El Mono, page 28
There were practical things to attend to. After a while, with little conversation, people busied about. Carlos was such a figurehead in the pueblo that many now wanted to do something to help. Timber was found and men started making a coffin. The family were not overly religious but possessed a deep spirituality which many shared. A funeral in which all the pueblo could participate was discussed and plans made. Daniel asked that it be postponed until tomorrow so that someone could ride over to Carlos’s cousin, Alfonso, and bring him and his wife, María, to attend; they were his closest relations besides Valentina, Natalia and Lucho. Daniel wanted to go himself but was torn between going and staying to lend support. Seeing his dilemma, Pepe volunteered to go with the bad news and promised to be back with Alfonso and María by nightfall.
Valentina and Natalia washed and prepared Carlos’s body. They wept over him as Daniel helped lift and turn his unyielding weight. The single hole in Carlos’s chest was the most awful and ugly thing that all of them had to confront. For the two women it was the final and cathartic experience that drained them of what emotion they had left and faced them with the awful truth of the life that Carlos had lost. Finally, however, when the body had been cleaned and dressed and stillness returned, there was a peace and resignation in the house that somehow transmitted itself to all those present. Carlos had gone. The shell that remained was a reminder but no more. His spirit was with the family; it existed in those he had loved and had left. Daniel felt this as well as the wife and daughter. They looked at each other and shared the same thought.
Friends brought food and drink around. Lucho had been dispatched to join the family next door where he regularly played, and Daniel, Valentina and Natalia joined him there for the meal. Later that evening Alfonso and María arrived with Pepe and there was a round of greetings and commiserations for all concerned. Men brought the coffin to the house and Daniel, Alfonso, Pepe and others helped place the body inside. The coffin stayed on the table.
Valentina and Natalia came to Daniel. They both looked exhausted.
‘Will you stay with us tonight, Daniel?’ asked the mother and widow. ‘We don’t want to be left alone now.’
‘I can’t Valentina.’ He kissed her bruised cheek. ‘I think you know why. I’d better return to my little place over the rise and I’ll be back to see you in the morning. But you should ask Alfonso and María.’
Valentina nodded dumbly. Tears welled up again and Natalia put her arm around her. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and control her emotions.
‘Yes. They can have my bed. I can’t sleep in there alone tonight. I’ll share with Natalia.’ Then she stopped and looked at her daughter. Natalia nodded as if to say: Go on, tell him.
‘Daniel, we wondered if you could say something at the funeral in the morning? They’ve organised a priest to come and he’s a good man but we’re not close. And Carlos wouldn’t want anything too Catholic. But if he could tell us, he’d say you should give a speech. Natalia and I, we want you to say something. And Lucho would like that, too, we know. You’re the only one who could do it and it would mean something to us. Something special. So please …?’
Daniel was humbled by their faith in him.
‘Thank you for asking me. Thank you for putting your trust in me. It would be an honour. I only hope I can do justice to the occasion.’
‘I’m sure you will. We love you, Daniel.’ Both Valentina and Natalia put their arms around him and kissed him, one after the other. Daniel blushed.
‘Thank you again.’ He backed out of the house. The falcon which had kept away throughout the day suddenly flew down and perched on his shoulder. She knew. It was time to go. Daniel waved goodbye, smiling shyly at the women who watched him retreat.
Everyone from the pueblo was waiting that morning. A grave had been dug by the two men who had been taken and then left by Carlos’s killers. They felt it was their duty. They couldn’t save him so they owed him this at the very least. They were helped in the last few spade strokes by any number of willing hands – men young and old, women and children, all anxious to show their respect. The small graveyard at the edge of the pueblo looked over the fields that swept across to the stream that flowed down from the mountain above – the same one that Carlos, Daniel and others had protested about since its waters had been polluted by the TMG mine. The bull that the pueblo had contracted had been kept in this field. Now there were cows that wandered over towards the graveyard, sensing that something was in the offing. Not just cows, there were horses that came over too. And dogs: Carlos’s long-haired mongrel and a number of others he had fought with in the village joined the party by the graveside.
There were eight men including Alfonso and Daniel that brought Carlos’s body from his house, across the rough tracks of the pueblo and into the graveyard. They slowly approached the small crowd gathered at the graveside; even the birds fell silent as they passed.
Valentina, Natalia and Lucho stood at the head of the grave and watched the coffin being lowered. They threw in flowers. Following their lead, many others did the same. The priest said a few words and then they all looked at Daniel.
Daniel began. He spoke of the man he knew; of the family that Carlos had raised and now must somehow live without him; of the pueblo he had given character to and which now had to learn to live without his lead.
Daniel spoke of the lands Carlos had farmed; of the generations that had preceded him and were buried alongside him in this small graveyard; and of the generations to come that belonged here and that Carlos had given his all for.
He drew his speech to a close: ‘How do you take the measure of a man like Carlos? By the love he gave us. By the mark he leaves on all of us. By the example he gives us to follow. His body might sleep here but his spirit is within us. He will never grow old like the rest of us and nor will the ideals he lived for. We must all go on without him.’
There were many tears that accompanied his words. Daniel looked round at the sombre faces as he spoke – all honest, uncomplicated people leading simple lives tied to these lands. Most were of mixed blood – mestizos – part Spanish, part Indian, with a stronger attachment to the latter heritage. Poor in material terms, lacking in formal education, but with a strong sense of community, of family, of sharing and welcoming outsiders like himself. He felt honoured to be accepted by them.
The silence that stretched out after Daniel’s homage to his friend was suddenly broken by a clump of earth that thumped brutally on top of the coffin. It was followed by others: a shower of brown tears that rained rapidly down, filling the dark oblong wound in the green of the graveyard. Then people slowly turned away. It was done: only a small gathering for a life that few outside the pueblo would ever know or care about.
Daniel was left thinking how he would go on. How could he make a stand against people who were capable of such violence – against people like Carlos and against the lands and mountain slopes that his soul inhabited? And if he could not stop it, what could he do to turn such violence away from these people and their world?
He was still standing there, thinking these thoughts when Alfonso came over to tear him away. Dear, kind Alfonso: as warm and considerate and predictable as Carlos was fierce, fiery and unpredictable.
‘Come on, Mono. There’s nothing else you can do just now. Let things rest and we talk about this later, OK? Come back to the house and we can have something to perk us all up.’
It was a brilliant, sunny day in Bogotá. Downtown, not far from the Universidad de los Andes, the big Triple F tower block dominated the skyline, dwarfing the surrounding competition of bank, hotel and business buildings.
Looking out of her top office window Karin noticed a couple of big black birds, chulos, circling nearby that must have strayed out over the city: idly wheeling in the blue, looking down on the streets full of cars, buses and people hurrying by. Those birds seemed to remind her of a different world, but she shook her head and returned her focus to the task she had set herself that morning. No time to be dreaming.
Karin was browsing through a stack of magazine and newspaper articles that had been downloaded from the Internet, plus several that she had had delivered direct to her office. They included numerous reports from Europe, North America and a few from countries as distant as India and Argentina. There were several ideas here. First, if the international arts festival she was pursuing was to have any media impact, it had to concentrate on quality, not quantity. Secondly, if quality and media coverage were the objective, then better to specialise in one art form only and focus on a contrast of styles from different nations and cultures.
What should that be? A big concert with singers and musicians from all quarters of the globe? Somehow a popular concert did not seem right. Maybe drama? From Shakespeare to modern theatre? Possible – though different languages from different cultures presented a complication. Film festivals were not such a good idea – there were so many others in the world to compete against.
Dance was Karin’s preferred option; it had no obvious competition from any other event in the region and there was no language problem. Ideas started to snowball. There was a feature on Lovisa Berglund, choreographer of an avant-garde dance troupe from Stockholm that had just wowed the critics in New York. She started chasing numbers that might lead her to the Swedish group’s agent. That led her to London. Yes, she learned, there was a possibility of fitting in a performance in Bogotá; they would call back and confirm later, but would this proposed international dance festival be interested in ballet as well? The Bolshoi had just been informed of a cancellation in Los Angeles, California, so, if the price was right, they might just consider a South American extension. It would not be the full company, just some key names – a prima donna and her partners. Would Bogotá be interested? Certainly!
It was now a matter of settling dates, discussing prices and confirming interest on both sides. Karin was certain that, once two famous dance performances were placed on the bill – one at the start of the festival, the other to close it – there would be absolutely no problem in getting others to participate: a modern dance troupe from New York; tango from Buenos Aires; salsa from Cali; maybe an Indian or Thai troupe to add an Asian flavour. She insisted with the agents in London that, if they could get them both, the Berglund and Bolshoi visits should be no more than a week apart; otherwise there was no deal.
Agreed. Karin thought she should warn her boss. No specific figure had been mentioned yet, but costs were bound to escalate. Then the phone rang. Just as she was thinking of him, so he called. And he was sounding particularly cheerful.
‘Karin – can you come in, please?’
Fields held the door open for his personal assistant. He was beaming all over his face and he took her by the arm to sit her in front of him on the sofa. He had a lot he wanted to say.
‘Karin, what’s the name of this researcher you are going to fly out here to undertake our environmental audit?’
‘Matthew Williams. Why?’
‘Yes, he’s the one. Well, he has apparently been saying nice things about us on the BBC World Service. I’ve just had an e-mail from corporate headquarters in Geneva to congratulate us.’
‘Well, that’s great, but he hasn’t seen us yet. He’s coming next month.’ Karin looked puzzled. She leaned back a little and crossed her legs.
‘No, but apparently you must have dazzled him because he has a favourable impression of our green agenda and has recently mentioned it in some televised debate. Headquarters picked it up and are saying well done. So – well done!’ Fields reached across and tapped her on the knee to emphasise the point.
‘Thank you, Morten. I’m pleased we are making them sit up and take notice. That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’
‘Absolutely, I think you are doing a great job for me and I’ve now got a way to say thank you. They’ve asked me to attend their next board meeting in six weeks’ time. Would you like to come with me to Switzerland?’
Karin’s heart jumped. A trip to Switzerland! She sat up.
‘I’d love to. That’s simply brilliant. Are you sure you want me there?’
‘Of course I am. You won’t only be good company for me but I want you there for the impact you are going to have on the Chairman and his acolytes. As you say – we want them to sit up and take notice of us and one way or the other we are going to transform the image they have of Triple F Colombia!’
Fields got up smiling and walked around the sofa. It was a ploy he had often used before when he wanted to have a good look at her.
‘The meeting will probably go over a couple of days and we will also need two days for flights there and back so we might as well take a week in all. I’ll send you through the details. We will stay in the same hotel where the meeting is taking place. Book the best flights and rooms, please. This is going to be an important occasion.’
Fields paused and came back to sit in front of her. He looked serious.
‘Karin, I want you to know what has been going on between me and the Board and why having you with me on this trip is important.’ He paused again to ensure that he had her full attention. He need not have worried; she sat up on the edge of the sofa, staring at him.
‘To be honest, the reason why I am the CEO of Triple F in Colombia is because the Board wanted me out of the way. I was perhaps a bit too successful in the USA and a bit too pushy for their taste, do you see? They thought they would give me the post here because they reckoned I would be in over my head. The farming side here was in a rut and the mining operation was losing money and going under. What with the news of terrorist attacks on us, there was no good news coming out of Triple F Colombia. Add to that the fact that my Spanish is almost non-existent, so they thought managing things out here would be too difficult, I’d make a mess of it and it would give them the excuse to get rid of me.’
Fields looked up. He bit his lip. ‘Karin – they had it in for me. Maybe some on the Board thought I was too big for my boots and it was time to take me down a peg or two. All the years I was working to impress them in the States, they were thinking of ways to try and make my life impossible. They even promoted my wife – you’ve seen her – who was working with me then and that started the process that led eventually to my marriage falling apart. Moving me here to Bogotá was to be just another nail in my coffin.’
Fields shook his head and looked as if he had been through a tough time. Karin’s eyes widened. This was an insight into his personal struggles that she had never guessed existed. Her heart went out to him.
‘But thanks to you and others here, things are beginning to turn around. Managing in Bogotá with you has recently been a dream. The gold price has soared thanks to worldwide demand plus financial instability in the US and Europe, and taking over TMG’s failing operation in Puracé gives us the chance to make mining here really profitable. Our share price has been rising. We have been able to borrow cheaply on the strength of that and more investment is thus on its way. We can afford to run arts festivals and sponsor research in the environment. The more we make news in those quarters, the more our image improves, the more our share price climbs and the more investments we can make. Our profits will inevitable catch up. It’s a win-win situation now. I’ve been sending this sort of news through to Geneva regularly since you’ve been here and up until now I have heard nothing. Now there is a chink of light shining through the curtain they’ve put around me. I’m invited to the next board meeting.’
Here Fields took a deep breath and looked closely into Karin’s eyes.
‘You’ve got to understand what this means. They did not invite me last year … but this year – yes – they want to see me. Either it is to say, “Thank you very much, we are closing you down …” or “Thank you very much, you are doing a great job and we are going to back your expansion in future.” Do you see? It is make or break time.’
Fields stood up and offered Karin a hand to stand next to him.
‘I want you to help me make it in Geneva. Make them think they cannot close us down. Make them think that there is too much talent and too much potential out here. Make them think they cannot sack me and stop everything here. I need you to help me win them over in Geneva.’
Not for the first time, Morten Fields took her breath away. What a responsibility! She looked into Fields’s eyes and saw that he meant every word. She trusted him. She took a step forward, put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. He tried to reach out to her but she stepped back and lowered her eyes.
‘Thank you for telling me all this. Thank you for putting your trust in me. I never suspected any of this was going on and what a burden it must have been for you. Thank you again for saying this – I’ll do all I can, everything, to help you. I only hope I can repay your faith in me.’
Karin looked absolutely sincere. And absolutely beautiful. Fields had to exercise all his self-control to hold himself back from throwing himself at her. For a second, he was lost for words. All he could do was to hold and squeeze her hand. The air between them was charged with electricity and both could feel it.
Then Fields stumbled back to his desk. When he found his voice he was surprised himself at the emotion that he could not quite disguise.
‘Thank you, Karin. Every day I think appointing you was the best thing I’ve ever done here in Bogotá … Can you go and book the flights and hotel, please? Then when you’ve done that I think we both need to go out and have lunch!’
They were both in high spirits when they went out for lunch. Karin was wearing some new stiletto shoes to match her power suit and nearly stumbled as she passed through the glass doors of the Triple F building and out on to the street. She had to laugh at herself as Fields rushed forward to hold her arm and steady her. Neither noticed a man with fair hair and deep-blue eyes who was staring at them as they passed him by on their way to the restaurant.
