by Helen Young
‘Is it important?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Are you hungry?’
She smiled.
‘Telma, we’re going out for lunch,’ he said.
‘Again?’
When they were clear of the building, he took her hand.
‘Luke, you can’t,’ Felisa said, looking around.
‘Who do you suppose will be watching?’ he snapped, immediately regretting it. She didn’t reply. ‘If this is too public, come to mine for supper soon. No one will notice us there.’
‘Please let go of my hand, Luke,’ she said, trying gently to free herself.
‘Say you’ll come and I will.’
She nodded and laughed. Felisa looked up and down the street and when she was happy they weren’t being watched, leaned upwards and kissed him.
‘I thought you minded?’ he asked, stealing a kiss back.
They forgot the time over lunch and sat for more than an hour. After they’d eaten they walked around for a bit. Felisa didn’t want to go back yet. There was something she wanted to show him, that she’d mentioned while they were eating. They crisscrossed La Candelaria and ended up eventually far from the office at the foothills of Monserrate. They’d stopped in front of a bronze statue of a woman seated on a plinth.
‘This is Policarpa.’
‘Hello,’ Luke said. The statue was larger than life – too large. It appeared clumsy because of it.
‘She was beautiful,’ Felisa said.
‘You admire her for that – for her beauty?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not that. She was more determined than any man to fight for what she believed in.’
Luke looked up again. The figure did look defiant, with her arms stretched behind her back. He could see why Felisa might like her.
‘During the fight for independence, she was a spy for the revolutionary forces. She was captured but steadfast to the end. The Spanish shot her because of it.’ Felisa looked like she was about to cry. ‘Why do you think they did that?’
‘Because beautiful women frighten ugly men.’
Felisa smiled.
‘We should head back,’ he said. ‘Telma will be worried.’
‘Yes.’ She put her arm around him and the two of them made their way back like that.
Policarpa is an unusual name, he thought, turning to catch sight of the statue one last time. From the back, he saw that the bronze-cast hands were in fact tied.
When they got back to the office, Telma wasn’t in her usual spot. Perhaps she’d gone out for lunch. It meant another brilliant hour alone together.
‘What’s wrong with you two?’
They’d almost missed Camilo, waiting for them in the shadows. He was seated on top of Felisa’s desk.
‘Move, or you’ll ruin it,’ she said, going across the room and pushing him aside.
‘All right, all right,’ he said rising. ‘I brought this.’
He produced a thick white card and handed it to Luke.
‘What is it?’
‘Invitation. The National Museum opening in a couple days’ time.’
‘Oh,’ Luke said, looking across at Felisa. It would mean a whole night with Camilo.
‘It’s inside of the old prison, the Panóptico,’ Camilo said, looking between them. ‘You do know my uncle insists you be there.’
‘Your uncle? I thought you didn’t get on?’
‘Oh, don’t let’s go into it, Luke. We’ll go together, then?’ Camilo smiled slowly. ‘It’ll be like New Year’s again.’
He took his time kissing Felisa on the cheek and then left. Luke went over to the door and closed it.
‘He’ll hate to be there if his uncle is,’ Felisa said.
‘Perhaps.’
‘You know they don’t speak.’
‘I’ll have to go. If Osorio’s involved I have little choice.’
‘Why should you mind? Isn’t it what you wanted?’
He crossed the room and slipped his hands around her waist.
‘I’m sorry. I’d rather spend the time with you, that’s all.’
‘You’re like a boy,’ she said, kissing him.
*
La Casa de la Risa was as he remembered it – the old man behind the grill in the kitchen and his sometime daughter waiting tables. He looked up when Luke entered and grinned. In the gloom he spotted Karl seated towards the back and went over.
‘You know they say the socialists come here?’ Luke said, sitting down opposite him.
Karl brushed the accusation away.
‘All the better for it. Means we won’t be seen.’
‘By whom?’
Luke looked back towards the door. True, there were men huddled in groups around the tables, but none looked threatening. Karl had a beer in his hand. Luke ordered another two from the girl.
‘Your eye has healed, then?’
‘What? Oh, that. Yes, I suppose it has.’
‘Your wife wasn’t too upset?’
‘More upset about that coat.’
The girl brought the beers.
‘It was a gift.’
Luke took a sip. He counted three empty bottles on the table already. ‘What did you want to tell me?’
‘Christ, Luke, I don’t know if I should.’
‘You must have thought so earlier.’
Karl just sat there.
‘I’ve got a lot on my mind, Karl.’ He wasn’t sure where this was going. Felisa had said she would spend the night at hers, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Camilo would be there waiting for her when she arrived home.
‘All right, Luke, but it’s big. I mean huge, really.’ He knocked back the remains of his bottle and picked up the new one. ‘It’s Gaitán.’
‘You’re the second person to mention him to me this week.’
‘And why not? He wields a lot of power.’
‘What about him, then?’
‘Not a friend of Osorio’s.’
‘Osorio is a powerful man. I’m sure he has as many enemies as friends.’
‘Don’t be poetic, Luke.’ Karl leaned forward. ‘Osorio and his pals have got it in for this Gaitán. Like, really got it in for him. It comes up in conversation a lot.’
‘But there’s more?’ There was definitely more.
‘His nephew, that young journalist. You think he can be trusted?’
‘Camilo? Yes,’ Luke sighed, ‘he can. Hasn’t breathed a word about the project.’
‘Can you arrange for us to meet?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Karl. They don’t get on.’
‘I know they don’t, but that’s precisely why it has to be him.’
‘I’ll need a bit more to go on.’
Karl took a long swig of beer. ‘Your planning permission. Someone in Gaitán’s administration got word. Didn’t like what he heard Osorio and his bully-elite were planning to do. He told Gaitán and Gaitán didn’t like it either.’
‘We’ve already been over this,’ Luke said, a little too loudly. ‘It’s all been pushed through.’
‘Yes and no,’ Karl whispered. ‘It’ll cook up a shitstorm if word got out Osorio was filling his own pockets without a thought for the people he’s evicting.’
‘But I’ve built in housing,’ Luke said. ‘You’ve seen the plans. You all agreed to them. New model homes for the poor.’
Karl grimaced. ‘You remember Blanco, the draughtsman? One-time employee of yours. Osorio wasn’t quite sure about some of your designs. Got his own man to adapt them before they were put to the committee.’
Luke felt the blood rush from his face. ‘And you knew? For Christ’s sake, Karl!’
‘I’m sorry, Luke. We all stood to gain. You too, of course. We still do, but there’s a threat now from Osorio to Gaitán that could wreck everything. Also, I’m broke. Osorio’s had me paying city officials left, right and centre since this thing began, but not coughed up a penny in return. Mrs Draper can’t live on thin air, y
ou know.’
‘What threat to Gaitán? Karl, what’s Osorio planning?’
Karl drew his hand across his throat. Luke had never seen someone do that before and mean it.
‘You’ve got to get me a meeting with the boy.’ He produced a cigar and lit it. ‘He must have something on his uncle I can convince him to leak. Some woman or family tucked away that Señora Osorio doesn’t know about. It might be enough to make Osorio back down.’
Luke nodded. ‘It might, but why do you care what happens to Gaitán?’
‘I might be a glutton, Luke, but I’m not a murderer. Christ, the man’s got a daughter.’
‘It just seems crazy. Osorio is ruthless, but this?’
‘As I’ve said. I had no idea, Luke. I thought it was about making a quick buck out of bricks and mortar but not at this price. I mean, Jesus, we just fought a war to be free of dictators.’ Karl pulled a crumpled old cloth from his pocket and wiped his brow. ‘Arrange the meeting, please, Luke. I’m tired of this. Mrs Draper wants to go back to Michigan. Her mother’s sick. To be honest, I couldn’t care if the old crone died before we got off the plane, but the sight of her face, compared to what I’ve seen here, is a fair thing to aim for now.’
‘Does Osorio suspect you, Karl?’
‘Of course not. I’ve been very discreet.’
‘If I help you, will the work continue as it did before? My way instead of Blanco’s?’
‘If we can get to Osorio, shake him up a bit, then we might be able to reverse what’s been done. The alternative is much worse, believe me, Luke.’
‘All right, Karl, but I’ll tell Camilo. You stay away from him.’
‘There’s one more thing, Luke. The money – please, it’s embarrassing to ask.’
‘Of course, Karl. How much do you need?’
They parted on the corner of Seventh Avenue. Luke walked the rest of the distance to his apartment trying to make sense of it all. Osorio had lied to him since the beginning. He was nothing but another hand to be turned, manipulated at will. Luke thought of the brilliant plans Felisa and he had worked over, of what had gone into them. He wondered which bits that worm Blanco had erased. It was like ripping the heart from a body and saying it would live. All of it must be true. Karl was afraid; Luke had seen it in his eyes when they’d parted. He knew it would take something beyond words to divorce Karl from making a pile of cash. Why not leave quietly, though, and abandon Gaitán to his fate? Karl, it seemed, had a conscience after all. And so did he. He had to see Camilo, regardless of how he felt about him now, otherwise they’d all have blood on their hands. Felisa would never get over the loss of her beloved leader. She would never forgive him if she found out he’d stood by and done nothing. This time, Luke thought, I will do the right thing.
33
The following day the Pan-American Conference blew into the city with all the fanfare of a travelling circus, bringing with it the outside world. Luke was in his apartment getting ready to leave for the office on Divorce Street, as he now thought of it. He urgently needed to see Camilo but couldn’t find him. It was as though the newspaperman had completely disappeared. Or he was hiding. After he’d left Karl last night, Luke had phoned the number Camilo had given him for his office and then again this morning, only to be told each time by the operator that they couldn’t find him. Was he out covering the conference, Luke wondered? At all hours? No, Camilo had to know he’d been calling. He was avoiding him. Luke had no way of knowing if Osorio’s plan was already in motion. A telegram from Karl had arrived at the apartment that morning, demanding an update. If Osorio was as bad as Karl said he was, he’d have people in every part of the city. Karl was becoming careless. Luke had to get hold of Camilo, and soon.
God damn it, he thought, pricking his finger on his tie pin, I’ll have to go there in person. He crossed the room. He’d make Camilo listen. Whatever he thought of him, he suspected his sympathies would lie with the paper and politically with Gaitán. He was relying on Camilo’s vanity to blind him to any sense of loyalty he might feel towards his uncle. Luke grabbed his jacket and pulled the door of his apartment shut.
He reached the corner of Jiménez and looked up at the news board. Not even two days in and it was already singing the praises of the delegation. Jesus, it was boring and predictable. It wasn’t real news. Nobody knows what’s coming, Luke thought – if it’s true. The Americans had taken over the Hotel Granada a week ago. It was almost impossible to get a drink there uninvited now. Most of the senior delegates would be at the museum opening tomorrow. He had to get to Camilo before that. Before facing down Osorio – he knew he had to get the project back on track. He wasn’t going to lose the housing for the people – it was what connected him to Felisa.
Inside the lobby of the news building, Luke asked the woman on the reception desk if he could see the reporter, Camilo Osorio. He had a big story, he said, giving over a fake name. He wasn’t sure if Camilo wanted to see Luke Vosey. She told him to wait while she contacted the switchboard. At the far side of the lobby was an elevator. Some of the men passing through it looked like Camilo but none of them were him. He smiled at the receptionist. He didn’t want to go too far in case she had Camilo on the line. He wasn’t going to leave without telling him what Karl had said.
‘I’m sorry, they can’t find him,’ she said, taking the receiver from her ear.
‘I keep being told that,’ he said. ‘Can you try again?’
She sighed. She didn’t want to. There were other people waiting in line.
‘Just once more?’
‘Once more,’ she said, putting the phone to her ear and dialling again. She said Camilo’s name down the receiver. Then she said it again but slower, then she spelled it. ‘You’re sure it’s Osorio?’ she asked, muffling the mouthpiece with her hand.
‘I saw it in print myself,’ he said. ‘O.S.O.R.I.O. Osorio.’
She repeated what she had already said to the operator, but this time she looked annoyed because she had already spelled it correctly and wasn’t going to do it again.
‘There must be some mistake,’ Luke said to the man waiting behind him.
‘No mistake,’ the receptionist said. ‘Are you sure you didn’t mean El Espectador? Have you got the right paper?’
‘No,’ Luke said. ‘I didn’t mean El Espectador, or Jornada, or El Siglo or anywhere else because I won’t find Camilo Osorio there, and the reason I know that is because he works here, at El Tiempo.’
‘And do you know,’ she said, matching his tone, ‘why I know you won’t find Camilo Osorio here at El Tiempo?’
‘No,’ Luke said. ‘I really don’t.’
‘You won’t find him here, because there’s clearly no one by that name that works here.’
‘Got your answer, my friend.’ It was the man in the queue, but Luke hadn’t heard, he hadn’t understood.
‘Look,’ he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘My name’s actually Luke Vosey and I have something very important to tell Camilo Osorio, so you better find him.’
She stared at him in disbelief.
‘Listen pal, I’m Camilo, OK?’ It was the man from the queue. ‘You tell me what you’ve come to say and leave this lady alone.’
‘I’m not mad,’ Luke said. ‘He wrote a piece on me!’
‘Uh huh,’ she said.
‘He brought copies to my apartment.’
‘I’m sure he did,’ she said.
‘Stop bothering the miss now, will you?’ The man from the queue had been joined by building security.
‘Thank you,’ Luke said to the receptionist. ‘I can find my way.’
The men followed him until he was clear of the doors.
Luke walked blindly into the street and was almost run over. He made it to the pavement across from the office block and looked back at the El Tiempo building, just in case it wasn’t real, and he’d turn and find a bank or shop front. Why had she said Camilo didn’t work there? Of course he did. Luke stood in the street
for some time, confused about what to do next. He wondered if, if he waited long enough, Camilo might come out, as he had seen him do before. Then he could explain about the switchboard error. Then he could tell Camilo what Karl had told him about Gaitán. He thought about going across the street, about trying again but with his real name, perhaps that had been it? Or perhaps he needed to pay them? Yes, that must be it: there wasn’t a Camilo Osorio because he hadn’t asked in the right way. He’d try again. He stepped into the road but caught sight of the security guard still standing in the window of the building. The man was watching him, and had been for some time, apparently – long enough to have called some friends in. Luke stepped back up onto the pavement and walked away.
He made it across town to his office. As soon as he arrived, he phoned Karl. No answer. He tried him again an hour later at his office, but his secretary said he’d taken some time off. Perhaps he’d already fled with Mrs Draper. Luke didn’t know what to do about Gaitán and spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to think about Camilo. It didn’t make sense. He’d checked the afternoon editions of all of the papers but the story hadn’t broken. Gaitán was fine. Things weren’t fine, though. There were too many unanswered questions for him to feel everything had just worked itself out. And the one person he wanted to talk to, the one person he wanted to ask, who he usually couldn’t get rid of, had vanished.
‘Have you seen Camilo?’
Felisa looked up. ‘You asked me that ten minutes ago.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. What’s going on, Luke?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. He couldn’t tell her. Tell her what? That Karl suspected Osorio was going to murder her hero? That Camilo didn’t work at El Tiempo? ‘It’s nothing.’
Telma came into the room. ‘Any plans for this evening, señor?’
‘Not yet,’ he said.
‘And will you be seeing your sweetheart tonight?’ She meant Felisa, and she meant Camilo.
‘Why not head off now, Telma?’ he asked her.
‘But I’ve not finished filing.’
‘Do it tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Friday is a good day to finish things.’
She stood there for an irritatingly long time.