William Heffernan - Red Angel

“He is warning us about the danger ahead,” Martinez said. “He says we must be cautious if parts of Maria Mendez’s body have already been placed in a nganga. We must not just try to take them back. He says we must now consult his nganga to see if we should abandon our efforts, or if seeking her body is the right path to follow.”

Plante Firme rose from his chair and started back toward the house. Martinez beckoned the others to follow. As they passed the pigsty, the animal began to snort and squeal. The palero stopped and snapped out a string of Spanish epithets, then reached down and removed one of his shower sandals and gave the pig several slaps on its snout.

Out of the corner of his eye, Devlin saw Ollie Pitts take an angry step forward, and he reached out and grabbed his arm. As brutal as Pitts could be to fellow humans, he had an inexplicable affection for dumb animals, to the point of keeping five stray cats in his three-room Manhattan apartment. Devlin’s second in command, Sharon Levy, claimed Pitts liked animals because they bit people.

“Leave it,” Devlin whispered. “We need the man’s help. And remember, this guy makes a living laying curses on people.”

Pitts started to say something, then stopped himself, and Devlin wondered if it was the threat of a voodoo curse that silenced him. He momentarily considered asking Plante Firme for some mojo that would keep Pitts under control for the remainder of his cop career.

They followed the palero into a small room. A cast-iron pot stood near its center, this one at least three feet in diameter, and rising from it was an aggregation of items so vast that the entire mass stood over six feet high.

“This is said to be the most powerful nganga in all Cuba,” Martinez whispered as they followed the palero ‘s instructions and sat on four small stools placed before it.

Devlin couldn’t quite grasp what he was looking at. An assortment of small bones had been hung around the rim of the pot. They could be animal, or human-there was no way to be certain. Rising from within the pot and its necklace of bones was a collection of objects so eclectic it seemed overwhelming. Spears, swords, and axes mixed together with chains of various lengths and thicknesses, military medals, an old revolver, several religious crosses and medallions. There were numerous lengths of wood, and from deep within, Devlin could see the skull of what appeared to be a goat, horns still attached. Hanging beneath the skull, just barely visible, were the skeletal remains of what could only be human fingers, each joint held together by small wires. Sitting on top of the entire mass was a cloth, black-faced doll, dressed in a brightly patterned shirt and wearing a straw hat. An unlit candle in a long metal holder stood before the nganga , its base surrounded by small statues and vases, an ornate, cast-iron bell, and a large wooden bowl filled with water.

Hanging on a wall next to the nganga was a portrait depicting in profile a white-haired black man dressed in a white shirt. Martinez leaned in close to Devlin and nodded toward the picture.

“It is a picture of Plante Firme’s teacher,” he whispered. “Before Plante Firme he was the greatest palero ever to have lived, a holder of great magical power. It is said that his bones are the dead one in Plante Firme’s nganga , and that when he dies, Plante Firme has decreed that his own bones will join those of his teacher to create the most powerful nganga that has ever existed.”

Using a long taper, Plante Firme ignited the candle, then took up a seven-foot stick, forked at the top into five branches, each at least a foot long. He placed a straw hat, festooned with green feathers, on his bald head, so he now resembled the cloth doll atop the nganga. Slowly, he lowered his bulky body onto a wide stool, wooden staff in hand, like some primitive potentate.

Martinez handed Adrianna the bottle of rum he had taken from his car. “This is an offering to Oggun, the god of the nganga,” he whispered.

Adrianna seemed momentarily confused, then bent forward and placed the bottle before the candle.

Plante Firme pointed to the cast-iron bell.

“You must ring the bell to awaken Oggun,” Martinez whispered.

Adrianna did so, the loud clanging sound almost deafening in the small room.

Plante Firme’s voice rumbled, low and sonorous, in a mixture of Spanish and Bantu.

“ Vamo a hacer un registro con los obis. Y creo que le oi a Planta Firme tambien decir parte do esto a continuacion. ”

“He is informing us that he wishes to make a consulta with the coconuts,” Martinez explained. “But first he must pray to the god Eleggua, because nothing can happen unless you first ask Eleggua, who opens and closes all roads.”

The palero ignited a second, smaller candle, set on a white saucer before a statue of the god Eleggua, and his voice rumbled forth again.

“Omi tutu Eleggua.” He dipped a hand into the bowl of water and sprinkled the statue.

“He gives fresh water to Eleggua,” Martinez whispered.

“Ana tutu. Tutu Alaroye.”

“In his moyurbaciones , his prayers, he asks for fresh relations with the dead one, if Eleggua will remove all disagreements.”

“Eleggua, ile mo ku e o.”

“‘In your care I leave my home.’ Senorita Mendez must now say ‘A kue e ye,’ which means, ‘We greet you.’”

Adrianna repeated the chant.

“Eleggua, mo du e o,” Plante Firme said, resuming his chant, and instructing Adrianna to again chant her response.

“They are telling Eleggua that they trust him completely,” Martinez whispered.

“Ariku, baba wa.” Plante Firme’s voice rumbled out the words.

“He says, ‘Health, Father, come,’” Martinez whispered. “Now Senorita Mendez must say ‘Akuana.’ This is like saying amen to the prayer.”

Plante Firme raised one arm, holding it high above his head. “Yu sow mo bi.” He lowered his arm.

“He says, ‘Come in.’ Now we will ask the dead one.”

Plante Firme’s voice bellowed out into the room. “La fo!”

Martinez lowered his eyes. “He is casting out the last of all unexpected evil,” Martinez whispered. “Now we may begin.”

Plante Firme turned to Adrianna. telling her that she could now consult the nganga , but only with questions that could be answered with a yes or a no. As Martinez translated, she asked if they would be able to find her aunt.

Plante Firme picked up a leather pouch and withdrew seven coin-shaped pieces of coconut shell, the concave portions painted white, the convex stained with a black dye. Again, he chanted in a low, rumbling voice, then cast four of the shells on the floor. When they rolled to a stop, all four came to rest with the white, concave sides facing up.

“ Alafia ,” Plante Firme said, nodding.

“This means the answer is yes, good news,” Martinez said. “But not conclusive. More must be asked.”

Adrianna lowered her eyes. Devlin could see her lip tremble.

“Has my aunt’s body been placed in a nganga? ” Her voice was barely audible, as if she did not want to hear the question as well as the answer.

Again, Plante Firme cast the shells. This time all four black convex sides pointed up. The palero stared at the shells and drew a deep breath.

“Oyekun,” Martinez said. “It means the dead man wants to speak. Now Plante Firme must ask the questions. Only he can speak directly when the dead one asks to talk.”

Plante Firme rumbled forth with a heavy mix of Bantu.