The Discreet Hero Read Online Free PDF

That pair of contemptible sons I have didn’t know that, Rigoberto. I can tell you. Only you. You’ll never tell anyone about it, not even Lucrecia. Swear you won’t, please.”
    “Dr. Gamio has been crystal clear,” Miki said enthusiastically. “He kicks the bucket tonight, brother. A massive heart attack. A devastating heart attack, he said. And slim chances of recovery.”
    “Not so loud,” Escobita reproached him. He spoke very softly in the half-light that deformed silhouettes, in the strange room that smelled of formaldehyde. “From your lips, compadre. Couldn’t you find out anything about the will in Dr. Arnillas’s office? Because if he wants to fuck us, we’re fucked. That old bastard knows all the tricks.”
    “Arnillas keeps his mouth shut because he’s been paid off,” said Miki, lowering his voice. “I went to see him this afternoon and tried to get something out of him but there was no way. I asked around anyway. Even if he wanted to fuck us, he couldn’t. The money he gave us when he got us out of the company doesn’t count, there are no documents and no solid proof. The law’s absolutely clear. We’re compulsory heirs. That’s what it’s called: compulsory. He can’t do anything, brother.”
    “Don’t be so sure, compadre. He knows all the tricks. As long as he can fuck us he’s capable of anything.”
    “Let’s hope he doesn’t last the day,” said Miki. “Because, if nothing else, the old geezer will give us another sleepless night.”
    “‘Old bastard’ says one, ‘I hope he croaks right now’ says the other, less than a meter away from me, happy to know I was dying,” Ismael recalled, speaking slowly, his gaze lost in the void. “Do you know something, Rigoberto? They saved me from dying. Yes, those two, I swear it. Because listening to them say those outrageous things gave me an incredible will to live. To deny them the satisfaction, to not die. And I swear my body responded. I decided right there, right in the hospital: If I recover, I’m marrying Armida. I’ll fuck them before they can fuck me. They wanted war? They’d have one. And they’ll have one, old man. I can see their faces now.”
    Bitterness, disappointment, anger filled not only his words and voice but also the grimace that twisted his mouth, the hands that crushed his napkin.
    “It could have been a hallucination, a nightmare,” Rigoberto murmured, not believing what he was saying. “With all the drugs in your body, you could have dreamed the whole thing, Ismael. You were delirious, I saw you.”
    “I knew very well my sons never loved me,” his boss continued, ignoring him. “But not that they hated me so much that they’d wish me dead so they could get their inheritance once and for all. And of course squander in the blink of an eye what my father and I broke our backs to build up over so many years. Well, they won’t be able to. Those hyenas will be disappointed.”
    Hyenas described Ismael’s sons pretty well, thought Rigoberto. A couple of scoundrels, one worse than the other. Lazy, too fond of carousing, abusive, a pair of parasites who dishonored the name of their father and grandfather. How had they turned out this way? It certainly wasn’t for lack of affection and care from their parents. Just the opposite. Ismael and Clotilde always bent over backward for them, doing the impossible to give them the best upbringing. They dreamed of turning them into two fine gentlemen. How the devil did they turn out so bad? It wasn’t all that strange that they’d had their sinister conversation at the foot of their dying father’s bed. And they were stupid on top of everything else, not even thinking he could hear them. They were capable of that and worse, of course. Rigoberto knew this very well; over the years he’d often been the shoulder his boss had cried on, Ismael’s confidant about his sons’ outrageous behavior. How Ismael and Clotilde had suffered because of the scandals the boys