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By Root 1310 0

it and breaking it inside his ear. He did not scream, he did not move. Turned into an ashtray for the head of the caliés, Pedro Livio, that’s how you ended up. Bah, what the hell. The Goat was dead. Sleep. Die. From the deep pit into which he was falling, he could still hear Abbes García: “A plaster saint like him had to be plotting with the priests. It’s a conspiracy of the bishops allied with the gringos.” There were long silences interspersed with murmurs and, at times, the timid pleading of Dr. Damirón Ricart: if they didn’t operate, the patient would die. “But what I want is to die,” thought Pedro Livio.

People running, hurried footsteps, a door slamming. The room was crowded again, and among the recent arrivals was Colonel Figueroa Carrión:

“We found a denture on the highway, near His Excellency’s Bel Air. His dentist, Dr. Fernando Camino Certero, is examining it now. I woke him myself. In half an hour he’ll make his report. At first glance, he thought it was the Chief’s.”

His voice was mournful. As was the silence in which the others listened to him.

“You didn’t find anything else?” Abbes García bit off every word.

“An automatic pistol, forty-five caliber,” said Figueroa Carrión. “It will take a few hours to verify the registration. There’s an abandoned car, about two hundred meters from the attack. A Mercury.”

Pedro Livio told himself that Salvador had been right to get angry with Fifí Pastoriza for leaving his Mercury on the highway. They would identify the owner and soon the caliés would be putting out butts on Turk’s face.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Balaguer, no less.” Abbes García whistled. “Do you realize what that means? The head of the Armed Forces and the President of the Republic. He mentioned a civilian-military junta, with Balaguer at the head to reassure the OAS.”

Colonel Figueroa Carrión came out with another “Damn!”

“It’s a plan to throw us off the track. Involve important people, compromise everybody.”

“Maybe, we’ll see,” said Colonel Abbes García. “One thing’s sure. A lot of people are involved, high-level traitors. And the priests, of course. We have to get Bishop Reilly out of Santo Domingo Academy. Whether he’s willing to leave or not.”

“Will we take him to La Cuarenta?”

“They’ll look for him there as soon as they find out. San Isidro is better. But wait, this is touchy, we have to talk it over with the Chief’s brothers. If there’s one person who can’t be in on the conspiracy, it’s General Virgilio García Trujillo. Go and tell him personally.”

Pedro Livio heard the footsteps of Colonel Figueroa Carrión moving away. Had he been left alone with the head of the SIM? Was he going to put out more cigarettes on him? But that wasn’t what tormented him now. It was realizing that even though they had killed the Chief, things hadn’t turned out as planned. Why hadn’t Pupo and his soldiers taken power? What was Abbes García doing, ordering the caliés to arrest Bishop Reilly? Was this bloodthirsty degenerate still in command? He continued to hover over him; he couldn’t see him but there was that hot breath in his nose and mouth.

“A couple more names and I’ll let you rest,” he heard him say.

“He doesn’t hear or see you, Colonel,” Dr. Damirón Ricart pleaded. “He’s in a coma.”

“Then operate,” said Abbes García. “And listen carefully, I want him alive. It’s his life or yours.”

“You can’t take much from me,” Pedro Livio heard the doctor say with a sigh. “I have only one life, Colonel.”

16

“Manuel Alfonso?” Aunt Adelina lifts her hand to her ear, as if she had not heard, but Urania knows the old woman has excellent hearing and is dissembling while she recovers from the shock. Lucinda and Manolita stare at her too, their eyes very wide. Only Marianita does not seem to be affected.

“Yes, him, Manuel Alfonso,” Urania repeats. “A name worthy of a Spanish conquistador. Did you know him, Aunt Adelina?”

“I saw him once or twice.” The old woman nods, both intrigued and offended. “What does he have to do with the outrageous things you’ve said about Agustín?”

“He was the playboy who got women