García, his face expressionless, was holding his Stetson in both hands on his lap. So, Mr. del Valle is determined to believe in the Chinese threat and in this whole Outer Mongolia business. Fucking Outer Mongolia! And, fucking Mr. del Valle! We’re liquidating all the witnesses, are we? If he doesn’t like how I’m making my bricks, why doesn’t he get in there and mix the clay?
“Moreover,” del Valle continued, “the Americans have complained, tactfully of course, about Mr. García’s attitude. They claim he is not being cooperative. Considering who Mr. García is, Colonel, considering his past, it’s no wonder he’s not used to teamwork, and this kind of investigation requires it.”
The colonel did not reply. He was playing with his gold lighter. García remained impassive. Teamwork. To kill someone all you need is one man, not a team. A man who has balls and who’s not afraid of blood. Fucking team! As if this were a soccer match. I draw my gun from the left, shoot to the right — goal, someone’s been rubbed out for good.
Del Valle stood up again.
“Colonel, we have one day left to complete this investigation. I want action, serious action, not the massacre of underlings, like the unfortunate event last night. I want the Chinese who are at the head of this conspiracy. I want to know where the money is and what it is going to be used for. And I want to know tonight, so I can tell Mr. President that he is no longer in any danger.”
“We are doing everything we can. I have men investigating the Chinese connected with the Café Canton gang and the warehouses. We have increased surveillance of political exiles and along all our borders.”
“It’s not enough, Colonel.”
“In the square where the statue is going to be unveiled, we have emptied out all the buildings that have balconies, and only people with special police passes will be able to get in. You, yourself, Mr. del Valle, signed those passes.”
“It’s not enough.”
“We have recommended to the Americans that they use an armored car, to minimize the moments of danger.”
“I’m telling you, Colonel, it’s not enough. God in heaven, Colonel! What more do you want before you order a full-blown investigation? You already know the Chinese have received money; you know they are plotting something, and, putting aside Mr. García’s bizarre and unfounded opinions, you know that that something is the assassination of the president of the United States. Hire some competent men, really competent, to move this investigation forward, like the FBI is doing. Can you imagine the embarrassment if a foreign police force discovered the truth before we did?”
“Yes, of course. .”
“Well, get going, then. We have only twelve hours left. Don’t waste any more time on this nonsense. I feel certain that Mr. García can keep himself otherwise occupied in the meantime. Good day.”
Mr. del Valle opened the door and walked out with dignity. In the doorway, he stopped and turned back:
“Please, Mr. García, do not take this personally. I have no desire to offend you.”
“García understands, Mr. del Valle.”
“Of course, the Russian is an expert —”
“He uses a Luger,” García interrupted. “I use a.45.”
“What does that matter?”
“And the gringo uses a.38 police special. Maybe because they’re experts. They know judo, karate, and how to strangle people with silk cords.”
“I don’t understand what you are getting at, Mr. García.”
Mr. del Valle’s voice was hard, curt, the voice of an official used to giving orders.
“Here in Mexico, they don’t teach us all those skills. Here all they teach us is how to kill. Or maybe not even that. They hire us because we already know how to kill. We aren’t experts, we’re just amateurs.”
There was silence. Mr. del Valle came back into the room. Fucking Mr. del Valle! What does he know anything about all of that? My hands smell of Marta. And I didn’t even want to make out with her. Fucking faggot! Here, the one and only homo is Filiberto García, at your service.
“Look, Mr. García,” said del Valle, “I had no desire to offend you. I admire the work you have done, but in such cases, sentimental considerations can play no part. It is not only the life of the president of the United States that is at risk, but the life of our president and world peace, as well. Based on your findings, you have reached the conclusion that the plot the Russians warned us about has some basis in fact. This is a big step, and it compels us to reach a very serious conclusion.”
“I don’t believe there is such a Chinese plot to assassinate the president of the United States.”
“But you yourself said —”
“That there’s a plot to bring Cuba into the Chinese sphere of influence.”
“The evidence you’ve supplied is flimsy, Mr. García. In this case, you must defer to my long legal and administrative experience. You must defer to the investigations carried out by people who know how to do such things, the FBI and the KGB. Everything points to an attack being planned —”
“Yes,” García interrupted. “I believe they are planning an attack, but not with the Chinese —”
“That is absurd! Don’t you think, Colonel?”
“Yes, Mr. del Valle.”
“So, given the little time we have, I don’t want it wasted investigating this nonsense. We have only one day — one day, Colonel. Put your best men on this. If necessary, search all Chinese establishments in Mexico. That’s an order, Colonel.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think Mr. García has carried out the limited mission he was assigned and can now return to his regular occupations, whatever those may be.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep me informed of everything. Good day.”
Mr. del Valle again opened the door, and this time he walked out. García had remained seated, staring at the wall in front of him. Now they’ve gone and cut me loose. Ugly. And I deserve all of it for being a dumbass and a bigmouth. Who told me to convince fucking del Valle of something he doesn’t want to be convinced of? Better to be like the colonel. Yes, sir, Mr. del Valle, sir. Would you like me to kiss your ass, Mr. del Valle, sir? And I should return to my regular occupations. To my occupation as a hit man. We don’t need hit men for this operation. When we need another stiff, we’ll have you called in. But for now, don’t bother, because we are working with a team. My hands don’t smell like Marta anymore. Now you need a whole team to whack someone. I guess you also need a team to make it with a bitch. Fucking team!
“García.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“You heard what Mr. del Valle said.”
“I did.”
“You were playing hardball, weren’t you? What, did you want to get a rise out of him?”
“I’m going to take eight days off, Colonel.”
“You are going to take exactly zero days off.”
“I don’t have anything to do with this anymore.”
“What was that you said about another conspiracy?”
“Mr. del Valle doesn’t believe it.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I don’t know. But we’ve never investigated what Luciano Manrique was doing in my house. He had nothing to do with Villegas, who was a hired gun for the Chinese.”
“Maybe it was something personal against you.”
“That could also be.”
The colonel walked over to the window and looked out, even though there wasn’t anything to see. There must be a whole hell of a lot of people who’ve got something against me. But they’d want to pump me full of bullets. And Luciano, may he rest in peace, was up to something else, like giving me a warning. It’s like the whole world knows I’ve turned into a faggot, and they think a club is enough to scare me off. And now, all the bereaved are going to come after me. Fucking bereaved! Looks like they’ll have to wait till I die of old age to feel happy. Or as Gertruditas in Yurécuaro said: “Don’t punish him. He’s suffering enough on his own.” Fucking Gertruditas! Seems she was right. The bereaved and all their suffering, but sometimes I think I’m the most screwed. Because now that the Revolution has become the government, even people wearing huaraches are digging their high heels into me. Fucking del Valle! Marta’s probably already gone out shopping.