Dossier - short story - Latin America: Private Eyes & Time Travelers

"As for Silvera," he said, tapping the ashtray with his fingertip, "I have little to say," he added, furtively casting a glance at the young man's pale face. He felt a certain vexation in going against Silvera, perhaps it was the latter's youth that restrained him, perhaps his enthusiasm, probably his tie with that beautiful shade of blue. "As for Silvera," he repeated, "I'm sure that he didn't remove the page from the dossier: he would be the first one to suffer from it. He tries to score points and I imagine he must feel piqued that the discussion is not revolving around matters of content. I just will point out his limited experience and his ambition. I think that if he had conscientiously believed in the virtues of the case, he wouldn't have passed it to Arozmendi. In that case, I presume, page fifty-six would be in its place now."

"Magnificent, Ricardo, I agree with you," said the man with the carnation, visibly riled. "But the guilty party, the guilty party ..."

"The guilty party? Well ..., Mr. Gomez Cuevas," he said with effective simplicity. "The page is hidden in the folds of a newspaper he has in his jacket."

The blonde girl let escape a long howl.

The sickly Curiel sat upright, blew his nose, and began fixing his tie.

Benedetto lifted up his head and began to laugh in a very peculiar way, blinking his bulging eyes.

"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, Ricardo Galvan," said the man with the carnation, his brow wrinkled. "Between you and me, I didn't think you'd fall into the trap so easily. But T.J. was right: your pretensions to become his favorite are so boundless that they keep you from seeing beyond your own nose. You've used the methods here that we've instilled in you for using against our competitors, and above all, against the workers' unions that undermine our organization. I've always said that the head of staff position is dangerous. It gives the illusion of power, but you forget that here the only power is T.J. The same thing happened to Garcini."

"I warned you! I warned you!" shouted the girl, spinning around in her chair and bringing her notebook to her face. "Oh, my God! How could you have forgotten!"

Terrified, he leapt to his feet, dashed the chairs into disarray, and made two strides toward the door. But the nimble Curiel, clutching a gun, was already blocking his way.

COPYRIGHT 1994 Fairleigh Dickinson University
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group