The color drained from Joel’s face. “If you leave here, I’m afraid I can’t protect you,” he hissed. “Just so you know.”
“We’re all riding this wave, kid, and no one knows where it’s taking us.”
He noticed that the song was ending and the girls were on their way back from the dance floor.
“Who was it?” Margarito insisted as they got closer.
“I can’t tell you that. I’ve got my own principles to uphold, and that includes respecting private enterprise. Give him his gun back at the door,” he said, turning to the jackals, “and don’t let him back in.”
Margarito’s godson turned back toward the chief and looked at him as if he were watching a suicide walk straight into the ocean.
“Take care of yourself, Padrino. You already dodged a bullet once. Don’t let them get you.”
“You take care,” Margarito said, returning the embrace. “I saw the Colonel a while ago and he let something slip. I shouldn’t be telling you this, since you’re not helping me, but he’s getting ready to come at you with everything he’s got.”
“Are you sure?”
The kid and his cronies leaned in.
“He’ll start in Colonia Morales: he’s going to throw everything in his arsenal at La Cuarenta, and then he’s coming for you.”
“Son of a fucking bitch.” His godson stood and started pacing the floor. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Are you sure?” asked the most lucid-looking of Joel’s companions.
“That’s what he said. Something about a ‘final showdown.’”
“I told you!”
“Cabrón, you’re fucked for real.”
“Let’s go to the bunker!”
The next song came on, accompanied by a cloud of smoke, and Margarito slipped away.
As he stepped through the door he saw two of the bouncers headed toward him, guns drawn. He shot the closest one in the gut and leveled off at the other’s head. The man dropped his piece and burst out laughing.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, kneeling. “Sorry.”
Margarito cocked his gun.
“Why’d you try it?”
“No, please.”
“Why did you try it?”
“He talked me into it,” the man pointed at the first bouncer. “For the reward.”
Margarito pressed the barrel of his gun into the man’s forehead.
“Who put up the reward?”
“I have no idea! He was the one who knew about it.”
But the gut-shot dude’s eyes had already rolled back in his head. Margarito nodded, pulled his arm in slightly, and slammed the butt of his gun into the bouncer’s forehead. He crumpled to the ground.
“What’s going on out here?” his godson asked as he stepped outside, flanked by three men.
Margarito slid his piece into his waistband and looked over at the guy who’d taken a shot to the gut.
“Free enterprise.”
He scanned the street for unusual activity and, seeing none, climbed into Panda’s car.
“General? Do you have a minute?”
“Of course, Mr. Joel. At your service. What can I do for you?”
“How’s the family?”
“My family? Good, fine.”
“Your daughters?”
“Macorina is still studying in Berlin. You know what she’s like. Aureliana’s at Harvard, getting straight A’s.”
“That’s wonderful, General. Congratulations. You’re an excellent role model.”
“What can I do for you?”
“What are your thoughts on our friend?”
“A terrible thing, what can I say. What a waste. He was so young and had just gotten his first big break.”
“No, man. I’m talking about Margarito. All the rage he’s carrying around. I just spoke with him, and he’s just not thinking straight. There’s something about the way he’s acting. I don’t know if I can trust him. What do you think?”
The general let the wind die down before he answered.
“I don’t know … He’s going through a difficult time.”
“Exactly. He’s going through a hard time, and it’s making me nervous. Do you think someone as desperate, exhausted, and as far out of his mind as my godfather might do damage to my organization?”
The general swallowed hard. “I do.”
“All right. Let’s do something about it, then. No way are we gonna close the shop because of some screwup. Am I right?”
“Understood, Mr. Joel. I’ll handle it.”
“I fucking love the way you military types talk, you know that? Zero bullshit. Let me know when it’s done.”
“I will.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Talk to you soon.”
The general had barely hung up before his phone rang again.
“What’s going on, you little bitch? Why haven’t you been picking up?” It was the Colonel. “Where’s Margarito?”
“I have no idea.”
“Don’t lie to me or I’ll come over there and cut your balls off. What do you know?”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
“You’re taking too long to lay him out. Don’t play dumb with me,” he said and hung up.
The general let out a stream of profanities and punched the glove compartment. His phone rang again. The last thing he wanted to do was take another call, but he recognized the number and picked up.
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you? How’s everything over there?” He looked at his watch. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be awake? … Oh, I see …” And, a moment later: “But don’t you spend a lot of time with her? Why don’t you come home by yourself this time to see me and your mother? … Okay, okay. Forget I said anything. I’ll transfer the money for the tickets soon. See you at Christmas. Bye, sweetheart.”
The general slipped the phone into the pocket of his pants and shot a glance at his driver.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing, General, sir.”
“Damn straight.”
Panda’s ride, still smelling of onion and chile, glided along a side street downtown. Bonfires had started all over La Eternidad: La Cuarenta, Los Viejos, and Los Nuevos were burning cars again. Some asshole had lit the fuse, and now they were going after each other with everything they had. Maybe now the good guys can move around this town freely, for a change.
12
Illuminated by powerful spotlights, the marble facade of the modern twenty-story building sparkled like a diamond in a display case. The structure was probably green certified, built for sustainability and engineered to take advantage of the area’s abundant solar energy. But everyone in La Eternidad knew it had gone up on protected land, right on top of a mangrove swamp whose rightful inhabitants had been driven out. They also knew that the financing for the project had come almost exclusively—always through roundabout and highly irregular channels—from the government, and that the apartments were going for several million dollars each. The stakeholders made a tidy profit, while—contrary to what had been promised—few to none of the proceeds were reinvested in the community or the creation of new jobs. What’s more, the bulldozing of the mangroves had affected several species on the brink of extinction, like the long-clawed spiny lizard; the black howler monkey, with its flowing mane and its habit of hurling avocados at anyone who invades its territory; the majestic white-tailed flamingo, which dances en pointe once a year to draw the attention of the female of the species; and the Frigga spider, which can jump up to five feet to deliver a bite. What made the whole thing even more scandalous was the fact that the developer, from one of the best families in the city, went around making a point of his respect for nature and wildlife. Yeah, right. Since the building went up, the only flamingos left in La Eternidad were the two metal sculptures standing in front of it.
Margarito chose a dark corner under the outstretched arms of an imposing walnut tree and parked the car. He took a dee
p breath before getting out: what mattered now was catching his quarry and squeezing him under the full weight of the law. He’d handle the girl afterward. It was hard to stay on top of both things, but not impossible, and he still had time left. It was only three, and the Colonel wouldn’t be looking for him until nine. He was sure if he got the ransom money by eight, he’d be able to make a deal for his life. But first, he thought, the law’s going to come crashing down on this bastard.
His sidearm was ready, and he was carrying handcuffs and a second magazine in his waistband, plus two grenades hidden up his pants leg. He took another deep breath. Justice will be served tonight.
He opened the car door and shut it behind him as quietly as possible. He hadn’t taken more than one step toward the building when he heard the familiar hum of a walkie-talkie a few feet up ahead. He hung close to the wall around a nearby home and studied the darkness. Before he could locate the source of the sound, a guy in a security guard’s uniform came out of nowhere. He drew on Margarito, who did his thing and shot first, emptying almost an entire magazine at him. The problem was that there were two more guards right behind the first one. Margarito ducked behind the flamingos to reload and figure out how to drop the newcomers when something slammed into the base of his skull. Before checking out, his brain managed to comment that someone must have been playing baseball nearby. He felt the ground slide out from under his feet, and a moment later the world was upside down.
They took him to a room as small and dark as a coffin. He felt two ocean currents pulling him into the depths. Fuck ’em, he thought. No one’s gonna drag me around. He kicked his imaginary legs with all his strength and was overcome by relief when his toes finally touched the ground. All he could make out was the surf crashing against the coast. But he understood what was really going on as soon as he opened his eyes.
What he’d thought was the surf crashing against the coast was actually a pair of bodyguards giving his rib cage a brutal working over, undeterred by the fact that he was lying semiconscious on the floor. He tried to get up to dodge the blows, but his attackers were always a step ahead, kicking his legs or stepping on his fingers before he could stand.
He told himself that if he could just grab one of the aggressors’ legs in midkick, he’d be able to knock him over. I could get him with a head fake. But when the opportunity to launch himself at them arose, he realized his body wasn’t responding the way it did before, or it responded with things he hadn’t asked for, crumpling into a heap when he’d wanted to stand or move gracefully aside. So he rolled over as best he could and focused on curling up in a ball when he sensed a kick coming.
Eventually he watched one of his attackers take a few steps back and, with a running start, aim a kick at his temple.
He was happy, way down there in the depths, until an icy liquid soaked his face and neck and there was light.
He was in the living room of a fancy apartment. One he already knew. The first face he recognized belonged to a beast in a leather jacket: Bracamontes, his second in command, who was standing next to the bar with his arms crossed. Next to him, seated on a black leather sofa, was another man; he gradually made out the features of the former congressman, senator, and founder of the environmentalist party, and current mayor of La Eternidad: Mr. Tomás Cárdenas Vidaurri. The one with the lovely locks and pouty lips. The politician observed him from where he sat.
“He’s coming to.”
“I didn’t tell you to kill him.”
“It’ll take more than that to kill him,” the Block assured him from behind Margarito. “Old dogs have thick skin.”
“Hello, Your Honor,” said Margarito. “I knew I could count on you.”
A man in black limped up behind the mayor. He wasn’t carrying an Uzi or riddling Suburbans with bullet holes, but Margarito recognized him right away.
“Nice limp you’ve got.”
The man in black picked up a baseball bat and hit Margarito in the bad arm. The chief writhed in pain.
“Enough, enough,” the mayor said, crossing his legs. “So, what’s up, Chief? Why are you trying to break into my home?”
Margarito glared at him.
“Have you already forgotten what you said to me yesterday? ‘I’ve got bullets here with your name on them.’”
The mayor scowled. Then he stood, walked over to the bar, and pulled out a bottle full of a honey-colored liquid.
“I met your son when I started on the campaign trail. I threw a dinner party to introduce him to my advisers, and he promised to restore order around here. I really thought he could do it. I’d heard his situation in Canada wasn’t ideal, so I told him I’d be happy to facilitate his transition back to the port. You know what he said? That he was going to help you. He knew that Los Nuevos were giving you trouble, that you’d distanced yourself from Los Viejos, and that La Cuarenta weren’t too fond of you, either. I eventually convinced him to arrest you: he thought you’d be safest behind bars, given how many people are after your hide. He was sure it would be the best thing for you, sending you to a maximum security prison. Of course, he asked me to find work for your drivers so they wouldn’t be fired so abruptly. I told him I would. The deal was only going to last a few minutes, after all.”
Margarito managed to sit up a bit. He searched for something to defend himself with, but came up empty.
“The city’s worse than it’s ever been, but it’s a passing phase. We’re just waiting for the right moment. We needed a martyr, someone who would give his life to bring peace to the port, someone to be the last innocent authority in the region. I picked Bracamontes to be your successor and thought your son would do nicely as the martyr. I’ve always believed change should be absolute: otherwise, it’s not change. Your son is dead, but you survived, and the situation demands another sacrifice. Someone has to pay for the crime, and it’s best if that person is you. Just do as Bracamontes and his colleagues tell you. Don’t try to fight it.”
The mayor held the bottle up to the light and opened it.
“Three years ago, I had a shot at the presidency. I was seen as a dedicated, educated young man who spoke English well. I showed the dinosaurs I could follow orders and keep their bank accounts fat. By the time of that ill-fated get-together in my building, my name was one of two being tossed around as likely candidates for the presidency. And it was the ruling party that was going to nominate me, not my own. Can you imagine? I was going to be the first president from this part of the country. But you put an end to all that when you insisted on investigating that girl who fell to her death during that party my friends organized for me. You didn’t think twice about calling the press, airing the details of the case, making me look like a conceited ass who orders European prostitutes from local thugs. I still regret trying to reason with you. ‘If you help me out,’ I said, ‘I’ll make it worth your while. Hide her,’ I said. ‘Send her back to her country, take her for a swim in the Gulf, toss her to the crocodiles.’ But you wouldn’t listen. I offered you money, power, but here we are: if I’m lucky, I’ll hold on to the mayorship of this town, because they’re never going to let me run for any real office again. I accepted the mayorship like a consolation prize, thinking that at least I could do a little business. I promised myself that if I was going down, you were going first. Yesterday was just a preview. Today I’ll make sure you die the way you lived and that you’re remembered as the scum who killed his own kid. Get him out of here, Bracamontes. Finish him off in the sierra. And see to it that someone cleans the floors. Look at this mess.”
As if Margarito were already gone, the mayor fumbled with the bottle until he got it open.
“This whiskey is thirty years old,” he said, serving himself a generous pour. “Same age as your son, no? Let’s see how it tastes.”
Margarito watched him breathe in its fragrance.
“Take him.”
As Bracamontes and the Block lifted the chief roughly to his feet, El Braca whispered into his ear: “Just wait till
we get out to the sierra.”
They were dragging him out of the building when he heard shouts: “Drop your weapons!” The Block and Bracamontes let go of their quarry and tried to draw their guns. Margarito saw them fly through the air as he fell to the ground. His hands were still over his ears when someone leaned over him.
“Goddammit, Margarito. You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
It was General Rovirosa.
“I recorded the whole thing. We’ve had an eye on him for months. Some very powerful people want to bury this guy alive. You were lucky my team saw you arrive, but you rushed our operation a bit. Care to join me? I’m going up to have a civilized chat with him. He’s got a choice: he can either walk himself to prison on his own two hooves, or take a swan dive off the building, like that girl. You coming?”
Margarito shook his head. “What time is it?”
“Six thirty.”
His letter of safe passage was about to expire. “Take me over to that car.”
“That heap? Are you sure? Now I really think you need a doctor. The city’s in chaos, they’re burning cars in every neighborhood. It’s all we can do to keep things from escalating. It’s not a good idea for you to be going around like that.”
“I have an important appointment to keep. Just get me my phone and keys.”
“You don’t want us to drop you off? Wait just a minute and I’ll take you myself.”
“No. I’m running late, and I have to go alone.”
“All right. Someone lend him a jacket. Here are your keys. Now where the hell, may I ask, are you going? There are armed men all over the city looking for you.”
“This is where we part ways, General. Don’t try to follow me.”
“All right. You know what you’re doing. But we’re even now. Got that? If you were smart, you’d get out of the city.”
“I’ve got some things to take care of first.” Margarito could barely speak. Just as he was about to get into the car, the general added: “I deserve a cut, don’t you think?”
The police officer turned to see Rovirosa put his glasses on, look at him, then put them back in his pocket.
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