Conversation · Call Me Mañana

"Who are Dobreva and Abadanaiz?"

"I don't know. Guess not everyone remembers." A tight, half-smile crosses his face.

"What do you think it means?" (Conclude.)

"Been wondering about that myself." He scratches his chin. "Some communista inside-talk, could be. Not meant for the wider public. They love that kind of thing. You'd have to ask someone who knows this ideólogo personally..."

"Ahem..." The lieutenant clears his throat.

"Not to interfere in your personal errand, but it might have something to do with that passphrase Cindy mentioned earlier."

"I was totally about to say that."

"Of course you were, detective. Apologies for interrupting." The lieutenant smiles to himself.

No, you weren't. Otherwise you would have said it. In truth, it was quite beyond your associative powers.

"Just in time, the faithful partner arrives with the key that turns the lock. You two make a good pair..."

"I salute you, boias, and wish you good fortune on this grand ideological quest." He tips his hat ever so slightly.

"Oh, right. Good thinking, Kim."

The lieutenant nods.

"Wait, what was that about again?"

"She said that you would need some kind of passphrase to gain access to this so-called mega secret meeting." He snaps the elastic band around his notebook.

"That's really dumb. You should feel embarrassed even suggesting that."

"You're right. How foolish of me. Won't happen again, detective."

"Sound like you two may have been riding together too long. The strain of the open range, and so on..."

"I have to say, though: It sounds like you've found yourself a proper hunt."

Of course, such "inside-talk" might also serve as a handy passphrase...

"That's alright. I think you may have just given me the last piece of the puzzle."

"Is that so?" He raises an eyebrow. "Well, in that case, I salute you, boia, and wish you good fortune on this grand ideological quest."

"I have to say, though: It sounds like you've found yourself a proper hunt."

"How did you meet him?"

"It was late one night as I was leaving the harbour. He was waiting on the corner in a classic Saramirizian jacket, a lot like the one you've got there..."

"He asked me for a light. We shared cigarettes. Then he asked if I ever thought about 'getting into some of the extra-physical branches of communism'."

See? All this political chit-chat is just an excuse to rip tar with strangers. Let's say we just skip right to the good part, then?

"What did you tell him?"

"The same thing I always tell people who try to press some claim on me: I said, 'Every boiadeiro rides alone'."

(Nod.) "An extremely cool way to establish contact. Wish I'd thought of that."

He shrugs. "It was alright. A little like something out of a Vespertine spy novel, but I must respect the effort."

"Hang on. What does that mean, the extra-physical branches of communism?"

"No idea. I took it to mean he was asking me to join some sort of underground cell..."

"A very old-school organising technique, the sort of thing communistas used to do before the Revolution."

"It was late one night as I was leaving the harbour. He was waiting on the corner in a bright white jacket, classic Saramirizian style..."

"Did he say his name was 'Steban,' by chance?"

"Didn't say anything about his name. Wasn't the sort of encounter where names matter."

"I thought you Union guys were all communists?"

"Some are, some aren't." He shrugs. "It's a big institution, room for all kinds: communistas, Semenese supremacists, even an anti-institutional boiadeiro..."

There is warmth in his voice when he talks about the Union. Whatever his personal politics, this is his home.

Alright, so if he isn't personally a communist, he's definitely hanging out with them.

"Are you sure? You smell just like a communist."

"Didn't realize you could smell communism." He frowns. "But then, I've never studied the subject..."

You can smell all sorts of things... fear, disgust, desire. Not communism, though.

Maybe it's not taught in any of your so-called universities, but there's definitely something going on here...

"I'm not 'hunting' communists, I'm trying to get organised by them."

"Oh, I see..." He gives you an exaggerated wink.

"I'm on a sort of quest to develop my political potential and I need their help."

"A fellow plains-roamer, in search of greater understanding. A classic story..." He nods approvingly.

"Communistas, huh? Can't say that's where I thought you were heading with this. Not that I'm criticizing. It's good for a man to take his time and think about the whole socio-political world picture."

"It's certainly been an interesting development to witness first-hand."

"I'm looking for some people who know how to really grind a sausage, if you know what I mean."

"Hrmmm. Have you tried a butcher shop?" He looks at you with perfect equanimity.

"I believe there's a cell of radical communists operating in Martinaise. Can you help me find them?"

"Now that is an important subject, but also a sensitive one. Still, good of you to just come straight out with it. No beating about the bush..." He smooths the twin bars of his moustache.

"Yes, he certainly has a way of just coming out and saying things that normal people wouldn't."

"It involves our mutual friend, Kras." (Put your hands next to your head and curl your fingers like deer antlers.)

"Don't think I've ever met a Kras, personally. Then again, I've never been to Graad." He narrows one eye at you.

"I'm looking for a secret cabal of mole people."

"Hrmm... you might have to look elsewhere for help with that." He scratches his chin.