Necropolis (29 page)

The next day, he had a look around the center of Villavi­cencio and suddenly, on the opposite sidewalk, he saw a sign that showed him the way:
Delta Agency, private investigations
, and a telephone number. He took out a ballpoint pen and wrote it down at the top of a bill. That was the solution! Come on, let's go back to the hotel, girl, I just had a brainwave. Aren't you going to take me shopping? there are some nice things here . . . Later, sweetheart, later, I have work to do now, let's go, you can use the pool.

They got back to the hotel and he called the number. When they answered, he said: hello, I'd like to know something about the service you offer. Well, if it's for a matrimonial matter there's one rate; if it's a work-related problem another; if it's a family thing or something like that, we look at it on a case by case basis, may I ask why you're calling us? To ask if you take on work outside Villavicencio. Of course, boss, we're globalized, we go from Puerto Gaitán to the Guaviare, tell me where we have to go? I need a little job done in La Cascada, is that possible? Say no more . . . what kind of case are we talking about? matrimonial? an affair of the heart? work-related? we also issue Facebook and Hotmail passwords, but they're more expensive, are you interested? Not for now. I'll send you a letter with the information and an advance. Then I'll call you again. Sure, boss, and what's your name? I'm the Poor Friend, remember that, the Poor Friend. O.K., boss, I hope when you say poor that's just a metaphor, right? Ha, ha. I say that because if the case turns out to be complicated it'll cost you. Don't worry, it's a metaphor, and what about you, detective? what's your name? Oh yes, of course, I'm Marcos Ebenezer Giraldo, boss, at your service.

He mailed him the details that afternoon and called him the next day. This is the Poor Friend, did you receive my package? No, my friend, nothing at all. I sent it by mail yesterday. Ah, no . . . That won't arrive for another two or three days, the mail here is terrible! Never mind, we can wait, are you in a hurry? Only to help you, boss. Well, you'll get the chance and I can assure you, if you're discreet and do a good job you won't be sorry. All right, boss, don't worry, my motto is,
our pleasure is in discretion
. Or this one:
our profession is an inside job
. Seriously, friend, discretion is my middle name, I'm so professional they call me the invisible man, I make less noise than an Alka-Seltzer in a pot of yogurt, nobody even knows I'm there. Call me the day after tomorrow and I'll let you know.

He spent two more days at the hotel, going out very little, like a businessman on vacation with his girlfriend. Daisy was as good as her word, she was cautious and kept her promise not to speak or attract attention, even with that terrific body of hers and everything, she was discreet. Ramón was starting to feel nervous about being there, as he assumed that the paramilitaries, who knew everything, might easily discover his presence. After two days he called the detective again. Did you receive it? Yes, boss, over and out. Perfect. I have the names of the two people, the address of the auto repair shop that has to be investigated, and the money arrived, too, by a miracle nobody robbed the mailman. And is it enough? Of course, boss, it's enough to start the investigation, no problems, if it turns out I need more I'll submit it and then you pay me, all fully invoiced, obviously. And how long do you think these enquiries will take? Two weeks maximum, boss, and everything will be sorted and ready. Good, then I'll call you again in two weeks. Sure, boss, write down my cell phone number, in case you have any questions.

That day he went back to Panama, and to be honest, leaving the airport and driving to his house, he began to breathe more easily, and he felt free. His stay in the Plains had been an emotional experience, but it had revived the fear. He paid Daisy and thanked her. Without her, everything would have been more dangerous; he decided that, when he went back, he would take her again, as she gave him the perfect front. He tried to analyze his feelings and realized that what he had inside him was not pain, or anger, or even regret, but above all curiosity. His heart had become hardened. So much solitude and so many questions had led him to consider his misfortunes as if they had happened to someone else.

Two weeks later he called the detective on Skype, which was good because the call could not be traced, and asked him about his report. It's almost ready, my friend, I just need to copy a final piece of information that I already have, of course as I said it's a first step, if you want to carry on we'll have to do another contract, won't we? Yes, of course, said Ramón. Good, my friend, now when can you come for the report? No, I don't have time to collect it, can you do me a favor and scan it and send it to me at this address, write it down, [email protected], and for anything else contact me that way. All right, my friend, do you mind if I ask a question? Ramón did not say either yes or no. Is it because of the girl that you're doing all this? There followed a silence. Ah, I thought so, I'll send someone to the corner right now to scan it and then I'll send it to you, boss, glad to be of service.

It was afternoon by the time the mail arrived from the detective with the document attached, and the photographs. Seeing all that, Ramón closed the shop, and sat down in the office with a bottle of rum. He drank five glasses, one after the other, before even daring to open the files. He left the photographs and started with the text, it would be easier to read first. There it all was:

 

Soraya Mora has been married to Jacinto Gómez Estupiñán for three years and they have a daughter, Gloria Soraya, who is eighteen months old. Soraya is a housewife and Jacinto is the owner of the restaurant Luna Roja, the bar El Feliz, and two auto repair shops, Su Motor, which he took over after his former partner Ramón Melo García was kidnapped and later killed by the FARC. Señor and Señora Gómez live in the exclusive residential community of El Paraíso, in the new part of La Cascada, and have a farm near Lejanías where they grow African palm and raise cattle.

Señor Jacinto Gómez Estupiñán is divorced from Señora Araceli Ramos, to whom he pays seven hundred thousand pesos a month in alimony. At the divorce hearing, she accused him of adultery and physical violence. After the divorce, Señora Ramos went to live with her mother in Villavicencio, claiming to have been threatened with death if she stayed in La Cascada.

Soraya Mora spends the day with her mother looking after the little girl, Gloria Soraya. In the morning, from nine to twelve, they go together to the kindergarten in the residential community where they live, then they have lunch and in the afternoon go shopping and visit the
Häagen-Dazs ice cream parlor on Plaza de Bolívar or simply stay at home and cook, which is their hobby. The mother goes on Thursday afternoons to a choral group and Señora Soraya plays parqués with her friends from the gym on Fridays at the Escrúpulos tearooms.

Jacinto Gómez Estupiñán leaves home at seven in the morning and goes to the restaurant, then to the market to supervise the purchases of meat for the day, the specialty of his establishment being fresh meat, straight from the farm. At noon he drops by the main branch of Su Motor, on Calle Acacias, and talks with his partner, Arnulfo Solano Arango. Then he has lunch at home with his wife and mother-in-law, but takes his siesta at the house of Señorita Fernanda Osorio Timoco, in the Antioquia district, a young woman of twenty-seven with whom Jacinto Gómez has a relationship of a sexual nature, and for whom he pays the rent on her house, which is 280,000 pesos. Señor Gómez has his account in the Banco Ganadero.

 

He read the report several times in quick succession, one after the other, and one word surged up inside him: Revenge . . . Revenge!

Religion says that we should forgive, but Ramón was not ready for that. Let the bastards beg for forgiveness! If they come to me humbly I may forgive them, but first I want my revenge. He was overcome with rage and something unexpected: a strange happiness within the rage, a dizziness that gave him a tingling in his fingers. In losing his illusions, he had become free. He drank the rest of the bottle and wept, of course, but also felt a kind of pleasure in imagining how it would be when he had taken his revenge. He did not feel up to looking at the photographs yet. He would leave them for later.

The next day he wrote to the detective:

 

Excellent work. Now I need you to find out a few more little things. Firstly, what is a paramilitary known as Dagoberto doing now, tell me if he is still operating in the area or if he is cooperating with the authorities. Tell me when you think you will be able to give me that information and how much it will cost. I will send you the money wherever you tell me to, without asking questions. Secondly, I need to know what connection there was between Jacinto Gómez and that Dagoberto and when it started. Thirdly, I want to know if Soraya Mora was already involved with Jacinto before his divorce, and when that started too. I need dates. I want you to find out how long Soraya had known Dagoberto and why she did what she did and in return for what. Fourthly, find out what happened to that ex-partner, Ramón Melo García, if it is known where he is, and since when Jacinto has been a partner in those repair shops.

 

The next day the detective replied:

 

Oh, my friend, what you are asking me is definitely going to cost a bit more, especially as asking questions about the paras in this region is more dangerous than shaving your testicles with a knife when you're drunk, ha ha, sorry, I joke about everything. This is embarrassing, but I need to ask you for three million pesos, friend's rate, of course. Send it to me by Western Union, made out to the Agency, and addressed to our office in the central market in Villavicencio. As soon as I receive the money, I'll get down to work, boss, over and out, and one last thing, I know this is all very hush-hush, so I want to assure you, now that I'm on the case, you can trust me absolutely. Best wishes, XY.

 

He sent the money from a numbered account and waited, more taciturn than ever before, brooding on his plans, completely given over to his one obsession: revenge, revenge. He was gradually putting it together, one element at a time, like a bird building a nest branch by branch with its beak, confined to his apartment and his office, supervising his workers almost without speaking to them, without calling Daisy at all, given over body and soul to the task of hating, feeling anger, knowing that very soon he was going to feel that thunderclap that meant his revenge was complete.

Until he read the next report:

 

What I am able to tell you is that Dagoberto gave himself up to the authorities seven months ago as part of the new government accords; they have in him in custody in the prison of Cómbita, Boyacá. He admitted to six murders in La Cascada, Puerto Lleras, and Lejanías, which weren't massacres, but said, in order to avoid being put on the list for extradition, that neither he nor his group had ever been involved in drug trafficking. Of course, there are witnesses in the town who say that the man was indeed a trafficker and was smuggling cocaine to Venezuela; that there are a number of mass graves filled with his victims and that he's a major criminal. He's represented by a very good lawyer here in Villavicencio who is advising him to stay and do his time in Colombia. They're plea bargaining for a lenient sentence, six years maximum, which means he'll be able to keep the business going through front men while he's inside and reestablish himself in no time at all when he gets out.

Jacinto met Dagoberto through Soraya Mora's brother Hernán Mora. It's important to note that Jacinto was already having an affair with Soraya while married to his former wife, Araceli, and that was how he got to know Hernán Mora. Her boyfriend, Ramón Melo García, was a good friend of Jacinto's, and the rumor in town is that the FARC took him away to protect him, because he was a Communist, but as he was also a small businessman and owned auto repair shops in La Cascada they ended up extorting money from him and then killing him. Jacinto was a good friend of the family and took over the shops, but then Ramón Melo García's mother died, so that Jacinto was left with everything, in partnership with Arnulfo, Ramón Melo García's chief mechanic. That's the official version, boss, but as I'm good at my job I dug a bit deeper to find what really happened, and it's this: Jacinto was giving it to Soraya Mora every time Ramón Melo went off to Villavicencio to buy equipment for his shops, and through that relationship he became friends with Hernán Mora, who had just come back from Medellín and had contacts with the paras. As soon as he got back to La Cascada, Hernán Mora starting working for Dagoberto, and one fine day, after both of them had been drinking aguardiente, Jacinto told Hernán he loved his sister Soraya and the one thing stopping them becoming brothers-in-law was that Communist Ramón Melo García, who had been a Communist since he was small because his dad had fought with the guerrillas in the Plains, and so Hernán Mora said, don't worry, I'll talk to my sister and then we'll ask Dagoberto to get that Communist bastard off our backs, Jacinto, I'll take care of everything, the bastard deserves what's coming to him.

Jacinto talked with Arnulfo, the man who managed Ramón Melo's shops, and asked him to let him know about Ramón Melo's calls and movements, and told him that if he didn't they might kill him too, because his boss was a Communist and hated Colombia and our president and that was why they were keeping an eye on the people he worked with. Arnulfo Solano let himself be won over, partly out of fear, and partly because if he did what they asked him they told him they would make him a partner in the shops. He said yes without thinking twice.