Giles Blunt - Breaking Lorca

PRAISE FOR BREAK NG LORCA AND GILES BLUNT

Blunt writes with the flashing grace of an ice skater skimming over a frozen pond.

The New York Times Book Review

Breaking Lorca is an utterly vivid, completely disturbing account of how thugs with authority unrestrained by the rule of law and untempered by the quality of mercy can go about the physical, mental and emotional destruction of a person.

The Gazette

A master storyteller.

Margaret Cannon, The Globe and Mail

This is a quick, smooth read on a heavy, difficult topic. The craftsmanship is excellent.

Ottawa Citizen

Giles Blunt writes with uncommon grace, style and compassion and he plots like a demon.

Jonathan Kellerman, the New York Times bestselling author of Capital Crimes

Breaking Lorca is a tautly written novel that takes readers on a harrowing journey into the heart of political darkness.

Guelph Mercury

Few can match Blunts wit, wry observations and emotionally charged background sketches.

Edmonton Journal

Its Blunts sense of place that is unique; that assures us he can join the select group of writerssuch as Ian Rankin or Tony Hillermanwho can locate their readers in a fictional universe as physically real as the chair they inhabit.

The Observer

For Janna

PART ONE

I have shut my windows.
I do not want to hear the weeping.
But from behind the grey walls.
Nothing is heard but the weeping. FEDERICO GARCA LORCA

ONE

S OONER OR LATER the other soldiers in the squad were going to kill him. It was only a matter of time. Victor had never done anything to antagonize the brutes he worked with, but he was sure they hated him, or soon would.

He had wanted such a different life. He had wanted to be a teacher, but war had come and schools were closed. Many teachers were killed, many disappeared. Both of Victors parents were dead; he had joined the army out of necessity. Now all he wanted was to stay alive.

He tried to concentrate on the paperback in his hand. Victor was reading Of Mice and Men very slowly, and with an EnglishSpanish dictionarybut even reading at this turtles pace, he was touched by the loyalty between the two men: big, dumb Lenny and shrewd, crabby George. John Steinbeck knew that people should exist in pairs. Victor would have given anything for a friend, someone to be loyal to, but there was no one like that in this place.

A friend might have helped stem the tide of fear that rose around him; he could feel it lapping at his chin. Soon the waters would close over his mouth and nose and he would drown altogether. The Captain hated him to be reading, he knew that, but there was simply no other way, lacking a friend, that he could distract himself from the fear thatmaybe not for a month, maybe not for twothe other soldiers were going to kill him.

In America, now, things would be different. They had jobs in America, not war. You didnt have to carry a rifle to prove your manhood. He could go to a vast American city and lose himself among the crowds. No one would know what a coward he was. He would work at two jobs, three if necessary, and perhaps one day open a restaurant or a store. Maybe New York, maybe Washington, he hadnt decided yet. That was the nice thing about a fantasy, there were no decisions to make. He devoted himself to the study of English, knowing that one day he would speak it in America. Oh, all of the soldiers spoke a little English, but none of them could read ithe wasnt even sure if his uncle could read it.

Not that he could lose himself for long in fantasy, not at the little school. The air was sour with the smell of bodily fluids. The guardroom was a tiny space between the cells and the interrogation room. Pretty much the only thing the soldier on guard had to do was to bring the latrine bucket to the cells as needed, and to shoot anyone who tried to escape. There was no chance of that. Guard duty was easy, but the stench from the cells was not something you could forget for more than a few minutes at a time.

Reading again. The Captain filled the entire doorway, casting a shadow over the book.

Yes. Same story, Victor said, showing the cover. Anger emanated from his uncle like heat from a stove.

Captain Pea did not even glance at the book. Thats why you took guard duty, I suppose. Even though its not your turn.

The others enjoy their card games. I thought, why not let them?

You dont do it for them. You do it because you want to read.

Well, yes, he said with what he hoped was a disarming smile. Reading is definitely my vice.

Dont imagine youre making friends by taking extra duty. You read in here because you dont want to be with them. You think they dont know that?

They like cards, I like books. Why is that a problem?

Dont be stupid. They know you are from a different class. By reading, you rub their noses in it.

I dont think Im better than them.

Then youre even stupider than I thought. With your background and education? Of course you are better than them. But youre a corporal, not a general, and from now on you take your breaks like everybody else. You spend your free time with your brothers-in-arms.

Its just going to cause trouble, sir. They dont want me around.

They never will, if you dont make the effort.

A prisoner called out, Please. I need the bucket. I cant wait any longer.

Victor started to get up.

Sit down. Im talking to you.

Victor sat down.

Im beginning to wonder why I saved your ass. I should have let Casarossa put you in front of that firing squad.

Please dont think Im ungrateful, sir. Im very grateful. That was true. He was still amazed that his uncle, whom he had never known all that well, had saved him.

I didnt do it for you. What would your father do if he knew he had a coward for a son?

He would have shot me himself, Victor said. He would have had no mercy.

Exactly. You didnt deserve any. That fake wound on your head.

The wound was not fake, sir. I ran into a guy wire.

Very convenient to fall into a ditch just when the fire-fight is about to begin. Quite a coincidence.

I cant say. I dont know what happened.

Oh, of course not. You were unconscious through the whole thing.

The prisoner called out again, Please. The bucket. I cant hold out any longer.

Victor started to stand.

His uncle screamed so that the veins stood out on his neck. You get up when I tell you to get up and not before! You think our dainty little prisoners need a bucket every time they whine for one? Forget the prisoners. The prisoners are dogs.

Yes, sir.

Dogs. The Captain took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He spoke more softly, as if he had suddenly remembered they were blood relatives. I blame myself for letting things slide. Two weeks go by and you dont make the slightest effort to fit in. Well, things are going to change, understand?

Yes, sir.

Number one: no more reading. Is that clear?

Yes, sir.

Number two: you spend your free time with your squad. Is that clear?

Yes, sir.

Number three: Im going to be on your tail night and day. No more mollycoddling. Youre my nephew, youre a PeaI expect more of you, not less.

Yes, sir.

Every day Im going to move you a little bit closer to the heart of what we do in this place. If you stay on the edge, the others wont trust you. I know the work is hard, I know it doesnt come naturally. You think I like this work?

No, sir.

I hate this work. God knows how I hate this work. But its my duty, and you do your duty or you are nothing but a traitor, you understand?

Yes, sir.

Holy Mother, the things Ive had to witness. They would make you sick just to hear about them. The war has forced this on us, the fucking Communists. I get no pleasure from what we do here. I just do my job, understand? And from now on, you will be one with the team. Otherwise, Ill send you back to Casarossa with my apologies. Or maybe not. Maybe Ill just shoot you myself.

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