Cemetery of Swallows by Mallock;, Steven Rendall Read Free Book Online

young gringo from France who killed him. They must not have known he was on the island.”
    Mallock remained silent. Pensive. The slightest bit of information could be of the greatest importance. It might help him find a motive for this crazy act and above all it might help him gather extenuating circumstances for the trial. Since there was no doubt about premeditation, they would be crucial.
    Amédée was being bounced around in every direction, and his ankle was beginning to hurt from slamming his foot on an imaginary brake pedal. Jiménez Cappuccino was passing on the right, using the crumbling, narrow emergency vehicle lane, weaving in and out and blowing the horn every three seconds, never losing the smile that he seemed to have stuck on his face that same morning, like his mustache, with neoprene glue.
    â€œHow did Darbier end up in the Dominican Republic?” Mallock asked again, in the most relaxed tone he could still manage.
    â€œHis story is the same as the island’s. He arrived in 1946 and spent the first three years working for the dictator, Rafael Leonidas Trujillo.”
    The way Ramón pronounced this name made it seem that he was spitting three times on the ground.
    â€œTrujillo, the head of the national guard, had overthrown Horacio Vásquez, the first president to win a free election, in 1924. For thirty years, that fascist dominated the island, and believe you me, it was not a nice little banana republic. He ruled by terror, torture, and political assassination. My father was one of the twenty million Haitians massacred by the national guard on Dominican territory. My mother was Canadian, from the Quebec area. That explains my ability to speak your language and the color of my skin. ‘A bit of milk in very black coffee,’ my mama used to say.”
    The word “mama” was touching coming from such a hulk of a fellow.
El capitán
Ramón Double-cream Cabral had loved his mother, and he probably still mourned her, Mallock thought. He was also pleased to have chosen such an appropriate nickname for him. Beneath his walrus-like appearance, he was in fact a cream of a man.
    â€œMay 30, 1961, is a holiday for the whole island,” Ramón continued. “Abandoned by the Americans after he tried to have the Venezuelan president, Betancourt, assassinated, Trujillo himself was assassinated. It happened in Moca. One of my friends has kept as a memento the chromed swan the bastard had had installed on the hood of his car. So far as I’m concerned, he should’ve thrown it in the sea. That shit Tobias was not only an ally of the dictator, but also a friend of Balaguer, his vice-president. The surviving family and that whole little world divvied up Trujillo’s fortune after he was assassinated. At the time, people spoke of a billion dollars, without counting agricultural land and industries. When you get that rich on an island like ours, you also become untouchable.”
    Mallock found that way of putting things very significant. It was true, and it was terrifying. The last dictatorships, which could be classed as part of the world heritage of inhumanity by Unesco, namely North Korea and Cuba, were overhangs from an earlier period. On the whole continent of Africa and in many countries, the leaders had blood on their hands and didn’t have to answer for it to anyone.
    What Ramón went on to say confirmed this. “Darbier had five pretty difficult years during the presidency of Juan Bosch, Balaguer’s perennial opponent, and then during Godoy’s presidency. As incredible as it seems, Balaguer became president again in 1966. Not only had he manipulated the elections, but he was able to take advantage of the Americans’ complicity. They didn’t want another Cuba so close to their shores.”
    El capitán
Ramón Double-cream Cabral gave a loud beer-belch before continuing: “Though Balaguer’s dictatorship was not as violent