'Is he involved with the league?'
She hesitated. 'He was once,' she said, cautiously. 'But since the bishop started cracking down… Well, I can't say.'
'Can't or won't?'
'He's a good guy, Brouwer is. He does what he thinks is right.'
'You're not answering my question.'
'No, I'm not. And I don't intend to. But I'll say this: Brouwer is a priest, not a landless worker. That means he wouldn't qualify for membership, much less leadership, in the league.'
'Who runs it?'
'Luiz Pillar.'
'Not him,' Silva said. 'He's in Brasilia. I'm talking about here, locally.'
'Most people don't know,' she said.
'But you do?'
She thought about the question for a moment and decided to answer. 'I do, but I don't print it.'
'Why?'
She sighed. 'Because when certain landowners manage to identify league leaders, those leaders have a way of turning up dead.'
'Like that guy they nailed to a tree?'
'You heard about that, did you? His name was Aurelio Azevedo. Ferraz was in charge of the investigation. He never arrested anyone. Why am I not surprised?'
'You think Ferraz is in bed with the landowners?'
'I think he's a whore who gets into bed with anyone who pays him, and the association pays him. Don't quote me. I can't prove it.'
'Who runs the association?'
'The Munizes, father and son. Orlando Senior is the national president. Junior runs the local chapter. He also runs a big ranch-and I mean a really big ranch-that his father owns about fifteen kilometers east of here, the Fazenda de Boa Vista.'
'And his opposite number? The guy who runs the league locally?'
'Roberto Pereira. Don't spread it around, okay? I don't want his murder on my conscience. By the way, did you know that Pillar is in town?'
'Luiz Pillar? Here?'
Silva was surprised. Pillar spent most of his time lobbying politicians in Brasilia. He'd been particularly successful with the President of the Republic, a man who'd been a labor leader long before he had political ambitions.
'Yeah. Here,' Diana said, 'and staying at the Hotel Excelsior.'
'We're at the Excelsior as well,' Hector said, giving his uncle a sideways glance.
'Of course you are,' Diana said. 'It's the only game in town except for the Hotel Grande, which is anything but grand, except, maybe, for the size of the cockroaches.'
'What brings Pillar to Cascatas? Any idea?'
'No, but whenever he shows up things have a way of happening.'
'They do indeed. This guy Pereira, you know where to find him?'
'No.'
Hector lifted an eyebrow.
'No,' she repeated. 'I really don't, but if there's a demonstration or if they occupy somebody's property-and with Pillar here it's got to be one or the other-you're going to find him right up front.'
'Capable of violence?'
'Roberto?' She thought about it for a moment. 'I'm not sure,' she said, massaging the lobe of one ear between a thumb and a forefinger. 'If you'd asked me a year ago, I would have said `definitely not.' But he and his wife were great friends of the Azevedos. Their kids used to play together. After the murders he-'
She was interrupted by a knock. The roar of the press increased in intensity as a young woman stuck her head through the open door. She was in her early twenties, had short blonde hair and multiple studs on her ears.
'Can it wait?' Diana had to shout to make herself heard. 'I'm almost done.'
The blonde shook her head. 'You'd better come out here,' she shouted back.
Diana went out, closing the door behind her.
'Bitch,' Hector said, as soon as she was gone.
'I rather like her,' his uncle said. 'Refreshingly candid.' And then, to soothe his nephew's ruffled feathers: 'Good idea. Coming here, I mean. At least you and the lady seem to agree about one thing.'
'Yeah. Ferraz.'
Before he could say anything more the roar of the press was back. Diana bustled in, holding what appeared to be a box full of paper. She kicked the door closed with her left foot and put the object on the desk. The word IN was written with blue marker on a piece of masking tape stuck to one end.
'I didn't touch it,' she said, breathlessly, 'but my secretary did. You'll probably need her fingerprints for comparison. Read it.'
She pointed. Silva stood up, took out his reading glasses, and leaned over the paper that topped the pile. The note wasn't anything fancy. It had been block-printed with a ballpoint pen:
ORLANDO MUNIZ, THE MURDERER OF AURELIO AZEVEDO, NOW HAS ALL OF THE LAND HE'LL EVER NEED: IT'S TWO METERS LONG AND FIFTY CENTIMETERS WIDE.
There was no signature.
'Delivered by a street kid,' Diana said, 'in a plain white envelope with nothing but my name on the front. The envelope is outside in the wastebasket. The kid's already gone.'
'Orlando Muniz. Would that be Junior?' Hector asked.
'No doubt,' she said. 'The old man lives in Rio de Janeiro most of the time. If it had been him, you would have felt the ground shake. They say he's got half of the politicians in Brasilia in his pocket, but that's probably an exaggeration. Personally, I don't believe that it's more than a third of them.'
When Diana said the word 'politicians,' Hector glanced at his uncle.
'Merda,' Silva said.
Chapter Twelve
'What?'
'Is that a comment on what I just said, or do we have problems with the telephone line?' the director asked testily. He hated to repeat himself.
'The line,' Silva lied.
It was two minutes past 6:00, and true to his promise, the director was calling for an update.
'I said Orlando Muniz is on his way to Cascatas,' he repeated, switching into his I'm-speaking-to-someone- whodoesn't-know-the-language mode. 'He'll be there tomorrow afternoon. Be nice to him. He was a major contributor to the president's campaign.'
'Muniz contributed to the president's campaign.'
Silva started the sentence as a question, but managed to kill the rising inflection and turn it into a statement. 'Why would he do that?'
'Why not?' the director said.
'Because the president leans to the left and Muniz's politics are said to be somewhere to the right of Attila the Hun's.'
'Yeah, but he's not stupid. Every poll predicted that the president was going to win, remember? Anyway, that's no concern of yours. Just make sure you don't piss Muniz off.'
'Don't worry. I couldn't if I wanted to.'
