He paused. Somehow he couldn’t pronounce Marta’s name in that place.
“Who, García? I swear we didn’t send anybody to your house. You were already off the case, you didn’t matter anymore.”
When García spoke again, his voice was hard as nails.
“You’ve never killed anybody, Mr. del Valle.”
“Of course I haven’t.”
“Right. That’s why you have your hired killers, to kill without thinking, to kill with orders. But for once in your life, I’m going to make you kill.”
“Me? You’re crazy. .”
“They say you should never order anybody else to do something you don’t know how to do yourself. And you were going to order someone to assassinate the president. .”
“People whose profession it is to kill, García. That’s not my profession.”
“This is all stupid,” the general said.
García hit him in the mouth with his gun.
“Nobody told you to talk, General. Learn to follow orders. What do you say, Mr. del Valle? You want to kill someone to find out how it feels? When you know how it’s done, then you’ll be able to issue the orders, without making such a fuss.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your conspiracy has already bit the dust. You and the general together messed up everything. Now not the Chinese or Outer Mongolia or the Russians can be your scapegoats. For that role you need a Mexican, something the people here can understand. Get it now?”
“Yes, but. . Everything is in place for the attack.”
“Because you already gave the Toad and the gringo their police IDs, so they can be in the square? But that won’t work, because the colonel is giving out new ones to the guards.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. And if you keep being an important man, who knows, maybe in the next elections you’ll make a good showing. Or, who knows, some other time the opportunity will arise and then you’ll know how to kill people. Not second-hand, like now.”
“What are you proposing, García?”
“That you kill General Miraflores. That you then expose him as the author of the conspiracy. In this way, you will have saved, at the risk of your own life, the life of our president. You will have saved the institutions. . And you’ll always have another opportunity.”
The general was about to say something, but he looked at García and kept quiet. The blood was pouring down his face and mouth, and his eyes were bloodshot. García kept talking:
“The general is a gunslinger, like me. He’s a military man, trained to go around killing people; the only difference, he hides behind his uniform. It’s like you said, a killer with a team and the rest of it. But now you can see that doesn’t work. He didn’t know how to organize anything. You, on the other hand, Mr. del Valle, are a politician who goes around preaching peace and the rule of law. You go around talking about how the Revolution is over and how we are now living in peace. .”
“Yes, that’s true. .”
“But, del Valle —” the general started saying.
This time García hit him with the back of his left hand.
“Shut up.”
There was silence. The general was having trouble breathing, maybe because of the blood filling his mouth and nose. Maybe because of his sobs.
“If I do what you say —” del Valle said.
“You’ll be a hero. Who could beat you in the next elections when everyone will know that at the risk of your own life you saved our institutions? And with time, even you will believe it’s all true.”
“But. . how?”
“I don’t think you’ll want to do it with a knife. That’s pretty unpleasant. What gun do you have in your drawer?”
“A.32–20.”
“A pistol, but it’ll work.”
García walked over to the desk and pulled out the gun. He walked back, carrying it in his left hand.
“Take it, Mr. del Valle. Shoot him in the chest, three or four times. And don’t even think of shooting me. A.45 makes a very big hole.”
“I understand,” del Valle said.
The general took one step forward.
“Keep still, General.”
“Del Valle,” he said, “del Valle, we’re friends, we’ve been friends for a long time. .”
Mr. del Valle had the gun in his hand. He was staring at him.
“Del Valle,” the general said, “you got me into this mess. The whole idea was yours. I just wanted to help you, as a friend —”
“But you helped me badly, Miraflores,” del Valle said. “You did everything badly. In that way, Mr. García’s right.”
His voice sounded like he was choking, as if it was coming from somewhere far away from his mouth.
“We’re friends. .”
“I don’t have friends. In politics there are no friendships. And anyway, General Miraflores, after what was going to happen tomorrow, I’d already planned to have you eliminated. It’s never a good idea to leave witnesses and I had even thought of hiring Mr. García for the job.”
“But I thought —”
“You thought everything wrong, Miraflores. Very wrong.”
Mr. del Valle pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the general in his belly. He let out a groan and brought his hands to where he’d been shot. The second bullet didn’t hit him. Mr. del Valle had closed his eyes. The general fell slowly to his knees.
“Please, del Valle, for the love of God.”
“Now in his chest,” García said. “No need to make him suffer.”
Mr. del Valle opened his eyes and shot again. The bullet entered the general between his mouth and his nose. The general stretched out his hands and touched del Valle’s legs, leaving five red stripes down his pants. Then he fell slowly, headfirst, onto the rug. García walked up and took the gun out of del Valle’s hand. Then he took the gun out of the general’s holster.
“You see, it’s not that difficult, is it?”
Del Valle was staring at the general’s body, his eyes spinning.
“Want a drink?”
Del Valle started shaking as if he had severe chills. His teeth were chattering. García when over to a coffee table where there was a small bar service, filled a glass half full of cognac, and brought it to del Valle.
“Here. It’s like with women. The first time is tough, but then you start to like it.”
Del Valle drank down his cognac in one gulp. He appeared to enjoy it.
“This is terrible.”
“When you kill, Mr. del Valle, you are forever condemned to solitude.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something I learned this afternoon.”
Del Valle didn’t take his eyes off the general’s dead body.
“Is he dead? I thought I saw him move.”
“Want to shoot him again, just to be sure?”
“Give me another cognac.”
“Pour it yourself.”
Del Valle went over to the table, poured himself a glass, and drank it down in one gulp.
“You don’t want one, García?”
“No, I don’t need it anymore.”
“And now, now what do we do? Maybe the best thing would be to talk to the colonel.”
Del Valle’s voice was getting stronger, returning to normaclass="underline"