Rubem Fonseca: Crimes of August

That same day, at his residence, which had been transformed into his general headquarters, Zenóbio conferred with Brigadier Epaminondas, secretary of the air force, who had been informed by Eduardo Gomes of the stance taken by the meeting at the Aeronautics Club. Present at the meeting of the two secretaries were General Odilio Denys, commander of the Eastern Military Zone, and Police Chief Colonel Paulo Torres.

Around ten o’clock that night, Zenóbio headed to the military compound, where the main army units in the capital were concentrated. He returned after midnight and went directly to the War Department, where almost all the generals on active duty in the Federal District were waiting for him. A communiqué was issued saying that the armed forces were united in defense of the law and the Constitution and that every measure had been taken to prevent subversion of order, from wherever the call for violation of the regime might come.

LATE THAT NIGHT, the home of Café Filho, vice president of the Republic, was packed with friends and fellow party members. Café Filho demonstrated good humor, giving vent to a characteristic of his personality that his friends called “ blagueur spirit.” He refused to make any statement to the press.

THE WARSHIPS anchored in the Bay of Guanabara kept their engines running all night.

MATTOS READ in Monday’s newspapers the brigadiers’ communiqué about the Sunday meeting at the Aeronautics Club. To the inspector, the note, sketchy and obscure, would through its veiled threats increase the rumors flying in the city. “The general officers of the Brazilian Air Force, identifying with the feelings of the corps stemming from the criminal facts brought to light in the Police/Military Inquiry, once again express their gratitude for the solidarity received from the army and the navy, and the assurance that the armed forces, within the framework of order and discipline, and faithful to the Constitution, will not betray the confidence vested in them, in order that the current crisis may have a definitive and worthy conclusion. They also agreed that Brigadier Eduardo Gomes, the highest officer present at the meeting, should communicate to the secretaries of the military departments and to the chief of the general staff of the armed forces the unanimous decision taken there, as being one capable of restoring peace to the country.”

To Mattos, the note left an open field for speculation. But the secret word that Eduardo Gomes had taken to the secretaries wasn’t hard to imagine; the air force was demanding the removal of Vargas.

“In the War Palace, General Zenóbio, hero of the FEB and secretary of war, expressed complete satisfaction with the conduct of the troops at the military compound, who have remained at the ready for the safeguarding of the regime and the Constitution,” said Radio Globo. An identical announcement, also referring to Zenóbio as the hero of FEB, had been published that day by Última Hora . The government had decided to stop the “spreading of alarmist news.” The radio stations announced events, under police control. But by now censorship is useless, thought the inspector. At that juncture public opinion was no longer worth anything.

While Mattos was absorbed in these thoughts, Alice was writing in her diary, sitting at the table in the living room. Lately she remained silent, staring at the wall, or writing for hours on end in the thick hardcover notebook.

She raised her eyes for an instant from the diary and noted the look of absorption on Mattos’s face.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Getúlio Vargas.” Pause. “And you?”

“I have more important things to think about. I have my life.”

“Getúlio Vargas is part of my life.”

“He arrested you when you were a student.”

“It wasn’t him. It was some flunky of his. I feel sorry for Getúlio. I know that sounds absurd; I’m surprised myself.”

“You told me that when you were arrested they put you in something called the Polish corridor, where you were hit and kicked when you were forced to walk through. You were only seventeen.”

“Everything lasted two minutes at most.”

Mattos stood up and got a briefcase with papers and photos from the bedroom.

“See this photo here? As a high school student I’m parading on the Seventh of September, 1937, at the height of the dictatorship. I liked parading on the Seventh of September. I liked marching to the beat of the drums. See this other photo? I’m singing patriotic anthems with thousands of other children in the Vasco stadium, a chorus directed by Villa-Lobos. In this one here I’m speaking at a pro-Vargas queremist rally in 1944, when I was already in law school.”

“Queremists. . I have a vague recollection. . Who were they actually?”

“Pressured by the military in ’44, Getúlio had to schedule elections for president of the Republic and launched the candidacy of his secretary of war, Gaspar Dutra. But at the same time he organized a movement to keep him in power, whose motto was ‘Queremos Getúlio’—We Want Getúlio — and defended convoking a constituent assembly with Getúlio in power.”

“And were you a queremist?” Pause. “Or a masochist?”

“I was very confused in those days.”

“And these days, too.”

“These days too.” Pause. “Getúlio ended up being deposed, in ’45. Know what he liked doing, when he returned, like an outcast, to his ranch in the South? Plant trees.” Pause. “He enjoyed planting trees.”

“I like flowers. Why are you so unhappy? That’s irritating me. You are unhappy, aren’t you?”

“How do you want me to answer?”

“That you’re happy.”

“I’m happy.”

“Promise me you’re not going to see that girl again, that Salete.”

“I can’t promise that. I can only promise that I’m happy.”

“She’s not a woman from your world.”

Mattos felt like telling Alice that neither was she a woman from his world; that he himself didn’t know what his world was; that he felt like a stranger in his nebulous world and in the world of others, too.

“I have to go out,” he said.

“It’s good for me to be alone. I have lots of things to write in my diary.”

Before going to the precinct, Mattos went to the Senate Annex, in the São Borja Building, to look for Laura, but Almeidinha said she wasn’t in.

“Tell her I’ll be back soon to talk to her.”

When he got to the precinct, he called his doctor.

“Your x-ray isn’t good. You may have to have an operation. Remember that new technique I mentioned? Antrectomy and vagotomy?”

“I remember.” Mattos put an antacid in his mouth. “You remove the antrum from my stomach and cut the nerves that govern secretion of stomach acid. You put an end to my ulcer and my excessive hydrochloric acid. Doctor, I’m a little bit of a physician and a little bit crazy, like everybody. Will I still be the same man or will I be a different person afterwards?”

“It’s not good to play around with your health. This is something we have to resolve right away. You’re running the risk of a serious hemorrhage. Can you come here today?”

“What time?”

“As soon as you can. Don’t fail to come.”

Rosalvo entered the office.

“Any orders, sir?”

Mattos was awaiting the arrival of Detective Celso, head of surveillance and apprehension, with whom he had established a plan for the arrest of Francisco Albergaria. He had not yet spoken with anyone about the information he had obtained from Kid Earthquake at the Boqueirão do Passeio or revealed to his colleagues the name of the suspect.

“When Celso from Surveillance shows up, let me know.”