for them. He gets to his feet and adopts his best master-of-the-ranch pose. The woman hurries down the drive, mechanically drying her hands on a dishcloth as she goes. The car comes in and pauses as it passes Doña Lola, the driver speaking to her briefly. She stays down by the gate, without closing it. The car gets to the porch, the man in the passenger seat gets out, walks around the back of the car and stands five paces away from Amancio. Lara has hitched up her skirt a few inches so that the visitors can admire her magnificent legs.

In reply, the man pulls out a pistol and fires. A flock of pigeons goes into flight, abandoning the formidable branches of the eucalyptus. Amancio topples over, dragging down the thermos flask, the
mate
and the cruet set holding the sugar and the
yerba
. Lara’s paralysed,
her bottom jaw left hanging, her pretty face glazed over in stupid astonishment. The killer points the barrel at her and shoots. With the force of the impact, Lara’s head makes a circular movement and her lovely hair whirls about as if in a shampoo commercial, then she falls, along with her seat and everything else, down into the geraniums. The killer goes over to the dead bodies and fires point-blank into each of their temples. He heads back to the car, which the driver has already spun around to face the exit, gets in and off they go. At the gate, Doña Lola, terrified, immobile, pale as a ghost, clutches the dishcloth. The Falcon drives up alongside her and halts, the driver sticks a gun out of the window, she raises the dishcloth as if it were a shield. The man shoots her through the cloth and then, as she lies sprawled in a clump of clover, he finishes her off with another bullet. The car drives through the gate and heads back to wherever it came from.

The warbling of the birds slowly returns, the wind plays with the leaves, the wood pigeons fly back to their nests and the dust clouds left by the visitors gently settle.