“Rudolfo.”
“Thank you for this, Rudolfo.”
“
From time to time a car would pass down the lonely street and Sevilla would tense, but these never stopped. The sun tracked across the sky, bleeding away the afternoon and shifting the shadows. Finally Sevilla saw a Lexus sedan turn the farthest corner and cruise to a slow stop before the building.
Two men emerged with a third still behind the wheel. Sevilla wished for a pair of binoculars but he had none, so he squinted to make out faces. He did not recognize them, but he couldn’t see them clearly, either.
One of the men undid the chains that bound the front doors. He pushed one half of the entrance aside and the Lexus slipped inside. The door closed behind it. A few minutes later the little entry door opened and another blurry-faced man stood outside for a smoke.
Sevilla’s heart jumped when he saw the city police unit turn the same far corner and crawl along the block. It was the first such car he’d seen all day and his pulse sped up still further when it came to a slow stop in front of the building.
One cop got out. The smoking man greeted him. Sevilla saw them talking but it was silent here. The cards purred between Rudolfo’s hands as he shuffled once again.
Another man came out of the building to speak with the cop. Sevilla leaned forward as if he could catch word of what they said, but it was an unconscious gesture and pointless. His phone vibrated again and for an instant he wanted to smash it.
The second man produced something white from his jacket pocket, an envelope, and passed it to the policeman. The policeman put the envelope away. He saluted both the men and got back into the cruiser. They stood aside and let the cops drive off.
Sevilla let his breath out in a rush. He didn’t realize he’d been holding it.
That was how they did it. The place was remote and the building without anything remarkable about it. And to keep the streets secure they paid the locals to stay away as they went about their business. Of course it was so simple; it needn’t be any more complicated.
SEVENTEEN
WHEN THE SUN FELL LOW IN THE west it was in Sevilla’s face and he squinted against the glare behind sunglasses. Rudolfo abandoned the couch and retreated to the apartment’s little kitchen to begin preparations for the evening meal. Though they did not speak, Sevilla got the impression that the ancient man enjoyed the company because he had so little otherwise. Sevilla was sure there would just happen to be too much food for one man and he would have to share. He still had no appetite.
At half past seven a van approached the building. It pulled up to the great sliding doors and honked its horn. The entrance was spread wide. Sevilla could make out a telephone number on the side of the van, but not the text above it. He called the number. No one answered, but the machine told him it was a business that rented sound systems for parties and dances.
Eventually Sevilla saw the van leave and it was quiet until sunset. As he expected, Rudolfo brought him a complete dinner to eat at the little folding table.
“How old are you,
Sevilla told him.
“I have a son your age. He lives here in the city, but he never comes to visit. His mother and I raised him in this apartment from when he was a little boy. He never comes.”
Sevilla had nothing to say to that. He merely nodded.
“Do you have children?”
“I have a daughter,” Sevilla replied. “She lives with me and her mother while she studies. I’m very proud of her.”
“You are a lucky man.”
“Very lucky. I have a granddaughter, as well. When I hold her, I feel twenty years younger. It’s as though I have my baby daughter back again.”
“Grandchildren are a blessing,” Rudolfo agreed.
Sevilla cleared his plate. He brought it to the kitchen himself. The space was cramped and the sink small. When he returned, Rudolfo was watching him.
“Do you want to see your daughter and granddaughter again?” Rudolfo asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you should go away from here.”
Sevilla went to the window. He saw two cars with their headlights on against the gathering darkness. They stopped at the building and disgorged their passengers. He saw one woman among them in a bright dress. She looked like a whore. The men were all in jackets and shirts as if they were headed for a night on the town at restaurants and casinos. They went in through the little door by the boarded window.
“I have to stay,” Sevilla replied at last. “These men… they must be stopped.”
“If you wanted to stop them, you would not be alone. I’m old,
Rudolfo’s words made Sevilla look away from the street. The ancient man was on his couch again with the deck of cards on the coffee table untouched. As he regarded Rudolfo, the man switched on a lamp and yellow light spilled around the room.
“I’m not here to die,” Sevilla said.
“Aren’t you?”
“No. I’ve come too far with this to die before it’s done.”
More cars came and more still until there was a crowd of them along the curb in front of the building and across the street. Sevilla saw more women, more prostitutes and some that even from a distance and in the dark he could see were not whores. The acid feeling in his stomach increased again and made the food there like stone.
“These men you seek, they aren’t
Sevilla took up his notepad. He began to scribble instructions on them, then slowed himself deliberately so his handwriting would be clear; Rudolfo would have to follow them and so they must be legible.
“Who are they?” Rudolfo asked again.
“You don’t want to know what kind of men they are,” Sevilla replied.
Now Sevilla did hear something from the street. He paused and turned his ear to the night and heard it again: the thudding pulsebeat of loud electronic music. Lights shone through the spots and cracks in the corrugated aluminum doors and out of the windows high above. Someone had opened them to let the party noise spill out.
He finished writing and came to Rudolfo on the couch. “Listen to me,” he said. “When I’m gone I want you to wait fifteen minutes and call the number. This number here.”
“My telephone doesn’t work,” said Rudolfo. “They are supposed to repair the lines on Monday.”
Sevilla flinched, and then he went into his pockets. He pressed his phone into the ancient man’s hands. “Here. This is my phone. You know how to use a phone like this?”
“Yes.”
“Good. It also has a clock. Wait fifteen minutes by the clock and call the number. When you are put through, give them my name and then tell them exactly what I’ve written here. Every word.”
“Who am I calling?”
“The Policia Federal,” Sevilla told Rudolfo. “When they come, close your windows and go to your bedroom. There may be gunshots. I don’t want you to be hurt. Stray bullets go far.”
“You are going in there?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What good do you think you can do that the
Sevilla put his notepad in Rudolfo’s lap. He clasped his hands around the ancient man’s, the cell phone clutched between those strong old fingers. “I can do one good thing. Only promise me you will do what I ask. I thank you for everything, but do what I ask now.”
