Renaldo

by James McCreath

  at her in disbelief. She stood by the open door, contempt burning in her eyes.

  Finally, he muttered his plaintive reply,

  “Please, Celeste, don’t do this to me . . . to us. I know that I am hotheaded

  sometimes, but you have no idea what you’ve done to me. I am a changed

  person. You opened my eyes to things I have never seen before or was too blind

  to see. The political injustice that has been going on in this country for decades,

  benefiting the likes of my own family. I have changed, Celeste, and I want to do

  something about our social and political injustice. I just don’t know how to go

  about it. I don’t know what to do on my own. Please don’t cast me aside like I

  am the wrapper off some candy bar! Let me prove to you that I can help make a

  difference! I will do anything, anything you tell me. I am lost without you. My

  life has no meaning without you. All the money, the luxuries that my family

  has accumulated over the years, they mean nothing to me. They got my father

  nowhere except an early grave. I can make a difference. You will see, if only you

  give me one chance to prove myself.”

  Lonnie was sobbing uncontrollably by the time he finished the last

  sentence. The girl from Tucumán knew that she had him in the palm of her

  hand. Her plan had worked to perfection.

  “Stop your sniveling! You say you are a man that is ready to make a

  difference, yet you stand here before me crying like a baby. I don’t think you

  are man enough to be a part of what I must do. Get out.”

  “Celeste, if you make me go, life will be empty for me. Tell me what to do.

  I love you so much, I will do anything. Don’t waste my life without benefiting

  from my help, because if you make me leave now, I have nothing to live for.

  I know . . . I know that I will do something, something violent and stupid! I

  would be out of my mind over losing you. Let me help you do whatever it is you

  must do. Let me meet your brothers. Let them decide about me. You can trust

  me! Put me to work, because my life is in your hands!”

  Celeste kept her eyes locked on his and slowly closed the door behind her.

  This would be easier than she had anticipated. The tutor crossed the room to

  where Lonnie stood, took his hand, and led him into the bedroom. She made

  him sit on a small wooden chair that she pulled from beneath her makeup

  table. It was barely sturdy enough to hold his massive frame.

  The half-dressed woman wanted her visitor to be uncomfortable and on

  edge. She climbed onto her double bed and sat cross-legged, staring at him for

  several minutes without saying a word. Finally, she spoke.

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  JAMES McCREATH

  “That chair is not comfortable for you, Lonnie, is it? You would like it

  much better if you could join me here on the bed, wouldn’t you? You had better

  get used to being uncomfortable if we let you join us. Your present life is like

  this bed: soft, warm, and inviting. Your new life will be like that chair, hard

  and unyielding. Are you strong enough to endure the hardships that will surely

  accompany your new life? Do you think you can take it without running back

  to Mama at the first sign of trouble? Once we let you in, the only way out is in

  a casket! Does that scare you, my petit bourgeoisie?”

  He didn’t even feel the chair beneath him. He was so exhilarated with the

  thought that he would finally be able to make a difference, to do something

  useful with his life, to be with her!

  “No, I am not scared. The only thing that scares me is losing you, Celeste.

  I have fought many demons in my life, but none like the ones I would have to

  cope with if I could not prove worthy of your love. I am ready to follow you

  anywhere!”

  “Forget about your past brawling and macho bullshit. That was schoolboy

  stuff compared to what I will ask of you. Have you ever fired a handgun or

  rifle? Do you know anything about explosives? How about killing a man with

  a knife so that he doesn’t make a sound? These are the kind of things that you

  must learn, the kind of things that I will ask of you, if you stay. You had better

  get it through that cement head of yours right now that I am not joking about

  any of this.”

  Celeste rose from the bed and went to her dresser. From the top drawer

  she took two objects, and when she turned to face him, tossed a spherical object

  into his lap. Lonnie caught it just inches away from his groin. He looked down

  at his hand in amazement, but didn’t flinch. He was holding a military issue

  hand grenade. When he looked up at her, she was pointing a cocked pistol

  directly at his head. A broad smile appeared on her pretty face.

  “So, cowboy, do you still want to play my game? It is a deadly game, be

  certain of that. This is your last chance to say adios, or you will be in for the

  rest of your life. Now, what will it be, stay and play, or run and hide behind the

  high, safe walls of your family’s mansion?”

  “I’ll play your game, Señorita. I am not afraid to die. All I am afraid of is

  losing you. Teach me. Teach me to use these things and I will do your bidding.

  Just like in your tutorials, you will see that I am a fast learner.”

  Lonnie could feel his own weapon growing hard under the coarse denim

  of his blue jeans. Celeste looked incredibly sexy standing there in his dress-

  shirt, the revolver in her hand. She must have felt the sexual tension as well,

  for she straddled his legs and sat down on his lap. She pressed the barrel of the

  pistol to his temple, then thrust her bare love nest rhythmically against his

  swollen, straining member.

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  RENALDO

  “Don’t fuck with me, Lonnie, or I’ll make sure that you will be both

  coming and going at the same time. You understand me, you big stud?”

  He said nothing, simply placed his mouth on hers and kissed her

  passionately. Rising from the chair, he carried her the few steps to the bed, her

  legs wrapped around his waist, the pistol still held to his temple. He had never

  been so sexually charged in his life. It was only during her orgasm as he feasted

  on her sweet delights that she finally dropped the deadly object, moaning and

  writhing in ecstasy. Lonnie then used his own concealed ‘canon’ on her, with

  similar results.

  He was in charge now, and for once, it would be him that controlled the

  tempo and flow of their union. He was insatiable, taking her several different

  ways before exploding all over her breasts, face, and hair. It was nearly two

  hours since she had tossed the grenade in his lap.

  Their moans and sighs intermingled as they lay in each other’s arms.

  Lonnie could not see the sly grin on Celeste’s face as she rested with her head on

  his shoulder. This will be fun, she thought. Training a new martyr for the cause, and

  getting fucked like that at the same time. This is a bonus that I hadn’t counted on.

  Two days later, Lonnie was hastily summoned to Celeste’s flat. She had

  made certain that her infatuated lover would return immediately to the scene

  of their most recent union by using her sexiest voice, saying that she had been

  horny ever since their last tryst. She had informed
him that she was consumed

  by an uncontrollable need to be taken roughly again, to be dominated and

  pleasured into submission.

  Lonnie didn’t need an engraved invitation. His mother had been tormenting

  him about his summer plans all throughout their noon day meal together. She

  was insistent that he take some extra business courses at the university while

  doing volunteer work at No Se Preocupe on weekends. The trust fund that

  Lydia had set up for him paid out a healthy monthly allowance, and Florencia

  was well aware that her eldest son did not need to supplement his income by

  taking some meaningless job just to occupy his time. He had told her that he

  would go by the registrar’s office that afternoon to find out whatever he could

  about summer courses. That is where Florencia assumed he was going when he

  left Casa San Marco in a big hurry shortly after luncheon had concluded.

  Lonnie’s erotic anticipation waned as soon as he entered Celeste’s flat. She

  was fully clothed, and the icy tone of her voice told him that there would be no

  carnal games played today.

  “Sit down on the couch, Lonnie. I have someone here that wants to meet

  you.” Her voice and manner were completely detached and businesslike. “First,

  however, I must blindfold you for security purposes.

  I hope you don’t mind, but if things go well, the blindfold will not be

  needed again.”

  12

  JAMES McCREATH

  She moved behind him, taking a black silk scarf from the side table.

  Lonnie was both excited and terrified. He hoped that she hadn’t noticed the

  sweat on his brow as she tightened the scarf around his head. He sat in total

  darkness now, unable to see a thing.

  The student was aware of movement behind him, and what sounded like

  two or more people entering the living room. He was tempted to tear the

  blindfold from his eyes and confront these mystery people eye to eye, man to

  man. But he had told Celeste that he was man enough to play her game, so he

  remained seated and silent in his blacked out dungeon.

  “Lonnie, my two brothers are in the room with us now, and be forewarned,

  they are armed with handguns equipped with silencers. If you make a move to

  discard your blindfold, or if your answers are not honest and true, they will not

  hesitate to use their weapons. Be careful what you say.”

  Celeste spoke to the men in French for a few seconds, then there was

  silence. Lonnie could once again feel movement in the room, adjacent the couch

  where he sat. Are they circling their prey for the kill? he thought. The blindfolded

  visitor was surprised at how soft and articulate the voice was that finally broke

  the silence.

  “Señor Lonfranco Ernesto De Seta, it is a pleasure to finally meet your

  acquaintance. I apologize for the necessity of the blindfold, however. One can

  not be too careful in these times. I am Serge Lavalle. No doubt Celeste has told

  you a bit about my brother and me. Jean Pierre is here in the room with us as

  well, but I will be the only one addressing you this afternoon.

  “Celeste has apparently had quite an effect on your political philosophy,

  Señor De Seta. She has told us that you are ready and willing to try to make a

  difference in our beloved country’s political future. Frankly, I am surprised that

  you would risk your considerable fortune to attain martyrdom, for make no

  mistake, Señor, that is the only place our actions will lead us. It is only through

  our actions and our blood that Argentina will achieve its true destiny. A nation

  where all people share equally in the bounty of our great and prosperous land.

  Not just the wealthy, the military, the corrupt, but all the people! That is

  the way our great leader and founder, Juan Domingo Perón would have made

  Argentina forever, had not certain satanic forces worked to promote his downfall

  and ultimate death.

  “The three of us are Montoneros, Señor De Seta, and as such, there are

  death warrants on our heads. Each of us, even Celeste, has killed for the cause,

  and it is precisely what we expect of you as well. These are not childrens’s

  games we play, Señor. We have had two brothers killed already in our fight

  for justice. It is their martyrdom that makes us relentless in the pursuit of our

  goal. Nothing will stop us. Not even the bullets of the government lackeys.”

  128

  RENALDO

  Lonnie sat listening intently to every word that Serge Lavalle said. He was

  given a lecture on the history of the Montonero movement, the greatness of

  Juan Domingo Perón, the diabolical corruptness of the succession of leaders that

  vowed to remove Perónism from Argentina’s political structure, and a forecast

  on just how the rebel organizations would one day band together and realize

  that Perónism was the only true form of political freedom for the people of

  Argentina. Lavalle spoke with a passion and insight that had reminded Lonnie

  of his first private political debates with Celeste. It had been necessary for her

  to be extremely guarded in her statements then, but Lonnie could now see the

  same political undertone running through Serge’s monologue.

  What it all came down to was the use of force, extortion, murder, and

  widespread civil disobedience as a way of showing the general populous that

  the current political and economic situation was bankrupting the country,

  benefiting only those at the very top of the hierarchy.

  Inflation had reached astronomical proportions in the last few years,

  well over three hundred percent per annum at times, and the current junta

  had removed protective tariffs on imported goods, flooding the local markets

  with cheap imports and driving many local manufacturers to bankruptcy. The

  offshoot of this economic policy was that more workers were unemployed,

  reducing their influence as a political force. Cattle and grain had, once again,

  become the only real exports of value to the Argentine economy. As such, it

  was the members of the old oligarchy friendly to the junta that prospered the

  most.

  Serge Lavalle rhymed off several of the past holdings of De Seta

  International SA, making it clear to Lonnie that this man knew a lot more

  about the De Setas than he had ever expected. It was also made clear to Lonnie

  that the Montoneros included his family as part of the same oligarchy that was

  profiting the most under the current economic climate. It was becoming very

  clear to Lonnie why he would be such a prized disciple of the Montonero cause

  if he were allowed to join them. He was, as Celeste had told him, everything

  she had grown to despise about the current political landscape. Her coup had

  been recruiting and transforming an oligarchist into a populist. The fact that

  her ex-student was in love with her had certainly made the job easier.

  Celeste had never used the term ‘Montonero’ in any of her discussions with

  Lonnie, whether in private or publicly in her tutorials. She had only referred to

  the subversives as ‘revolutionaries.’ Even so, Lonnie was well aware of the violent

  and chaotic events for which this particular cadre of ‘revolutionaries’ had been

  responsible.


  Over the past twenty years, hundreds of people, from high-ranking

  government and military officials to local police and judicial authorities had

  felt the wrath of these cold-blooded killers. Innocent people often got in the

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  JAMES McCREATH

  way of their murderous schemes, and the outrage of the general populous

  against the continuing terror tactics of the Montoneros caused ruling military

  powers to not just react, but to overreact. Pitched military battles combined

  with sweeping arrests of anyone with mildly leftist views had wiped out all but

  the best organized and most secretive of the ‘revolutionary’ cadres by 1977.

  The Marxist E.R.P., or People’s Revolutionary Army, had lost their

  charismatic leader Mario Roberto Santucho in a wild gun battle in July of

  1976. The military junta that had deposed Juan Perón’s widow, Maria Estela

  Martinez De Perón, from the presidency four months before Santucho’s death

  proclaimed that they would stop the terrorism through a policy known as ‘the

  PRN’ or the Process of National Reorganization.

  In reality, the PRN was nothing more than a thinly veiled antiterrorist

  guise that allowed the junta to revoke virtually all civil liberties throughout the

  entire country. They even encouraged the formation of their own antiterrorist

  guerrilla group, a ruthless band of right-wing cutthroats called ‘the A.A.A.’ or

  the Argentine Anti-Communist Alliance. It was little wonder that present-day

  Buenos Aires often resembled a town right out of the American Wild West.

  Exactly who was responsible for the latest bombing, kidnapping, or shootout

  was often never resolved. Suffice it to say that many a cowboy died with his

  boots on in the name of whatever cause held his favor at the time.

  The Lavalles must have been both smart and lucky to still be alive in

  December of 1977. The blindfold around Lonnie’s head could attest to their

  caution, and Serge’s lecture on the political forces of the day was only the

  precursor of many tests that Lonnie would be forced to endure before they

  would trust him as one of their revolutionary brothers.

  After what seemed like an eternity of sitting and listening in his dark

  obscurity, Lonnie was finally asked his first question. He welcomed a chance

  to respond.

  “So you see, Lonnie, our life is not one of glamour, fame, and material