by Gus Leodas
“What did you want to tell me, Pilar?” Rafael asked.
She didn’t hear him.
Marichal will soon discover the deadly ball. Pilar pleaded for inner strength.
Do it for Carlos! For Uncle Rafael, for Argentina, for Andres. They’re going to take him from you! You won’t be his mother anymore!
The words echoed and reverberated through her. Then she screamed to herself as loud as her inaudible voice will allow and its force came out as an angry whisper from clenched teeth.
“Go to hell you bastards!”
Her finger touched the second switch and pushed.
The explosion devastated.
Its force blew Pilar back into the room. The compact flew from her hand and settled under the bed. Andres and Uncle Rafael hurled to the ground.
Water cascaded in a huge cloud that drenched the earth flooding the terrace. The pool’s sidewalls cracked wide exposing metal rods. The water began emptying into the sand sub-ground, sucked as a vacuum. A part of the back wall at the deep end caved in.
The water diminished rapidly. When the water receded, mud, concrete, and tiles covered Marichal and Steinerman’s bodies. The force shattered windows and glass doors facing the pool.
Sorel screamed.
Roberto cried.
Pilar regained her balance and ran to the balcony frightened for Andres and her uncle. Uncle Rafael and Andres were getting up. Pilar’s panic eased when she saw them. Terrified servants came out to the terrace. Guards raced to reach the area.
Pilar could see Steinerman’s and Marichal’s crumpled bodies; contorted and crushed. Their blood mixed and stained the water as it strained through sand and cracks.
A pall settled over the area, stunned silence. Birds vanished. The sole sound was running water falling back into the pool, then screaming patrol car sirens sounded in the distance followed by two helicopters.
Pilar stood petrified, numb against the railing. Then she quivered. Her body rebelled slowly at first then with a murmur that threatened eruption.
She covered her mouth to muffle the gasp, ran to the bathroom, turned the water on, thrust her head in the sink, and vomited.
BOOK OF LAURA II
“The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.”
Lord Byron
1788 – 1824
Let’s leave Pilar to meet her again later and return to Laura and me.
Friday.
One day after the initial meeting at Shaba and Alise’s apartment.
On that morning, Laura caught an early shuttle from LaGuardia Airport to Washington, D. C. She thought of me. What was she going to do about me? She could marry me tomorrow, next week next year. Laura felt no hurry as long as there wasn’t a chance of losing me, patient to wait as long as I was willing to wait. She had a cause and me and wanted both without conflict.
Then she wondered about the Achilles Heart pioneers. Will members make a difference? How will they perform individually?
She decided to speculate their potential for success.
Pilar.
Quiet, conservative, protected all her life, gentle as a lamb, mild mannered, and a good candidate to tackle the poverty and food problems of Argentina. She has the connection. On a scale of one to ten, ten highest, she rates a five.
Shaba.
Hunger and poverty have a good chance with her. Congo needs someone like her, hundreds like her. She has a strong connection although a military one. Her husband could help. Shaba is a three, maybe. Her past has been secluded, confining, limiting, and backward. New York made dramatic changes, as did her tragedy. Who knows? She could be a five.
Kim.
She works as the top assistant to her ambassador and Tao is a doctor, a neurologist. Maybe the combination will yield something. Rating? Maybe a five.
Asmir.
She has the difficult challenge. How do you solve hunger and poverty in India? India is an impossible situation. A dent will make a major difference. She comes from a wealthy family in New Delhi. If she begins programs and incites interest from her wealthy and political friends, she might make more than a dent. Who knows where that will lead? Causes need a beginning and she’s a good beginning – rates a seven.
Jasmine.
If she uses the right connections, she should succeed. With her organizational ability, cunning, and beauty she could overcome poverty, hunger, and human rights abuses and any man; the morning line favorite for a ten.
Alise.
Tough to evaluate; intimate with her ambassador. If he takes her cause and runs with it, she could deliver. Love may deter her, one hell of a belly dancer, a six, no a four.
Laura.
How do you rate yourself, the group leader? A two, a six, an eight or a ten? It will have to be a two. Since this was your idea, achieve a better rating than a two. What have you got going? Nothing.
She evaluated needed efforts to make a beginning; people to talk to; strategies to make a difference; initial programs to reduce the number of hungry and starving Americans who at last count totaled over thirty million.
In this land of milk and honey, Americans were hungry or starving. Incredible! Nearly ten percent of the population! What the hell is wrong with Congress? Take care of your own, damn it! And she remembered President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s strong warning: ‘Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.’
Damn the warmongers!, double roiled her blood.
She read a book written by Nick Kotz entitled Let Them Eat Promises – The Politics of Hunger in America. She recalled an account when Senator Robert Kennedy visited Appalachia and was shocked at the deplorable conditions he saw. People were starving in this country. His concern and stature made headlines forcing starvation to rear its ugly head. That was in the l960’s. Thereafter, petty and insufficient efforts by Congress launched their weak thrusts towards eliminating hunger and starvation. A few ongoing programs existed. Laura deemed them inadequate, programs used as political weapons to quiet and pacify raised voices. How different it could all have been if Senator Kennedy wasn’t assassinated.
Why are these people in government?
In this land of abundance, why are people starving?
She would concentrate on that direction – to create a lobby strong enough to provide food for the hungry.
That was Laura’s outrage, where her beginnings would be. The problem extended…how without the full support of the government?
Maybe Americans should receive foreign aid money from Washington. How about half of the hundreds of billions we give to other countries? How about reducing the 560 U.S. military bases around the world? America needs help. We’re not the mother of the world!
The hell with them, America first! Let other rich countries take up the slack.
Laura paid to have the Achilles Heart designed and made. She made sure no one hesitated to join the group because of cost. New recruits would pay if affordable. Six hundred dollars was expensive. The initial seven insisted on paying their share.
Laura thought about the book on hunger and starvation again. It might be a good idea to supply the women with copies and other reading material related to food problems around the world. They all agreed to get involved with UNICEF. She would also look into World Hunger. Laura intended to contact other charitable organizations to learn their programs and plans.
UNICEF was also good for Laura. Involved, and her position at the United Nations, added credibility to her on the subject. After culling the information, she felt a direction should surface to undertake this massive project.
I needed to nip her causes in the bud, or Laura might never marry me until eighty-years old when she might need me to push her wheelchair.
By the time the plane landed, she found her direction. The flight served two purposes. One, it brought her problem into focus and
two it brought her closer to me.
The week turned out long for me. The hearings ran late each day and with the post hearing meetings to review, evaluate then prepare for the next day. I arrived home after ten o’clock, tired.
On Thursday night, I stayed up two extra hours getting the apartment in neat order to await Laura’s arrival the next day. I avoided her seeing me as a sloppy housekeeping bachelor. I left the apartment at six that morning in what I hoped would be the final day of the hearings looking forward to seeing Laura on the weekend.
Laura walked into the neat apartment unpacked, made coffee, undressed except panties and settled on the sofa with coffee to watch the hearings. On the last day, no new material, evidence, or data could be news shattering or generate new excitement.
Senator Cyrus Bender jabbed the Secretary of State with similar questions. The Secretary showed impatience and irritation, as did the senators and packed gallery. Laura watched the hearings. She had no chance all week to catch up on the hearing’s progress. She saw me when the camera panned the Committee table as I sat behind my senator, Senator Josephs. I sometimes appeared on close-ups in consultation with Josephs.
Laura perked when Senator Josephs asked the questions. I researched the questions. She leaned in closer to the screen to catch every word. After Josephs finished his questions, the Committee recessed for lunch and so did Laura.
The hearings resumed at two o’clock, same dull material. At three o’clock, Bender began another series of questions. Laura perked up again. During the day’s lull, she thought about Bender. If a threat, if this country’s warmonger, she should meet him and know more, to learn his connections; where he lives, dines, and goes, and whom he sees – his strengths, his weaknesses. Was there a woman somewhere? If normal, he had to have a woman, the Achilles heel of all men. What could Laura do if she did get close to him? She had no idea. Until launching her food programs, her goal added to learning all she could about Bender in Washington.
Bender had two legal assistants sitting behind him. One, a woman of about twenty-eight with glasses and short hair stood and left the room returning in a few minutes with a pitcher and a glass of water for Bender. Bender talked, drank the water, handed the empty glass to her gesturing for a refill. The aide filled the glass as Bender continued talking to the Secretary. Then the aide sat, focusing on the session and papers before her.
Laura watched the woman studying her whenever a medium shot of Bender included her. She appeared reserved and formal. Bender continued for his allotted time. Once again, the aide picked up the water pitcher and filled Bender’s glass.
Laura’s intensity on Bender increased. He grated her, to churn, and distaste for him increased, waning until her mind no longer registered what it saw or heard on television.
Other thoughts consumed her, placing her in a trance from an idea that startled. She ended the trance discovering her eyes had widened and mouth dropped. The television registered again. Her attention focused on Bender’s female aide. Laura urged the television director to show a close-up of the aide to bring her closer, to make her familiar.
Her mind drifted back to the idea. Then she scolded herself.
What is the matter with you? The whole thing is preposterous!
Laura was dressed when I opened the door. We hugged and kissed.
“Don’t move or say anything,” I said. “Let me hold you for about two weeks to absorb you like a sponge to wash away this past week.”
Just holding her for several seconds erased the week, soothing medicine.
We dined at home with ordered Chinese food and talked about our respective weeks. During coffee, relaxing in the living room, Laura probed about Bender.
“Do you know Senator Bender? To stop him and have a conversation?”
“We never talked. He knows who I am though. Professionally, I avoid him where I can.”
“How about Senator Josephs? Are they friendly?”
“They know each other.”
“Does he talk to Bender?”
“Josephs avoids him as much as possible outside senatorial matters. They serve on several committees together and are on the opposite political spectrum though belonging to the same political party. What’s the interest in Bender?”
“He irritated me watching him emasculate our foreign policy. I need to know more about him. Any chance I could meet him?”
I did a double take. “What for? What’s to gain? The world is also upset over hunger and poverty. Stop there.”
“Feminine curiosity.”
“Forget it. My calling for an appointment is futile. Josephs’s calls go through when necessary or when Bender needs him. He’s a loner dealing with power he can use. And believe me he uses power to maximum advantage.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“No.”
“Does he have any woman friends?”
“No idea.”
“Does he have any weaknesses?”
“How do I know? Are you planning an article? You sound like a reporter.”
“So you don’t know him at all? If you hate him, learn more about him.”
“Are you serious? What for?”
“The know thy enemy routine.”
“He’s not my enemy. I don’t want to know him.”
“A woman sat behind him during the hearings. Who is she? Does she work for Bender? Was she assisting or advising him.”
“Dirty blonde? Glasses? Pretty? Great figure?”
“The same.”
“That’s Judy Heller. If Bender is efficient, it’s because of her. She sticks it out with him. She’s an aide.”
Maybe she’s the female weak link thought Laura, his Achilles heel. If she hung in with him, maybe they date after hours.
“Do you know her?” Laura asked.
“We have lunch on occasion.”
“Oh!” Laura sat up.
“Relax. She’s a friend. You can meet her tomorrow night at the party. I’m certain she’ll attend.”
“She married?”
“No.”
“Living with someone?”
“No.”
“Did you ever try to hook up with her?”
“I did, before I met you. She looked easy and I tried.”
“Just like a man. If it moves, jump it. How’d you do?”
“I struck out. I pursued you.”
“Is she sleeping with Bender?”
“Bender doesn’t fool around with her. Let’s put it that way.”
“You mean he doesn’t get involved with staff? Too close to home?”
“No, he just doesn’t fool around with her.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“She attracted you. There must be something going on between them.”
“She has no romantic interest in Bender. Laura, put your imagination away. I know what I’m talking about. I have no idea why she continues to work with him. I know she tolerates his abuse. To satisfy you, I’ll ask her why tomorrow.”
“You men don’t understand women. I’m sure she’s in love with him and puts up with his nonsense to be near him.”
“The romantic in you speaks. Believe me this time. I know Judy Heller and Bender aren’t lovers.”
“Are you that positive?”
“Positive.”
“You know her that well?”
“That well.”
“She told you?”
“No.”
“Then you’re guessing.” She looked irritated. “How can you sit there being so positive?”
“Judy Heller is a happy, proud, and comfortable gay person…and my friend.”
Saturday turned into a grizzly day in the Washington area with an ominous overcast that bred laziness and for staying indoors to avoid an expected heavy downpour. For much of the day Laura acted lazy, but her mind worked on eight cylinders. Senator Cyrus Bender. Judy Heller. Why was Judy tolerant of Bender? It sounded like a developing cause, and when Laura chose a
cause, she’s like a smart missile homing in on a target.
If I was right about Bender, contrary to Laura’s feminine philosophy to my answers, then Judy Heller must have strong reasons for staying on with him. Judy’s sexual preference canceled romance between her and Bender. I was certain Laura would attempt to learn more about her at the social. Bender’s satellite revolved around his world, an advantage to Laura…for whatever her reasons.
We headed towards a private home in Georgetown.
“I still don’t understand why you have this interest in Judy.”
“I’m intrigued why she’d work for a man like Bender.”
“When I tried to make it with her, she came right out and told me. She enjoys men’s company. I think the world of her. Don’t cross her or get in her way though. Judy strikes back like a wounded tiger. The inconsistency about her working for Bender is strange and is mysterious.”
We entered the front door at eight-thirty and joined two-dozen guests. Judy Heller’s absence disappointed Laura. The pleasant and familiar gathering turned into a lively affair with conversation centered on Committee work, gossip about senators and other Washington events. Laura got on her ‘soapbox’ for a while to espouse the tragedy of hunger and poverty. Liquor flowed stimulating an increase in noise level – voices and music.
Judy arrived near ten o’clock.
Laura recognized her and stole glimpses of Judy weaving from group to group to extend greetings. Judy wore a gray slack outfit. She conveyed an outgoing and friendly personality. She approached me.
We hugged delighted to see each other again. She greeted the others with friendliness. Laura smiled. Their eyes interlocked for an instant.
“Judy, this is Laura. Laura, this is Judy Heller the nymphomaniac of the Senate halls, why I’m always tired,” I added generating laughter.
“Hi, Judy, I’m Adam’s reason for living.”
“Listen to that ego,” I responded.
“Hello to you, Laura. This chauvinistic male frog raves about you all the time, all he has on his mind. I’m delighted to meet you at last.”