15
AFTER SOME SPIRITED discussion on the way back to Medellín, Aguilar and Montoya agreed that returning Escobar’s money would be safer than letting him think they’d stolen from him. Escobar had strict rules against internal theft, and nobody ever made that mistake twice.
They delivered the suitcase of cash to him late that night at Hacienda Nápoles, along with some Polaroid pictures of Rodrigo’s head impaled on the spike of an iron fence outside the Casa de Justicia Robledo. Escobar flipped through the photographs, his expression serious, even stern.
“You did this? You two?”
“Yes, Patrón,” Montoya said.
“By yourselves?”
“We thought that’s what you wanted,” Aguilar said nervously. “You said—”
Escobar burst out laughing. When he was able to compose himself, he added, “Excellent work! I was right to trust you.”
“You like it?” Montoya asked.
“I love it.”
“We thought about putting up a sign. ‘Don’t mess with Medellín,’ or something like that,” Aguilar said. “But we decided that anyone who knows who Rodrigo is will understand the message without that.”
“True, true,” Escobar said. “There’s no sign needed. By tomorrow this will be in every newspaper in Colombia. The shootout in Cartagena, and then this. Everyone will know what it means.” His smile faded as he handed back the pictures. “Do you know why I wanted you men to do this thing?”
“We thought it was a test,” Montoya said. “To see how well we’d do.”
“A test, yes, of course it was that. Also, to see if you would steal from me.”
“Never!” Aguilar said.
“Yes, the money has already been counted. You clearly passed those tests. But more than that, I wanted you to see how hard it is to operate on your own. You did well.” He touched Montoya’s left arm, below the bandage. “But you were hurt. Just a flesh wound, yes?”
“Grazed me,” Montoya said. “I needed a few stitches, that’s all. And something for the pain. Jose had to drive home.”
“Two men can kill someone, no problem,” Escobar said. “But sometimes more is better. You were able to catch him with just a few of his men around, because he was careless. If he’d been smarter, you might have needed more. Five, ten, or more, like the night you went after Costa.”
“I think he felt safe in Cartagena,” Aguilar said.
“And I feel safe at Hacienda Nápoles. But that’s because I have thirty or forty men here most of the time. If we need to, we can hold off an army.” He nodded at his own sagacity, looking around as if to see his defenses. Aguilar could see three or four guys, playing cards by the pool, but nobody looked like they were on high alert.
“Strength in numbers,” Escobar went on. “I wanted you two to understand how important it is to be part of an organization. Not like your police force, but a real organization that’s dedicated to a cause.” He chuckled. “In this case, the cause is Colombia itself. Everything I do—everything we do—is for Colombia. I will be president of Colombia one day—no more of these politicians who are only out for themselves and their wealthy friends. It’s time for the people to take back the power that’s rightfully ours. So that, my friends, is what we’re doing here. What you’re a part of. There has been no greater cause, no worthier crusade, in history.”
Aguilar felt a flush of pride at being involved in Escobar’s undertaking. He had seen the man only as a gangster, a drug trafficker, but he was obviously so much more than that. And his ambitions were greater than Aguilar had known. So far, Escobar seemed to have succeeded at everything he had ever tried to do. He’d risen from a simple upbringing to be one of Colombia’s richest men—one of the richest in all of South America. He’d built a huge organization from nothing. If he thought he could be president, Aguilar saw no reason to doubt him.
“And also,” Escobar added, “Rodrigo had to pay. I hope he suffered.”
“I think he was still alive, Don Pablo,” Montoya said, “when I started to cut.”
Escobar grinned. “Too bad you didn’t get pictures of that.”
* * *
After receiving their reward—each got a third of the three hundred thousand pesos, and Escobar kept his own third—Aguilar and Montoya were invited out to party with some of Escobar’s men. They drove in a convoy back to Medellín and hit the clubs, drinking and smoking pot and dancing with the local girls for most of the night. Finally, with the sun just breaking the horizon, Aguilar dragged himself home. He was almost afraid to walk in the door, and did so sheepishly, half-hoping Luisa would be sound asleep.
She wasn’t.
She sat at the kitchen table, with a mug steaming in front of her. She wore a bathrobe over fuzzy cotton pajamas with rabbits on them. Her hair was down and her jaw was set, thrust slightly forward, and her expression bordered on ferocious. “Good morning,” she said without a trace of warmth.
“Hi, baby.”
“How long have you been back in Medellín?”
He hesitated, trying to figure out how to answer the question while causing the least amount of damage, and also because the floor seemed to be moving underneath him. He held onto the arched opening between the kitchen and dining room and waited for it to pass. “We got back from Cartagena yesterday, but had to drop something off at Hacienda Nápoles. Then some of the guys wanted us to go out with them.”
“I was at the window for a while, when you drove up. I was so excited to see you, but you drove like a crazy person, and when you parked I was afraid you were going to hit the building. Then you sat there for so long I got bored and made some tea.”
“I kind of fell asleep for a few minutes, I guess.”
“More like twenty or thirty. You smell like a liquor store after an earthquake. There’s lipstick on your shirt collar and glitter in your hair.”
“I’m sorry, baby. The guys wanted to go to these clubs. I drank and I danced with some girls, but that’s all, I swear.”
“You danced.”
“Yes.”
“And the lipstick?”
“I guess somebody must have put her head on my shoulder. When we were dancing.”
“I guess. Jose, I need to be able to trust you. Our baby needs a good father. But this…” She blinked back tears, and Aguilar felt like something people would scrape off their shoes.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to go out, but Alberto did, and everybody insisted. I didn’t really know what they meant when they said they wanted to party. Some of the guys got with girls, but I didn’t, except for a few dances. I swear. I would never be unfaithful to you. I love you too much.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” she said. “You’ve been away for days. I thought you would want to hurry home.”
“I did want to. But the guys—they’re not the kind of people you can say no to, you know?”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be hanging around them.”
That reminded him of the bag of cash he had in the car. At least, he hoped it was in the car. He was pretty sure it was. “Luisa, I know it’s awful, but I’m just doing what I have to for our futures. For you and our baby. We need to start looking for a house to buy this week—I don’t want our son to grow up in this apartment.”
“Or our daughter, you mean. Anyway, we can’t buy a house yet,” she said.
“We can! Baby, I have money—it’s in the car; I forgot to bring it in, but I’ll go get it. We have more than enough to start paying for a house. I’ve made so much in the last couple of weeks. You can quit your job, like we’ve been talking about, and just rest up and get ready for when the baby comes. After, you’ll be able to stay home and just be a mother. No more waiting tables.”
“What did you have to do for that money?” she asked.
Again, Aguilar paused, trying to think through the fog of liquor and dope. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do, though. I really do.”
“No, baby. You don’t. Not only that, but you can’t. The less you know, the better for all of us. You just have to trust me, that’s all. I’m looking out for us. I’m going to make sure our child grows up with all the things we never had. Whatever I do—everything I do—it’s for you. For our family. Everything I do is because I love you.”
At that, finally, her face softened. She pushed back from the table, her tea forgotten, and took him in her arms, drawing him close. He could feel the bump at her belly, where their child was growing. “Just remember that the thing our family needs the most is you,” she said. “The money’s nice, but we need you. I need you. I need you to be here, with me.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Aguilar said. He buried his face against the spot where her neck and shoulders met, inhaled her scent, kissed her. Working his way up to her lips, he kissed them and said, “Make love to me.”
She put her fingers against his chin, pushed him away. “First, take a shower. Then brush your teeth. If you’re still conscious after that, then we’ll see.”
He was.