“Why do they wear only white?”
“Black made them look like demons.”
A long minute later a latch bolt slid from its strike plate, then a deadbolt, and another. The door opened and Erin was standing face-to-face with a woman wearing a loose white dress, her face hidden beneath a gauzy white rebozo. Recessed in the folds was a healthy looking young face but the hand that held open the door had only a gnarled foreshortened stump of thumb.
Armenta spoke in rapid Spanish.
— Good evening, Nestra. This woman is my guest. I want to show her some of my accomplishments.
— We’re always happy to see you, Benjamin. We heard that Erin McKenna would be coming and now, look, it is true.
She smiled and told Erin how much she had enjoyed her songs with Los Jaguars and of course the ones she performed solo also.
Erin thanked her in Spanish and the woman held open the door and stepped back to let them in.
The foyer was cool and penumbral, with the late evening light slanting in from a high casement window. The floor was of ceramic tile, white-blossomed roses on blue backgrounds. The woman shut the door behind them, turned the latch bolt and slid the two deadbolts back into place.
Erin could smell faint bleach and lemons. The acoustics eddied sharply here, suggesting high ceilings and open rooms beyond. They went down a hallway lit by electric sconces. Nestra walked ahead of them, then turned to Armenta and nodded and pushed through a wooden door. Erin could see past her to a short hall that opened to a spacious room with walls made of dull green bricks. The door closed and Nestra was gone.
“Thirteen adults and eight children live here,” said Armenta. “A teacher for the children comes. The doctors and nurses. When I was hidden by the lepers they kept me for one week. The only safe way for me to leave was by the ocean. I was placed on a banana boat returning to Salvador with a load of corn and oranges. I slept on deck and was bitten by a bat, but I did not get sick. An eyelash viper hidden in the bananas bit me on the finger, but I did not die. I had pain. The water made me sick. I stayed in Salvador for almost a year. Eleven months, thirteen days. You never forget such things. Anya. I thought only of her, but I did what I had to do to survive. I had no children then. I made friends there and these friends had hundreds of American guns left over from their civil war. The military was disbanded out of fear they would try to rule the country. Thousands of guns. And these, of course, were badly needed in Mexico. In those days there was no Gulf Cartel. We were young and we had very little money. But I was able to buy the guns on credit from my friends. Because of trust. I repaid them very generously.”
“Rags to riches.”
“Rags? I don’t understand.”
“From poverty to riches.”
“That should be part of what you write about me.”
“Except that I won’t.”
“No. Sadly.” He ran a hand through his tangle of gray-black hair and looked at her with that beaten expression. But she caught the mischief in his eyes and she wanted to strike him.
They stepped into the great room. It had the high ceiling that Erin had sensed from the foyer, and a large open fireplace filled not with flames but with a display of cut tropical flowers. An enormous chandelier with electric candles hung from the center of a domed ceiling ringed with life-sized paintings of the Saints, each peering down from his or her own bower.
Erin felt observed. She saw that two of the walls were made of the same unattractive dull green bricks she’d seen in Nestra’s suite and she realized they were not walls at all but bundles of cash stacked against the walls. Ten feet high, she guessed. Twelve?
Next to the fireplace was a very large-screen television playing Mexican futbol. There were three men watching the game and when they sensed that visitors had entered the room they pulled their white balaclavas over their heads then turned to look at them. They rose crookedly and bowed to Armenta and he to them.
— How are our Red Wolves doing?
— It is tied at two, answered one of them.
— Please relax. I will be showing Mrs. McKenna some of what I have collected.
— Nice to meet you.
— It is my pleasure to meet you, she said.
— I am a fan of your music. I know no English. Can you write some songs in Spanish?
She sensed Armenta’s gaze but refused to return it.
— I have written in Spanish, but not recorded.
— Can you record them for us who do not understand English?
— Do not ask the artist to work, said Armenta. She came here on pleasure, not business. But perhaps she will consider to write in Spanish someday soon.
“Pleasure?” With this she gave Armenta the most withering look she owned, borne of the Celtic blood and passion that ran through her, a look that Bradley called “The Firing Squad.” It was utterly sincere. She thought, not for the first time in the last few minutes, of the Cowboy Defender taped uncomfortably on her upper left calf. So easily retrieved. So easily operated. Armenta’s moment of surprise would be the last moment of his life. Firing squad is right.
— Or perhaps not, said Armenta. Enjoy the game.
They walked along the stacks of cash. She could see that the bills were all American and the denominations ranged from five dollars to one hundred. Each brick was approximately three inches thick, neat, and bound by three rubber bands, left, right and center. Up this close she could smell the money through the bleach and lemons. Bradley liked the smell of cash and had more than once joked of making a cologne of it. A crazy wave of homesickness broke over her, because these bills had been printed and earned and spent in the place she so badly wanted to return to, and because she might not see again her deceitful, money-loving husband who so loved the smell of them.
From the periphery of her vision Erin caught the three lepers looking at them. One arranged his balaclava to more completely hide his face. The futbol announcer spoke in full-auto bursts and the TV crowd roared and the lepers turned back to the action.
“It is difficult to protect money in Mexico,” Armenta said. “For this you need the cooperation of banks and our banks are not trustworthy. In ten years, maybe. Twenty. I have friends in banking and when they become influential, things will change. Grand Cayman, yes, is good now. Switzerland, maybe. It is best to keep the money near you. In the names of others I have purchased land and homes and businesses. Farms and ranches, aircraft and boats. Government employees and many politicians, of course. But mostly, I keep it here. No one here in the Castillo has seen this except for you and the lepers. Everyone else thinks they can get leprosy just by breathing the air of the third floor. Mexicans are very superstitious. I can protect my money in banks, or with guns, or with superstition. So I use the most economical. In this room there are fourteen millions of American dollars. There are exactly eighty million more dollars throughout this level and buried beneath the tiger and lions in the zoo. And millions of pesos, of course, and Colombian currency and yen and euros and English pounds. I have other properties in Mexico with much more money hidden in them. It is best not to have all the eggs in the one basket.”
He studied the stacks of cash for a long moment. “They are not interesting or beautiful to look at.”
“But you’ll skin me alive for a million more?”
He looked at her with strangely distant eyes and she was suddenly frightened even more than before, more than she ever thought she could be. His tone of voice, which had always been resonant and heartfelt, even when endorsing ugliness and violence, now sounded detached, impersonal, fated. “The million dollars is a gesture of respect from your husband. We are all in this world together and he must know how to cooperate in it. The money is not what I want most. The money represents my power. And yes, I must let Saturnino skin you, as promised to you and your husband, or my power is false and my words are nothing. For the same reason the reporter must be given to the leopards. It is justice as a form of nature.”