Mario Vargas Llosa - The Discreet Hero

When she tried to force the break, he threatened to tell his father everything. From that moment on she knew the story would end badly, and that of the three, she’d suffer the most.

“Effective cooperation with the justice system,” Captain Silva explained, smiling enthusiastically. “That’s what it’s called in legal jargon, Mabelita. The key word isn’t ‘cooperation,’ it’s ‘effective.’ It means that the cooperation has to be useful and productive. If you cooperate honestly and help us to put the crooks who got you involved in this mess behind bars, you’re exempt from prison, even from being tried. And with good reason, because you’re a victim too. No strings attached, Mabelita! Imagine what that means!”

The captain took a couple of drags on his cigarette, and she saw the little clouds of smoke thicken the rarefied atmosphere of the living room and then gradually disperse.

“You must be asking yourself what kind of cooperation we want from you. Why don’t you explain, Lituma.”

The sergeant agreed.

“For now, we want you to continue pretending, señora,” he said, very respectfully. “Just like you’ve pretended all this time with Señor Yanaqué and with us. Exactly the same. Miguel doesn’t know we know everything, and you, instead of telling him, will keep acting as if this conversation never took place.”

“That’s exactly what we want from you,” Captain Silva agreed. “I’ll be frank, give you more proof of our confidence. Your cooperation can be very useful to us. Not to nab Miguel Yanaqué. He’s already fucked and can’t make a move without our knowing about it. But we’re not sure about his accomplices. We don’t know who they are. With your help, we’ll set a trap and send them to prison, where gangsters should be, instead of on the street, making life hard for decent people. You’d be doing us a great service. And we’ll return it, pay you back with another great favor. I’m speaking for the National Police and the justice system. This deal has the prosecutor’s approval. You heard right, Mabelita. The prosecutor himself, Dr. Hermando Símula! You won the lottery with me, girl.”

From then on, she continued seeing Miguel only so he wouldn’t carry out his threat to tell Felícito about their affair “even if the spiteful old man puts a bullet in you and another in me, sweetie.” She knew the insane things a jealous man could do. Deep down, she hoped something would happen — an accident, an illness, anything to get her out of this. She did her best to keep Miguel at a distance, inventing excuses not to go out with him or have sex with him. But from time to time she couldn’t help it, and though she was unwilling and frightened, they went out to eat in sleazy bars, to dance in shabby discotheques, and to have sex in small hotels that rented rooms by the hour on the road to Catacaos. Only rarely did she let him visit her in the house in Castilla. One afternoon, she and her friend Zoila went into El Chalán for tea and Mabel ran into Miguel face-to-face. He was with a very young, very pretty girl, and they were lovey-dovey, holding hands. She watched as the boy became confused, blushed, and turned his head to avoid greeting her. Instead of jealousy, she felt relief. Now the break would be easier. But the next time they saw each other, Miguel whimpered, begged her to forgive him, swore he’d repented, Mabel was the love of his life, etcetera. And she, stupid, so stupid, forgave him.

That morning, after not closing her eyes all night, a more and more common occurrence recently, Mabel was depressed, her head filled with premonitions. She also felt sorry for the old man. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. She never would’ve gotten involved with Miguel if she’d known he was Felícito’s son. How strange that he had a son so white and so good-looking. Felícito wasn’t the type a woman falls in love with, but he did have the qualities that make a woman feel affection for a man. She’d grown used to him. She didn’t think of him as a lover but as a close friend. He gave her security, made her think that as long as he was nearby, he’d get her out of any situation. He was a decent person, with good intentions, one of those men you can trust. She’d be very sorry to embitter him, or hurt him, or offend him. Because he’d suffer so much if he found out she’d gone to bed with Miguel.

At about midday, when the police knocked at the door, she had the feeling that the threat she’d sensed since the previous night was about to materialize. She opened the door and saw Captain Silva and Sergeant Lituma in the doorway. My God, my God, what was going to happen?

“Now you know what the deal is, Mabelita,” said Captain Silva. He looked at his watch and stood up, as if he were remembering something. “You don’t have to answer me now, of course. I’ll give you till tomorrow, at this time. Think about it. If that lunatic Miguel comes to visit you again, don’t even think about telling him about our conversation. Because that would mean you’d sided with the gangsters against us. An aggravating circumstance in your file, Mabelita. Isn’t that right, Lituma?”

As the captain and the sergeant were walking toward the door, she asked them, “Does Felícito know you’ve come here to make me this offer?”

“Señor Yanaqué doesn’t know anything about it, and even less that the spider extortionist is his son Miguel and you’re his accomplice,” the captain replied. “When he finds out, he’ll have a fit. But that’s life, as you know better than anybody. When you play with fire, somebody gets burned. Think about our proposition, sleep on it, and you’ll see it’s the best thing for you to do. We’ll talk tomorrow, Mabelita.”

When the police left, she closed the door and leaned her back against the wall. Her heart was pounding. “I’m fucked, I’m fucked. You did it to yourself, Mabel.” Leaning against the wall, she dragged herself into the living room — her legs were trembling and sleep was still irresistible — and let herself drop into the nearest armchair. She closed her eyes and immediately fell asleep, or passed out. She had a nightmare she’d had before. She’d fallen into quicksand and was sinking through that gritty surface; both legs were already entangled in viscous filaments. Making a great effort, she was able to move toward the closest shore, but it wasn’t her salvation: Instead, crouching there, waiting, was a shaggy beast, a dragon from the movies, with sharp tusks and piercing eyes, watching and waiting for her.

When she woke her neck, head, and back hurt, and she was soaked in sweat. She went to the kitchen and sipped a glass of water. “You’ve got to calm down, have a cool head. You’ve got to think calmly about what you’re going to do.” She went to lie down in the bed, taking off only her shoes. She didn’t feel like thinking. She would have liked to take a car, a bus, a plane, get as far as possible from Piura, go to a city where nobody knew her. Start a new life from the beginning. But it was impossible, wherever she went the police would find her, and running away would only make her guilt worse. Wasn’t she a victim too? The captain had said so and it was absolutely true. Maybe it had been her idea? Not at all. She’d discussed it with that imbecile Miguel when she found out what he was planning. She agreed to take part in the farce of the kidnapping only when he threatened her — again — with telling the old man about their affair. “He’ll throw you out like a dog, sweetie. And then how will you live as well as you’re living now?”

He’d forced her, and she had no reason to be loyal to a son of a bitch like him. Maybe all she could do was cooperate with the police and the prosecutor. Her life wouldn’t be easy, of course. There’d be revenge, she’d become a target, they’d put a bullet or a knife in her. What was better? That or prison?