Ganado: a novel

by Manolo Mario

  Leo looked down, “Iii’mmm soooo, sorry the sooon dididied.”

  “Never mind that. The stupid baker had it coming to him for being so greedy and arrogant. In any case, the loss of the bakery means a loss of income which we need to replace!”

  Pablo and Leo gave a puzzled look at one another.

  “Perhaps it would be beneficial to let float a rumor that robbers sparked the fire. This might provide an even bigger sense of fear and get the other businesspeople to provide more money for protection. Yes, I think I will spread the word.”

  ***

  During the next few weeks, Santiesteban spent nights walking his beat on his own time. He made sure all who could, would see him guarding their property. Shortly, he made his rounds and everyone acquiesced to the higher premiums. The neighborhood felt devastated by the death of the younger Itani; the idea of thieves starting the fire made it an easy sale. Moreover, the loss of good bread had everyone in a bad mood.

  The enterprise of the New World was fabulous. Where else can a laborer from Europe, destined to be the same thing their father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were, start anew and through his thinking and enterprise build, grow and gain wealth. Santiesteban wanted all these benefits. He wantonly neglected to consider his limited skill and lawless nature. He gained practice and experience in Barcelona, but it led to his mad dash to leave Spain and re-establish in La Habana.

  He rationalized that he possessed the law and wielded the power to impose it. He would take advantage of it irrespective of the impediments. In the short time here, he accumulated a slew of patrons who paid him for his protection. It brought him a steady flow of cash, which allowed him to eat well, stay presentable in public, indulge in life’s pleasures, and of course, keep his darling daughter looking prettier than anything on earth.

  Somehow, he pondered that despite this good work, he was not amassing his fortune. It was not enough. He spent money. Besides his daughter, he liked the cigars, the rum, and the local women and his money went for all of it. Despite these Cubans being untamed, uneducated and un-European, they placed these items in the right priorities. He did not understand why they were so intense on bathing, but he accommodated their peculiarity before enjoying them in the flesh. He concluded the price of the service needed revising. It seemed to be increasing at an inordinate rate. He thought he needed to speak with Lulu and put some sense into her approach.

  Why not more? Santiesteban’s venture began with small investment on two small time criminals. He organized them to create havoc with businesses along his beat. This allowed him to visit these owners and make arrangements to stop the thefts and the damage caused by the break-ins. Though a few of these colonial rats refused and resisted, a few larger thefts, a couple of quick slaps, and a threat to do worse, seemed to do the trick.

  Yes, one rebellious baker didn’t want to play. He was liable to rile the neighbors, and create a scandal that would put an end to the enterprise. In all consideration, many were merely making an economic decision, so they could go on with their work. Not this one character. He was righteous beyond right.

  The cure and silence had come with a middle of the night lighting of a flame. It made sense, except for consideration of the gas. Bells rung and almost the whole fire fighting force awakened in the middle of the night to control this fire. The loss of life was a casualty of the father’s aggression, never the intent.

  And as luck would have it, the fire eliminated the one impediment and a little rumor instilled an even greater level of fear to wield upon his patrons. Though the official reports were well publicized, most of the business owners in the district knew better. It reaffirmed in their mind that this cop could not to be fooled with. One cannot fight fire with fire. Fire needed water and after that night, all preferred no fire at all.

  Santiesteban considered his options for increasing his income. He thought perhaps he could work in another part of town. This posed the problem of intruding on another cop’s territory. No one at the precinct ever spoke about these matters. They all understood a cop could not live on his own salary. He had been relegated to this part of town and business produced good returns. He would have to go and appeal, convince his patrons they should give him more.

  But it would have to wait. On this Tuesday, March seventh, the United States Navy docked at the port and the Marines paraded through the city on their way to Camp Columbia west of La Habana. Time had run out on President Menocal and his cronies, and there was no better way for the Ambassador to deliver the message than to have the full faith and force of the United States of America stand behind his message.

  If the fear of a formal investigation into the bakery fire rattled the Lieutenant, he practically shit in his pants at the sight of armed and uniformed Anglo-Saxons parading into the city. He vaguely knew that this happened before, but didn’t comprehend what to make of it. He knew the Americans kept a base close by and at the far eastern part of the island, but never expected to see them in La Habana.

  The Lieutenant entered the station on the run and out of breath. He stood for a moment, but saw no one in the station on alert. Nervously he asked the sergeant, “Listen, Garcia, what is going on? Why is the American army invading?”

  Sergeant Garcia looked closely at the Lieutenant. “You mean you don’t know?”

  Santiesteban shrugged and nodded.

  “It happens now and then. You see we are so close to them that whenever they think we are becoming too Spanish, they come to straighten it out.”

  The Lieutenant gulped.

  “You know that the Americans are going to deport all the Spaniards!”

  “What? They can’t do that, can they?”

  The Sergeant nodded.

  Santiesteban’s eyes opened wide and he bolted to the Captain’s office.

  ~~~

  The Captain had just finished going over the week’s schedule with his assistants, “Look out men, Santiesteban is on the run!” Arroyo and Perez barely turned to avoid the rushing Santiesteban. They left the Captain’s office.

  “Captain, Captain, you need to help me.”

  “Santiesteban be at ease. What is wrong man? What can I help you with?”

  “Sir, I want to ask for political asylum. I really don’t want to go back to Spain! You know what they will do to me!”

  The Captain walked around his desk and touched his Lieutenant’s shoulder. “Now, why would anyone want to send you back to Spain?”

  “The Americans! They’re here! I know they want less Spanish people here! They will send us back!” He panted.

  “What? Who in the world told you that?”

  “Well, I saw them march through the streets and then the Sergeant verified what they were here to do.”

  Captain Gonzalez laughed heartily and patted the surprised Spaniard. “I’m sure it was all in jest.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly that. The Sergeant was joking with you. The Americans are only here to conduct an exercise. They don’t send Spaniards back to Spain.” He kept smiling. “I’m glad to see the men are taking to you, enough to play practical jokes on you. Enjoy Lieutenant.”

  “Why that fat bastard! Some joke!” The Lieutenant turned quickly out the office.

  Captain Gonzalez followed him with his eyes considering that he had taken the joke seriously. ‘He can’t take a joke either? I wonder what in the hell has him scared of returning to Spain?’

  As it was, not much would come from this U. S. action. The Marines camped and trained at Camp Columbia, west of the city. Other than the show, they helped the local economy by spending some money on their free time in La Habana. One could assume that eventually President Menocal saw that the ambassador was right. A few months later, the troops would move out for another policy situation in another part of the Caribbean.

  Chapter 15

  The war in Europe raged for almost two years and despite the fact that the western hemisphere avoided direct battles, it also suffered. Almost a
year ago the Germans sank the Lusitania and 123 American lives were lost. Still the United States did not enter the war, but concern grew as published in the papers daily. The Germans pledged not attack neutral ships, but vowed to fire at ships in certain zones around their enemy, mostly Britain. To many observers, the message didn’t seem to reach their sub captains. If a ship fell in their sights, they fired at will.

  The world was in a dark place at the time except for the few beams of light that managed to break through in places like Cuba. And as with every unsure and chaotic event, opportunity for profit existed. The contraband of weapons and information made La Habana an important center. There were German spies. There were British spies. There were American spies. There were freelancing spies from neutral countries. Information was for sale and people would speak more softly in public spaces. Irrespective, the city was a great place for such activities. People were social, out and about. The active port afforded the custom of having foreigners around. Most of the ships were merchants, but from time to time a warship would dock. The authorities would make sure that after provisioning, it would head out quickly.

  As these prevailing circumstances evolved, Elio’s plan worked out better than even he expected. The price of beef climbed by fifty percent by the time the first contracted shipment arrived. A more astute broker would have been screaming foul at Elio, but Camilo Ortiz was oblivious to the circumstances. He received payment up front for three years’ shipments and busied himself spending his bounty and enjoying life. He had found a willing discounter for a portion of his contract. Ortiz was no fool so as to spend it all, but he liked to live well. Beside, it was a side deal from his regular duties.

  At the Matadero El Sol, a jovial mood prevailed. Everyone celebrated the birth of Galo’s son months ago and now they were anxious to work with some of the new tools Elio purchased. The extra money provided extra benefits for everyone. The men were delighted with the new water pump that allowed water to be mechanically drawn from the cistern. There would be no more buckets. The hose would attach to the pump providing pressure that made washing away refuse much easier. More time would be spent on production and less time on menial tasks.

  Alonso beamed with his books. In three shipments, the slaughterhouse made in profit what they would have made in six months. Beef exported for the war effort rested primarily with the bigger houses. Matadero El Sol focused on the local market. With the scarcity created and the greater demand from the influx of people, their house benefitted tremendously.

  “Elio, I want to show you the books. Do you have a moment?” asked Alonso with a smile on his face.

  Elio dried his arms after washing. He returned to the office after making sure the deliveries had gone out. He followed Alonso up the stairs. Alonso closed the door behind them, opened his locked cabinet and brought out several sheets of paper. He reviewed the volume and pesos of the last shipments and walked him through the benefits. He turned to his third sheet, which forecast the business for the remaining year.

  Elio squinted to read the numbers. “So, if I read your handwriting and numbers correctly, we will be able to double our size by year end, correct?”

  “We could if we wanted to invest in that manner. Keep in mind we have sacrificed some of our earnings in order to let the company grow and it would be good to get some of the benefits back.”

  “Why yes, of course, we need to consider it. We also cannot forgo our opportunity to grow. Maybe we can work another contract with another vendor and move a bit away from Ortiz. He shouldn’t find out right away, but it would be good to have him feel a little competition. We don’t need him to get greedy with us and think we are in his grip.”

  “We definitely need to do that. What about the bank? I know they fronted the money, but you and Galo haven’t told me when they expect the money back.”

  “We didn’t tell you? Well, it’s a special arrangement Galo worked out with our banker and the banker is friendly. He didn’t want to push us too much. He believed in us completely.” Elio spoke in a light-hearted manner, covering the smile and his cynical thoughts.

  “Wow, a friendly banker? I’ve never met one in the past. Not that I had many occasions to do so. Either way, he must be an incredible individual to want to help us this way.”

  “More than you would know, Alonso. A man’s man he is. So I will let you know when to pay.” Elio nodded and stepped towards the door.

  “Can we do it soon? I don’t want to leave all the cash we are holding in our safe.”

  Elio stopped and looked back, “How much is there?”

  Alonso opened the safe door and showed Elio a stack of bills. Elio’s eyes opened wide. “Coño! I agree with you. We can’t keep that here. Let me go get Galo and ask him to take it to the bank. It’s so much, I may even want Rico to go with him in case there is any issue.”

  Elio walked the length of the slaughterhouse to find Galo, who was showing a new hand how to properly cut tenderloin. One understood the gory task with one look at Galo. Blood draped his apron with the usual streaks from fresh reds to deep purples and coagulated browns, the byproducts of his gory trade. The different colors denoted the time of day of the bleeding that produced each stain. With his cigarette dangling on his lips, there were splattered droplets of blood on his forehead and cheeks. Elio signaled to join him.

  He paused for a moment to contemplate his friend and thought of a boxer finishing the tenth round. “Galo, I need you to go to the bank and make a payment on our loan.

  “Well, Elio, that would be a welcomed surprise to Campos. I wonder what would be a good amount that will take the edge off the man? But, wait a minute. You want me to take it right now?”

  Elio glared at him. “Of course, now. What the hell? We got cash upstairs that can’t stay here. It has to go to the bank!”

  “Look, despite the apron, I smell of blood, guts and whatever else. I’m in no condition to go to the bank!”

  Elio grabbed Galo’s arm, “Come with me!”

  He dragged him upstairs to the office. “Alonso, show Galo the safe.” Alonso nodded and opened the safe exposing the piles of cash to Galo. “Ah, shit on me! Why in the hell did we allow this much to build here? Shit on me again! Now I have to go to the fucking bank smelling like a dead cow. Better yet I shit on both of you!”

  ~~~

  Despite washing up, an uncomfortable Galo found himself walking with a brown paper bag under his arm along with Rico, who resembled a tall bell tower.

  “Of all the megalo-fucking horse dicking smegma ideas, I’m having to walk with an elephantiasis stricken baby sitter. Nothing draws more attention than having us two at this time of day when anyone who knows us expects us to be working at the slaughterhouse. How did I ever agree to this shit?” Galo mostly muttered to himself. Rico fought back his laughter. In twenty minutes they reached the door of the bank.

  “Now Rico, you stay out here; better yet, go have a coffee. There will be no opportunity for trouble once I walk through those doors. We will not do this regularly. I swear on my mother, may she rest in peace.” Galo looked to the sky.

  He entered the bank and walked to Señorita Vazquez’ bureau. “Señor Bartolo, I wasn’t expecting you! Did we miss an appointment?”

  Galo answered politely taking his hat off and standing a bit away from her. “Good morning Señorita, please forgive me for coming to see you in this manner. No, there is no appointment, but I do have a situation that has crept up and would like Señor Campos’ advice.”

  Señorita Vazquez, turned a bright pink, fussed with some papers and opened a marked book. “I’ll have to check with Señor Campos. He has a meeting in a few minutes and asked for a file to prepare.”

  Galo commanded in a polite manner, pointing at the doors to the office. “That’s all right. Go and mention to him that I need a few minutes and will be out of his way as soon as possible.”

  She seemed more apprehensive to Galo than at any other time. She looked back and forth to the closed door and to
Galo before finally rising. Vazquez knocked lightly and entered the room. Galo stood and looked around the main floor. He was conscious several people and the guard were looking at him funny. He took some sniffs in and around him to see if it was he, but he couldn’t discern anything.

  ~~~

  Inside the office, Campos became upset and nervous. He stood and paced looking at the floor. “How could you, Carmelita? I don’t want to see that butcher. He and his team have driven me crazy! I am preparing for a very important customer. You were not forceful! I’m not sure what to do with you.”

  Carmelita Vazquez shook and her eyes misted. She remained motionless. Campos looked up and felt struck. She was so beautiful and sweet he couldn’t do anything. “Alright, you are an excellent secretary, highly organized, prompt and you work the clients well.”

  She wiped her cheeks. “I am so sorry, sir. I thought he was an important customer based on your last meeting.”

  Campos softened. “Of course, my dear. Never mind me. I’m edgy about this next meeting. Please go ahead and let Bartolo in.”

  The secretary turned and opened the door and waved Galo in. Campos stood without smiling, but pleasant enough. “Señor Bartolo, what a surprise. Please forgive me, but I am pressed for time.”

  He looked past Galo and ordered. “Vazquez, please close the door. We’d like some privacy.”

  ~~~

  Galo looked back as the door closed and remained standing.

  “What can I help you with? I hope you are not back for more money.”

  “Señor Campos, please, don’t be so distrusting. You followed through with your arrangement; for which we are eternally grateful. We will live up to ours.”

  “What would you like? What are you here for?”

  “On behalf of our partners, I wanted your advice on certain money matters.”

  Campos buried his fists into his open agenda. “Damn, you want more money! I knew it the moment I heard your name. I am already struggling, shifting numbers and hiding this loan from my board. I should have given up from the onset and confessed my indiscretions.” The banker muttered more unintelligible words and paced once more.