City of God

by Paulo Lins

  The next morning, a plump sun in the sky, she went to the gate to chat with her neighbour after watering the plants:

  ‘That was close, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Ah … But God looks after his own, my friend!’

  ‘I reckon he smells somethin’. How many times has he come home like that without warnin’?’

  ‘Just once, when he had a pain here,’ she said, pointing at her arm, ‘and a friend brought him home.’

  ‘God gave you a helpin’ hand. If I hadn’t seen him at the supermarket, he would’ve busted you … If I was you, I’d wanna make sure.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Let’s go to my sister-in-law’s terreiro and have her call the pombagira for you.’

  They left after dinner. They’d have to do everything quickly, because her husband sometimes got home before five.

  ‘Ahh, pretty girl! I already know wot this earthly daughter wants to know … Just leave me a present at the crossroads, and the more ya go with the other guy, the more he’ll believe ya,’ the pombagira assured her, then cackled. ‘So the banana thing worked then, girl?’ continued the pombagira. ‘Feels good, don’t it? Here on earth the best thing is to fuck yerself silly. Since the one at home don’t do it nice, ya had to find it somewhere else, right girl?’ she cackled. ‘Buy everythin’ I tell ya to and leave it at the crossroads at midnight …’

  ‘But I can’t go out at ni …’

  ‘Just give me apprentice the brass and he’ll buy everythin’ and make the offerin’ fer ya,’ finished the pombagira, cackling and sprinkling cachaça over her.

  The next day, she waited less than half an hour after her husband had left for work and went after the fishmonger:

  ‘Let’s go to my place. Now I feel safe. We were unlucky yesterday.’

  At first the fishmonger protested, but after listening to her, he put her on the back of his bicycle and they took off for her place.

  The street was full of children playing games and women having their morning gossip. The northerner was not the least bit shy about walking into her front yard leading the fishmonger by the hand. After she had opened her front door, the fishmonger grabbed her by the arm and gave her a hot kiss. Eagerly he stroked her private parts and she followed suit. Her lover was already unbuttoning her blouse when he received the blow that knocked him to the ground.

  Before she could let out a cry of distress, she was gagged, then tied up and thrown into the hole her husband had dug the day before. He stabbed the fishmonger with his sharp fish knife and threw his body on top of his wife, who thrashed around in the bottom of the hole. He started covering them with earth. The gag came loose and she was about to cry out, but was stopped by a clod of earth that landed on her face. After covering them, the husband made a thick mixture of cement and black soil and threw it over the improvised grave. When the job was done, he grabbed his bag, checked his ticket and took off for his home state of Ceará, in the north.

  Cosme didn’t make it as far as the Eucalypt Grove. When he saw the fire truck parked in Block Fourteen he stopped and joined the other onlookers. He almost took off running when a police car arrived, its sirens wailing. When the fright wore off he thought about going closer, but instead he asked a young boy coming from the direction of the northerner’s house what had happened.

  ‘There’s two stiffs buried in that house there,’ said the boy, without stopping.

  Cosme thought it best to go home to bed and forget about selling coke and dope that creepy morning. He went back for his drugs and gun, then hurried home.

  * * *

  ‘Gotta talk to ya.’

  ‘Make it quick ’cos I’m runnin’ late.’

  ‘Well, girl, it’s like this: I’m nuts about you. Know what I mean? I’ve just woken up and I had heaps of dreams about you. I’ve been meanin’ to tell you for ages, but I haven’t had a chance …’

  ‘What’s this, my friend? What are you going on about? I don’t get it …’

  ‘I ain’t been able to get you off my mind for ages. Know what I mean? If yo leave Silva, I’ll be your fella.’

  ‘You gangsters’re all the same! My husband’s own pal’s got the nerve to come on to me!’

  ‘I don’t wanna stab him in the back. I really like the guy, you know. But my heart’s flipped for you. I’m gonna tell you something I’ve never told any girl, so you’ll trust me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I love you!’

  ‘I’m only gonna think about another man when Silva’s dead. While he’s alive, this body’s his. See ya!’ she finished, waving for the bus to stop.

  Cosme crossed Gabinal Road without taking his eyes off that hot black piece of arse. He watched her go through the turnstile with that cleavage of hers, which enchanted the conductor. He continued slowly along the edge of the road, down the stairs and through the blocks of flats with his eyes glued to the ground, his thoughts a jumble. He’d made a mistake. If she’d been interested everything would’ve been fine, but that heartless woman had been unmoved. What if she told Silva? He’d do him in for sure. This business of chatting up a friend’s wife and not screwing her was much worse because, whether he screwed her or not, the friendship was up shit creek. He felt like a dickhead, because there was no such thing as a difficult woman, but there were poor come-ons. He was so immersed in thought that his friend’s voice made him start.

  ‘What’s up, pal? Why ain’t the den up and running?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard? This morning was really freaky. The area was crawling with pigs. There were two more stiffs over in Fourteen. A kid told me, so I split fast. Hey, let’s go have a smoke over on The Hill, then we can open the den.’

  Over on The Hill, Silva cut the rolling paper while Cosme broke up the heads. Silva scrutinised one of the haunted mansions. He was about to suggest to his friend that they change the location of the den, but he never got to say a thing, because a bullet from Cosme’s gun pierced his left lung. The other ripped through his heart. The third entered the forearm of his already lifeless body. The murderer picked up the keys and took the gun from his friend’s waistband. He was sorry for wasting his friend, but if he hadn’t, he’d have been the one to die. He glanced around, went down the right side of The Hill, threw himself into the river, deliberately scratching his body, then ran to where he could find a friend.

  ‘What’s goin’ on?’ asked Flip-Flop when he saw the murderer in tattered clothes.

  ‘I was up on The Hill smokin’ a joint with Silva, when the cops showed up out of the blue … More than five pigs, I had to run for it …’

  ‘What about Silva?’

  ‘He went the other way. I don’t even know if he made it, you know. All I heard was loads of gunshots.’ He imitated the sound of the shots. ‘Look, man. I’m getting off the street ’cos it’s givin’ me the creeps, know what I’m sayin’?’

  While Cosme showered, he tried to think of a way for only Fernanda to know the truth. He’d already made plans to run away with her, have a load of kids and get a sucker’s job. The crime he’d just committed didn’t weigh on his conscience; it was bound to happen sooner or later. He was tired of seeing Fernanda asking Silva to give up that life and Silva not giving a damn. He’d often seen his friend leave his wife at home to hang around playing cards on street corners, smoke dope on the stairs of the blocks of flats and every now and then screw some slut he’d picked up in the night. If it were him, he wouldn’t swap Fernanda for any woman. He’d give up his life of crime right then and there. He knew how to lay a brick, build foundations and put up a wall. It wouldn’t be difficult to find a job. He shaved carefully under the shower, slicked his hair back and headed for the flat of the woman he loved. When she found out he’d killed Silva just to be with her, she’d fall into his arms.

  He turned the entire flat upside down looking for drugs and ammunition – he’d give it all to Flip-Flop, who could do whatever he wanted with it. He’d tell his friends he’d have to stay clear of the estate for a whi
le because he’d heard the pigs shouting his name when the shit hit the fan. He put what he found in a plastic bag. He half-tidied the mess he’d made, lit a joint and sat on the living-room floor to wait.

  Fernanda arrived at three in the morning. She greeted him half-heartedly and went through the flat looking for her husband.

  ‘What’s up? Ain’t Silva here?’

  ‘Nope. He’s nipped over to Red Hill to see if he can find someone to sell us some stuff. He’ll be back soon … What about what I said to you? I’m not fuckin’ around. If you stick with me, I promise I’ll get a job. We can get the hell out of here and have a nice life – I’m not bullshittin’ you. I wanna have heaps of kids with you. C’mon! Ogum’ll protect us!’ said Cosme with tears in his eyes.

  Seeing his sincerity, Fernanda sat on the sofa, threw her bag to one side and took off her sandals. Her silence showed she was reflecting deeply on the proposal. After a few seconds, she said:

  ‘I know you’re serious. I’ve seen it all in your eyes for ages, but here’s the story: Silva’s my man. It’s no use, this is where he lives.’ She thumped her chest. ‘I’ve felt like leavin’ him a whole lot of times, but when push comes to shove I don’t have the guts. I guess that’s true love …’

  ‘But he doesn’t give a damn about you … He screws all them sluts downstairs. When he’s pissed off, he smacks you around for no reason. I’ll give you a life where no one’ll be cleanin’ guns before going to bed, heatin’ up ammunition in the oven, killin’ people, havin’ shootouts with the cops … I’m ready to get a sucker’s job. I don’t want a life of cards, bundles of dope and wraps of coke … I swear by this light that shines on us, by the strength of Ogum, that you won’t go without a thing. I’ll put rice and beans on the table with the sweat off my own back … I’ve prayed to Oxalá so many times for him to kill this thing I feel for you.’ The tears started gushing. ‘Give me a chance in this life!’

  ‘But I don’t feel anything for you. Silva’s my man … I like the way he walks, his voice … The way he touches me, the way he asks for things …’

  ‘Look, I’m gonna tell you somethin’, but you can’t tell anyone, ’cos I only did it for you.’

  ‘What is it, man?’

  ‘I pulled the trigger on Silva just to be with you. You said yourself you’d only have someone else if he was gone!’ said Cosme.

  Fernanda went quiet. She lowered her head, then leaned back on the sofa and looked Cosme straight in the eye.

  ‘OK! Now I believe you! Let’s get out of here.’

  In less than an hour they had packed and left, never to return.

  Only Silva’s closest friends and family members went to his funeral, as everyone already knew about and disapproved of the crime he’d committed that Saturday.

  The man he’d killed had been loved by all: he’d been friendly with the kids, made kites for them, respected everyone, and had paraded with the Gávea Apprentices carnival group ever since he was a boy. Everyone who had come from the favela Parque Proletário considered him a friend. He was welcome for dinner at everyone’s house and was always doing people favours. It was true that he had a few screws loose, took too many liberties, was sometimes rude, and did his small-time jobs, but he was incapable of killing anyone. He’d always said that if a victim tried to resist he’d take off running, but he wouldn’t kill a sucker. At the wake, his mother was consoled by friends. They said the murderer would also die soon, because her son had fallen face down.

  Some of the cool guys had told Silva a few hours before Cosme killed him that he’d screwed up, because killing someone over coke was for old-time gangsters who weren’t with it. Silva tried to explain himself, claiming the guy had stolen his stash of dope.

  ‘Bullshit! You killed the guy for nothin’. I saw the copper find your stash with my own eyes, man!’ said Jap, one of the cool guys, harshly.

  Silva went quiet. He knew Jap was telling the truth. The cool guys stared at him for a while. Their silence told him he’d lost their respect. That was when it really hit home that he’d fucked up. His body’s deep shudders betrayed his agitated soul. And worst of all, that damn intruder had fallen face down. He decided to go to ground. He got up from the curb awkwardly and was walking slowly home when he ran into his pal and was done in.

  ‘Squirt knocked off three in that job he did over in Taquara and landed himself a wad of notes – all five hundred cruzeiros and up … We’d already rustled up a decent amount and headed off, but when we were goin’ down this dodgy little street, he told us to stop the car and get out … He went alone, did the place and got lucky … Now he’s started goin’ out alone and comin’ back loaded with dough sayin’ he’s killed two or three in one go. He’s actin’ really weird. Every Monday he disappears and no one can find him. People’re sayin’ he’s gone nuts … He goes around sayin’ he’s hot shit. He’s made Boss of Us All run for it heaps of times and he doesn’t even split when he’s in a shootout with the Civil Police. You should’ve seen it: Boss of Us All and Iran were comin’ up Main Street and they hadn’t even seen him, and he was over at Tom Joe’s Bar havin’ a cold one. When he saw the pigs, he crossed the street and told them to go get fucked, and he didn’t even touch his shooter. Then they started takin’ pops at him but not one bullet got him! Then he opened fire on them. They ran for their lives and he just stood there laughin’,’ Hammer told Cleide a month after Silva’s death, as they were going to bed.

  ‘Stop hangin’ around with him … You’ll get yourself in trouble for nothin’ and end up in the shit … I wish you’d give up this gang business. Every time you go out on a job I shit myself … Let’s get out of here before it’s too late … You could get killed just like that …’

  ‘Watch your mouth! Touch wood! You know I don’t take risks. You’re wastin’ your breath!’ said Hammer, and rolled over to show his wife that her predictions had irritated him.

  They fell silent, but Hammer remembered the bullets that had already whistled past his ears, the times he had almost got killed during getaways. He really was scared of kicking the bucket – but get a sucker’s job on a construction site? Never. This business of packed lunches and catching crowded buses to be treated like a dog by the boss – no way, not that. He remembered when he had worked on construction sites in Barra da Tijuca. The engineer always arrived after dinner with a hot chick in his car and didn’t even say hi to the labourers. He’d go around yelling his head off at everyone just to show off in front of her, and the dickhead foreman, just because he earned a bit more, was always sucking up to the bastard. He’d stick with crime and would never play into the hands of the pigs. He had to hit the jackpot so he could buy a bit of land in the countryside and spend the rest of his life raising chickens without a worry in the world. Squirt was taking being a gangster too seriously; for him, that was all there was to life. All this shit of donning the Devil’s cloak was a load of balls. Though he did look like he had the Beast in his body … And what about his eyes? They gave him the creeps. A crazy man’s eyes … Hammer’s thoughts had almost faded into sleep when Cleide straddled him, rubbed herself against him hard and whispered in his ear:

  ‘Let’s not fight! I only say these things ’cos I love ya.’

  They lost themselves in one another until night ran into morning.

  Squirt woke up early that Monday. He wanted to send a soul off to the Beast fast, then take it easy at the beach. He hid behind a bin near the Leão supermarket. He was waiting for someone well-dressed to go past so he could rustle up a watch or a bit of loose change. He looked around; he wanted to get to the beach before the ten o’clock kickabout. Only badly dressed suckers went past. He was impatient; he’d kill the first one he saw. He didn’t need money but, since he had to kill someone, there was no harm in getting himself a bit of cash. He approached an elderly man who was walking along briskly. He didn’t see Hellraiser running towards him.

  ‘Take everythin’ in your pocket, stick it in my hand and lie on the ground
,’ he said with his gun pointed at his victim.

  Hellraiser ran to try and stop the crime. The policy of keeping the area clean had to be respected so the pigs would stop breathing down their necks. The police were always showing up. Even the Federal Police had been doing a few raids. Hellraiser asked him to let the man go. Squirt turned to look at his friend for a second, shook his head, then pumped the man’s body full of lead. He took seven steps backwards, reciting a prayer which Hellraiser didn’t understand. He stuck his gun in his waistband and took off down Main Street without saying a thing to his friend. He bought a packet of cigarettes at Batman’s Bar and pitched in with Acerola and Green Eyes to buy some dope, but didn’t wait for Green Eyes to come back with the weed. He took a taxi to the beach.

  He didn’t dare enter the cold water; after the game of football he climbed onto the rocks of the groyne, letting his thoughts roam. He saw a couple playing around in the water and thought about sex. He swore to himself that that night he was going to have a sexy chick from up north he’d had an eye on for ages. He left after two hours. He had a bite to eat at a bar by the canal in Barra da Tijuca. After another game of footy, he went home, smoked a joint, showered and fell asleep.

  At around 10 p.m. he woke up, got dressed, got his gun and left for the woman’s place. He got into the house without any problems and her husband didn’t fight when he saw his cocked gun. Squirt ordered him out. The man tried to argue and got a bullet in his foot. The woman didn’t offer any resistance, nor did she cry out when he had anal sex with her. Squirt thought she was feeling real pleasure and imagined she was really coming. He left after an hour.

  The husband stumbled to the house of a friend, who took him to hospital. But he didn’t spend the night resting as the doctor had recommended. He wanted to leave immediately, but he had nowhere to go. He’d have to save some money to return to his home state of Paraíba. He cried on his way home.