“How? Old Turk is like the tomb. Nothing comes out of there, you know that,” said Ilídio.
“Naturally Old Turk would never open his trap. But the cops will have an easy time figuring out it was you who ordered the inspector killed.”
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“It bothers us. Aniceto and I are here representing the other colleagues, too. And we want to offer you compensation. Zé do Carmo when he died left no heirs, and his sites will be redistributed. The ones that border on your sites will go to you.”
Ilídio’s response was slow in coming. Aniceto was right, every man has his price, and his was Zé do Carmo’s sites.
“I’ll do what you want. But that son of a bitch cop is gonna stay in my sights. He’ll get what’s coming to him,” said Ilídio, aware the others knew he was only bluffing with those threats.
“Let Old Turk know immediately, before he takes action,” warned Eusébio de Andrade as he left.
After almost two hours Ilídio managed to get the long-distance call through to Caxambu.
“He’s gone to Rio de Janeiro,” Old Turk’s mother said.
Ilídio sent an emissary to look for him where Old Turk normally stayed, a two-story house on Rua Salvador de Sá. The emissary returned saying that Old Turk hadn’t shown up there for a long time.
Ilídio thought about the betting sites he would inherit from the estate of Zé do Carmo and how much that would represent in his daily take. He yelled to Maneco, his second in command, “I have to find that man!”
Maneco reminded Ilídio that it was Sunday, and the betting sites weren’t in operation. But the next day, with every site in the city alerted, it would be “a piece of cake to find Old Turk.”
AT NOON THAT SUNDAY, Inspector Mattos went on duty. He needed to put his turbulent thoughts in order. He straightened the gauze swathing his hand. He thought about Alice’s visit, about the photo of Lieutenant Gregório with the ring. Alice and Gregório were always linked in his musings. The two things were somehow connected.
He read the note on his desk, from headquarters, signed by General Ancora. The note had resulted, apparently, from the meeting of military officers at the Aeronautics Club the Friday before, and had as its purpose calming in some way the indignation shown by those present at that assembly.
“From the first moments in which the deplorable episode of August 5 became known,” said the note, “the Federal Department of Public Safety has made every effort to shed light on the criminal action, by initiating measures to apprehend the individual responsible for the grievous occurrence in which one of the most illustrious officers of the air force, Major Rubens Florentino Vaz, lost his life and the journalist Carlos Lacerda, publisher of the Tribuna da Imprensa, was wounded. In the Second Police District, a task force was immediately established at the same time that the collaboration of the criminal investigation section of the Division of Technical Police was requested.”
The note was long, and Mattos scanned it, looking for the relevant points and skipping what were obvious attempts at persuasion aimed at the military. The cops had succeeded quickly in finding out the identity of the driver Nelson Raimundo de Souza. Commissioner Pastor had gone immediately to Miguel Couto Hospital, where he had entered in contact with the survivor of the assassination attempt, the journalist Carlos Lacerda, to find out in summary form how the attack had occurred. (And Lacerda’s son, young Sérgio, why hadn’t Pastor spoken with him? Pastor was a good police officer.) At approximately three a.m. the cab driver Nelson Raimundo de Souza had appeared at the Fourth Precinct, in Catete, from which he had been remanded to the Second and submitted to the initial questioning. Nelson Raimundo had said he could recognize the person he’d driven in his car, and that as he passed the corner of Avenida Calógeras and Avenida Beira Mar, he had heard an odd noise that may have been an object being thrown out by his passenger. An airline worker had seen a beggar pick up the object. On Friday, the sixth, Nelson Raimundo had been taken to the Military Police. There, questioned by Colonel Adyl, whom the air force secretary had chosen to monitor the inquiry, as Pastor had said in the telephone call he had made late on the night of the fifth, Nelson Raimundo had reiterated what he had told the cops earlier. On Saturday, while he, Mattos, was in bed with Salete, Nelson Raimundo had been questioned by Captain João Ferreira Neves, of the Military Police, with the acquiescence of Commissioner Pastor, with whom he’d been a classmate in a course at the Police Academy. (They were sparing Pastor, a proud man who must be suffering because of all that, from embarrassment.) Then Nelson Raimundo had changed his story (had he been subjected to violence?) and confessed that he had taken two men to the locale, one of them Climerio Euribes de Almeida, who the note said was a police investigator. Afterwards Nelson Raimundo had confirmed these statements in the presence of Colonel Adyl, the prosecutor Cordeiro Guerra, and Commissioner Pastor. To show that the high authorities were truly dedicated to unearthing the facts of the attack, the note mentioned those who had come to the Military Police barracks to hear Nelson Raimundo’s confession: the head of the Department of Public Safety, General Ancora; the secretary of the air force, Nero Moura; and the secretary of justice, Tancredo Neves. The two secretaries had then gone to the Catete Palace, where General Caiado de Castro was waiting for them. According to the head of the Military Cabinet, the president of the Republic had given orders for a full investigation and had charged the special commissioner of surveillance and apprehension, Hermes Machado, with the arrest of Climerio. Hermes Machado was a competent and respected commissioner. He was vain about the elegance of his attire and the articulation of his speech. One day, in his zeal to understand why people, including himself, went into police work, Mattos had asked Hermes what his reasons were. “I’m with the police because of vanity,” Hermes had replied, “vanity is man’s great motivator.” In Hermes’s case it was the vanity of power. “I can make arrests, something that no judge, no Supreme Court justice, no president of the Republic can do.” Hermes, however, used police power with moderation and refinement. His appointment had been accepted with displeasure by Pastor, even though they had been friends since the time they were both inspectors, and Pastor had served under Machado when he was chief commissioner at the Second Precinct. The note from headquarters ended by advising that Hermes Machado was taking measures to catch Climerio, aided by air force officers named by Colonel Adyl.
Mattos thought about calling Pastor and saying, “Tell those soldiers, the prosecutor, the head of DPS, Tancredo, the whole bunch, to go to hell.” Pastor was surrounded by people who were shit-scared or confused or both. He had all but been removed from the case. What did he have to lose? A shitty job as commissioner? In reality, that day, the superintendent of police, Colonel Paulo Torres, had held a secret meeting with his principal advisers to examine a move that would totally remove Pastor from the case: shifting the Tonelero inquiry to his department and naming Commissioner Silvio Terra, director of the Technical Police, to head the investigations. Considering, however, that the action could be seen, within the government itself, as surrendering to pressure from Lacerda and his group, Silvio Terra’s appointment had not yet been effected.
While Mattos was reading the note from headquarters, Rosalvo had come into the room. From the expression of the inspector’s face, the investigator concluded it was going to be a rough day.
WHENEVER HE VISITED HIS MOTHER in Caxambu, a city famous for its medicinal waters, Old Turk would take advantage of the opportunity to do a twenty-one-day treatment. Three times a day, with rigorous punctuality, he would drink water from different springs “to clear the liver,” as recommended by the old doctor in the city. With the call from Ilídio, Old Turk had to suspend the treatment, much to his displeasure.