agitated and impatient. The waiters, carrying trays laden with bottles, glasses, carafes of cheap house wine and sodas manoeuvre around and through the crowds and the tables in a prodigious balancing act that acrobats of the Moscow State Circus would admire. Then he sees him: his hair has been dyed yellow, he’s grown a moustache and he’s wearing fake prescription eyeglasses, but it’s him. Dandy didn’t lie. Mole is sitting at a table smack in the middle of the room, and he’s alone. Lascano takes one step back and watches him from behind the window just as the waiter brings him a large half-cheese-halffugazza pizza and a bottle of Quilmes beer. He slips into the restaurant behind Mole and sneaks over to the public phone booth. The phone is broken. He goes to the cash register and asks to borrow the phone. He dials the number of the switchboard.
This is Superintendent Lascano… Connect me to the Haedo station… Give me the number then… Who’s in charge there?… Thanks, kid…
He hangs up, mumbling a curse. If at all possible, he’d rather avoid talking to Roberti. He tries to remember the name of the cadet he met at shooting practice, but his name seems to have vanished from his memory. The kid, who had only a few months left before graduating, had impressed him as being very serious. He seemed to take being a policeman very much to heart, and Lascano couldn’t help worrying about him, about how disappointed he’d be once he fully entered that world. He’d seen it too many times: these kids enter the academy full of ideals and end up turning into hopeless scum. That particular kid had sought him out several times to ask for advice about problems that had come up in the department, and Lascano had given it freely, being careful not to shatter his illusions but, at the same time, not shielding him from reality. He thought the kid should know that he wasn’t joining a kindergarten, and that the police force was riddled with danger zones. The last time Lascano saw him, he told him he’d been assigned as a clerk in the Haedo station. But what the hell was his name? He gives up trying to remember and dials the number. The moment someone picks up the phone, the name pops into his head. He speaks, his eyes never straying from Mole.
May I please speak to Maldonado… How’re you doing, kid? Lascano here… Remember me?… It’s been a long time… Listen, I need a favour, tonight… but I don’t want anybody at the station to find out, especially not Roberti… You up for it?… Listen, I have located a very dangerous suspect, and I want to arrest him… It’s a public place and I think I’ll be able to do it without problems… What I need is for you to come and give me some backup and keep him under lock and key until tomorrow… How soon can you be here?… At the pizzeria on Gaona and Las Flores… You can’t make it sooner?… That’s fine. I’ll figure out how to keep him here… You have a car?… Bring it… Okay, be quick.
Miranda is eating his pizza with his hands, placing one slice of mozzarella face down on another of fugazza. Perro eats it the same way. He takes his gun out of his belt and puts it in the pocket of his overcoat, without relaxing his grip. He waits. Down the narrow aisle that leads to Miranda’s table a fat woman is dragging a kicking- and-screaming six-year-old piglet to the bathroom; you’d think she was leading him to the slaughterhouse. When the way is clear, he covers the distance in three long strides and sits down in front of his prey. He takes the gun out of his pocket under the table and points it straight at him. Mole has frozen, his sandwich poised halfway to his mouth.
Steady as she goes, Mole. We don’t want to kick up a fuss. I’ve got one pointing at you under the table and there are three more surrounding you. Did you really have to ruin my dinner? Couldn’t you have waited for me at the door? Keep your hands still. Don’t worry, I know when the game’s up, I’m not about to do anything. But can I finish my pizza? Go right ahead. You want some? No, thank you. You don’t mind if I take the knife away from you, do you? No problem, anyway I eat with my hands. Are you armed? I’m never armed, Lascano, you know that. The three guards your gang shot the other night wouldn’t agree. What three guards? The armoured car in Villa Adelina. I have no idea what you’re talking about. The armoured car you attacked the other night, don’t play dumb. I had nothing to do with that. Oh, really? Just so you know what’s what, there are three dead bodies who’ll point their fingers straight at you. In Chorizo’s zone, right? I think so. Now I get it. What? They’re framing me. You know very well my gang got scattered after the last job. Dandy’s in jail, and they must be putting the screws on him, but good. The others are probably trying to find a dung heap to hide in. And Bangs? Bit the dust, hit by a car while he was running away. Fucking shit. At least he didn’t have a family. And you? Managed to disappear till now. Yeah, with a cool million. Really, you don’t say. But I’m sure we can come to some kind of understanding. You know me, Mole, no understandings. You hand over the dough to me, I return it to the bank and I put in a good word for you with the judge. You must think I’m some kind of idiot, Lascano. What’s in it for you? Money. And me, what am I offering you? Dirty money. If the banker gives it to me, it’s clean. Yeah, as clean as the urinal at Retiro station. I’ll give you double. Don’t waste your breath, Mole, there’s not a chance in a million. Well, too bad, then, ’cause I’ll need every penny of it for my family and to pay the lawyers, especially if Chorizo wants to lay those corpses on me. Damn right, I’m going to need a whole shitload of the stuff.
Mole finishes chewing. Impatiently, he wipes his mouth with the paper napkin and starts to fumble in his pockets. Lascano cocks his pistol. Miranda hears the unmistakable “clack” of the hammer.
Calm down, I’m just looking for a cigarette. Okay. No, it’s not okay, I’m all out. Have you got any? I quit. You really didn’t do the armoured-car job? Look, Lascano, I’ve never killed anybody and I’m going to tell you why, even though you already know, otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen this place full of families and kids to arrest me. You know I’m not going to do anything that’ll put them in danger. I’m a big boy now and I’ve already served my time. In fact, I’ve wasted my life. I missed out on being with my son, watching him grow up, taking him to school and all that stuff. My wife has put up with everything, but she’s no spring chicken either. The truth is, I’m sick of the whole bloody thing. You know what I dream of? No, what do you dream of, Mole? My grandchildren. You’re going to make me cry; ever since you became a blond, you are so sensitive. I’m serious, Perro, I imagine taking my little two- year-old out on his first walk around the neighbourhood. I can see myself a few steps behind him, keeping an eye on him from just the right distance, watching how he moves, how he reacts to things he finds along the way, teaching him how to walk, educating him. Not to be a thug, but not a wimp either. You understand? I understand. And what I don’t want is for somebody to pop up behind me and put two bullets in my neck. You know what I mean? It would be a bad lesson for the kid, don’t you think? Very moving, Mole, but the slammer is what’s in store for you now. And then you get to go collect from the banker. To each his own. You want to tell me the difference between me, the bank robber, paying you to let me go, or the banker-robber paying you for bringing me in? Very simple, nobody’s going to come after me for the money I get from the banker-robber, but they will for yours. But mine’ll be double, it’s a better deal and nobody’s the wiser. But I’m not a businessman, Mole, I see things differently. What I don’t understand, Lascano, is how you can be so intelligent and so stupid at the same time. There are many things in nature that are difficult to understand.
Lascano sees Maldonado entering behind Mole and he nods to him. He looks at the check the waiter has put in the glass with the napkins and slips in a few bills behind it.
It’s on me, Mole. But you’re paying on credit, Perro, and that’s never a good idea. Maldonado, you go behind and I’ll be in front. If he does anything smart, shoot him, understood? Understood. We’ll leave by the side door. Where’s the car? About thirty feet down the street. Let’s go.
They step into the street, leaving behind the din of the restaurant. The cold breeze swirls around them. Maldonado stands behind Mole, watchful, holding his forty-five and looks at Lascano, waiting for instructions. But Miranda’s the one who does the talking.
So, you had me surrounded, did you? And I believed you, hands down, Perro, you won that round.
Lascano smiles. Mole looks around, as if trying to find a way to escape but knowing he won’t find one. At any moment it’s going to start to rain. There’s a cigarette stand across the street.
How about you let me buy some smokes? I’m going to need company where I’m going. I’ll buy them for you, what’s your poison? American, any brand.
Lascano motions to Maldonado. He takes out a pair of handcuffs and Mole puts his hands behind his back to let him put them on. They walk to the car. Lascano tells him to sit in front. Maldonado stands two yards away from the car and keeps his eyes glued on Mole. Perro crosses the street and buys three packs of Marlboro and a disposable lighter. He returns. Maldonado waits until Lascano sits down behind Miranda, then gets into the driver’s seat. Because of the discomfort of the handcuffs, Mole sits crooked in the front seat.
Miranda asks permission to smoke. Lascano removes the cellophane, opens the pack, takes out a Marlboro and lights it, experiencing a powerful deja vu. Resisting a mighty desire to inhale the smoke, he places the cigarette between Mole’s lips. Miranda breathes in deeply; when he exhales, the car fills with smoke, sinking Lascano into memories of his former life.
Hey, guys, you know what I like to do more than anything else in the whole world?… Give money away.
