B004QGYWDA EBOK (30 page)

Everybody’s different now. Maybe I am too, only I don’t notice it. The Jaguar’s changed so much it’s enough to scare you. He’s always angry, you can’t talk to him, if anybody just goes up and asks him a question or asks him for a cigarette, he acts as if it was an insult and starts saying the worst things he can think of. He hasn’t got any patience at all, he gets sore at anything, and then, bang, he laughs the way he does when he fights and you’ve got to calm him down. Jaguar, what’s the matter, I didn’t do anything, don’t get sore, there isn’t any reason to get sore. But no matter how you beg his pardon, he’s apt to start swinging, he’s beaten up several cadets these last few days. And he isn’t like that with just the others in the section, he’s like that with me and Curly, it’s hard to believe he’d be like that with us, we’re in the Circle. But the Jaguar’s changed on account of what happened to the peasant, I can tell it for sure. I don’t care how much he laughed and made believe he didn’t care a damn, it changed him when the peasant Cava was expelled. I’ve never seen him get so mad before, his whole body trembles, and what things he says, I’ll burn everything, I’ll kill everybody, I’ll burn down the administration building, I want to cut the colonel’s belly open and wear his guts for a necktie. It seems like years since the three of us left in the Circle got together, ever since they locked up the peasant and we tried to find the squealer. It isn’t fair what’s happened, the peasant up there with the alpacas, his whole life screwed up, and the guy that squealed on him scratching his stomach and laughing up his sleeve, I think it’s going to be tough to find out who it was. The Jaguar said, “We’ll know who it is in two hours, no, in one, just keep sniffing around, you can smell a squealer right away.” But that’s crap, you only find out a peasant with your nose or your eyes, the other sons of bitches know how to put on an act. That must be what’s got him down. But at least he should get together with us two, we’ve been his pals from the start. I don’t know why he stays alone. All you’ve got to do is go near him and he gives you a dirty look, it’s as if he’s ready to jump on you and bite you. They gave him a good nickname, it fits him exactly right. I don’t think I’ll go near him any more, he’ll think I’m ass-kissing, but I only tried to speak to him like a friend. It’s a miracle we didn’t have a big fight yesterday, I don’t know why I held back, I should’ve put him in his place, I’m not afraid of him. When the captain took us to the assembly hall and started talking about the Slave, that you have to pay dearly for your mistakes in the army, get it into your skulls that you’re in the armed forces and not a menagerie if you don’t want the same thing to happen to you, if we’d been at war that cadet would have been a traitor to the fatherland because he was irresponsible, what horseshit, it made my blood boil to hear him blabbing about a dead guy, Piranha you filthy bastard, you ought to get a bullet in the brain yourself. But I wasn’t the only one that got furious, everybody did, you just had to look at their faces. So I said to him, “Jaguar, he shouldn’t be talking like that about a dead guy, why don’t we start a chant and drown him out?” He said, “Shut up, you’re an animal, you always say stupid things. Don’t speak to me unless I speak to you first.” He must be sick, that isn’t the way a sane person behaves, mentally sick, completely out of his mind. Don’t think I need to hang around you, Jaguar, I used to follow you because it was a way of passing the time, but I can get along without you, we’ll be out of this dump pretty soon and I’ll never see you again. When I leave the Academy I’m not going to see anybody here again. Except for Skimpy. Maybe I’ll steal her and keep her for my own.

Alberto walked along the quiet streets of Barranco, among big, discolored houses in the style of the beginning of the century; they were separated from the street by deep gardens. The leaves of the tall trees cast spidery shadows on the pavement. Now and then a crowded streetcar went by, its passengers looking out of the windows with a bored air. I should’ve told her everything, just listen to what’s happened, he was in love with you, my father’s out with the prostitutes, my mother’s telling her beads and holding up her crucifix and confessing to the Jesuit, Pluto and Babe are talking in somebody’s house, listening to records in somebody’s living room, your aunt’s nibbling at her hair in the kitchen, and all the time the worms are eating him because he wanted to see you and his father wouldn’t let him out, just think about that, it doesn’t seem like much to you? He had got off the streetcar at La Laguna. There were couples or whole families enjoying the evening coolness on the grass under the trees, and the mosquitoes whined at the edge of the pool near the motionless boats. Alberto crossed the park and the playground. The light from the avenue showed him the swings and seesaws; the parallel bars, trapezes, and other games were hidden by shadows. He walked as far as the lighted plaza, but avoided it. He turned toward the Malecón, which he knew was not far off, beyond a mansion with cream-colored walls; it was taller than the others, and bathed in the slanting light of the street light. At the Malécon, he went to the parapet and looked over. The sea at Barranco was not the same as it was at La Perla. There, it always showed signs of life, and murmured angrily at night, but here at Barranco it was silent, waveless, a lake. You’re to blame too and when I told you he was dead you didn’t cry, it didn’t upset you at all. You’re to blame too and if I’d told you the Jaguar killed him you’d say, “The poor thing, do you mean a real jaguar?” But you wouldn’t cry about that either, and he was absolutely crazy about you. You’re to blame too and the only thing that’s upsetting you is the serious look on my face. Golden Toes is just a cheap whore but she’s got a bigger heart than you have.

It was an old, two-story house, with balconies over a flowerless garden. A narrow walk led from the rusting gate to the front door; it was an ancient door, carved with dim designs that looked like hieroglyphics. Alberto rapped with his knuckles. He waited a few seconds, noticed the doorbell, pressed his finger on the button and quickly released it. He heard footsteps, and came to attention.

“Come in,” Gamboa said, stepping aside.

Alberto entered, and heard the door close behind him. The lieutenant passed him and walked down a long, dark hallway. Alberto followed him on tiptoe. His face was almost touching Gamboa’s shoulders, and if the lieutenant had stopped suddenly, he would have bumped into him. But the lieutenant did not stop until he reached the end of the hallway and opened a door. Alberto waited on the threshold until Gamboa turned on the lights. It was a living room with green walls, and there were pictures in gilt frames. A man gazed fixedly at Alberto from a table top: it was an old, yellowed photograph, and the man sported sidewhiskers, a patriarchal beard, and a pointed mustache.

“Sit down,” Gamboa said, nodding toward an armchair.

Alberto sat down, and he felt himself sink into it as into a dream. Then he remembered he was still wearing his cap. He snatched it off, excusing himself in a low voice. But the lieutenant was closing the door and did not hear him. He turned, sat down in front of Alberto on a chair with ornate legs, and said, “Alberto Fernández. From the first section?”

“Yes, Sir.” He leaned forward a little and the springs in the armchair creaked.

“All right,” Gamboa said, “what’s it all about?”

Alberto looked at the floor. The carpet had a blue and cream-colored design, one square within another within another. He counted the bands: twelve, with a gray square in the center. He raised his
eyes
. There was a cabinet against the wall behind the lieutenant. It had a marble top and the drawer pulls were metal.

“I’m waiting, Cadet,” Gamboa said.

Alberto looked at the carpet again. “The death of Cadet Arana wasn’t an accident,” he said. “They killed him. It was revenge, Lieutenant.”

He raised his eyes. Gamboa had not moved; his face was impassive, there was no sign of surprise or even curiosity. His hands were resting on his knees, his legs were spread. Alberto noticed that the chair in which the lieutenant was sitting had squat, animal feet with cruel talons.

“They murdered him,” he said. “It was the Circle. They hated him, the whole section hated him. They didn’t have any reason to, he never made trouble for anybody, but they hated him because he didn’t like wisecracks and fighting. They drove him crazy, they bullied him all the time, and now they’ve murdered him!”

“Calm down,” Gamboa said. “Tell it in some kind of order. You can speak freely.”

“Yes, Sir,” Alberto said. “The officers don’t know anything about what goes on in the barracks. Everybody was against Arana the whole time, they made him get confined, they didn’t leave him alone for a single minute. Now they’re happy. It was the Circle, Lieutenant.”

“One moment,” Gamboa said, and Alberto looked at him. The lieutenant was sitting on the edge of his chair now, with his chin on the palm of his hand. “Are you trying to say that a cadet in your section deliberately fired at Cadet Arana? Is that it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Before you tell me the name of that person,” Gamboa said, “I’ve got to warn you of something. You’re making a very, very serious accusation. I hope you realize all the consequences this affair could have. And I hope you don’t have the slightest doubt about what you’re going to tell me. An accusation like this isn’t any joke. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’ve thought it all over. I didn’t speak to you before because I was afraid. Now I’m not.” He opened his mouth to continue, then closed it again. He was watching Gamboa’s face without lowering his eyes: it had clean-cut features and a look of self-assurance. A few seconds later those strong outlines seemed to dissolve, that dark skin seemed to grow pallid. Alberto closed his eyes and saw the pale, yellowish face of the Slave, his wavering gaze, his weak lips. He opened his eyes again, and when he became conscious of Lt. Gamboa, he remembered the open field, the vicuña, the chapel, the empty bunk in the barracks.

“Yes, Sir,” he said. “I’ll take the responsibility. The Jaguar killed him to get revenge for Cava.”

“What?” Gamboa asked. He had dropped his hand and his eyes now looked interested.

“It was all on account of the confinement, Sir. On account of that pane of glass. It was terrible for him, worse than for anybody else, he hadn’t had a pass for two weeks. First they stole his pajamas, and the next week you confined him for trying to help me in the chemistry exam. He was desperate, he
had
to get a pass. Don’t you understand, Sir?”

“No,” Gamboa said. “Not a single word.”

“What I mean is, he was in love, Sir. He kept thinking about this girl. The Slave didn’t have any friends, you’ve got to keep that in mind, he didn’t pal around with anybody. He spent almost three years in the Academy all alone, without talking with anybody. They all bullied him. And he wanted to get a pass so he could see that girl. You can’t imagine the way they treated him, all the time, they stole his things, they took his cigarettes away, they…”

“His cigarettes?” Gamboa asked.

“Everybody in the Academy smokes,” Alberto said aggressively. “A pack each a day. Or more. The officers don’t know a thing about what goes on. Everybody bullied the Slave. I did too. But finally we got to be friends, I was the only one he ever had. He used to tell me all his troubles. They kept making it hell for him just because he was afraid of fighting. And it wasn’t just practical jokes, Lieutenant. They pissed on him while he was sleeping, they cut holes in his uniform so he’d be confined, they spit in his food, they made him get back with the last ones to fall in even though he was the first one there.”

“Who did all this?” Gamboa asked.

“Everybody, Sir.”

“Calm down a little, Cadet. Explain it in order.”

“He wasn’t a bad guy,” Alberto said, interrupting him.

“The only thing he hated was the confinement. When he couldn’t get a pass he almost went wild. He didn’t get a pass for a whole month. And the girl didn’t write to him even once. I treated him like dirt myself, Lieutenant. I admit it.”

“Speak slower,” the lieutenant said. “Try to get a grip on yourself, Cadet.”

“Yes, Sir. Do you remember when you confined him for giving me the answers in the exam? He had a date to take the girl to the movies. He asked me to go to her house and explain. I double-crossed him. She’s my girl friend now.”

“Ah,” Gamboa said. “I’m beginning to understand.”

“He didn’t know anything about it,” Alberto said. “He went crazy when he couldn’t get out to see her. He wanted to find out why she didn’t write to him. The confinement could’ve lasted for months, I mean about the windowpane. They’d never find out it was Cava, the officers never find out about anything if we don’t want them to, Lieutenant. And he wasn’t like the rest of us, he never dared to jump over the wall.”

“What did you say?”

“Everybody jumps over the wall. Even the Dogs. There isn’t a night that somebody doesn’t do it. But not the Slave, Lieutenant, he never did it even once. So that’s why he went to Huarina, I mean Lt. Huarina, and told him about Cava. Not because he was a squealer. Just because he had to get a pass. And the Circle found out about it, I’m positive they knew who it was.”

“What’s this about the Circle?” Gamboa asked.

“They’re four cadets in the section, Sir. I mean three, Cava’s gone now. They steal exams and uniforms and then sell them. They’ve also got a steady business going, and they sell everything, cigarettes, liquor, at double the price.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Pisco and beer, Lieutenant. Didn’t I tell you the officers don’t know what’s going on? The cadets drink more in the Academy than they do when they’re on pass. At night, and sometimes even during recess. When the Circle heard that Cava got caught, they were furious. But Arana wasn’t a squealer, we’ve never had squealers in the barracks. That’s why they killed him, for revenge.”

“Who killed him?”

“The Jaguar, Sir, the leader. The other two, Curly and the Boa, they’re a couple of animals all right, but they wouldn’t’ve killed him. I know it was the Jaguar.”