The alarm had gone off. Durval was stunned listening to Heitor’s account, the former army captain who had illicitly entered the laboratories where Botelho had worked on some kind of secret experiment involving a man with horns.
Durval wondered why Heitor would invent such a far-fetched story if it weren’t true. What would he gain from it? On the other hand, Durval had known Botelho for three decades. If he had to choose someone to trust, it would be his friend. But he also knew of Botelho’s oddities and mysteries. Like when he had disappeared from Santa Tereza for almost five years. Even the police were unable to find any trace of the professor’s whereabouts. Eventually, Botelho returned simply stating that he had gone to work in another state. He avoided details and was reluctant to talk about it. That event had even shaken their friendship. From then on, they never enjoyed the esteem and camaraderie they had in their youth.
— The sound of the alarm was shrill, it seemed to penetrate the ears, go to the brain, and shake the brains inside — Heitor continued.
“I looked at the laboratory door and saw Second Lieutenant De Matos running toward me. He said that Gouveia had fled down the stairs when the alarm went off. Truly a complete idiot. It was evident that soldiers would be coming down the stairs.
“We were on the fifth basement, there was no way to jump out of windows or sneak out of the laboratory. If we hid, we would be found; if we fled, we would be captured. In that situation, the best thing to do was to wait for arrest and perhaps a discharge from the Armed Forces. That was the best course of action, but it wasn’t what I did. If there was a chance of at least not being caught red-handed, that would already be something.
“I climbed onto one of the tables with surgical instruments, being careful not to knock anything over, and asked De Matos to help me reach one of the steel structures descending from the ceiling with monitors and panels. Maybe we could hide on top of that thing. It seemed firm enough to hold our weight. I held onto the metal edge supporting the panels with both hands and lifted my body, using De Matos for support to manage to place one foot on the iron bar crossing the structure below. With a push, I reached one of the recesses of the larger support coming from the ceiling and squeezed myself into the gap between the edge of the support and the central structure. The space must have been less than forty centimeters wide, but I squeezed in lying face down. A screw or something sharp was pressing against my neck. If someone looked up, they could see me. But it was a risk we had to take. At least there was a chance. De Matos could hide in the second support that ran parallel to mine, but I noticed he had moved away toward the surgical tables.
“The alarm continued to sound shrill when a squad of soldiers burst into the laboratory.”
Episode XXXV continues in the next edition.
JOSÉ GASPAR
Filmmaker and writer
www.historiasdooutromundo.com