What the hell do you mean he wasn’t there?! Just that, he wasn’t there. Did he escape? He couldn’t have escaped because officially he wasn’t even there. They never booked him? No. What happened? Depends who was at the station. If it was Roberti, Miranda paid him off with the money from the heist. If it was Flores, Miranda is probably dead and buried after a brutal interlude. What do you think? I want to believe it was Roberti. Why? Humane reasons. Mole isn’t a killer, he’s just a bank robber, and an old-fashioned one at that. Seems you kind of admire him. I’ve always admired intelligence and Miranda is a very intelligent guy, though his methods… Too bad he doesn’t use his intelligence for something worthwhile. What do you want me to tell you, Pereyra? That in a country like this one, where the government, in cahoots with the big companies, robs people of the desire to live, where a guy can spend his life busting his balls and all he gets is a pension that doesn’t even pay for his morning coffee… Better to be poor and honourable, Lascano. Oh, really? So tell me, why are the prisons so full of poor people? Because they don’t have money for lawyers. You’re an honest bloke swimming in a sea of corruption and trying to keep your nose above the shit. Let’s say, I’m a little more honest than the others, but the truth is, I don’t know if it’s out of conviction or cowardice. And I don’t really care to find out. I just hope, Lascano, that when I’m your age, I don’t think like you do. And I, Marcelo, share that hope for you, with all my heart.
Once outside, he decides to walk. He has in his pocket all the information he needs to get in touch with Eva. Juquehy… He likes that name. The problem now is where the money will come from to get there. Mole has vanished and he’s losing steam; he couldn’t care less about anything besides finding Eva and seeing if there is any possibility to begin a new life with her somewhere else. Eva is like the Promised Land. He considers going to the bank and telling Fermin that he has found out that Mole is in Brazil and he needs to go there after him. If he can’t get any money out of him, he’ll at least be able to get him to buy him a ticket. Once there, he’ll play it by ear. It’s not the most honest idea in the world, but that doesn’t worry him too much. He searches through his pockets for Fermin’s card, but in vain. He thinks that anyway it’s better to go in person. He picks up his pace as he heads to the bank’s offices in the centre. Along the way he rehearses his speech. If things work out well, great; if not, God knows what he’ll do.
The minute he enters the building, he sees that it’s been redecorated. Its previous atmosphere of a postmodern barracks has made way for the aesthetics of an expensive hair salon. The security people, the sheriffs who used to guard the entryway, have metamorphosed into young men wearing blue suits, with refined manners and eternally damp hair. The turnstiles have disappeared. The bank’s impressive emblem has been replaced by the image of a sun shining on an ear of wheat wrapped in a banner on which is written “ Banco del Pueblo ”, The People’s Bank. Lascano heads straight for the elevators, gets into one with a group of boludos — some things haven’t changed — and hits the “five” button. When he gets to the fifth floor, he sees there’s nothing there. It’s empty, the walls stripped bare. Two workers are gathering up their tools.
Hi. Good afternoon. Didn’t a bank used to have its offices here? Don’t know, could be, we’ve been clearing everything out because tomorrow another company is moving in. Who hired you? Tepes, the architect. Where can I find him? We’re also waiting for him, it’s payday.
The elevator opens and a short, stocky and irritable-looking man appears, wetting his fingers as he counts out a thick wad of banknotes. He sees Lascano, stops counting and stares at him. He looks him up and down and immediately understands that he’s a cop. He wonders what he wants. Just to be safe, he asks him to wait a second. He pays the workers and dismisses them.
Are you Tepes, the architect? I’m not an architect, superintendent. I’m not a superintendent. So we’re in the same boat. Might as well be. Might as well be. How can I help you? Look, I’m trying to find the people from the bank that used to have its offices here. You’re out of luck. Why? Don’t you read the newspapers? It was taken over by the government; seems they were involved in a lot of monkey business. Then word spread that the bank was about to go under and all the customers made a rush to get their money out. Then what happened? The directors grabbed the dough that was left and took off. You don’t say. That’s why I always keep my money in cash; you can’t even trust the banks in this country.