Trash - Andy Mulligan [32]
‘What happened?’ I said.
‘He was stock-piling dollars in a vault in his home.’
‘But you … you couldn’t prove it?’
‘I had so much evidence. Unfortunately for me, I was naïve. My office was raided. The same night there was a terrible fire at my house. I was away, but both my maid and my driver were killed in it. And every scrap of evidence went up in smoke. Then, Olivia – this was the clever part. He had been planning my downfall, and charges were ready to be laid against me – for financial malpractice. It was suggested that I had defrauded the government of half a million dollars, and it was proved that I had organized the murder of a well-known banker. Miss Olivia … to learn about the crimes I had committed while … sleeping! At first I thought it was all so crazy, and all so obvious, that I need not be afraid. I had lawyers who were relaxed also, and sure of success. But the lawyers – I realized this way too late – had been bought, and they fed all my defence straight back to Mr Zapanta. It is enough to make you laugh, almost. The senator was smart. I was stupid. In this country you pay for being stupid, just as you pay for being poor. After a few months, just as the case was going well and I was certain to win it … I was arrested. Like I said, I was convicted.’ He paused. ‘I have been in jail ever since.’
Gardo stood up and pressed a cloth to the old man’s forehead. I saw the old man hold Gardo’s hand again.
‘Please, sir,’ said Gardo suddenly. ‘Who is Dante Jerome?’
The old man looked at Gardo, and then at me.
‘I think this boy has many questions,’ he said. ‘He has come to ask me questions, and I will answer them. Dante Jerome was my son.’
‘What is the harvest?’ said Gardo. ‘Also – sir – there are some words: It is accomplished. What does this mean?’
The old man said: ‘What is accomplished? What do you mean?’ He was speaking quietly.
‘It is accomplished,’ said Gardo. ‘Go to the house now, and your soul would sing.’
The old man worked his lips, and stared. ‘I need you to tell me what is accomplished,’ he said. ‘You have to explain yourself, I think.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Gardo. ‘I don’t know what it means. But I am told that if you could visit Senator Zapanta’s house right now, your soul would sing because it is accomplished.’
The old man opened his mouth, but he said nothing. He looked at me, and then at Gardo. His eyes had become luminous again, and he was leaning forward in his chair. He took hold of Gardo’s wrist and said – very softly: ‘Who are you, boy? Please stop playing games now. You know things that are very important.’
‘I am from Behala dumpsite.’
‘Yes. A street boy, I knew it.’
He held Gardo tight. ‘And that is one of the … darkest streets, I think. I worked for many years with street children, my son also. You will think I am being cruel, Olivia, but under these new clothes I can smell the street. It never, ever goes away. Why are you here, boy? Please tell me.’
Gardo said: ‘Because I have found a letter from Mr José Angelico, sir. We found it in a station locker. It is a letter that the police are looking for, and it is addressed to you, and it says that you must rejoice because it is accomplished.’
‘Give me the letter.’
‘I did not dare to bring it, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘For fear it would be taken, sir.’
‘José writes to me each year. Why would you have a letter he wrote to me?’
‘We think he wrote it just before the police took