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Yes Allard ... I suppose it is like the Drakensbergs around here.
They´re closer to Cape Town right?

But Jans is distracted by my analogy with Cruz del Eje so I keep quiet. Jeb Hoerst, the geologist who found a sizable gold deposit for Latin American Minerals in Santa Cruz in Patagonia, is standing next to Jans and examining some core samples set out on the plywood table. It´s warm here in northern Cordoba and the drilling rig sits in the sun some 50 metres towards the road. It´s surprisingly small but it makes sense; lighter and easier to get through rough terrain. The fact that this rig was sitting just over the border in La Rioja and was available was another lucky stroke. Jeb had taken one look at the property and had told Jans it was worth hiring the rig rather than risk someone else scooping it up.

So here we were while Isa was back in town and Diego was at the hospital making inquiries. Or were the two of them at the hospital? I wasn´t sure and it was my damn kid! But I have to trust Diego to help me take care of Isa. And I do. Jans and Jeb lean over another sample and stare intently, exchanging a few short phrases that I can´t make out. Jans handed me a fifty thousand dollar cheque on Tuesday. Diego and Caranzo got a hundred thousand for the twenty year exploration lease. Plus the stock. For me. For Isa. For Diego. And for Cagnazzo of course. Jeb mutters something and Jans nods. I´m standing a few feet back for fear of dropping or breaking something. They stare at the drill, then at the sample, then look back at me. I raise my eyebrows optimistically and ask,

What do we have?
Allard we might just have a very large phosphate desposit, Jans says slowly,
that´s what we have.

I have drunk all my water. The other bottles are in the rented truck parked by the roadside. I feel thirsty, very thirsty. Is it greed and fear - a terror that this is all an illusion and will vanish any minute? I nod slowly and feel sweat accumulating on my forehead and in my armpits. It´s over 25 C even though it´s only mid September. Here in Cruz del Eje it´s dry heat of course, unlike Buenos Aires or Mar del Plata. The rig´s crew sits in the small pool of shade beside the machinery. They´re eating lunch and drinking mate. I still don´t believe all of this but I approach the table and stare distractedly at the samples. Crushed rock and earth of varying colors in a tube like shape is all I see.

How soon can we get these to Acme in Mendoza?
Tomorrow we can fly them in I think. And have the results by ... maybe October?

Jeb looks a little doubtfully at Jans. I wonder if he´s dealt with that lab before. In any case, things are moving fast. If it really is a large phosphate deposit we´ve hit paydirt. With all the need for fertilizer here and in Brazil and hell ... everywhere ...
maybe we could let Bunge or Potash buy us out and ... stop it Allard. You have a cheque for fifty thousand and you have stock that might be worth something in a while. Leave it at that and let Jans take care of the rest. I´m also hungry but I don´t want to look impatient. Some of the work crew are now carefully loading the samples into metal tubes and carrying them towards the truck. We´ve only drilled three holes and there´s much more work to do while Jans flies back again to Toronto and sprinkles his enthusiasm in all the right places. He mentioned another private equity placement and I try not to worry about dilution. This is all smoke and mirrors so far and as long as my stock is worth something someday I should be very very happy. I´ve managed to pick up just enough jargon to make a fool of myself but my main job is to keep Jans informed while he´s away so that Jeb can focus on the drilling and the samples. That means I´ll be spending a lot of time at this site sweating like a pig and supervising a crew who specialize in something I know nothing about. We pull up in front of our hotel, a white and red stucco pile with worn tiles and cheap furniture. As we troop into the lobby to wash up and have lunch the thought occurs to me - I finally have a real job. I have to laugh a little as I shower quickly. Keep it together I tell myself. Cash the cheque; Cagnazzo will help you there. Keep the documents with your stock options safe and do your stupid little job for Jans without making any obvious mistakes. I towel off and pull on some pants and a shirt just as Jans knocks on the door.

Let´s go. Lunch and then I have to get to Mendoza.

I wonder where Isadora is as we pile back into the truck and head to a local parilla to eat some more beef. Jans lends me his cellphone and I manage to get a hold of her. She´s just undergone a checkup and they´ve done an Ultrasound. And I wasn´t there! I try to keep my voice calm but at least Isa agrees to meet us at the parilla. She´s starving of course. Jans turns around from the front seat and winks at me,

First child Allard?

I nod and grin sheepishly. Everyone laughs. Even the foreman who´s driving.

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We had settled into a long lunch with several courses served by a waiter who was no longer young. The tables had those worn linen tablecloths that you hardly see in Canada anymore. It´s obviously been a tourist attraction for decades. And I was here. In 1981. Or 1982. As a young management trainee for a bank on a temporary posting to the Buenos Aires office. I had spent Christmas at Punta del Este in Uruguay and New Year´s in Mar del Plata. So it was likely the first week of 1982. I had sat over there at the northern side if you will; by myself ( ¨estas solito?¨ the waiter had asked with raised eyebrows ) and I had eaten a pasta and clam or scallops dish. I don´t think the decor has changed much since then but my memory is, of course, selective. Cagnazzo filled Jans in on the politics in Cordoba with me volunteering the occasional addendum. Doctora Mazz flooded Jans with data but he quickly cut through her jargon and she realized he´d be making up his own mind based on his own geologists´ assesment. With the cognac and flamed crepes ( a little too seventies for my liking ) it was decided that Jans would fly up and take a look this week. So he is interested. Then Jans turned to me and said clearly enough for all to hear,

Allard, I need to talk to you.

Eyebrows were raised but I smiled as casually as I could and answered quickly,

Of course. Let´s take a walk down the coast.

Cagnazzo called the waiter over but Jans scooped up the tab and paid with his card. We both stood but everyone else did as well and it looks like we´d have to explicitly ask for some time apart. I wait till we´ve filed through the door with it´s port hole opening and are outside. Waving a hand carefully at Jans I say,

Vamos a hablar un toquecito y despues nos juntamos todos. Les parece?
Y ... dale.

It´s Cagnazzo who answers and everyone is smiling suspiciously. Even Isa. For God´s sake honey, trust me I say with my eyes as I look quickly at her. We head quickly down the wharf with the rest of them following us at a distance but Jans seems in a good mood. We chat a little about the World Cup and Bloemfontein, where he´s from. At the sidewalk we turn away from the Casino and Jans says,

Allard, you really have to relax. The report is good and I think we can do something. Tell me man, how long have you been here?
Ah ... a couple of years.
So, how do you like it?
It´s complicated, tricky I mean but me and Isa ...
Yes of course. So you´ll be here for a while longer?
It´s my home Jans.

He pauses and I glance back at the rest of them.

Good. Listen. I´ll give you one hundred thousand shares and the rest of them can divy up say a million shares. If it gets to market of course ... Plus I can advance you fifty thousand.
Uh ... yes. But we should ...
Allard. I´m going to trust you. I know it´s been a while since you worked in an office but I need someone to keep me up to date. Diego, it´s his land. Mazz knows her stuff but Cagnazzo ... I´ve met his type before. You, we, need him on the team. I know how things work here. But you´ll be my point man. Can you do it?

I´m trying not to imagine what 100,000 shares would be worth at say 65 cents or say 1.20 ... I breath deeply and look right at him.

I´ll do what it fucking takes to get it right Jans. I´m in face first.

He laughs and slaps my shoulder gratefully. I have to assume he means it. He´s the one who´ll raise the money in Toronto and Vancouver and elsewhere. He has no need or reason to scam me. And the rest of them ... over there pretending to talk to each other ... it´s in their interest to keep Jans happy so a deal gets done. We turn back along the sidewalk and head towards the rest of them.

You´ve had a tough time haven´t you? Some deals that weren´t quite ...

Jans is looking carefully at me as he speaks. He wants to know that I´m not a fugitive or something like that. I shrug and nod my head. He nods satisfied. He doesn´t need to know any more. We reach them and Jans shakes hands again and Cagnazzo looks pleased but I´ll have to fill him in on all the details. Jans herds Caganzzo and Dra Mazz off to one side for a brief moment and chats quickly with them. They look like cats who´ve eaten a cage full of canaries. I guess he made his stock offer to them as well. And perhaps cash up front. Diego´s bored look is a little fake if you ask me and Isa is holding my hand rather tightly as well. Jans returns and announces that he has got to get back to the hotel and catch a flight to Buenos Aires.

I´ll see you there.

Damn he´s talking to me. Once he´s some distance away near Plaza Colon and we´re heading the other way to where the vehicles are parked I turn to Cagnazzo.

Cuanto?
Un millon de acciones y setenta y cinco mil dolares. Vos??
Cien mil de acciones y cincuenta mil.
Bien pibe. Entonces habra que laburar un toque para sacar tu guita. Te vere en Cordoba parece.

But Isa needs to digest things. Back at the apartment she complains about having to move to Cruz del Eje so late in her pregnancy. I have to convince her.

Mañana salimos con Diego en su Ford.
Aja ... y que hago con esta barriguita? Y las citas con la ginecologa??
Cagnazzo nos pagara una clinica privada. Nos los debe.
Aseguraste eso??
Lo voy a concretar carajo! Te lo juro!!

The cordless rings and it´s Pipo. He mentions a clinic in Cruz del Eje to me. I pause and catch my breath. Ok. It´s not magic. Cagnazzo likely had him arrange that a few days ago and as soon as he drove off he phoned Pipo and told him it´s on. So Scarmiglione is paying for Isa´s pregnancy at a private clinic in Cruz del Eje. Likely with some of Pranav´s cash. I talk loudly ( too loudly, Isa flinches ) so she can hear it all and then as soon as I hang up I head to the computer and google the clinic. Yes, it´s there. Good. It takes all my strength just to get through the smallest details with her sometimes. Let´s hope we can all make it to Cruz del Eje. Will Oriana want to come as well? Or will Diego let her stay in their shared house? I stare at the screen a little dazed as I start to come down from the high of the deal. And it´s not signed yet. Isa´s hand on my shoulder startles me. I take her fingers and squeeze them and turn to face her. She´s softer now and seems to have decided it´s good to go on this trip.

Falta ver Cruz del Eje. Es cierto.

I breath out slowly, relieved. I gently take her onto my lap despite her protests about how heavy she is and hold her in my arms in the fading light in our living room. The setting sun is a fuzzy red orb behind a thin layer of gray clouds. It slips down into a patch of turquoise sky just before disappearing behind the tiled roofs and the sweeping pampa beyond. Somewhere way out there ( more to the right actually - not straight ahead ) is Cruz del Eje - Diego´s home town where a barren, rocky 100 hectare property shimmers seductively. Our own little El Dorado. I wonder what exactly in Dra Mazz´s study interested Jans enough to bite? Or is it just that the credit markets are flowing nicely again and the terrain is plausible enough to raise the cash on the TSX Venture Exchange? Isa strokes my head as we wait for the sun to disappear completely from the blue-green purple sky.

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Allard ... is that Dutch?
Hugenot actually, yes. My paternal grandmother Jans.

He grins fraternally but it might just be the drinks although he´s still very much in control. I haven´t bothered asking him when he moved to Toronto in order to avoid coded complaints about South Africa´s current condition. I have a sale to make and this suit feels strange. We bought it and dry cleaned it all in a couple of hours to get the new suit smell out. The shirt as well. The shoes are a livelier version of Birkenstock Kensington black leather oxfords and Isa hated them on site but I insisted. So she´s here with Me, Diego and Cagnazzo at the Hotel Dora chatting with some geologist ( I think ) from St. John´s who works out of Vancouver. Having watched several hundred Pesos go towards these shoes she had to be recompensed. And she looks amazing in a lovely black cocktail dress that just fits her swelling midriff. The men, and some of the women, are melting over her. Good. Cagnazzo and me have dispensed with cravats and I begged Diego to come ¨casual elegant¨. His hair is in a ponytail and we bought him a leather windbreaker so he sort of fits in with the wandering-geologist-too-busy-to-look-sharp look. Plus it´s his land.

Jans is talking about Mansfield Mineral´s property in Salta. I gently finger the skin under my eye where the bruise has been covered up by a touch of make up applied by Isa an hour or two ago. She had to do both eyes and quite enjoyed herself. Ori laughed lustily and Diego grinned a fair bit. Glad to have entertained them all. I nod and try to follow Jans; he doesn´t dwell too much on the jargon although he clearly knows a fair bit. Is he a biz grad or is he a mining engineer? Or a geologist? Or just another veteran stock promoter? I nod again and ask what he thinks of the north of the province of Cordoba.

Well Allard, that´s where your property is I believe, yes?
Yes! Near Cruz del Eje.

He grins at my enthusiasm - a slightly disconcerting grin that lets me know he´s seen it all before and not to bullshit him. He´ll take care of the bullshitting. But I have more than just enthusiasm for Jans. When the four of us entered the lobby, Cagnazzo was immediately greeted by a confident older woman - Dra Mazz, profesor of geology at Universidad del Sur in Bahia Blanca. How did he know her? As she had guided us to the bar, making some introductions along the way, she had turned to me and said,

Perdon por no mandarte el estudio preliminar. La tengo aca.

She handed me a large envelope. A preliminary study? When did she do this? And why the hell does Cagnazzo delight in keeping me off balance? Can´t he realize that we need to look like a team if we´re going to make a sale!!??

Cuando estuviste en Cruz del Eje Doctora??
No no Allard. Mi asistente, Baldemo Cuiti, hizo el viaje y junto los datos preliminares para despues analizarlos aca conmigo.
Ah bien. El es candidato doctoral?

She grins at my Spanish but nods her head. I had leaned forward anxiously and asked her quietly,

Y algunas ... digo las posibilidades son interesantes no?

She had paused and surveyed me carefully. Then a smile and.

Son interesantes si.

I´m grateful she had spared me the jargon. Cagnazzo and Diego had then joined us and we had quickly assigned roles there and then with me trying not to hiss angrily at Cagnazzo and Diego looking a little bored. My role was to talk up any junior mining executives who might be interested in leasing the property from us; Dra Mazz would be ( and was ) the local expert; Cagnazzo would be ( and was ) the political fixer and lawyer and Diego the bored landowner. And Isa the beautiful wife. People were friendly and casually curious as to what I was doing here in Mar del Plata and I kept it as simple as I could - bringing in Mazz and Cagnazzo to shake hands on occasion and pointing out Diego now and then as well and answering questions about my ¨beautiful wife¨ and trying not to look irritated as I did so. I sipped my scotch and soda carefully and tried not to feel like a fool. But I slowly realized that the exploration industry is built on faith and optimism and somehow we were all in this together. We had a property and it might even be worth a good look. I circled amongst the attendees and finally Jans seemed familiar with the north of the country ( as well as Patagonia ) and I decided he was the one to make the sale to.

So here I was with Jans. He listened while I sketched out the rough details, throwing me some precise questions that I answered as best as I could. Finally, he pointed at the envelope and said,

Allard, it might be helpful if you let me read that report. Who put it together? That profesor?
Yes, yes. Doctora Mazz. And her assistant Cuiti.
Good. Well, from what you´ve told me we might have something here.

He´s already opened the envelope and is quickly shuffling through the report. It´s mostly in Spanish but there´s a summary in English. He pauses at the photographs, especially the aerial ones.

Good ...
I can translate if you want Jans ...
Not necessary. I have contacts here Allard. It looks good ... yes. We can build on this, yes ... good.

The real drilling is done in Toronto and Vancouver and Montreal and Calgary etc. Where you take core samples of investor enthusiasm and shift through market liquidity and try to extract some cash. And maybe even find a workable mine. It´s all in his face as he reviews Dra Mazz´s report. Maybe I´m not such a fish out of water here. I just need to observe a little and mostly keep my mouth shut. Jans looks up quickly at me and winks.

Where are they ... ?

I turn and Cagnazzo and Mazz are already heading towards us, the profesora excusing herself from the company of some bankers I believe with a crisp laugh. Isa manages to free herself from the Geologist ( the tales he´s told her ... we´re probably invited to dinner in St John´s when we return to Canada ... I wonder how much she understood ) and joins us as well. Jans shakes hands again and kisses cheeks and tucks the report tucked under his arm. We agree to meet tomorrow and I propose we eat lunch at Muelle Club de Los Pescadors - The Fisherman´s Wharf. It´s a faded but cozy tourist attraction with a seafood menu and everyone agrees. I had glanced at Jans for approval but Cagnazzo had nodded briskly taking control of things right at the end and so me Isa and Diego had headed back home. Cagnazzo had stayed behind with Dra Mazz and I wondered if maybe they had some other properties for rent. No matter. We had possibly made a sale to Jans.

On the drive back Isa had sat in the middle and Diego had driven a little more carefully than normal. The face of a righteous man and the rest of it serpent. And those who only cared for money tortured on the burning sand. Canto XVII full of fraud and avarice. Rome´s hatred of unbridled capitalism. Do the ghosts of indulgences past - those fees for salvation of souls - inhabit the marrow of modern punitive tax systems? R H Tawney´s Religion and the Rise of Capitalism is a wonderful survey of the Reformation and it´s effects on the business world. Yet capitalism had existed long before Luther nailed his 95 theses to the cathedral door in Wittenberg - as Tawney points out very clearly. It´s the Puritan winter that followed the tempestous autumn of the Reformation that undid the late summer of universal, Catholic Christianity that really distinguishes North America from Argentina ( and most of South America ). The metaphor is Tawney´s as well of course. So you use the same symbols semantically - accounting , geology, finance. But the language is different here. And I had to turn from Milton the Puritan to Dante as my guide. And the Devil is far less mobile and somehow less dangerous in the Divine Comedy. Strange, hadn´t thought of that. I stare out at the dark sea as we turn onto Strobel and double back towards our building.

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I hid and recovered in the warm spell that arrived in Late August, blown in by a warm wind travelling eastward from the Andes. They call it La Zonda and it´s like the Chinook in Alberta, bringing dramatic increases in temperature for a short period. Whether La Zonda actually reaches all the way to Mar del Plata is very debatable but it was a warm wind and it blew in off the pampa, so perhaps La Zonda was at work somewhere in the west and northwest and was ultimately responsable for the heat wave. And then the rain came, La Tormenta de Santa Rosa; a lovely little legend that has some truth in it as well perhaps. One Isabel Flores de Oliva, a devout citizen of Lima, had in 1615 prayed that her city be spared the assaults of Dutch pirates who had just ransacked neighbouring Callao. On the 30 of August a fierce storm had arisen driving them away. Lima was saved, Santa Rosa beatified and her storm faithfully placed in the mystical pantheon of South American Catholicism. The cult took root in the River Plate, perhaps following those administrators of the crown who moved to Buenos Aires when the viceroyalty of the River Plate was established in 1776, precisely to combat smuggling by merchant/pirates from Holland and the rest of Western Europe. So the transplanting of Isabel Flores de Oliva´s redeeming storm was likely a very pragmatic process done by ambitious bureaucrats constructing a brand new viceroyalty. Meteorologically, La Tormenta de Santa Rosa is not quiet so awesome. According to studies done, a true storm occurring within a few days either side of August 30 only occurs some 15% of the time ( going back to the 1860´s in the Buenos Aires area ). However, a light rain after the Zonda is much more frequent. So if you need to lift your face to the sky and thank the pious lady of Lima for the moisture on your cheeks ( tears aside ) then perhaps there is just enough rain to keep your faith intact.

And I did lift my face to the sky in a light rain one day after the 30 of August. My face was mostly healed and the rain was a relief. I felt sheltered by the drops, cleansed even. Isa had changed the Euros bit by bit and with the rate at over 5 to the Peso we were able to leave the remaining dollars alone for a while. Diego had scavenged dry wood near the end of the heat wave and brought it to our apartment, commenting in a rustic singsong way about how the cold would soon return after ¨El viento de San Juan¨as he put it. It made Isa laugh, but she was careful to wait till he had left. He hates being reminded of his country roots. So the woodstove was lit again and I was returning to the apartment after this walk by the sea and puzzling about a phone call from Cagnazzo that Diego had mentioned. Cagnazzo had asked how I was doing. Does he know about the brawl at Kerry Keel? Did Isa tell Diego and Diego tell Cagnazzo? If he does know it´s a bad strike against me. No one wants a partner who brings unwanted attention. I wait for a pause in the traffic to cross over to our building. But wait. A squad car is approaching. The window rolls down and it´s Vanni. He points over towards Strobel and they turn that way. I follow across the lanes of traffic, my stomach churning anxiously.

Estas mejor pelotudo?

He´s grinning maliciously at me. They parked the squad car just past the car wash at the corner of Strobel and Camet but what´s really unsettling me is the official who also got out of the car. I recognize him ... Oh my god. He moonlights as a bouncer at Kerry Keel. Vanni tilts his bulldog head slightly to one side and his hazel eyes drill into me.

Y como pensas que zafaste esa noche pibe? Eh!??
No quería armar un lio ...

I have to be as direct and honest as I can. So that´s why I had to admit that it was a scam of mine that ended up in a violent fashion. Vanni pauses and nods satisfied. The bouncer/officer has a neutral look. Vanni is the one running things I have to assume. I want to ask him if there´s any more commisions for us from Pranav but I wait quietly. Vanni turns and nods at his official who gets into the driver´s seat and wheels the squad car around and drives ... into the carwash. On a rainy day. Vanni squeezes my elbow lightly and guides me into the bare bones cafe where you sip a coffee while they clean your car. No automated machines, rather some pumps and hoses and brushes and detergent and a handful of employees washing down your vehicle. The manager nods a little nervously and after serving us two cortados leaves us there alone and heads out into the work area to ostentatiously supervise things. Vanni sips his coffee and then speaks quietly,

Archivaron el expediente. Ya no hay causa. Y los Hungaros fueron, digamos, endemnizados.

So Miklos and Janos have withdrawn their charges and/or had the assault charges againt them dropped. Isa has been telling me that a brawl in a bar is hardly worth a second thought to the police or the courts. But perhaps the fact that it involved two Hungarian businessmen made things a little more complicated. I lean back relieved and realize I have to be grateful. Very grateful. If I want any more money from Pranav by way of Vanni. If you´ve been following my rough calculus we´re back at Canto XVIII where flatterers wallow in excrement. Although the expression here is ChupaMedias - SockSucker. I grin a shit-eating grin and say,

Che, vos no te perdes una. Sabés lo que hago yo antes que yo me doy cuenta!
Pibe, basta de joder. Que tenes planeado?

Blunt and efficient as always, Vanni just wants to know what my next move is. How did he get wind of it? Diego? Cagnazzo? I had thought they were a little more discreet. A week or so ago, I finally got Diego to open up a little about his inheritance. Given the death of his siblings in that pile up on Ruta 9, he inherited three properties: an agricultural supply business in Cruz del Eje which Cagnazzo promptly sold for him and two other parcels of land. One of the remaining properties is productive agricultural land but it´s the third property that interests me. It´s a rocky piece of land, 100 hectares some twenty kilometers outside town. Cagnazzo emailed some aerial and ground photographs to Diego who passed them on to me. My warm weather retreat has been spent frantically searching online to familiarize myself with basic geological terms and how they might apply to the junior mining industry. You see ... there´s a conference starting tomorrow in Mar del Plata. Somehow the mayor managed to get Siminera 2010 to hold a part of it´s events here rather than in Buenos Aires. All part of the push to put Mardel on the international conference circuit - poker tourneys, mining confabs, come on down! So yes, I do have something planned. And Cagnazzo of course is involved. And I suppose Vanni wants in. I sit up a little and sip some of my cortado and say,

Siminera. Tenemos un proyecto.
Ahi en Cordoba??
Y ... si. Cruz del Eje.
Mira vos ... Y decime ... como funciona eso??

Oh goodness ... he really wants to know how it works. He wants out of the petty scams and the grimy squeezes he has to put on people to supplement his pay. I nod to myself and glance over at the suds sliding down the side of the squad car. I feel like crying, out of exhaustion and relief. But I let the angst drain out of me and get down to business. How much do I tell him without angering Cagnazzo? How much does Vanni already know? Little, I suspect.

Vos armas un especie de arrrendamiento y la minera hace el laburo y si encuentran minerales, metales ... a veces tambien te dan un porcentaje addicional.

Vanni´s eyes glitter with curiosity and avarice,

Cuanto??
Y che, depende. Ellos se quedan con la mayor parte pero te tiran algo viste?
Aja. Y que hago yo??

It´s a threat but also a plea. I pause a long moment and then say carefully.

Mira. Yo tratatre con las mineras. Son Canadienses en gran parte. Y de ahi a ver que arreglo Cagnazzo y yo armamos ... Ok??

He taps his fingers briskly on the flimsy little table and then looks back at me. The car is now being wiped down with large rags out on the sidewalk on Strobel - a somewhat futile excercise given the rain.

Vos me tendras en cuenta, eh??
Obvio que si ... pero ...
Aca, tomá.

He hands me an envelope which I pocket quickly. It feels like cash. Good. The deal is done and we stand and I have to kiss his pockmarked cheek but what the fuck. I get some cash out of it and I´ll handle his bit in what I hope will be a successful venture. Outside it´s still spitting lightly and I turn right and head the short half block to our building. I´ll just have to make Isa and Diego - and Cagnazzo - understand that it would be dangerous to exclude Vanni. I lift my face again and let the rain cleanse the faded bruise under my eye.

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Despite or because of the fog, Kerry Keel was packed. Miklos and Janos insisted on bellying up to the bar upstairs which caused some consternation on the part of the staff seeing that the stools were already occupied. They boasted of past outings in Dublin earning irritated looks from the bartender as the waitress had to squeeze past us to get her drinks filled. I suppose they´re from Budapest but I don´t bother asking - although I am curious as to exactly why they´re here in Mardel. Janos, the slightly shorter and slightly more sober one seems to read my mind.

You wonder why the fuck we here no!?? he brays.

I nod uncomfortably and he orders another round of Guiness for all of us. I still haven´t finished my first pint and I make no effort at draining it despite the imminent arrival of a fresh one. No point in getting drunk. Miklos has appropriated a bar stool that a balding red head had left vacant - I guess he had to pee. He returns and I fear a confrontation but he just glares at Miklos and pays up his tab. He´s alone and seems to be a regular here from his easy banter with the bartender. I think I hear ¨ pelotudos ¨ in reference no doubt to us and I catch a sharp quick glance from the bartender as he hands the red head his change. Janos drains a good portion of his fresh pint and grins lewdly at me,

Rabbit meat. We are producer/exporters.
You don´t mean you export here??
Nooo!! Che!! We export to Germany and Italy and everywhere. We are to look at possibility ...

The bartender glances again quickly at us and grins sardonically at Janos´ use of ¨ che ¨. It´s a sneer really and I feel even more uncomfortable. Elegant wood paneling and the Plane trees on Alvarado visible through the enormous windows. But the atmosphere is clubby and snotty and we are definitely nearing persona non grata status. I answer Janos with what I hope is quiet calm enthusiasm,

Oh ... you´re buying up a competitor?

Janos winks at me. A little too lustily I think.

Argentina is competitor, yes. And meat processing plant in Colonel Vidal.
Colonel Vidal? There´s a rabbit meat processing plant in Colonel Vidal??
Of course ...

He drains the rest of his pint and signals for another. Milos stares broodingly at the bar counter. I´m nervous and on edge. So are the staff.

Is good product the Argentina ... ( his English is deteriorating quickly )
I see.

I sip at my fresh pint. When did the bartender take away my first one? Never mind. Colonel Vidal is maybe an hour or so north of here along highway 2. I imagine that once they transacted their business there, they decided to see Mar del Plata rather than make the longer drive back to Buenos Aires. A couple vacate their stools with angry looks towards us. It looks like Miklos and Janos ( and me ) are scaring away customers. A chestnut haired waitress suggests we take an empty table over in the corner. Janos leers at her but agrees and I tread carefully behind the two of them as we shuffle over with our pints. Miklos orders another round as soon as we´re seated. What am I doing? These two are a tough lot however drunk they may be. Hell, they´re crazy. What the hell can I do to seperate them from their Dollars or Euros? Or Pesos if need be? Janos puts a large hand on my thigh.

You know how rabbits fuck?? ( oh jesus ... )
Uh ... no.
Like rabbits!!!

He brays at his own joke. People glare as I shift his hand off my leg. I´m at a crossroads here. Do I get angry and disassociate myself from them and return home without having scored even a dollar? Or do I play along ... ? Milos burps loudly and now the bartender approaches along with the doorman. Part of me is absolutely mortified but part of me is relieved. I take the initiave and stand up and meet them a few paces from our table.

Caballeros disculpa. Ya nos vamos ok?

The doorman looks like he plays rugby and would love a scrap. Did I see two of them when we came in? Is another doorman downstairs or outside? The bartender puts a hand on my arm and squeezes hard. I feel a flash of anger.

Mejor que pagan y van.
Mira, ya nos vamos ok??

He keeps his hand tightly gripped on my arm. I´m really angry now and quite alert. Good. Let´s do this. I push at him and say loudly,

No me tocas boludo!!

The doorman slides past him and grabs my elbow and starts to drag me towards the door but as I had hoped, Janos is right behind and lunges at him. I feel blows swirling around me as Milos pushes past me to get at the bartender. I remember a fight breaking out right next to me at Paupers on Bloor Street in the 80´s. It was over before I had really realized what had happened. This took a little longer but time mutates in a brawl. I can´t say if a chair hit my head or if I had been fighting with the bartender before Miklos tangled with him for example. But by the time I reached the sidewalk my head was bleeding and I had a wallet in my hand. Thank goodness it was mostly older clients or they would have beat us to a pulp. Or maybe they were beating Janos and Miklos mercilessly. The sidewalk is quiet and empty and I quickly take out the bills from the wallet and then throw it in the gutter. I raise my hood and walk quickly down Alvarado and turn onto Olavarria heading towards Colon. Before reaching Colon however I take Alsina and then turn onto Almirante Brown, Irish founder of the Argentine navy. Cute. I hear sirens now. Not good. Not sure whose wallet I grabbed or how much cash I managed to steal. Entre Rios, Luro, 25 de Mayo and now Mitre. I reach Peralta Ramos and Plaza España - back to where I was earlier this evening. My head feels swollen above my left ear. I feel carefully under my hood. It´s a smallish bump and the blood seems to have dried. I keep walking and pass the Unzue Orphanage - a reduced work crew continues to slowly work their way along the large structure; sometimes during the day I even spot one ot two of them. Through the front door and up the steps and home. Isa calls out from the bedroom,

Amor, que paso??

I don´t answer and head past our bedroom and into the bathroom. One eye is swelling and there´s a patch of dark red on my scalp. My nose feels very sore but no teeth are missing. I turn on the tap and take off my coat, sweater and tshirt and throw them out into the hall. I run the water till it´s warm and try to wash up as best as I can. I straighten up and take a towel and dry my face off. I know that Isa is standing there watching me but I focus on the mirror and finish drying myself off. Finally I turn and look at her,

Se complico amor.
Lograste algo ... ?

We take my clothes into the bedroom and then check the bills I stuffed quickly into my wallet. 835 Euros. I look at Isa and say,

If I get away with it it was worth it.

RSClef48

In a dense fog we drift inside this taxi. Of strange new pain I now must make, if not my verse, then this diary, this blog. It´s a problematic canto, self-conscious and audacious, even by Dante´s measure. Canto XX of The Inferno deals with false prophets, seers, pronosticators. With Jesuit like severity Dante has Virgil change his own words and show seers in the worst possible light as they presumably dared to enter God´s terrain of knowing what is to come. But with burlesque delight he has their tears run down their backs and into their butts seeing their heads are twisted round. The strange pain in our case, however, refers to Isa´s frustrations. Third in her first semi pro game at the Casino. Less than two thousand Pesos and Piceno won. That´s driving her crazy even if she played fiercely with some poor hands. I´m so proud of her but right now I think it´s best just to hold her hand and listen to the driver - a Bon Jovi fanatic with big hair - tell amusing stories about his life as a taxi driver. Did he say his name was Pinamonte or am I conveniently imagining that? We´re driving past Plaza España and the fog slides past the lamposts, the light struggling to move through the diffuse murkiness. It´s another ridiculously cinematic moment and you expect a fog horn to sound at any minute. But ship´s horns are a strange metallic whine nowadays. We turn at Strobel and Pina or Pino brings the taxi to a halt. I pay him with a ten Peso note, letting him keep the change. We walk slowly upstairs and Isa collapses on top of the bed.

Quiero galletas.

So I get some cookies and we watch TV and eat cookies and she insists on máte despite the hour. Cronica TV with their sensationalist trash journalism is on and I secretly hope that Kabe shows up somehow in a news report, even if it has to be Cronica. Where is he? I know he scared me once, but now he haunts me. The journey back to Canada. The descent into Cagnazzo´s claws. The desperate search for some small con to earn our next couple of thousand bucks. Kabe changed our lives. And the thought grows that maybe he´s still collecting a percentage. Or perhaps he sold us to Cagnazzo ... ? Could that be? How much did he get I wonder ... in Pesos no doubt. So he´s perhaps still in Argentina. But then again he may have changed those Pesos and bought a plane ticket back to Israel. He would have known it was time to move on.

Nene por dios! En que carajo estas??

Isa is staring at me. I breath out long and slow and shake my head slowly.

Y ... en Kabe.
Dejalo ya. Mas bien pensa en como juntamos mas guita.

Her voice is calm and crisp. She seems to be adapting to our life of miserable swindles. But I never know how much it is actually eating her up. I lay my hand on her belly but she turns fussily to one side and stares at the television. I gently stroke the back of her head.

A ver si Cagnazzo nos llama amor.
Que se caga ese estafador!
Isa ... !

But what´s the point of arguing? She´s sick of my subservience to Cagnazzo and she´s worn out from the poker - altough I suspect she´s actually reasonably pleased at some level with her performance tonight. So I stay quiet and shift tensely in bed. Then I stand up and open up the closet and grab my hooded coat. I also take my deerskin gloves out of the second drawer of our dresser. I have no choice. I have to go out now in this god awful night and find something. Isa observes me quietly and finally when I have my wallet and keys she says,

No salis con demasiado guita amor. Por si acaso.

The fog seems even thicker now and I have the hood up as I walk down the sidewalk that runs along the retaining wall by the shore. Below I can hear the waves but can barely see the sand and only occasionally catch glimpses of waves breaking. Perhaps you might feel a little aprehensive should you be walking towards me - seeing you would be a tourist and likely alone. But I barely notice you. I have to reach the Casino as soon as possible. It takes me just over twenty minutes; round the bluff and past the Fisherman´s wharf if you will with it´s flashing blue Quilmes sign. And there it is. There were a few tourists hanging around the poker game and wandering off to the slot machines. They seemed European but I couldn´t catch their accents. I wonder if they´re still there. I slow down as I approach the brass entrance doors and turn and look quickly through the glass. I think I see a couple of them coming down the steps. I stop and wait till they come through the doors. I have to approach a few steps until one of them recognizes me despite the hood.

Hey!! How´s the wife?? She played excellent!!

Drunk. And even better, friendly. I grin wearily and nod my head.

You out for walk?? It´s ok??

The other one is even more drunk. They´re both about my age. Divorced? Wives at home? They sound like they might be from the Czech Republic or Hungary ... I smile what I hope is bravely showing my heroic love for Isa.

Yes ... she´s resting. It was a little tough on her. All the stress and attention ...
Yessss!!! Poor girl!!! You want a drrrink???

I pause what I hope is just a brief moment as I assess them and then shrug and grin. The taller, and drunker, one slaps my back and says,

You show us some good bars ok!??
Ok ...