Conversation in the Cathedral (40 page)

*

On Saturday the telephone rang twice in the morning, the mistress went over to answer and there was nobody on the line. They’re playing tricks on me, the mistress said, but in the afternoon it rang again, Amalia hello, hello? and she finally recognized Ambrosio’s frightened voice. So you’re the one who’s been calling, she said to him laughing, nobody’s here, go ahead and talk. He couldn’t go out with her that Sunday or the following one either, he had to take Don Fermín to Ancón. It doesn’t make any difference, Amalia said, some other day. But it did make a difference, Saturday night she couldn’t get to sleep thinking. Could the business about Ancón be true? On Sunday she went out with María and Anduvia. They went walking in the Parque de la Reserva, bought some ice cream and sat on the grass chatting until some soldiers came over and they had to leave. Mightn’t it have been because he had a date with someone else? They went to the movies at the Azul; they were in a good mood and, feeling safe, there being three of them, they let two fellows pay their admission. Mightn’t it be that at that moment he was in some other movie theater with? But halfway through the picture they tried to take advantage and the girls ran out of the Azul with the guys behind
shouting
give us our money back, you swindlers! luckily they found a cop who chased them off. Mightn’t it be that he’d gotten tired of what she was always reminding him about, how badly he’d behaved? All week Amalia, María and Anduvia talked about the men, and one by one they got scared, they’re going to come, they’ve found out where we live, they’re going to kill you, they’re going to, with attacks of laughter until Amalia began to shake and ran home. But at night she would still think the same thing: mightn’t it be that he wouldn’t come to see her anymore? The next Sunday she went to visit Señora Rosario in Mirones. Celeste had run off with a guy and after three days had come back alone, with a long face. He whipped her until he drew blood, Señora Rosario said, and if the guy knocked her up I’ll kill her. Amalia stayed until it was dark, feeling more depressed than ever in the alley. She noticed the puddles of putrid water, the clouds of flies, the skinny dogs, and she was surprised to think that she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life in the alley when her little son and Trinidad had died. That night she woke up before dawn: what do you care if he doesn’t come anymore, stupid, so much the better for you. But she was crying.

*

“In that case I’ll be obliged to go to the President, Don Cayo.” Dr. Arbeláez put his glasses on, silver links gleaming on the stiff cuffs of his shirt. “I’ve tried to maintain good relations with you, I’ve never asked for an accounting from you, I’ve let the Department of Security bypass me completely in a thousand different things. But you mustn’t forget that I’m the Minister and you’re under my orders.”

He nodded, his eyes riveted to his shoes. He coughed, his handkerchief against his mouth. He raised his face, as if resigning himself to something that saddened him.

“You’d be wasting your time bothering the President,” he said almost timidly. “I took the liberty of explaining the matter to him. Naturally I wouldn’t have dared deny your request without the backing of the President.”

He saw him clench his fists, remain absolutely motionless, looking at him with a detailed and devastating hatred.

“So you’ve already spoken to the President.” His jaw was trembling, his lips, his voice. “You no doubt presented things from your point of view. Naturally.”

“I’m going to speak frankly to you, doctor,” he said, with no ill humor, no interest. “I am Director of Security for two reasons. First, because the General asked me. Second, because he accepted my conditions: to have at my disposal all the moneys necessary and not to have to report on my work to anyone except him personally. You have to excuse me for putting it so bluntly, but that’s how things stand.”

He looked at Arbeláez, waiting. His head was too big for his body, his myopic little eyes raked him over slowly, millimetrically. He saw him smile, making an effort that disfigured his mouth.

“I have no doubts about your work, I know that it’s been outstanding, Don Cayo.” He was speaking in an artificial and panting way, his mouth was smiling, his eyes scorching him without cease. “But there are
problems
to be resolved and you have to help me. The security budget is exorbitant.”

“Because our expenses are exorbitant,” he said. “Let me show you, doctor.”

“Nor do I doubt that you make use of your allotment with the greatest responsibility,” Dr. Arbeláez said. “It’s simply …”

“The cost of having loyal leaders in the unions, the network of
information
in working-class centers, universities and the administration.” He recited that as he took a folder from his briefcase and put it on the desk. “The cost of rallies, the cost of finding out about the activities of the enemies of the government here and abroad.”

Dr. Arbeláez had not looked at the folder; he was listening to him, fondling a cuff link, his little eyes still slowly hating him.

“The cost of placating malcontents, jealous people, the ambitious people who rise up every day within the government itself,” he recited. “Tranquillity isn’t just a matter of billy clubs, doctor, it has to do with money too. You’re frowning and you have every right to. I take care of all these dirty things, you don’t even have to know about them. Take a look at the papers there and tell me later if you think you can economize without jeopardizing security.”

*

“But do you know why Don Cayo puts up with Mr. Lozano and his smart tricks with the shack-up joints and whorehouses, sir?” Ambrosio asked.

No sooner said than done, Mr. Lozano had lost his good humor: everybody in this country tries to be a sharpy, it was the third time Pereda’d come up with that story of a check. Ludovico and Hipólito, silent, looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes: God damn it, as if he’d been born yesterday. It wasn’t enough for them to get rich by exploiting people’s hot drives, they were trying to exploit him too. They weren’t going to get away with it, the law would be enforced with them and then see where the shack-up joints would end up. They were already at the Claveles development, they had arrived.

“Get out, Ludovico,” Mr. Lozano said. “Bring Gimpy out here to me.”

“Because thanks to his contacts with the shack-up joints and
whorehouses
, Mr. Lozano knows all about people’s lives and miracles,”
Ambrosio
said. “That’s what that pair said at least.”

Ludovico was running toward the wall. There wasn’t any line: the cars kept going around the block until one came out, then they would park in front of the gate, a signal with the lights, they’d open up for them and they would drive in. Everything was dark inside; the shadows of cars going into the garages, rays of light under the doors, the shapes of waiters bringing beer.

“Hello, Ludovico,” Gimpy Melequías said. “How about a beer?”

“No time, brother,” Ludovico said. “The man’s waiting out there.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what they found out, sir,” Ambrosio said. “What woman was cheating on her husband and who with, what
husband
on his wife and who with. I imagine it was something like that.”

Melequías limped to the wall and took down his jacket, grabbed Ludovico by the arm: be my cane so I can move faster, brother. All the way to the Pan-American Highway he didn’t stop talking, the way he always did, and always about the same thing: his fifteen years on the force. And not just as a simple auxiliary, Ludovico, on the list, and about the hoodlums who’d fucked up his leg with their knives that time.

“And that information was very useful to Don Cayo, don’t you think, sir?” Ambrosio said. “Knowing intimate things like that about people, he had them right in the palm of his hand, don’t you think?”

“You ought to thank those hoodlums, Melequías,” Ludovico said. “Thanks to them you’ve got this soft little job right here where you must be lining your pockets.”

“Don’t you believe it, Ludovico.” They watched the cars humming by on the Pan-American Highway, no sign of the Ford. “I miss the force. A sacrifice, yes, but that was living. You know, brother, you’ve got a home here whenever you want. Free room, free service, even free drinks for you, Ludovico. Look, there comes the car.”

“That pair thought that Mr. Lozano worked his blackmail with the information he got from the shack-up joints,” Ambrosio said. “That he got his cuts too so that people could avoid a scandal. A good man for that kind of business, right, sir?”

“I hope you haven’t come to me with any sad tales, Gimpy,” Mr. Lozano said. “Because I’m in a bad mood.”

“What an idea,” Gimpy Melequías said. “Here’s your envelope with best regards from the boss, Mr. Lozano.”

“What do you know, that’s more like it.” And Ludovico and Hipólito as if saying he’s got him completely tamed. “What about that other matter, Gimpy, did the subject show up here?”

“He showed up on Wednesday,” Gimpy said. “In the same car as last time, Mr. Lozano.”

“Fine, Gimpy,” Mr. Lozano said. “Well done, Gimpy.”

“Do I think it was bad?” Ambrosio asked. “Well, sir, on the one hand of course it was, right? But police affairs, political affairs are never very clean. Working with Don Cayo you get to find that out, sir.”

“But there was an accident, Mr. Lozano.” Ludovico and Hipólito: he’s caught him again. “No, I didn’t forget how to work the machine, the guy you sent did a perfect job of setting it up. I turned it on
myself
.”

“Where are the tapes, then?” Mr. Lozano asked. “Where are the pictures?”

“The dogs ate them, sir.” Hipólito and Ludovico didn’t look at each other, they twisted their mouths, hunched over. “They ate half of the tape, they tore up the pictures. The package was on top of the
refrigerator
, Mr. Lozano, and the animals …”

“Enough, Gimpy, enough,” Mr. Lozano grunted. “You’re not an imbecile, you’re something else, words can’t describe what you are, Gimpy. The dogs? The dogs ate them up?”

“Great big dogs, sir,” Gimpy Melequías said. “The boss got them, hungry dogs, they eat anything they come across, they’d even eat a person if he didn’t watch out. But the subject is sure to come back and …”

“Go see a doctor,” Mr. Lozano said. “There must be some kind of treatment, injections, something, there must be some cure for such
stupidity
. Dogs, Jesus Christ, the dogs ate them. So long, Gimpy. Get going, don’t blame yourself and beat it now. To the Meiggs Extension, Ludovico.”

“And besides, it wasn’t just Mr. Lozano who took advantage,”
Ambrosio
said. “Didn’t Don Cayo too, in a different way? That pair said that on the force everybody on the list took bribes in some way, from the highest down to the lowest. That’s why Ludovico’s great dream was to become a regular. You mustn’t think that everybody’s as honest and decent as you are, sir.”

“You get out this time, Hipólito,” Mr. Lozano said. “Let them start getting to know you, since they won’t be seeing Ludovico’s face for quite a while.”

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Lozano?” Ludovico asked.

“Don’t play dumb, you know damned well why,” Mr. Lozano said. “Because you’re going to go to work for Mr. Bermúdez, just the way you wanted to, right?”

*

In the middle of the next week, Amalia was cleaning the mantel when the bell rang. She went to open the door and Don Fermín’s face. Her knees shook, she was barely able to stammer good morning.

“Is Don Cayo in?” He didn’t answer her greeting, he came into the living room almost without looking at her. “Please tell him that Zavala is here.”

He didn’t recognize you, she guessed, half frightened, half resentful, and at that moment the mistress appeared on the stairs: come in, Fermín, sit down, Cayo was on his way, he’d just called, could she give him a drink? Amalia closed the door, slipped into the pantry and spied. Don Fermín was looking at his watch, his eyes were impatient and his face worried, the mistress served him a glass of whiskey. What had happened to Cayo, he was always so punctual I don’t think you like my company, you’re so restless, the mistress said, I’m going to get angry. They treated each other with such familiarity, Amalia was startled. She went out the service entrance, crossed the garden, and Ambrosio had gone off a little way from the house. He greeted her with a terrified face: did he see you, did he talk to you?

“He didn’t even recognize me,” Amalia said. “Have I changed that much?”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Ambrosio took a deep breath as if life was coming back to him; he was shaking his head, still upset, and looking at the house.

“Always secrets, always afraid,” Amalia said. “I may have changed, but you’re still the same.”

But she said it with a smile so that he could see she wasn’t mad at him, that she was teasing, and she thought how happy you are to see him, stupid. Now Ambrosio was laughing too and with his hands he made her understand what we were saved from, Amalia. He got a little closer to her and all of a sudden he took her hand: could they go out that Sunday, could they meet at the streetcar stop at two o’clock? All right, then, Sunday.

“So Don Fermín and Don Cayo have got to be friends again,” Amalia said. “So Don Fermín will be coming around now. One of these days he’s going to recognize me.”

“Just the opposite, they’re real enemies now,” Ambrosio said. “Don Cayo is ruining Don Fermín’s business because he’s the friend of some general who tried to start a revolution.”

He was telling her that when they saw Don Cayo’s black car turning the corner, there he is, run, and Amalia went into the house. Carlota was waiting for her in the kitchen, her big eyes crazy with curiosity: did she know that man’s chauffeur, what were they talking about, what did he say to you, he was a good-looking fellow, wasn’t he? She was telling her some lies and then the mistress called her: take this tray up to the study, Amalia. She went up with the glasses and ashtrays that were dancing about, trembling, thinking that fool Ambrosio has infected me with his fear, what’ll I say if he recognizes me. But he didn’t recognize her: Don Fermín’s eyes looked at her for a second without seeing her and turned away. He was sitting and tapping his foot, impatient. She put the tray on the desk and left. They were closeted for half an hour. They were arguing, you could hear their voices in the kitchen, loud, and the mistress came and closed the pantry door so they couldn’t hear. When from the kitchen she saw Don Fermín’s car leaving, she went up to get the tray. The mistress and the master were talking in the living room. Such shouting, the mistress was saying, and the master: the rat was trying to get away when he thought the ship was sinking, now he’s paying for it and he doesn’t like it. What right did he have to call Don Fermín a rat? he was more respectable and a nicer person than he was, Amalia thought. He must have been jealous of him, and Carlota tell me, who was it, what were they talking about?