A Certain Kind of Power by Ryan Butta

Author:Ryan Butta [Butta, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ryan Butta
Published: 2019-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Green shoots covered the branches of the trees that arched over Republica de India, throwing a dappled shade over the footpaths. Spring was beginning to win the battle with winter and the cold southern winds that blew up from Antarctica were making fewer appearances. As if raised from an urban hibernation, the residents of Buenos Aires were emerging, populating sidewalk cafés and restaurants that were empty only a few, short weeks earlier.

From his seat inside Guido’s Mike watched the porteños stroll past the red-paneled windows, chattering about the mini-scandals that filled their lives. Mike was an avid eavesdropper, listening in on the conversations of students on buses, taxi drivers taking calls from their wives, the table next door at a restaurant, slowing down in the street to follow the dialogue of couples behind him, one ear cocked.

Everyday language intrigued him; how it was used, what phrases were employed and by whom. Today the only conversations he heard were those in his own head as he went through the mental files of all interactions he had ever had with the Doctor, Julian Martinelli.

Yesterday he had left the offices of Consultora Tigre, thanking them for their time and assuring them that yes, he was interested, and would be in touch. His first impulse had been to call the Doctor and confront him. What would he say? He would deny, as all spies are taught to do, regardless of their service, if ever caught in a lie. Deny, deny, deny.

He thought about revenge, running through elaborate plots in his mind that ended with him the victor and the Doctor humiliated. He considered continuing as normal, waiting for the day when the Doctor slipped up and he would be there to pounce, to tell him that he had known all along.

None of the plots and plans that ended with Mike winning seemed plausible. He had lost as he had lost numerous times before. Wasn’t this why he had decided to leave Argentina? The acceptance that he could never make sense of the complex moral and social webs that drew him in and so intrigued him. Wasn’t he tired of always being the one caught? Tired of being unable to disentangle himself from his own desire to immerse himself further into a system that refused to reveal itself to him. It always felt just within reach, but he knew that it would always stay that way. He had to digest that fact, as stomach churning as that process was.

He blamed himself. A lifetime had taught him that there are no friendships, only alliances and partnerships and even these are brief at best, vulnerable to be carried away, destroyed by any fresh wind of opportunity or self-interest.

In the end, as the coffee rings in his espresso dried to the walls of the tiny cup, a visual marker of each sip, he picked up his phone and dialed the Doctor. He attempted to strip his voice of the anger, the humiliation, and sense of betrayal that roiled inside him.

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