Conversation · Call Me Mañana

"A Mesquese epic then, all across Martinaise." He glances south, where the canal runs: "I hope it will be a real bonanza for you."

"Especially getting those boots off him. You'd have an easier time wrestling the spurs off a boiadeiro than that."

"All of it?" The lieutenant raises his brow. "There are junior officers out there, eager to prove themselves. I would leave some for them -- and I would leave the boots to Processing -- but okay. Let's find all of it."

"Yes, I'm already on it."

"Yes." He nods. "You said as much."

"I'm going to find one piece of it. One is enough."

"Nice and balanced," the lieutenant nods. "Some junior officers can take care of the rest."

"Smart choice," the moustached man agrees. "It's only that one spot you need armoured too -- the one the bullet hits."

"Good luck if you go for those boots, though. You'd have an easier time wrestling the spurs off a boiadeiro than getting them off him."

"Actually, I may have better things to do too."

"I agree, officer. Let's focus on the hanging and later some junior officers can take care of the rest."

"Nice." The moustached man nods in approval. "From what I learned it was a very heavy, boring set of armour."

"I've already got some armour. I'm pretty happy without struggling to find more."

"So you have." He smooths a stray moustache hair with his thumb and smiles. "No wonder you're a detective!"

"He can be very enterprising..." The lieutenant looks at his feet, hiding his face.

You have no business with those boots. But here we are.

"How then?"

"So Cuno used us to, what? Scare you?"

"It's a minor nuisance. It's all good." He contemplates taking a swig from his flask.

He thinks -- not yet. Better to get this business out of the way. Sweeter then.

"Did you?"

"What happened?"

"What will you be doing now?"

"I'll be okay here, doing lookout." He surveys the red flags, draped from the harbour gates. "Quite the sight, aren't they? Getting to like that red, I am..."

"Don't worry about me. I live to alleviate the worries of our brothers. See if any other insane killers turn up. Then I'll run. And live."

"I'm sure you'll do good."

"You know it, friend." He smooths his moustache with his hand.

"Try not to get shot, eh?"

"I'm sure I'll be luckier than you, friend." His grin is as wide as a desert.

(Attempt to establish contact.) "Listen, brother, there's something important I need to talk to you about..."

"What's that, boia?" He tilts his head slightly.

Now's your chance! Remember, communists are notoriously skittish, so it's best to insinuate your way in...

Hold on: This isn't a man who goes in for subterfuge. He prefers someone who'll look him in the eye and say exactly what's on his mind.

Okay, maybe it's time to abandon the subtle approach.

It was a foolish approach to begin with.

"I'm investigating a peculiar smell, one with revolutionary implications."

"Could be coming from one of the jammed lorries? Cargo's been sitting out for a while." He sniffs the air and looks toward the roundabout.

"What I'm trying to say is: I'm looking for communists. You know any?"

"Ah, now I see. Can't say I'm surprised. You seem to take your communism seriously. Not a bad thing, mind you. It's good for a man to take time to think about the whole socio-political world picture."

"Oh, he certainly likes to take his time with things, especially when politics are at issue."

"So you've given up copping and now you're hunting communistas. Care to say why?"

"Honestly, I had a weird dream and now I need to get to the bottom of it."

"Chasing a dream, huh? I have to respect that, boia..." He gives you a small salute.

"I wish I could help. Unfortunately, I don't know many communistas."

"I know you said you're not really a communist, but aren't you actually a communist?"

"Maybe, maybe not." He shrugs. "Either way, I'm not institutional. A man's got to blaze his own trail, in my book..."

Blazing his own trail, being his own man... not exactly your typical communist spiel.

Okay, so maybe he's not exactly a communist, but there's definitely some communistic residue about him.

He snaps his fingers. "Ah, but you know, I did meet a genuine ideólogo a few months ago. Perhaps he is your guy?"

"What's an ideólogo?"

"You know, a guy with a theory. Someone who likes to pit his theory against other theories in deadly theory-combat."

"Okay, how do I find this guy?" (Proceed.)

"I couldn't tell you. Once I declined his offer, we finished our cigarettes and he disappeared back into the night. Just before he melted into the shadows he turned to me and said..."

"Remember Dobreva and Abadanaiz..."

Wow, this one's a deep cut. Julia Dobreva and Jean Abadanaiz, popularly known as the 'Revolutionary Lovers', served as Dual Commissars of Revolution on the Insulindian front during the Antecentennial Revolution. Their forbidden love, as well as their disappearance during the final collapse of the Revacholian commune only contributed to their mystique...

Their remains were discovered on a beach in Ozonne in '35. Subsequent forensic analysis suggested suicide by poison.

"... and then he was gone."

"'The Revolutionary Lovers.'"

"So they were lovers, eh? Makes sense, he seemed like a romantic, in his way."

"He's not the only one, it seems." The lieutenant doesn't even look up from his notebook.