Crimes of August: A Novel: 5 (Brazilian Literature in Translation Series) (21 page)

“For me to come home. I said I wasn’t returning. He said he loved me. That he’d broken it off with that woman. I think he really does love me, just that he’s very selfish. He ordered me to see Dr. Arnoldo. I answered that I’m fine and don’t need any Dr. Arnoldo. I said I love you and all I need is you.”

DESPITE IT BEING SUNDAY
, a group of
PSD
senators met at the Seabra Building to discuss the country’s political situation and hear the information that Freitas usually obtained from his various sources.

Freitas had an influential friend in the palace, the head of the Civilian Cabinet, Lourival Fontes, who was playing both sides against the middle by making secret contact with allies and enemies of the government, a process Fontes had employed since the time he was the all-powerful head of the Department of Press and Propaganda in the era of the dictatorship—a tactic he’d learned from Filinto Müller, then chief of Vargas’s political police. Freitas also had his spies among the Lacerdists and knew that someone inside the Catete, perhaps the head of the Civilian Cabinet himself, was secretly leaking confidential information to the archenemy Lacerda about what went on at private meetings in the governmental palace. Betrayal was part of the political game. Now more than ever, when the major newspapers, the military, politicians, students, the manufacturing classes, the Church, were all contributing with fervent ardor to the tumult that was beginning to dominate the country.

That group had come to be known as “the Vitor Freitas independents,” thanks to notes planted in the press by a reporter from
O Jornal
whose beat was the Senate and who owed to Freitas his appointment as administrator of the Commercial Employees Retirement and Pensions Institute. It was common for journalists who covered the chambers of Congress or the executive branch to arrange public positions that ended up being for a lifetime. The various pensions and retirement institutes in the Department of Labor were the favorite of journalists for several reasons, one of them being that they were not obligated to show up regularly for work.

Severino served drinks and hors d’oeuvres while the Freitas independents analyzed the situation.

“What do you think about Lutero voluntarily going to the Republic of Galeão”—an ironic reference to the power of the Air Force High Command—“to be interrogated? Lodi refused to accept the writ and invoked his congressional immunities.”

“Getúlio told Lutero to go,” said Freitas. “Lutero voluntarily waived his immunities, temporarily, and went to Galeão accompanied by Adroaldo Mesquita da Costa, vice president of the Chamber of Deputies. Adroaldo told me, in confidence, what happened. Colonel Adyl de Oliveira did not deign to receive the deputy. He sent a subordinate, a major or colonel named Toledo, to interrogate him. When they got there, Toledo handed Lutero a sheet of paper, saying, ‘Read this, deputy.’ It was Gregório’s statement from the interrogation he underwent. Dumbstruck—that was the term he used later with Adroaldo—Lutero read what was written. Gregório said, dotting all the
i
’s and crossing all the
t
’s, that the brains behind the Tonelero crime was he, Lutero. In the deposition Gregório made inelegant references to Getúlio. Lutero protested, claiming that the statements were nothing but vile slander, a plot to involve his name and thus harm his father, that the attack merited the strongest possible repudiation from the president, and that no one was more committed than he to the complete uncovering of the events and the severest punishment of those responsible. Adroaldo says that Lutero was quite eloquent, but knowing as we do that Lutero was never capable of improvising even slightly bearable oratorical flights, everything indicates that he was speaking a text written by someone else.”

“Probably by Tancredo Neves. It’s known that Lutero consulted that sly fox before agreeing to the deposition.”

Severino served more drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

“What else did Adroaldo say?”

“‘Do you want to see Gregório?’ Toledo supposedly asked. It seems Lutero hesitated. It was obvious that Toledo wanted a confrontation to put Lutero in a discrediting situation. He thought he held the trump cards. Toledo took Lutero by the arm: ‘Come along, deputy, I’ll take you to where he is.’ They went down a long corridor, Lutero, Adroaldo, and some military men, among them Toledo, who was hanging onto Lutero’s arm. They opened a door, and there, sitting on a bed, was the Black Angel. Gregório looked at the arrivals with a vague gaze and went back to the gloomy meditation in which he seemed immersed. Everyone was frustrated by Gregório’s behavior. Toledo no doubt hoped that Gregório, obeying some agreement made with his captors, would attack Lutero directly. Lutero hoped that Gregório would stand up, with the deference he had always shown him, and ask forgiveness in some way for the words in his deposition. Toledo, appearing surprised by Gregório’s indifference and alienation, repeated several times, without breaking the Black Angel’s silence, ‘Gregório, Deputy Lutero Vargas is here.’”

“So Gregório accused Lutero! I never thought he’d do that, whether Lutero was behind it or not.”

“According to Adroaldo, Lutero believes that Gregório must have been interrogated under the influence of some drug, scopolamine or some such thing, to force him to say what he said. Lutero also says that they put Gregório on an air force plane and threatened to throw him into the ocean if he didn’t sign that confession.”

A heated discussion ensued among the “independents.” To some, Lutero was innocent; to others, he was foolish enough to commit such a stupid act. All agreed that the political situation was worsening by the hour. When he was caught, some said, Climerio was going to make statements that would cause even greater agitation. If they let Climerio live, others replied.

All the legislators agreed that great interests were at stake. Including their own.

The political machinations in which Freitas had been involved in recent days had pushed his concern with Inspector Mattos into the background. Politics, to Freitas, was a kind of aphrodisiac. The contingency plans he elaborated, by weaving the threads of an intricate tapestry whose objective was to obtain the maximum advantage from the country’s complex and chaotic political situation, left him in a state of euphoria in which sexual desire merged with ambitious dreams of even greater power. The night before, he had satisfied that imperious necessity with a partner who had given him great pleasure and joy, and in so doing had increased his motivation to proceed in the complex schemes he had planned.

That day, the senator had awoken thinking about the problem represented by his adviser Clemente and phoned him to come by the Seabra Building as soon as the meeting of the “independents” ended.

Seeking to be persuasive, Freitas told Clemente that he was going to have to reorganize his staff. A nephew, a young and brilliant lawyer, was about to move to Rio de Janeiro. Freitas couldn’t ignore his sister’s request to find a place for him on his staff.

“Despite his youth, he’s an assistant professor in the School of Law. A young man with several degrees, highly qualified. I can’t help but make him my chief adviser.”

Clemente listened in silence, his face unreadable.

“As I know you wouldn’t enjoy being the subordinate of a younger man—I’m very familiar with your dignity, your pride, my dear—I’m thinking of getting you an appointment as a lawyer for the Bank of Brazil. I’ve already spoken with Souza Dantas about it.”

“I’ll think it over,” said Clemente.

“Help me solve this problem. He’s my only nephew. We’ll go on being friends . . . Nothing’s going to change between the two of us . . .”

Clemente repeated that he’d think it over. And without another word, withdrew.

sixteen

THE EXCHANGE AND COFFEE MARKETS
opened in an air of anticipation; the majority of players were still unsure as to the interpretation of Resolution 99 by Sumoc, the money and credit oversight board, which set the floating rate of the currency.

Prices in dollars for coffee and other merchandise had come to vary in accordance with the free-exchange rates, whose average would be calculated by the Exchange Division of the Bank of Brazil.

As a result of Resolution 99, coffee dropped to sixty-five U.S. cents a pound. Pedro Lomagno had been informed by Luiz Magalhães that the resolution would be forthcoming. Thus, before the new Sumoc provision was published, Lomagno & Co. and other exporters associated with him succeeded in closing sales contracts for 300,000 bags of coffee at the old price of eight-seven cents a pound.

These sales came to the attention of other coffee merchants, who accused the government of protectionism and alleged they had incurred the loss of a billion cruzeiros because of the resolution, for the secretary of the treasury, Oswaldo Aranha, and the president of the Bank of Brazil, Souza Dantas, had guaranteed that the minimum price of coffee would remain unchanged.

The National Confederation of Commerce distributed a note supporting the measure adopted by the government.

The free exchange market proved cautious. The dollar was quoted at sixty cruzeiros.

THE OLD POLICE VAN
took Inspector Mattos along Avenida Brasil, spewing black smoke from its tailpipe. He had gone to the precinct very early, picked up the van, and spoken rapidly with Pádua, whom he would replace on duty at noon, about his conversation with Anastácio.

“The fucker wants cover, because he’s afraid to die,” said Pádua. “So, Mr. Ilídio, huh? . . .” Pádua gave a short guffaw of scorn while he flexed his arm muscles.

“When I get back from Galeão, we’ll talk more about it,” said Mattos.

At the bridge to Governor’s Island the first air force patrols appeared, heavily armed. The inspector’s van was stopped three times for identification of its occupants before it was allowed to enter Galeão airport, where the air force base was located, site of the Police/Military Inquiry into the assassination of Major Rubens Vaz. At the beginning of the
PMI
, the base was mockingly dubbed the Republic of Galeão by supporters of Getúlio. A government within the government. But in the last few days no more jokes were heard about the air force investigation.

At the entrance to the base the van was ordered to stop once more, at a barricade. The officer of the day was called and Mattos said he wanted to speak with Colonel Adyl.

The inspector waited for a long time, in the van, under the watchful eye of a soldier armed with a machine gun standing next to the vehicle. The officer of the day returned, instructed the driver where to park the van, and told the inspector to come with him.

The base had been transformed into a frenetic war zone. Bell military helicopters and P-40 fighter planes, Tomahawks, were waiting on the runway, their pilots at ready. Trucks and jeeps occupied by army and air force soldiers and naval marines, heavily armed, awaited orders to go into action. Cars with searchlights used by army antiaircraft batteries were evident.

“We’ve put together a military operation to catch that outlaw. We know he’s hiding in the Tinguá woods,” said the officer of the day. “He won’t get away now.”

The inspector followed the officer to a room where an air force captain sat, in field uniform and with a .45 pistol in his holster.

“I’m Captain Ranildo. Colonel Adyl asked me to see you.”

The inspector spoke of his suspicions about Gregório Fortunato’s involvement in the killing of Gomes Aguiar. He said it was perhaps a case of a homosexual crime of passion. The captain heard the inspector in silence, controlling his excitement as best he could. While the inspector was speaking, Ranildo had gotten up from his chair behind a desk and picked up the telephone in front of him, without, however, placing any call.

“I’d like to be able to interrogate Gregório Fortunato,” the inspector said.

“Wait here a moment,” said the captain.

Ranildo went to the office of his immediate superior, Major Fraga, and related what he had heard from the inspector.

“That damned Negro is perfectly capable of having done that; it wouldn’t surprise me,” said Ranildo.

“I don’t like this,” said Fraga. “Gregório involved in a homosexual crime? I don’t trust the police; so far they haven’t managed to catch Climerio. Remember Inspector Pastor trying to demonstrate that Rubens Vaz’s fatal wounds could’ve been caused by the shots that Lacerda fired at the gunman?”

“Do you want to talk to the inspector?”

“You said you’ve got a buddy in the
DPS
. Try to get the inspector’s dossier from him. All on the q.t. Meanwhile I’ll have a talk with him. Advise Colonel Adyl of what’s happening.”

Fraga, who was unarmed, took from a drawer a belt with a .45 pistol, which he buckled around his waist.

The inspector rose when Fraga entered the room.

“Good afternoon, Inspector. Captain Ranildo told me about your investigation. The problem is that authorization to interrogate Gregório Fortunato can only be given by Colonel Adyl, who’s in charge of the
PMI
, and he’s not in at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” said the inspector. “My interrogation will take place in the presence of a military officer, if that’s your wish.”

Fraga took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and extended it to the inspector.

“Thanks, I don’t smoke.”

Fraga was slow to light his cigarette and replace the pack in his pocket. “You understand that we’re going through a very delicate moment. A political situation of the utmost gravity. After all, persons intimately linked to the president of the Republic are involved in the most heinous political crimes ever committed in this country.”

Mattos said nothing.

“Gregório is one of those involved,” Fraga continued, “but there are others, above him. We already know, from the confession of the gunman Alcino, that Lutero Vargas, son of the president, is one of the masterminds. We want to discover the whole truth, however horrible and shocking it may be for the Brazilian people. Gregório Fortunato still has a lot to tell about this repugnant crime. You do agree with me that it was a repugnant crime, don’t you?”

“To me all crimes are the same. I’m a policeman.”

“But even for a policeman there are crimes more atrocious than others.”

“It’s not the policeman’s job to make a value judgment about the illicit act.” Pause. “The best policeman would maybe be an automaton who knew the law well and obeyed it blindly.”

Fraga thought about what Mattos had said.

“All authority contains, in a way, the responsibility to judge,” Fraga said.

“All authority contains, in a way, something corrupt and immoral,” said the inspector.

Fraga looked at Mattos in surprise, not knowing what to say. He preferred to let the cop’s observation pass.

“I’m not talking about judging like a magistrate. Judging like a man of integrity,” said Fraga.

“Those who consider themselves men of integrity aren’t always good policemen.”

“But you’re a man of integrity, aren’t you, inspector? You’re not going to tell me that the turpitude, the corruption, the sea of mud that covers our Brazil doesn’t worry you?”

“Colonel—”

“Major.”

“Major, the only thing that worries me is doing my job well.” The inspector’s stomach began to ache.

Captain Ranildo entered the room.

“May I have a word with you, Major?”

“One moment, I’ll be right back,” said Fraga, leaving the room with Ranildo. In the corridor.

“I’ve got the guy’s dossier. When he was in law school, he was arrested twice. First in 1944, during the dictatorship. Then he was arrested again in ’45, after Getúlio was deposed, during the we-want-Getúlio campaign, when the commies went over to the ex-dictator’s side, that disgusting business of Prestes supporting the man who’d been his torturer and the executioner of his wife. It seems that our inspector follows the communist party line.”

“I spoke with him,” said Fraga. “He has some . . . strange ideas. He’s not stupid.”

“How do they let a guy with his background into the police?” continued Ranildo. “When all this is over we’re going to have to clean house in the police.”

“The guy may really be investigating Gregório’s possible participation in the murder of a civilian.”

“The story that inspector tells is too fantastic to be true. Do you think Gregório is a homosexual? He’s a cynic, a thief, a killer, but not a homosexual. The information we have is that he’s a womanizer,” said Ranildo.

“Then what’s the inspector’s motive?”

“To stir up the Police/Military Inquiry. I think the police want us to board a leaky canoe. They accuse Gregório falsely, with our collaboration, of having committed a crime, then they declare the black guy innocent, involving us one way or another. Then
Última Hora
screams in banner headlines that just as Gregório was wrongly accused of that crime invented by the inspector, he also had nothing to do with the assassination of Major Vaz, et cetera, et cetera,” said Ranildo.

“That strikes me as very . . . far-fetched,” said Fraga.

“My theory or his?”

“Both.”

“Major, the inspector may even be here in good faith, which I don’t believe. It wouldn’t be good for our investigation, now, to accuse Gregório of anything not linked to the crime of Rua Tonelero. It can get in the way. We haven’t even had time to interrogate the man properly. The important thing is to prove that Gregório ordered Lacerda killed under orders from a group that includes Benjamim, Lutero, Lodi, and Getúlio himself.”

“And what if Gregório committed the murder mentioned by the cop?”

“I understand your scruples, Major, but that can wait till later.”

“Later may be too late.”

“What’s the problem? In any case, Gregório’s going to spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“I think it best for us to speak to Colonel Adyl.”

The two men stopped in front of the door to Colonel Adyl’s office.

“Wait out here,” Fraga said, entering the room.

Fraga didn’t take long.

“Ranildo, go tell the inspector that for now Gregório can’t be interrogated. Colonel Adyl is going to start the military operation to catch Climerio and instructed me to personally speak to the superintendent of police about that inspector.”

“Does Colonel Adyl trust Paulo Torres?” the captain asked.

“Torres isn’t some crooked cop. He’s an army colonel, a hero of the Italian campaign.”

Ranildo returned to speak with Mattos.

“The colonel said that at the moment, Gregório Fortunato cannot be interrogated by the police. He’s incommunicado.”

“Can I ask a favor of you, Captain?”

“You can ask. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“It’s a simple thing: could you tell me if Lieutenant Gregório is wearing a gold ring on his left hand?”

Ranildo, surprised, looked at the inspector. “A gold ring?”

“Yes. It’s very important to the investigation I’m undertaking.”

Ranildo went to the window and looked pensively at the troops outside at the ready.

“I’m going to do what you ask, but then I’ll ask you to leave. I have many problems that need to be resolved.”

Ranildo left the room. An armed corporal, in battle gear, entered and stood stiffly by the door.

Ranildo returned.

“Yes, he’s wearing a ring.”

“Gold?”

Ranildo held out his hand. “This one.”

“May I see it?”

Ranildo handed the ring to the inspector. A gold ring, similar to the one the inspector had in his pocket, a bit wider, without any letter engraved inside.

The inspector returned the ring to Ranildo.

“Thank you, Captain. We can go now.”

Ranildo escorted the inspector back to the van and stood watching as the police vehicle left the base.

Ten minutes later, the sound of growling motors of trucks and jeeps, the metallic whir of helicopters and Tomahawks was heard. The war operation to apprehend Climerio had begun.

Back at the precinct to relieve Pádua, Inspector Mattos asked his colleague if he would come to an agreement with Anastácio.

“It’s not enough for that son of a bitch to return the jewels. He’s got to testify against the guy.”

“That he won’t do.”

“We’ll put the squeeze on him.”

“I don’t want you to use violence on him. The guy’s sorry about what he did.”

“He’s scared. Are you going to let Ilídio off the hook?”

“No. But I’m in no hurry. Old Turk turned up dead in Tijuca Forest.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“I didn’t know. How about that, I did him a favor by letting the bastard go, and somebody capped him.”

Mattos stared at Pádua, who held his colleague’s gaze.

“I think you killed Old Turk.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, Mattos.”

“It was a stupid crime.”

“We’re not going to burn a candle over some cheap loser.”

“I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to pursue this to the end.”

“Do whatever you like.”

When Pádua left, Mattos ordered the jailor to release the prisoners in lockup for questioning. There were two. Then he called the clerk Oliveira, to whom he gave instructions to summon the numbers boss Ilídio to appear at the precinct for clarification.

AT THE MOMENT
the military troops were beginning their hunt for Climerio, the superintendent of the Federal Department of Public Safety, Colonel Paulo Torres, was declaring to the press that the former head of the president’s personal guard, Gregório Fortunato, was not being held prisoner but was merely at the disposal of air force authorities. The superintendent of police added that only the former second in command of the personal guard, Valente, was under arrest, and that the driver Nelson Raimundo was in voluntary custody, evincing no desire to accept any habeas corpus on his behalf.

Colonel Paulo Torres stated further that his office had taken over the police inquiry of the Rua Tonelero affair with the objective of making the process more efficient and that every resource would be made available to Sílvio Terra, director of the Technical Police, chosen to head the new investigations.