Chapter 4
Night came and the cool winds were blowing through the streets. Rego had walked Rosa home and he wandered for a while thinking about the task ahead.
He came upon the neighborhood cathedral, Santo Marco, and he stopped in front of the steps by the front door. His grandmother attended Mass regularly before his grandfather died, but her health deteriorated rapidly after that. As the years passed, the other parishioners noticed her less and less at Mass. Since she stopped going, Rego started to skip Mass as well. She encouraged him to go, but when he left for Mass, he just skipped the other way down the street towards the playing fields and ended up playing football all Sunday long. But he used to attend Mass with his grandparents every Sunday. He even became an alter boy.
Rego stood in front of the door to Santo Marco’s and stared at the door handle. Slowly, he opened the large door and walked in. He dipped the tips of his fingers in the holy water basin and made the sign of the cross, looking at the large alter way down in front. He walked slowly up the aisle and sat at the end of a pew in the middle of the cathedral. He looked at the high vaulted ceilings, decorated very ornately. The familiar stain glass windows lined the sides of the church and the same crucifix hung high above behind the altar. He saw the door to the Sacristy where he always had to go to don the alter boy’s cassock before Mass. He gazed at the large candle holders that lined the main alter, the same ones he would light before Mass started.
He sat for a while just looking straight ahead. He wondered what it would be like traveling by sea. He had never been on a ship before. He had never been to Rio de Janeiro or Sao Paulo. But he had been to Salvador once before when he was six, right after the terrible murder of his parents. His grandfather thought it would be good for him to get out of the big city for a while and help him adjust to the loss of his parents. He tried to remember being there but only had scant memories of his time there.
All he remembered was his Uncle Enso loved to give him coins. Each time he saw him, Uncle Enso would say, “Rego, do you have something behind your ear?” Or he would say, “Rego do you have something up your sleeve?” Each time Enso would put his hand to Rego’s ear, or his shirt sleeve, and quickly produce a shiny coin. “Here, it’s a good thing I caught it, you almost lost it!” He gave Rego the coin every time and Rego would smile and give him a hug. By the time he returned to Brasilia, he had a whole pouch full of coins.
Rego pulled the kneeler down and leaned forward to kneel on it. He leaned over the pew in front of him and began to pray silently, “Lord, I know I haven’t come to see you lately. I’m sorry about that. But you give us the nice sun on Sundays, so it is hard to not go to the fields and play football.” He thought for a few moments more. “Lord, I had forgotten how beautiful your house is inside. I didn’t know I missed it so much. I will come more often, I promise.” He lowered his head and became frightened. “Lord, I have to go away and I am very scared. I don’t know why this task has been given to me, but I feel I must go and do it. Watch over Grandma and Rosa, ok?” He put his head down on the back of the pew and began to sob. The responsibility began to overwhelm him. The fear of the unknown was too much to bear. He looked up at the crucifix hanging on the wall and said, “Will you watch over me, too?”
After he was done praying, he walked over to the prayer candles where many were brightly lit. He pulled a coin from his pocket and put it in the basket near the stand. He picked up an unlit candle near the top row and lit it from another burning candle. He stood for a moment, just watching it melt the fresh wax.
“Rego?” said a low voice behind him. He turned around to see his old pastor, Fr. Renaldo.
“Father, hello, how are you?” Rego said, surprised to see him. He pulled himself together and wiped his face quickly.
“I’m sorry if I startled you. I don’t normally see people in here so late,” responded Fr. Renaldo. “I haven’t seen you in here for quite some time now.”
Rego felt ashamed but thought of a quick answer. “It’s my grandmother. She doesn’t get out much anymore and I have to keep an eye on her now.”
“Are you alright, my son? You seem troubled,” Fr. Renaldo said, concerned. “I’d be happy to talk to you about whatever is on your mind.”
“No, that’s OK. I just wanted to light a candle. You know, not having been here in so long,” Rego said looking back towards the candles. “I had better be going now, Father. It was nice seeing you again.”
“Of course, Rego. Hopefully I will see you at Mass,” he said with a smile.
Rego started to walk down the aisle towards the door. Then, he turned around and said to the pastor, who was still standing by the candles, “Father, have you ever been on a journey and when you got there, you didn’t find what you were looking for?”
“All of us have a journey in life,” he answered. “All journeys are not without a purpose, though. You may not find something in the end, but something always finds you.”
Rego thought for a moment on what he meant, but he did not understand. “Thanks Father, I’ll remember that. I better get home.”
“Good night, Rego,” Fr. Renaldo called out to him.
Rego unlocked the door to his apartment when Mr. Vittierri stuck his head out of the door across the hall.
“Hey Rego, is that you?”
“Sorry Mr. Vittierri, am I making too much noise?” Rego asked.
“Now that you mention it, yes you are,” he said sarcastically. “But, that’s not why I came out here. I caught some nutcase in an overcoat messing around with your door today. But I ran his ass off and told him not to come here again.”
Rego remembered the man from last night that stood over the dead man in the alley. How did he find me so quickly? he thought. Did he see me last night? He looked at Mr. Vittierri, “Did he say why he was here?”
“I don’t know, I thought he was trying to mess with the lock but he said he just wanted to talk to your grandma,” Mr. Vittierri said. “I thought he was full of it, so I told him to beat it. I don’t want any rotten salesman in here. I just thought I’d let you know. Good night, kid.” He quickly shut the door.
Rego went inside to see his grandmother asleep in front of the TV again. He touched her on the shoulder and said, “I’m home Grandma.” She twitched her head a little to the side, but didn’t open her eyes.
He sat in his room, thinking of what he should take with him. He decided he should take as little as possible. He stared at the satchel now sitting on his desk again. Over on the mirror, stuck to the side, was a football card with a picture of Pelé. He wore a yellow and blue uniform, dribbling the ball down the pitch. It was the only trading card he had of his favorite player. He took the picture down and slid it into his coat pocket along with his identification papers. The first match of the World Cup wasn’t until the first week of June, nearly two weeks away. He wondered where he would be then.
All he packed was his jacket and a comb and toothbrush. He stuffed them into one coat pocket and a clean shirt in the other. He knew it may get cold at night on the ships.
He could hardly sleep at all. The strange man in the overcoat obviously knew where he was now and he was after the case. So, he had no choice but to leave now. Plus, he didn’t want to put his grandmother in danger. He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about what Fr. Renaldo had said. “What if I get there and it is all for nothing?” he thought to himself. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but sleep escaped him most of the night.
Early the next morning, Rego was up and ready to go. He had only slept a few hours but was full of adrenaline and energy. It was still dark outside on this early Saturday morning.
He quickly made some extra sandwiches in the kitchen and stuffed them into a brown paper bag and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. He nervously walked into the den where his grandmother had slept all night in her chair. He
quietly walked over to the TV and switched it off. Then he knelt down beside his grandmother and put his hand on hers.
“I’m sorry, Grandma, but I have to go now,” he said sadly. “And, I don’t know how long I will be gone. But, I promise I will be back as soon as I can. I promise.” He looked at her pale face with her eyes closed, then he looked at the floor. He gazed at her one last time, then stood and grabbed his coat and the leather satchel and quietly walked out of the apartment. As soon as the door shut, his grandmother lifted her eyes open with sadness.
Coutier stood behind a corner in the darkness. He watched as Rego stepped lightly down the stairs and walked briskly down the street. The satchel was flung over his shoulder. “I knew it!” he thought to himself, and began to follow him.
Rego’s grandmother stood in the doorway of his bedroom. A wrinkled frown was pasted to her expression as she panned over the room. She stood in her rumpled nightgown with her hands folded together in front of her. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep.
She looked at the mirror that once held Rego’s trading card with a picture of Pelé on it. She knew of only one reason why Rego had left. She stared in silence with a look of sadness and loss. She shook her head and said quietly to herself, “Enso.”
The sun had started to rise by the time Rego reached Rosa’s building. She was already waiting for him by the stairs. Rosa looked as if she had not slept much either.
It was one of those typical Saturday mornings in Brasilia. The traffic on the streets bustled. Pedestrians walking everywhere, people on bicycles riding all around. People were out running their errands before the work week began again.
They waited at the bus stop to catch the main terminal bus back to the station. Rosa was quiet, sitting on the bench, not looking up from the ground as they waited. Rego looked at her every couple of minutes but she never looked at him.
“He will be waiting for us at the station, right?” he asked in hopes she would talk to him, or at least look at him.
“Yes,” she said softly, still staring at the ground.
Rego stared ahead of him and never said anything more until the bus arrived. They both sat together near the front of the bus.
Then, Rosa finally broke the silence. “I made you some biscuits for lunch. I even put butter on them,” she said, handing him a brown paper bag. She placed it on his lap and laid her hand on top of his and just stared at their hands. She looked at him and wrinkled her nose and cleared her throat. “Don’t eat them all at once like a pig!” She pulled her hand away and turned to look straight ahead again.
Rego smiled at her. “What would I do without her?” he thought. “I won’t eat them all at once. Thanks Rosie,” he said and leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Hey, stop it, I just put makeup on,” she said, pushing his face back. Rego just sat and smiled at her. He loved her spirit.
They arrived at the bus station to a scene of marketplace chaos. People were everywhere because on Saturdays there were always open-air markets with fresh vegetables and fruits. The shop keepers knew to set up near the bus station for people to buy food to take on weekend trips and getaways. It was a common sight on a Saturday. Amidst the throng of buyers and sellers were the buses lined up in their assigned spots. The buses were different sizes but were all painted white and light green. Each one had a sign in the front window and another on the side window, near the door, specifying their next destination. Rio de Janeiro, Sáo Paulo, Vitória, Cuiaba, Sáo Luis, Salvador, Aracaju, Fortaleza, and even Porto Alegre. Those were just some of the buses going to towns and cities around the country. There were also rows of buses heading for faraway cities outside of Brazil, such as Buenos Aires, Asunción, Larstown, Caracas, La Paz, and Lima. These buses were painted in the same fashion but also had a thin yellow stripe running across the top to signify it was an international bus.
This was the center of activity in Brasilia and Saturday was the busiest day of the week. Besides the routes heading out of the city, there was also the local section of bus changes. The bus from southern Brasilia pulled into the crowded station and passengers began to file off. Rosa and Rego walked together in the middle of the throng.
Coutier was never far behind, but keeping out of their sight. He soon met up with two other men dressed in the same overcoats and wearing the same dark brown fedoras. Their names were Gomes and LaBonne. Coutier motioned to them to look towards the ticket queue for Rio de Janeiro.
“There he is,” he said to Gomes and LaBonne, “See the coat?” They both could see the satchel under Rego’s arm and his jacket thrown over it. “Don’t lose sight of him. Wait for my signal then we will close in on him.”
Gomes and LaBonne went in different directions to try and surround them. They walked slowly ducking in and around the hordes of people. They kept within sight of Coutier as well, and awaited his signal.
Rego and Rosa stood far back in a long line for the ticket booth. There was no telling what time he could get a ticket for the next bus to Rio. He looked around impatiently and nervously. He stood high on his toes to look ahead of the line. “Why is it moving so slow?” he muttered to himself. Then he spotted something familiar. Across the tops of all the people around him, he could see a familiar, dark hat slowly walking towards the front of the line. He looked to the right and saw another man wearing the same hat. He strained as hard as he could to see over all the people to see who was wearing the hat. Rosa looked at him curiously. Rego turned around to look behind him, and then he saw him. Rego and Coutier’s eyes locked on one another. Coutier stared at him like a lion stares down its prey. Rego gently took Rosa by the arm and whispered to her, “It’s time.”
Rosa looked at Rego with a determined, yet concerned look. “OK, follow me, quickly!” She grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd. She headed for the main terminal building, then turned and headed towards the marketplace. Coutier strained to see where they were going. He motioned to Gomes, then to LaBonne, and pointed towards the market and gave them the signal to follow Rosa and Rego. He tried to track them as well, moving his way through the crowd, pushing people aside. Rosa ducked to one side of the market and then made her way to a small building between the market and the terminal. Her brother, Joao, stood near a small doorway that said “No Entry” that faced the back side of the building. Joao’s eyes widened when he spotted her.
“In here, fast!” he said to her and Rego. They ran behind the small building and went inside and shut the door behind them. It was a small maintenance room with brooms and mops and various cleaning tools. Joao was employed at the station as part of the cleaning crew. “We must hurry. These are my friends to help us, just as you asked.” Three other young boys stood inside the room, dressed very similarly to Rego. They were friends of his from the football fields in the neighborhoods, Martin, Diego and Jorge.
“Thank you for coming, my friends. Nice shirts,” he said with a sly smile. “Ready to have some fun with these guys?”
They all smiled at him and held up bundles under their arms, and all had jackets thrown over them. Joao handed Rego a bus pass. “This ticket is good for any of the buses, so pick a good one,” he said, handing Rego a piece of paper.
Rego thanked Joao and said, “You are a good man. I owe you one.” He shook his hand and said, “Take care of your sister, OK? She makes the best biscuits.” Joao nodded with a smile.
He looked at Rosa, “I guess this is it, pretty eyes. Wish me luck.” She grabbed his hand gave it a hard squeeze.
“Just come back, alright?” she said as she stood close to him. She looked at her brother and then decided she didn’t care if he told their parents. She kissed Rego’s lips quickly and passionately. “And don’t screw this up, you hear me? Now get out of here.” Rego smiled at her one last time and then looked at his accomplices.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly.
They all slipped one by one out of the maintenance room and blended into the crowds of people. All except Rego, who waited behind the building. Martin slowly headed to the line for Rio, Diego went to the line for Sao Paulo and Jorge casually walked over to the line for Salvador. They stood far away from one another trying to stay out of sight. The three men with the dark brown hats marched through the crowds, scouring over everything. Coutier went one way, Gomes another, and LaBonne a third way. They spread out, combing through the queues.
Suddenly, Gomes spotted him, standing far up in the queue holding the satchel and jacket under his arms. He smiled and quickly pushed his way towards Rego. Meanwhile, LaBonne spotted Rego standing in another line. At the same time, Coutier caught a glimpse of Rego in another. Each agent pushed and shoved his way to the front where Rego huddled over near the ticket booth.
Coutier strode up behind Rego and with a look of victory, grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Brazilian government! Don’t move!” He pulled the jacket away from his arms and a bundle of fresh mangos fell to the ground. Coutier looked in surprise to see it wasn’t Rego.
“Hey, that was my lunch!” protested Martin. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Damnit!” shouted Coutier. He threw the jacket to the ground in disgust and ran off.
Gomes grabbed Rego’s arm and said in a stern voice, “Don’t move, I am with the Brazilian government!” He pulled the jacket away and three papayas fell to the ground.
“My papayas! Look what you’ve done!” shouted Diego. Gomes’ eyes grew wide when he saw it was not Rego and slammed the jacket to the ground. “Hey, what do you have against my jacket?” Diego yelled to Gomes as he darted away.
“Freeze! Brazilian government! You’re coming with me!” LaBonne said to another fake Rego. Jorge lifted his arms in surrender and the jacket and handful of oranges and apples fell to the ground. LaBonne looked at him in dismay. “It’s not him! Damn!” He ran into the crowd, looking frantically for the real Rego.
Jorge shouted back at him, “Hey, I thought you were hungry!” He took a bite from one the apples and smiled as the agent stumbled away.
Rego ran as fast as he could to the foreign terminal and found the shortest line he could see for buses about to depart. He jumped on the bus, not even noticing where it was going, and hurried down the aisle and sat near the back on the left side. He tried to get as far from sight as possible. His heart pounded as he crouched in his seat and waited for the engine to start. The bus was crowded and all manner of people boarded the bus. Finally the doors shut and the engine was started.
The bus slowly began to pull away, and Rego remained huddled low in his seat. An old woman took her seat next to him as the bus began to speed up. He gingerly sat up as she looked at him crazily with his head held below the window. “I think we’re off the ground now, sonny,” she said laughing to herself. He sat up and smiled sarcastically at her.
Back at the terminal, Coutier, Gomes and LaBonne found each other among the horde of people. They were not amused and could not see Rego anywhere. They spun around, looking in all directions, fruitlessly. Coutier gritted his teeth and stormed off towards the terminal.
Rosa sat on a bench nearby and stared in the direction of where the buses pull away into the streets. Joao sat next to her, looking hopefully in the same direction. Soon they were joined by the three impersonators, Martin, Diego, and Jorge. They all congratulated each other on the success of their ruse. But Rosa did not smile. Her expression never changed, it was a simple look of pale sadness. As she watched the buses pull away, one by one, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Rego situated himself on the bus and put the satchel down on the floor between his knees. He began to look around the bus at all the people riding with him. Almost all of them had traveling bags or large purses with them, obviously settling in for a long journey.
He turned towards the old woman next to him and asked, “Where is this bus going, anyway?”
She looked at him as if he was crazy, once more. “Where do you think this bus is going?” she asked with sarcasm.
“I was hoping I jumped on the bus going to Caracas,” he said hoping to get the right response. The old woman laughed heartily at him, for what seemed an eternity.
“I hope not, young man. I may be almost blind, but when I got on, the sign said La Paz,” she said still laughing.
Rego rolled his eyes, and then put his head in his hands. He looked at he woman with bewilderment, “La Paz, Bolivia?” She nodded her head yes, still chuckling to herself. “Ah crap, that’s just perfect. How long does it take to get there?”
“Not as long as it used to,” she answered without hesitating. “It’s only about thirty hours, plus a change of driver at the border.”
Rego sat in his seat with a numbed expression. He had run so fast, he had jumped on the closest bus he could find. He shook his head at his luck. “At least it wasn’t going to Argentina,” he thought. The bus pulled over on the outskirts of the city to do a ticket check. The driver went down the aisle slowly checking each passenger’s ticket. Rego handed him the pass Joao had given him, he looked at it and quietly moved on. When he reached the back of the bus, the driver turned to head back to the front seat. Rego stood partially up when he came by his seat and asked him, “Excuse me, sir? Does it really take thirty hours to get to La Paz?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be silly,” he said. Rego’s expression turned hopeful. “It’s only about twenty-eight.” The driver casually walked back to the front and started the bus in motion once again.
Rego remained standing, staring ahead in disgust. He slumped back into his seat and mumbled to himself, “Shit.”