agent. His voice is soft.
Because I'm too dark?
Because you think you are smarter than your superiors.
I do not say anything.
You were given an assignment and you refused to carry it out.
I did not find the target, I say quietly.
He pauses. A good soldado does not choose which orders to obey from his general, does he?
No.
He swivels around on his chair, leans back and speaks out through the bay windows as though addressing the night. I am your general , he says. I must look after an entire army. If two women fight, I shave their heads. If somebody cheats me, I shoot them in the hand. If a soldado fails me, or betrays me . . . what choice do I have?
I watch as a gecko runs along the top frame of the window. It stops, testing the night air with its tongue. El Padre turns back around to me and frowns.
You have been getting high on the sacol , he says.
I recognize the insult. I do not do that stuff anymore, I say. It is for children.
The heat from the candles on the desk, the scent of wax, the smells of marijuana and cocaine from the guard's spliff – all combine and condense in my head.
You disobeyed me, he says – I who have been your benefactor – and decided instead to spare your friend.
I do not say anything.
Do you know what your friend has been saying? For the first time El Padre raises his voice. Do you know what ears listen to those kinds of words? Do you know what it costs to quiet those words? You pull on the hand that feeds you.
I remain silent.
Worse, you make me lose face. Respect.
You can send other sicarios for him, I hear myself say.
When you have already told him to run?
I told you I could not find him.
I have already sent Zeno, he says.
I do not know Zeno. But I hear he is good.
Yes, Zeno is good. His thick lips purse together, then part. Already he has achieved his mission. Two days ago.
I feel my mouth pool with cold spit. I remember I am sitting before a snake. I remember that Hernando is skilled in the ways of leaving the city unseen. And that he has had four days.
Yes?
I do not lie, he says, as though reading my thoughts. In fact, Zeno told me this himself when I visited him earlier today. In the Hospital San Vicente de Paul. He looks at me intently with his dark empty eyes. Then he says, Where he was admitted for a severe fracture of the skull.
Once again, I feel myself sliding out of my own body.
This is peculiar, El Padre goes on, because Zeno said Her-nando did not resist. An easy hit. So his injuries must have been caused afterward. But of course you do not know anything of this?
It is not easy for me to contain my surprise. I am looking at El Padre but what I see is the black body underneath the cardboard roof, the red donut crumbs and the sugar on his lips. My mind races like a fast-rewinding movie. So they all knew, I think – Luis and Claudia and Eduardo. I should not have gone into hiding. But I had to go into hiding – to give him time to escape. Above all this I think of Claudia, who knew, who knew where I was hiding, and who had made a choice not to tell me. I realize El Padre is still waiting for me to speak.
If you do not trust in my ability, I say, I can go away. My voice sounds like a series of echoes inside my head. You can take my salary for this month as compensation.
That is generous of you, Ron. Perhaps I will return the favor and give it to your mother.
He has not taken his eyes from me. I say to him, I am a soldado . You said this. There is no reason to involve my mother.
We look at each other. On the desk between us a thick candle sputters in a sudden draft, but neither of us blinks. His eyes are black puddles.
A bell rings in the outside darkness. I cannot hold my eyes to his – I look away. Everywhere I look are the flames of candles. It is truly like the inside of a church, I think, although I cannot remember having been inside one for years. My head feels humid. I look at El Padre again and realize I no longer know the words to any
Because I'm too dark?
Because you think you are smarter than your superiors.
I do not say anything.
You were given an assignment and you refused to carry it out.
I did not find the target, I say quietly.
He pauses. A good soldado does not choose which orders to obey from his general, does he?
No.
He swivels around on his chair, leans back and speaks out through the bay windows as though addressing the night. I am your general , he says. I must look after an entire army. If two women fight, I shave their heads. If somebody cheats me, I shoot them in the hand. If a soldado fails me, or betrays me . . . what choice do I have?
I watch as a gecko runs along the top frame of the window. It stops, testing the night air with its tongue. El Padre turns back around to me and frowns.
You have been getting high on the sacol , he says.
I recognize the insult. I do not do that stuff anymore, I say. It is for children.
The heat from the candles on the desk, the scent of wax, the smells of marijuana and cocaine from the guard's spliff – all combine and condense in my head.
You disobeyed me, he says – I who have been your benefactor – and decided instead to spare your friend.
I do not say anything.
Do you know what your friend has been saying? For the first time El Padre raises his voice. Do you know what ears listen to those kinds of words? Do you know what it costs to quiet those words? You pull on the hand that feeds you.
I remain silent.
Worse, you make me lose face. Respect.
You can send other sicarios for him, I hear myself say.
When you have already told him to run?
I told you I could not find him.
I have already sent Zeno, he says.
I do not know Zeno. But I hear he is good.
Yes, Zeno is good. His thick lips purse together, then part. Already he has achieved his mission. Two days ago.
I feel my mouth pool with cold spit. I remember I am sitting before a snake. I remember that Hernando is skilled in the ways of leaving the city unseen. And that he has had four days.
Yes?
I do not lie, he says, as though reading my thoughts. In fact, Zeno told me this himself when I visited him earlier today. In the Hospital San Vicente de Paul. He looks at me intently with his dark empty eyes. Then he says, Where he was admitted for a severe fracture of the skull.
Once again, I feel myself sliding out of my own body.
This is peculiar, El Padre goes on, because Zeno said Her-nando did not resist. An easy hit. So his injuries must have been caused afterward. But of course you do not know anything of this?
It is not easy for me to contain my surprise. I am looking at El Padre but what I see is the black body underneath the cardboard roof, the red donut crumbs and the sugar on his lips. My mind races like a fast-rewinding movie. So they all knew, I think – Luis and Claudia and Eduardo. I should not have gone into hiding. But I had to go into hiding – to give him time to escape. Above all this I think of Claudia, who knew, who knew where I was hiding, and who had made a choice not to tell me. I realize El Padre is still waiting for me to speak.
If you do not trust in my ability, I say, I can go away. My voice sounds like a series of echoes inside my head. You can take my salary for this month as compensation.
That is generous of you, Ron. Perhaps I will return the favor and give it to your mother.
He has not taken his eyes from me. I say to him, I am a soldado . You said this. There is no reason to involve my mother.
We look at each other. On the desk between us a thick candle sputters in a sudden draft, but neither of us blinks. His eyes are black puddles.
A bell rings in the outside darkness. I cannot hold my eyes to his – I look away. Everywhere I look are the flames of candles. It is truly like the inside of a church, I think, although I cannot remember having been inside one for years. My head feels humid. I look at El Padre again and realize I no longer know the words to any
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