That day, Climerio left his hideout and descended the hill to have lunch with his friends. After lunch Climerio and Oscar went to the banana grove, leading two mules with yokes, to haul back the stalks of bananas that Oscar had cut that morning. They had just finished loading the mules when Oscar heard a noise coming from the sky.
“What’s that noise, my friend?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Listen careful. . Over there, what’s that?”
Oscar had never seen a helicopter.
“What’s what?”
“Something strange, way over there. It’s gone.”
As they had only a machete and a sickle with them, Oscar suggested that Climerio take the mules to unload while he stayed behind to cut more bananas.
Climerio took the mules and unloaded the banana stalks in a bin in the rear of Oscar’s house. After this labor, Climerio was very tired and asked Honorina for a cup of coffee.
“It looks like it’s going to be cold today,” Honorina said.
Oscar would cut stalks of green bananas and leave them beside the banana trees. He worked quickly, as he wanted to cut the largest number of stalks possible before nightfall. When the day began to darken, he picked up the sickle and the machete and headed home.
He was walking along a dirt road when he was suddenly surrounded by armed soldiers, some of whom were leading dogs on leashes. Startled, Oscar dropped the sickle and the machete.
“What’s your name?” asked an officer who detached himself from a group of soldiers.
“Oscar, yessir, at your service.”
“Is there a man living in your house?”
“No, sir.”
“Simplício Rodrigues, who runs a store in the village, said your brother-in-law Climerio is staying at your house.”
“Oh, my friend Climerio. Yes, he was here, sir.”
“Your friend is a wanted killer,” said the officer. Two soldiers grabbed Oscar by the arms, one on each side, and the officer ordered the farmer to show where his house was.
Honorina watched the soldiers search her house without saying a word.
“Where’s the man?”
“He ran away,” said Honorina. She said that Climerio had fled half an hour earlier, when he sensed the arrival of the soldiers.
The officer, on his radio, mobilized the remaining groups taking part in the operation.
All the highways in the region were closed off. No vehicle crossed the barriers without being searched, its passengers identified and searched.
Night fell. More and more soldiers and equipment poured into the command post set up in Tinguá.
At ten o’clock that night, operations were suspended and scheduled to resume at five a.m. the following day.
In his flight through the woods toward the cabin on the hillside, Climerio had ripped the blue pants he wore and destroyed his shoes. In the cabin, he took off the torn pants and donned another pair. In place of the destroyed shoes, he put on a pair of clogs. He ate spaghetti and beans heated in the cabin’s wooden stove. Before plunging into the woods he grabbed the.38 revolver, loaded with six bullets, and the fifty thousand cruzeiros delivered to him by Soares at Gregório’s orders.
After running and walking, disoriented, in the darkness that quickly enveloped the forest, lashed and at times injured by tree branches, Climerio, a fat man, sat down, fatigued, by a tree, resting his back against it. He was trembling from fear and cold; he ran his chilled hand over his pockmarked face.
The night was thick, without even moonlight to dissipate, however slightly, the absolute darkness that enveloped him.
seventeen
THAT TUESDAY MORNING, as troops of the army, air force, and navy, supported by planes, helicopters, and military vehicles, closed the circle around Climerio, on the Tinguá mountainside, Colonel Adyl, accompanied by a heavily armed escort, taking prisoner João Valente, second-in-command of the now-defunct personal guard of president Vargas, invaded the Catete Palace and headed for the guards’ former lodgings, where they broke open desk drawers and filing cabinets and apprehended all the private correspondence and other papers of Lieutenant Gregório Fortunato, along with close to three hundred thousand cruzeiros in cash. The mission was fast, lasting only about ten minutes. The invasion would be made public in the Chamber and the Senate, by the opposition, as proof that “the government no longer governed.”
A short time later, the secretary of war was honored by the commander and other officers of the First Cavalry Regiment of the Dragoons of Independence, in the São Cristóvão barracks.
In addition to that homage to Zenóbio, one more was scheduled for that Tuesday. Beginning at 2:30 p.m., black cars carrying high-ranking army chiefs and the upper ranks of officers of the Rio de Janeiro garrison, led by General Odilio Denys, commandant of the Eastern Military Zone, began arriving at the War Office. They were to demonstrate to General Zenóbio his comrades’ solidarity for his decisive action in maintaining the elevated prestige of the army and the nation. Responding to the greeting of General Denys, General Zenóbio said, “Comrades! Trust me, as I trust you!”
IN THE CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES, the majority leader, Capanema, constantly interrupted by asides and clamors of protest from the minority deputies, said that Getúlio’s resignation was not a demand from the people; it was a demand from a political party, the same political party that had tried to prevent his taking office with the celebrated argument of the absolute majority, that had recently attempted to remove him from the Catete by a groundless impeachment. That episode, that exploitation of the death of Major Vaz, was one more step in the struggle begun almost four years ago to remove the president in any way possible, whether by instigating the people, instigating the press, or instigating the armed forces.
From the floor came shouts of “murderer, dictator, criminal,” pronounced against Vargas. Led by members of the UDN, opposition deputies began a chant that echoed loudly in the Chamber: “Res-ig-na-tion! Res-ig-na-tion! Res-ig-na-tion!”
The president of the Republic, Capanema continued amid the hubbub from the floor, could not resign because he needed to defend, for the good of the people, the essential works of his administration and constitutional stability. Capanema reiterated an argument he had used repeatedly. Now he responded to Deputy Bilac Pinto to tell him not to hypothesize the peaceful succession of Vice President Café Filho, not because Capanema lacked confidence in the serene and correct expectation of the armed forces but from fearing and foreseeing that resignation as demanded by a passionate minority against the majority of the people, thrown in the face of the poor, the workers, the laborers, the soldiers, would subvert public order, and be so upsetting to tranquility and order, that the nation from one moment to the next might face a conflagration of disastrous and unpredictable consequences; because, once the spark of revolution was struck, who could any longer assure the preservation of institutions?
SOON AFTER CAPANEMA ENDED HIS SPEECH, Vitor Freitas met with his “group of independents” to relay the information he had received from his “friend in the palace.” What Freitas said was received with surprise and apprehension by the other legislators. According to his palace informant, an emissary from the president, Márcio Alves, had left that day for Minas Gerais, on a secret mission for Vargas, to enlist the support of governor Juscelino Kubitschek for imposition of a state of siege in the country.
Some members of the group doubted the veracity of the information.
“Why didn’t Getúlio choose Capanema or Tancredo for that mission?”
“It would be impossible for either of them to do it secretly,” answered Freitas. “Capanema spoke to General Dutra to get support for Getúlio and everybody knows about it. The choice of Márcio Alves was clever. He’s an intimate friend of Amaral Peixoto and his wife; he’s intelligent, discreet, and loyal to the government. The right person for a delicate mission like that.”