The Collection by Mario Benedetti Take it easy, take it easy,” said Slim. Alberto couldn’t take his eyes off the weapon pointed at him. He also couldn’t talk. He was really frightened. The other three (Blondie, Freckles, and Blackie), who had entered when he opened the door, quickly fanned out through the apartment. “If you remain very still, nothing is going to happen.” Slim smiled, but Alberto couldn’t. “Who’s in the apartment?” Alberto gave a very short snort. “Just us, the kids,” he finally articulated. “How many are there?” “My brother, Joaquin, and me.” “What? Don’t you have a sister?” “Yes - Miriam.” “Is she here also?” “Yes.” “Why didn’t you mention her?” Alberto bit his lower lip. “Because she’s paralyzed.” Slim decided to put away his weapon. “How old are you?” “Twelve.” “And your brother?” “Joaquin? He was nine on Friday.” “And your crippled sister?” “I think she’s seventeen.” “When are your parents returning?” “Tomorrow afternoon.” “And do they always leave all of you alone?” “Not always. Sometimes the servants stay.” “And why don’t they take all of you to Punta del Este?” “It must be because they want to have a peaceful time.” “Are you very mischievous?” “A little.” “Do you like soccer?” “Of course. I’m a goalkeeper and I want to play for Nacional.” “Well, how about that.” “And you?” “Me what?” “Do you like Nacional?” “It seems your fear has passed.” “Yes, a little.” “I like Nacional, too. Rather, I used to.” “Do you like Peñarol now?” “No. I’m no longer a fan.” “What a joke, huh?” Slim scratched his ear. The boy put his hands in his pockets. “Not in your pockets.” “I can’t?” The boy displayed a frightened look again. “Well, put them in your pockets if you want. But behave yourself.” The others returned, accompanied by Joaquin and Miriam. Blackie was pushing the wheelchair. “They say they don’t know where their father keeps the collection.” “Oh, they don’t know.” “They say their father has a collection, but they think he doesn’t keep it here.” Slim looked at Miriam. “You don’t know anything either?” “No.” She seemed calm. Sometimes she moved her hands over the blanket that covered her inert legs, and nothing else. “Sure, since you’re the way you are, you think we’re going to feel pity for you.” “And don’t you?” “I don’t know if it’s pity. It’s fucked up to spend life that way. But at least you live in a very comfortable apartment. There are those who can walk and are nevertheless much worse off.” “It’s better if you don’t have pity on me. I’m sick and tired of pity, understand?” “I can imagine. I also imagine that you know where the collection is.” “You imagine wrong.” At first, Joaquin was whimpering a little, but now he seemed fascinated by the visitors. Miriam had a determined look on her face. “Can the children go to bed?” “If they want to. But I don’t think they’re sleepy.” He looked at Joaquin. “Are you sleepy?” “No.” “Then stay. Maybe you will all end up remembering where your daddy keeps his collection.” “I’ve never seen it.” “But you know he has one.” “Yes.” “Do you know how many pieces are in the collection?” “A pile,” said Joaquin. “How do you know it’s a pile if you’ve never seen it?” “Because mommy is always telling daddy that now it’s dangerous to have that pile of weapons.” “And how many would you say is a pile?” “What do I know? About a thousand.” “And do you like them?” “I like the ones on television.” Slim started to inspect the enormous library. He was separating stacks of ten or twenty books to see if some hiding place, switch, or clue appeared. Miriam was quietly observing his movements. Slim felt he was being watched. “Has your father read all of these books?” “I don’t think so.” “Then why does he have them? For decoration?” “Could be.” Slim signaled to Blondie and Freckles to conduct another search of the entire apartment. “Blackie and I are capable of watching these three.” Miriam looked at her hands. She smiled at Alberto. He seemed calm now, but his eyes were glistening. “Are you cold?” “A little.” With an almost imperceptible gesture, the young woman caught Slim’s attention. “Can you allow my brother to go look for a sweater?” Slim remained quiet for a while. Then he looked at Blackie. “Go with him, will you?” Blackie placed her hand on the young boy’s shoulder, and that’s how they left. “Can I sit down?” asked Joaquin. “Ugh. Yes, you may.” The boy settled comfortably in an armchair. Slim confronted Miriam again. “And you, has your memory returned?” “No.” “Let’s just say that if it returns, you’re going to tell me where your father’s weapons are.” “I have the impression that it’s not going to return.” Slim lit a cigarette and offered one to Miriam. “Thanks, but I can’t smoke. It isn’t only my legs that are worthless, my lungs aren’t first-class either.” Slim was examining the walls. He was giving them little knocks with his knuckles, looking for some spot that sounded hollow. “Do you agree with your father?” “About what?” “Politics, for example.” “Generally, no.” “Why?” “I’m not going to go into details about my differences with my father.” “Do you know that your father generates steadfast hatred?” “I imagine so.” “And do you hate him a little?” “No.” “Then, you love him?” “I already told you that I don’t intend to go into details.” “Nevertheless, sometimes it’s good to unburden oneself with someone. We have all night, if you want.” “Tell me, what are you? A guerilla or an analyst?” “Can’t I be both?” “Ah, good grief.” “Relax. I’m almost not the former, but much less the latter.” “Why almost not the former?” “Because I don’t have a calling.” “Then why do you do it?” “Let’s say I consider it a duty.” “Is that the only reason?” “Well, there’s more. But I’m also not going to go into details.” “Touché.” “At least tell me one thing: What does your father want the weapons for?” “It’s the same as with the books.” “Decoration?” “More or less.” The low tone of the two voices has ended up lulling Joaquin to sleep. Miriam wipes her hand across her forehead. “Are you tired?” “A little. But I have endurance, don’t worry.” “Are you really not going to tell me where the collection is?” “Look for it. I always thought that when you people decided to carry out one of these operations, you already had all the information in hand.” “That’s the ideal situation. But it’s not always like that. We have to leave with the collection, understand?” “Of course, I understand. Are you going to hit me?” “Do you really think I could hit you?” “Why not? When you people are caught, you’re hit hard, aren’t you?” “It’s not the same.” “I know it’s not the same.” Slim seemed ready to continue rattling on, but Blackie returned with Alberto. “Slim, this one is collapsing. Can he go to sleep?” “If I say no, he’ll fall asleep anyway, right?” “I meant to say: Can he sleep in his own bed?” “It’s better that he sleep here, on the sofa. The other one is already asleep. Anyway, bring them blankets.” Blondie and Freckles returned. They weren’t pleased. “And?” “Nothing.” “Did you search well? Did you search everywhere?” “Millimeter by millimeter.” “Nevertheless, they’re definitely here.” “Who knows? Don’t you think it’s better that we leave?” “No, I don’t think so. We are confident and have time to search.” “Look, there’s nothing here. No collection, no nothing. Not even a cap gun. Nothing.” “Look, there is. I’m sure of it.” Miriam moved in her wheelchair. She maneuvered it until she positioned herself in front of Blackie. “I have to go to the bathroom. Will you take me?” “Should I take her, Slim?” “Yes, of course.” Blackie pushed her along a little corridor. She opened the bathroom door and wheeled Miriam in. She was going to close the door again from the outside when Miriam summoned her with a gesture, and with a second gesture indicated that she should close the door from the inside. “What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?” “No.” “Then I’ll leave you alone. Or do you need help?” “No, I don’t need help, but stay.” “Then what do you want?” Miriam shook a little in her wheelchair and her cheeks reddened before she answered. “Tell Slim to go to the kitchen. To the right of the window. The third glazed tile decorated with flowers.”