Authors: James McCreath
62
The telegraph operator at the train station in Pergamino sat in disbelief
staring at the notepad on which he had been transcribing an incoming
message.
“Surely there must be a mistake, this could not have happened.” He asked
for verification, for the full transmission to be repeated. The message came
through exactly the same the second time.
‘General Figueroa San Marco, his wife, and three daughters have been
assassinated by a terrorist bomb in front of the Cathedral Metropolitana in
Buenos Aires today, Sunday, 12 November, 1905. Stop. Notify Lonfranco De
Seta to inform the staff at Buenos Recuerdos. Stop. Señor De Seta is then to
make all haste to Buenos Aires. Stop. Contact the sender at once upon arrival.
Stop. Signed Señor Lopez Bucharo, Attorney at Law, 1538 Avenue Paseo Colon,
Buenos Aires. Stop.’
Tears welled in the telegraph operator’s eyes as he called for his young
apprentice to saddle a horse and ride like the wind to fetch Lonfranco De Seta
to the station. He told the boy only that an urgent message awaited De Seta,
and that the Italian must come at once to retrieve it.
The operator refused to transmit any further communication for the next
two and a half hours. He pulled the blind down on the door, locked it, and
hung out the closed sign. He then sat down behind the keypad and wept.
Only when the young apprentice was heard pleading with him to open up did
he rise from his chair. An irritated Lonfranco De Seta stood before him in the
fading sunlight. Silently he handed General San Marco’s executive assistant the
cablegram.
The following week was the bleakest time in Lonfranco’s life. He operated
in a numbing vacuum, always efficient, but somehow detached emotionally
from the events that swirled around him. Throughout the torturous days and
nights, two questions never left his mind.
The first was whether he could have saved the general and his family
had he been present at the cathedral. The second, what should be done about
informing Maria in Paris about the tragedy?
Was it too cruel to inform her by telegraph, so far away and with only a
paid governess to comfort her? What else could be done?
JAMES McCREATH
He would gladly have booked passage immediately to bring her home,
but the newspapers would certainly break the story on the continent before his
arrival. If he didn’t notify her of his plans, he might in all likelihood pass her
traveling in the opposite direction, if she had already heard the news. That was
too great a risk, so he decided to send a cable informing her of the tragedy as
gently as possible. He would remain in Argentina and attend to the mountains
of bureaucratic documentation that was piled on his desk.
He assured Maria that he would stay by her side until she felt that she
had a sufficient grasp of the estate matters, and requested that the general’s
only surviving heir cable him with her travel arrangements, so that he could be
prepared to meet her.
As for his own future, he was certain that his involvement with the
San Marco family was at an end, and that he would be seeking employment
elsewhere as soon as Maria had a working knowledge of the general’s business
ventures.
Señor Bucharo had been most helpful in explaining the terms of the
general’s will in a very broad sense. It stipulated that until any of the San
Marco’s surviving issue turned thirty years of age, their share of the estate was
to be administered by the appointed executors, whose number included Bucharo
himself. What he didn’t tell Lonfranco about was a far more contentious clause
in the will that could change the interpretation of the entire document.
Lonfranco was given the impression that once a reconciliation of the
estate’s assets had been completed, his services would no longer be required
in the management of the San Marco business interests. After all, he was only
twenty-two years of age, with no formal education, and an immigrant as well.
Bucharo was unaware of the faith that the general had demonstrated
in the young Italian’s business acumen. Their personal relationship was not
documented in any of the papers at the lawyer’s disposal. Lonfranco was not
mentioned in the general’s will, an instrument which had been executed some
thirteen years earlier on the birth of his youngest daughter.
The more knowledgeable that Bucharo became about the intricacies of the
San Marco holdings, the colder and more offhand he became with Lonfranco.
He finally told the young man that he should start to look for new lodging
in Buenos Aires, that it would now be inappropriate for him to reside in the
guest suite of Casa San Marco, as he had done in the past, whenever business
brought him to the capital. The general’s unmarried daughter commanded
more respect, he had been told.
Lonfranco took the advice and moved his belongings into a one-room flat
in the San Telmo barrio. It seemed to him that Bucharo wanted the general’s
trusted assistant totally out of the picture by the time Maria arrived from the
continent. She had cabled Lonfranco of her scheduled arrival date and had told
him that she was holding up as well as possible.
64
RENALDO
The last function that Lonfranco would perform for the general was to
carry his saber in the state funeral procession that wound its way through the
streets of the capital.
President Roca had declared two days of public mourning, during which
time the casket would lay in state in the Cabildo, the national legislature.
Newspapers hailed San Marco as a great hero, a man of the people who
gave his life so that Argentines everywhere could be free of terrorism. The
funeral procession was the most elaborate seen in the capital in many years.
Full military honors included squadrons of soldiers on foot and on horseback,
military bands playing sorrowful laments, and dignitaries and socialites in their
carriages. In addition, masses of common citizens marched to the cemetery to
pay their final respects.
Lonfranco marched beside President Roca, carrying the drawn saber
at waist level, horizontally, between his two hands. They followed directly
behind the casket that sat on an artillery caisson, covered by the national
flag of Argentina and surrounded by elaborate wreaths of flowers. Behind the
President and Lonfranco followed the hearses carrying the remains of the four
San Marco women.
The Italian’s distraught mind thought most often of the younger daughters,
and how they had played and laughed during their all too short friendship. He
would have laid down his life for those beautiful children, but now they were
gone from him forever.
Lonfranco was distressed to see Lopez Bucharo standing on the pier the day
that Maria’s ship arrived in Buenos Aires. The two men eyed each other coldly,
then Bucharo broke the silence with his condescending upper-class accent.
“You need not stay but a few minutes, Lonfranco. Señorita San Marco will
accompany me directly to my office to attend to certain legal matters that are of
urgent importance. Please keep your condolences brief. I am sure that she will
be in touch with you once she is has adjusted to her new circumstances.”
“Perhaps we should let Maria decide where she wants to go and with
whom,” Lonfranco replied curtly.
“I have been in touch with Señorita San Marco prior to her departure from
Le Havre. She is aware of the importance of a smooth transfer of the family assets
to the trust that the executors have set up. She will keep this appointment, and
I will not tolerate any interference from you. Good day to you, sir!”
The lawyer turned on his heel and walked haughtily down the quay.
65
JAMES McCREATH
Maria looked surprisingly composed as she descended the gangway.
Lonfranco had ingeniously tipped a porter several hundred pesos to borrow
his red cap and jacket. These would enable him to gain access to the restricted
embarkation area. He was standing at the foot of the ramp as she touched
Argentine soil again. At first she did not recognize him in his disguise, but as
soon as he removed the cap she fell sobbing into his arms. Bucharo, who was
watching the scene in a rage from behind the fenced visitor’s area, tried calling
her name as loudly as possible, but to no avail.
As soon as Maria regained her composure, Lonfranco spirited her and the
real porter to the baggage area where they were able to engage in a lengthy
conversation while they awaited her luggage. Señor Bucharo had little success
in bribing the police officer that stood at the entrance to the secured baggage
compound. He was told that he would be arrested if he tried to enter the restricted
area and to remain with the other visitors behind the fence. Humiliated and
seething with anger, he retreated as ordered.
The lawyer was able to control his temper, however, when he introduced
himself to Señorita San Marco with a great flourish as she and her two porters
swept past him on their way to the carriage that Lonfranco had hired for the
day.
“Señorita San Marco, my deepest sympathies. I am Lopez Bucharo,
attorney-at-law. We were in communication before you left the continent. I
trust you had as pleasant a crossing as possible under the circumstances. I am
the chief executor of your father’s estate, and as I informed you, we have some
very pressing matters to address right away. If you would be so kind as to
accompany me in my carriage, we can proceed directly to my office where the
documentation is all prepared and awaiting your signature.”
Maria could barely control her disgust at what she considered an untimely
intrusion.
“Señor Bucharo, I realize that this is all very important to you, but I am
tired and heartbroken, and I am going home now and nowhere else. I will see
you at Casa San Marco tomorrow morning at ten, if you can make it there. If
not, you may call and book an appointment at a later date. Good day, Señor.”
Bucharo stood slack-jawed in amazement as Maria and the two men
continued on their way past him. Never had he been talked to in such an
insulting manner by a mere snippet of a girl.
This must be De Seta’s influence
, the attorney ruminated.
He must be removed
from the picture at once. As for the señorita, I will deal with the haughty little puta in
my own way, when the time is right!
66
RENALDO
Lopez Bucharo stood in the entrance portico of Casa San Marco at exactly
ten o’clock the following morning. He was shown into the general’s den and
asked to wait. Several minutes later, Maria entered the oak-paneled room with
Lonfranco De Seta right behind her.
“Señorita, thank you for seeing me so promptly. I do hope that you found
your homecoming comforting. This business will only take a short time. I do,
however, insist that we have our discussion in private. There is no assistance
that Señor De Seta can provide for me.” Bucharo could not mask the look of