At Close Quarters Read Free

double-checked that the flash was off, opened the wide-angled lens even if that meant losing resolution, and programmed the camera to take one picture every sixty seconds for half an hour, starting at five twenty. Then he left for work, but all that day experienced a crushing feeling of unlawfulness, like the poacher who sets a trap in private property at sunset and later, during the night, cannot sleep for fear that, in spite of all his safety measures, something unforeseen might happen and the trap might snap shut its iron teeth on innocent ankles.
    Against his habit, he let his employees close the shop and went back home before half past seven. As he was parking the car in the garage he saw three men across the street staring at the ground. One of them was explaining something with emphatic gesturesas he pointed to the fence of the house they were standing by. The pavement was wet, and some water was trickling down into the gutter, as if they had just washed away a stain. Impatient to see the photographs he’d programmed, Samuel did not attach much importance to the scene, and went up to the study without even taking his jacket off. Before switching the lights on, he picked up the tripod and the camera, sighing in relief. He would never do it again, not once, not ever, he said to himself trying to control his shaking hands. Although it wasn’t forbidden to photograph a thoroughfare, he could not help feeling that foul play, fraud or immorality were involved. It was astonishing how many ways there were of acting disgracefully without breaking any article of the law, but he had always tried to do the right, ethical thing and did not expect the penal code to make provisions for every rule of conduct.
    He connected the camera to the computer, downloaded the files and started looking at the pictures. At twenty past five a few mothers were already waiting for the bus. Since the wide lens took in all of the corner and the junction, the figures looked distant and small, as if they’d been captured from a much greater height. The left-handed woman appeared in the fourth picture, walking down the pavement, turning to look at a car that had no doubt gone past at great speed, leaving a fuzzy trail behind it. The picture at five twenty-five showed her looking up to the windowed balcony, and Samuel had such a vivid impression that she was staring straight at the camera, to have her photograph taken, that he jumped back in his chair, startled for a moment. It was as if she knew, as if she had guessed everything.
    The bus had arrived a little earlier than expected, and the photographs showed the children getting off and walking away with their parents until the street was deserted.
    He clicked through the uninteresting images quickly, until one of them caught his attention. Three boys, of about fourteen or fifteen, were walking down the street in front, passing a football around. Their outlines, distant and slightly blurred, suggested aconfident, perhaps rowdy attitude, and one could guess they were being noisy. They were wearing trainers and the kind of sports clothes that looked two sizes too big and which Samuel never knew whether to call modern or downright sloppy. Then something seemed to give them a scare at the fourth house on the street, and without looking Samuel knew what it was: the fearsome pit bull that barked furiously when anyone touched the fence, ready to defend its territory. He too had been caught unawares a few times, and preferred to walk down the opposite pavement. Once the postman had told him he was afraid of dropping post into the letter box of that house.
    The boys, however, had no doubt quickly recovered from the fright, and later appeared shooting the ball against the fence, an adolescent display of bravery in response to the barking. The quiet emptiness of the street was interrupted in the next image, in which a woman who was passing by looked at the scene with a disapproving face. Obviously, there was no