The Ministry of Special Cases Read Free Page B

the flashlight and brought it close to the murdered boy’s head. “Such a nose as this God hasn’t set on a Jewish face in two thousand years. It’s smaller than yours on the day you were born.” Bringing the lens up to his chin, Kaddish lit his own face like a sundial. In the Poznan family it was understood (and oft pointed out) that Kaddish’s ample snout was the smallest of the three. Unscientific a proof as it was, Kaddish thought his point was made. He lowered the flashlight and took Pato by the arm. “Time to go home,” he said. “LetFeigenblum and his board deal with the Jews on this side. We, my
hijo de hijo de puta
, have Jews of our own.”
    Kaddish coughed his morning cough and scratched the parts that needed scratching. He made his way into the kitchen, surprised to find his wife still there. The paper was spread across the little table, and Lillian, holding a section, looked up at him over half-glasses.
    Kaddish kissed her on the cheek and sat down at her side. “It won’t be in today’s papers.”
    “How do you know what I’m looking for?” Lillian said.
    “An ambush is my only guess if you’re not at work.”
    “Everyone is always against you.”
    “They usually are,” Kaddish said. He patted at the newspaper on the table. Lillian brought out the ashtray from underneath.
    “You’re going to get yourself killed,” she said.
    “You’re opposed then?”
    Lillian reached underneath a second time. She passed the lighter to Kaddish but she didn’t let go, his hand clasped over hers.
    “I’m worried for my son.”
    “The greater everyone’s fear of the future, the more they want the names gone.”
    “At some point it becomes too much.”
    “I’m finally bringing home real money and now you want me to stop? But you don’t, not yet, do you? The line hasn’t been crossed.”
    “It has for Pato.”
    Pato stood in the doorway in his underwear. “I don’t want to do it anymore,” he said.
    “And I don’t want him to,” Lillian said. “And I don’t want you to either. This time you find a body. Next time,” she said, “who knows?”
    Pato slipped behind his father and went over to the stove. Kaddish turned and stared at him while he spoke. “So the police kill the rebels who would otherwise kill each other and terrorize us. It’s a tragedy for someone, but it’s not ours.”
    “You saw him same as me. That wasn’t a rebel,” Pato said. “It was another kid. I’m telling you, they kill for no reason. Innocents shot dead.”
    “His throat was slit, first of all. And second, if he was innocent, all the better if we keep at it. Let’s stay guilty and then we’ll be safe.”
    “It’s not a joke,” Pato said. He shook the empty kettle and stuck it under the faucet. “Things are spinning out of control.”
    “Jesus, what do you think out-of-control will look like if this isn’t it? The government is cleaning up and when they’re done things can only improve. You’ll see, safer is the way this country is heading. Safer—and you and your stupid friends better watch it—for those who don’t make trouble and keep their big noses clean.”
    “You’re a fascist,” Pato said, setting the kettle on the fire.
    “Good for me,” Kaddish said. He put out his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke.

[ Three ]
    PEOPLE DIE EVERY DAY , their houses burn down around them, they tumble from ladder and rooftop, swallow fat olives down the wrong pipe. They are also found murdered in many original ways. But a lot more people are afraid of a gory, violent, untimely death than manage to get themselves killed. This is how Lillian’s office made its money. She worked in insurance. People paid them premiums against their worst fears.
    Lillian always found it disappointing when she was processing claims. It wasn’t about the money paid out, as none of it was hers. It was the inevitable emptiness in trying to replace property or human life with a company check. It was a sleight of hand