by Gus Leodas
Dinner consumed two hours as they talked happier times, and New York. The parrilla kept their food warm throughout. Carlos drifted into the conversation although both aware tonight wasn’t for him or sadness. Yet, happy memories evoked sadness for both. They dissolved into one another’s thoughts catching up and drawing closer.
Pilar asked why he never settled down and he extolled the advantages of a happy active bachelor; honest to say he had a woman in an apartment in Buenos Aires he saw regularly plus those who ventured into his lair, enjoying the freedom of variety.
“If you speak to them romantically like your poems, they’ll be lying at your feet. I mean laying!” She laughed hard.
“They do.”
Their humor kneaded closeness. Dinner ended. So did champagne and cordials.
“All right, Cinderella, where to now?”
“Let’s go dancing, to the king’s ball! I overate and need a walk first.”
The hour approached one o’clock in Buenos Aires, a city for night people. Sidewalks were crowded as they strolled to a nightclub converted from a former bank building. A floorshow progressed as Tomayo’s large tip produced an intimate table. The show consisted of dancers doing tangos and boleros in their colorful costumes and a twelve-piece orchestra. They ordered more champagne.
After the show, they danced for twenty minutes to rhythms that kept them at moderate distance. Pilar was an excellent dancer; the outgrowth of dance lessons as a child; Tomayo, an appropriate partner. The orchestra segued to a rumba. Pilar danced closer to him.
The floor filled. They swayed cheek-to-cheek. It felt good to hold him close – no words, swaying, oblivious to couples bumping against them. Tomayo embraced her, his long arms wrapping.
For Pilar, the feeling held by a man again swept through her. She inhaled and savored the reawakened feeling. The effect soothed and comforted and she found herself pressing closer against him letting the feeling float within and resting her head on his shoulder. The final chord came and she kissed his cheek. The act surprised her because she disapproved public displays of affection. He smiled. They applauded the musicians, returned to the table and stayed until four o’clock and another show.
Strolling to the car Tomayo enveloped her to cut night chill.
“Well, Pilar. How was your maiden voyage?”
“Outstanding. I forgot what living felt like.”
During the quiet drive home, Pilar’s head rested on Tomayo’s shoulder. He raised his arm to make her comfortable and to bring her closer.
“Tired?” he whispered.
Her eyes stayed closed.
“The champagne works on you.” She felt herself drifting and sat up. “Where are we now?”
“In a second we’ll reach your driveway.”
A door attendant left his wooden chair from inside the lobby. Tomayo parked by the entrance. Pilar waved the attendant away. He returned to his chair.
She leaned left and kissed Tomayo on the cheek.
“When are you going to take me out again?”
“How about every night?”
“What’ll happen to all your girl friends if you do that?” Her fingers rubbed his chin.
“I don’t have to tell you I want only you.”
“I know that, Tomayo. Be a friend now, what I need most.”
“I understand, unfortunately.”
“Come up for coffee. You have a long drive home.”
“No. Instead, I’ll close all the windows and savor your lingering fragrance.”
“Whew! What a line. No wonder you have a menagerie of women.”
“As for tomorrow night, how about an early dinner. We can take the kids.”
“You’re on but no kids.”
She opened the door then turned to him.
“Don’t forget to close the windows.” She winked and left.
Tomayo watched Pilar until she vanished. How he wished it possible to love her tonight to relieve his yearning. She had to make the first gesture, if any, to continue to choreograph her needs, and timing.
P.S. – If you recall, I was as considerate to Laura when we first met in Washington.
Pilar stirred and opened her eyes at one o’clock in the afternoon. Esmeralda watched the children in the backyard playground as they rediscovered friends. Andres played soccer or futbol with seven boys. Pilar checked on them from the back balcony.
Her parched throat had alcohol aftereffects. She quenched dryness with orange juice before brushing her teeth and showering. Cold water revitalized and refreshed. Tomayo dominated thoughts; being with him felt wonderful. Dancing and closeness vanished when the doom-and-gloom conversation came as a nagging reminder the evening had unpleasantness. Pilar stared motionless with the negative impact as water beat on her; eyes wide and mind mesmerized envisioning a disastrous future for her children and Argentina.
Steinerman’s impact on her uncle and military progress and inroads burdened her that afternoon. Pilar grew incensed and outraged. Suppressing an instinct to call her uncle on his private line was difficult. Another thought suggested they speak in person. The importance warranted a personal, private confrontation. When the internal discussion ended, she discovered the phone in her hand. She called Tomayo.
“Hi. I want to thank you again for last night. Wonderful being with you.”
“You’re thinking is perfect.”
“Secondly, I want to meet Senator What’s-his-name?”
“Senator Federico Luis Quintero. Why?”
“I did nothing all afternoon but get nauseous thinking about Steinerman. I want to meet Quintero before I talk to Uncle Rafael. Can you arrange a meeting?”
“Yes. It must be a secret meeting making sure we aren’t followed and no one knows except Alejandro.”
“What does he do for you?”
“He’s a member of our group, a former security agent assigned to us for the time being. Confide in him if a need arises.”
“Try to meet tonight.”
“If not I’ll try for tomorrow. We’re involved in a deadly game. They ignore me because I’m considered ineffective to hurt them. You’re in danger if they consider you a weapon against them.”
“I know. Hold on a minute.”
She put the phone down and peeked out the window. The gray Mercedes parked across the street with an occupant.
“The car that followed to the cemetery is across the street.”
“Steinerman needs to know your movements. When we know where they are, we can handle them. I’ll call Quintero and call you back.”
Pilar returned to the window and parted the curtains in time to see a man exiting the Mercedes. He crossed the street heading for the rear of the building. Pilar rushed to the rear balcony. She saw him coming around the corner, stop near a palm tree, and survey the playground. He then turned and left.
Pilar reached a frightening conclusion that the children could face danger. Why did the man go back there? She answered her own question by concluding he monitored their presence – they were home.
The phone rang. She answered. Click. She looked puzzled for a moment then the answer came; the man checked on her. The phone rang again. Tomayo.
“We’re on for tonight at eight, tell you where later, be ready at six to give us time for evasive tactics if they follow.”
“I’ll wait in the lobby.”
“Wear comfortable running shoes.”
“We’re running to this meeting?” she kidded.
“We’ll need them in town.”
The blue Cadillac was prompt. Tomayo followed the same route as last night towards central Buenos Aires. The gray Mercedes followed about one hundred yards behind and farther back a green Mercedes followed. Tomayo spotted his convoy in the mirror.
“We have two cars following us.”
Pilar already looked out the rear window and noticed.
“Where we going?” she asked.
“First to the city to lose them in the crowd then we switch to a minibus. After
safely on our way, I’ll tell you our destination.”
“Clever.”
Sky was blue and white, day a diminishing bright as the sun followed its monotonous mission westward across the pampas to the distant Andes. The blue, gray, and green caravan drove on.
Reaching the central area, Tomayo parked by Plaza San Martin. They crossed the landscaped park to Calle Florida. Pilar and Tomayo strolled to signal a romantic impression to their stalkers. Pilar held him by the elbow bend.
Calle Florida is the main shopping street in Buenos Aires; concentrated with stores, and open to pedestrians at that hour; a beach of people like a summer day, noisy, and crowded. They weaved slow avoiding contact. It seemed everyone walked with heads turned towards shop windows. The stalkers stayed about fifty yards behind at times straining necks over the crowd to spot their prey.
The prey stopped on occasion to look in windows. Tomayo could see them in his periphery, lurking in the background. They passed streets Paraguay and Cordoba then Viamonte. They neared Tucuman.
“Pilar, when we reach the corner look right. A black and white Volkswagen bus with side panel open and motor running is waiting. Get in without delay.” They continued strolling to the corner. “Okay, Pilar, when I say ‘now’ let go and run.” They reached and turned the corner. “Now!”
They bolted as runners at the starting line of a track event. Alejandro saw them. Pilar scrambled in first and Tomayo closed the side door as he entered. Alejandro entered traffic flow without being conspicuous and before seen by the stalkers.
“Can you see them, Alejandro?” Tomayo said.
“Stay down. They’re on the corner confused.” He glanced again in the mirror. “Now they’re running this way but don’t know where to look. Now they’re looking in stores as they run by.” For insurance, he made a right on Suipacha then a left on Cordoba. “It’s safe now,” he assured.
“Not bad guys. Not bad,” Pilar said. They sat in the bus type seats. “Where are we going?”
Tomayo responded. “To the Cathedral at Lujan. The priest is a trusted friend. Father Antonio is also concerned about our country’s future and direction. He’s allowing us to use his office.”
In forty miles, they would reach the Cathedral at Lujan, a famous shrine, a massive gothic architectural structure with towering twin spires. Close to eight o’clock, they entered through the first of three front doors, a service in progress. The congregation filled one-third of the pews. An organ caromed throughout sacred walls as a choir hummed.
The three hastened along the outside left aisle and through a door leading to the backstairs and second floor. A man named Olivero, known to Tomayo and Alejandro, told Tomayo the Senator waited. Pilar and Tomayo entered the office. Alejandro stood guard at the other stairway.
Senator Quintero was medium sized, fifty-four with adequate black hair amidst graying. He looked official and dignified in his dark suit, dark tie, and white shirt. Quintero and Tomayo shook hands. He smiled at Pilar.
“I am honored to meet you at last.”
“Thank you, Senator.”
“I appreciate this timely meeting. When Tomayo mentioned you initiated the meeting, I had planned to ask Tomayo if you would meet with me, waiting until you settled with the children.”
Pilar sat on a black leather sofa crossing her legs. Senator Quintero sat opposite her. Tomayo brought a chair from a corner.
“As I said, Federico, I told Pilar about the President and Steinerman. Needless to say she found the situation distressing.”
“Mrs. deLorenzo, may I suggest you call me Federico?”
“And please call me Pilar. Federico, why should I trust you?” The question surprised Federico.
“Where should I begin?”
“Are you a violent man?”
“In what sense? To what degree?”
“Will you consider a civil war to stop the Germans and overthrow my uncle?”
“If it means saving Argentina, yes, I am a violent man. To date, all our efforts have been nonviolent. We tried to reach your uncle. He and I were good friends. I can’t get through to him. Even with the influence I have in Congress, I am unsuccessful. When I’m with Rafael, Steinerman or his other cohort, a general and military advisor are there. It’s difficult to discuss matters with him. He’s a good man your uncle. We prefer to support him. I believe he thinks his actions are in Argentina’s best interests. It’s impractical for him to know what’s going on secretly around the country.
“Hearing you returned, I thought of meeting with you since you have access to your uncle. Pilar, you represent hope for Argentina. We need to explore every avenue available. Failing, then we will consider violence.”
“Civil war?”
“Yes, and hope we aren’t late before they build their new so-called invincible army. We figure another year before they’re ready. Again if our peaceful methods fail for another two months then we must act.”
“Can you stage an uprising that fast?”
“We could be ready within six months. We will take another course before the people get involved and the slaughter begins again. And it comes constant like the change in seasons.” He shook his head sadly.
“What is that course?”
Federico looked at Pilar in a manner that lent drama to his coming statement.
“The assassination of President Rafael deLorenzo.”
Pilar absorbed his statement without emotion or movement. She predetermined to act serious and business-like tonight, unemotional. She looked at Tomayo. He nodded to confirm the statement.
Silence.
“You are a violent man, Federico, but under the circumstances justifiably so. I have never advocated violence or been violent towards anyone. For our country, for my children, for peace, for human rights I could turn violent. Every president or head of Argentina promised peace, prosperity, civil rights, and the pursuit of happiness. Like an American president who promised a chicken in every pot, they all promise utopia in every home and province. Federico, what’s going to make you different if elected after a successful assassination and failing that a successful civil war?”
“Are you asking for guarantees other than my saying to you my goals like Tomayo’s are based on democratic principles under the guidance of the American Constitution and the Bill of Rights? We’re drafting a similar constitution that will prevent anyone, and me, ever again from usurping power and authority, the foundation for stability. When a draft is finished within the next few weeks, I will hold a congressional forum to highlight the current abuses. The process may take months of debate and discussion. We suspect Steinerman will try to undermine it with terrorism, murders, and more disappearances and more jailing. Pilar, to answer your question I lead the fight to prevent anyone from violating the people’s trust.”
Pilar digested his statement. “The danger then is not Tomayo or the group’s imagination?”
“It’s not. When you speak to your uncle, he will think fiction. Rafael is blinded to what’s going on beneath the surface.”
“Federico, I will talk to my uncle. Tomayo, did you mention I’d be with him this weekend?”
“Yes. Federico knows.”
“I should have ample opportunity to talk and stimulate him enough to conduct an investigation.”
“He must hold open and free elections and appoint a vice-president without further delay.” Federico’s tone beseeched. “If he can do that I’m positive with our support he’ll win the next election.”
“If Tomayo, who’ll come out Sunday, and I are unable to persuade him and I’m unsuccessful after a week then I’ll give you both his private phone number. I must be sure Uncle Rafael has no reason to distrust me. If I fail, you should call him. Federico, you persuaded me. We’ll keep you informed of our progress.”
Tomayo and Federico exchanged glances that suggested mutual and additional knowledge. The meeting needed to continue.
Tomayo sat next to Pilar and clasped her hand.
“Pilar,
we have one more subject. I should have told you last night. Knowledge you and Uncle Rafael must know.”
Pilar looked at Federico.
He stiffened, eyes looking beyond her.
A hollow feeling overtook Pilar when she looked at Tomayo’s sullen face.
The air turned frightful, heavy.
The pall made her hesitant, reluctant to hear the horrible lurking beyond the sinister horizon.
“What…knowledge?”
“Pilar,” Tomayo looked sadly into eyes straining for an answer. “We have reason to believe Carlos was murdered.”
His words struck the same trauma when first hearing of Carlos’s death; then it was a shrieking scream, a punishing and painful lightning bolt traumatizing for days.
Tomayo’s words rumbled as an earthquake.
Tomayo felt the tremor through her hand; her fingers tightening; gripping. With the other hand, she reacted late to cover the gasp that escaped to jostle her body to widen a horrifying expression in her eyes.
The business composure brought with her to meet Federico vanished without constraint or pretense. Trauma receded leaving her limp with a residue of tears.
“I’m sorry Pilar. There was no easy way to tell you.”
She nodded her lowered head and reached for her purse and tissues. Federico stood, walked to the desk, and rested against its edge. Then with a strange eerie note of coincidence, church bells pealed at the other end. Once. Twice. A third time and stopped then another series of three.
Pilar dabbed her eyes and nose. Tomayo wanted to comfort her to kiss the tears away, to offer refuge from distress.
Pilar heaved breath to settle then looked at them saying, “I want you both to promise me that my children will never know. Their father died a hero, how I want him remembered. I don’t know how you know this but I believe you.”
Tomayo replied in a tone to complement hers, “They’ll never know. We know because an eyewitness, one of Carlos’s men, told me several months ago. He saw him shot by German officers, and afraid to report it to authorities at the time. It’s logical. Steinerman could never serve as senior advisor with Carlos around.”
