"Thy flesh is our flesh," the celebrants intoned.
"In flesh, let us find the glory of Satan!”
"In flesh, find the glory of Satan!”
"In lust, let us know the goodness of Satan!”
"In lust, know the goodness of Satan!”
"In flesh and in lust, let us all praise Satan!”
"In flesh and in lust, we praise Satan's name!”
"Blessed be Satan!”
"Blessed be Satan!”
"All hail Satan!”
"Hail, Satan!”
This was four blocks away from where the police had chalked Father Michael's outline onto the blood-stained stones in the small church garden.
II
The two men were speaking entirely in Spanish.
One of them was exceedingly handsome. Tall and slender, with black hair combed straight back from a pronounced widow's peak, he looked a lot like Rudolph Valentino. He did not know who Rudolph Valentino was, and so he wasn't flattered when people told him he looked like Rudolph Valentino.
But he guessed that Rudolph Valentino had to be some handsome hombre because if there was one thing Ramon Castaneda knew for certain it was that he himself was handsome as sin.
The man sitting with him was named Carlos Ortega and he was exceptionally ugly. He had crooked teeth and a nose that had been broken often in street fights hither and yon, and a scar that ran through his right eyebrow and partially closed his right eye, and moreover he was bald and hulking and resembled an escaped inmate from a hospital for criminally insane, which he was not. But such was the vanity of men that he, too, thought he w handsome. In fact, many women had told him he handsome. He believed them, even if all of the were hookers.
On this twenty-fifth day of May, another spring morning, the two men sat in a coffee close to their hotel, discussing why they were here the city. It was still early in the morning, a little seven; the place was full of people catching breakfasts before going to work. The two men w, in no hurry. The handsome one, Ramon, had steak and eggs for breakfast.
Carlos, the ugly who only thought he was handsome, had pancakes and sausage. They sat sipping their waiting for the food to come, chatting idly.
Ramon said in Spanish that he thought it pity a man had answered the telephone last night. man might complicate matters.
Carlos said in Spanish that he could break fucking bone in the man's body, whoever he was. what difference did it make if she was living with man, a woman, or a chihuahua?
"If she's the right woman," Ramon said.
"Well, yes, we have to make sure she's the ri woman," Carlos said.
"Which won't be easy without a photograph.”
"But we have her description from the whore.”
The German whore was a buxom blonde claimed she'd been openly abducted in Munich.
name was Constantia. While they waited for their food, the two men discussed whether or not she was reliable. Ramon mentioned that she'd been a drug addict for many years. Carlos said he knew many people who were drug addicts who nonetheless made very reliable witnesses. They got sidetracked wondering if she was a good lay. When their food came, they fell silent for a while, Ramon eating with the exquisite table manners of a man who knew he was devastatingly handsome, Carlos eating like a brute who believed that handsome men like himself could eat any fucking way they wanted to.
"You think she could be so stupid?" Ramon asked.
"How do you mean?”
"To put her name in the book?”
“It says only M. Hollis," Carlos said.
"Also, there are twenty-eight Hollises in the book.”
"But only one M. Hollis.”
"True. How's the steak?”
"Ours are better.”
He was referring to Argentine beef; a bit of national pride there. But Carlos noticed that he was enjoying it. The pancakes he himself had ordered were only so-so. He wondered why he'd ordered pancakes, anyway; he didn't even like pancakes.
"So what we have to do," Ramon said, "is go up there and take a look.”
: "She could have changed what she looks like, you Carlos said.
"Yes, women can do that," Ramon said wearily, an observation a handsome man familiar with strange and wonderful ways of women could in utter boredom.
"She could be a redhead by now," Carlos said "Or a brunette. Never mind the blonde. The could be history by now.”
"We can always look under her skirt," said, and smiled confidently.
"She could have changed it there, too. Or shaw it like a baby's. She could be an entirely woman by now.”
“The blue eyes, she can't change,” Ramon said.
"She can wear contacts to make them green brown or purple. A woman can change about herself. We could go up there, it could be same woman, and we wouldn't recognize her.”
"So what are you saying?" Ramon asked. shouldn't go up there?”
"We should go, we should go. But we shouldn’t' be disappointed if we look at her, and she doesn't the German whore's description. Who, by the may have been lying, anyway.”
"Why would she have lied?”
"For the money. We gave her money.”
"With the promise of more.”
"If we locate the Hollis woman. If that's even name.”
"The German whore says that was her Mary Ann Hollis.”
"So then why is there only an. "M' in the phone book?”
"Because if a woman puts an. "M.A.' in the phone book, a man immediately knows it's a woman," Ramon said.
"So if you put J. F. Kennedy in the phone book, it means it's a woman, correct?" Carlos said.
"Well, I don't know why she put only an. "M' in the phone book," Ramon admitted. "Maybe in this country it's cheaper than using two initials .”
Carlos looked at him.
"Why do you think she put only an. "M'?" Ramon asked.
"Because, one, it could be the wrong woman... "Well, of course, but...”
"Or, two, it could be that the man who answered the phone is the one who's listed in the book, it's a Mr. M. Hollis...”
"No, it's only women who use initials," Ramon said.
"Or, three, she could have changed her name," Carlos said.
"That's true. But then why use an. "M'? Why not change it completely?”
"Even with an. "M,' it could be changed :Completely," Carlos said. "From Mary Ann, she would have changed it completely to Magdalena or s or Malta or...”
He was an Argentine, and so all these names were , naturally.
"... Matilda or Maurita or Mirabella or or Modesta or...”
“I think I get the point," Ramon said.
"What I'm saying," Carlos said, "is we uptown, we find a curly-haired red-head with big and a fat ass and brown eyes and her name is Margarita and we think we have the wrong but instead it's really Mary Ann Hollis who upon a time was tall and thin and had blue eyes straight blonde hair, is what I'm saying.”
"So we have to be careful, is what you're saying.”
"No, I'm saying we may have to beat the shit of her," Carlos said.
"Well, of course," Ramon said, as if it without saying that all women had to have the beat out of them every now and then.
"If she tells us she's not who we think she is.
Carlos said.
"Yes," Ramon said.
"To find out who she really is, is what saying," Carlos said.
"I agree with you entirely.”
"So when do you want to go'?”
“Let me finish my steak," Ramon said.
"You eat more slowly than any person I know.”
"Because I was born rich," Ramon said. "Only poor eat quickly. For fear someone will snatch food away before they're finished .”
"You were born rich, ha!" Carlos said.
"Yes, I was born rich, ha!" Ramon mimicked.
"What I want to do," Carlos said, "I want to be waiting when she comes out of the building. We take it slow and easy. Follow her, see where she goes, what she does. We make our move when we're ready to make it. And not near a house where a man answers the phone." He looked at the remaining bit of steak on Ramon's plate. "Now hurry up and finish, rich man," he said. "Because you'll be even richer once she gives us the money.”