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." She leaned across the table toward Coy, glass in hand."Did you see that Roland Joffe film, The Mission! The Jesuits taking the part of the natives?"Coy vaguely remembered the film—a video on board ship, one you end up seeing three or four times, in bits and pieces, during a long voyage.Robert De Niro, he seemed to remember.And maybe Jeremy Irons.He hadn't even remembered they were Jesuits.'All that," Tanger added, "meant that the Spanish Jesuits were sitting on a powder keg, and the only thing missing was the match."No sign of Horacio Kiskoros, Coy noted as he looked around.A young married couple was sitting at the next table, tourists with two blond little boys, an unfolded map, and a camera.The kids were playing with plastic slingshots similar to the ones from his childhood, when he'd played hooky to wander the quays.He'd made his sling himself from a V-shaped piece of wood, strips of old inner tubes, a scrap of leather, and a few inches of wire.Now, he thought nostalgically, such things were sold in stores and cost an arm and a leg."The match," Tanger continued her story, "was Esquilache's uprising.Although the direct intervention of the Jesuits in the disorder hasn't been proved, it is true that about that same timethey were trying to boycott Charles's enlightened ministers______ Esquilache, who was Italian, proposed, among other things, that the broad-brimmed hats and capes the Spanish cloaked themselves in be banned, and that was the source of serious disturbances.Calm was restored, the minister was dismissed, but the Jesuits were thought to be the instigators.The king decided to expel the Society and to seize its wealth."Coy nodded mechanically.Tanger was talking more than usual, as if she had prepared her comments during the night.It was only logical, he told himself.With the appearance of Kiskoros on the scene and the meeting suggested by Nino Palermo, she had no choice but to compensate by giving him more information.The closer they came to the objective, the more she realized that Coy was not going to be satisfied with crumbs.Basically stingy with her information, however, she kept doling out her supply with an eye-dropper.That may have been why, to Coy's disappointment, he didn't feel the same interest he had at other times.He too had had a long night to reflect.Too many facts, he was thinking now.Too many words, but very few were concrete.Everything you tell me, beautiful, I studied more than twenty years ago in school.You hope to string me along with historical swill, without ever getting to the meat of the matter.You are pretending to show with one hand what you're hiding in the other fist.He was fed up, and he thought less of himself for staying.And yet.That line of foam on her upper lip, the reflection of the bright morning light in the navy-blue irises, the damp tips of the blond hair framing her freckles—taken together, it worked a singular, nearly seductive magic Every time he looked at this puzzling girl, Coy was sure he was in too deep, he was sailing so far into the dark area on the nautical chart of his life that it was impossible to turn back now.Knights and knaves: I will lie to you and deceive you.The truth was that he didn't give a damn about the mystery of the lost ship.It was the girl—her doggedness, her quest, all that she was prepared to undertake for a dream—that kept him on this course despite the unmistakable sound of the sea perilously breaking on rocks nearby.He wanted to get as close to her as he could, to see her face as she slept, sense her waking and looking at him, touch that warm skin and know, in the depths of the skin and flesh that contained her, the smiling girl of the photograph in the silver frame.She had stopped talking and was studying him suspiciously, silently asking whether he was paying attention to what she was saying.Not without effort, Coy pushed his thoughts aside, fearful that she could read them, and looked back at the pigeons.Among them, one male, very sure of himself and very much the gallant, puffed out his chest amid a bevy of feathered beauties running in circles and casting sidelong glances at him, kiss-kissing and cooing.And at that moment, the boys at the next table swooped toward the peaceful birds, shouting war whoops.Coy checked out the father, very calmly occupied with his newspaper.Then the mother, making sure that occasionally she cast a lazy eye over the plaza.Finally, he turned to Tanger.With her back to the scene, she picked up the story."Everything was prepared in the greatest secrecy in Madrid.By direct order of the king, a small group was formed that excluded anyone who was a partisan of the Society, or even impartial.The objective was to gather evidence and prepare the decree of expulsion [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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