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Chapter 37
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231 C Chapter 37 he afternoon was sweltering hot. Roasting draughts blew from the west. César Sergio Miguel sat by the poolside at his rented Sunnyside house. He was in a swimming trunk, his body a billboard of tattoos. His chest stood out like deformed breasts. If he lost the knack for assassinating, he knew he could easily find work as a bouncer in hotels and nightclubs. A large lamb leg, sausages and slices of beef and pork ribs lay on a charcoal roaster near the pool. Bottles of mustard, mint and cranberry jelly, and shakers of rough sea salt, black pepper and garlic were arranged around a veiled bowl of roasted potatoes on a serving table nearby. An Indian and a Brazilian female, both about twenty years old, frolicked in the pool. The women were the closest he found on the market that resembled Spanish beauties. In flowery bikinis and laying on ski-like floaters, they swarm and splashed water at each other and paddled using their hands. He hardly looked at them; his eyes were on the money in seventy-eight stacks before him. Each stack had two thousand dollars. The money and his elbows were on a trellis garden table as were three cocktails. One hundred and fifty-six thousand US dollars in one night! Business in South Africa was brisk and profitable. The payment for his latest job was yet to come into his hands. The money before him came from Father Hendrik van Vuuren’s office the previous night. Hon. Moagi Makgunda was a generous man, especially after a smart job like the one at the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart. Often, the premier trebled the payments if a job satisfied him. Satisfaction meant the police finding no evidence at the crime scene that pointed at the murderer or at him, the reason he delayed in paying. Between the murder and the time he paid, he would be sniffing. T 232 But what use was all this money when César felt like an exile? A Spaniard living far from home, even if he had everything including a massage parlour and supermodels in his house, was never contented. Of late he had made enough money to indulge. Young women were falling at his feet in Pretoria’s bars and restaurants. His tongue was sore from vodka and spirits. His backbone ached from the erotic frenzy of the nights. In his heart, Madrid and her nightclubs beckoned. He was nostalgic for an appearance in Bar Pasarela and looking up the skirts the of table dancers in the Oz, Europe’s largest gentlemen’s club. He missed Madrid’s brunettes and blondes, and their vivacious swagger. In the outskirts of Madrid, he would establish a bullfighting arena and run it professionally. He was tired of charming prostitutes and snakes. He was tired of killing. The sight of blood and dead bodies now soured his eyes. There was a time to pick the hatchet and a time to bury it. His last victim, the priest, soiled his pyjama pants. It was time César returned as a boss to the life of his dreams. His spirit throbbed for the day fellow Spaniards would doff their hats at his advent, and reputable picadors and matadors would beg him on their knees to enlist them. If the urge to kill embalmed him in his home country, he would expend it by killing bulls in the arena. But his savings were still meagre compared to the life he wanted to lead in Spain. It wouldn’t do his self-esteem any good to return home and live on a shoestring budget after spending years abroad. In a city of braggadocios, he would be an object of pity and ridicule among his peers. Many Spaniards who sojourned to the UK, America or Australia returned rich. He wouldn’t be an exception in that perspective. The Indian woman climbed out of the pool, dried herself with a towel and sauntered to him, decadently adjusting the bikini with her fingers. Her figure was ethereal and seemed chiselled. But it held no mystery for him anymore. “You’re a pretty girl. I wonder why you’re a prostitute. It’s painful.” “I’m a call-girl,” she corrected him lamely, a dash of girlish charm on her face. [3.236.214.123] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 11:09 GMT) 233 “It’s the same thing, Indianola.” It wasn’t her name, but one...