Chapter 10

In the morning a Mercury f100 diesel pickup arrived, with a trailer. A red-haired owner a huge beer belly descended and called out. Behind him an International 350 diesel packed with men pulled up.

--This is where they need men to work,"-- the man shouted from the road.

--The first crack," --Clark indicated to the girl, stepping out into the nation's outer corridor.

--Here it is. A dollar an hour,"-- he reported aloud.

The red-haired man approached.

--She's the boss. She's the one you have to get along with,"--"Clark" Zacharias introduced the beautiful girl.

--I bring a 30 HP Leyland and my .25 Filipino laborers ready to give him a hard time.

--I don't know if you have been told. Aside from the job. There are some details," --"Clark" reported.

The man looked at the bullet-riddled wall.

--I've heard something. I'm just telling you that I was with the Americans in Palua. There aren't many things that can scare you, other than seeing your wife's face when she gets up.

They shook hands firmly.

--Talk to the lady," --he reiterated, and the man with the hat in his hand bowed to Edali.

There was still some unfinished business. They took a break. Gunter's people didn't bother for a few days. They were probably rubbing their bruises. That gave him time to keep an eye on them at home. They were trying to lead normal lives.

The most exemplary was the ex-wrestler. He kissed his wife in the mornings. On Sundays he was the first in line at the Pentecostal church. He read the word. He looked for the children at school. Yes sir...an exemplary father. Of course he was. That didn't stop him from having a teenage African mistress in a trailer home on the outskirts of the city. There he would also arrive and kiss her passionately in the evenings before leaving, with heartfelt and passionate embraces. It was evident that the young woman, seeing no other opportunities more in keeping with her age, was emotionally hooked.

The wretch was another hypocrite. Racist with others. A sadist, a pedophile in the city's secret brothel.

So the old man with the pleasant smile approached through the fence of the elementary school playground at recess time. He called insistently to the boy, who stopped playing soccer to approach the fence from where the nice old man was calling him.

--Son. Good news for your parents.

--My father says I mustn't talk to strangers.

- That's right. This is a surprise for them. It's a TV award in Melbourne. 4 passes for Saturday's show. Here's the letter. They must confirm.

The man handed her a large, very colorful envelope with the logos of TV and the Saturday Show.

--It's a surprise. You must trust no one with this. Only them. At lunchtime to celebrate with the family.

--Sure?," --said the cheerful boy,-- "Is it true, the Saturday show?

--You will accompany them yourself. At lunchtime. Word of honor?

--!Word of honor!,"-- replied the boy cheerfully, running off with the envelope.

Punctually before twelve o'clock, the BMW Isetta with the former wrestler picked up his son. Diagonally to the corner house, the rusty Chevrolet Holden parked under a leafy cedar tree. Better there, to old chevrolet holden the midday heat. From the wide dining room window the familiar scene was visible.

The loving father seated at the head of the table, as was fitting, the tidy mother and the child's surprise. The envelope with the invitations to the show.

They opened the envelope and the pictures, with the passionate images of the loving father and the beautiful Ugandan showed. Likewise how the loving father, shirtless and young Thai and Chinese teenage girls on his legs, naked, surrounded by drunks, in the most illuminated of the brothel rooms behind the GFV billiard of the small town.

The screams were heard, the crashing dishes, the crying of children. The furious exit of the man, who blind with rage drove off leaving tire marks on the asphalt of the quiet street. The rusty Chevrolet Holden fired up and pulled out of the place.

"Clark" Zacharias didn't feel very honest about what he had done. But a wretch had to be exposed to his own kind.

On the third day of the former wrestler's lunch; Zacharias arrived at the pool hall. It was 9:30 in the evening.

He got out of the rusty Pick Up and saw the two men standing next to the Chevrolet Apache. The men saw him approach and one pulled out a knife. He swung it at them and sent it flying through the air. He then unloaded a massive punch in the man's face, which sent him spinning violently in the air and buried him face down on the ground. The other opted to run away. He checked the inert man, which was fortunate. He extracted the keys from the parked Chevrolet.

Then he went into the pool hall.

There they were.

--I come to play,--" he said, approaching the table, taking a cue stick where the man with the marked face was and another one playing, precisely the one who took the knick-knacks from the Cadillac, and then climbed on the hood of the Cadillac, plunging it down.

He crossed the cue stick with brutal force on the back of the other player, leaving him also inert on the floor. He pushed it away with his foot, to leave free space

--That day I suffered abstinence for my cookies, so he would learn not to take what is not his.