Needle in a haystack, p.15
Needle In A Haystack, page 15
part #1 of Inspector Lascano Series
Who was it? Just someone bringing me something. Nothing important.
The Major rips open the envelope. There’s the photo of Elías Biterman lying dead, the forensics, ballistics and laboratory reports, a long statement signed by Lascano describing the various stages and findings of the investigation. Giribaldi thinks what a shame it is that this cop, such a great investigator, is not on the side of the just. But well, brilliant minds are often the ones most easily misled. When people get to thinking too much, they usually end up in the shit.One by one, he throws the documents onto the burning logs and watches, fascinated by the spectacle: the white paper first changes colour, browned by the fire, then, when it hits 451 degrees, it ignites with a little explosion. The flames devour it, blacken it, change its substance, its essence, but it’s still possible to make out the writing amidst the dark mass. The heat contorts the paper until the material bearing the words is vaporized, broken up into thousands of particles, some floating up and disappearing, others incorporating themselves into the charred mass, where everything is uniform, where nothing lives, where finally the words die, where all that remains are ashes, inert, sterile, silent, the final remains of the facts, a hymn to purification. Blank and clear once more, as blank now as nothing.
Eva’s ears sense the moment the aeroplane doors close. Out of the window, the bus that brought the passengers to the stairway pulls away and heads back to the terminal. The mechanics move away from the plane talking distractedly among themselves and the signalman directs the aircraft as it manoeuvres itself towards the runway. Eva feels strange. She’s always been scared of flying, but now, as the chassis bumps over the gaps in the paving, she doesn’t feel anything, no fear at all. As the plane files past the tall trees and traffic on the adjacent Avenida Costanera, watching the office workers on their way home, she feels empty in the absence of fear. She thinks about how it wouldn’t matter to her in the least if the plane crashed and she died along with all these strangers surrounding her.
As this is happening, not so very far away, Marcelo, the court office boy, has shut himself away in his room at his parents’ house. The shelves on the bookcase warp under the weight of all the books he has to digest to become a lawyer. On his lap he has an envelope full of photocopies that he’s paid for out of his own pocket. He pulls one out and starts reading: From: Superintendent Venancio Ismael Lascano. To: Doctor Humberto Marraco, Judge. Elías Biterman, murder…
The pilot announces he’s received clearance for take-off. Eva’s too relaxed in her seat, like a condemned prisoner who is resigned to her execution, just wanting everything to be over with. Nothing matters to her and she doesn’t really understand why she’s even on the plane, given that she couldn’t care less about anything. And then it happens. Just as the aircraft comes to the top of the runway, she feels it. Like a little bird fluttering its wings, like a bubble floating around in her belly. It’s her child, here to remind her with this, its first perceptible movement, of the reason why she’s fleeing the horror. She puts her hands on her tummy, where nervousness nestles when the plane picks up speed, where the seed grows and where she finally starts to feel that marvellous sense of fear that tells her she’s alive and that she has the very best of reasons to carry on in this world. Two rows back, Doctor Fuseli, disguised as a North-American tourist, adjusts his seatbelt for take-off.
Marcelo finishes reading Lascano’s report. He has analysed the evidence, the documents and the expert opinions, all with the meticulousness of a diligent student. Then, thinking that some day these documents could prove useful, he places them on a shelf in his library between two books: one, What is Justice? by someone called Kelsen, a gift from his father when he passed his entrance exams; the other, A Universal History of Infamy, a collection of short stories by Borges.
When the plane breaks through the cloud layer, which shadows the earth, and the starry sky appears, everything that’s happened starts to become part of the past. The present is this kick, this child growing in her belly. This leaving behind at a thousand miles per hour the horror and the cruelty of men. She thinks, she feels, that she’s inhabiting the future and that for her child’s sake she’ll have to heal herself, recover and rehabilitate, go back to believing that a better world is possible.
For the moment, she’d rather not know that the future is a place that only exists in the imagination.
BITTER LEMON PRESS
First published in the United Kingdom in 2010 by
Bitter Lemon Press, 37 Arundel Gardens, London W11 2LW
www.bitterlemonpress.com
First published in Spanish as La aguja en el pajar
by Grupo Editorial Planeta, Buenos Aires, 2006
Bitter Lemon Press gratefully acknowledges the financial
assistance of the Arts Council of England
Work published within the framework of “Sur” Translation Support Program of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, International Trade and Worship of the Argentine Republic
© Ernesto Mallo, 2005
© Grupo Editorial Planeta, Buenos Aires, 2006
English translation © Jethro Soutar, 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced in any form or by any means without
written permission of the publisher
The moral rights of the author and the translator have been
asserted in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs, and Patents Act 1988
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library
eISBN : 978-1-904-73862-6
Typeset by Alma Books Ltd
Printed and bound by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire
Ernesto Mallo, Needle In A Haystack
