as possible. Is there anything that you can do for me?”
“I am sorry, sir. If you were a client yourself, you would have Señor
Gordero’s private number, but I am under strict instructions not to give that
number to the public.”
“I am not the fucking public, you puta. I am Renaldo De Seta’s brother.
Thank you for all your help and please go to Hell at your earliest convenience!”
Lonnie slammed the black receiver down, shaking with frustration.
“Goddamned slut! Who does she think . . .” He looked at the reverse side
of the business card as he flipped it onto the nightstand. There was a second set
of numbers written in ink.
“Son of a bitch!” His fingers dialed the number. The connection was
crystal clear this time.
“Astor Gordero.” The voice stunned Lonnie. He had never expected to
actually be able to talk to the attorney in person. Now, he was mute with awe
and trepidation.
“Astor Gordero! Is anyone there? Who is this? Please speak up. We must
have a bad line.” Lonnie took a deep breath and plunged in with both feet.
“Señor Gordero, it is a great honor to actually reach you. This is Lonnie
De Seta speaking, Renaldo’s older brother. I believe you have met my mother
as well.”
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JAMES McCREATH
There was complete silence on the other end of the phone. At least
ten seconds passed. It seemed like an eternity to Lonnie. He repeated his
introduction before the older man could speak.
“I said, Señor, this is Lon . . .”
“Lonnie De Seta. Yes, yes, I heard you, my boy. This is a surprise!”
The Fat Man was frantically signaling Wolfgang Stoltz to tape record the
conversation on the in-house wire tap and also to make sure that the line in
was being traced.
“So, Lonnie, I’ve been expecting a call from you for weeks. Renaldo told
me that you had promised to be back for the tournament if he made the starting
roster. Quite frankly, I think your brother is disappointed that he hasn’t heard
from you. Where are you now, and what can I do for you?”
The solicitor looked over at his assistant, who held up his thumb and
index finger in a circle to indicate that everything was in order.
“I am back in the capital, Señor Gordero, but in a rather sad state of affairs.
I have been camping on the glaciers down in Bariloche with my girlfriend.
The weather turned nasty, and we lost everything in a blizzard. Food, clothes,
personal items, even my wallet. In truth, I am lucky to be alive. My girlfriend is
at the hospital in Bariloche with fractured ribs and other injuries. She is going
to be alright, but I had to come home to get money and clothing for us both.
My arrival just happened to coincide with the World Cup final.”
Lonnie took another deep breath and kept going. “I suppose you know
why I am calling you this afternoon, and you must forgive my bluntness, but it
would mean the world to me to be able to see Renaldo play tomorrow. Is there
any way that you could secure me a ticket, Señor? I would be indebted to you
for the rest of my life if you could achieve such a miracle.”
There was a slight chuckle at the other end of the receiver.
“Lonnie, Lonnie, I have been known in the past as a miracle worker of
some proportion, but this! This is something I fear the Savior himself would
have trouble accomplishing. However, seeing as you are my star client’s only
brother, let me see what rabbits I can pull out of my hat. It will take some time
to arrange things though. I won’t have an answer for you until tonight. Where
can you be reached? Do you have a number?”
Lonnie blurted out the number of Marla’s personal line. The powerful
Gordero had been cordial and sympathetic to Lonnie’s initial request, so the
bandit decided to go for broke and rub the genie’s lamp twice more.
“With respect, Señor, I have no money to pay for a ticket if your search is
successful. You see, as I said my wallet was lost in the storm and I arrived home
after the banks closed last night. I am not staying at my mother’s house, for we
have had a strained relationship the last few months. Would it . . . do you think
it would be possible to borrow a few thousand pesos until Monday when my
bank opens? Then I will pay you for the ticket and the loan, with interest!”
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RENALDO
“Well, let me see what I can do, Lonnie. I think there might be some loose
change sitting around the office here. Don’t worry, money can be taken care of.
The ticket is the hard item to secure. It will be like finding a needle in a hay
stack!” Again, The Fat Man’s self-amused laugh filled the line.
“One last request, Señor, if you don’t mind. Would it be possible for me to
call Renaldo? To tell him I am in town, and that I am trying obtain a ticket to
see him play? Could I please get his number at the training facility?”
The voice that answered the final question was totally different from the
one he had previously heard. It had a hard edge, a certain authoritarian finality
to its uttered reply.
“That is out of the question! Your brother has only one thing that he
needs to think about, and you know very well what that is. I will not tolerate
any interference or distractions as to our ultimate goal. After Renaldo is a
World Champion, then and only then will you be able to congratulate him.
I will contact you when I have word on the availability of a ticket. Stay right
where you are, for I will only try to contact you once. Good-bye until then.”
The abruptness of the termination startled Lonnie. It had been like talking
to two different people. He supposed that the ability to change moods and
personalities was an asset to a great theatrical litigator such as Astor Gordero.
He had just been given a tutorial in the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde School of legal
linguistics.
The fact that he now stood an infinitely better chance of seeing his little
brother play the following afternoon was enough of a boost to displace the bad
taste that the curt conclusion to their chat had left. What was more, his wallet
might just be chock full of pesos if ‘The Generous One’ took pity on the poor,
displaced camper.
Two out of three requests isn’t bad for a complete stranger. Isn’t bad at all!
Lonnie smiled with satisfaction as he poured some Scotch into the tumbler
and made himself comfortable for viewing the Brazil-Italy pregame festivities.
“My God, Wolfie, do you believe that? It is another sign, an omen boding
well for us, and hopefully for all of Argentina. The planets are definitely aligned.
I have been searching for that man for months, and he suddenly places himself
in the palm of my hand. What more could I ask for?” Astor Gordero beamed
with his good fortune.
“A victory against Holland tomorrow, of course!” was Stoltz’s reply. “But it
has been an incredible run of good fortune since we arrived home from Rosario,”
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JAMES McCREATH
the German continued. “First, the flaccid English bow to your nonnegotiable
terms regarding the two players.”<
br />
“Then that mobster Dominico cedes his rights to Ramon Vida and signs
over his transfer papers. You should have heard him squeal, Wolfie, just like the
swine he is. He said that I was robbing him of his future superstar. I told him
he will make so much money once Newton’s relocates that he can buy the boy
back in two years. He is lucky that I did not ask for more!”
Gordero was, of course, talking about the Boca Juniors situation and the
dealing required to obtain the personal services of their star center forward.
The Fat Man continued his discourse revealing more good news.
“Then, after two days of your adept romantic persuasion, Florencia De Seta
arrives in this office to inform us that she is prepared to take her mother-in-
law Lydia to court over control of the De Seta empire. She also states that such
action will very likely be unnecessary, for the old woman has been bedridden of
late with a serious undiagnosed malady!”
Mock concern shrouded the solicitor’s face. “The Señora’s daughter-in-law
has been alerted by the staff in Pergamino that the situation is so grave that it
might be necessary to fly the matriarch back to the capital to be hospitalized.”
“The wrinkled old bitch won’t live to see Buenos Aires again. Good
riddance!” was Stoltz’s caustic comment.
“But, Wolfie, the most touching moment of all was when Florencia
informed me that you had personally convinced her to allow Renaldo to travel
to England. When she said that, she realized she could not control his life
anymore, and that as long as he was enrolled in a medical school while he
played football, she would give the boy her blessing. That she now wanted to
concentrate all her attentions on the control of the family business, counting
heavily on your personal stewardship to guide her. My, my, you do work wonders
with that magic wand of yours!” Gordero’s belly shook from a bout of hearty
laughter.
“I accept the compliment, Herr Chairman, for you know how much I
enjoy my work.” Stoltz had that mischievous grin of total satisfaction about
him. “Now, what are we going to do about Lonfranco?”
The phone rang at that instant. Stoltz picked up the receiver, listened
intently, then wrote down something on his notepad.
“That was the tracer. The call came from this address on Calle Viamonte.
We have him!” He tore the piece of paper from the spiral binding and handed
it to his employer.
“Good, very good! It is all working out so perfectly. With Lonnie and
Lydia disposed of, Renaldo halfway around the world, and Florencia under your
spell, we will have everything we wanted. Control of perhaps the largest private
family fortune in Argentina.”
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RENALDO
The Fat Man rested his entwined hands on the crest of his ample belly.
“That tape of my conversation with Lonnie must be destroyed immediately.
There can no link between us and him. Look after that right away.”
“Of course. Anything else?” Stoltz stood ready with pen and pad.
“I feel generous, things are going so well! Poor Lonnie is out of money,
nowhere to run and hide, his life on the line at every turn. And yet, all he wants
to do is to see his brother play tomorrow. Of course we could hit him right now.
He would never know what happened. But I think in light of the circumstances,
we could give the terrorist a twenty-four-hour reprieve, don’t you? Let him see
his brother holding the World Cup trophy. Share in the triumph all Argentines
have been waiting for. When that has been done, it can be good-bye forever.”
Gordero held up his right hand with his thumb and forefinger in the shape of
a pistol, placed it against his temple, and dropped the thumb imitating the
weapon’s hammer.
“Boom. One less De Seta to concern ourselves with. Let’s give Lonnie the
satisfaction of meeting his maker after seeing his little brother play for the
World Championship. It is the charitable thing to do. So, get me Rojo Geary
on the red line and look after those tape recordings. My, how all this good
news makes me hungry. Give me five minutes to talk to Geary, then send in
Simone.”
“Lonnie?” The blunt voice was all business. There was a pregnant silence
on the other end of the line. Finally,
“Yes, it is me.”
“You are a very lucky young man! I hope that your brother is equally as
lucky tomorrow. I have secured you a press pass as a photographer. It will take
a bit of play acting on your part, but my man will be with you to provide the
essentials. You will be permitted on the field, behind the barriers at one end.
Now listen carefully. Do you know the Café El Molino on Avenida Libertador?
I think it will be as close to the stadium as the security forces will allow you
to go without a ticket or a pass. My man will be outside the front door of the
café at one o’clock. He will be wearing a black leather jacket with a Newton’s
Prefect crest on the front. You can’t mistake this man. He has bright red hair.
His name is Oswaldo, and he will stay with you for the afternoon. Oh, yes, he
will also have an envelope full of currency. I am sure that you will find the
amount to your liking. Do not be late, Lonnie.”
The facilitator paused to let the voice on the opposite end of the line
digest the information, then continued with a spiritual message.
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JAMES McCREATH
“I expect a victory for our great nation in return for this favor. Think
positively about your brother. Help guide him to the victory podium. You
can call me next week when the celebrations end. Good luck and good-bye for
now.”
“Yes! Renaldo, my brother, I will be there for you now!” an ecstatic Lonnie
De Seta screamed at the top of his lungs as The Fat Man bid him adieu. “And
I will have money again, money to help me hide from the assassins until I can
secure my identification from the bank. This is a great day, and tomorrow will
be an even greater day for Renaldo De Seta and all of Argentina!” He grabbed
the Johnny Walker bottle and replenished his tumbler. “Viva Argentina, viva
RRRRRRRenaaaaaaaalllldo!”
An unusually cold, grey afternoon set the backdrop for the third-place
fixture at River Plate Stadium. The impressive structure was filled to capacity,
even though the host nation was still twenty-four hours from taking the field.
Both of the contesting teams would have preferred to be playing a day
later as well, but their national pride was at stake this afternoon, and they put
on a spirited and entertaining show.
The stadium seemed equally divided as to number of supporters.
Thousands of Brazilians had made the journey to Buenos Aires to witness their
heroes one final time. The Italians were by and large, supported by Porteños,
whose hatred for the men in yellow had grown throughout the last few days by
leaps and bounds.
The undefeated Brazilians had complained bitterly to FIFA officials that
Argentina had been given a huge advantage by commencing their game against
Peru after the outcome of the Brazil-Poland fixture had gone into t
he record
books. The host nation knew exactly how many goals it needed to advance, a
benefit not given to any of the other competitors.
Those FIFA officials stated simply that the fixture time had been set to
allow the home side’s followers an opportunity to see their heroes play. The
country would have ground to a standstill if the match had been started at
4:45 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. They also claimed that knowing what
was needed to advance did not guarantee that they would accomplish the
required task. Brazil’s protests fell on deaf ears, and the populous of Argentina
interpreted these insults as just more sour grapes from a lesser opponent.
The Italians opened strongly and remained in control for much of the
initial forty-five minutes. They were rewarded for their efforts with a 1-0 lead
at the interval. Unfortunately, it appeared that they had left their confidence
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RENALDO
and offensive skills in the depths of River Plate when the whistle sounded to
start the ball rolling again.
The Brazilians struck on two long blasts, the same type of shots that
had undone the Azzurri against Holland. There would be Samba music in the
streets of the capital again this night, for a 2-1 victory by the yellow shirts had
earned Brazil the third-place finish in the 1978 World Cup Tournament.
At the national training center, the Argentine players tried their best to
stay loose and enjoy themselves as the day of destiny approached. The four full
days of rest and recuperation had done much to heal those physical and mental
bruises that each player had accumulated over the course of the long, gruelling
tournament.
To a man, they felt confident of the outcome that tomorrow would bring.
This was due in large measure to the nurturing care and attention to detail
provided by manager Octavio Suarez. His calm hand and gentle guidance were
infectious. Gone were the days of the raving tyrant, the aloof, even hostile
dictator.
This team had advanced further than the manager had ever imagined
in his wildest dreams. It was now time to bond together for the ultimate test.
Their strength would lie in their unity of purpose and their willingness to go
the extra distance for each other.
The final evening in camp would feature no tactical meetings or pep talks.
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