Love, Anger, Madness_ A Haitian Trilogy - Marie Chauvet [135]
“Are you crazy?” the little man nearly screamed. “Wait until we’re in a safe place. Here’s my car. Come.”
As he opened the door, the Boxer, who had been waiting in the area, put his hand on his shoulder and said:
“I guarded that land day and night. I want my share.”
“Take your hand off my shoulder,” the Gorilla cried in fury as he shook free and reached for his weapon.
The Boxer took three quick steps back and with the skill of a cowboy, took out his gun and fired. The Gorilla collapsed.
My work here is done, Louis Normil told himself. And, taking advantage of the general panic, he made his way through the crowd and disappeared.
The most urgent thing was to put the money in a safe place. So he went home and this time hid it in the drawer of his night table, under a stack of books. Then he went back to the office, where he found M. Zura in a state.
“Have you heard the news, Normil?” the latter asked him. “Your friend was assassinated.”
“By whom?” Louis Normil exclaimed, feigning surprise.
M. Zura rolled his worried eyes and lowered his voice:
“By one of his henchmen, and they’re going to execute him to set an example.”
“Such an extreme measure won’t revive our poor friend,” Louis Normil added, looking devastated.
“What a horrible misfortune! Isn’t it?” M. Zura added. “And now, they’ll be on their guard. Look at all these trucks full of armed men. They know who did it, but they still have to deploy in all their gear just to give us a good scare.”
Louis Normil looked at M. Zura’s shaking hands, took his hat, excused himself and decided to go straight to the immigration office while he was still popular there.
“It’s Monsieur Normil,” said an employee respectfully when he saw him. “Why don’t you go ahead and take care of Monsieur Normil.”
“Let’s make sure Monsieur Normil doesn’t have to wait,” another cried.
“Long live the leader of the Blackshirts!” the first employee shouted.
“Long live the leader of the Blackshirts!” the others repeated in chorus.
“Long live the leader of the Blackshirts!” Louis Normil affirmed obligingly.
What do I care! he thought, as long as I’m able to save my children, the rest doesn’t matter!
We’ll remain, the rest of us, to pay whatever it is there is to pay, he also told himself as he got the passports. I’ll stop at nothing to save Rose and Paul. He went home and found his wife in their bedroom.
“Everything is ready” he announced. “The children will leave tomorrow.”
“My God! … How did you do that?”
He opened the drawer of the night table, lifted the books and took out the money.
“This money will never pay for what we’ve lost morally,” he whispered in a choked voice. “Never, even if they were to let us live, we’ll never be the same. Do you understand?”
She closed her eyes.
“And us?” she asked. “What will happen to us?”
“Us!”
He got up from the bed where they had been sitting side by side and went to the window. He looked at the black stains of the uniforms beyond the stakes and frowned.
“Us!” he began again.
And unwilling to lie to her, he said nothing. Did she understand the meaning of his silence? She stood behind him with a hand on his shoulder:
“Have you told Rose and Paul?” she asked, to tear him from the dreadful thoughts he dared not utter.
“No. Where’s Rose?”
“She hasn’t left her room.”
“Let her rest.”
At lunch, there were only four of them sitting at the table. Rose had locked herself up in her room. No one spoke of the Gorilla’s murder. There was an unusual commotion on their property, with a significant number of uniformed men pacing around, armed to the teeth. Most of the houses in the neighborhood were sealed and silent as graves. It seemed as if their terrified inhabitants had run for cover.
I will attend the Gorilla’s funeral tomorrow, the father told himself. I will play my part to the very end, until the children leave. After that, whatever happens, happens!
The sun was setting as he left the room. He ran into Rose at the door to the living room.
“Where are you going?” the father asked, obstructing