Needle in a Haystack Read Online Free PDF Page B

One night, arriving home from the San Rafael casino, Marraco looked through the window and saw one of the Pertinetti boys groping her on the living room couch. She, happy as can be; her mother, complicit; Marraco, furious.
    Ventura picked up three fifteen-year-old girls in Asunción, bought for the price of two. Of Guarani Indian and German stock, these dark-skinned girls, with their smooth, jet-black hair and green eyes, could easily pass for Thai. In some form or other, Tony was continuing a tradition established in the Twenties and Thirties by Zwi Migdal, the Jewish mafia, who smuggled in blond Poles who could pose as French maids in Buenos Aires.
    Lascano has a search warrant in his pocket, signed by Marraco and his paranoia. Even if such documents had fallen into disuse, it protected Perro should he end up in front of some government heavyweight or a member of the armed forces.
    The uniformed policemen grow impatient, lying in wait a few yards from the house where Eva hides. Lascano waves to them and some salute him, but he’s not really paying attention. He heads over to the deputy superintendent.
    Everyone in position? We’re all ready, Superintendent. Just give the order. Let’s wait for the judge to get here.

    The officer’s expression is a mixture of amazement and resignation at the words of his superior: he’s not used to a judge being present on a raid. For him, judges are the men who usually just show up in the newspapers taking the credit for everything once the dirty work’s been done. He feels no particular inclination to ask questions. He prefers the quiet life and so he limits himself to responding with courtesy and subordination:
    Whatever you say, sir.
    In the back seat of a Falcon, driven by a policeman Lascano has seen once or twice before, Marraco arrives with Arrechea, one of his clerks. As Lascano heads over to the car, the judge lowers the window.
    Good evening, Judge. How are you, Lascano? How’s everything going? We’re all ready. Ventura’s inside and there are signs of life in the house. Do you think they’ll put up a fight? These people are not especially violent, but you never know. In any case, we’re well prepared. Are you going to join in with the operation? I would love to see Ventura’s face when we cuff him. That’ll teach him what you get when you mess with minors. But I can’t. Mr Arrechea here will accompany you. As you wish. Anyway, tomorrow you’ll give me all the details. Of course, your honour.
    Marraco puts his window up and signals to the chauffeur to get going. He wants to be home fast, to monitor his daughter’s activities. The car pulls away and melts into the shadows, periodically reappearing in the glow of the traffic lights at every junction, shrinking each time until it disappears. Arrechea doesn’t like the way he is being treated like a child.
    Right sir, here’s how it’s going to work. We’ll go in and secure the place. When we’re sure the situation is under control, I’ll send someone out to get you and we can start proceedings. I
don’t want to put you at any risk. Does that seem OK to you? It seems fine. Then let’s get moving. Attack positions everyone. At the ready.
    With a gesture of the hand, Perro orders two men with a battering ram to smash down the door.
    Eva leaves her hiding place to peek down the stairwell and hears voices of men and women down below. There’s a sudden explosion, the crash of the door as it’s bashed in. Running and yelling.
    The party’s over. Lascano blocks the exit, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and enjoys watching his operation unfold, designed to perfection. In a matter of minutes, whores and clients are identified and Ventura is handcuffed and brought out to Perro, who can’t help but smile: dressed all in red, Ventura looks like a toy devil. Lascano covers his mouth, coughs and orders his men to let those they’ve arrested put their clothes back on. An officer whispers something in the