A Crack in the Wall by Claudia Piñeiro Read Free Book Online Page A

ended up on top of the notebook, sending the Caran d’Ache pencil rolling from its diagonal while he, powerless in the face of Jara’s rampancy, could do no more than follow its course almost to the edge of the desk, less than an inch away from falling to the floor. And although witnessing the displacement of his Caran d’Ache pencil made him feel uncomfortable, Pablo didn’t dare move Jara’s file and put his pencil back in position, and anyway such an action would be futile: the man still hadn’t finished, space had to be found for a photo album, another file stuffed with badly folded newspaper and magazine cuttings, photocopies of municipal edicts and a couple of envelopes ominously entitled “various documents”. In spite of the anxiety it caused him, Pablo left everything as Jara set it out: the only thing he removed from under the papers was the gas bill from home, which was due that day and which he mustn’t forget to pay.
    â€œWhere shall we start, arquitecto ?” Jara asked.
    While waiting for an answer, Jara fixed Pablo with a smile that made him uncomfortable because it seemed so out of place. It reminded him of a door-to-door tie salesman who came to the office once in a while with a suitcase full of different styles, colours and materials. Borla usually bought several and Pablo only one, which he paid for in three instalments. The man sitting opposite wasn’t a salesman though, but someone bent on halting the construction of a building on Calle Giribone in the belief that his livingroom wall was about to fall down.
    â€œWhere would you like to start?” Jara asked again, gesturing at the papers.
    And if it had been up to Pablo he wouldn’t have started anywhere; if it had been up to him he would have been putting the final touches to a project, planning a new building, drawing one of the many versions of his north-facing, eleven-storey tower, or dreaming about Marta. But he was there, trapped, at least until he could dispatch the chore of dealing with this man; he might as well get it done as quickly as possible, so without making any effort of thought he picked the most obvious answer to the question “Where shall we start?” and replied:
    â€œLet’s start at the beginning.”
    Jara moved his index finger quickly up and down in the air, as if to say, “I get the joke,” and began riffling through his own disordered papers, then pulled out a photo album which he laid out on top of everything, open on the first page, and said:
    â€œHere you have all the evidence you need, arquitecto . I doubt you’ll need much more if you are a specialist in excavations and demolition, as your colleague Borla claims. Colleague or boss?” he asked, as he swivelled the album round and nudged it forwards so that the photograph was facing Pablo.
    Pablo didn’t answer the question, nor did he immediately take up the album. He was distracted by the reference to Borla and wondered if his boss had in fact described him in those words, as a “specialist in excavations and demolition”. If so, he wondered whether the phrase had been without any particular significance, used simply to satisfy a man who demanded attention, or whether it concealed an ironic reference that lay beyond Pablo’s understanding. Can someone be an expert in excavations and demolitions?Jara nudged the open album further forwards, landing it in Pablo’s line of sight, so that he could now see a series of three photographs showing the same wall traversed by a crack. The wall didn’t change in any of the photographs, but the crack did; it was advancing at a rate Pablo estimated at about two inches between one photo and the next. Now he gave the album his full attention, studied the photos and made as if to turn the page:
    â€œMay I?”
    â€œPlease, feel free, arquitecto, ” Jara answered.
    Pablo turned the page to find more pictures of the same wall,