City of God (21 page)

Boss of Us All roamed the entire estate day and night. He exchanged fire with Sting on Wednesday and managed to arrest two gangsters at The Flats. He killed another over in Block Fifteen. By Friday, he already believed Hellraiser had left the estate, as his friends in uniform had figured. He relaxed.

‘Where you from?'

‘I'm from here, girl. Nobody knows me because I hardly ever go out, but then I haven't been livin' here for very long either.'

‘Where'd you come from?'

‘I used to live over in São Carlos and I also spent some time over in the Red Light District.'

‘Who d'you know there?'

‘Um … I know Milk, Cleide, Neide …'

‘You know Milk? That's right! Is he still selling weed there?'

‘No, the cops've got an arrest warrant out for him … He had to clear out for a while. Hadn't you heard?'

‘And how's Neide goin'?'

‘She's fine. Gone and got herself a belly with a guy over in Turano and she's holing up with him over there.'

‘So that's why she didn't parade last year …'

‘No, it wasn't 'cos of that. The president of the section got up her nose and she started ripping off her costume, then went for her tooth and claw … It was the biggest knock-down, drag-out fight.'

‘Who's the president?'

‘Dona Carmem.'

‘Of course – that woman's such a bitch! She's pissed me off before too … What's your name?'

‘Ari, but you can call me Ana Flamengo. What's yours?'

‘Lúcia, but everyone knows me as Lúcia Maracanã. If anyone gives you a hard time, just tell 'em you're a friend of mine and
everythin'll be fine, OK? I'm goin' for a walk around. I'll come and talk some more before the end of the dance.'

Although on edge, Hellraiser went for a walk with his wife. He couldn't stand sitting around inside watching the clock tick any longer. He threw back a beer at Dona Idê's Bar, but didn't stay in any one place for very long. Against Berenice's wishes, he decided to look in on the dance. He went into the hall only after making sure Boss of Us All wasn't there, then roamed the entire club, accepting greetings in silence, always in silence. He wasn't in the habit of speaking when he was strung out. He stopped near the bar. One of the directors offered him a beer. He drank quickly, his eyes searching the darkest corners. His gaze came to rest on the transvestite. He'd never seen that woman. She might be a grass. He was about to head over to check her out, but Berenice, who had followed his gaze, said somewhat jealously:

‘Don't go, he's a faggot!'

Hellraiser again fixed his eyes on Ari. His skin broke out in a cold sweat. Yes, it was Ari – his mother's son who wanted to be a woman, right there in the middle of everyone. For sure they'd take the piss out of him; they'd feel him up then bash his face in. He wasn't hanging around to see that. He pulled Berenice along saying something was telling him Boss of Us All was in the area.

They left the dance quickly and turned down the right branch of the river. Hellraiser approached crossroads and turned corners carelessly. He stared at the ground; if it opened he'd let it swallow him so he'd never again have to see Ari. Berenice walked beside him, taking all the precautions. As they turned down the last street, she glanced at her husband, who had allowed a few tears to escape from his red eyes.

Down at the end of the road, Boss of Us All's lips drew back into a murderous smile and he pointed his machine gun at that easy target. He'd kill the wife too. Those who keep company
with gangsters go down with them. Berenice looked back down the street. She had time to jump on her husband and fall to the ground with him. The machine-gun fire snarled in their ears. Hellraiser returned fire awkwardly, managing to protect Berenice while she got out of the firing line. His first shot was way off mark. The second almost tore off the policeman's ear. Boss of Us All fired another round, then took cover. Even from the ground, Hellraiser fired five near-hits. Then he got up, slipped away, jumped two fences, crossed two streets, went around the block, reloaded his gun and crept up behind his enemy. He crouched on the corner and saw Boss of Us All heading away towards the club. He walked slowly home and went inside, his nerves in shreds.

Berenice looked at her husband. She could barely speak. Her most spontaneous gesture was to cry, allowing her entire body to shudder. Hellraiser wandered back and forth in the pitiful space that was his home. If that arsehole of a cop discovered where he lived, he might surprise him in his sleep. And that fairy was around again pretending to be a woman. Ari was a cancer that ate at his stomach. What was that bastard doing at the dance? His place was in the Red Light District! Why hadn't Boss of Us All's bullets blasted his head off? It was the only way he wouldn't run into his brother again.

Berenice went into the bathroom, washed away the blood running down her arm, splashed water on her face and returned to the sofa. Her husband was sitting in the kitchen doorway. She thought about begging him to get out right then and there, but it'd be no use; Hellraiser was pig-headed. If she wanted to leave she'd have to go alone. Although she knew her husband hated women crying, she was unable to stop fresh tears from rolling.

Hellraiser stared at a dead ant. He couldn't say a thing about his wife's crying. She was the one who had saved his life and
almost lost her own. Perhaps if he cried too, something at the core of him would change, but men didn't cry, especially in front of women. Men who cried were queers, like Ari. The oil lamp in front of the saint flickered in the wind. He heard a car and cocked his gun. If it was Boss of Us All he'd have it out with him until one of them fell. The car didn't stop. His thoughts returned to his brother. A vague feeling of tenderness ran through his soul, but his hatred for that faggot was reignited. Why had he shown up again? He would never confess, not even to the
pombagira
, that that bastard was of the same blood as he was. Berenice stopped crying. The silence was only broken when people went past and talked in the street. He moved closer to his wife and tried to resist the urge to hug her, but she held out her arms. He sat there suffering in silence with her.

Sunday brought rain, but looking out towards Barra da Tijuca one could see rays of sunlight poking through just above the horizon. Sting went to Hellraiser's place to take him a box of shells and his rifle. He didn't think it fair to leave Hellraiser with only a .45 when the enemy had a machine gun. He made a number of recommendations and implicit threats in their conversation about the rifle. They spent half an hour examining the weapon. It was easy to shoot and could fire one shot at a time or in bursts. Hellraiser decided to buy his friend a beer and roll him a joint in recognition of his gesture. As they smoked they strolled through the alleys and drizzle of an almost dead rain. They were both wearing Lee jeans and jackets. Hellraiser was carrying the .45 and a long-barrelled .38, while Sting only had a .32. They headed up Middle Street. The joint was petering out, so they decided to salvage what was left of it. Hellraiser removed some tobacco from the end of a cigarette, replaced it with the roach, lit it, took two tokes and passed it to Sting.

The day was up and running with the Bonfim still open for a few remnants of the night. Whoever saw them moved away, afraid there might be a shootout at any moment. Beth Carvalho sang out from Bahian Paulo's phonograph. Torquato opened a beer. They toasted. Sting asked Hellraiser to use the rifle only once. Boss of Us All couldn't be allowed to see the gun and get away, and if he was with other policemen they'd all have to die. The thing was not to let anyone know about the rifle. The police couldn't be allowed to find out that the weapon was in City of God. Staring fixedly into his friend's face, he said that if he managed to kill Boss of Us All he'd have to cut open his body and retrieve the bullet, so no one would be the wiser.

Lúcia Maracanã came over. She looked at Hellraiser, went over to the counter, asked for a glass and slowly poured herself a beer. Hellraiser asked what was up. Lúcia told him she was very worried, because Boss of Us All had shown up at the club saying that soon the Devil would have a fresh corpse and that he wouldn't sleep until he'd killed him. Hellraiser emptied his glass of beer in a single gulp. He turned to Sting with a knowing laugh. Lúcia continued. She talked about the transvestite who had left the club in a frenzy when he heard the shots. A shiver ran down Hellraiser's spine. Everyone had seen Ari. That dirty homo had had the gall to show up on his turf. The next time he saw him he was going to shoot him in the foot. He changed the subject, then said goodbye. He spent the rest of the day at home.

Monday dawned with a hot sun in the sky. Boss of Us All arrived at the police station earlier than usual. He greeted everyone half-heartedly, changed into uniform, got the ‘snatch' (as he called his machine gun), examined it, loaded it, got more ammunition from the cupboard and hurried into the streets. He'd had nightmares all night long. In his dreams he'd seen Hellraiser ordering him to the ground while holding a gun to his
chest. He'd woken up before two in the morning and had been unable to get back to sleep. His determination to eliminate the gangster that day was much stronger, but he didn't look about. He allowed his gaze to stretch out along the alleys, streets and lanes. He was sad; the nightmare had been a warning. Whenever he dreamed bad things, something shitty happened. His depression was not only due to his bad night. His wife had written to him saying she wasn't coming back to Rio de Janeiro. She was tired of that life of deaths. She refused to sleep any longer beside a man whose weapon was an extension of his body. A man without peace of mind; a murderer. She didn't want to wake up every night startled by the sounds of the world. That incurable ulcer had been caused by the fact that she could never be sure whether her husband would arrive home at the end of each day. Not being able to walk down the street without a worry had left her isolated, without any peace of mind. Being a policeman's wife made it hard to make friends. She spent her life locked away at home. And if she complained too much she got a beating.

Boss of Us All was wrought with anger at her betrayal. His thoughts dwelt more on his wife than on Hellraiser. He walked along with his head down. Acerola, Mango and Green Eyes put out a joint and passed by him unnoticed. He turned into Middle Street and went behind the supermarket. Life in his home state of Ceará had always been hard. He'd gone hungry throughout his childhood. When he was still a child, he would wake up before dawn to work, and only had afternoons free to study at the one school in the region, more than twenty-four miles from home. His father's death put the seal on his miserable life. He saw his mother have to start doing any work she could find to feed her children. He cut across a square and turned down the street that followed the right branch of the river. He might have been a
carpenter like his youngest brother. He reached the river's edge. Those born in the drought country don't choose their profession, by virtue of their place of birth. He turned left and walked along with slow, steady steps. Deep down, he didn't like being a policeman. Everyone feared him, and when they didn't fear him they hated him. He lit a cigarette. But being a policeman was much better than dealing with drunks in a bar. He knew this from personal experience, as he'd worked in a bar in the city centre before joining the police force. He walked down the middle of the street, something he never did. He remembered the times he'd had to rummage for leftover food when he'd just arrived in Rio. He turned into an alley where a few kids were smoking a joint on the corner. He told them they were under arrest, which was a waste of time. It only sent them running. He couldn't be bothered chasing anyone. He'd only get moving if Hellraiser appeared in front of him. His son had died of tuberculosis. He stopped at a bar and ordered a Cinzano-and-cachaça, then left without paying. The lieutenant who had got him into the Military Police force was always asking for favours, for him to kill someone or other. One day he'd blast his head off. He crossed another square. His wife had betrayed him. Another bar. He knocked back another Cinzano-and-cachaça. The biggest scar on his body had been made by his stepfather, who stole his mother from him and made him leave school so he could work the whole day. Another bar, where he drank another Cinzano-and-cachaça. The drought in the Ceará backlands had bleached the colour out of his deepest dreams in the full bloom of his youth. He passed the Bonfim. He had been married in the registry office as well as the church. He thought about going home. His mother had died of a snake bite. He sneezed. He'd killed more than thirty people, but most of them had been niggers. He coughed up phlegm. He wanted his wife to come
back. He spat. He ate sausages. His father used to beat his mother. He continued down Middle Street. His stepfather had beaten her too. One day he'd catch a gangster with more than ten million in stolen money, take the jackpot and ask for a discharge. He arrived at the Two-Storey Houses. If he'd moved, his wife wouldn't have left him. He walked through the New Short-Stay Houses. He'd never pay rent. A few gangsters took off running. He fired to kill. He'd had whores in the Red Light District. He took the road along the river's edge and lit a cigarette. His uncle had been a policeman in Ceará. All the men in his family were tough as hell. He'd kill Hellraiser with more than fifty bullets. The sun was getting hot. He took the first left. He'd never been afraid of any man. His godfather was an important man in the Ceará backlands, a farmer with many heads of cattle. If he went home he'd be guaranteed a job, but come to think of it he could find himself another wife, and he still had it in him to have kids. He turned right. The sun hid itself behind a cloud. His wife had left him. He thought about going home where no one would see him to cry about the loss of his wife. The tears welling up in his eyes were his only defence. He wanted peace and quiet and then he died.