The terrorist

The Terrorist repeated like a mantra the chorus of that song. He liked this REM song, the very best one of the last “époque”. He got up slowly, savoring the morning. The light came through the window, overlooking the pool. A good life, he thought. He did not give a thought to the woman sleeping naked under the blue sheets.

He put his jean on and finished dressing on the way to the bathroom. He shaved carefully and took a quick shower. He left the bills on the nightstand and went out without waking woman. He knew he did not find her later.

The Advocate received a call in his office, but not before warning his secretary about not interrupting him during the next half hour. The voice on the other side had a gentle but energetic tone, and reaffirmed that by repeating some of his phrases. The advocate merely listened to him mostly in silence, just commenting any point to reaffirm his caller´s instructions. He wrote the number of the account where the money had to be transferred and the name of the police officer he should call immediately the “matter” broke out.

He never knew the name of the caller; neither was it asked.

The Israeli suddenly awake; for a moment he felt uneasy until he spotted the figure of the Guard, immutable, watching through the window. He tried to get back to sleep but he could not. He hummed a song of REM until sleep finally won the battle. He dreamed again with the machine gun fire, the screams, and the darkness surrounding his death. Again he awoke as usual, screaming and soaked by the sweat. The Guard just looked at him.

The Terrorist walked on Viamonte street but he decided to bend in Marcelo T. Alvear one. He enjoyed the landscape of Buenos Aires as a tourist; there he was an anonymous man, watching the people pass by without suspecting who or what he was. He smiled and felt even more powerful than he was physically. It was a "spiritual" matter, so to speak. He remembered that movie with Pacino and Keanu Reeves whispering about the advantages of staying in the trenches. "I'm like a shark, Kevin," Pacino said to a troubled Reeves; "They never see me coming." So he felt, precisely.

The Advocate made ​​a few more phone calls that morning. He let the tea get cool as an excuse to see his secretary came so he could admire that precious legs moving around the room like a cat impregnated in a Channel perfume he could not remember. When she came out, he checked the papers without reading them in depth, like looking at the situation in which he was immersed up too. He knew he was sunk up to the neck. It was something he had not sought “consciously”; however, he had to swim there in those rotten, dark waters, because I was not in position to say “No” to the Boss. He had had enough of those things; his wife had already left him and for his daughter he was almost a stranger, but as his wife always reminded each time they passed in court: he had sought it. A good lawyer should never engage in business with a customer, he thought. He still had the familiar picture on his desktop. There were all smiling faces; those were better times.

The Israeli took a light breakfast, discarding the eggs from the brine. He suddenly dropped the papers on his lap; while they scattered on the floor he feared that someone could see the red seal of the Embassy, with the English word "Confidential" printed. He looked around nervously, but  the employees of the hotel  were away from him and did not bother to help him. He noticed he had not shined his Italian leather shoes with a glance. The Guard assigned to him picked up the papers quickly without looking at them. The Israeli calmed down and settled the kippah, and resumed reading them where he left an instant before, pondering whether it was desirable that the Argentine government knew about the Iranian cell and the identity of the Terrorist. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the wall clock, rushing that coffee in order to not to be late for the meeting. It was 20 minutes to 9. Outside the city was bothered by the drizzle, and answered it with his usual concert of horns and insults.