17 Stone Angels (49 page)

When Athena returned to the United States she had been away two months. In comparison her own country seemed half asleep, anesthetized by consumer goods and narcotized by a steady stream of corporate news blended into a placenta of entertaining facts. No one had heard anything about the events in Argentina, and American newspapers displayed little interest in the complex foreign policies of RapidMail and AmiBank. A week later a small yellow slip arrived from her local post office: they were holding a piece of registered mail for a Doctor Athena Fowler.

She walked there with the slip in her pocket, cheered by the sight of the modest but orderly building, with its flag above the doorway and its plain black letters spelling out the branch and zip code. She'd grown up with this post office, remembered going there with her parents to pick up packages at Christmas. It was one of the institutions that worked reliably and without change, beyond politics or party lines. She stopped a few steps inside the entryway.

A large poster had been
hung above the counter, with the Stars and Stripes pulling into their embrace two logos: RAPIDMAIL AND THE US POSTAL SERVICE: PARTNERS FOR THE 21ST CENTURY! Next to the counter stood a neat metal RapidMail box, with its logo expropriating the colors of the American flag.

“They just started rolling it out three weeks ago,” the clerk told her. “RapidMail gets a drop-box in every post office in the country. They help us move the parcels so we can concentrate on the mail. They call that a strategic partnership.”

She looked at the cheerful, contented face. “Strategic for who?” she answered. “They'll take the profits and leave the taxpayers with the crap, and ten years from now they'll replace you with someone who earns twenty percent less. Because by their calculation, you make too much money.”

The clerk went sour and looked at the yellow registered mail slip that she gave him. “Brazil, eh?”

He disappeared and returned a minute later carrying a thick manila envelope with no return address. The bulk of it made her think of letter bombs, and she felt carefully around its edges with her fingers. As a consideration she opened it outside.

It was a different sort of letter bomb. The envelope was stuffed with photocopies of documents detailing financial transactions between Argentina and various off-shore banks. Carlo Pelegrini's name appeared all over them. On top was a letter from Paulé. Paulé—the Patron Saint of Desperation.

Estimada Doctor
, she wrote in her flawed Spanish,
even here in Rio one can buy the Argentine papers
. There were things she had not told her on the Night of the 17 Stone Angels. That Robert had given her these documents two days before his death, and one more thing, maybe useful to her. Robert had not been alone on the day he had spotted William Renssaelaer and Pablo Moya together. She too had seen them, could identify William Renssaelaer from his pictures in the newspaper. She was ready to make her
declaración
.

Athena put the papers back in the envelope and clutched it tightly to her side as she began to walk. A sudden surge of emotion seemed to lift her off her feet and carry her through the streets. She was thinking of her night out with Fortunato, and his story of the sculptures that were supposed to have looked down from the Palacio de Justicia and instead had ended up surveying the errands of pimps and fading tango singers.
Thus is life
, Fortunato would have said. Even in a world where seventeen stone angels are stranded beyond reach, one more can always be found.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I couldn't have written this book without the help of the following people:

Titi, Cristina, Marcos, Anabel, Karina and the
muchachos del barrio:

Chispa, Pepe, Gabriel, Enrique, Cuervo and Fabian.

Ricardo Rajendorfer and Luis Ernesto Vicat, who shared their knowledge of the Buenos Aires Provincial police.

Fellow writer Comisario Mayor Eugenio Zappietro of the Federal Police of Buenos Aires, who was generous with his time and explained so much without explaining.

The following people provided help and personal support along the way: Brad Cure, Jonathan Wolfson, Bruce Kimball, Jed Cohen, Dr. Ken Brown, Lt. Kevin Siska, Eliot Cohen, Bess Reed, Luisa Hairabedyan, Sheila Ferreira, Raul Schnabel, Mariana Ponce de León of Amnesty International, Hebe de Bonafini and Sergio Schocklander of the
Madres de la Plaza de Mayo
. A particular thanks to Dra. Maria del Carmen Verdu and Paola of the CORREPI.

I must acknowledge the inspiration and information provided by the courageous work of Argentine investigative journalists Miguel Bonasso,
Ricardo Rajendorfer and Carlos Dutil, Andres Openheimer and others. Foremost among them Rodolfo Walsh, author of
Operacion Massacre
, and Jose Luis Cabezas, whose murders are still awaiting solution.

Thanks to Joe Regal, loyal and tireless agent and friend, who encouraged me to keep running. Body of a rock!

And I thank especially my prized friends Martin Vilches and Claudio Vilarino,
que me bancaron cuando yo hacia mi ultima jugada
.

A
BOUT
THE
A
UTHOR

Stuart Archer Cohen has traveled
extensively through the Americas, from Tierra del Fuego to the Arctic, as well as China. His trading company, Invisible World, imports and retails wool, silk, alpaca and cashmere clothing from South America and Asia. Cohen's other novels include
Invisible World, The Army of the Republic
and
This Is How It Really Sounds
(April 2015). He lives in Juneau, Alaska, with his wife and two sons.

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