“Who entered?” Coro asked the woman.
“It’s Mr. Castellanos, who wants to fornicate with me.”
“Ah!” Coro exclaimed with a ferocious smile. “That has to be earned my dear friend. In this bunker only the courageous have the right to love. But that speaks well of you. Sex and courage go together, I guarantee it. Perhaps you’re not what you seem. Let’s see.”
Then Coro called out,
“Whitey!” And from the side closet came the big, hairy man, who looked at Danilo with eyes full of hate and planted himself before him, ready for a fight.
“Break his bones, Whitey. Let’s see how far courage gets this old-lady murderer.”
Coro clapped his hands and Whitey leapt on Danilo, knocking him over immediately, and began beating him on the floor.
“I surrender, I surrender,” Danilo blubbered with his nose broken by a punch. “I can’t take on this man. He’s stronger than I am.”
When he heard this, Coro broke into sinister laughter and again ordered his thug,
“Rape him, Whitey. Take over that faggot’s ass; he doesn’t deserve to belong in the world of men.”
Danilo backed up against the wall, asking everyone for mercy. He was a coward, he confessed, but he had never given his ass to anyone. Whitey didn’t pay attention to his pleas. He threw Danilo to the ground again and with precise motions removed all of Danilo’s clothes. But something must’ve happened within Danilo’s soul when his virginity was endangered. Something annihilated his cowardice and infuriated him. He delivered a blow to Whitey’s head, and Whitey stepped back, surprised. Then Danilo delivered a kick to the big man’s testicles that made him double over in pain. Without wasting any time, Danilo grabbed an iron chair and brought it down on Whitey’s head, making him fall to the floor unconscious.
Coro, duly informed by the Madame of each step of the fight, applauded Danilo’s victory for a few seconds.
“Do you see, Mr. Castellanos? You’re capable of defending your ass like a tiger, and yet you’re not capable of reacting the same way to the daily rape to which Cornelio Rojas subjects you. Don’t you live like a dog? Isn’t it enough that the tyrant violates your most basic rights daily? You can’t speak freely. You can’t read whatever you like, you can’t travel around the world, you have to go to the agricultural fields without complaint, as the tyrant demands. You eat only potatoes and eggs, the only things that are abundant in this country. You have already been raped, my dear friend. Your only redemption is to participate in this conspiracy to execute Cornelio Rojas. Take this!”
And Coro removed a Colt 45 pistol from a drawer and handed it to Danilo.
“Play with it,” Coro continued. “Practice your aim killing rats in the basement. Imagine that each smoked rat is Cornelio Rojas himself. Take it, caress it, remember that God made each man different, but that that Colt makes them equal forever.”
“What do you want from me?” Danilo asked holding the beautiful pistol in his hands.
“I’ll tell you,” Coro said. “In two days, Cornelio Rojas and the Arab tyrant Moammar Qaddafi will be part of a convoy four blocks from here. They’ll go slowly because both characters like the fanfare, and being cheered on by the crowd. You will be posted on the corner of First and Fourth, blending in with the large crowd that will go to pay homage to both tyrants. You need to stay in the heat of the moment, keep your pulse firm, and your eyes on the prize. When the convoy is just a few steps away from you, you will take the weapon from your waist and shoot the nine explosive bullets loaded in the pistol. You will die without a doubt. But it will be a much more dignified death, a thousand times more elegant, than the firing squad death awaiting you for killing an old woman.”
Danilo remained pensive for a few seconds. “Ferryman, ferryman, you’re to blame.”
“I can’t,” the young man reacted brusquely, putting the pistol back in Coro’s hands.
“Come on, don’t be a coward. I guarantee that you will be remembered forever by the people as the savior of our national dignity. Statues all over the place, your name in the history books, ballads that troubadours will sing in every town. A magnificent end! I envy you.”
“I’m not interested in any of that. I want to live. Do you understand? I want to live!”
“Fine, there you have the door to the street. You can do what you want. Go out, I assure you that in less than an hour you will be behind bars, surrounded by miscreants of the worst kind and, what’s worse, awaiting your death in some dark prison courtyard.”
Danilo hung his head in his hands and moaned softly.
“Don’t cry, Castellanos. If I still had my eyes, I wouldn’t hesitate to act.”
“I just can’t. Send someone else.”
“Someone else would be impossible. Melanio Webster is nervous and would shoot before it was time. Manzano the poet is very manly, but he’s half-mad and would stand out with his wrinkled frock coat and enormous Afro. Whitey is a good soldier, but he’s clumsy and only acts when he hears my voice. I wouldn’t be there. I could only utter some curse at the tyrant that would get lost amid all the people’s voices. That leaves just you, my friend. And you only have two days to decide.
When he said this, Coro handed the pistol back to Danilo and ordered the Madame to take him to the basement to practice his aim.
The woman took Danilo by the arm and led him out of the room, giving him an encouraging pat on the back.
“There’s more for you, darling,” the Madame whispered in the young man’s ear. “If you accept the role of assassin, you’ll have the right to deflower Nefertiti, the most sought-after little whore in every bar of the port.”
They went down rickety stairs to the damp, dark basement that smelled of rats. The Madame lit an oil lamp and immediately hundreds of rats started to shriek and run from side to side, fleeing from the light.
“Let’s go,” the Madame said. “Fire on them. Try to kill as many as you can. Imagine that each rat is Cornelio Rojas and take out all of your hate on them. Shoot!”
Danilo aimed at a rat that was gnawing on an old shoe. He shot.
“Good shot,” the Madame said. “You pulverized him. Shoot, shoot, I brought enough ammunition in my pocket.”
Danilo began to shoot left and right. Sometimes he missed, but most of the time he made a direct shot on the vermin who were scattering in all directions through the holes in the walls. When the ammunition ran out, the Madame counted the dead rats. There were eleven.
“Good aim,” the woman said.
“When I was a boy, I shot birds with a shotgun.” Danilo explained.
“Magnificent!” the Madame exclaimed. “Coro should know that.”
“Does Coro need to know everything?”
“Everything. Coro is my official husband. We were married before a notary. My soul belongs to him. And only my soul, because I can do whatever I want with my body.” And with that, the Madame undid the straps of her dress, and was completely naked before Danilo’s eyes.