by Manolo Mario
“Campos, seriously, I think this profession is not suiting you despite your years. Our company is doing quite well and we do not need money.” He produced the brown paper bag and poured the bundled bills onto Campos’ ornate desk. The pacing Campos stopped suddenly and his eyes grew exponentially as his mouth went wide.
“Señor Campos, we have this much money and would like you to tell me how much we should deposit in the account and how much we should give you as repayment for the loan? I would not want to draw unneeded attention to your books. What should we do?”
Campos stood speechless, interchangeably looking up at Galo and down to the bundled bills. Galo remained steady and pleasantly looking, sort of a smile without it being a smile. He thought he saw a tear appear on Campos’ eye, but also thought the way he smelled caused it.
“Señor Bartolo, I don’t know what to say. Forgive me for thinking ill of your intentions. This is unexpected, but you have made my day!” He reached for the bundles and began counting them by the corner. He did it in the fastest manner Galo had ever seen. Campos looked up and affirmed the number counted. Galo nodded his concurrence.
The banker smiled, “We will deposit half into the account and will write out a personal receipt for the other half which I will apply toward the loan. Will you be all right with that?”
“Why yes, Señor Campos, it is why I wanted to have you guide me. I know you have an important meeting in a few minutes. If we have concluded, I will leave you to your next meeting and get back to work.”
Campos jumped from behind his desk and came around to escort Galo out. He brimmed with a huge smile as the door opened. Galo kept thinking he smelled like crap and yet the money seems to deodorize him.
Señorita Vazquez, having touched up her makeup, almost did not turn from her chair. When she did, her eyes softened for Campos who was laughing and patting Galo on the back. “Señor Bartolo, I hope you have a good day. Señorita Vazquez, please show Señor Bartolo to the door.” She pointed with an open palm and Galo followed.
Carmelita looked amazed. “I don’t know what you did, but I owe you. I’ve never seen Señor Campos’ disposition change so rapidly before.”
Galo smiled back. “So you owe me, right?”
Chapter 16
“Luis and Ernesto, come in for a moment,” exclaimed Captain Gonzalez. Both aides entered the office and sat where the Captain offered.
“Despite the success of our warehouse operation, I have been reading the reports for the last few weeks and I am growing more concerned about the criminal activity. What are you hearing from the men?”
Both Ernesto and Luis looked at each other and Luis offered an answer.
“There is nothing to tell, Captain. It goes in spurts. First one side of the city is infected and then they move to the other side. We catch the bad guys. They say little. We put them in jail. We thought we would catch their leader the night of the warehouse, but he apparently slipped away. Not one of those arrested spoke of the leader. I think they simply did not know.”
Gonzalez pointed at a map on his desk. “One thing I did noticed is ever since that bakery fire, this area of the city has not had any issues. Which of our men are responsible for this area, Ernesto?”
Ernesto opened his notebook and flipped through some pages. He ran his index finger down the page, flipped back and forth, and cleared his throat. “Well Captain, there is Lieutenant Piro and his squad. The area crosses over to Lieutenant Rosales and his squad.” Ernesto flipped a few more pages, so as to confirm and added, “And our lone ranger, Santiesteban, covers the area as well, but without a squad.”
“Is there anything we can learn from what the men are doing? Are you hearing any chatter?”
“Not really, Captain. The squads are out and about covering the city. They have taken turns working nights to make sure the peace is kept.”
“Any noise around improprieties?”
Luis straightened in his chair. “Not anything unusual.” He looked behind to make and lowered his voice, “the men are collecting for protection in a reasonable manner. I think the steadiness and consistency of your envelope is representative of everyone’s.”
The captain shrugged and uttered a sound. “Very well. Would you think it too disruptive if we moved either Piro or Rosales and his team to another sector? Perhaps they can take care of the problem?”
Luis shook his head side to side. “That would be too disruptive. It would take time for a squad to get their feet well established. We may end up with two bad sectors instead of one.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “You may wish to move or add the sector to Santiesteban. He doesn’t have a squad, so there is no disruption and it should appeal to his sense of importance. That is unless you wish to give him a squad, Captain.”
“No, not yet. He hasn’t been on the long. I am aware there have been no issues with him since the first day. He has made an effort to blend in with the men and hasn’t complained about jail duty or anything else. I think you hit on something, Luis. It would be a good idea to give him this sector and see if he can fix the problem. Make sure there is no concern on the part of the team.”
Luis pointed to Ernesto, who made the note in his book, “Very well, sir. Captain, what about providing a gun for Santiesteban?”
“God, no, not yet. We need to give it more time. Besides I haven’t received a response to my letter asking for more background. I know his uncle has written, but I haven’t heard from the authorities in Barcelona. … Now, don’t look at me funny. I appreciate that this should have been done before bringing the guy on, but I owed his uncle a debt, remember?”
Ernesto broke the growing anxiety, “I’ll take care of communicating the change and make it work. Is that all, Captain?”
With a nod, both Luis and Ernesto stood and turned to the door while the captain straightened his reports. He sat quietly considering his luck. He thought about the night eighteen or so odd years before. The dark night when he knew he would perish by the blade or bullet of the King’s soldier.
The Spaniards overran the rebel lines. A young Rafael Gonzalez found himself trapped in the woods with a gash on his leg. He managed to crawl into the woods after ripping his trouser leg and tying it tight around the wound. Only then did he manage to stop the bleeding. Despite his best efforts, he could not walk and the pain debilitated him. Before sunset he mustered enough energy to take loose branches and cover himself so as to avoid being easily spotted. He had no other plan than hope. Hope that he could make it through the night. Hope that he could gather his strength to find water and get back to his rebel friends.
The crunching of sticks and grass awoke him in the middle of the night. Startled and reaching for his machete, he breathed hard. He discovered his pain once more and this caused him to wince and moan. He looked up though his makeshift camouflage to glimpse the figure of a man standing before him holding his machete. A moment of panic was immediately followed by a hard exhale and total relaxation as if to say, ‘make this quick,’ Gonzalez simply smiled at the figure.
The man held the machete low and loose, “Are you hurt badly?”
Gonzalez tried to speak, but coughed, “Have you water?”
The man knelt and brought his canteen to Gonzalez’ lips and let him drink. After some more coughing and throat clearing, he nodded thanks to the man.
“You are a Cuban rebel, I can tell. Would you like a cigar?”
“Why not. If you are going to kill me, I might as well enjoy a smoke.”
“Kill you? Why no, I am not going to kill you unless you try to kill me.”
“That’s new from a Spaniard! Besides, I can’t kill you. I am hurt and cannot move much. Besides you are offering me a cigar.”
The man lit up a cigar and another handing one to Gonzalez. They sat there in the middle of the night quietly smoking. Gonzalez broke the silence, “Did you kill many Mambises19 yesterday?”
“No, I did not kill anyone yesterday. The truth is this was my first engagement, and
at the first charge, I feigned being hit and fell back. As the battle continued, I progressively stayed back and slowly crept to the line of woods on the left flank. As night fell, I started my march away from this war.”
“What? Are you not the King’s soldier? Do you not believe in fighting to keep Cuba? Or, are you a coward?”
“I never thought myself a coward, but maybe I am not so brave.” The man paused and looked up toward the night sky. “I would keep Cuba only if Cuba wanted to be kept. I don’t approve of Spaniards fighting Spaniards. It hasn’t led to too much over the last hundred years. Our forefathers settled these lands and many of our people moved here. These new world countries revolt against Spain, wanting to be their own masters. Spain sends men to fight them. They die and Spain comes to terms with the new land and they become friendly again. All for what?”
“I am born in Cuba, but my parents were Spaniards. Despite my affinity for Spain, I want Cuba to be free. We have no need for a king. That is part of the old world.” Gonzalez extended his hand, “My name is Rafael Gonzalez. And which philosopher am I speaking with?”
“My name is Remei Verges from Barcelona. This philosopher was volunteered to come here. You are not only injured, but you are an idealist as well. My new friend, you and your rebels are going to be in for a big surprise.” Gonzalez gave him a baffled look. “Yes, don’t look confused. You are merely going to trade Spain for the United States as your master. This island is too close to them and too far from Spain.”
Gonzalez moved to try to reposition himself, but gasped in pain. An alerted Remei reached for him. “How bad are you hurt, Rafael?”
Breathing heavily Gonzalez pointed to his leg. “It’s my leg. It’s been cut. I stopped the bleeding earlier, but I think it has started again.”
“Damn, you need something stronger then!”
Remei reached into his sack and brought out a flask of rum, which he gave to Rafael. Rafael took a big gulp followed by some coughing afterwards. Remei took the flask back and took his swig.
“Where were you headed? Perhaps if I help you get there, you can help me get to a ship that will take me back to Spain.”
Gonzalez thought a moment and understood that he would die if he did not risk it with this man. If he meant to kill him, he would have done so. Instead he shared a cigar, water, and rum.
“I believe there is a farmhouse about three and a half kilometers from here toward the coast. There is someone there that can help. I don’t think I can make it, but perhaps you could come back.”
“You can make it. Let me retie your leg and I will make you a crutch.”
Artfully, Remei took a shirt from his sack and cut it into strips. He carefully tied above the wound and redressed the cut after sprinkling some rum on it. Despite Gonzalez’ moaning and gritting, the bleeding stopped and the pain eased. Remei cut off a sturdy branch from a nearby tree so Gonzalez could use it as a cane.
He helped Gonzalez up, hooked his arm over his neck on the side of the bad leg and they started on their way with Gonzalez half walking and half hopping. Lucky for both men, the Spanish fleet met defeat the next day outside of Santiago bringing Verges’ historical observations to fruition. Gonzalez received medical attention and Verges returned to Spain without issue.
Unknowingly in the reverie, Gonzalez found himself rubbing his leg under his desk and once again understanding the debt that he owed.
* * *
19 Mambises were Cuban rebels fighting Spain.
Chapter 17
Esperanza recovered fairly well from the bad episode with her husband days ago. More recently, his work kept him away; something she welcomed beyond any wishes. She avoided confrontations by staying on schedule. She made sure the baby girl dressed nicely and was well attended when her father came home. The apartment was kept neat and some meat and potatoes were always ready. She did not discuss work or question her husband when he did not come home until early morning. On these occasions, he merely washed his face, ate breakfast, and went back to work. She did not even care that many of these mornings he smelled of perfume and other more foul inclinations. She allowed his secrets just like she wanted to keep hers.
With the additional found freedom, Esperanza befriended more neighbors in her building and ventured to see a little more of the city. She typically took the girl with her as it attracted people. On many occasions, the little girl drew inquiries from friendly strangers. It ignited conversations with people and made her feel welcomed. Esperanza also found refuge in a church not too far from her apartment. The priest welcomed her to the parish with open arms. He insisted that she come to church with her husband on Sundays. This was not an easy mandate to achieve. All the same, she found the strength and the courage to convince her husband that being seen at church every so often would gain him respect with the neighbors and improve his standing with the police force. There were other policemen who attended the church, she pointed out. Reluctantly, and with unintelligible grumblings, Santiesteban agreed. His attendance came with a stern warning against her offering confessions to the priest about their lives.
Strictly abiding by the rule, she attended confessions weekly, but these were of minor inconsequence; more to keep the priest at ease, and allow her to take the sacrament without issue. The impurity of her heart became acceptable to her conscience. She managed a life in this new world and built safety from her violent husband. Why she had fallen into this situation puzzled her, but she knew she had no control.
Sunday after mass Esperanza left the church with the other parishioners when a middle-aged woman approached her outside the doors. She had shaken the priest’s hand and barely walked ten feet when the lady outfitted in a plain dark dress and shoes tapped Esperanza on the shoulder.
“Pardon me, but are you not Esperanza Puig from Barcelona? Are you the one who married the horrible policeman Verges?”
Inadequately trying to cover a panicked look on her face from behind her embroidered veil, Esperanza looked around nervously for the sight of the ogre she feared most. “No, you are confusing me with another person. Excuse me, but I have an appointment to get to.”
She turned the stroller and began walking away, but the lady came back at her in a voice that was not too loud but commanding.
“You are Esperanza and I would recognize you anywhere. You may not remember me, and you may wish not to be recognized. I know if I were married to that pig of a man, I wouldn’t want anyone to know. In any case, I have a letter for you from Jordi. You know, the girl’s father.”
Esperanza stopped as suddenly as she turned away and quickly stepped back, and looked around to see who was within earshot of the lady. There were many people, and they were all engaged in loud conversations minding their own business, thank goodness. Even the priest still laughed it up with another family.
A white-faced Esperanza inquired, staring into the lady’s eyes, “You have a letter, you said? Why are you here and why would you find me?”
The lady spoke softly and handed the letter over in a discreet manner. “I have been looking all over town for you since I arrived about a month ago. I am also from Barcelona and I am a friend to Jordi’s family. He asked me to find you and get this letter to you.”
“At first, I thought I would find the man you married. I thought that once a policeman always a policeman. After not finding any Verges in the police department, I started to ask around the churches for a young woman with a small girl. It did not take long to have someone at this parish tell me of you. I was confused at first because of the last name. Well, I would have changed my name as well, I guess.”
Esperanza experienced an internal state of terror. Despite the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband, this time she feared for her life. She held the envelope and stared at it, “Are there other people who know about this? What are your intentions? What are you going to do with this information?”
“Me? I do not intend to pass this information along to anyone. I am merely delivering the lette
r as a favor to Jordi and his family. As to the rest of the information, it is public knowledge in Barcelona. Your family was not going to have you marry Jordi. You were pregnant and they sought out a responsibly employed man with a good name. Little did they know that he wasn’t. Yet, you married, had the child and gave the child his name.”
The lady recited her biography unemotionally. Esperanza began to weep quietly as the lady continued, “When the authorities raised noise about the actions of your husband, they were late in finding him. Everyone assumed you had gone to America. America is big and no one knew where you would end up.” She reached out and lifted Esperanza’s chin so as to force eye contact, “You should know it is understood that most emigrants come through Cuba to go to other places. If I can find you, so could others.”
The essence of the information felt like ice-cold water poured down her back and almost made Esperanza faint. How she remained standing as this information reverberated was incomprehensible. Her head spun, letter in hand. She looked at her little girl. She looked at the priest, then at the church, and finally at the lady. She lifted her veil and quickly wiped away her tears. She cried with little sobs. “I don’t know what to say. Decency tells me I should say thank you, but I cannot tell you how you have turned my life upside down. I have to thank God my husband was not at church this morning because my death would have been on your hands.”
“On my hands? Do not fault me for the complications of the old world. You can thank your own family and fate. Everyone in town knows your husband is an animal.”
Esperanza could not stand one more minute of this and pleaded, “Go away, lady! Leave me alone and don’t ever approach me again. Please have the kindness to never speak of this again. As far as you should be concerned, you lost the letter!”