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officer of the Argentine Army, deeply committed to the fight against the vague generic term of “subversion”. His stories of extracting confessions via electric shock, of executing communists, of all his repression exploits, had in Amancio their only confidant.
    Making out like he’d rather not be bringing the matter up but using their binding friendship as cover, Amancio plans to ask Giri’s advice on what to do about his debts with Biterman. He really hopes that Giri will do him the favour of making the problem go away. After all, Jews and communists go together hand in hand, and Giri professes to hate the Sons of Israel even more than he does the followers of Lenin. Giribaldi has the means and the power to make Biterman disappear for ever, and Amancio’s main worries along with him. With this in mind, Amancio walks along Florida, carrying the world on his shoulders. He heads towards Augustus where, over a coffee, he daydreams about the Jew being crossed off his list of problems.
    A coffee with cream please, kid. How you doing, Giri? Really awful. Maisabé’s gone mad. I don’t know what the hell’s up with her. Why? Well, you know how she always wanted a kid. But unfortunately… she can’t. We’ve tried everything. Nothing doing. She did get pregnant once, but soon lost it. A miscarriage. But I thought you were going to adopt? Well, that’s just the thing. A week ago I brought her a baby. Fair hair, healthy, beautiful. But it brings her out in a fit; she looks at it as if it’s a monster. She’s scared of it, and has started saying and doing strange things. Like what? I don’t know. All that nonsense about God and the Devil. She wants to know who its parents are, where they are. I don’t get it. Basically, she’s been going on and on about wanting a fucking child and now that
she has one she cries all day and all night. Last night I found her by the cot. The kid was bawling like a pig and she was standing there, at its side, frozen stiff, as if hypnotized. Tell me something, does anyone really understand women? They don’t even know what the bloody hell they want themselves. I had to give her a slap to bring her back to her senses. She’s making me ill is what she’s doing. Look, the main thing is for you to calm down. Women are like that. All of them. No prick is ever good enough for them. She spends the whole time banging on about guilt and sin. OK, I’ve an idea. Let’s hope it’s a good one. There’s a guy at San Martín who attended Military College with me for a while, until he discovered his true vocation and became a priest. His name’s Roberto, go see him and tell him I sent you. He’s helpful, understands things. You can tell him everything and he’ll give you some good advice. What Maisabé needs is for someone with authority to bless the child. You’ll see then how the whole thing resolves itself. You reckon? Count on it. And where do I find this priest? I’ll give you the address later. Don’t forget. While you’re here though, there’s a problem I wanted to ask you about. Go on. Well, you know that I’ve been going about cap in hand for a while. Haven’t we all. Your problem is you spend what you haven’t got trying to keep Lara satisfied. And she’s never satisfied with anything, of course. Look, are you going to hear me out or give me a lecture? Fine, go on. Well, I’ve ended up scrounging off some Jew in Once and now he’s squeezing me. What have you signed? Some cheques. A stack this high. And has he tried to cash them? Yeah, and the bank bounced them. And so? Now he’s given me a deadline to pay him by, otherwise I have to hand over the ranch or he sends me to jail. Threaten him and get the cheques back off him. You reckon? These Yids are all cowards. Have you got a gun? I’ve got the nine you gave me for my birthday. Go over and point that at his head. You’ll see how fast he coughs up the
cheques. And what if he kicks up a fuss? What fuss is he going to kick up?