Rubem Fonseca - Crimes of August

“What else did Adroaldo say?”

“‘Do you want to see Gregório?’ Toledo supposedly asked. It seems Lutero hesitated. It was obvious that Toledo wanted a confrontation to put Lutero in a discrediting situation. He thought he held the trump cards. Toledo took Lutero by the arm: ‘Come along, deputy, I’ll take you to where he is.’ They went down a long corridor, Lutero, Adroaldo, and some military men, among them Toledo, who was hanging onto Lutero’s arm. They opened a door, and there, sitting on a bed, was the Black Angel. Gregório looked at the arrivals with a vague gaze and went back to the gloomy meditation in which he seemed immersed. Everyone was frustrated by Gregório’s behavior. Toledo no doubt hoped that Gregório, obeying some agreement made with his captors, would attack Lutero directly. Lutero hoped that Gregório would stand up, with the deference he had always shown him, and ask forgiveness in some way for the words in his deposition. Toledo, appearing surprised by Gregório’s indifference and alienation, repeated several times, without breaking the Black Angel’s silence, ‘Gregório, Deputy Lutero Vargas is here.’”

“So Gregório accused Lutero! I never thought he’d do that, whether Lutero was behind it or not.”

“According to Adroaldo, Lutero believes that Gregório must have been interrogated under the influence of some drug, scopolamine or some such thing, to force him to say what he said. Lutero also says that they put Gregório on an air force plane and threatened to throw him into the ocean if he didn’t sign that confession.”

A heated discussion ensued among the “independents.” To some, Lutero was innocent; to others, he was foolish enough to commit such a stupid act. All agreed that the political situation was worsening by the hour. When he was caught, some said, Climerio was going to make statements that would cause even greater agitation. If they let Climerio live, others replied.

All the legislators agreed that great interests were at stake. Including their own.

The political machinations in which Freitas had been involved in recent days had pushed his concern with Inspector Mattos into the background. Politics, to Freitas, was a kind of aphrodisiac. The contingency plans he elaborated, by weaving the threads of an intricate tapestry whose objective was to obtain the maximum advantage from the country’s complex and chaotic political situation, left him in a state of euphoria in which sexual desire merged with ambitious dreams of even greater power. The night before, he had satisfied that imperious necessity with a partner who had given him great pleasure and joy, and in so doing had increased his motivation to proceed in the complex schemes he had planned.

That day, the senator had awoken thinking about the problem represented by his adviser Clemente and phoned him to come by the Seabra Building as soon as the meeting of the “independents” ended.

Seeking to be persuasive, Freitas told Clemente that he was going to have to reorganize his staff. A nephew, a young and brilliant lawyer, was about to move to Rio de Janeiro. Freitas couldn’t ignore his sister’s request to find a place for him on his staff.

“Despite his youth, he’s an assistant professor in the School of Law. A young man with several degrees, highly qualified. I can’t help but make him my chief adviser.”

Clemente listened in silence, his face unreadable.

“As I know you wouldn’t enjoy being the subordinate of a younger man — I’m very familiar with your dignity, your pride, my dear — I’m thinking of getting you an appointment as a lawyer for the Bank of Brazil. I’ve already spoken with Souza Dantas about it.”

“I’ll think it over,” said Clemente.

“Help me solve this problem. He’s my only nephew. We’ll go on being friends. . Nothing’s going to change between the two of us. .”

Clemente repeated that he’d think it over. And without another word, withdrew.

THE EXCHANGE AND COFFEE MARKETS opened in an air of anticipation; the majority of players were still unsure as to the interpretation of Resolution 99 by Sumoc, the money and credit oversight board, which set the floating rate of the currency.

Prices in dollars for coffee and other merchandise had come to vary in accordance with the free-exchange rates, whose average would be calculated by the Exchange Division of the Bank of Brazil.

As a result of Resolution 99, coffee dropped to sixty-five U.S. cents a pound. Pedro Lomagno had been informed by Luiz Magalhães that the resolution would be forthcoming. Thus, before the new Sumoc provision was published, Lomagno & Co. and other exporters associated with him succeeded in closing sales contracts for 300,000 bags of coffee at the old price of eight-seven cents a pound.

These sales came to the attention of other coffee merchants, who accused the government of protectionism and alleged they had incurred the loss of a billion cruzeiros because of the resolution, for the secretary of the treasury, Oswaldo Aranha, and the president of the Bank of Brazil, Souza Dantas, had guaranteed that the minimum price of coffee would remain unchanged.

The National Confederation of Commerce distributed a note supporting the measure adopted by the government.

The free exchange market proved cautious. The dollar was quoted at sixty cruzeiros.

THE OLD POLICE VAN took Inspector Mattos along Avenida Brasil, spewing black smoke from its tailpipe. He had gone to the precinct very early, picked up the van, and spoken rapidly with Pádua, whom he would replace on duty at noon, about his conversation with Anastácio.

“The fucker wants cover, because he’s afraid to die,” said Pádua. “So, Mr. Ilídio, huh?. .” Pádua gave a short guffaw of scorn while he flexed his arm muscles.

“When I get back from Galeão, we’ll talk more about it,” said Mattos.

At the bridge to Governor’s Island the first air force patrols appeared, heavily armed. The inspector’s van was stopped three times for identification of its occupants before it was allowed to enter Galeão airport, where the air force base was located, site of the Police/Military Inquiry into the assassination of Major Rubens Vaz. At the beginning of the PMI, the base was mockingly dubbed the Republic of Galeão by supporters of Getúlio. A government within the government. But in the last few days no more jokes were heard about the air force investigation.

At the entrance to the base the van was ordered to stop once more, at a barricade. The officer of the day was called and Mattos said he wanted to speak with Colonel Adyl.

The inspector waited for a long time, in the van, under the watchful eye of a soldier armed with a machine gun standing next to the vehicle. The officer of the day returned, instructed the driver where to park the van, and told the inspector to come with him.

The base had been transformed into a frenetic war zone. Bell military helicopters and P-40 fighter planes, Tomahawks, were waiting on the runway, their pilots at ready. Trucks and jeeps occupied by army and air force soldiers and naval marines, heavily armed, awaited orders to go into action. Cars with searchlights used by army antiaircraft batteries were evident.

“We’ve put together a military operation to catch that outlaw. We know he’s hiding in the Tinguá woods,” said the officer of the day. “He won’t get away now.”

The inspector followed the officer to a room where an air force captain sat, in field uniform and with a.45 pistol in his holster.

“I’m Captain Ranildo. Colonel Adyl asked me to see you.”

The inspector spoke of his suspicions about Gregório Fortunato’s involvement in the killing of Gomes Aguiar. He said it was perhaps a case of a homosexual crime of passion. The captain heard the inspector in silence, controlling his excitement as best he could. While the inspector was speaking, Ranildo had gotten up from his chair behind a desk and picked up the telephone in front of him, without, however, placing any call.