All Is Silence by Manuel Rivas

Author:Manuel Rivas [Rivas, Manuel]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781448156009
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2013-05-02T04:00:00+00:00

25

FINS STAYED CLOSE to her for days, stroking her face, without her realising. From a sports boat moored in the harbour he photographed the woman framed in the window. Several moments which struck him as special, in particular those when she appeared in the window with company, he also recorded on film with a Super 8 camera. But the thing he’d never forget – an unknown trembling, his optic nerve setting all the other senses on edge, immersing everything in a strange tense, remembered present – was when yet again he scoured the fronts of the buildings facing the docks and located the window. The woman in the window. Leda Hortas. He tried out the zoom. Focused, unfocused and focused again. A Nikon F with a 70-200 lens like a piercing prolongation. Rude, desirous, infallible. Yes, Leda was the lookout. A photo. The photo. Another. And another.

‘You’re going to have a change of air, Leda,’ the Old Man had said to her one day. ‘You’re off to the capital.’

‘Are you going to give me an apartment then?’ she replied slyly. She liked to joke with Mariscal. And he liked to play along. He was an expert in irony.

‘You deserve a manor house, girl.’

‘That would need a lot of cleaning.’

‘With every convenience. A noble palace.’

‘Nonsense. All the men around here worship Our Lady of the Fist.’

‘It’s the memory of the famine, girl. The best enchantments are those that come free. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth . . .’

‘Right. So what do I have to do in this apartment?’

‘Keep your eyes wide open.’

He said this in a very serious tone. Not playing along any more. His voice had changed. He spoke like someone in authority entrusting a mission and expecting to be obeyed.

‘Brinco will give you the details.’

From where Leda kept a lookout could be seen the movements of the customs boats arriving and leaving. Next to the window was a small table with a telephone. Which started ringing.

The voice that said hello could only be one voice, and it was. Guadalupe’s. Even so, they went through the ritual.

‘Is that the home of Domingo?’ asked Guadalupe.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘And how is he?’

‘He’s OK. But he’s resting at the moment. He worked all night.’

‘Then I’ll call again later.’

‘Thank you, madam. That’s very kind. I’ll expect your call.’

Leda hung up and leaned out of the half-open window. Had another look at the customs patrol boats. Fins remained where he was. Spying on the spy. Zooming in slowly. Taking time over the portrait. Waiting for a look of melancholy. There it was.

‘These are good,’ said Mara Doval back at the police station, after the photos had been developed. ‘You should devote yourself to this full time, become a paparazzo.’

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