Adam in Eden

Chapter 31

While trying to devise a plan to defeat Góngora, a simple visit gives me the answer.

The diminutive janissary is coming to see me on some evil errand. I consult with one of my business advisors whom I have asked to attend our meeting, which ought to let Góngora know that there are no secrets between us. If he wants to propose something to me, he can say it in front of a witness. I’ve had enough of his petty palace intrigues: that we’ll both govern, who’s going to be number one and who’s going to be number two, that either number one is going to be the figurehead for number two or we are going to treat each other as equals, only I, a civilian, am much more convincing as Chief of State than a soldier, militarism being over, the president has to be a civilian, and so on and so on and on. Let’s see if Góngora dares to propose any of his crooked plots in the presence of a third party.

On entering the meeting room, the Lilliputian conceals his displeasure at the presence of another person.

“Don Diego Osorio,” I introduce my associate, as he removes his sunglasses. “Don Adam Góngora.”

Góngora makes a good-afternoon gesture to wave good-bye to my associate, who, following my instructions, takes his seat again, to Góngora’s now noticeable chagrin. In the conspicuous silence, an angel passes over the table. My associate offers Góngora a cigarette. Góngora declines. My associate puts the cigarette in his mouth and, extending his arm as though to see if it works, he lights his cigarette lighter near Góngora’s face.

The flame barely touches Góngora’s cheek, but he looses a hair-raising scream of agony, terror, exorcism, fear, fear, fear.

The little man sits up and raises his arms involuntarily as protection from the lighter’s harmless little flame.

His face is the classical image of terror.

I look at him. We look at each other.

Góngora’s eyes reveal his fury at having been caught in a moment of weakness. My associate closes the lighter. He understands my look. He understands my gestures. Again he lights the lighter. Plays with it. At my silent signal, he moves the flame near Góngora’s face. Góngora stares at me with deep hatred. He raises a hand in defense. He dares not extinguish the source of his terror. He hides his hand. He covers his eyes with the other hand. Any composure that he’d reserved is now lost. He turns his back on us. He flees my office.

“Thank you, Diego.”

My business associate puts on his dark shades again, which he’d had the courtesy to take off to give Góngora the impression that everything here was under control.

But why are all my employees still wearing dark sunglasses?