Here in this rural area, favorable to roosters and hens, pigs, rabbits, and other animals, the wake-up call was heard for a radius of hundreds of yards. The old man slept on the sofa, a blanket protecting him from the cold that was common at night in this region. The easy chair where the cripple had sat was now occupied by Raul Brandão Monteiro, sleeping poorly, with his eyes closed, in a very light doze, waking with the smallest chirp of a cricket or crowing of a cock, like this one. The cripple must be walking one of his disciplined rounds, since no precaution was too great when one’s enemies were powerful. Raul got up, half asleep, put on the shoes that had slipped off his feet while he tossed and turned during the night, and faced the dawn of a new day. He’d spent hours watching the phone in hope of news, ignoring the fact that the phone would be heard when it needed to be answered. He’d checked it over and over, the keypad, the receiver, to be sure the phone was working perfectly.
