“Better you get out. The cop at Tonelero saw the license plate. If they catch me, I’ll say it was an unknown customer who got out in Botafogo.”
“You’re gonna turn yourself in?”
“Of course not. I’ll only tell that story if they catch me. Don’t worry.”
“They’ll beat you to a pulp, and you’ll end up spilling your guts.”
“You’re forgetting I’m a cop too?”
“You’re a supplementary investigator for the state of Rio. That doesn’t mean shit.”
“I worked with Colonel Agenor Feio. It was him who hired me.”
“Anybody can be a cop in the state of Rio. Real police work for the DPS.”
Alcino got out of the taxi. He was near the American embassy. He wandered about, not knowing what to do. He leaned against a tree and urinated. Meanwhile, unseen by Alcino, a beggar who collected scrap paper picked up the parcel in the middle of the street and disappeared into the darkness.
On a small bus, Alcino went to Bandeira Square. He got out at the door of a restaurant and then took a cab to Rua Sicupira. Climerio, in addition to procuring him a job as investigator for the Department of Public Safety, had promised him ten thousand cruzeiros. The sooner he received the money, the better. He knocked at the door.
Elvira, Climerio’s wife, opened the door. Adão, one of her sons, was at her side. The two were listening to the radio.
“Where’s Mr. Climerio?”
“I thought he was with you,” said Elvira, turning her attention to the radio. “Carlos Lacerda and an air force officer have been wounded. An awful confusion.”
Shortly afterward, Alcino heard a car motor and went to the window. He saw it was Nelson’s Studebaker. Nelson and Climerio got out and examined the mark the bullet had made on the body of the car. Climerio, seeing Alcino at the window, gestured for him to come outside.
“I’ll give you the money day after tomorrow, Friday. Stay calm, we’ve got protection from higher up.”
AT THE MIGUEL COUTO HOSPITAL, after the wound in his foot from the assassination attempt was bandaged, Carlos Lacerda was transported to his apartment at 180 Rua Tonelero. In a short time the journalist was surrounded by people who showed up to offer support, among them the auxiliary bishop of Rio de Janeiro, Dom José Távora, former president Eurico Gaspar Dutra, and dozens of air force officers.
“I hold the president of the Republic responsible for the attack,” Lacerda told the air force officers, who listened in silence. “It was the impunity of the government that armed the criminal hand.”
Describing the attack, Lacerda said there were three gunmen. They had set up a perfect ambush.
“I escaped death by a miracle, because I had gone to communion just hours before the attack.”
RADIO STATIONS BROADCAST NONSTOP the news of the Rua Tonelero assassination attempt, but Mattos paid no attention to what he was hearing. He was reliving the pain and the hope he had felt seeing Alice again at the Cavé, and also the mortifying shock at hearing her voice when he had called the home of Pedro Lomagno.
Mattos received a call from Commissioner Pastor, head of the Second Precinct, whose jurisdiction included Rua Tonelero.
Pastor spoke about the attack. Sávio, the cop who had traded fire with the gunman, even though wounded had noted the taxi’s license plate. The driver, Nelson Raimundo de Souza, had appeared at the Fourth Precinct telling an unlikely story. According to a reporter, Armando Nogueira of the Diário Carioca, who said he had witnessed the crime, the individual who had shot the major was thin, dark-skinned, of medium height, and was wearing a gray suit.
“The journalist said the assassin squatted and fired at the major. If anything happens in your jurisdiction, connected in any way to the attack, please let me know immediately. Talk to your chief and the other police in the precinct, tell them to be on the lookout. I’m making the same request in all precincts. We want to close this case right away. General Ancora is worried. Air force officers are trying to meddle in the investigation. The secretary of aeronautics, Nero Moura, named a colonel to monitor the police inquiry. I told the general I found that strange, but Ancora said he’d been persuaded by Tancredo to accept the colonel’s intervention.”
Ancora was the head of the Federal Department of Public Safety. Mattos had met him at headquarters, shortly after the general was appointed. That was the only time he’d seen him: a thin man with a worried and indecisive expression, in glasses and a dark suit.
At the precinct were only the inspector, a cop, and the jailer in charge of the lockup. Mattos told them of Pastor’s request and returned to his office.
When they were alone, the cop commented to the jailer that he’d been transferred to the precinct recently and that this was his first time on the same shift as Mattos. “He’s not playing with a full deck,” the cop told the jailer. “That business of kicking Mr. Ilídio in the tail means trouble. The man bankrolls the numbers game in this jurisdiction, and he’s the partner of Aniceto Moscoso in Madureira. .”
“I was inside there and didn’t see what happened. Why would the inspector do something like that?” asked the jailer, shocked. After all, the money that Mr. Ilídio distributed monthly in the precinct supplemented the meager salary the cops received.
“A bookkeeper of Mr. Ilídio’s was arrested, and he came here to get the man released. But Mr. Ilídio tried giving orders to Inspector Mattos; I think he didn’t know who he was dealing with. The inspector’s a straight arrow, he’s not involved in the split of the numbers money. That was Mr. Ilídio’s bad luck. He got kicked in the butt and wound up in a cell.”
“I was embarrassed to lock up Mr. Ilídio, but what could I do? The inspector is goddamn tough,” said the jailer.
“He’s like a soul in torment, pacing from side to side all night and making faces,” added the cop.
The morning newspapers ran large headlines about the attack. Students had gone on strike in “protest against criminality. Our soul is awash in opprobrium. A grave has opened, and the people will not forget.” In Congress, repercussions of the attack had been enormous. Galleries in the Chamber of Deputies and Senate were packed when sessions opened in the two houses of the legislature. According to opposition congressmen, “blood ran in the streets of the capital, and there was no more tranquility in homes.” Representatives of every political party had given speeches condemning the attack. Deputy Armando Falcão had introduced a bill providing aid to Major Vaz’s widow. Responding to Lacerda’s statements, published in newspapers, that “the sources of the crime lie in the Catete Palace, Lutero Vargas is one of those behind the crime,” the government leader in the Chamber, Deputy Gustavo Capanema, had taken the floor to denounce as groundless the accusations against the president’s son. The crowd in the galleries had loudly booed Capanema.
After visiting the prisoners in lockup — those he hadn’t been able to set free upon beginning his shift because they were awaiting trial — Mattos made entries in the blotter, signed documents attesting to residence and poverty, and did the paperwork to send to the morgue a body found in the street.
Rosalvo came into the office.
“Is it true you assaulted Mr. Ilídio?”
“You mean Ilídio the numbers boss?”
“And then threw him in the clink?”
“I don’t feel well today, Rosalvo. Best not to irritate me.”
“Sorry. The chief wants to speak to you about it.”
Mattos entered the superintendent’s office without knocking.
“You want to talk to me?”
“Sit down, Mr. Mattos. It’s about the incident with Mr. Ilídio.”
The inspector sat down, uneasy. Someone had told the chief what had happened. But he didn’t care who it was. What was certain was that the news had gotten around.