The Blue Line (14 page)

Julia became unsteady on her feet and had to lie down. Her head was spinning.

Monday came. The silence in the courtyard at Castelar was absolute. Even Sosa was no longer on duty. The stench from the cells across the corridor was becoming unbearable. When the prisoners pissed, they directed the urine outside their cells. Some couldn't hold their bowels any longer and piled up their excrement in the hope it would be cleaned away.

At dawn El Cabo Pavor's voice was heard in the distance. He turned a deaf ear to the prisoners' pleas for water and went away. It was noon before he returned to take them to the toilet.

At five in the afternoon, a commotion shook the building. The sound of boots running through the courtyard sent the two women into a panic.

Feeling increasingly ill, Julia couldn't control the spasms that shook her. She went to throw up in the toilet just as she heard the key turning in the lock.

Bending over the toilet, she saw her face reflected in the water together with the overhead skylight. Exactly like Mama Fina had described it. The stream of bile and blood she vomited reminded her that she was also pregnant or that maybe she wasn't any longer.

She turned around as El Cabo Pavor entered the cell. He laid into her with the butt of his rifle because she had forgotten to wear her blindfold. With his pockmarked face he looked like a bloated toad. “We haven't finished with you, Maoist whore. You'll die here like a dog.”

Julia instinctively crouched down and curled into a ball to avoid the blows.

The noise of an engine stopped El Cabo Pavor in his tracks. The main gate clanked open. The whole building seemed to go into a state of frenzied agitation. A voice shouted, giving the order to fall into formation. The officer rushed out, forgetting to shut the cell door.

Julia knew she had only a few minutes.

THE ESCAPE

Austral Winter

1976

S
he spun around and raced over to Adriana, who was huddled at the other end of the cell, her face covered. Julia ripped the hood off her face and tried to pull her to standing. The teenager resisted with all her might, eyes shut in anticipation of a blow.

“They're coming back to get us,” she whimpered.

“We won't be here when they do. Hurry, we've got three minutes!”

Julia's confidence jolted Adriana into action. She jumped up, ready to run. Julia made sure the corridor was empty and went straight to the fourth cell. Adriana understood and tried to unbolt the others, her hands stiff with panic. All the doors were padlocked. Julia, however, had no difficulty sliding open the latch and opening the metal door of cell four. At the same
time, their eyes fell on the body that lay there. His face was disfigured, his nose a mass of blood. Julia recognized Theo's eyes in the swollen flesh.

“Too bad, we'll just have to drag him,” Julia said. “We're out of time.”

Theo tried to speak, but all that came out of his broken jaw was a gurgle. He made a superhuman effort to stand up, holding on as best as he could to the two women. They didn't have too much trouble getting him out of the cell; he was nothing but skin and bones.

The corridor was still empty, and the door at the end was ajar. Julia was counting backward mechanically in her head. Without knowing why, she turned and rebolted the cell door while Adriana pulled Theo along toward the exit. Theo's breath made a whistling sound. Every movement aggravated his wounds.

They soon reached the door to the courtyard. Julia could feel her hair standing on end in fear. She took a deep breath and sneaked a peek outside. The coast was clear. They crept along the wall under the rusty spiral staircase and reached the courtyard. There were three police vans lined up between them and the large outer compound where the garrison was being drilled.

An officer wearing dress uniform and all his stripes was barking orders at the troops standing to attention. He was striding up and down the ranks inspecting each of his men. He was the only one who might see them. For a brief moment Julia
thought he had, and a surge of adrenaline glued her to the spot. But the man continued on at a steady pace without hesitating. The troops had their backs turned.

In two minutes' time, El Cabo Pavor would be back. They would have to walk the length of the police station and the guardroom to reach the main gate. They had only a slim chance of slipping behind the vans without being spotted. Seizing the opportunity at once, Julia gestured to Adriana to move forward. They bent down instinctively so they could drag Theo along with them. They stole silently behind the convoy and passed safely under the guardroom windows. The rusty main gate was open, blocked by one of the vans.

Looking outside, Julia became suddenly aware of her fear. Her breath came in jerks; her eyes were wide. But there was no time to think about it. The street was deserted. Julia suppressed the urge to run and walked out, holding Theo around the waist to support him. Adriana did the same. They had to get out of sight as soon as possible. They walked up the right-hand side of the street, then crossed and turned left at the first intersection. As soon as they were out of range, the girls quickened their step, almost breaking into a run. Adriana, the stronger of the two, was bearing nearly all of Theo's weight, since Julia was ready to collapse at every step. They didn't meet a soul. It was as if the city were under curfew again. All around them curtains were drawn and shutters closed.

Adriana forced her two companions to keep pace. The farther they got from Castelar, the more the young girl feared
recapture. The empty sidewalks provided no reassurance. Julia was struggling to continue. Hearing the noise of an approaching engine, Adriana made them jump behind a low wall. They just managed to hide in the bushes of a small garden before a police car drove by, combing the neighborhood. A powerful beam of light swept the path and played over their heads, brushing past them without giving them away. The car moved off.

The garden, full of bracken and construction waste, belonged to a house that appeared to be abandoned. Adriana wanted to go inside. She had no trouble finding a way in: two of the ground-floor windows were broken. The house was in a sorry state. All the furniture had been overturned. They bumped into it as they ventured through unlit rooms, eventually huddling in the dark under a large staircase in the hope that the police would give up searching this area.

Once they had regained some strength, Adriana and Julia plucked up the courage to explore. Night had fallen, and moonlight filtered into the house. Fumbling around in one of the upstairs rooms, they found some clothes and shoes for Theo to wear. They were too big for him but even so would make him less conspicuous.

In the basement they found a few dirty clothes in what must have been the laundry room and brought them back up. The rest of the house had been ransacked.

“It's the
milicos
,” Adriana said. “They did the same at my place.”

“You never told me why you were arrested.”

“They wanted to get their hands on my brother, but they only found me. So they took me to Castelar. I'll have to let my family know I'm out, so my brother doesn't give himself up. My parents are old. They won't survive without him.”

“You can't do that,” Julia whispered. “They'll flood your neighborhood full of informers, and your parents' phone must already be bugged by now. They'll be waiting for us to contact our families. You have to disappear completely. Like a mole.”

“But I have to let them know!”

“You'll put them at too great a risk. They'll kill all of you. . . . We have to split up. We'll have a better chance of staying alive if we're not together.”

“No way! You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Listen to me,” Julia ordered. “Theo and I couldn't have escaped without you. Now you have to keep going and succeed. We're not only fleeing the government and the military. We're running from El Loco, El Cabo Pavor. . . . This is a manhunt. Do you understand?”

Adriana huddled as close as possible to Julia.

“I'll leave before daybreak,” Julia continued. “I'm feeling stronger now; I'll be able to find my way. You're going to stay here with Theo until he can walk. Then you go to La Boca. Go to San Juan Evangelista church and ask for Father Miguel. Remember what I said: La Boca, San Juan Evangelista, Father Miguel.”

Adriana repeated: “San Juan Evangelista, Father Miguel.”

“Don't take Theo when you go to see him. It could arouse suspicion. Go alone, and ask him to hear your confession. Are you with me?”

“Yes, Julia.”

“Good. Tell Father Miguel that Julia d'Annunzio, the granddaughter of Josefina d'Annunzio, sent you. He'll ask you for dates. Give him my birth date, August 6, 1957, and Mama Fina's, September 1, 1900. You have to learn those dates by heart; it's important. Remember: Mama Fina was born at the turn of the century.”

“September 1, 1900, and August 6, 1957. I won't forget,” Adriana promised.

“Good. Father Miguel will give you an envelope that Mama Fina left for me. There'll be money inside. We'll need it to leave Argentina.”

“Leave Argentina?”

“Unless you want to stay behind and wait for El Cabo Pavor or El Loco to get their hands on you.”

Adriana shrank into herself.

“Take the money and go to the port. Look for the captain of the
Donizetti
. It's an ocean liner making its final crossing. The captain's name is Enzo Torricelli. Everyone knows where to find him. Tell him that Mama Fina's children are ready to leave. Follow his instructions. You'll have to find a way to keep Theo hidden while you go to the church and the port. Don't walk around on your own in the streets or at the port—wait until it's busy. I'll join you the day after tomorrow. I'll go
straight to the captain and find you on the ship. If for some reason I don't turn up, don't wait for me. You'll have to leave with Theo and get out of Buenos Aires.”

Adriana nodded, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“One last thing. Don't go home. Don't go to Theo's house. Don't talk to anyone, on the phone or in the street. Don't ask for help; don't answer if anyone speaks to you. Go straight to the church, then to the port. Don't use public transport: no metro, no buses, no taxis.”

Adriana acquiesced.

Close by, Theo was burning up with fever, tossing and turning uncontrollably in the grip of a nightmare. He was delirious and kept calling out El Diablo's name. Julia wished she could clean his wounds but didn't want to turn on a faucet, for fear of activating the meter and unintentionally drawing attention to their presence. She huddled close to him for a long moment, to warm him and to give herself the strength to leave.

“I'll meet you on the ship,” she whispered in his ear.

Theo seemed to calm down at the sound of her voice. He didn't open his eyes, but he slipped his fingers through Julia's.

THE TRAP

Austral Winter

1976

J
ulia slipped out of the house like a cat. It was cold, but she had found a man's sweatshirt with a hood to protect her from the weather and any prying eyes. She stayed close to walls, keeping to the shadows where possible, and walked silently along the asphalt. She continued in the same direction for over an hour, hands in pockets and head down, with no real point of reference, her only objective being to get away from Castelar. The sun was already rising above the rooftops when she heard the hum of turbines. Planes were taking off and landing somewhere ahead of her, to the left.

She shuddered. It could only be Morón Air Base. So she hadn't made much progress and wasn't really heading in the right direction. She quickened her pace, feeling the nausea return. She couldn't get El Loco's words out of her head, the
ones he'd screamed into her ear as she lay on the metal bed, over the background music that was now engraved in her memory. She rubbed nervously at her ears to cleanse herself of his presence. El Loco had talked about El Diablo. And Theo had spoken El Diablo's name aloud in his nightmares. El Loco had told her El Diablo would push her out of an air force plane into emptiness, above the Río de la Plata. He would hold on to her for a moment to hear her beg, then let go, and her body, her name, and her entire existence would disappear for all time, swallowed up by the dark waters of the estuary. Julia didn't know what she was more afraid of: being hooked up to
la máquina
again or being thrown alive from an airplane into the sea.

Julia was so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed that the streets were now crowded with passersby. She snapped back to reality as she reached a neighborhood that was all too familiar, where the townhouses had slender windows and crenellated roofs. She slipped through the narrow streets she knew only too well, trying to get out of Liniers as quickly as possible and to avoid her parents' house at all costs. Only then did she feel mistress of her fate.

Julia kept walking all day long, steering clear of bus stops, metro stations, and busy streets, which would be swarming with informers. She avoided the colorful neighborhood of La Boca and headed north instead, past the handsome buildings and along the leafy avenues of the diplomatic quarter. She was careful to bypass Plaza de la Constitución and the station, with their crowds of bystanders.

Night had fallen by the time Julia reached Villa 31. Her feet were sore and swollen, but they were the least painful part of her body. Setting foot on the dirt path that led into the slum, she felt as if she'd finally escaped enemy territory. The older women were still outside, and a few kids were kicking a punctured football under a lone streetlight. A few blocks farther up, a van swayed as it straddled a dusty road punctured with deep potholes. Julia made swift work of the labyrinthine alleyways and went straight to Señora Pilar's house.

She knocked tentatively on the door. It gave way with a creak. Julia poked her head inside and called out softly. She was met by silence. The house was empty. Totally empty.

Julia felt like running away. This room without furniture, a dusty floor all that remained, this silence, this door left open—it was all so different from what she had expected.
Maybe she's dead; maybe she's gone to live somewhere else
. Julia threw a glance over her shoulder. But there was the familiar distant hubbub of the city, the familiar youths smoking on street corners, the familiar women sitting outside on chairs leaned back against doors, sweaters wrapped tight around their chests, the familiar stale, humid air.

The normality of it all reassured her. She pushed open the door and went in to sit down. She needed a roof, a rest, a moment to catch her breath. All of a sudden, it was as if she collapsed inwardly. Tormented by thirst, hunger scalding her stomach, she fell asleep propped up in a corner, her legs sticking out in front of her.

The shouts, the screams, the blows to her ribs, her shoulder blades, her skull, they were all part of a forgotten dream, a different world.

—

And yet they kept pulling her insistently toward a hot, intense, cruel, unbearable light. She opened her eyes to find herself in a reality more devastating than her worst nightmare.

She was tied up and blindfolded again, in a room, a bedroom. The upstairs bedroom? Was it El Loco hitting her where she was already wounded, on her nose, ribs, shoulder blades, and head? Was she back on the wire mesh bed, hooked up to
la máquina
?

“Thought you'd sneak away quietly, did you, you Bolshevik bitch? Where were you going? Who were you planning to kill? When's your next attack? We're stronger than the lot of you! You're dead; you don't exist anymore. But before you go to join your friends at the bottom of the Río de la Plata, you'll talk, you filthy Trotska!”

It wasn't El Loco. She tried to hold out, to think clearly. She remembered walking—she had gone through Parque Avellaneda and Flores and reached San Telmo. She remembered her route. She was sure of it. Yes, the old women in Villa 31. She had gotten to Señora Pilar's house. She didn't know what had happened after that. Was it a trap? How long had she been in their clutches? What about Theo and Adriana?

The blows rained down incessantly, all over her body. She
preferred this to
el submarino
. She would rather suffer thousands of blows than suffocate, millions of blows than face
la máquina
again.

“Names, give us the names! Who was waiting for you in Retiro? Who was your contact? Where are the guns? Where are you hiding the ammunition?”

The man held her head and dealt her a sharp blow to the hollow of her ear with the knuckles of his right hand. Julia felt the world spin. She couldn't take any more. She had to end this right now, push the man over the edge, and find release in death.

She regained consciousness with the feeling of coming up from a bottomless well, unable to breathe. There was a plastic bag over her head; it was sticking to her face like a suction cup. She could feel herself going mad. She had to die soon. But the man was splashing her with a substance that sizzled as it touched her skin. He was burning her alive while simultaneously beating time to an aria.

Julia lost all control. Unable to die, she shouted out names, dates, and places, everything she kept in her memory, swept along in a paraphrenic hallucination. All the names, all too distant, all already dead, all the fruit of delirium. In her madness Julia clung to a thread, a strained, secret voice from the other side of the mirror, in a world beyond her psychosis, a voice as sharp as a sting: Theo's voice.

When the man drew a razor blade across her body and began to peel the skin back, magnifying her torment, she
finally passed beyond the limits of what she could endure. Her voice was an endless piercing wail. There was nothing left but death. She dreamed she was thrown from a plane into emptiness, and the idea of finally escaping him consumed her as much as her suffering. But death did not come. Merciless, the man subjected her to life.

Then, once again, there was nothingness.

She was sure she was dead, because she could no longer feel her body. Except for the pain, which was now part of her being, and not confined to any particular part of her anatomy. The only thing that lived in her was pain. And, perhaps, that imperceptible quiver in the pit of her belly, like a butterfly fluttering its wings, still clinging to her somehow. Through her nightmare Julia recognized Paola's distant voice. Then there was renewed absence.

—

She came to several days later, in the very same cell she had escaped from. The same toilet at the end, the same skylight above it. Unable to move, she cried with rage, trying to drink the tears to quench her thirst. For weeks she cried at the realization that she was still there, alive, that she still had a body they could torture.

—

“There's some good news,” she heard Paola say one day.

Julia didn't understand.

“El Loco has been transferred. We don't know where to exactly, but the guards think he's now in charge of Mansión Seré.”

For the first time since her return, and in spite of herself, words made sense to Julia.

Mansión Seré was a few minutes away from Castelar Police Station. All the members of the organization knew that the air force had turned it into a secret interrogation center. Julia remembered passing it once. It was a curious late-nineteenth-century European-style building planted at the end of a park. The carved stone facade framed large arched windows on the first floor. Wrought-iron balconies decorated the second floor, and the external walls were clad with geometric redbrick shapes, which produced an odd overall effect.

The building had been uninhabited for a long time, and with its front entrance on the corner situated between two wings, it looked like the prow of a ghost ship. Julia recalled once hearing that it had been used for witchcraft ceremonies and that the house was cursed. Whatever the truth, people gave it a wide berth.

Julia shuddered. A madman in a haunted house. Only Paola could think it was good news.

“Have you heard anything about the others?” Julia asked with difficulty.

Paola paused for a moment, taken by surprise. When she answered, she chose her words carefully: “No, there's no news of Adriana. But I have to tell you about someone else.”

Instinctively Julia slowed her breathing. She was afraid she would learn Theo was dead.

“It's about your friend Rosa. . . . After you escaped, El Loco moved on to her. She was already delirious when they took her out of here, but when she came back . . . Even that madman's music couldn't drown out her screams. She screamed so hard she lost the use of her vocal cords. And then she was transferred. I don't think she'll survive.”

Julia was crying. She was ashamed of her unmentionable sense of relief.