“Didn’t Ezcurra do anything?” I asked.
Guido, Leticia, Iturraspe and even Nene Larrieu looked at each other for a few seconds before one of them dared to reply. Only Licho, who thinks Ezcurra has a wife and children in Casilda, stayed out of it. It was Leticia who finally plucked up the courage.
“Doña Isadora swore blind that after they brought Ezcurra out with legs so weak they had to carry by the armpits she found a used syringe in the bin liner which she’d changed at the start of her shift and an almost empty phial of some injectable tranquilliser or other on the steel table.”
“JUST AS WELL the call from the doc got to us before news of the escape,” ex-police corporal Carmen Sayago sighs with relief twenty years after the event. “The Super who’d spent the night awake at headquarters was there never seen him like that I hadn’t motherfuckers he was saying you want to ruin my career you’re doing this to screw me all blue in the face like inside the car screaming put the fear of God into you and Greco in that little arse-licking voice of his don’t get upset Superintendent sir”—Carmen Sayago softens his voice like a woman’s while quoting—“Dr Lugozzi’s assured us everything’s under control, and the Super was all Arielito this and Arielito that when he was in a good mood but when he flew off the handle shut it the wagons were your idea if he escapes you can do the explaining to the milicos in Rosario now and we’ll see if they swallow yer poncing about had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself laughing I swear, first time I’d seen him give Greco a piece of his mind and in front of his subordinates too I reckon that was when Greco started harbouring a grudge against me probably kicked me out the force ’cause I was a witness to his humiliation didn’t he. ’Cause I never did a thing to him to make him treat me like that honest I didn’t a grudge he’s got all ’cause I was faithful to Superintendent Neri happens a lot that does one on his way down another on his way up and the new one gets rid of all the last guy’s men so he can bring in his friends and to justify it they invent some cock-and-bull story about err you orchestrating some malicious intent and then on top of getting rid of you they build a reputation for this that and the other and nobody’ll hire you for anything after that. And my old man my old man if Neri’d of been there he’d of gone and talked to him but Greco came along when my old man was retired and then all the respect he’d earned in thirty years thirty years of service like Greco gave a shit. Couldn’t give a shit sir, wouldn’t even’ve seen him he wouldn’t, and me when Neri give him a dressing down I didn’t laugh at all didn’t even look at him but I ended up getting it in the neck just ’cause I was around, ’cause you should of seen his face white with rage he used to go a colour like candlewax, between his face and the Superintendent’s made you want to crawl under the seat it did, good thing the journey was short just five blocks and we stowed the three patrol cars and marched into the little ward in a posse guns out. Dr Lugozzi put his hands up like in one of them cowboy films and yelled Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’ve already subdued him! And later when we was carrying the rag doll he says to the Super Is there a reward for capturing him? And the Super goes Go to bed Doctor and pretend it was all a dream will you. Nene, ’nother shot of caña over here!” yells the ex-corporal, and then to me, half brash half snide, says, “If you’re still buying that is Chief.”
“Go ahead,” I reply without returning his smile.
“Such a pleasure being amongst mates,” he says and goes on. “On the way back I went in the car with Chacón and this first corporal who they said was a fucking cocksucker ’cause nobody never saw him with a bird, which ain’t got nothing to do with nothing just popped into my head, where was I oh when we got there they’d already got him out the car and were shoving him along he’d take two steps and fall over ’cause of the jab the doc gave him must of been, while the sergeant went off to the wagons like I told you and gave Rodríguez the thrashing of his life, the rest of us followed the Super and the Subsuper who steered him towards the train station, the Super talking to him all the time, talking to him, saying You know why we’ve come to this? Eh? ’Cause you’re a dickhead who can’t listen when he’s spoken to. How many ways did I try and warn you about what was coming? What? Thought I wouldn’t dare, thought I didn’t have the balls? Gave you every opportunity I did, but not him, His Lordship had to get all cocky didn’t he, show everybody he’s a big man here in town, an untouchable, the Super said into his ear, and slapped him every time he said it: Untouchable are you? See how I can touch you. Untouchable? You ask me he didn’t understand a thing any more except the punches, could barely put one leg in front of the other, all wobbly like this like spastic like a flan and every time he’d fall over Neri or Greco’d pick him up by the scruff of the neck. It’d started getting light so we turned off the torches and our clothes were soaking with dew. I thought we were going to do it at the Federal Shooting Range, it looked as good a place as any, but before we went through the gate we turned right and headed for the silos, know where I mean? Down where the old mill used to be?”
“The one Ezcurra’s grandfather burnt down,” I nod.
“The very one and … up for another little drinkie I am, if it’s no skin off the present company’s nose eh, but we never got as far as the mill, we stopped at this corrugated-iron shed, isn’t there any more but in them days—”
“The Council slaughterhouse,” Guido remarks.
“The very one,” nods ex-corporal Sayago with an oily grin. “That was where the Super’d chosen.”
“AN IDEA OF YOUR GRANDFATHER’S to sell people cheaper meat,” Guido will remark as we stroll down a little track barely visible through the weeds. “They’d put a live cow in there and stick a knife between two shoulder vertebrae with everyone watching, and it would go sprawling, both eyes and all four legs wide open, without even so much as a moo. Then they’d slit its throat and stick the buckets under for the blood and start carving it up before the poor animal was dead. The butchers took the best cuts, which they’d reserved in advance, and when they were done, the second-in-line paupers’d move in. They used to pick up the last bones for a few cents, lots of families’d’ve starved otherwise I tell you. I saw it a couple of times, and I swear within the hour there was nothing left of the cow except a few bloodstains on the tiles. Look, here they are — he’ll point to some fragments of tiles, with contrasting colours and designs like a Roman mosaic, visible here and there through the undergrowth and the grass, no doubt salvaged from the remains of the various demolitions piling up in the Council yard. He never threw anything away my grandfather didn’t. “The roof and walls were made of corrugated iron”—Guido presses on with his guided tour—“and over here were some gutters — look, there’s one here — that drained the blood into the ditch — the rain washed it away into the lagoon. This ditch was the best place for worms for miles around. To go fishing. Remember?”
“Do I!” I reply. “Caught an eel this big once,” I’d say, measuring out half a metre with my palms. “I’ll never forget it.”