RSClef31

Like Ishmael, and like the Ethiopian shepard of the same name from the Ogaden region of Ethiopia who was forced to flee to Kenya by his country´s military, Kabede has been forced into the wilderness. Is he a bridge between Ishmael and Isaac? This wandering con man. Or lost in Limbo, never to be harrowed? I know that sounds dramatic, but I can´t help feeling the force of his exile as I wander through his abandoned home. Diego had the key for some reason - I´m not sure if Kabe gave it to him in some desperate attempt at safekeeping his property or if Diego demanded it on orders from Cagnazzo. Regardless, Kabe is gone and I am wanderng through his house. The furniture is there. The computer is there. The desk of course. I slide open the drawer and find a few receipts and some bills. No gun. No clues. The desk had a small framed photograph of his wife and son back in Israel. That´s gone and I assume Kabe took it with him. The diplomas are gone as well ... strange. They were framed and would not fit easily into a small bag. How much time did Kabe have to collect what he could and flee Mar del Plata? What had Cagnazzo said to him? Or was it Diego who applied the pressure? Was it a phone call? I have no idea and not much inclination to ask. But I´m curious as hell.

I go through each room as methodically as I can. I´ve been assigned the task by Pipo who phoned soon after we got back.
Andá a lo de Kabe y a ver si dejo algo he had commanded me with a casual tone. So I´m here seeing if he left any trace ... of what? Well, clearly they want to know if he left any money. Bank accounts. Residency. DNI ... not sure. I doubt he had the time or the inclination to do the paperwork. Why leave a trail? I gather they think we were friends before I became aware of the scam and that I may have useful information about him. Is this a test? Unfortunately I know little about his life beyond what he told me. I try to think of something he said ... something that might point towards a bank account in Montevideo. Or Switzerland. But what good would that do? Don´t worry about it. That´s Cagnazzo´s job. I´ll just try to dig up something and they´ll do what they will with the information I provide them. I move to the kitchen and open the cabinet drawers. A few utensils. Some plates. Some coffee mugs and some plastic cups. The same ones I drank from. But nothing else. It´s hot and stuffy in here. I open the kitchen wndow and let in some warm, muggy air.

I move to the bedroom, opening the shutters to let in more light. It feels like an empty hotel room. Nothing that would mark it as a home. I think Kabe had a reasonable amount of time to leave. Maybe a day or two. I recall that his home had felt more lived in. There had been some clutter before hadn´t there ... ? Damn! I don´t make a very good sleuth do I? I open the closet and find nothing. Not even a few hangers. I turn around and stare at the bed. There is a bedsheet folded carefully. I gather it up and shake it open vigourously. Nothing. I let it fall back on the mattress. On impulse I reach under the bed besides the left front corner. The rough underside of the wooden planks scrapes against my finger tips. I move my hand along a little ... what´s this? It feels like plastic. I pull at it and it pulls away a little ... it´s tape. What´s it holding in place down there? I lay down on my back and squirm under the bedframe. It´s a bundle of bills. I carefully peel back the tape and emerge from under the bed sweaty and victorious. I slowly pull the notes away from the tape, trying not to damage them. No ... wait. They´re Shekels?? Yes ... I think so. The denomination is 500.

I turn on his computer and hope it is still working normally and not infected by some viral time bombs he may have left. It starts up and works fine. His desktop is that photo of his wife and son. I wiki Shekel and find out that the 500 Shekel note has just recently been issued ... this year. I wonder if these are counterfeit. Impossible to tell. What the hell could we do with fake Shekel bills?? I read on ... it´s a hard currency, convertible in most places. We´ll have to go to Buenos Aires to do that I suppose. I´m sweating onto the keyboard. I hustle into the bedroom and wipe myself dry with the discarded bedsheet and then return. Nothing that could help an amateur like me decide if they´re counterfeit. Is that why he left them? Maybe Kabe figured that Shekels would be an unusual sight at a money changer ( I grin at the phrase ) and decided not to take them with him. Let´s count the bills ... 50 five hundred Shekel notes. Let´s see ... the Shekel is worth about US $0.26 so that would be ... 25,000 x 0.26 = US$ 6,500. Not bad. I look up nervously from the pc. No, no one is looking through the window. But I feel anxious. What do I do? And wait ... was it Kabe who left these bills? I go to the kitchen and pour some tap water into a cup. I take only a sip but it helps. It must have been Kabe. There´s no way Cagnazzo could have got a hold of fake Shekels and stuck them under the bed. Ok, so now what do I do? I decide to walk and think, so I turn off the computer, close the windows and shutters and lock the front door behind me. The bills bulge uncomfortably in my pant pocket. I turn down Storni and head for the coast and the boardwalk. It´s a nice long stroll along the shore and it´ll give me some time to think this over. I´ll have to say something. Maybe they´ll have me head up to Buenos Aires and change them to Pesos or Dollars. Will they let me keep a commision? A breeze comes up from the sea and provides some relief. I quicken my step and work on what I´ll say when I get back to Camet. I look up at the sun. It´s fierce this time of year but there´s not much I can do. I need the sea more than the shade. I walk on.