And there was the connection with his friend Jacinto. He had been buying, at a knockdown price, the cattle the paramilitaries had confiscated from other farms. Then, when Jacinto had become a major auto repair shop owner—with his shops—he had become the one who fixed the cars for them, cleaning off the blood and human remains. After every job Dagoberto handed the vehicles over to Jacinto and he handed them back as good as new, repainted, and with new plates. Jacinto never invoiced him, but in the accounts there were all the payments to his shop, each with a description: Toyota van, seven bullet holes and traces of bodies. Fixing, repainting, and cleaning of traces. 1,500,000 pesos to Jacinto, or Chevrolet Suburban after Operation Mayor of Fresno. Chassis cleaned and repainted. 1,200,000 pesos. Jacinto. And there was a file of more than a hundred and twenty pages, with invoices attached, which demonstrated that the cocaine was cut on Jacinto’s farm!
Another file detailed the cleansing operations by area, such as: 32 executed by Hernán Mora in Operation Lejanías. Buried in seven pits, cut up, does not count as massacre. List: followed by the names and the approximate ages. This Hernán was the brother of Soraya, so they were all there. The only one missing was Soraya, how could he take his revenge on her? It was Soraya he felt angriest at because nobody had forced her, she had done it even though she loved him. The photographs of her and Jacinto in the motel and the fact that she had married him, even though he would never have asked her mother for her hand: all that was more than sufficient proof that she was involved in the thing right from the start. All of them had been against him, and what had he done to them? Nothing, nothing. He had loved her, and he had loved Jacinto, who had been his friend since they were children. They had paid him back for that love and friendship with death and ruin. As he thought this, his breathing grew heavier and hatred filled his bloodstream, giving him even more strength. He would destroy them, that was clear.
And he was going to start with her.
He copied all the photographs in which she was with him, naked, and even with Jacinto, and erased the faces, leaving only her face. He chose five in which she was seen on all fours and with her face turned towards the camera, and two in which she was sucking Jacinto’s cock. Then he e-mailed them to the town hall of La Cascada, the Community Center, the kindergarten her daughter Gloria Soraya attended, the restaurant Luna Roja, the bar El Feliz, and Jacinto’s auto repair shops. Also to the Häagen-Dazs ice cream parlor and the Escrúpulos tearooms, where she spent her afternoons. Also to the people of the El Paraíso residential community, wherever he could find the addresses. Everybody and everything with a more or less public e-mail address in La Cascada received the photographs, and to make it even worse, he opened an account on Facebook in her name and added the rest of the photographs from the computer, including those of Jacinto with other women so that he could see it and know he had been found out. This Facebook idea was a brilliant one, he thought, which he could also use for Dagoberto. But he preferred to wait and see the reactions. His idea was to hand over the computer to the Public Prosecutor’s Office or the newspapers or the Human Rights Commission and that was why he decided to stay a little longer in Bogotá.
After five days he moved to the Hotel Charleston, on Calle 85 near Carrera 15. He was so nervous, he found it impossible to leave the hotel, even for a short walk; all the same, he did go a couple of times to have a drink in the Zona Rosa and walk around the Centro Andino. Finally, after three days, he received a message on Facebook that said:
Let’s see if you’re brave enough to come out and show your face, you son of a bitch, do you have something against my family or what? We’re already on your trail and we’ll soon find out where you got all those fucking photographs that you’ve been putting on the Internet. We’re going to cut your balls off and eat them fried, with chopped onions, you bastard.
The message was not signed but was obviously from Jacinto. It came from a Facebook account called The Executioner. So Ramón decided to have a bit of fun and replied: “Your wife is indeed a very elegant woman, what nobody can understand is what she’s doing with a para.” He waited nervously and that same night the answer came: “Son of a bitch, you’re still hiding, feeling pleased with yourself, but you’ll see, we’re on your trail, we may be coming for you right now, as you read this, so start shaking.”
The next day he made copies of the computer’s hard disk and went to the Human Rights Commission. There, he had to identify himself and they listened to his story. A lawyer from the Commission went with him to the Public Prosecutor’s Office to lodge a major complaint against Dagoberto, Hernán Mora, and Jacinto Gómez for kidnapping, torture, extortion, and theft. He handed over a copy of the hard disk and the prosecutors immediately started running and making calls. Ramón realized that his days as a fugitive were over, that he had to regain his true identity now, go back to being Ramón Melo García. It was the only way he could accomplish his revenge.
After a long statement in the Public Prosecutor’s Office about how he had gotten hold of the computer, Ramón was able to return to his hotel. It was late by now, but he had the feeling that he had achieved something. The next day he called the political desk at El Espectador and announced that he had information about paramilitarism in the eastern Plains. Somebody came to pick up a copy and that same night he was able to return to Panama City.
When he got home, he said to himself: the die is cast, now the one thing I have to do is make sure they don’t kill me, or don’t find me so easily. Dagoberto was confined to a high security prison at Cómbita, but many of his men were still on the outside, doing all they could to get him out as quickly and cheaply as possible. He did not know if Hernán Mora was also being detained.
A week later, El Espectador splashed all over its pages a lengthy article accusing Dagoberto, with photographs of the torture house in Lejanías, and information on the mass graves and the laboratories that were still functioning. There were also charges against a whole series of elected members of the senate who had been friendly with Dagoberto, and had received votes and money from him.
Ramón had not even known about that, as he had not checked the whole of the hard disk. The article quoted sources within the Public Prosecutor’s Office and the Human Rights Commission, which were investigating and had asked the National Institute for Prisons to separate Dagoberto from the other demobilized paras, since in his case there were enough elements to bring more serious charges.
Less than a week later El Espectador reported the arrest of Hernán Mora and Jacinto Gómez, both accused of paramilitary activity in the region. The traitor Arnulfo Solano, his trusted former employee, was also detained, although on lesser charges. Everything came from the same computer, and Ramón felt a light inside him. He knew it was not good to take pleasure from hatred and revenge, but he had not been the one who had started all this. Then he wondered if now might be the time to take the step he so much desired, and decided it was. Now that his identity was obvious, he could make a frontal attack.
He took out his cell phone and looked at it for quite a while. Then he put it back in his pocket and took a good swig of aguardiente to give himself courage. Maybe the number had changed? Finally he dialed, with his heart standing still, and heard the rings. One, two, three . . . At the fifth ring the automatic message came on and he hung up. He went out on the balcony and drank another aguardiente, and was standing there looking at the bay, lost in thought, when the cell phone started ringing. He looked at the screen and froze. It was Soraya. Hello? There was a silence, it was her, she had recognized him. He hung up. Again unsure what to do, he waited. He imagined Soraya with the telephone in her hand, cursing or crying, he could not know which. The voice was the same, with a slight quiver because of the years; he remembered her husky tone, which had always sounded both erotic and comforting. But now everything was different: she had given him up to the paras! Nothing could make up for that. There was no excuse, and apart from that there was the fact of his mother’s death.
He checked the Facebook address and found a message from Jacinto from four days earlier, before his arrest, which said: “We know who you are and we’re going to kill you, you son of a bitch, wait and see.” He reread the text with a smile and thought, this bastard doesn’t know a damn thing, he has no idea what’s in store for him. The fool.
An hour later his cell phone rang again and he made up his mind to answer. It was her. Was it you who took those pictures? was the first thing she asked, but instead of answering that, he said, were you in on their plan to kill me? There was a silence; then she said, they told me you were in the FARC and wanted to kill my brother. That’s nonsense, how could you believe such garbage? The thing is, Soraya, you were cheating on me with Jacinto and any excuse would have been all right. She was unable to respond immediately. She thought about it for a second and said: it’s your fault, Ramón, I told you to ask for my hand and you did nothing, just waited and waited, and when you wait too long the soup gets cold, doesn’t it? Oh, Soraya, you don’t kill a person for that, the fact of it is, you knew they were going to kill me and you didn’t care, and later my mother died because you didn’t even go to see her; she died of sadness, or rather, you all killed her; you killed her, Soraya; so don’t ask me to respect you or understand you, the only thing I want is to see you crawling on the floor, because you’re a bitch, a cheat, a traitor, and a murderer.
There were sobs, but his anger did not abate: You cry now that my mother’s dead and they took away my life’s work and almost killed me, and all because of you, so go on, cry until the blood comes out of your eyes. There was another silence, then she said: I’m already weeping blood, Ramón, you can say whatever you like to me, you can even tell me I’m a whore, you haven’t said it yet but you’re thinking it, so say it, filthy whore, lowdown whore, don’t hesitate to say it because it’s true, it’s what everyone is saying here in La Cascada since you came out with those photographs . . . The whole town has seen me naked with a guy they don’t even know is my husband, and with you, but as nobody remembers you they think it’s somebody new, and so I’ve become the whore of the community, the whore of the club and the tearooms, the whore of La Cascada, and now they’ve put Jacinto in jail and things are really difficult. I already threw him out of the house because of the photographs on Facebook with other whores who aren’t his whore of a wife, oh God.
Ramón was getting impatient and said: tell me why you slept with Jacinto, what were you missing with me? I missed the risk, Ramón, I missed that great sensation of hanging from a thread . . . I missed feeling more of a woman or more of a person or maybe even more of a whore, I don’t know, I liked him and I wanted him and you see, I even gave him a daughter who maybe he didn’t deserve, but what can we do, that’s how it was, we can’t change it.
No, but we can make sure the bad people appear bad and the murderers appear murderers, and that’s what I came to do, Soraya; the worst that could have happened to you, to all of you, was that I escaped from the paras and stayed alive, because now you’re fucked. Soraya had stopped crying, her voice was neutral and relatively steady. She said: and what more are you going to do, they’re already going to take everything away from us, they’re going to extradite Dagoberto, and they’re going to give my brother Hernán the maximum sentence because the bastard didn’t get involved with the demobilization, so you see, Ramón, you’ve ruined our lives, you’ve already avenged yourself, you’ve already avenged your mother, what more do you want? Ramón thought it over for a second and said, I want to see you, Soraya, that’s all, I want to see you for a second and maybe my anger will pass.
The proposal surprised her. And why do you want to see me, Ramón? A lot of time’s gone by and I’m fat, when I was pregnant I gained nearly sixty pounds and I still have twenty I can’t get rid of, I don’t look like the girl you used to go out with anymore, don’t think I do. But he said, that doesn’t matter, Soraya, I only want to see you for a second and look you in the face and ask you if you really wanted them to kill me . . . You don’t need to look at me to ask that, I already told you, they told me you were in the FARC and were going to kill Hernán. You can believe me or not. To believe you I need to see you, Soraya, that’s why I’m saying this. She thought about it for a while: if we see each other, will you leave us alone? Well, Soraya, that’s not up to me anymore, it’s up to the law. Yes, but the law can be handled, what matters is that you stop stirring things.
Come to Bogotá on Saturday, Soraya. Bring your cell phone. At three in the afternoon I’ll call you and tell you where, O.K.? O.K., but call me straight away, don’t make me wait. Don’t worry, I’ll call you straight away, make sure you have a signal and swear to me you’ll come alone. She said: after all this trouble who do you think I’m going to come with? The Virgin Mary?
Ramón traveled to Bogotá on the Friday, to get ready. He had made enquiries about private security and hired four bodyguards for the weekend, and he met them at the Hotel Charleston. He went for a walk with them, got to know them, and invited them out for a nice meal to get them on his side. Then he visited a fashionable brothel called La Piscina, and went into a private room with two women. The bodyguards protected him well and he got back to the hotel at three in the morning safe and sound.
The next day, he called Soraya about eleven in the morning and said, are you already in Bogotá? Yes, she said, tell me where you want to see me. He told her to wait at the entrance to the Carulla on Calle 85 and Carrera 15, and he would send for her. Then he changed hotels, moving to the Radisson in Santa Bárbara, and waited until two of his bodyguards informed him that they were already with her. Señor? The lady’s with us. Good, put her on. Hello, Soraya, the security measures are for me, but nothing’s going to happen to you, O.K.? Do what the men tell you, you can trust them.
The bodyguards brought her to the Radisson and he waited for her in a suite with a very nice view of Bogotá. When they came in he made them take her into one of the rooms in the suite and, before seeing her, he told his men to check the whole floor and take up positions, two inside and two outside the door. He dressed slowly and well, and at last made up his mind to enter the room.
Oh, thank God, she said when she saw him, I was starting to think this was a wasted journey. Ramón was silent, his eyes started to water and he had to bite his tongue in order not to sob. It was true that she had changed, but she was still pretty. She had put on a few pounds and her hair was dyed, which made her look older, but he recognized her, she was just the same. He saw her smile and remembered that last night, on the eve of his departure from La Cascada. He hadn’t gone with her to the Rey de la Pachanga because he had wanted to get up early in order to go to Villavicencio to talk to the police. She had stayed in La Cascada, with Jacinto and her brother Hernán.
Ramón asked her about that night, saying, tell me what happened exactly, I want the details, did you go straight to Jacinto or what? No, she said, I wasn’t with Jacinto, but with my brother Hernán. We were in the disco and Jacinto arrived there with Dagoberto. They talked for a while, and then Hernán said to me, Sorayita, there’s something important we need to ask you, is it true Ramón is going to Villavicencio tomorrow to inform on Dagoberto to the police about the business with the car? I went red and didn’t say anything, I didn’t want anything to happen to you, but Dagoberto looked at me and said, I already know what he’s going to do in Villavicencio, I only want you to confirm it, that’s all, you’re the man’s girlfriend and I respect you, but it’s only right you should know that Ramón is working for the FARC in La Cascada and Villavicencio and that’s why he’s against us, and what he wants is for them to capture me and then fuck things up for Hernán, that’s why it’s important that you confirm it for us, Sorayita, because things could get nasty. I asked them what they were going to do to you, and they said, just question him, tell him to let us do our work and not interfere. That’s what they told me. So I said, yes, Ramón is going to talk to the police, he’s a good man because he covered for you when you we
re trying to extort money from him for the car, but they said, what do you mean, extort, the truth is the man is working for the FARC, we ought to go and kill him right now, tonight, said my brother Hernán, who was already drunk, and then Jacinto said, don’t worry, Sorayita, you know Ramón and I have been friends since we were children and I wouldn’t let any harm come to him, but we do have to stop him because otherwise this town is going to become a hell for us. I believed them.
She said these last words with tears in her eyes, and Ramón felt the impulse to console her, but he did not approach her. He said: and were you so stupid you believed they weren’t going to do anything to me, when they’d filled La Cascada with bodies in ditches? Oh, Ramón, what could I do if the three of them were in agreement and convinced me? Nothing. Ramón looked at her angrily and said: and then you went off to screw Jacinto! She continued crying and got down on her knees. Look, Ramón, I hurt you a lot, but now I’m paying. My daughter is with her grandmother, my husband is in prison, they’ve taken away the two farms, the restaurants, and the house, they’ve confiscated everything, and here I am, on my knees, begging your forgiveness, what more do you need to be able to forgive me?
Ramón looked at her and said: there’s nothing you can do to make me forgive you, my mother is dead, she died alone because of you. What I wanted was to hear the story of your betrayal and tell you that I was the one who hatched this revenge, the one who got hold of Dagoberto’s laptop with the photographs and distributed them everywhere, because you should know that friend of yours was spying on you and taking photographs, of you and me too, maybe from even earlier, don’t you see? You’ve all ruined my life and now I’ve ruined yours, that’s what you gained from being bastards. You can go now, Soraya, I never want to see you again.
Necropolis Page 27
