The Collected Novels of José Saramago (393 page)

to summon it. Now it is going up in order to leave its cargo on the fourteenth floor, inside it a sequence of unmistakable clicks says that a gun has been made ready to fire. There isn’t a soul to be seen in the corridor, the offices are all closed at this hour. The key slipped easily into the lock, almost noiselessly the door allowed itself to be opened. The superintendent leaned against it to close it, turned on the light and will now go into every room, open all the wardrobes where a person might hide, peer under the beds, draw back the curtains. No one. He felt vaguely ridiculous, a swashbuckling hero wielding a gun with nothing to point at, but, as the saying goes, slow but sure ensures a ripe old age, as providential ltd must well know, since it deals not only with, insurance but with reinsurance. In the bedroom, the light on the answering machine is blinking, and the display indicates that there have been two calls, one might be from the inspector warning him to be careful, the other will be from one of albatross’s under-secretaries, or they might both be from the police commissioner, in despair at the treachery of a man he had trusted and, at the same time, worried about his own future, even though he himself had not been responsible for appointing him. The superintendent took out the piece of paper with the names and addresses of the group, to which he had added the doctor’s telephone number, which he dialed. No one answered. He dialed again. He dialed a third time, but this time, as if it were a signal, he let it ring three times and then hung up. He dialed a fourth time and, at last, someone answered, Yes, said the doctor’s wife abruptly, It’s me, the superintendent, Oh, hello, we’ve been expecting you to call, How have things been, Terrible, in a matter of twenty-four hours, they’ve managed to transform me into a kind of public enemy number one, Believe me, I’m really sorry for the part I’ve played in all this, You weren’t the one who wrote what the newspapers published, No, I didn’t go that far, Maybe the article that appeared in one of them today and the thousands of photocopies that
were distributed will help to clear up this whole absurd situation, Maybe, You don’t sound very hopeful, Oh, I have hopes, naturally, but it will take time, this business isn’t going to resolve itself from one moment to the next, We can’t go on living like this, shut up in this apartment, it’s like being in prison, All I can say is that I did everything I could, You won’t be visiting us again, then, The mission they gave me is over, and I’ve received orders to go back, Well, I hope we see each other again some day, in happier times than these, if there ever are any, They seem to have got lost en route, Who, Those happier times, You’re going to leave me feeling more discouraged than I was, Some people manage to stay standing even when they’ve been knocked down, and you’re one of them, Well, right now, I’d be very grateful for some help getting back on my feet, And I’m only sorry I can’t give you that help, Oh, I think you’ve helped much more than you let on, That’s just your impression, you’re talking to a policeman, remember, Oh, I haven’t forgotten, but the truth is that I no longer think of you as one, Thank you for that, now all that remains is to say goodbye, until the next time, Until the next time, Take care, And you, Good night, Good night. The superintendent put the phone down. He had a long night ahead of him and no way of getting through it except by sleeping, unless insomnia got into bed with him. They would probably come for him tomorrow. He had not arrived at post six-north as he had been ordered to, and that is why they will come for him. Perhaps one of the messages he erased had said just that, perhaps they had called to warn him that the people sent to arrest him will be here at seven o’clock in the morning and that any attempt at resistance will only make matters worse. They will not, of course, need skeleton keys to get in, because they will bring a key of their own. The superintendent is fantasizing. He has an arsenal of weapons to hand, ready to be fired, he could fight to the last cartridge, or at least, let’s say, to the first canister of tear-gas that they lob into the fortress. The superintendent is fantasizing. He sat down on the bed, then allowed himself to fall backward, he closed his eyes and pleaded for sleep to come soon, I know the night has barely begun, he was thinking, that there is still light in the sky, but I want to sleep the way a stone seems to sleep, without the traps set by dreams, but to be enclosed in a block of black stone, at least, please, at the very least, until morning, when they come to wake me at seven o’clock. Hearing his desolate cry, sleep came running and stayed there for a few moments, then withdrew while he undressed and got into bed, only to return at once, with hardly a second’s delay, to remain by his side all night, chasing any dreams far away into the land of ghosts, the place where, mingling fire and water, they are born and multiply.

It was nine o’clock when the superintendent woke up. He wasn’t crying, a sign that the invaders had not used, tear-gas, he did not have handcuffs round his wrists or guns leveled at his head, how often fears come to sour our life and prove, in the end, to have no foundation, no reason to exist. He got up, shaved, washed and dressed as usual, then went out intending to go to the café where he had eaten breakfast the previous day On the way, he bought the newspapers, I thought you weren’t coming today, said the man at the kiosk with all the familiarity of an old acquaintance, There’s one missing, commented the superintendent, It didn’t appear today, and the distributor doesn’t know when it will be published again, possibly next week, apparently they’ve had a massive fine slapped on them, But why, Because of that article, the one they made all those photocopies of, Oh, I see, Here’s your bag, there are only five papers today, so you’ll have less to read. The superintendent thanked him and went in search of the café. He could no longer remember where the street was and his appetite was growing with each step he took, the thought of toast made his mouth water, we must forgive this man for what may appear, at first sight, to be deplorable gluttony, inappropriate in a man of his age and standing, but we must remember that yesterday he went to bed on an empty stomach. He finally found the street and the café, now he is sitting at the table, and while he waits, he glances through the papers, here are the headlines, in black and red, so that we can get a rough idea of their respective contents, Another Subversive Act By The Enemies Of Our Country, Who Set the Photocopiers Working, The Dangers Of Disinformation, Who Paid For Those Photocopies. The superintendent ate slowly, savoring every mouthful down to the last crumb, even the coffee tastes better than yesterday, and when he had finished his meal, his body now refreshed, his spirit which, ever since yesterday, had felt itself under an obligation to the park and the pond, to the green water and the woman with the water jar, reminded him, You so wanted to go there, but you didn’t, Well, I’ll go now, replied the superintendent. He paid, put all the papers back in the bag and set off. He could have caught a taxi, but he preferred to go on foot. He had nothing else to do and it was a way of passing the time. When he reached the park, he went and sat on the bench where he had talked to the doctor’s wife and become properly acquainted with the dog of tears. From there he could see the pond and the woman with the water jar poised for pouring. Underneath the tree, it was still slightly cool. He drew his raincoat over his knees and, with a sigh of satisfaction, made himself comfortable. The man wearing the blue tie with white spots came up behind him and shot him in the head.

Two hours later, the interior minister was giving a press conference. He was wearing a white shirt and a black tie and, on his face, an expression of deep regret, of profound grief. The table was crowded with microphones and the only other ornament was a glass of water. As always, the national flag hung meditatively behind him. Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, said the minister, I have summoned you here today to give you the tragic news of the death of
the superintendent who had been charged by me with investigating the conspiratorial web whose leader, as you know, has now been revealed. Unfortunately, his was not a natural death, but the result of a deliberate, premeditated murder, the work, no doubt, of a professional criminal of the worst kind if we bear in mind that a single bullet was enough to carry out the killing. Needless to say, all the indications are that this was a new criminal action by the subversive elements in our unhappy former capital, who continue to undermine the stability of the democratic system and its correct functioning, and to work cold-bloodedly against the political, social and moral integrity of our nation. I need hardly point out that the example of supreme dignity offered to us today by the murdered superintendent will, for ever after, be the object not just of our utter respect, but also of our most profound veneration, for his sacrifice has, from this day forth, and a most unhappy day it is, bestowed on him a place of honor in the pantheon of our nation’s martyrs who, up there in the beyond, have their eyes always upon us. The national government, which I am here to represent, shares the mourning and grief of all those who knew the extraordinary human being we have just lost, and, at the same time, assures all the citizens of this land that it will not be discouraged in this war we are waging against the evil of the conspirators and the irresponsibility of those who support them. Just two further points, the first to tell you that the inspector and the sergeant who were assisting the murdered superintendent in the investigation had been withdrawn from the mission at the latter’s request so as to protect their lives, the second to inform you that, as regards this fine man, this exemplary servant of the nation, who, alas, we have just lost, the government will examine by what legal means he may, exceptionally and posthumously, and as quickly as possible, be awarded the highest honor with which the nation distinguishes those of its sons and daughters who bring honor upon it. Today, ladies and gentlemen, is
a sad day for decent people, but duty requires us all to cry sursum corda, lift up your hearts. A journalist raised his hand to ask a question, but the interior minister was already leaving, on the table only the untouched glass of water remained, the microphones recorded the respectful silence due to the dead, and, behind them, the flag tirelessly continued its meditation. The following two hours were spent by the minister and his closest advisors in drawing up an immediate plan of action that would consist, basically, in arranging a surreptitious return to the capital city of a large number of policemen, who, for now, would work in plain clothes, with no outward sign that might indicate to which organization they belonged. This was an implicit admission that they had committed a very grave error indeed in leaving the former capital unsupervised. But it’s not too late to correct that mistake, said the minister. At that precise moment, an under-secretary came in to tell the interior minister that the prime minister wished to speak to him immediately in his office. The minister made a muttered comment that the prime minister could have chosen a better time, but had no option but to obey the summons. He left his advisors to put the finishing logistical touches to the plan and set off. The car, with guards to front and rear, bore him to the building in which the cabinet offices had been installed, this took him ten minutes, and five minutes later, he was entering the prime minister’s office, Good afternoon, prime minister, Good afternoon, do sit down, You phoned me just as I was working on a plan to rectify the decision we took to withdraw the police from the capital, I can probably bring it to you tomorrow, Don’t bother, Why not, prime minister, Because you won’t have time, The plan is almost finished, it just needs a few minor touches, You do not, I’m afraid, understand, when I say that you won’t have time, I mean that by tomorrow you will no longer be interior minister, What, the question emerged just like that, explosive and somewhat disrespectful, You heard what I said, there’s no need for me to repeat it, But, prime minister, Let’s save ourselves a pointless conversation, your duties cease as of this moment, Such harshness is most unjust, prime minister, and is, if I may say so, a strange and arbitrary way of rewarding my services to the nation, there must be a reason, which I hope you will give me, for this brutal dismissal, yes, brutal, I won’t withdraw the word, Your services during the crisis have been one long string of errors which I won’t bother to enumerate, I can understand that necessity knows no law, that the ends justify the means, but always on condition that the ends are achieved and the law of necessity is obeyed, but you obeyed and achieved neither, and now there’s the death of the superintendent, He was murdered by our enemies, Please, don’t come to me with any operatic arias, I’ve been in this game too long to believe in fairy tales, the enemies of whom you speak had, on the contrary, every reason to make him their hero and no reason at all to kill him, There was no other way out, prime minister, the man had become a subversive influence, We would have settled our accounts with him later, not now, his death was an unforgivable blunder, and now, as if that weren’t enough, we’ve got demonstrations in the streets, Insignificant, prime minister, my information, Your information is worthless, half the population is out on the street already and the other half will soon be joining them, The future, prime minister, will, I am sure, judge that I was right, And a fat lot of good it will do you if the present judges you to be wrong, and now, that’s an end to it, please leave, this conversation is over, But I need to hand on any matters pending to my successor, Don’t worry, I’ll send someone over to deal with all that, But what about my successor, I’m your successor, after all, why shouldn’t the prime-minister-cum-justice-minister also be the interior minister, that way we can keep it all in the family, so don’t you worry, I’ll take care of everything.