by Lewis Shiner
«Not nervous,» I said. «Afraid.»
«I’m scared, too,» Elena said. «But I’ve been thinking about this ever since that man, Mateo, told his story.»
«Do you believe him? Do you believe he’s your father?» We had carefully avoided the subject for over a week.
«Probably. I can’t think about him yet. I have to think about Osvaldo, about what I’m going to do. I want him to stand trial and go to jail. I wish we had the death penalty. I wish we could sentence him to torture for the rest of his life. I wish there was some way to make him pay for what he did.»
There was nothing to say. I squeezed her hand.
She said, «The only way I know to even start is to find those files.»
«You know there’s not much chance of us finding them. The police have looked. They have his computer.»
«I know.»
«If we don’t find the files, maybe Mateo could testify against him.»
«Mateo has no proof. And in order to testify he would have to give himself up.»
I flagged a cab and we got in. I gave the driver the address. After a minute she slid over in the seat and rested her head on my shoulder and we rode that way in silence.
All too soon the cab pulled up outside the office. I paid and we got out. It was 10:30, and this close to the microcentro the crowds were even heavier than in San Telmo: tourists, families coming from the movies or a play, office workers hurrying to catch the last train, young couples headed to a late dinner. Waves of sibilant Argentine Spanish broke all around us.
I reminded her of the cameras in the lobby, in the lab, and in the open area where my cubicle was. The lab camera was on the wall above Suarez’s desk, so the desk itself was out of its range. I talked her through what we would do, and I watched her nervousness turn back into excitement.
I used my key to get in the front door of the building and we rode in silence to the sixth floor. I saw my face in the chrome of the control panel. My expression was empty and dead, the right eye bloodshot.
A second brass key opened the door to the reception area. I paused long enough for the present to superimpose itself on my first memory of her. It gave me a fleeting rush of something like joy.
My Universal ID badge took us past the next set of glass doors and into the break room. There was a set of cubbyholes there, labeled with our names, for physical mail. Suarez’s slot was empty.
The next stop was my cubicle. Her face fell at the sight of it. «It’s so sad and small,» she said.
I booted up my computer. Paranoid and driven by my need for control, I had cobbled together an actual test script. I sent it over the network to the controller in one of the test beds.
I looked over to see Elena holding my garnet crystal. It was unpolished, reddish purple, about the size of a golf ball, with five-sided facets. «What is this?»
I had memorized the word in Spanish. «Granate,» I said. «My massage therapist in the US gave it to me. It’s supposed to be for the root chakra, at the base of the spine.»
«And how is it supposed to help you?»
«It’s supposed to help the feeling…» I was about to choke up. I shoved the weakness away. «The feeling of not having a home,» I said. «If you believe—»
«Yes, yes, if you believe in that sort of thing. Do you?»
«Not really. But it feels good to hold it sometimes. The weight of it.»
«What do you believe in, Beto? Not in God. Not in crystals. Do you believe in us?»
«Is hope the same as belief?»
«No.»
«I hope,» I said, «that someday soon I will come to believe in us.» I got up and started to move past her.
«Wait,» she said. She put her arms around my neck and very slowly moved up against me. «Remember this when you’re in this sad, small place and feel like you don’t belong anywhere.» Then she kissed me with such tenderness and passion that it cut through all the sadness and numbness and fear, and I was alive again and fully in the moment.
In the circumstances, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
*
For an awkward second I thought I’d forgotten the combination. It was a recurring nightmare, standing at my high school locker without a clue, bells ringing for class, panic rising.
I dried my hands on my pants legs and jiggled the handle to clear the memory. These two together, these one at a time, then two more.
The handle turned. I switched on the row of lights that ran down the right side of the room. I pointed to Suarez’s desk in the corner and fed her the line I’d rehearsed for the security camera: «You can sit over there, I just need to look at a few things.»
«Claro,» she said.
She would quickly see that what I’d told her was true, that there was nothing left to find, and then we would have done all we could and we could go.
I switched on the monitor for the controller, loaded the script and fired it up. There were eight client systems in the test bed and I turned those monitors on too. The first error message popped up immediately. «Bueno,» I told it. «Keep up the good work.»
I walked to the end of the row, where I could see Elena. She knelt in front of Suarez’s desk, working one of the bottom drawers back and forth, a puzzled look on her face. I felt something cold squeeze my stomach.
She looked at me and beckoned me over.
I crossed the room and squatted next to her. She pointed to her ear, inviting me to listen. She opened the drawer again, hesitating as it was almost all the way out. The drawer was completely empty.
I showed her my hands, palms up. What was she talking about?
She moved the drawer in and out a couple of inches, back and forth. Then I heard it. A faint scraping noise.
I motioned for her to let me in and tripped the release that let me take the drawer all the way out. I turned it around and there, stuck to the metal plate at the back with layers of clear packing tape, was a CD in a Tyvek envelope.
Elena had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
I pulled the tape off, got the envelope open, and took out the CD. It had “contabilidad.xls” handwritten across it in green marker. Accounting.
We were both crouched there, staring at the disc, when the rest of the lights flickered on.
*
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Bahadur stood in the doorway, one hand still on the light switch. I was paralyzed, a kid caught with his hand in his mother’s purse.
“I asked you a question,” he said.
“Bahadur—” I said.
“Talk fast, man, before I call Security.”
“Give me five minutes,” I said. “I’ll explain everything.”
“I’m listening.”
“Not here.” I jerked my head in the direction of the camera above my head.
He held the lab door open. “My office,” he said.
We walked in single file. Once inside, with the door closed, I held up the CD and said, “I think this is what got Suarez killed.”
«Beto, what are you doing?» Elena whispered.
«We have to trust him,» I said. «He may be able to help.»
Bahadur switched to Spanish, in deference to Elena. «Are you crazy? You’re getting mixed up with the Suarez business? Do you have a death wish?»
«She’s already mixed up in it,» I said. «Elena, meet Bahadur, my boss.»
«Encantado,» Bahadur said.
«Can you trust me long enough to spin up this CD and see what’s on it? Then I’ll tell you what I know.»
«Why should I trust you? You lied to me.»
«I didn’t exactly lie,» I said. «The test is running. But yes, I deceived you. I’m sorry.»
We stared at each other across the narrow space of his office, then he looked at Elena. «It’s easy enough to see why you did it,» he said. «I’ll listen, but if I don’t like the story, I’m going to have to do something.»
«Okay,» I said. I handed him the CD and he fed it to h
is computer. When it showed up in his Explorer window it contained a single Excel spreadsheet named contabilidad.xls. I glanced at Elena.
«Open it,» she said.
The file was three pages long. The first column, Date, started in April of 1976 and ran through November of 1982. There was never less than one entry per month and some months had three or four. The second column was Check # and the third was amount. Substantial amounts, generally between 5,000 and 10,000 US dollars. In the Received By column, the name was usually Emiliano Cesarino. The rest of the time it was Osvaldo del Salvador. The Notes column had comments like «Met EC at el Obelisco 1300 hours for delivery—MS» or «EC sent confirmation of contracts—MS.»
Some rows had blank check numbers and the Notes column showed model numbers of Universal equipment, with an estimate of the value under Amount. The equipment alone totaled over a million dollars.
Bahadur was the first to say anything. «This is not evidence, yes? There was no Excel in 1976. There wasn’t even Lotus 1-2-3 or VisiCalc.»
«No,» I said. «He must have copied it from handwritten notes.»
«Let me be sure I understand this,» Elena said. She looked like a kid who’d gotten a French racing bike for Christmas—stunned, excited, and not quite sure what she was going to do with it. «Universal Systems was giving money to the dictatorship?»
«That’s what it looks like,» I said. «Money and computers.»
She pointed to the Notes column. «The MS means Suarez was carrying the money himself?»
«Probably,» Bahadur said. «He was the bag man.» He looked at me. «‘Bag man,’ yes?»
I nodded.
«If nothing else,» Elena said, «this ties Osvaldo to Cesarino. No?»
«It doesn’t do much of anything,» Bahadur said, «except show people where to dig. If Universal really was stupid enough to pay out of their business account and still has the cancelled checks, and the endorsements can be tied to somebody in the government, then maybe you’d have something. But what are the odds that those checks are still around?»
I said, «Most likely they made the checks out to cash and Suarez put the money in a paper bag.»
«Evidently Cesarino thought it was worth something,» Elena said. «It was worth enough to get Suarez killed.»
«Claro,» Bahadur said. «Because Suarez’s testimony is what it would take to make this stand up in court. Without it?» He shook his head.
«Which means this is evidence that Cesarino had him killed,» Elena said.
Bahadur shrugged. «Cesarino’s trial will be over in a day or two. They’ll find him guilty, he’ll get house arrest, like Etchecolatz. There’s nothing more they can do to him, even if they add Suarez’s murder to the list.»
«What about Osvaldo?» Elena asked.
«Why all this interest in Osvaldo?»
«He’s her father,» I said. «Her adoptive father.»
That stopped him. “Ah,” he said. He thought a little and then he said, “Ah,” again.
Elena said, «What do we do now?»
«Unless Bahadur says no, I’m going to copy the original, because it’s got Suarez’s writing on it. We put the copy where we found the original, in case somebody else is looking for it. Then we go try to get some sleep.»
«Go ahead,» Bahadur said.
«Can you make a couple of extras?» Elena said. «Just in case?»
«Burn one for me too,» Bahadur said. «Because I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do.»
*
We went back to the apartment, but not to sleep.
«Are you in trouble now at work?» Elena asked. I lay in bed, holding her. I was in pajama bottoms, she was in one of my T-shirts, which came to her knees. The lights were out and warm, damp air leaked sluggishly through the open window.
«I don’t think so. Bahadur isn’t a…he doesn’t live for the company, you know?»
«If I did something that hurt you, I could never forgive myself. Oh, Beto, I can’t sleep, I can’t stop thinking about this.»
«You don’t have to figure everything out tonight. There’s always tomorrow.» I turned my head to see the clock. 1:49. «Later today, I should say.»
«Maybe I should go to the police.»
«The cop who came to the office was named Bonaventura. You could go see him. Me, I don’t trust him. I don’t know which side he’s on.»
«Then I have to go to one of the judges in the Cesarino trial. I have to try something.»
«Do you want me to come with you?» My head throbbed as I said the words.
«No, thank you, but…I think I can do better on my own. A pretty girl, maybe a little helpless…»
In another mood I might have found her charming. As it was I resented her easy confidence in her ability to manipulate men—simple, gullible men like me.
«Oh, Beto,» she said, nuzzling her head into my chest. Her ability to read my moods bordered on the psychic. «I do need you, you know that. And I love you. And right now you must go to sleep. Turn over and I’ll rub your back. And then we’ll both sleep.»
*
Elena took Linea A to Congreso at ten in the morning. She started with a guard outside the courtroom and by noon she had worked her way up to a few minutes with one of the prosecuting attorneys, a very businesslike young woman in heavy black-framed glasses named Dominguez.
It went the way Bahadur had predicted. The evidence against Cesarino was overwhelming, and in comparison to kidnapping, torture, and murder, a little financial corruption barely registered.
«But this shows direct support of the dictatorship by a US corporation.»
Dominguez smiled. Elena described the smile as thin and tight. «I hate to say this, but this is hardly news. Everyone knows this.»
Elena asked about Osvaldo. Dominguez took a printed list out of her briefcase. It ran to five pages, single spaced, and each line had a name and a few words of context.
«I don’t have him on my list. You have to understand, just now we are going for los peces gordos, the big fish only.»
«He tortured my mother to death,» Elena said.
That finally broke Dominguez’s reserve. She took Elena’s hands in both of hers and said, «I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. There were so many to blame. Fuimos todos, somebody said. It was all of us.»
*
While she was at the courthouse I was at work. As a precaution, I emailed a copy of contabilidad.xls to my personal email account. According to the instant message system, Bahadur was in his office. He didn’t contact me and I left well enough alone.
Elena was asleep when I got back. I stretched out beside her and went to sleep in seconds. In the States I’d never taken naps. In Buenos Aires they were a necessity of life.
I woke up at 11:30, Elena a few minutes later. We heated some soup and threw together a salad while she told me about her day.
«In the end she took the CD and my name and phone number, probably just to make me feel better.» I held her while she cried a little, then we ate and I said, «Do you want to go out?»
«You mean dancing? Tonight?» The way her face lit up when she was happy, the way her whole body hummed with energy, was the most potent drug I had ever known.
«Why not? Porteño y Bailarin goes late tonight.»
«Oh, Beto, yes. Yes, please.»
*
We both dressed up and the crowded intimacy of the tiny dance floor and the scratchy music of another time was in fact exactly what we needed. After the first tanda, as we walked to our table, Elena said, «Just for tonight, would you mind terribly if I didn’t dance with anyone but you? You can dance with other people, but tonight I don’t want to be with strangers.»
I stopped and faced her. «I don’t want to be with anyone but you.»
«Then why are we going back to the table?»
We only stayed an hour. The classes and the practice had taught us to move together better than ever, but they couldn’t keep us from feeling the long day in our feet and shoulders.
>
In the cab afterward, I watched the pleasure of the dance floor seep away from her. There is always that moment at the end of the night, the concession that you can’t keep moving forever. More than that, I knew that time alone was not going to heal the pain she was going through, that patience and love were not going to be enough.
For all those reasons, I said, «I know what you’re thinking.»
«Beto, I’m so sorry. It’s been lovely and it’s not right to let those other things spoil the evening.»
«It’s not spoiled. I want to help.»
«I know you do, querida.» She nodded toward the cab driver. «Later. We can talk at home.»
Back at the apartment, we undressed in silence and took our turns in the bathroom, and as I crawled into bed next to her I thought I would be asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. She was in her favorite orange T-shirt of mine, lying on her side facing me, her head propped on one hand.
«There’s no one left to go to,» she said. «The judges don’t care and we can’t trust the police.»
The thought that had come to me in the cab returned and left me wide awake.
«Okay,» she said. «There is one other person.»
We looked at each other, waiting each other out. Finally I broke the impasse. «Say it.»
«Mateo.»
«I think he’s crazy,» I said. «He told me he intends to bring Osvaldo down. I don’t think there’s any question he means by violence. Even if it kills him to do it.»
Elena’s expression didn’t change, her eyes didn’t blink. «Sometimes I feel that way too.»
The words took all the warmth out of the room. I rolled onto my back.
«You think Mateo’s crazy,» she said. «Does that mean you think he was lying about being my father? You never said.»
I saw that I couldn’t stop what was going to happen, that the best I could do was to not abandon her, to stay close and do what little I could to keep the worst from happening. «No,» I said. «I believe him.»
«Then I need to talk to him. About Osvaldo, but also to see if I can make some kind of peace with him. While I still can.»
With infinite reluctance I said, «Yes. Yes, I guess you have to.»
«I don’t even know what I did with the phone number he gave me, I was in such a state that day.»
