Memories of a Life That Never Happened

Chapter 83 - Ghosts

The following morning arrived damp but slightly warmer. It was past noon when Escobar watched a skeletal boy close the cheap aluminum gate behind him and hurry across the street. His weight and ragged clothes hinted at his underprivileged condition. And yet, upon reaching Escobar, he gave him a grin full of missing teeth along with a package. Quick steps drove him away as soon as Mica's stepfather tousled his hair and produced his payment. 

Escobar glanced around to confirm whether the street was deserted. As one would expect from any thriving backdoor business, the house the boy had just left had no sign to indicate its métier. It was just another nondescript house in an ordinary street.  

Nevertheless, it was likely that none of its neighbors ignored that it harbored a prosperous porn industry enterprise. So profitable indeed that its owner, whom Ishikura had retained for construction works in the past, made so much money in his new endeavor that he decided to quit his previous job.  

Ishikura was not kidding the night before, when he offered to help. In addition to providing Escobar with this place's address, during the little time they had, he came up with a plan to blackmail Nicholas into helping Mica.  

A weathered payphone stood at the corner of the street. Escobar walked up to it while tearing the envelope open. He skimmed the pictures inside it. They looked good and Mica was right. After a series of harmless shots from random places in Buriti came the wonderfully scandalous ones.  

Nicholas' son appeared in some, as clearly as in a living room portrait. His friend and the foreign girl also made appearances. The two boys who had brought Mica's birthday celebration to a tragic end were captured mostly with their backs turned to the camera. Some photos, however, showed their faces.  

Finally, there was this shot of a man.  

"¡Dios mío!1" Escobar was struck by surprise.  

As if the bag was a burning pot, he dropped it and the photographs spread on the pavement. He crouched to collect them, his neck suddenly stiff, his vision a bit blurred.  

He recognized that face. It had populated the newspaper many times in his former country. It belonged the most dangerous man Colombia had seen since the Medellin Cartel's downfall. His legs quivered and he had to sit on the curb for a moment to recompose himself.  

"¡Dios mío!1" he repeated to himself, rubbing the nape of his neck. A long, deep sigh left his lungs. "Of all people in the world Mica," he muttered almost inaudibly. "Did you have to mess with the cruelest drug lord out there?"  

Time became of the essence. Escobar pushed himself up. Shaky fingers dialed the number Ishikura had given him. 

"Hello?" he recognized the voice immediately.  

"Yes?" 

"I have the package. It's good. And also very bad." 

"How come?" 

"I have to tell you in person." 

There was silence for a while.  

"Hello?" said Escobar, fearing that the line was cut.  

"Where?" 

"I know a place."  

It was understandable that, save for Nicholas, who was a pragmatic man and had decided to throw his party in allegedly hunted grounds, the church's ruin and its environs were hardly a bustling place. That nifty characteristic made it the perfect venue for a secret meeting.  

Even before Escobar discerned Ishikura in the misty shadows, he spotted the orange tip of a cigarette glowing in the dark. Past the iron gates, sheltered by the darkness of the stone arch, he found his ally. 

"Thank you for coming," he said once the shadows consumed him too.  

"I cannot be long," Ishikura replied, blowing smoke to the side. 

Escobar's forehead ruffled with concern. 

"I am still not sure why you are doing this," he told Ishikura. "But I do not know where I would be without your help." 

A faint smile spread on Ishikura's lips. "You and I, we're not so different, Escobar." He raised his forefinger. "We're both foreigners." His middle finger went up too. "We are both haunted by the past." Then his ring finger followed. "And we both witnessed the atrocities a powerful man can commit." 

Panic drained Escobar's face of all color. Any scaredy-cat would take him for a ghost in that moment and run for dear life.  

"Don't worry. I know nothing of your past. You covered it well." Ishikura took another drag on his cigarette. "It's my job to make a thorough background check on each employee we retain and, well, the truth is-." He paused to exhale. "Your story starts the moment you arrived in Buriti. You don't exist before that."  

Ishikura flicked the cigarette with his middle finger, waited for Escobar to make a remark. Since he heard none, Ishikura continued.  

"Most people would see that an obstacle. But you see, I can relate."  

"Thank you. But why me?" Escobar pressed. "I mean... the photos." 

The orange tip drew an arch in the air.  

"Because you're a man of means. Because you want to do right by the people who welcomed you. The community that accepted you as one of their own. Because you have a family right here. And you want them to have a better life than you did." 

Escobar scratched the stubs on his cheek.  

"I still don't understand why you didn't use the photos yourself." 

"How exactly would I do that? Give them to the police?" Ishikura shook his head. "They would vanish before anyone heard from them. I chose you because you have a voice. Your neighbors listen to you. They trust you. Who would listen to me? I'm here for two months a year." 

"But why bring down the man you work for?" 

The faint smile returned.  

"You're a fool if you think these photos would bring a man like him down. I'll tell you what they could do. They could prevent his election. Although now I'll need to find another way to make that happen. Now," Ishikura said as he tossed and crunched the cigarette butt with his shoe. "Let me see those pictures. We're out of time."

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1 Dear God!