Little Diego sat there; his eyes fixated on the eggs. Big Diego, leaning his head to one side, was looking admiringly at Diegos mother. Then, while the boy was working on his thrice-heated omelet with pieces of coarsely chopped red bell pepper, the father and mother quietly discussed local news. Behind the wall, the younger sister, Maria, dropped off her blanket in response to the heat.
«People in the city are losing their minds. They say theres a maniac who kills children at night. Here, listen,» Dalma smoothed the pages of the local newspaper, the Buenos Aires Review, on the table, «Police Chief Don Rodriguez warns the local population of La Boca district, especially parents of young children. Do not allow children out in the evening. Or look after them yourselves»
«Buenos Aires is slowly turning into Mexico City,» the father nodded.
«This maniac,» continued the mother, sighing and pushing the paper aside, «beats the poor things to death just like that, and then cuts off their ears and sends them to the police station by mail, in a parcel. Its as if hes saying catch me, police! Here I am!»
«Yes, I heard parents from some schools in the lower city are doing night patrols on the streets. But how can you keep watch of everybody?» said the father, sitting on a creaking wicker chair, sipping Mendoza.
«Son, you shouldnt run around so late in the evening. This may be happening in La Boca and not in our hood, but better to be safe than sorry,» Dalma stroked Diegos ruffled, curly hair.
«Thats right, Diego. Until the police track down the bastard, come home before dark! Thats an order!» grimly asserted his father.
«Dont worry so much, ma-papa,» the boy hurriedly blurted out, pushing aside his plate, and planting a kiss on his mothers cheek. Already fleeing to his room, he added, «Its not like I go out alone in the evenings, Im always with friends»
Diego undressed, turned off the old desk lamp and climbed into bed. Outside, cicadas itched in a monotone voice, the neighbours window slammed shut, and a car passed by, rattling on potholes. An empty bucket suspended from the chassis characteristically tapped on each bump in the road. Cats cried out occasionally. The huge city was slowly preparing for sleep. For a while, Diego lay motionless. Behind one wall his parents were talking quietly, behind another Maria was turning and muttering something in her sleep. On the table among the books, the black and white sides of the gift Diego received from his father gleamed in the moonlight. Diego crawled out from under his blanket and while making a step in the dark, suddenly stumbled and nearly hit his head on the table. Stooping, he picked up his little black ball. Diego stood still in the middle of the room; his head leaned to his shoulder. At this moment, tears began to flow down his cheeks. Ill never leave you, Kuluangwa! Never! He swung and fell on his bed, hugged the old ball tightly and with it turned towards the wall, pulling his knees to his chest.
Pressing the ball in his palms made him feel light, almost electric bites. He was already used to them. They appeared every night. Completely painless at first, they gradually became more and more insistent. However, Diego was not afraid of them. On the contrary, he waited for these sensations with unconcealed trepidation and deep joy. At this point, a hard, warm lump always appeared in his throat, making him want to cry to weep bitterly. Thats what the boy often did, firmly wrapped in his blanket. He tore off the blackened patch off the palm of his left hand. Curled in pain that he suffered every night, he whispered, «Now, now, wait»
Clenching his teeth, Diego pressed his right thumb on the wound. He was so twisted in pain that he grabbed the edge of the pillow with his teeth, holding back a moan. A large drop of blood emerged from the cut and spread out over the palm of his hand. Carefully, so as not to stain the linens, he put his hand to the ball. The small hand went into the black surface, like into melted wax, and the soothingly warm ball firmly accepted it into its fold. It will hold Diegos palm until the morning, caressing and massaging it until the bleeding will stop. Now the boy was asleep. A happy smile roamed on his lips.
CHAPTER 10
To: Head of Intelligence Directorate,
General Staff of the Red Army, General I.I. Ilichev
From: Head of Second Chief Directorate,
Anglo-American Residence,
Lieutenant K.M. Litvinov
January 20, 1943
OPERATIONAL REPORT
Comrade General,
On the substance of the operation carried out to extract the secret dossier of Mr. Tesla, I inform you of the following:
FROM THE INTERROGATION RECORD
As per investigatory case No. 877, Lt. Aleksey Trofimovich Ivasenko (agent «Jack») and Lt. Pavel Magomedovich Goyev (agent «Hispanic») have been questioned.
Lt. Ivasenko and Lt. Goyev conducted a swift operation in New York with the objective of extracting Mr. Teslas document archive, which is in development. The operation involved a multiple-turn game, which did not lead to the intended outcome. We became aware that Abwehr agents stationed in the U.S. (Admiral Wilhelm Canaris personally oversees the operation) are actively interested in Mr. Teslas achievements. We have noted a high degree of activity of known German agents («Ron», «Stein», and «Arab») seeking to take possession of Mr. Teslas designs in the near future (in one-two weeks time), as part of the Vergeltungswaffe program («Weapons of Vengeance»).
Given these developments, we decided to accelerate our efforts to capture, copy, and destroy the materials before Abwehr agents manage to do so. I present the main points of the explanatory memorandum on the merits of Lt. Ivasenko as the group leader.
To: Head of Second Chief Directorate, C/A 174
Lieutenant K.M. Litvinov
Given that the object of our interest, Mr. Tesla, has lived a very secluded lifestyle in recent years, being completely devoid of all public and even friendly contacts, we made several attempts to infiltrate Mr. Teslas surroundings as service personnel of the New Yorker Hotel where Mr. Tesla has spent the recent years in solitude. However, we established that Mr. Tesla communicated only with the hotel staff he knew well. In their absence, his breakfast, lunch, and dinner were delivered to his room personally by the hotel manager.
On January 7 at 6:47 a.m., we successfully entered Mr. Teslas room (No. 3327) in the guise of stokers and chimney cleaners. In the evening of January 6, we were able to block the chimney of room no. 3327 from the roof, and through Mr. Colin, the concierge whom we bribed, we were invited as the repair team «J. Jameson & Co.» to examine and fix the chimney.
We decided in the first place to copy the archive and only then, being sure that we possess all necessary documentation, to try to persuade Mr. Tesla to cooperate. We established the location of the safe beforehand thanks to the concierge. The complexity of the lock did not present any problems.
We repeatedly asked Mr. Tesla to temporarily leave the premises, for a half hour at most, for the length of the «repairs» (so we could open the safe and copy the documents in his absence). Mr. Tesla was wearing a brand new, expensive black suit despite the early morning hours. He also wore a tie, as if going to a business meeting. However, Mr. Tesla refused to leave the room, seemingly suspecting something. He even wanted to call the hotel staff to get rid of us.