The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts (27 page)

Gloria and Dona Constanza became close friends, which was surprising in some ways and unsurprising in others. It was unsurprising because their backgrounds were similar, but it was surprising because whereas Gloria was intensely serious and intellectual and had the air of one who would never again know happiness, Dona Constanza was intensely frivolous, could not be bothered to talk about politics, and was deliriously happy all the time. Perhaps they became so close because they were both excellent warriors, because Gonzago and Tomas were brothers, and because they each saw in the other’s qualities something to be envied.

One day Constanza had returned in disarray and covered with the droppings of swifts from a particularly exhilarating and virtuoso performance with Gonzago on a ledge behind a waterfall, and was sitting with Gloria at the edge of the camp watching the long procession of leaf-cutter ants bearing their supplies home. They were like a band of little guerrilleros.

‘Do you ever think of your husband?’ asked Gloria suddenly.

‘Not really,’ replied Constanza. ‘That all seems a long time ago.’

‘It was only a few months,’ observed Gloria.

‘I know, but all the same. I wonder what he is doing. I expect he is making purple earthquakes with some mulatta girl.’

‘I expect he has bitten his fingernails back to the armpits with worrying about you,’ replied Gloria. There was a silence. ‘I often think of my husband. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fond of Tomaso, and I could not go back to all that, but I did love him, especially to begin with. One has so many romantic dreams.’

‘What was he like?’ asked Constanza.

‘Oh, tall, good-looking, very rich.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ remarked Constanza.

‘Well it was, but he never really knew me. He never even wanted to or tried to. I was just his pretty wife whom he kissed on the forehead when he got home.’

‘Hugh did not even do that,’ said Constanza. ‘He only talked about rugby and polo. He never fucked me into orange fragments like Gonzago.’

‘Then he is probably not making purple earthquakes with some mulatta girl, now, is he?’

‘Oh,’ laughed Constanza, ‘I think he was always doing that, and that is why he was not interested in me.’

‘I wonder whether your husband ever got the money together to leave under the bridge. Do you think he did?’

‘Oh, I expect so,’ said Constanza. ‘He always did the right thing, and always on time. He was like a German.’

‘Why don’t we go and get the money off him then? I expect he has still got it, if he is as punctilious as you say.’

‘I expect he has been waiting for us to get in touch,’ said Constanza.

‘All we have to do is give him a new ransom note. Then we swap you for the money.’

‘And then,’ continued Dona Constanza, ‘I run away again.’

‘It is a bit mean, though, isn’t it, to do something like that to someone? I mean it is completely unprincipled.’

‘We will give him the money back after the victory,’ said Constanza cynically. ‘Let us go and see what Remedios says.’

Remedios was very dubious indeed. ‘For one thing it appears that the Army are active in the area. I do not want to end up losing men and equipment for nothing. Secondly, how do I know that you, Constanza, have not dreamed this up as a means of escape and that afterwards you will not betray us?’

Constanza was very offended, and an indignant expression crossed her face. ‘That is ridiculous!’ she said. ‘For a start, even if I do not come back, you have still got half a million dollars in return. And I could not possibly bring soldiers and things back here because I do not know where we are!’

‘We could blindfold her on the way there,’ said Gloria, ‘if you really think it is necessary.’

‘I will agree to that,’ said Constanza, still angry with Remedios. ‘But I am coming back anyway, because of Gonzago and because I want to be here.’

Remedios sighed, still looking doubtful. ‘I will think about it,’ she said, ‘and I will tell you my final decision tomorrow.’

As Gloria and Constanza walked away from the hut Gloria said, ‘By the way, why have you never become pregnant by Gonzago? Isn’t it about time?’

‘Oh,’ replied Constanza, ‘I thought two children were enough. I got myself sterilised in New York.’

Gloria was surprised. ‘I thought you were a Catholic!’

‘Oh yes, but religion has nothing to do with the practicalities of life. Why have you not got pregnant by Tomas?’

Gloria smiled very sadly. ‘I too was sterilised, in Buenos Aires.’

In the morning Remedios changed her mind. She sent Federico to fetch the two women, and they proceeded to her hut in a mood of eager anticipation. ‘I wonder what she is going to say?’ said Constanza.

What Remedios said was that she had seen Aurelio, ‘that funny-looking cholo’, and that he had told her that when he had gone to Chiriguana to sell his maize the Army had just left. ‘But he did say,’ added Remedios, ‘that there are still Jungle
Rangers patrolling. He says they are a long way to the east and the local Indians are giving them a hard time, so we should be all right. We do not know exactly what the Mountain Rangers are doing, but that is not going to be your problem down on the savannah.’

‘Does that mean we can go?’ asked Gloria.

‘Yes, it means you can go. Aurelio is coming here tomorrow morning to guide you through the jungle so that you do not fall into his traps, and he will guide you back again. As to precisely when he does that, you will have to arrange with him yourselves. As for you, Constanza . . .’ Remedios looked hard into her eyes, ‘I have decided to trust you, but if you should double-cross us, I promise you you will be tracked down and shot. Do you understand?’

‘Of course,’ said Constanza. ‘But as I am not going to betray you, you will not have to shoot me.’

‘Good,’ said Remedios. ‘Gloria, you are in command of this expedition. I want you to take Federico because he comes from that village himself and knows his way around. I also think you should take two others with you.’

Remedios smiled to herself. She knew perfectly well that they would choose Gonzago and Tomas, and she understood that Constanza was much less likely to escape with Gonzago jealously waiting near Don Hugh’s hacienda. ‘And by the way, Constanza . . .’

‘Remedios?’

‘If your husband has any guns or ammunition or explosives in his hacienda, we would be very grateful for them.’

Aurelio was waiting for them at dawn and led them away without a word. He took them through the jungle unerringly even though at times it seemed that there was no path. There is no need here to describe the journey, but let it be said it was long, made insufferable by carnivorous insects, it was humid and sweaty, and also let it be said that Aurelio could see Parlanchina accompanying them all the way, just a couple of steps behind Federico. Her long hair was flowing about her hips, and she was chatting all the time as her ocelot trotted beside her.

Aurelio left the guerrilleros at the edge of the jungle, where it becomes savannah, and pointed out to Federico exactly how they were to get to the village, even though Federico already knew. They were to meet again at that spot in precisely one week. ‘If you are not here,’ said Aurelio, ‘I will wait two more days.’

After they had gone Aurelio spoke to Parlanchina: ‘Gwubba, is it well that you should love a man who is not a spirit?’

‘Papacito,’ she said, ‘I know things that you do not.’

All of them were surprised when they surveyed the village through Gloria’s binoculars, the very binoculars that had once been General Fuerte’s. All of the fields around it had been razed, and a rampart topped with barbed wire had been constructed at each end of the street.

‘Have the Army taken it?’ asked Constanza.

‘Let us go and find out,’ replied Gloria.

When they were closer Gloria handed the binoculars to Federico. ‘See if anyone looks familiar.’ Federico scanned the village with growing excitement.

‘I have seen my father!’ he cried. ‘He has a new gun! I have seen Misael and Josef, both with guns, and I see Dolores the whore smoking a puro on the rampart. Ay! They are all armed!’

‘I think that they have organised a defence against the Army,’ said Constanza. ‘They had double reason to.’

Cautiously the party approached the village. When they came out on to the razed field, Federico waved his rifle and shouted, ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! It is I, Federico! It is I!’

A figure detached itself from the small group of people that came to see what the shouting was about, and began to walk towards them. It stopped, as though to make sure what it was seeing, and then began to run. Federico ran forward too.

Father and son stood facing each other in the middle of the field. Neither spoke, but both smiled. Federico saw that his father looked the same, but smaller, and Sergio saw that his son had grown into a man. Then Sergio’s eyes fell onto the Lee Enfield. ‘My son,’ he said. ‘You stole my rifle. With it you killed an innocent man. I have been ashamed.’

Federico held the rifle before him in both hands. ‘Father, it has since killed some men who were not innocent. Here it is, I return it.’

Sergio took the rifle and weighed it fondly in his hands. ‘It is a fine gun.’ He unslung the M.16 carbine from his shoulder and presented it to Federico. ‘I think you will need a gun, Federico, so take this one. Pedro stole it from the soldiers. I do not need two rifles.’

Father and son embraced, both of them weeping, whilst the little band of guerrilleros stood waiting discreetly on one side.

Then they walked together into the village, creating a sensation that has been seen there neither before nor since. It was not the return of Federico that caused it; everyone had always known that, as sons do, he would one day return.

What caused the stir was the sight of their former mistress dressed in khaki combat fatigues, slim and sunburnt, with her hair loose and flowing down her back, with two grenades swinging from her belt, and a semi-automatic rifle slung across her back. They did not know what to say or think, but as each one recognised her their jaws dropped in amazement.

Dona Constanza put one hand on her hip and said, ‘What the blue fuck are you staring at?’ That caused further amazement, and to one old man who followed her, gaping and pointing, she said, ‘If you do not close your mouth, I am going to fill it with horse-shit and kick your black arse until it bleeds!’

She put her nose in the air, as in days of old, and followed Federico and the others to consult with Pedro, Hectoro, Josef, and Misael. They listened gravely to the history of the village since Federico had left it, and then informed the four men of their plans. It was agreed that the guerrilleros should enjoy the hospitality of the village.

‘It seems to me, also,’ said Pedro, ‘that as we are both fighting the same Army, there would be good reasons to fight together.’

‘When do you expect the soldiers back?’ asked Gloria.

‘We do not know. Perhaps we could send you a message when they come, and we will attack them before they attack us.’

Gloria had a thought. ‘Do you know Aurelio, the cholo?’

‘I know him,’ said Pedro. ‘He is a fine hunter. I give him tools, and he gives me medicines from the jungle.’

‘Do you know how to find him, without stepping into his traps?’

‘Of course,’ said Pedro. ‘He showed me so that our trade might continue.’

‘Excellent, then,’ replied Gloria. ‘You must tell him when the soldiers come, and he will tell us.’

The following morning Dona Constanza left her weapons in Sergio’s hut, and Gloria bound her hands together. The party trudged the two kilometres up the track to Don Hugh’s hacienda. Gloria surveyed the house with her binoculars and said, ‘We are very lucky. He is here.’ She sent Federico and Tomas around the house to reconnoitre, and when they returned, the party stepped out of the shadows and marched boldly down the drive. Gonzago whipped out a knife and held it at Constanza’s throat, for more theatrical effect.

When Don Hugh answered the frantic banging on the door his heart both leapt and sank simultaneously. He beheld three warriors, Gonzago, Tomas, and Gloria, armed to the teeth, and with them someone bound-up who looked exactly like his wife when she had been young. He looked again, and realised that it really was his wife. ‘Constanza?’ he said.

‘Hello Hugh,’ she answered, genuinely glad to see him, as though he were a cousin she had not seen for a long time.

‘Let us save time,’ said Gloria briskly. ‘We are the People’s Vanguard. As you see, your wife is alive and unharmed, and we are prepared to release her to you under the terms originally proposed. Half a million United States dollars. We also require you to hand over any weapons, ammunition, or explosives that you may have in the house.’

‘I have nothing of that sort,’ replied Don Hugh.

‘Do not lie,’ said Constanza sharply, and then realising her mistake, added, ‘they will search the house anyway. They told me.’

‘Search the house,’ said Gloria to the two brothers. They came out with two rifles, a Browning automatic, and several boxes of shells.

‘We very kindly left you the shotgun,’ said Gonzago, smiling his charming and sparkling smile, ‘so that you may continue to shoot pigeons.’

‘Half a million dollars!’ demanded Gloria.

Don Hugh sighed heavily, and with resignation re-entered the hacienda. He came out shortly with an old brown suitcase.

‘Take it,’ said Gloria, ‘to the middle paddock, and empty it. Then refill it and bring it back.’ Don Hugh did as he was told, and Gloria was satisfied that the case was not booby-trapped. Don Hugh came back and Gloria inspected the case minutely for tracking devices. She pushed Dona Constanza towards Don Hugh, and she and the two men retreated up the drive, with Tomas carrying the case.

‘Did they say where they were going?’ asked Don Hugh, getting out the keys of his jeep from his pocket.

‘They are going to Valledupar,’ lied Dona Constanza, according to plan.

‘I’ll give them an hour,’ said Don Hugh, decisively, ‘and then I am driving to Don Pedro’s. We’ll take the aeroplane to Valledupar, and when those scruffy bastards turn up, we will be waiting for them with half the army.’