Ricardo Piglia - Target in the Night

“We considered calling this machine The Nautilus , but it’s actually the replica of a spaceship, not a submarine. It’s an aerial machine; it produces changes in the perspective and viewpoint of what one comes to see. It’s a sign of the times: a stationary vehicle that brings the world to us, instead of us having to go to the world.”

It had taken him nearly a year to build the pyramid, all the instruments, and the accompanying guides. He took advantage of the technology available in the factory’s garage to fold the large sheets of metal. The seamless carapace of the machine, formed without any soldered joints, was the work of a watchmaker.

“It’s not finished yet. It’s not finished, I don’t think we’ll have it finished before winter.”

He was haunted by the idea that the factory might be confiscated the following month, when the mortgage payment was due. He had received a letter from the courts with a date for a reconciliation hearing, but he’d postponed it because he didn’t think that he was ready.

“We received the telegram inviting us to parley a week ago. They didn’t use that word exactly, but that was the meaning of it. They want us to sit down and negotiate, they want to discuss the fate of the confiscated funds. We’ll see what they propose. For the moment we’ve postponed the date. We didn’t write directly to the judge, but to his secretary. We sent him notice that our company needs more time and that we were requesting an extension. They send telegrams or cablegrams, we only write letters.” He paused. “Our father has interceded. My father has interceded, even though I didn’t ask for his help.”

“Do you know what this is?” Renzi asked, showing Sofía a piece of paper with the code Alas 1212 on it.

“Looks like an address.”

“A finance company.”

“At my brother Lucio’s funeral, my father decided that he was going to get the money to Luca, even though they weren’t speaking to each other.”

“And Tony brought it for him.”

“The funds belonged to the family, they were in an account that the Old Man had abroad, in dollars, he couldn’t transfer it legally. Or he didn’t want to.”

“He sold his soul to the devil.”

Lying sideways on the bed, propped up on her elbow, a hand on her face, Sofía started laughing.

“ Achalay ! Man, you live in the past.” She touched him with her bare foot. “I wish I could make such a deal with the devil, my little dove. You don’t know how quickly I’d take off. But what I’m offered is never that convincing.”

“My father helped me with the money, but I didn’t ask for it, he saw me at the cemetery, at Lucio’s funeral. I didn’t ask him for anything, I’d rather die first. He advanced me my inheritance, but I don’t want anything to do with him.” Luca started pacing around the garage as if he were alone. “No, I can’t ask my father for anything, ever.” He couldn’t ask the person responsible for all his misfortune for help. That’s why at first he hesitated, but there were larger issues at stake. He stopped his pacing. “While I’m able to keep the factory operational, my father can have his rationale and I can have mine, my father can have his reality and I mine, each separate. We will succeed. The money is legal, it was brought in surreptitiously , but that’s secondary, I can pay the back taxes and the fines to the Tax Office once the capital is acquired. If necessary, I have the official statements from my father and my sisters, and from my mother in Dublin, to prove that the money belongs to the family. It’s joint assets — and that’s how I’m going to pay off the mortgage. I’m one step away from finding a process for the lighting, my observatory needs just a few final touches. I can’t stop now.” He lit a cigarette and smoked, lost in his thoughts. “I don’t trust my father, he’s hiding something, I’m sure the prosecutor is working for him. If I’m not mistaken, this is why I have to be very clear. I don’t understand his reasons, my father’s, and he doesn’t understand the unfathomable humiliation that he subjects me to by having to accept that money to save the plant. The factory is my whole life. 37This place is made with the stuff of dreams. With the stuff that dreams are made of. I must be true to this directive. I’m sure that my father wasn’t responsible for that young man’s death, Tony Durán. That’s why I’ve accepted what belongs to me, from my mother’s inheritance.”

This was going to be the basis for his case in the trial. The factory was his great work, it was already built and had proved its effectiveness, so why liquidate? Why make it dependent on loans? He thought these arguments would convince the court.

He was going to bet his life at the trial. Luca had a cause, a sense, and a reason to live — and this was all that mattered to him. This fixed idea kept him alive, he didn’t need anything else, just a little mate to make his hot, bitter infusion to have with some crackers, and occasionally to be able to pet Croce’s dog. He was absorbed in his own thoughts for a while, then said:

“We have to leave you now. We’re very busy, our secretary will see you out.” Barely waving goodbye, he headed to the staircase and climbed to the upper levels of the plant.

The secretary, a young man with a strange look about him, accompanied them to the front door. As they walked toward the exit he told them that he was worried about the trial, which was actually a reconciliation hearing. The offer from the prosecutor Cueto had arrived. Rather, Cueto had communicated to them that he had an offer about the money that Luca’s father had sent him through Durán.

“Luca didn’t want to open the envelope with the offer from the court. He says he prefers to go in with his own arguments, and not know those of his rival ahead of time.”

The secretary seemed alarmed, or maybe that was his normal demeanor. A bit detached, there was a strange, shy air about him. He walked down the corridor, a few steps behind them, and said his goodbyes at the door. When they crossed the street, Renzi looked back and saw the dark mass of the factory and a single light illuminating the windows of the upper rooms. Luca was looking down from behind the glass, smiling, pale as a specter, following them from the white above, in the middle of the night.

They heard noises from the entrance downstairs. Sofía sat up, motionless, anxious and alert.

“She’s here,” she said. “It’s her, Ada.”

They heard a door and then a few steps and a soft whistling, someone had entered whistling a melody. And nothing else, except for window shutters being closed in one of the rooms down at the end of the hallway.

Sofía looked at Emilio then, and moved closer to him.

“Do you want me to… I can call her…”

“Don’t be silly,” Renzi said, and embraced her. Her body temperature was incredible, soft skin and very warm, with beautiful freckles like a golden archipelago drifting down, disappearing into her red pubic bush. 38

“I was kidding, dummy,” she said, and kissed him. She finished getting dressed. “I’ll be right back, I want to see how Ada is doing.”

“Call me a taxi?”

“Really?” Sofía said.

35 Surface area covered: Main nave: 3,600 m 2. Underground level: 1,050 m 2. Offices: 514 m 2. Conference rooms: 307 m 2. Total surface covered: 5,501 m 2. Land for future expansion: 6,212.28 m 2. Total: 11,713.28 m 2.

36 There were meetings, marches, protests, but they didn’t get any support. The people from the countryside would come by on their horses to see the acts, they’d say hello by touching their hats with the tip of their riding crop, and ride on. “Gauchos don’t go on strike,” Rocha said. He’d been the delegate for the internal commission. “If they have a problem, at most they kill their boss, or they take off. They’re more self-sufficient than the Virgin.”