The Blue Line

by Ingrid Betancourt

  —

  The phone rang. Julia hurried across the living room to answer. She wasn’t expecting Ulysses to call her this soon, but she’d been hoping he would.

  “Mom, thank goodness you picked up! I’ve got something urgent to ask you.”

  Julia smiled. “Yes!”

  “Mom? Are you there?”

  “Of course I’m here, my angel. Now, I want to know how you’re doing. How’s it going with your cousins? Have you met the twins’ kids yet?”

  “Yes. I’m very happy. I love this country. But I’m calling about Theo.”

  Julia sat down.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m listening, angel.”

  “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry. But I had a visit from a young woman called Celeste Fierro. She works for a forensic anthropology team.”

  “A what?”

  “Mom, forensic anthropology. There’s a group of young researchers. They’re a mixed bag—archaeologists, anthropologists, doctors, biologists, computer scientists. Well, anyway, they’ve started up a DNA collection program.”

  “What? What does that mean?”

  “They investigate the bodies they find in mass graves. They use the DNA from the remains of the bodies they exhume to identify them and find their relatives. I don’t know how they heard I was in Buenos Aires, but the young woman came to see me to ask me for a blood sample. They’ve already exhumed more than a thousand corpses from mass graves. More than half of them are still awaiting identification.”

  “I see. Yes, of course, you must do it.”

  “I’m going to, obviously, but Celeste, the young woman, asked if you’re coming to Argentina. They want to see you too.”

  “But my DNA won’t be of any use to them.”

  “They don’t need your DNA, Mom. They need concrete information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “They only have bones to work from. So they try to find out things like the person’s height, their medical record, whether they were ever in an accident or had an illness or an operation, that sort of thing.”

  Julia was silent.

  “They also need to know about the torture, and Castelar. . . .”

  “Is this the government’s new pet project?”

  “No, Mom. It’s a private organization.”

  33.

  THE FORENSIC ANTHROPOLOGY TEAM

  Austral Summer

  2001

  Almost a year to the day since Ulysses’ first visit there, Julia found herself looking for the offices of the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team. The meeting had been scheduled for 11:00 A.M. It was a hot day, and Julia was wearing her emerald green printed cotton dress and a round straw hat with an upturned brim, which gave her a retro look. The taxi dropped her off on a noisy shopping street in front of a dilapidated building covered with graffiti. It wasn’t the modern tower block she’d been expecting; perhaps she’d imagined it would resemble the institute where she worked in Paris.

  She was too early. She was tempted to get a coffee and do a bit of exploring. A swarm of stalls offering photocopying, printing, and binding services, stores selling electronics, and an invasive billboard gave the area the feel of a bazaar. Pedestrians and cars moved around amid the noise and the pollution. Julia pushed open the heavy wooden door and entered the building. Inside, the air was cool and the noise from the street was muffled. Light filtered into the lobby through etched glass panels. Facing her was an old-fashioned cage elevator with a folding metal door, which didn’t look entirely reassuring. She was overcome by the desire to leave without going any farther.

  The office was located on the second floor. It could also be reached by a steep, narrow staircase that was as run-down as the building’s facade. The floor was partitioned off into a series of small offices, with the exception of two spacious rooms that had skeletons laid out on display tables. Farther along there was an archive room with stacks of numbered, color-coded boxes containing human remains that were in the course of being identified. The walls, marked and grubby through wear and tear, contrasted with the newly painted mauve doors. The grayish computer terminals visible through some of the office doors that had been left ajar suggested a careful allocation of resources. It took only a glance for Julia to locate Celeste Fierro’s office.

  According to her watch, it was exactly 11:00 A.M. She decided to wait for a few more seconds. Then she knocked on the door, struggling to keep her composure, which made her realize how nervous she was. She was immediately called in and greeted by a young woman with a pleasant smile who was wearing gray pants and a sky-blue lab coat.

  She quickly realized she was dealing with a skilled professional whose youth belied her in-depth knowledge of the case. Celeste Fierro was in charge of the desaparecidos of Castelar. She knew all the details inside and out: the identity of every prisoner held in the police station, the cells they had occupied, and the duration of their detention. She could describe the layout of the place as if she’d been there herself and recite the names of the prisoners and the guards from memory.

  When Julia sat down opposite Celeste, she felt as if her past were looking her in the eyes. Speaking in a calm voice, Celeste told her about each of her fellow prisoners. She had taken out a bulky file containing thousands of names and photographs, including faces Julia recognized. A digital matrix of names, places, and dates completed her database.

  By comparing the accounts she gathered, Celeste Fierro had developed an information-verification system. She could accurately establish the names of the dead and of the survivors and thus, by a process of elimination, the names of the desaparecidos. This list served as a starting point for the fieldwork carried out by the anthropologists in mass graves and cemeteries.

  Interviews with survivors were therefore just as important as the scientific work. They enabled the anthropologists to cross-check information and to broaden their range of conclusions. Celeste told Julia that it was through her sister Anna’s evidence that Theo had been identified as the prisoner in cell number 4, whom none of the Castelar survivors could recall ever seeing. Julia was informed that Paola had died and that Rosa had committed suicide. She also learned of the death of Oswaldo, the young man in the cell across from hers, whom she used to talk to when Sosa was on guard duty.

  “Do you remember a girl named Maria? She was detained in Castelar at the same time as you.”

  Julia struggled to concentrate on the young woman’s question.

  “Maria? No, there wasn’t any Maria; I’m sure of it,” she answered. “But I remember a young man called Augusto. I ran into him again in Villa Devoto before I was deported.”

  “Yes, in fact, I’m meeting with him next week,” Celeste said, peering at her file.

  “That’s such good news! I’m glad he finally got out. I’d like to see him.”

  “Good, I can arrange that. It’ll be very important. But this girl Maria,” Celeste insisted, “she must have been with you. She was very young at the time; she must have been barely fourteen, curly auburn hair . . .”

  Julia felt a chill run through her. She hesitated, instinctively afraid of flipping a coin that would decide her fate.

  “There was a young girl and yes, she was fourteen, but she was blond,” Julia began, turning very pale, her mouth suddenly dry.

  Celeste faded into the background, pushing her chair into a gloomy corner of the room.

  “I became very close to her. Her name was Adriana. I’d like to know . . . I believe my sister saw her once. Have you found her?”

  The young woman studied Julia, gauging her ability to take in the information she was about to give her.

  “No,” she replied slowly. “We haven’t found the remains of an Adriana. But a few years ago, Maria came to give evidence. She didn’t seem to remember anyone. That can happen sometimes, after traumatic experiences such as
yours. But she did tell us the date she was arrested, and so we were able to find out which group she was imprisoned with. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to tie in her evidence, because we have no Maria in our files. I’ll have to ask Augusto if he remembers Maria. You seem to be the only two female survivors. It would be useful if you got in touch with her too. I have her contact details; she works for a human rights organization.”

  Julia stared for a long time at the telephone number Celeste jotted down on a sheet of paper.

  34.

  THE CHOICES

  Austral Winters

  (1976, 1987, 1997)

  As soon as he heard the name Josefina d’Annunzio, Captain Torricelli allowed Adriana on board with no further questions. He took her up onto the deserted bridge of the transatlantic liner, where the flags flapped overhead in the cold wind. Adriana watched as, down below, the boatswain shouted orders and the passengers standing on the quayside boarded the ship slowly, as per the precise instructions of white-uniformed officers. There were separate lines for each class of travel. The port was teeming with people and the sight of it, with the city in the background, made Adriana anxious.

  “Are you sure she isn’t here yet? She hasn’t tried to contact you?”

  “I’m certain. My crew keeps me informed of every single detail.”

  “What shall we do?”

  “We’re sailing in three hours. It’s up to you to decide. Once your friend is on board, there’ll be no going back.”

  The long wail of a ship’s horn tore the silence.

  The man held out his hand. Adriana jumped as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said nervously, taking the envelope Father Miguel had given her out of her pocket.

  The captain tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. He studied Adriana for a moment, then took her by the arm to show her the way down.

  “I’ll ask one of the crew to go with you to get your friend. I trust him completely; you’ve got nothing to fear.”

  He added: “If your friend is as weak as you say he is, we’ll have to pass him off as a crew member who’s had a bit too much to drink.”

  Adriana adjusted her head scarf and set off, shoulders hunched. The captain placed his hand on the top of the frame of the watertight door and ushered the young girl out, pointing to a metal staircase at the end of the bridge. She walked in the direction he’d indicated. The stairs were steep. A uniformed sailor stood by the guardrail, ready to hold out his hand to her. The captain waved him over and whispered a few words into his ear. Then he turned to the young girl. “Follow him,” he instructed. “Don’t waste any time. You have to be back here within three hours.”

  The sailor attempted to help Adriana down the steps. She pulled away nervously. The man looked surprised.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured, ill at ease.

  She hurried down the ship’s three decks, almost fell against a capstan, but chose to cling to the rail rather than accept the muscled arm offered to her.

  —

  When they reached the dock, it was all Adriana could do not to run away. Anxiety was making her clumsy. She felt as though she was being watched, which made her act even more awkwardly. Two men in black leather jackets brushed past them. The sailor took Adriana by the arm and growled at her in a loud voice.

  “At least that way people will think you’re mad at me,” he said, eyeing her coldly. “You have to calm down.”

  Adriana wrested her arm away furiously and walked on at a brisk pace. When they reached San Ignacio church she turned to the sailor.

  “Thank you,” she told him, still on the alert.

  The man smiled at her.

  “I’m going to get my friend.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No. I prefer to go by myself..”

  “Give him this uniform. He’ll need it,” the man said, handing her the small bundle he’d been carrying under his arm.

  He watched her go and lit a cigarette, leaning against one of the columns in front of the church.

  Adriana found Theo sitting where the sacristan had left him, on the balcony behind the organ. He’d been given something to eat and had washed his face. We’ll have to say he’s been in a fight, Adriana thought as she looked at him. Theo greeted her with a grimace, still racked with pain.

  “Julia’s disappeared,” Adriana whispered, once she was within earshot. “The captain has given us three hours to get on the ship. He’s sent one of the sailors to help you board.”

  “Let’s go,” Theo replied unhesitatingly.

  “Theo, you don’t understand,” she said. “Julia isn’t at the meeting place.”

  “I heard you. But we have no choice. She’s still got three hours to show up, and we can’t go looking for her.”

  “Listen, Theo, I’ve been thinking.” Adriana moved a little closer to him. “We can’t leave without her.”

  “If we stay, they’ll kill us. And Julia’s sacrifice will have been pointless.”

  “So she has to die so you and I can escape?”

  “We can’t save her. She knows that we have very little chance of success. If she was in our shoes, she would leave.”

  Visibly pained, Adriana knelt down beside him. “Theo, Julia saved your life. She went to get you in your cell. If it hadn’t been for her, we’d have had no chance of getting away. Father Miguel, the money, the ship: it’s all thanks to her.”

  Exhausted, she slid to the floor and hid her face in her hands. After a moment she looked up again and added: “If she’s not on the ship, we have to stay behind.”

  “Let’s go to the ship. I’m sure she’s already there. Let’s not waste any more time,” Theo decided.

  Adriana held out the sailor’s uniform.

  “Here, put this on. I’ll go and find the sailor.”

  —

  They boarded the Donizetti in time. Captain Torricelli’s plan had worked. Theo had walked the whole way leaning heavily on the sailor, who stopped at every street corner to make sure no one was following them and to catch his breath.

  They boarded the ship through an open cargo door. A group of sailors dressed in the same uniform as Theo were busy loading the last of the supplies. Their escort led them through a maze of stairways and corridors to the far end of a section near the engine room. He opened a heavy watertight door that led into a small windowless cabin with a triple bunk bed.

  “I’m going to lock you in until we sail. Captain’s orders. We don’t want any nasty surprises.”

  “But I need to know if Julia’s on board,” Adriana said in an anguished voice.

  The sailor looked straight at her. “I’m sorry. If your friend was on board, she would already be here.”

  “Give me ten minutes, please,” Adriana pleaded. “If she doesn’t come, we’ll have to stay behind.”

  Theo sat down on the bottom bunk. “That doesn’t make any sense. Even if Julia isn’t here, we need to leave.”

  “I can’t leave without her.”

  The sailor announced he was going to inform the captain.

  “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I don’t know if he’ll give you permission to get off.”

  He locked the door and went away.

  Adriana shook her head slowly.

  “How can you even think of leaving without Julia? She would have given her life for you.”

  “I would have given my life for her too,” Theo murmured. “If she’s been captured, nothing will save her. They’ll kill her, they’ll kill me too, and they will have won.”

  “You can’t admit defeat. Not now!”

  “Look at me! I’m a wreck, a piece of human garbage. I can’t even walk. You want me to go and play the hero in this state?”

  There was a heavy silence. Then Adriana ventured to
continue: “You’re not the only one who’s suffered. We’re all recovering. We can look for her together, help her.”

  “I don’t want to stay. I can’t avenge the deaths of those who have died if I’m dead too.”

  “Theo . . . Julia’s carrying your child.”

  Theo shook his head.

  “She’s not carrying my child anymore; you know that as well as I do. They killed everything I loved, everything I had, everything I was.”

  “Theo, wake up! You are more than the person they tried to turn you into.”

  “Would you like me to go and turn myself in to make their job easier?”

  Theo clutched his stomach, racked with a searing pain. He choked as his body jerked.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he whispered, his breath coming in gasps. His dark eyes glittered in their sockets. “I’m going to find my brother’s killer. That’s the only thing I want.”

  Adriana shut her eyes and threw back her head. “Revenge, hatred. You’re thinking just like them.”

  The door opened. “We set sail in ten minutes. If you want to get off the ship, it’s now or never.”

  Adriana stared at Theo. He turned his face away.

  She stood up, arranged her scarf on her head, and stepped out the cabin door.

  —

  Maria looked at herself in the mirror. It had been more than ten years since she’d chosen to stay in Argentina. Now she could resurface. She liked her new identity. She had a straight black bob that contrasted with her milky skin and bangs covering her eyes, making her look older than she was. These changes were accompanied by a new attitude. She was a charming woman.

  She buttoned up her floral dress with the round neck, threw a white sweater over her shoulders, and made sure she had enough money in her wallet to pay for the bus ticket downtown. These days she was working as an assistant accountant in a busy office. She had taken up her new job as a challenge after spending almost seven years as a bookkeeper in the secluded confines of San Ignacio church, for fear of being recognized by a police informant. But now she had nothing to be afraid of. The military were no longer in power, and she no longer needed to stay hidden.