pleasantly. The old bedsprings complained as he
sat up. The priest was slightly taller and heavier
than his brother. He had sandy brown hair
and kind brown eyes behind wireframe glasses.
Because Norberto wasn't constantly exposed to the
sun like his brother, his skin was paler and unwrinkled.
"Good evening, Norberto," Adolfo said. "This is
a pleasant surprise." He tossed his threadbare
bag on
102 OP-CENTER
the small kitchen table and pulled off his sweater. The
cool air coming through the open window felt good.
"Well, you know," Norberto said, "I hadn't
seen you in a while so I decided to walk over."
He looked over at the ticking clock on the
kitchen counter. "Eleven-thirty. Isn't this rather
late for you?"
Adolfo nodded. He dug into his bag and began
pulling out dirty clothes. "There was an accident on
the bay. An explosion on a yacht. I stopped
to assist the police."
"Ah," Norberto said. He stood. "I heard the
blast and wondered what it was. Was anyone hurt?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Adolfo said. "Several
men were killed." He said no more. Norberto knew
about his brother's political activism, but he
didn't know anything about his involvement with the General
or his group. Adolfo wanted very much
to keep it that way.
"Were the men from San Sebastian?" Norberto
asked.
"I don't know," Adolfo said. "I left when the
police arrived. There was nothing I could do." As he
spoke he began throwing the wet clothes over a line
strung by the open window. He always brought spare
clothes on the boat so he could change into something
dry. He did not look at his brother.
Norberto walked slowly toward the old iron
stove. There was a small pot of stew on top. "
"I made some
cocido
at the rectory and brought it over," he said. "I
know how you like it."
"I wondered what smelled so good. Not my
clothes." He smiled. "Thanks, Berto."
BALANCE OF POWER 103
"I'll warm it for you before I head back."
"It's all right," Adolfo said. "I can do that.
Why don't you go home? I'm sure you've had a
long day."
"So have you," Norberto said. "A long day and a long
night."
Adolfo was silent. Did Norberto
suspect?
"I was reading just now that in the same way as God is
beneficial,
good
is beneficial," Norberto said with a smile. "So
let me be good. Let me do this for you." He went
to the stove and lit the flame with a wooden match. He
shook the match out and removed the lid from the pot.
Adolfo smiled cautiously. "All right,
mi hermano,"
he said.
"Be
good. Even though if you ask anyone in town, you are
already good enough for the two of us. Sitting with the sick,
reading to the blind, watching children at the church when both
parents are away-""
"That's my job," Norberto said.
Adolfo shook his head. "You're too modest.
You'd do those things even if the priesthood weren't
your calling."
The smell of Iamb filled the room as the stew
began to warm. The deep popping of the bubbles sounded very
cozy. They reminded Adolfo of when he and
Norberto were boys and they ate whatever their mother had
left for them on the stove. When they were together
like this, it didn't seem so very long ago. Yet so
much had happened to Spain ... and to them.
Adolfo kept his movements unhurried. Even
though he didn't have time for this now, he didn't
want to give Norberto a reason to worry about
him.
104 OP-CENTER
Norberto looked over at his brother as he stirred
the stew. The priest appeared wan and tired in the
yellow light of the bare overhead bulb. His shoulders
were more and more rounded every year. Adolfo had long ago
decided that doing good must be a draining experience.
Taking on the sorrows and pain of others without being able
to pour out your own-except to God. That required the
kind of constitution Adolfo did not have. It also
required a kind of faith Adolfo did not have.
If you were suffering on earth you took action on earth.
You didn't ask God for the strength to endure. You
asked God for the strength to make things right.
"Tell me, Adolfo," Norberto asked without
turning. "What you said a moment ago-was it
true?"
"I'm sorry?" Adolfo said. "Was what
true?"
"Do I need to be good enough for you and me?"
Adolfo shrugged. "No. Not as far as I'm
concerned."
" "What about as far as God is concerned?"
Norberto asked. "Would He say that you are good?"
Adolfo draped his wet socks over the line. "I
wouldn't know. You'll have to ask Him."
"Unfortunately, He doesn't always answer me,
Dolfo." Norberto turned now. "That's why
I'm asking you."
Adolfo wiped his hands on his pants. "There is
nothing on my conscience, if that's what you mean."
"Nothing?"
"No. Why are you really asking me this? Should I be
worried about something?"
Norberto took a mug from the shelf and ladled stew
BALANCE OF POWER 105
into it. He brought it over to the table and pointed.
"Eat."
Adolfo walked over. He picked up the stew and
sipped it. "Hot. And very good." As he sipped more
he continued to watch his brother. Norberto was acting
strangely.
"Did you catch anything tonight?" Norberto asked.
"Quite a bit," Adolfo replied.
"You don't smell of fish," Norberto
said.
Adolfo chewed on a thick chunk of lamb. He
pointed to the clothesline. "I changed."
"Your clothes don't smell of fish either,"
Norberto said. He looked down.
Suddenly, Adolfo realized what was wrong. He
was the fisherman but Norberto was doing the fishing.
"What brought this on?" he asked.
"The police telephoned a while ago."
"And?"
"They told me about that terrible explosion on a
yacht," Norberto said. "They thought I might be
needed to give the last sacraments. I came here so
I could be closer to the wharf."
"But you weren't," Adolfo said confidently. "No
one could have survived that explosion."
Norberto looked at him. "Do you know that for certain
because you
saw
the blast? Or is there another reason?"
Adolfo looked at him. He didn't like where this
conversation was heading. He put the mug down and dragged
the back of his hand across his mouth. "I really must get
going."
"Where?"
106 OP-CENTER
"I'm meeting friends tonight."
Norberto stepped over to his br
other. He put his
hands on Adolfo's shoulders and looked into his
eyes. Adolfo was very aware that his face was closed
to his brother, A blank mask.
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" Norberto
asked.
"About what?"
"About-anything," Norberto replied uneasily.
"About anything? Sure. I love you, Berto."
"That isn't what I meant."
"I know," Adolfo said. "And I know you,
Norberto. What's troubling you? Or should I
help you? You want to know what I was doing tonight? Is
that what this is about?"
"You've already said you were fishing," Norberto said.
"Why shouldn't I believe you?"
"Because you knew exactly what the explosion was and
yet you pretended not to," Adolfo said. "You
didn't come here to be closer to the sea, Berto. You
came here because you wanted to see if I was home.
All right. I wasn't. You also know that I wasn't
fishing."
Norberto said nothing. He removed his
hands from Adolfo's shoulders. His arms fell
heavily.
"You've always been able to see inside me,"
Adolfo said. "To know what I was thinking, feeling.
When I was a teenager I'd come back from a night
of whoring or cockfights and lie to you. I'd tell
you I was playing soccer or watching a movie. But you
always looked in my eyes and saw the truth, even
though you said nothing."
BALANCE OF POWER 107
"You were a boy then, Dolfo. Your activities were
a part of growing up. Now you're a man-was
"That's right, Norberto," Adolfo interrupted.
"I'm a man. One who barely has time for
cockfighting, let alone whoring. So you see,
brother, there's nothing to worry about."
Norberto stepped closer. "I'm looking in your
eyes again now. And I believe there
is
something to worry about."
"It's my worry, not yours."
"That isn't true," Norberto said. "We're
brothers. We share pain, we share secrets, we
share love. We always have. I want you to talk
to me, Dolfo. Please."
"About what? My activities? My beliefs?
My dreams?"
"All of it. Sit down. Tell me."
"I don't have time," Adolfo said.
" "Where your soul is concerned you must make the
time."
Adolfo regarded his brother for a moment. "I see.
And if I did have time would you be listening to me as a
brother or as a priest?"
"As Norberto," the priest replied gently. "I
can't separate who I am from what I am."
"Which means you would be my living conscience," Adolfo
said.
"I fear that that position may be open," Norberto
replied.
Adolfo looked at him a few seconds longer.
Then he turned away. "You really want to know what
I was doing tonight?"
108 OP-CENTER
"Yes. I do."
"Then I'll tell you," Adolfo said. "I'll
tell you because if anything happens I want you to know
why I have done what I've done." He turned
back and spoke in a low voice lest the neighbors
hear through the thin walls. "The
Catalonian men on the boat that sank,
Ramirez and the rest of them, planned and carried out the
execution of an American diplomat in
Madrid. In my pocket I have their taped
conversation about the murder." The cassette rattled as
he patted it through his sweater. "The tape is in
effect a confession, Norberto. My commander, the
General, was right about these men. They were the leaders of a
group that is attempting to bankrupt our nation in
order to take it over. They killed the diplomat
to make sure that the United States does not
become involved in their conquest of Spain."
"Politics do not interest me," Norberto said
quietly, "you know that."
"Perhaps they should," Adolfo replied. "The only
help that ever reaches the poor of this parish comes from
God and that doesn't put food on the table. It
isn't right."
"No, it isn't," the young priest agreed. "But
'Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of
Heaven." his
"That's true in your profession, not mine,"
Adolfo said angrily.
He went to go but Norberto grasped his arm. He
held it firmly. "I want you to tell
me, Adolfo. What part did you have in the killing?"
"What part did I have?" Adolfo said quietly.
"I
BALANCE OF POWER 109
did it," he blurted out. "I'm the one who
destroyed the yacht."
Norberto recoiled as though he'd been slapped.
"Millions of our people would have suffered had those
monsters lived," Adolfo said.
Norberto made the sign of the cross on his
forehead. "But they were men, Adolfo. Not monsters."
"They were ruthless, unfeeling
things,"
Adolfo snapped. He didn't expect his
brother to understand what he had done. Norberto was a
Jesuit, a member of the Society of Jesus.
For over five hundred years the order's adherents
had been trained to be soldiers of virtue,
to strengthen the faith of Catholics and to preach the
Gospel to non-Catholics.
"You are wrong." Norberto trembled as he
squeezed Adolfo's arm even tighter. "These
"things," as you call them, were people. People with immortal
souls created by God."
"Then you should thank me, brother, for I have
returned their immortal souls to God."
There were tears in the priest's eyes. "You take
too much on yourself. Only God has the right to take
a soul."
"I have to leave."
"And those millions you speak of," Norberto
continued, "their suffering would only have been in this world.
They would have known perfect happiness in the presence of
God. But you-you risk damnation for eternity."
" "Then pray for me, brother, for I intend
to continue my work."
'We, Adolfo! You mustn't."
110 OP-CENTER
Adolfo gently pulled away his brother's fingers.
He squeezed them lovingly before dropping them.
"At least let me hear your confession," Norberto
urged.
"Some other time," Adolfo replied.
"Some other time may be too late." Norberto's
voice, like his eyes, were now full of emotion. "You
know the punishment if you die unrepentant. You will be
estranged from God."
"God has forgotten me. Forgotten all of us."
"No!"
"I'm sorry," Adolfo said. The
fisherman looked away from his brother. He didn't
want to see the hurt in his kind eyes. And he
didn't want to face the fact that he'd caused it.
Not now. Not with so much left to do. He took another
swallow of stew and thanked his brother again for bringing
it. Then he pulled a cigarette from the crushed
pack in his pants pocket-his last, he noted
.
He'd have to stop and buy pre-mades. Lighting it,
he headed toward the door.
"Adolfo, please!" Norberto grabbed his
brother's shoulder and turned him around. "Stay here with
me. Talk to me. Pray with me."
"I have business up on the hill," he replied
evenly. "I promised the General I'd deliver
the taped conversation to the radio station there. They are
Castilians at the station. They will play the tape.
When they do, all the world will know that Catalonia has
no regard for life, Spanish or otherwise. The
government, the world will help end the financial
oppression they've forced on us."
" "And what will the world think of the Castilian who
BALANCE OF POWER 111
killed these men?" Norberto managed to lower his
voice on the word
killed
lest he be overheard. "Will they pray for your soul?"
"I don't want their prayers," Adolfo said
without hesitation. "I only want their attention. As
for what the world will think, I hope they'll think that I
had courage. That I didn't resort to shooting an
unarmed woman in the street to make a point. That
I went right to the heart of the devils" conspiracy and
cut that heart out."
"And when you have done that," Norberto said, "the
Catalonians will try to cut
your
heart out."
"They may try," Adolfo admitted. "Perhaps they
will even succeed."
" 'Then where does it end?"'" Norberto asked.
" "When every heart has been cut out or broken?"
"We didn't expect that one strike would end their
ambitions or that Castilian lives would not be
lost," Adolfo said. "As for when the bloodshed will
end, it should not be very long. By the time the
Catalonians and their allies mobilize it will be
too late to stop what is coming."
Norberto's broad shoulders slumped and he shook
his head slowly. The tears rolled easily from his
eyes. He suddenly seemed spent.
"Dear God, Dolfo," he sobbed. "What is
coming? Tell me, so that at least I can pray for your
soul."
Adolfo stared at his brother. He rarely saw
Norberto cry. It had happened once at their
mother's funeral and another time over a young parishioner
who was dying. It was difficult to see it and be
unmoved.
"I and my comrades are planning to give Spain
112 OP-CENTER
back to its Castilian people," Adolfo said. "After
a thousand years of repression, we intend to reunite
the body of Spain with its heart."
"There are other means with which to accomplish that goal,"
Norberto said. "Nonviolent means."
Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power Page 11
