03.3 Photographer

Jamal had one more trick up his sleeve. He bought two bottles of vodka and drove to Avenida Mozart, not too far from his lodge. On Lugones bend, he stopped at Diego Lopez. An empty field, green grass and less trees, shanty huts scattered and some in congested rows. A little child stood there by the door holding a doll and soaking it from her running nose.

He peered and called, “Diego!” And the girl cried for grandpa.

Diego Lopez appeared, “Hola Mr Fish!”

“Hola!” returned Jamal, “I brought you a bottle.”

“Gracias, that is awfully kind of you.”

“I come to talk about your magic.”

“Come!” he ushered him to his sleeping compartment.

“Can you really make a woman knock on your door?”

“Absolutely,” said Lopez motioning the child to disperse.

“How?” asked Jamal.

“When the angel snaps a finger at you and asks to follow, you are so powerless that you just follow.”

“Can you see the angel?”

“No,” Lopez shook his head.

“How do you control an angel?”

“Prayers,” he voiced, “we only pray and the magic we do is a little gesture of sacrifice. We do not control angels. We pray.”

“And the girl will do whatever I ask?”

“With what intent?” asked Lopez.

“Desire. To sleep with…”

“In that case it is the raven that attracts the wolf,” he said.

“The Raven!” Jamal frowned.

“The Angel Mazzikin. Some say she is a nasty little demon,” explained Diego Lopez. “A little demon who creates a lot of annoyance in people. She can make a woman crave.”

“She is a devil then!”

He nodded, “Devil is an angel. Demons are angels. They all come from the same place. Heaven. Thrown out or walk out. Like human beings, they are capable to turn down or betray and crossover to the other side. Evil stays among us and hides among us like the wolf in sheep’s skin.”

“Why?” asked Jamal.

“I think they do not fear because there is nothing to fear. The evil fears nothing. Fear is the strongest primitive instinct for survival. Evil does without.

“Someday something stirs and it will be the most catastrophic thing you could think of. And there’s always a man behind it with an evil intent.”

“I believe you. I actually saw it with my own eyes.” Jamal produced the envelope and took a black-and-white print of the woman he got in mind, “This woman, can you fix her!”

“Are you crazy?” cried Lopez.

“What’s the matter?”

“It is not that easy as you think.”

“Why?” asked Jamal.

“I have to find a Magellan Orchid from Patagonia on the Chilean border. The one that has no specific use other than black magic. A rare kind of orchid. Flowering takes place in spring and now it’s autumn. You just don’t get it!” He made it sound as most impractical.

“I’ll give you twenty dollars,” he said.

“Twenty!” shrugged Lopez.

“Fifty.”

“Today is 15^th Monday. New Moon. It is absolutely the wrong time,” he waved a hand to make it sound impossible.

“I know you can do it. I’m serious here,” said Jamal, “Get started, Diego!”

Lopez sighed, “Very difficult.”

“I give you thousand pesos now. Do it and fifty dollars I give later, I promise.”

“I have to get that orchid. Well, I would need that photograph to make a voodoo doll. I have to make the subject emollient for it isn’t the correct timing.”

“Keep it,” Jamal passed the photo.

“Where did you find her?”

“She’s some Moroc in town.”

He returned to his lodge at La Rosaleda and checked the telephone for any incoming call. Finding none, he poured vodka in tomato juice and uttered, “Bloody Mary!”

An hour later, he went to the Silverside Club. He found the cloaked group of visitors celebrating a special occasion and feasting at Los Mariscos. Jamal decided not to bother.

It was midnight when the phone rang loud enough to bring down the ceiling. Jamal grabbed the handset.

“It’s me. I couldn’t call earlier.”

“It’s alright. Have you decided?”

“What is it that you want?” she asked.

“A date. Let’s say a walk, have lunch together,” he gambled, “There are many places we can go. By the way, you did not come to the beach.”

“You breach my privacy.”

“I don’t…”

There was silence.

“I will come,” said Marina.

“At what time?” he popped his eyes.

“Two in the afternoon at Malibet. You must bring the film.”

The line went dead.

Jamal flung from bed and dialled Diego Lopez who answered after a long wait.

“She called,” cried Jamal, “She wants to meet me at noon. Have you got the orchid?”

“No, I have to collect it,” replied Lopez, “I will do first thing in the morning.”

“What were you doing all this time?”

“I did the doll. I have everything ready, Mr Fish. Don’t worry.”

“Damn! I cannot sleep. You must come with the stuff before noon,” cried Jamal.

“I will.”

In the first light, Jamal climbed up to the rooftop with his camera and the prints. He used a normal lens and a new film to duplicate the original negatives just in case she’d ask for the film strips.