Renaldo (114 page)

associate of Doctor Quinquela’s.”

“Very well, Señor, please hold the line.”

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RENALDO

Renaldo felt his palms growing moist from nervous anticipation as he

waited. Several minutes passed until,

“Hello, this is Doctor Quinquela. Who am I speaking to, please?”

“Doctor, this is Renaldo De Seta. I believe that my late father was an

associate of yours at the Children’s Hospital. If this is a bad time for you, I can

call back later.”

“My dear boy, this is an honor above all expectation. Of course, I knew

your father. He was a great surgeon. We were very close friends as well! Why,

I was with him in England when he was . . .”

Renaldo could tell that the doctor was suddenly feeling some discomfort.

“Don’t worry, Doctor. I know that you were with him when he was killed.

It was my mother who gave me your name. I was wondering if you might have

a few minutes to see me in the next day or so. There are some things that I

would very much like to discuss with you on a rather personal level. I won’t

take up much of your time, say maybe half an hour.”

“Renaldo, I have taken the last week off from the hospital to fully immerse

myself in the tournament. As a matter of fact, I was at River Plate to see your

dazzling performance yesterday. You were magnificent. Your father would have

been very proud of you! Unfortunately, I must go back to a very heavy schedule

tomorrow. I am now an administrator as well as a surgeon. But I could see you

right now. Are you free to stop by my home in the next hour or so?”

The appointment was made without hesitation, then a second call was

placed, this time to the Hotel Presidente.

“Hello.”

“Simone, it’s Renaldo. I was afraid that you would get bored waiting for

me and leave. I’m sorry that things have taken so long, but I have one more stop

to make before I return. Is that all right? Will you wait for me?”

“Of course, my love. There is nowhere in the world I would rather be

than here with you tonight! Actually, I have quite enjoyed myself. After all the

activity of the last few weeks, it is a treat to lay in bed watching television and

ordering room service whenever I feel like it. We will have a romantic dinner

right here in the suite when you return, so hurry and complete your business. I

have many more things to teach you, my darling.”

Renaldo sat staring at the receiver as the drone of the disconnected phone

line hummed in his ear. Her last comment had rekindled the passions that

she had awakened in him the night before. It was only the thought of his

forthcoming audience with Dr. Quinquela that restored him to his normal

‘state,’ allowing him to rise from the desk and make his way to the kitchen to

say good-bye to Oli.

“I am on my way, Oli. Tomorrow night, Mama and I will be dining

together here at the casa, so put on your best spread, for I am a ravenous animal

after being locked up for a month.”

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JAMES McCREATH

He gave the lady-servant a big hug, then grabbed a set of keys off one of

the hooks by the kitchen door.

“I am going to take the MGB, so tell Mama if she asks where it has gone.

I’ll be home for a nice long stay tomorrow afternoon. See you then.”

“You be careful driving, Señor Renaldo. The streets are full of crazy

people!”

He was through the doorway and into the garage before she finished her

warning. The thrill of sitting behind the wheel of the little red sports car was

an unexpected rush. It had been over four months since he had driven any

vehicle at all, what with being sequestered with the National Team, and then

suffering his foot injury. He wanted to put the roof down and feel the wind

flying through his hair, but Oli’s parting caution had reminded him of his

newfound celebrity status.
Besides, with all this traffic congestion, I would never get

up enough speed to feel even the slightest hint of a breeze,
he rationalized.

He would leave the roof and windows up during his travels today. It was

not worth being recognized and having a swarm of autograph-hungry fanatics

climb all over his red beauty. There would be time another day for a ride with

the roof down, perhaps in the country. Possibly a trip to Pergamino to tell his

English grandmother that he was going to be living in London for the next

two years.

‘Maybe Grandmother Lydia would be willing to travel back to the old

country and visit me once I get established. She could introduce me to those

funny English relatives she used to tell stories about. Yes, a trip to Pergamino

will definitely be on the agenda for later in the week!’ His left foot depressed

the clutch, and the red rocket bolted out of the garage and through the front

gates of Casa San Marco.

As was the case with his brother Lonnie’s fate, Renaldo had no way of

knowing that he would never take that drive to Pergamino. At that very

moment, his grandmother was being admitted to Hospital Rivadavia in

extremely grave condition. It had been Nana Taseo, the head housekeeper at the

estancia, who had insisted on the Señora leaving Pergamino to seek immediate

medical attention.

Lydia had initially dismissed her strange malady as nothing more than a

case of the flu and refused to have a doctor attend to her. But by the twenty-

fourth of June, her condition had deteriorated to such a degree that Señora Taseo

had alerted Florencia De Seta in Buenos Aires. The housekeeper had asked for

emergency assistance to be standing by if her employer’s health continued to

slide downhill. The matriarch was barely conscious by the afternoon of the

twenty-fifth, but she insisted on having the television set moved into her

bedroom. There was no way that she was going to miss her grandson playing

in the most important soccer game of his life.

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RENALDO

Within an hour of the final whistle confirming Renaldo as a world

champion, Lydia De Seta had lapsed into a coma. Nana Taseo had hoped that

a good showing by Renaldo would lift the lady’s spirits, as well as her waning

constitution. For that reason, she had waited until after the match to make

her report to Florencia. The instant that Argentina was crowned champion of

the football universe, every telephone circuit in or out of the capital city was

jammed indefinitely. Hundreds of the working press had to get their stories to

the wire services. Thousands of ordinary citizens wanted to share their euphoria

with far distant friends and relatives. Nana Taseo found it futile trying to get

through to Florencia, and she would not sit idly by waiting for a miracle to

happen. She conscripted Oliviero Brown to make Lydia’s old, but impeccably

maintained Bentley ready for a speedy trip to Buenos Aires. She then bundled

up the elderly lady in warm blankets and had her carried to the waiting vehicle.

With Oliviero at the wheel, and Nana fretting over her unconscious patient

in the rear compartment, the makeshift ambulance sped off into the Pampas

night.

The drive was unusually slow and arduous, however, due to the celebratory

tidal wave that had engulfed the entire populous. Roads were jammed with

overcrowded vehicles. These were more often than not piloted by extremely

intoxicated drivers. No one was in a hurry, everyone wanted to party, and the

whole country seemed headed toward Buenos Aires. The trip from Pergamino

took over twenty frustrating, critical hours to complete, and the telephone lines

remained overloaded that entire time.

Florencia De Seta would have no idea that her mother-in-law was in

Buenos Aires until Oliviero Brown arrived at Casa San Marco bearing the news

late in the evening of the twenty-sixth. Brown’s message was blunt and to the

point.

“Nana Taseo requests that Señora Florencia and a priest come to Señora

Lydia’s hospital bedside immediately. She doesn’t have much time left!”

Luckily, Lydia De Seta was made of stern stuff. Even at her advanced age,

she was fighter and would not easily succumb to the assassin’s foul hand. She

lay near death in Hospital Rivadavia for two days while the top pathologists

in the land tried to analyze the source of her strange affliction. It was a visit

from her grandson, Renaldo, in the evening of the twenty-seventh, that was

unofficially credited with saving the lady’s life. The sparkle seemed to return

to Lydia’s eyes when she suddenly awoke and recognized the handsome figure

standing at her bedside. She then managed to raise herself ever so slightly from

her prone position and whisper the word “champion” in his ear.

The young man stayed the entire night in her private room, and with the

dawn of the twenty-eighth of June, the medical staff was amazed by Lydia’s

improved condition. She would remain in the hospital for a further two weeks

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to recover her strength and allow for further tests to be taken, and by mid-July,

she was back at Buenos Recuerdos in much improved health and spirits.

The sudden disappearance of kitchen maid, Esquela Perez, while Lydia

was in the capital never became connected to the elderly lady’s illness. It would

turn out that the grateful servant had been overzealous in her desire to please

Pablo and the German doctor. She had increased the recommended dosage of

‘medicine’ threefold to speed up the desired results. That small gesture had

sent the English lady spiralling downward much faster than anticipated. It also

tipped Nana Taseo off to the seriousness of her employer’s situation, thus saving

her life. When word reached the Pampas that Lydia De Seta would survive her

ordeal, Pablo was quick to rid the world of his sweet little accomplice. A simple

note was left at Buenos Requerdos, informing the staff that Esquela Perez had

eloped with a gaucho from a neighboring estancia. She would never be heard

from again.

The young Porteño had never been this terrified in his life. The monster

surged from behind, almost engulfing them at times. The red, white, and blue

torrent was gaining on them, hurling insults along with rocks and bottles.

He knew all too well what would happen should they be overtaken, for this

monster was both human and inhuman.

“Father?”

Renaldo sat bolt upright in bed. His body was covered in perspiration.

Simone, awakened from a deep sleep by her lover’s terror-stricken cry, reached

for the lamp on her night table.

“Renaldo, what is it? Were you having a bad dream? Are you alright? Tell

me what I can do?”

She had never seen him so white with fear, his complexion as pale as the

sheet that they slept on. Simone pulled the blanket around his shoulders and

stroked his brow. He was shaking, but not because he was cold.

“I saw my father! Saw how he died! Simone, I never realized until the doctor

told me. We both were chased by angry mobs leaving a football stadium. It

happened to me in Córdoba last December. I was lucky and managed to escape.

The same thing happened to my father in England back in 1966. Except he

didn’t get away.”

He sat on the bed wrapped in the covers, swaying slightly back and forth

from the waist. Letting out a deep sigh, he continued.

“He was leaving Wembley Stadium with his friends from Argentina after

England beat us out of the World Cup competition. The game had been very

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rough. Our captain was sent off after an argument with the referee, but he

refused to go. He had to be led away. The English hated our team, and our fans.

They taunted my father and his friends the whole game, calling them ‘greasy

spics’ and ‘grease balls.’ Some of the group from Buenos Aires took offense and

tried to stand up to the hooligans. That only made things worse.”

Renaldo’s voice was hoarse, his speech little more than a strained croaking

sound.

“When the game was over, even though England had won, a large gang

of thugs waited for the men from Argentina outside the stadium. Then they

attacked them!” He was sobbing now, coming to grips with all the bottled