Disconcerted, the twins looked at each other, grew serious, tried to smile, but without success, became exasperated.
“Don’t take it like that,” Miki said at last, taking his little finger out of his mouth and patting him on the arm. “We’re all gentlemen here, uncle.”
“We’d never lay a hand on you,” Escobita declared in alarm. “We love you, uncle, even though you don’t believe it. In spite of how badly you’ve behaved with us by signing that filthy paper.”
“Let me finish,” Rigoberto said, pacifying them, moving his hands. “In spite of my fear, if the judge asks me to testify, I’ll tell him the truth. That Ismael made the decision to marry knowing perfectly well what he was doing. That he isn’t doddering, or demented, and didn’t let himself be bamboozled by Armida or anyone else. Because your father is still more alert than the two of you put together. That’s the absolute truth, nephew.”
Another dense, thorny silence fell in the room. Outside, the clouds had turned black, and in the distance, on the ocean’s horizon, there were electric shafts that might have been a ship’s reflectors or the lightning bolts of a storm. Rigoberto felt the tumult in his chest. The twins were still ashen and looked at him in a way, he told himself, that meant they were making a great effort not to attack him and beat him to a pulp. “You did me no favor at all when you got me involved in this, Ismael,” he thought.
Escobita was the first to speak. He lowered his voice, as if he were going to tell Rigoberto a secret, and stared into his eyes with a look that flashed with contempt.
“Did my papa pay you for this? How much did he pay you, uncle, if you don’t mind my asking?”
The question took Rigoberto so much by surprise that he was left openmouthed.
“Don’t take the question the wrong way,” said Miki, trying to smooth things over, lowering his voice as well and gesturing to pacify him. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed, everybody has his needs. Escobita asked you this since, if it’s a question of money, we’re also prepared to reward you. Because, to tell the truth, we need you, uncle.”
“We need you to go before the judge and state that you signed as a witness under pressure and threats,” Escobita explained. “If you and Narciso testify to that, everything will move much faster and the marriage will be annulled one two three. Obviously we’re prepared to compensate you, uncle. And generously.”
“Services are paid for and we know very well what kind of world we live in,” Miki added. “With absolute discretion, of course.”
“Besides, you’ll be doing my papa a great favor, uncle. The poor man must be desperate now, not knowing how to escape the trap he fell into in a moment of weakness. We’ll get him out of the mess and in the end he’ll thank us, you’ll see.”
Rigoberto listened, not blinking or moving, petrified in his seat, as if lost in wise reflection. The twins waited anxiously for his answer. The silence lasted close to a minute. In the distance the knife grinder’s penny whistle sounded faintly from time to time.
“I’m going to ask the two of you to leave this house and never set foot in here again,” Don Rigoberto said at last, with the same serenity he had maintained throughout. “The truth is you’re worse than I thought, boys. And if there’s anyone who knows you well it’s me, ever since you were in short pants.”
“You’re offending us,” said Miki. “Don’t make a mistake, uncle. We respect your gray hairs, but only so far.”
“We won’t let this stand,” declared Escobita, banging the table. “You have everything to lose, just so you know. Even your retirement is on the table.”
“Don’t forget who’s going to own the company as soon as the crazy old coot kicks the bucket,” Miki threatened.
“I asked you to leave,” said Rigoberto, standing and pointing at the door. “And above all, don’t show up here again. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Do you think you’re going to throw us out of your house just like that, you lousy hustler?” said Escobita, standing as well and clenching his fists.
“Shut up,” his brother cut him off, holding him by the arm. “Things can’t degenerate into a fight. Apologize to Uncle Rigoberto for insulting him, Escobita.”
“It’s not necessary. It’s enough if the two of you leave and don’t come back,” said Rigoberto.
“He’s the one who’s offended us, Miki. He’s throwing us out of his house like two mangy dogs. Or maybe you didn’t hear him.”
“Apologize, damn it,” ordered Miki, getting to his feet as well. “Right now. Beg his pardon.”
“All right.” Escobita gave in, trembling like a leaf. “I beg your pardon for what I said to you, uncle.”
“You’re forgiven,” Rigoberto agreed. “This conversation is over. Thank you for your visit, boys. Goodbye.”
“We’ll talk again when we’re calmer,” said Miki in farewell. “I’m sorry it ended this way, Uncle Rigoberto. We wanted to reach a friendly understanding with you. In view of your inflexibility, we’ll have to take this to court.”
“This won’t end well for you, and I tell you that from the heart because you’ll be sorry,” said Escobita. “So you’d better think it over.”
“Let’s go, brother, and just shut up.” Miki took his brother’s arm and dragged him to the front door.
As soon as the twins left the house, Rigoberto saw Lucrecia and Justiniana come into the room, alarmed expressions on their faces. The maid held a rolling pin like a deadly weapon.
“We heard everything,” said Lucrecia, grasping her husband’s arm. “If they’d done anything, we were ready to burst in and attack those hyenas.”
“Ah, is that what the rolling pin’s for?” Rigoberto asked, and Justiniana nodded, very seriously, swinging her improvised cudgel in the air.
“I had the poker from the fireplace in my hand,” said Lucrecia. “We would have scratched out those hoodlums’ eyes, I swear it, love.”
“I behaved rather well, didn’t I?” Rigoberto threw out his chest. “I didn’t let that pair of morons intimidate me for a moment.”
“You behaved like a great man,” said Lucrecia. “And this time, at least, intelligence defeated brute force.”
“Like a real man, señor,” Justiniana echoed Lucrecia.
“Not a word about any of this to Fonchito,” Rigoberto ordered. “The boy has enough headaches already.”
The women agreed and suddenly, at the same time, all three burst into laughter.
IX
Six days after El Tiempo published Don Felícito Yanaqué’s second notice (anonymous, unlike his first), the kidnappers still hadn’t given any signs of life. And Sergeant Lituma and Captain Silva, in spite of all their efforts, had found no trace of Mabel. The kidnapping hadn’t yet reached the press, and Captain Silva said this kind of miracle couldn’t last; given the interest that the case of the owner of Narihualá Transport had awakened all over Piura, it was impossible for an event this important not to soon be front-page news in the papers and all over radio and television. Any day now, everything would become public knowledge, and Colonel Rascachucha would have another extraordinary temper tantrum complete with violent shouting, cursing, and foot-stamping.
Lituma knew his boss well enough to know how upset the chief was, even though he didn’t talk about it, simulated certainty, and continued to make his usual cynical, vulgar comments. No doubt he was wondering, as Lituma was, whether the spider gang hadn’t gone too far and Don Felícito’s mistress, that cute little brunette, wasn’t dead and buried in some garbage dump on the outskirts of town. Each time they met with the trucker, who was being consumed by this misfortune, the sergeant and captain were affected by the dark circles under his eyes, the tremor in his hands, and how his voice would break off in the middle of a phrase; he’d sit there dazed and mute, looking in terror at nothing, his watery eyes subject to fits of frantic blinking. “He could have a heart attack at any time and we’d have a stiff on our hands,” Lituma thought fearfully. His boss was smoking twice as many cigarettes as usual, clenching the butts between his teeth and biting them, something he did only in times of extreme stress.