Sylvia pulled onto the double driveway and Carlos looked at the car next to him. A dull gray or brown, the color indeterminate in the evening gloom. The interior was sparse, devoid of personal items. It looked like a hire car, or a pool car.
“Has our visitor come far?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
A pool vehicle.
The presumed driver of the car stood below their front doorsteps, silhouetted by the security light. Male, and no more than five feet ten. The outline was of someone trim, but not slim. As Carlos’ eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the man wore a dark gray three-piece suit. Average and indistinct like the car he drove.
“Good evening again Mrs Reyes, hello Mr Reyes.”
He extended a hand, Carlos reached forward to shake it. The grip was firm, the hand robust but the skin smooth and dry. A man who worked in an office, now.
“Mr Reyes,” he said. “I am Arthur Muccio, from the State Department. Though Mrs Reyes probably told you that already.”
Carlos and Arthur looked at Sylvia, “No, my wife has told me nothing. Maybe we should go inside, and you can start from the beginning. It would certainly be helpful for me.”
They went inside. Sylvia went to the kitchen to make coffee; Carlos took their guest to the sitting room and offered him to a seat. Forcing himself to make polite small talk until Sylvia came through with their coffee.
Muccio spoke, “I received a call from someone I used to work with. A refugee, like your parents and grandparents. She had become aware of Mrs. Reyes asking about your grandmother, Mrs. Esperanza Soto, née, Vergara.” He sipped at his coffee, looking at Carlos as if expecting questions. None came, so he continued.
“I knew Mrs. Soto, at that point Miss Vergara, because as a young official I was responsible for collecting her reports. Her insights into the thinking of the Chilean military was remarkable for someone outside of the structure.”
“Sorry, but are you telling me my Abuela was a spy for the United States? This is ludicrous.”
“Spy is such a pejorative term Mr Reyes. Mrs. Soto provided information that was vital in helping us understand what was happening.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Arthur looked at Carlos and nodded his head gently. “I can understand that.” He looked at Sylvia. “Mrs. Reyes, do you have the photograph album please?”
While Sylvia retrieved the album Muccio took a folder from his briefcase. Carlos sat back in the armchair, his eyes focused a thousand yards away.
Sylvia returned with the album and handed it to Arthur, who thanked her. He turned through the pages until he came to the ones with the military officers. He peered at them, and then at the front of the folder he held. He turned the album round, placing it on the coffee table, carefully moving the cups so that it sat in the middle.
Carlos and Sylvia slid to the edge of their seats as Arthur pointed to a photograph. “This, obviously, is Miss Vergara. Next to her is Javier Reveco, there is Pinochet, Garcia, and, I think Jara, and Araya. That one is Torres.”
“How do you know all of these?” Asked Carlos.
“Because Duardo Torres was American and as his controller it was my job to know.”
“He was a spy?”
Arthur smiled, “That word again. Yes, then, a spy. As far as most of these other men knew, he died in a climbing accident in the Andes. When it was time to come home he couldn’t just disappear.”
“So this man recruited my Abuela?”
“Yes.” Arthur pointed at the photograph. “After Javier, her fiancé, was murdered.”
Carlos stood and walked to the window, he stared down the length of Potomac Heights. The taillights of a car flashed brightly as it braked, before turning onto East Magnolia.
“Mr Muccio,” he spoke without turning. “If my grandmother was a spy for the U.S. And the U.S. was happy for Pinochet’s coup to happen, why… I mean what…” He rubbed his forehead. “What happened?” He turned round again. “What happened to my family?”
“Mr. Reyes, your grandmother saved your family. By the time the coup happened she hadn’t provided us with reports for many years. But she knew what Pinochet would do with vocal socialists, like her daughter, son-in-law, and his parents. She contacted the embassy, and we got them all out.”
story by stuartcturnbull, picture by FranDuque via Pixabay
