The Blue Line by Ingrid Betancourt Page B

the death of Juan García Elorrio. It was apparently a car accident. But a lot of people wanted to silence him. He was the editor of
Christianity and Revolution
. Either way, the magazine didn’t survive his death.”
    â€œSo your theory is that he was assassinated?”
    â€œYes. Everyone knew he was very influential. He was the one who named the first Montoneros cell after Camilo Torres.”
    â€œCamilo Torres?” asked Julia.
    â€œYes, the Colombian priest. He joined the guerrillas but was gunned down by the army during their first ambush.”
    Julia began to sweat profusely, even though it was a cool evening. Theo and Mama Fina exchanged a knowing look and put her to bed. Theo said good-bye, feeling worried.
    The next day Mama Fina and Julia spent the morning at the Villa 31 cooperative. Señora Pilar had resigned, and they urgently needed to find someone to replace her. Mama Fina was backing one of her former recruits who had applied for the position, but the woman clearly did not have the respect of her coworkers. The matter dragged on.
    Julia was growing impatient. It was a gorgeous day, and she didn’t want to be stuck indoors. Besides, she was keen to watch a football match that the
villeros
were playing in Retiro that same day, Saturday, May 11. The match was due to startat half past two and she had just enough time to get there. She gathered up her things and left a note for Mama Fina.
    All the players on Father Mugica’s team, La Bomba, had found themselves uniforms. They looked good. By the time Julia arrived the match had already begun, and the atmosphere was festive. The whole neighborhood had turned out. Street vendors were selling fried food and soda. Small groups of stout middle-aged women were standing around, bundled up in sweaters. Old men, beers in hand, smoked with an air of rediscovered youth, while children played alongside them, throwing an imaginary ball to each other and performing amazing acrobatics. Everyone had managed to wear something in their team’s colors. The fans were going wild, waving banners and chanting insults about the opposing team. La Bomba broke every record and Father Mugica played like a professional, weaving in and out, sidestepping, and jumping better than the younger players.
    He left after the match, dripping with sweat and obviously in a hurry. He teased Julia as he went by with a “Hello, my guardian angel!” which made her blush. All the same, she took the opportunity to tell him she would also be coming to the seven o’clock Mass that evening.
    â€œLike you have every day for the past month,” he said, giving her a wink. He was in an excellent mood. He took her by the shoulders and walked some of the way with her. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “It’s too beautiful a day for it to be my last.”
    â€”
    Julia was about to leave for Villa Luro when Mama Fina opened the door. She came in like a whirlwind of energy, wanting to hear all about the match. Mama Fina took football very seriously, even local amateur games. She had witnessed the growth of the Boca Juniors, nicknamed Los Xeneizes, in her own neighborhood and had long been a member of La 12, the team’s
barra brava
. * Julia checked her watch. It was ten minutes to seven. With a bit of luck, they would get there before the service ended.
    It was already dark by the time they got the bus to Villa Luro. The traffic was moving slowly. Julia hadn’t accounted for that possibility. As they neared the church, they realized something had happened. Police cars blocked the street. Bystanders were talking about a murder attempt. Father Mugica had been taken in an ambulance to Salaberry Hospital in Mataderos. He was still in the operating theater. People were saying the outlook wasn’t good. A growing murmur filled the street. Agonized members of the congregation were explaining to the many curious passersby that he had been