“It’s good Senator Arévalo is sending us help,” Molina said. “Fifty, I think, and tough. With them, you and the people on the force we’ll do what we can.”
“I’d like to try some of those stuffed chilis they have in Arequipa, Ludovico,” Hipólito said. “Since we’re here.”
After breakfast, disobeying orders, they took a little walk through the city: narrow streets, a cold little sun, houses with grillwork and big entranceways, shining cobblestones, priests, churches. The gates to the Plaza de Armas looked like the walls of a fortress. Trifulcio was taking in air with his mouth open and Téllez was pointing at the walls: the Coalition people have sure done a lot of publicity work. They sat down on a bench in the square across from the gray façade of the cathedral, and a car passed with loudspeakers: Everybody to the Municipal Theater at Seven O’Clock, Everybody Come Hear the Opposition Leaders. Out of the car windows they were throwing fliers that the people picked up, looked at and threw away. The altitude, Trifulcio was thinking. They’d told him: your heart like a drum and you have trouble breathing. He felt as if he’d been running or fighting: pulse fast, temples throbbing, veins hard. Or maybe old age, Trifulcio thought. They couldn’t remember the way back and they had to ask. Restoration Party? people asked, is that something to eat? Some party Odría has, Martínez the foreman laughed, people don’t even know where it is. They got there and the man who gave the orders bawled them out: did they think they’d come here as tourists? There were two guys with him. One short with glasses and a small necktie, and the other half-breed-looking and hefty, in shirtsleeves, and the short one was arguing with the man who gave the orders: they’d promised him fifty and he’d sent five. They weren’t going to make a fool of him like that.
“Call Lima, Dr. Lama, try to locate Don Emilio, or Lozano, or Mr. Bermúdez,” said the man who gave the orders. “I tried all night and I couldn’t. I don’t know, I understand it even less than you do. Mr. Lozano told Don Emilio five and here we are, doctor. Let them explain who’s right and who’s wrong.”
“It’s not that we don’t have people, but that we need specialists, people with experience,” Dr. Lama said. “And besides, I’m protesting on
principle
. They lied to me.”
“What difference does it make if they haven’t sent more, doctor?” the hefty half-breed said. “Let’s go to the market, we can round up three hundred and they’ll tear the theater apart just the same.”
“Can you count on the people from the market?” the man who gave the orders asked. “I don’t have much faith in you, Ruperto.”
“Absolutely,” Ruperto said. “I’ve had experience. We’ll draft the whole market and we’ll fall on the Municipal Theater like a landslide.”
“Let’s go see Molina,” Dr. Lama said. “His people must have come.”
“And at Headquarters we met Senator Arévalo’s famous bruisers,” Ludovico said. “The fifty turned out to be five.”
“Somebody is pulling somebody’s leg here,” Molina said. “This isn’t possible, Prefect.”
“I’ve been trying to talk to the Minister to get instructions,” the Prefect said. “But it seems that his secretary won’t let me through. He’s not in, he left, he still hasn’t arrived. Alcibíades, that fag.”
“This isn’t a misunderstanding, it’s sabotage,” Dr. Lama said. “Are these your reinforcements, Molina? Two instead of twenty-five? Oh no, this is too much.”
“Alcibíades is my man,” Don Emilio Arévalo said. “But the key is Lozano. He’s rather understanding and he hates Bermúdez. His palm, of course, will have to be crossed.”
“Five poor devils and, to top it off, one of them an old man with mountain sickness,” Ludovico said. “Do you think those five and us are going to break up a rally? Not even if we were all Superman, Prefect, sir.”
“He’ll get what he wants,” Don Fermín said. “I’ll talk to Lozano.”
“We’ll have to use your people, Molina,” the Prefect said. “It wasn’t part of the plan, Mr. Bermúdez didn’t want people from here involved. But there’s no other way out.”
“Not you, Fermín,” Senator Arévalo said. “You belong to the
Coalition
, officially an enemy of the government. I’m part of the government, Lozano trusts me more. I’ll take care of him.”
“How many of your people can we count on, Molina?” Dr. Lama asked.
“Around twenty, counting officers and men,” Molina said. “But they’re on the regular list and they won’t do it. They’ll want a guarantee against risks, extra pay.”
“Promise them whatever they want, we’ve got to break up this rally any way we can,” Dr. Lama said. “I made a promise and I’m going to keep it, Molina.”
“The truth is we’re all worrying for no good reason at all,” the Prefect said. “They won’t even fill up the theater. Nobody here knows the Coalition big shots.”
“We know from experience that only curiosity-seekers will be going and that curiosity-seekers start running at the first sign of trouble,” Dr. Lama said. “But it’s a matter of principle. They’ve deceived us, Prefect.”
“I’m going to keep on trying to get in touch with the Minister,” the Prefect said. “Maybe Mr. Bermúdez changed his mind and we have to let them hold the rally.”
“Could you give a pill or something to one of my men?” the man who gave the orders asked. “The black fellow, doctor. He’s about to pass out from altitude sickness.”
“But if you didn’t have the people, why did you go into the theater?” Ambrosio said. “It was crazy with so few, Ludovico.”
“Because they told us a tall story and we swallowed it,” Ludovico said. “We believed it so much that we went off to eat some of the stuffed chilis that Hipólito wanted.”
“Tiabaya, that’s where they make the best ones,” Molina said. “Wash them down with some good corn wine and come back around four to take them to the Restoration Party. That’s the assembly point.”
“The reason?” Don Emilio Arévalo asked. “You know only too well, Lozano. To bring down Bermúdez, naturally.”
“More likely to give the Coalition a helping hand, senator,” Lozano said. “This time I can’t help you. I can’t do a thing like that to Don Cayo, you understand. He’s the Minister, my direct superior.”
“Of course you can, Lozano,” Don Emilio Arévalo said. “You and I can. Everything depends on the two of us. The people don’t get to Arequipa, and Bermúdez’ plan goes up in smoke.”
“What about afterwards, senator?” Lozano asked. “Don Cayo won’t ask you for an explanation. But he will me. I’m his subordinate.”
“You think I’m working for the Coalition and that’s where you’re wrong, Lozano,” Don Emilio Arévalo said. “No, I’m working for the government. I’m a government man, an enemy of the Coalition. The government has problems because certain branches have gone rotten, and the worst one is Bermúdez. Do you understand me, Lozano? It’s a question of serving the President, not the Coalition.”
“Does the President know about it?” Lozano asked. “In that case, everything is different, senator.”
“Officially, the President can’t know about it,” Don Emilio Arévalo said. “That’s what we, the friends of the President, are here for, Lozano.”
The corn wine made me worse, Trifulcio thought. His blood had stopped, ready to boil over. But he faked, stretching out his hand toward his enormous glass and smiling at Téllez, Urondo, Ruperto and Martínez the foreman: cheers. They were already a little high. The hefty half-breed was putting on a show of culture, in the house next door Bolívar had slept, the best corn wine in the world came from Yanahuara, and he laughed with satisfaction: in Lima they didn’t have things like that, did they? They’d explained to him that they came from Ica, but he didn’t understand. Trifulcio thought: if I’d taken two pills instead of one, the mountain sickness wouldn’t have come back. He was looking at the sooty walls, the women going back and forth between the stove and the table with the platters of chilis, and he took his pulse. It hadn’t stopped, his blood was still circulating, but very slowly. And it was boiling, that it was, there were the hot waves beating against his chest. If night would only come, if the work at the theater were only over, getting back to Ica right away. Isn’t it time to go to the market? Martínez the foreman asked. Ruperto looked at his watch: there was still time, it wasn’t four yet. Through the open doors of the bar Trifulcio could see the small square, the benches and the trees, children spinning tops, the white walls of the little church. It wasn’t the altitude, it was old age. A car with
loudspeakers
passed. Everybody to the Municipal Theater, Everybody with the Coalition, and Ruperto let out a fuck you: they’ll find out. Quiet, Arequipa boy, Téllez said, hold it for after. How’s your mountain
sickness
, grandpa? Ruperto asked. Much better, grandson, Trifulcio smiled. And he hated him.
“All set, senator, except that I’ve taken my precautions,” Lozano said. “They’ll go, but fewer of them, and the rest will arrive too late. I’m counting on you in case …”
“You can count on me for everything, Lozano,” Don Emilio Arévalo said. “And besides, you can count on the thanks of the Coalition. Those gentlemen will think it’s a service to them. Let them think so, so much the better for you.”
“You still can’t reach Arequipa?” Cayo Bermúdez asked. “This is too much, doctor.”
“I didn’t like the famous chilis at all,” Hipólito said. “I’m burning all over, Ludovico.”
“I’ve only been able to convince ten,” Molina said. “The others odd man out, they won’t even think about going in there in civilian clothes, not for all the bonuses we give them. What do you think, Prefect?”
“Ten plus Lima’s two and the senator’s five make seventeen,” the Prefect said. “If it’s true that Lama can enlist the market people it might work out. Seventeen guys with balls can turn the place inside out, of course. I think so, Molina.”
“I may be stupid, but not as stupid as those gentlemen think, senator,” Lozano said. “I never accept checks.”
“Hello, Arequipa?” Cayo Bermúdez said. “Molina? What’s going on, Molina, where the hell have you been?”
“They’re not so stupid either,” Don Emilio Arévalo said. “It’s made out to cash, Lozano.”
“But the one who’s been calling all day is me, Don Cayo,” Molina said. “And the Prefect too, and Dr. Lama. The one who wasn’t anywhere to be found was you, Don Cayo.”
“Is anything wrong in Arequipa, Don Cayo?” Dr. Alcibíades asked.
“Not just one but a thousand things wrong,” Molina said. “We won’t have enough people, Don Cayo. I don’t know if we can pull the thing off with so few.”
“Didn’t Lozano’s people get there?” Cayo Bermúdez asked. “Didn’t Arévalo’s truck arrive? What are you talking about, Molina?”
“We’ve got ten from the force, but even then, seventeen isn’t very many, Don Cayo,” Molina said. “Confidentially, I don’t trust Dr. Lama too much. He promised five hundred, a thousand. But he inflates things, you know.”
“Only two from Lima, only five from Ica?” Cayo Bermúdez said. “This can be rough for you, Molina. Where are the rest of the people?”
“They didn’t come, Don Cayo,” Molina said. “I’m the one who’s asking where they are, why all those they told us were coming didn’t get here.”
“And nice and naïve, after the chilis we took a walk through the square,” Ludovico said. “Nice and naïve, looking around the Municipal Theater to get the lay of the land.”
“My opinion is that in spite of the mix-ups it can be brought off, Don Cayo,” the Prefect said. “The Coalition doesn’t exist here. They’ve put out a lot of publicity, but they won’t even fill the theater. A hundred curiosity-seekers or so at most. But how is it possible that you thought all the people had arrived, Don Cayo?”
“Somebody’s got his hand in this, there’ll be time to clear that up later,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “Is Lama there?”
“Hello, Mr. Secretary?” Dr. Lama said. “I want to protest in the most energetic way. You promised us eighty men and you send seven. We’ve promised the President to turn the Coalition rally into a great popular demonstration in favor of the government and they’re sabotaging us. But let me tell you, we’re not turning back.”
“Quit making speeches, Lama,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “I’ve got to know one thing and be absolutely frank. Can you reinforce Molina’s people with some twenty or thirty men? It doesn’t matter how much it costs. Twenty or thirty good men. Can you?”
“And fifty or more too,” Dr. Lama said. “The number is no problem, Mr. Secretary. We can get more than enough people. The thing is that you offered us people who were experienced in this kind of thing.”
“All right, get about thirty more to go into the Municipal Theater with Molina’s people,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “How’s the
counterdemonstration
coming?”
“The people from the Restoration Party are spread out through the slums making propaganda,” Dr. Lama said. “We’ll spill them out at the doors of the Municipal Theater. And we’ve organized another rally at the market for five o’clock. We’ll have thousands of people together. The Coalition will die here, Mr. Secretary.”
“Fine, Molina, we’ll go ahead with things,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “I know Lama exaggerates, but there’s nothing we can do but trust him. Yes, I’ll talk to the Commandant about doubling his forces downtown, just in case.”
A strange illness, Trifulcio thought, it comes and goes. He felt that he was dying, coming back to life, dying again. Ruperto was challenging him with his glass in the air. Cheers, Trifulcio smiled and drank. Urondo, Téllez and Martínez the foreman were humming out of tune and the bar had filled up. Ruperto looked at his watch: it was time to go now, the vans would already be at the market. But Martínez the foreman said one for the road. He asked for a pitcher of corn wine and they drank it standing up. Let’s start right here, Ruperto said, and he jumped up on a chair: men of Arequipa, brothers, listen to me for a minute. Trifulcio leaned against the wall and closed his eyes: was he going to die here? Little by little everything stopped spinning, his blood began to run again. Everybody to the Municipal Theater to show these Limans what
Arequipans
are like, Ruperto roared, staggering. The people kept on eating, drinking, and here and there someone laughed. To your health,
gentlemen
, and to Odría, Ruperto said, lifting a glass, we’ll see you at the doors of the Municipal Theater. Téllez, Urondo and Martínez the foreman took Ruperto out onto the street embracing him; they had to get going, Arequipan, it was getting late. Trifulcio came out clenching his teeth and his fists. He wasn’t moving, he was boiling. They stopped a taxi, to the market.