He flicked his fingers at the thug he’d called Fonseca, who shoved Pereira roughly into the dining-room. The intruders took a look around but there was no one there, only the table laid for dinner and the remains of the meal. An intimate little dinner, Dr Pereira, said the weedy runt, I see you’ve been having an intimate little dinner with candles and all, how romantic. Pereira made no answer. See here Dr Pereira, said the weedy runt in mellifluous tones, you’re a widower and you don’t go with women, as you see I know everything about you, it’s not that you fancy young men now, is it? Pereira passed a hand across his cheek again and said: You are the last word in infamy, this whole thing is infamous. Come now Dr Pereira, continued the weedy runt, a man is but a man as you know very well yourself, and if a man comes across a nice blond youngster with a pretty bit of arse on him it’s more than understandable. Then, suddenly spitting out the words: Must we turn the place upside down or would you care to collaborate? He’s in there, said Pereira, in one of those rooms through there. The weedy runt gave orders. Fonseca, he said, don’t be too heavy-handed, I don’t want problems, just give him a little lesson and find out you know what, and as for you, Lima, behave yourself, I spotted that cosh tucked inside your shirt, but no head-blows, mind, what I want is a ribs and kidney job, where it hurts but doesn’t leave marks. Just as you say, Captain, grunted the two thugs. They went through and shut the door behind them. Well then Dr Pereira, said the weedy runt, we’ll just have a little chat while my assistants get on with their work. I want to call the police, insisted Pereira. The police? smiled the weedy runt, but I am the police, Dr Pereira, or at least I’m standing in for them, because at night even our policemen have to sleep, you know, our police protect us all the livelong day but at night they go to beddy-byes because they’re asleep on their feet, what with all the criminals there are around, people like your guest here who’ve lost their sense of patriotism, but tell me, Dr Pereira, what made you get yourself into this mess? I haven’t got myself into any mess, retorted Pereira, I simply engaged an assistant for the Lisboa. Of course, Dr Pereira, of course, said the weedy runt, but you really ought to have made enquiries beforehand, you should’ve consulted the police or your boss and given them the particulars of your so-called assistant, do you mind if I help myself to a cherry?
Pereira maintains that at this point he got up from his chair. He had sat down because his heart was racing, but now he got up and said: Those were cries, I tell you! I want to see what’s going on in my bedroom. The weedy runt jerked up his pistol. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Dr Pereira, he said, my men have a delicate job on hand and you wouldn’t find it pleasant to watch, you’re a sensitive man Dr Pereira, an intellectual, and what’s more your heart’s not strong, there are sights that just aren’t good for you. I want to ring my editor-in-chief, persisted Pereira, let me ring my editor-in-chief. The weedy runt gave him a sarcastic leer. Your editor-in-chief is fast asleep by this time, he replied, very likely in the arms of a beautiful woman, you know, your editor-in-chief is a real man, Dr Pereira, he’s got balls, not like you who goes looking for young blondies with pretty arsepieces. Pereira took a step forward and slapped the man’s face. The stunted weed struck him a sharp blow with the pistol, and blood started dribbling from Pereira’s mouth. You shouldn’t have done that, Dr Pereira, said the stunted weed, they told me to treat you with respect but there’s a limit to everything, it’s not my fault if you’re such an imbecile as to hide traitors in your home, I could easily put a bullet through your windpipe and I’d do it with pleasure, the only reason I don’t is that they’ve told me to treat you with respect, but don’t take advantage, Dr Pereira, don’t take advantage or I might forget myself.
Pereira maintains that at this point he heard another strangled cry and that he hurled himself towards the door. But the stunted weed got there first and shoved him back. For all his bulk this shove sent Pereira reeling. Listen to me Dr Pereira, said the weedy runt, don’t force me to use my gun, it’d be a real pleasure to put a bullet through your windpipe or maybe your heart, which is your weak spot, but I’m not going to because we don’t want any corpses, we’ve only come to give a little lesson in patriotism, and you could do with a spot of patriotism yourself come to that, seeing as in your paper you never publish anything but Frog writers. Pereira sat down again, he maintains, and said: It’s only the French writers who’ve shown any guts in times like these. Allow me to inform you that Frog writers are a load of shit, said the weedy runt, they should all be put against the wall and shot and then pissed on. You’re a vulgar lout, said Pereira. Vulgar but patriotic, replied the weedy runt, I’m not like you, Dr Pereira, I don’t exploit Frog writers to vent my anti-patriotic sentiments.
At that moment the door flew open. The two thugs came out. They seemed breathless and nervous. The kid didn’t want to talk, they said, so we gave him a lesson, we had to get tough and maybe we’d better scram. Have you overstepped the mark? asked the weedy runt. Don’t know, replied the one called Fonseca, but we’d better take off. And he sprang for the door, his companion at his heels. Listen Dr Pereira, said the weedy runt, you haven’t seen us here, don’t try to get smart, forget all about your new chums, just bear in mind that this was a friendly visit, because next time we come it might well be for you, have you got the message? Pereira locked the door behind them and listened until their footsteps faded away, he maintains. Then he rushed to the bedroom and found Monteiro Rossi sprawled on the carpet. Pereira gave him a gentle tap-tap on the cheek and said: Monteiro Rossi, try and pull yourself together, it’s all over. But Monteiro Rossi didn’t budge. So Pereira went to the bathroom, soaked a towel and wiped the boy’s face with it. Monteiro Rossi, he repeated, it’s all over, they’ve gone away, wake up. Only then did he realize that the towel had come away all red with blood, Monteiro Rossi’s hair was sodden with it, his eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. Pereira slapped his cheek again, but Monteiro Rossi gave no sign of coming to. Pereira grabbed his wrist, felt his pulse. But life had ceased to flow in Monteiro Rossi’s veins. Then Pereira closed those staring blue eyes and covered the face with the towel. He stretched out the legs, he didn’t wish to leave him all huddled up like that, he maintains, so he stretched his legs out straight, as was only right for the legs of a dead man. And his next thought was that he had to act quickly, very quickly indeed, for time was short, Pereira maintains.