‘Don’t talk nonsense. We’ll never be on the same side,’ the cripple shot back.
‘There is only one side,’ they heard a voice say, ‘mine.’
They both looked in the direction of the voice and saw JC in a bathrobe, next to the door of the bedroom. He was leaning on his cane and walking toward the sofa, where Raul made room for him at his side.
‘Can’t you sleep?’ he asked Raul.
‘I’m not the only one.’ The military man looked at the cripple.
‘Him? He seems awake, but he’s sleeping,’ JC said, leaning on the cane.
The cripple made no response. He continued with eyes closed, stretched on the recliner, aware of the inside and outside. His capacity for keeping watch was amazing.
‘Your wife hasn’t reacted well.’
‘How could she?’ Raul sighed. ‘If someone told you your daughter’s in danger, how would you feel?’
‘I don’t have children. Family is a weakness,’ he said coldly.
‘You believe that?’ Raul looked at him, horrified. Without descendants, without family, there was no humanity.
‘Has it never crossed your mind that without us this world would be paradise?’
Raul didn’t answer. Now he understood why JC had no respect for human life. He considered it dispensable, unless it had some momentary utility. Only his side mattered.
‘Who’s shown the courage to make the terrible JC, assassin of John Paul the First, flee?’
‘Oh, my friend. Don’t attribute crimes to me that history doesn’t consider such.’
‘We all know history is made by daring.’ Raul returned to the attack.
‘It’s what we have and what we respect,’ he deliberated calmly. Raul’s words hadn’t upset him, if that was their intention. ‘In regard to your question, we are dealing with an unfavorable strategic combination, nothing more.’
‘When you put it like that, it seems simple.’
‘And it is. Consider, yesterday’s allies are today’s enemies. That’s the way the world works. There are thousands of examples in history to illustrate this, and you don’t have to look back far.’
‘And enemies are turned into allies?’
‘Of course.’ He lay back on the sofa and leaned his cane on its side. ‘You don’t have to be a genius to see this easily. The relationship of the Americans with bin Laden, for example.’
‘He was always the eternal enemy.’
‘Or the eternal ally?’ A quick question to throw Raul in doubt.
‘No way is he an ally of theirs,’ Raul returned.
‘My dear captain, there are innumerable ways of cooperation. If I attack you, I am not necessarily your enemy. I can be an ally whose role is to seem like an enemy. But I am talking too much, excuse me. That example does not illustrate what I am saying. Look at Pakistan or Saudi Arabia. They are allies and enemies of the United States, depending on the best interests of whoever’s in power.’
‘And what is your relation with those countries? Ally or enemy?’ Raul touched a sore spot for JC.
His first response was a dry laugh followed by a suppressed cough that left him choking. At his age it was difficult to get enough oxygen.
‘No one has the luxury of having me as an enemy, Captain. If you knew me, you’d know that.’
‘That’s not what it seems. If so, you wouldn’t be here.’ The soldier was in fine form.
‘They don’t know me, either. Soon they’ll take note of that,’ the other answered in the sure, serious tone of leaders.
‘And the CIA, where does it fit into all this? It has a lot of power over them.’
‘We can’t count on the CIA for this battle. They’ll be on the other side of the barricades. They’re going to understand that, but not lift a hand to prejudice either side. It’s a strange way to function, but the only way to survive.’
A vibrating sound, followed immediately by Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, filled the room. The cripple’s cell phone, which he answered without opening his eyes.
‘Yes.’
Twenty seconds later he hung up without saying another word of good-bye, not a ‘So long,’ least of all ‘Thanks.’
‘They’ve blown up her house. They still haven’t made anything public,’ was all he said.
A terrible feeling, worse than a hot knife, slashed through Raul.
‘And Sarah?’
‘There’s no word about her.’
‘Good God.’ Raul put his face in his hands despairingly. A feeling of impotence filled his soul, while he tried to imagine his daughter, thrown to her fate, uncertain, including death in the most awful way. Professionals didn’t have compassion. If her death was confirmed, he hoped it had been fast.
‘Don’t worry,’ he heard JC say. ‘If something happened to her, we’d know already.’
‘How can we be certain?’
‘Because that would be a message they’d want us to get immediately. It would already be on television. You can be at peace. All is well,’ the old man explained calmly. Such coldness sent chills down Raul’s spine.
‘How can they hide an exploding house from the media?’ He didn’t understand. JC’s words, such as they were, calmed him. Sarah was okay, he forced himself to think positive, and felt a little better.
‘Circling off the area or saying it was a gas explosion. Right away they lose interest,’ he explained. ‘What matters is blood and terrorism.’
‘All this has to do with the murder of Luciani?’ the Portuguese wanted to know.
‘Ironically, no.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
Silence fell over the room quickly. Raul waited for a conclusion that didn’t come. The old man was irritated.
‘Well then, what does it have to do with?’
‘Hot tea.’
‘What?’
‘Hot tea is what sounds good to me now. Do you have any?’
Raul couldn’t believe that in this disorienting moment the old man could be thinking of tea, but he should have been used to it. Most of the time Raul saw him as a normal human being, a fragile elder like so many around there. Nothing could have been more of a false impression.
‘Do you have any?’ JC asked again.
‘Herbal,’ the military man replied.
‘That’ll have to do. But I suggest you renew your stock of Earl Grey or Twinings for tomorrow.’
Raul got up and looked at him from above before going into the kitchen to make tea.
‘Aren’t you going to answer me?’
‘This has nothing to do with Pope Luciani,’ JC said without looking at him. ‘It has to do with the Pole.’
‘Wojtyla?’ Raul looked at him incredulously.
The old man nodded.
‘Do you consider all the popes enemies?’
‘Wojtyla was not my enemy. Never. He was an old man without balls, but not an enemy.’
This reply left Raul in shock. The mystery intensified. So this had nothing to do with what he thought. It was completely beyond what was happening around him. One thing was sure. There were not many people who could make someone as influential as JC retreat to a place like Alentejo to find refuge. What was happening had to be very serious to make this brilliant strategist leave the comfort of his villa in Italy. Another thing that shook him was the older man’s attempt to protect his daughter, although he had done nothing specific except warn her. He had a faint hope in his heart that he had done it in time and that she was able to get out of the city.
‘While you put the water on to boil, call your contact.’
‘Sir,’ the cripple cried out, awakening with his pride wounded. ‘Not that.’
‘Sit down,’ the old man ordered in a firm voice. There was no doubt about who was in charge here. ‘We need
