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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35904-8.txt b/35904-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e48331a --- /dev/null +++ b/35904-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13543 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Five Arrows, by Allan Chase + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Five Arrows + + +Author: Allan Chase + + + +Release Date: April 19, 2011 [eBook #35904] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE ARROWS*** + + +E-text prepared by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Transcriber's note: + + Extensive research indicates the copyright on this book + was not renewed. + + + + + +THE FIVE ARROWS + +by + +ALLAN CHASE + + + + + + + +Random House - New York + + + + +_Chapter one_ + + +The governor's wife pointed across the bay to a speck in the black sky. +Ground lights in Catanzas were focusing their blue shafts on the speck, +moving as the plane moved, one light trying to lead the ship. + +A thin stream of glowing red and orange tracer bullets soared up at the +plane from the Catanzas side of the bay. A moment passed before the +Governor's guests on the terrace of La Fortaleza could hear the muffled +thud-thud of the distant ground batteries. Someone, the wife of a +visiting government official, exclaimed, "My goodness, I've only seen +this in the newsreels before!" + +Now the plane veered, slowly, and the lights from the San Juan side +joined the Catanzas batteries in pinning the plane to the dark clouds. +The sleeve target fastened to the tail of the plane could now be seen +from the terrace. Most of the Governor's guests gasped as the first +bright jets of tracers missed the silver sleeve and sailed into the +black void above it. The ack-ack batteries were speaking with more +harshness now; one of them, planted between two brick buildings, added +crashing echoes to their own reports as the guns went off. + +The bombing of Pearl Harbor was still very much a topic of conversation +on the island; the submarine nets in the bay were joked about at the +dinner table, but the jokes arose from a profound sense of gratitude for +the nets, the planes, the ships which were the island's defenses against +the undersea raiders that stalked the sea lanes between the ports of the +mainland and San Juan. + +The plane shifted course again, now headed directly toward La Fortaleza. +Through the increasing din of the ground guns, the Governor's young +military aide, Lieutenant Braga, could barely hear the ring of the +telephone nearest the terrace. He took the call, then returned to the +terrace and tapped one of the guests on the shoulder. "It's for you, Mr. +Hall," he said. "It's Tom Harris at Panair." + +Matthew Hall stood up quietly and walked into the cavernous reception +room. He walked carefully, with the steel-spring tread of a man who +seems to expect the floor to blow up under him at any moment. For +thirty-three years Matthew Hall had walked as other men. Since he was +not conscious of his new walk, he could not say when it had become part +of him. His friends had first noticed it in Paris, in '39, but had +expected it to wear off as soon as the prison pallor disappeared. The +pallor had gone; the walk remained. + +Hall's head and shoulders and hands were part of this walk. He moved +with his head forward and his shoulders hunched, with his hands slightly +cocked, almost like a fighter slowly advancing to mid-ring. The +shoulders were broad and thick, so broad that although Hall was of more +than average height they made him appear shorter and chunky. + +The face of Matthew Hall had changed, too, with his walk. There were the +obvious changes: the deep channel of a scar on his broad forehead, the +smaller one on his right jaw. The nose had changed twice, the first time +in 1938 when it was broken in San Sebastian. It had swelled enormously +and then knit badly and nearly two years later a New York surgeon had +done an expensive job of rebreaking and resetting the nose. Some bones +had been taken out and the once classic lines were now slightly +flattened. The scars and the dented nose blended strangely well with the +jaws that had always been a bit too long and the soft brown poet's eyes +which had so often betrayed Hall. With his eyes, Hall spoke his +contempt, his anger, his amusement, his joy. The eyes unerringly spoke +his inner feelings; they were always beyond his control. + +Changes more subtle than the scars and the flattened nose had come over +Hall's face within the past few years. It now had a queer, angry cast. +His lips seemed to be set in a new and almost permanent grimace of +bitterness. Also the right side of his face, the cheek and the mouth, +had a way of twitching painfully when Hall was bothered and upset. And +yet, as Governor Dickenson had already noted, Hall was not a completely +embittered man. More often than not, his eyes would light up with a look +of amused irony, the look of a man much moved by an immense private joke +he would be glad to share with his friends if he but knew how to tell it +properly. + +When Hall had risen to leave the terrace, the Governor noticed that his +cheek was twitching, but once he was alone in the reception room, away +from the sight of the tracers and the target plane, Hall's face grew +calm again. He sat down in the green armchair near the phone, picked up +the receiver. "Yes, Tom," he said, "any luck?" + +"Sure. I busted open a seat for you on the San Hermano plane for +tomorrow at six." + +"Was it much trouble, Tom?" + +"Not much." Tom Harris laughed. "We had to throw Giselle Prescott off to +make room for you. Know her?" + +"God, no! But thanks a lot." + +"I'll pick you up in the morning then. Good night, Matt." + +Hall put the receiver back on the cradle. He sat back in the soft chair, +oblivious of the crashing guns, the hum of the plane's engines, the +others on the terrace. Only one thing was in his mind now--San Hermano. + +It was some time before the young Puerto Rican lieutenant slipped +gingerly into the room. "Mr. Hall," he said, softly, "everything O.K.?" + +Hall smiled warmly. "My God," he asked, "you don't think the guns drove +me in here?" + +The officer blushed. "Fix you a drink?" he asked. + +Hall shook his head, drew two Havanas from his jacket. "No, thanks. +Cigar? It's from the one box I remembered to buy in Havana." + +The boy was a non-smoker. He lit a match for Hall, waited until the +older man relaxed with the burning cigar. Politely, he said, "I know +you've been through plenty, Mr. Hall. I'm a soldier, but if ..." + +"Plenty? Me?" + +The lieutenant nodded. "_The Revenger_," he said, hesitantly. "I--I read +your book." + +"Oh, that," Hall said. "_The Revenger_." So _The Revenger_ was plenty! + +"If there's anything I can get you ..." + +The boy's voice seemed to come from far away and Hall realized that he +himself was staring into space and that the lieutenant must have sat +there for a full minute waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry," he said. +"I'm really sorry. I guess I just get this way once in a while." + +"It's my fault," Braga protested. "I should have known how hard it must +be for you to talk about--it." + +"_De nada_," Hall laughed. "I made a lecture tour last year and spent +five nights a week talking about it for months. It's just that +I'm--well, that I just catch myself staring at nothing at the craziest +times. Maybe I do need that drink. What's in the shaker there--Daiquiri? +Good." He poured two Daiquiris from the jar on the sideboard, handed one +to the lieutenant. "I know you don't drink, either," he said. "But I'm +having this drink to toast victory--and you're a soldier." + +When they touched glasses, the boy saw that amused look in Hall's eyes, +the look he had seen earlier at the dinner table when one of the +visiting officials had expressed such innocent amazement at the enormity +of his first taxi bill in San Juan. "I'd better go back out there when I +finish this drink," he said. "I'm glad nothing's wrong with you." + +"You're a right guy, Lieutenant. Thanks for looking in." Hall returned +to his chair as the boy walked out to the terrace. So _The Revenger_ was +plenty! And the kid, how old was he? Twenty? Not a day more. Which made +him eighteen when the Nazi torpedo planes peeled off over the African +skies and then roared in to send their tin fish into the guts of His +Majesty's own _Revenger_. Which made him fourteen when the fighting +began, fourteen when the German pilot officers clicked their heels and +mouthed the new phrase "_Arriba España_" and flew the Moors from Spanish +Morocco to the mainland and touched off the shooting stages of World War +II. "_Ay, Teniente_," he muttered, "you've made me feel old as hell. +Older." + +Hall leaned back in his chair, tried to blow a series of smoke rings. He +thought: But I'm not old. I've just seen things and done things and had +things done to me. I'm not old at all. + + * * * * * + +After years of anonymity in various city rooms in the States, a brief +turn as a byline correspondent in Washington, a still briefer career as +a Broadway playwright, Matthew Hall had drawn an assignment as +third-string man for the World Press in Paris. That was in 1935, when he +was crowding thirty. The job had introduced him to Europe, and carried +him to Geneva, to Belgrade, to Bucharest, to Stockholm. Paris was the +journalistic capital of the Continent; when things happened outside of +Paris, it was a Paris man who was sent to the scene to cover. There he +would find that the office had adequate coverage in the permanent man, +and if he had any curiosity or craftsman's pride he would try to get the +story behind the story. Hall had both. They led him to the strange +half-world of tipsters, hounded opposition leaders, minor officials of +ministries who would talk and produce documents for a fee, candid and +cynical free-lance agents, wise old frightened politicians who sensed +the coming catastrophe in their bones, correct and stiff Nazi advance +agents and politely lavish native fascists who mixed queer brews for +foreign correspondents. They were the _sources close to a key ministry, +the influential elder statesmen, the prominent industrialists whose +names cannot be used_ who figured so prominently in the inside-Europe +dispatches of the era. + +July, 1936, had found Hall in Nice spending a long week-end as the guest +of a prominent refugee banker from Germany. The banker was the "inside" +prophet of the month in Parisian newspaper circles. His gospel was the +slightly shopworn one about German industry being fed up with Hitler and +willing to settle on Goering, Danzig and a few worthless colonies in +Africa as the price for eliminating the "extreme Nazis" and returning to +the family of Europe. "He's a damned Nazi himself," Hall had declared +when the invitation reached his office, but the bureau manager was +missing no bets. "I don't care what he is, Matt. He's a story. He's +news. He's what they want to read about in Washington and in London and +in Paris." + +Hall never wrote his story on the refugee banker (who later turned up as +a Nazi economist overlord in Denmark). On a blistering Sunday Paris had +called him by phone. Hell was popping in Madrid. The regular Madrid man +was vacationing in the States. "Get to Madrid, Matt. Looks like you'll +be busy there for a couple of weeks until it blows over." + +Like many of his American colleagues, Hall traveled to Madrid during +that first week of the war with the idea that in less than a month one +side or another would have been installed in power and he himself would +be back in Paris listening to the latest faker peddling the newest line +of disguised Nazism from Berlin. But Hall was an honest man. What he saw +interested and then intrigued and then enraged him. "This is no Spanish +Civil War," he wrote to the Paris office in a confidential memo sent by +courier. "This is the start of the second World War. It's the Germans +and the Italians against the Spaniards. Maybe I'm crazy, but it looks to +me like the British and the French are backing the fascists, while the +Russians are trying to help the Republicans. How about sending someone +in to cover the shooting for a week while I write a big story along +these lines?" + +He was answered in due time. "Stick to the military conflict between the +Nationalists and the Loyalists. And don't send us any Red propaganda." + +That was in October, when Caballero was preparing to quit Madrid in +panic, and the Fifth Army was calmly preparing to hold the city, +Caballero or no Caballero. Hall had long since lost his magnificent WP +objectivity. Through the open mails he sent a letter of resignation to +Paris. Antin in the Censura held the letter up, sent for Hall. The +Spaniard hemmed and hawed and cleared his throat a dozen times and then +he got up from his desk and embraced Hall and told him to sit down. +Hall's Spanish was pretty good by then, good enough for Antin to speak +to him in fluent Spanish rather than halting English. "The English I can +read with my eyes. The Spanish I speak with my heart." + +Was it that Hall was resigning because he loved the Republic? Yes, I +guess you could call it that. (You could also call it a good craftsman's +stubborn ideas about how to cover a war, but you didn't.) Did Hall +realize that, if he quit, an enemy of the Republic might be sent to take +his place? No, Hall didn't think. Come to think of it, though, the +office had Cavanaugh and Raney available and those two Jew-haters and +Mussolini-lovers would be no friends of the Republic. You are a friend, +a _compañero_, it is right that you know. We have so many problems with +the foreign press. McBain from New York, we know he is a spy, he has +links with the Falange. If we arrest him, the world hollers Red Terror. +So we watch him, keep all his letters, hold up his cables. Thank God he +is a drunkard; two SIM men keep him drunk most of the time. Maybe his +office will fire him. You are a friend. You write the truth. Even a +little truth by a friend whose editor chops up his cables helps the +Republic. + +Hall tore up his letter of resignation. When the Republic captured +thousands of Italians after Guadalajara and Bruejega, Hall filed long +stories based on interviews with the Blackshirts. When the Republic +captured Nazi Condor officers and men at Belchite, Hall sent photographs +of their documents to Paris with his stories. + +New York kicked, and Paris warned Hall repeatedly. Finally Paris +transferred him to the Franco side. That was at the end of '38, when the +Republicans had seen their hopes dashed at Munich and the only thing +that kept them going was the feeling that they could hold out until the +Nazi Frankenstein finally turned on London and Paris. "Then France will +have to rush arms and maybe a few divisions to us and the British fleet +will have to patrol the Mediterranean and the Russian planes, unable to +get through now, will be able to come in through France and through the +Mediterranean." Antin figured it out that way, told it to Hall the week +before some nice clean crusaders for Christianity let him have it with a +tommy gun in the back in a Barcelona café. + +The Falangistas were very glad to have Hall behind their lines. Their +friends pulled some wires in New York and Washington and, after two +months, Hall was fired, but by then his notebook was growing thicker and +he elected to stay as a free lance. He was seeing the face of fascism +for the first time, he wrote, and seeing it at close range. He would +stay, job or no job. He stayed, and the Gestapo in San Sebastian wrote +out an order and a rat-faced little aristocrat with an embroidered gold +yoke and arrows on his cape was studying Hall's notes and smirking like +a villain in a bad movie. + +There were no charges and no explanations. They just slapped Hall into a +cell in solitary, and once a day they handed him a bucket for slops and +once a day he got a chunk of bread or a thin chick-pea stew. In the +beginning he had hollered for the American consul, but the German guard +would grin and say, "_No entiendo Español, Ich sprech kein Englisch_," +and finally Hall just settled down to waiting for the end of the war. + +Every now and then a smooth German major would have him brought out for +questioning; that scar on his head and the scar on his chin were grim +mementos of those sessions. The Spaniards were bad but the Germans were +worse. The Italians were just hysterical. There was the day the Italian +officer made the mistake of getting too close and Hall clipped him with +a weak right hook. The Blackshirt screamed like a woman and clung to his +eye; that was when they tied him to the wall and let him have it with +the steel rods on his back. + +And then, in April, the Republic keeled over in its own blood and the +fascists decided to be generous to celebrate their victory. The Axis was +now openly boasting that it had run the Spanish show; the worst that +Hall could do would be to play into their hands by writing about how +tough fascism was on any man fool enough to oppose the New Order. They +were generous, they were fair. They gave him a practically new suit of +clothes, they returned his three hundred odd dollars, they even returned +his notebook with nearly all of its original notes. + +Hall went to Paris. He spent a week soaking in warm baths and eating and +avoiding the WP crowd. During the week he cabled a New York book +publisher he had met in Madrid in '36, when he had joined a group of +American intellectuals attending an anti-fascist congress. He offered to +turn out a book on his experiences as a correspondent and a prisoner in +Franco Spain. It was a week before he got an answer, but the answer came +with a draft of five hundred dollars. + +The swelling had gone down in his nose by then, but he still had to +breathe through his mouth. A doctor who'd looked at it wanted a hundred +bucks for operating, but it meant two weeks of doing nothing but getting +fixed up, and Hall hated to wait. "Later," he said, "later, when I +finish my book." + +He poured his notes and his guts into the book, and finished it in a +month. When he was done he borrowed some money from a friend in the +Paramount office and got a Clipper seat to New York. + +His publisher, Bird, liked the book and rushed it to press. He also gave +Hall another five hundred and sent him to his own doctor to have his +nose fixed up. + +It was a good book, perhaps good enough to justify Bird's gamble, only +it reached the critics three weeks after the Nazi panzer divisions were +ravaging Poland and the smart boys in Paris were wearing smarter +correspondents' uniforms and filing fulsome stories on the genius of +Gamelin and Weygand. "We'll have to face it, Matt," Bird said, "no one +but you and I give a damn about Spain right now. I'm taking back copies +left and right from the booksellers. No, the hell with the advances. The +war's far from over. You'll do another book for me, and we'll make it +all up." + +Through Bird, Hall got a job as a war correspondent for a Chicago paper. +They shipped him to London, where he stewed in his own juices for +months, and then to Cairo to join the fleet. Hall was assigned to the +_Revenger_ and, when the Nazis sank her, he spent some three days on a +raft with a handful of survivors. One of them died of his wounds on the +raft, and another went raving mad and slit his own throat with the top +of a ration tin. + +Hall filed a story on the experience when he was brought back to Cairo, +and Bird cabled "That's your new book." It was an easy book to write. He +took a room at Shepheard's and pounded it out in three weeks. The +British censors liked it as "a tribute to British grit" and arranged for +a captain attached to a military mission bound for Washington by plane +to deliver the manuscript personally to Bird. The story was still hot +when the script reached New York. Bird sold the serial rights to a big +national weekly that same day for thirty thousand dollars. A lecture +agency cabled offering a guarantee of a fantastic sum for a three-month +lecture tour. A book club chose _The Revenger_, the critics sang its +praises, and Bird bought himself a house in the country. + +Hall quit his job and made the lecture tour and wound up with a fat bank +account and a permanent appreciation of the value of a chance plop in +the ocean. For the first time in his life, he found himself with enough +money to do exactly what he wanted to do. The Army doctors had shown him +to the nearest door, but he had offers from magazines and syndicates to +return to the war zones, and the radio wanted him as a commentator. + +It was Bird who first learned of Hall's new plans. And Bird understood. +"The Spanish War was round one," Hall told him. "South America was one +of the stakes. The Falange had an organization in the Latin countries. +The Heinies used to brag about it to me in San Sebastian. I'm going to +South America to see it for myself. Maybe there's a book in it, maybe +there isn't. I can afford to find out." + +Cuba had been the first stop on this odyssey. There Hall had had some +tough sledding, met some Spanish Republicans who knew him from Madrid, +won the aid of a group of young Cuban officials and written two angry +and documented magazine pieces. + +From Havana, Hall had flown to Puerto Rico. + +Hall had stopped thinking. The reverie into which the lieutenant had +plunged him passed into a rapt consideration of the imperfect smoke +rings he was blowing toward the ceiling. + +Dickenson joined him. "Well?" he asked. "Is it San Hermano tomorrow?" + +"I'm afraid so, Dick." + +"I'm sorry to see you leave. We figured you'd stay for at least a month. +What's so urgent in San Hermano?" + +"That's what I mean to find out. All I know is what I read in the +papers." He handed the Governor two copies of the San Hermano +_Imparcial_ he had found on a library table in the reception room while +having a cocktail before dinner. They were the papers which had made him +call Harris at Panair. + +The first issue was three weeks old. It described the visit of an +American Good-Will Commission to San Hermano, and told how the mission +was received by Enrique Gamburdo, the Vice-President, rather than by +Anibal Tabio, the President. In an oblique manner, the story went on to +deny the "widespread rumor" that Tabio had deliberately insulted the +Americans by not receiving them personally. + +"I don't like the way they denied the rumor," Hall said. "I know that +the paper is _imparcial_ on the fascist side only." + +The other edition of _Imparcial_ was three days old. It was the latest +copy available. It carried as its lead story the news that since Tabio's +illness had taken a drastic turn for the worse, Gamburdo had prevailed +upon a great Spanish doctor, Varela Ansaldo, to fly from Philadelphia to +San Hermano in an attempt to save the President's life. + +"And?" the Governor asked. + +"I'm not sure. But it looks to me like a deliberate attempt to lay a +smelly egg in Tabio's nest. Anyway, I did a little checking with Harris. +I figured I'd be able to meet Ansaldo's plane, and I was right. The San +Hermano Clipper overnights in San Juan, you know. Ansaldo is sleeping at +the Escambrun tonight. Tomorrow we'll board the ship for San Hermano +together." + +"I still don't get it, Matt. Do you know this Ansaldo?" + +"No. But he's evidently been invited to San Hermano by Gamburdo. And I +found out a few things about Gamburdo in Havana," Hall said. "Some +top-ranking Falange chiefs in the Americas always spoke highly of him in +their letters. Especially the letters marked confidential." + +"There you go again!" + +"Don't. You know I'm not crazy." + +"But Matt, neither is Gamburdo crazy. He wouldn't dare do what you're +implying." + +"Maybe. But I'm not thinking of Gamburdo as much as I am of Tabio. I +like Anibal Tabio, like him a lot. I met him for the first time in +Geneva in '35, when he was Foreign Minister. Then I met him again in +'36, when he and Vayo and Litvinov were hammering away at the fat cats +backing Franco. He was a real guy, Dick. One of the few statesmen alive +who not only knew that the earth is round but also that the people on +this round earth like to eat and wear decent clothes and send their kids +to college. + +"I remember how in '37, after Halifax yawned all through his speech and +then led the rest of the delegates in voting against Vayo's proposals, +Tabio sat down with me in a little bar and ordered a light beer and told +me very quietly that this was his cue. 'I must go home,' he told me, +'and see that it doesn't happen to my country.' That's how he pulled up +his stakes and went back to San Hermano and ran for President." + +"He's good, Matt. I know that." + +"He's damn good. He's the best of the anti-fascist leaders on the +Continent right now, Dick. He deserves all the help he isn't getting +from us." + +The Governor put the paper down with a sigh. "I'll tell you a secret, +Matt," he said. "But it's really secret. You know that there's going to +be a Pan-American conference on foreign policy in Havana in five weeks. +Well, some of the smarter heads in Washington are getting worried. We're +sending a delegation to the conference to ask all the nations down here +to break with the Axis. And some of us are afraid that if Tabio +is--well, not able to pick the San Hermano delegation, his government +will remain neutral." + +Hall stood up and began pacing between the couch and the chair. He +pulled out a large white handkerchief and mopped the sweat on his face, +his neck, his quivering hands. "God damn them all to hell," he said, +"they're moving in on us in our own backyard and when you try to say a +word in Washington they spit in your eye and tell you Franco is a +neutral and a friend." + +Dickenson drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly and audibly. "What's it all +about, Matt?" he asked, softly. "Where does San Hermano come in?" + +"I don't know a mucking thing yet. All I know is that it stinks to high +heaven. Listen, Dick, I'm not crazy. You know that. In Washington they +act as if I'm crazy or worse when I try to tell them." Hall put his hand +to the twitching right side of his face as if to keep it still. His +outburst had completely dried his throat. He went to the sideboard, +threw some ice cubes into a giant glass, poured soda over the ice. + +The Governor watched him swallow the contents in huge gulps. "Better sit +down, Matt," he said. "You'll blow a valve." + +"I'm all right," he said. He put the glass down on the floor, ran the +handkerchief over his neck. "There's one thing I do know, and it's +killing me. I know the Falange is in this. It's all I have to know. I +remember reading a fascist paper in jail in San Sebastian. There was a +big map on the back page, a map showing Spain as the center of the +Spanish World. An artist had superimposed the five arrows of the Falange +over the face of Spain. The article under the map said that while one of +the arrows pointed to Madrid, two pointed to the Philippines and the +others pointed to Latin America. They weren't kidding, Dick. When the +Japs marched into Manila they decorated the Philippine Falange for the +fifth-column job the Falangistas performed for Hirohito. And there are +twenty Falangist cells in Latin America for every one cell they had in +Manila on December 6, 1941. + +"And why not, Dick? It's the Germans who've always run the Falange. +Today they run Spain. And they also run the Exterior Falange set-up. +Maybe Falangismo as a philosophy is phony as all hell, and maybe its +creed of Hispanidad, with all its blah about Latin America returning to +the Spanish Empire, is just as phony. Maybe it doesn't make sense to us +gringos. I'll grant that. But it is a nice Nazi horse on the dumb +Spanish aristocrats who do Hitler's dirty work in the Americas. In +German hands it's one of the dynamics of this war. I've seen it in +operation, and I know. It's the gimmick that makes rich Spaniards fuel +and hide submarines in the Caribbean--you know that for a fact yourself. +It's the new amalgam which makes 'em look to Holy Mother Spain as the +core of a new empire, it's ..." + +"But granting all this, Matt, why must you go to San Hermano?" + +Hall swallowed some soda. He put the glass back on the floor, grabbed +the San Hermano _Imparcial_ from the Governor's hands. Slowly, he +crushed the paper and held it in front of Dickenson's face. "Do you know +who publishes _El Imparcial_?" he asked. "I'll tell you. It's a fascist +named Fernandez. In San Sebastian, during the war, he strutted all over +town in a Falange officer's uniform browning his nose with all the +top-ranking lice, the Germans, the Italians, the Franco crowd. He was +there for months, making radio speeches and public appearances and +getting cramps in the right arm from holding it up in the stiff-arm +salute. I saw him a dozen times, if I saw him once." + +"José Fernandez? I met him at a conference in Rio. He seemed like a +pleasant enough chap," the Governor said. + +"They're all pleasant. They can afford to be. You never met Ribbentrop +and Otto Abetz, Dick. They were the most charming men in Europe before +the war. But listen, last week in Havana I looked at a collection of +pictures taken from the files of the chief of the Falange delegation for +the Americas. There was one picture of a banquet held by the Falange in +San Hermano late in 1936. It was a secret affair, only insiders and +leaders. And there, on the dais, was Licenciado Enrique Gamburdo, big as +life." + +"Gamburdo!" + +"Sure. It was a secret affair, all right. Not a word in the papers, and +everyone present sworn to secrecy by a Bishop who was among the honored +guests." Hall dried the sweat on his hands again. "But always at these +affairs there's a man with a camera. Usually he's a Gestapo Heinie. +Sometimes he's a Gestapo Spaniard or even a Gestapo Latin-American. A +picture, just one picture, has to be made. It goes to the German consul +or the Falange chief of the country and they have to forward it to the +Ibero-American Institute in Berlin. The pictures back up the reports, +you see, and, besides, when you have a picture of a deacon trucking with +a doxie in a bordello it's a good thing to threaten to show the deacon's +wife if the deacon decides to return to the paths of righteousness." + +"But are you sure, Matt?" + +"I'm a good reporter. My job is to remember unimportant things, and to +remember them well when they become important. If I'm wrong, I'll find +out for myself in San Hermano." + +The Governor accepted one of Hall's cigars. "God," he said, "I hope +you're wrong, Matt." + +Later, back in his hotel room, Hall stripped to his shorts, ran cold +water over his wrists and the back of his neck. He poured some Haitian +rum into a glass, drenched it with soda from the pink-and-green night +table. + +Outside, in the darkness, four boys were playing tag. Hall listened to +the whispered padding of their bare feet as they flew from cobblestones +to trolley tracks. He went to the wrought-iron balcony, stood there +watching the undersized kids chasing each other up and down the narrow +street. Two freighters rode at anchor in the harbor, their gray noses +pointing at the pink Customs House. A soldier lurched down the street, +barely missing the feet of an old _jíbaro_ sleeping in the doorway of a +dark store. + +Hall returned to the desk. He wrote a short note to a friend in a +government bureau in Havana--merely to say that he was leaving for San +Hermano and that for the time being could be reached in care of Pan +American Airways there--and a similar note to Bird. He decided to let +his other letters wait until he reached San Hermano. + +The kids who were playing tag disappeared. The only noise which broke +the silence of the night now was the soft pounding of the presses in the +newspaper plant up the street. Hall sealed his letters and started to +pack his bags. + +The four boys reappeared with a whoop. They carried freshly printed +magazines this time, and, as they ran down the street, first one then +another took up the mournful cry: "_Puerto Rico Ilustrado! +Il-us-traaa-dooohhh!_" They were no longer to be seen when Hall ran out +to the balcony to look. + +He took a cold shower, then lit one of his Havanas. The mosquito net +which completely covered his bed annoyed him. He put out the light in +order not to see the bars of the net frame. Silently, he railed against +the sugar planters and their kept politicos for leaving the island prey +to malaria. He had to remind himself that the net was his protection +against malaria before he could crawl under the frame, but even then he +climbed into bed with a cigar in his mouth. + +The cigar was his protection, his secret weapon, against the +claustrophobia the _mosquitero_ gave him. There were no cigars in +Franco's prisons, no cigars and no cool sheets and coiled spring +mattresses, no soft breezes floating in from a harbor as ancient as the +Conquistadores. + +He lay under the net, naked and uncovered, blowing smoke rings at the +cross bars above him. He thought of Anibal Tabio in Geneva, thin as a +reed, his slender hand pointing to the pile of German and Italian +documents del Vayo had brought to the League. He thought of Tabio and he +thought of his three years in Spain and, thinking, he got worked up all +over again. + +It was not easy to think of the months of being trapped like an animal +in a cage, of being pushed around by smirking men who had the guns, of +watching the metal inkstand in the hands of the German major the second +before it crashed into his own face. No, it was not easy, and the memory +of San Sebastian led to the scarlet memory of the afternoon on the +Malecon in Havana less than a month ago when Sanchez had pointed out to +him two leaders of the Falange at a café table and he started out to +bash their heads together right then and there. Luis and Felix had had +to grab him and wrestle him to the sidewalk, laughing and playing at +being just three jolly boys who'd had a drink too much instead of two +Spanish Republicans keeping a frenzied American from killing two men +they detested and would gladly have killed themselves. + +Hall sat up, shaking, covered with sweat. He crawled out of bed, stood +barefooted on the tiled floor. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness +came over him. He was lonely in his person, lonelier still in his +inability to make any of his own people understand the gnawing hates and +fears which had taken him first to Havana and then to San Juan and +now--_quién sabe_? And then, realizing with an amused start that he was +thinking in Spanish, he tore the net off the bed, threw the cigar away, +and went to sleep. + + + + +_Chapter two_ + + +Dr. Varela Ansaldo was traveling with his assistant, a young Dr. Marina, +an American nurse named Geraldine Olmstead, and a Dominican passport. +This much Hall was able to observe at the ground station, before the +passengers for San Hermano and way points boarded the Stratoliner. + +The Dominican passport interested Hall. He knew that the passports were +for sale at an average price of a thousand dollars. Refugees starved and +borrowed and sold their souls to scrape together a thousand dollars for +one of the precious passports. When you met a Spaniard with a new +Dominican passport, you seldom had to ask questions; you knew you were +meeting a man whose life was not worth a nickel in Spain. And yet, in +the day-old issue of _Time_ the Clipper had flown in from Miami, the +biography of Ansaldo carried no hint of the doctor's being in disfavor +with Franco. Nor did the biography mention the physician's Dominican +citizenship. + +Hall read the _Time_ biography again. _Scrupulously impartial during the +Spanish Civil War, Ansaldo took no sides, remaining at his post as a +healer under both nationalist and loyalist flags. With the end of war, +Ansaldo accepted a Chair offered by the Penn Medical Institute in +Philadelphia, assuming new position in October, 1939._ The story went on +to describe some of the new operations Ansaldo had since performed. + +Hall unbuckled his seat belt. He had a single seat on the left of the +plane, the third seat from the front. Ansaldo's nurse had the seat in +front of his. She sat across the aisle from Marina and Ansaldo, who +shared a double seat. Hall sat opposite a pink-cheeked Dutchman of sixty +who shared a seat with a very dark Brazilian. A State Department courier +had the seat in front of the nurse. The other passengers included the +wife of an American Army officer, some Panair officials, two Standard +Oil engineers, and some quiet Latin American government officials on +their way back from Washington. + +Most of the passengers, now that the plane had gained altitude, were +trying to sleep. The little Hollander was wide awake, virtuously and +happily wide awake with the morning heartiness of a man who has been +going to bed and rising early all of his life. He beamed at Hall. "I see +you and I are the only ones who had a good night's sleep, Mr. Hall." +Then, laughing, he explained that he had recognized Hall from the +picture on the jacket of his book before he had even heard his name +announced by the steward on boarding ship. His accent was slight, but +definite. + +"Yesterday," he said, gesturing at Hall's seat, "Miss Prescott--a +charming lady, by the way--and today another American writer. Ah, well, +the damn wheel turns and comes up twice with the same value. Oh, I +forgot. My name is Wilhelm Androtten." + +Hall extended his hand across the aisle, gripped the hand Androtten +offered him. It was a pudgy little hand, soft and white and pink. + +"Yes," Androtten sighed. "I have quite a hell of a story of my own to +tell about enemy actions. I too have been an actor in the drama. But of +course I'm not a writer. Ah no, Mr. Hall," he waved a stiff little index +finger back and forth in front of his glowing face, "I'm not going to +suggest that you write my story. To me it is important as hell. But to +the world? It is not as dramatic as the sinking of the _Revenger_. A +thousand times no!" + +The Hollander pulled an immense old-fashioned silver cigarette case from +the pocket of his brown-linen suit. "Have an American cigarette? Good. +Yes, mine is only the story of how the damn Japanese Army drove a poor +coffee planter off his estates and then out of Java. And that is all, +sir, except that as you may have guessed--I was the planter. Now I am, +so to speak, a real Flying Dutchman, flying everywhere to buy coffee +from the other planters and then flying everywhere to sell it again. But +I try to be jolly as hell and to bear my load like a Dutchman should, +Mr. Hall." + +"That _is_ a story, Mr. Androtten," Hall said. "A real one." The strong +light above the clouds rasped his sleep-hungry eyes. He put on his dark +glasses, leaned his head back against the padded roll of the reclining +chair. + +"Do you really think my story is worth while, Mr. Hall? I would be +honored as hell to tell you the whole story with all the damn facts, if +you desire. I ... Are you getting off at Caracas?" + +"No. I'm sorry. I go all the way through to San Hermano." + +"Good, Mr. Hall. I go to San Hermano myself. Do you know the Monte Azul +bean, sir? It's richer than the Java. A little Monte Azul, a little +Bogota, some choice Brazilians--and you have a roast that will delight +the rarest palates. Yes, San Hermano is my destination. San Hermano and +the damn Monte Azul bean." + +Hall gave up trying to stifle a series of yawns. "I'm sorry," he said. +"I guess I didn't get enough sleep after all." + +"Please sleep," Androtten said. "We'll have plenty of time to talk in +San Hermano." + +"Sure. Plenty of time." Hall opened the collar of his shirt, sank into a +light sleep almost at once. He slept for over an hour, waking when the +Standard Oil engineers in the rear seats laughed at a joke told by the +Army officer's wife. The steady drone of the engines, the continuing +sharpness of the light made remaining awake difficult. Hall closed his +eyes again but there was no sleep. + +Androtten and the Brazilian had found a common tongue, French, and in +the joy of this discovery had also discovered a common subject. The +Brazilian was holding forth on the exotic virtues of one rare coffee, +the huge diamond on his finger ring catching and distributing the light +as he gestured. Androtten was trying to describe the various blends of +Java. + +Hall thought of Ansaldo and Marina and the nurse. Marina was about +thirty, too dapper, too fastidious, his plaid sports jacket fitting too +snugly over his rounded hips. On boarding the plane, the nurse had +brushed against his arm, which he withdrew with a subconscious gesture +of revulsion. Hall watched him now, buffing his nails with a chamois +board. Ansaldo had also awakened, was reading one of the pile of medical +magazines he had carried into the plane. The nurse was a blank, so far. +All he could see of her was the soft roll of strawberry hair. She had a +few faint freckles on her nose and full lips and it was ten to one that +she was from the Midwest. But a blank. + +The older doctor, Ansaldo, was about fifty, and had a stiff correctness +that Hall had noticed immediately in the airport. He wore glasses whose +horn rims were of an exaggerated thickness. His iron-gray hair, cut +short and combed straight back, had an air of almost surgical neatness. +He had the long horse face of an El Greco Cardinal, and behaved even +toward his assistant and his nurse with a detached politeness. Marina's +obvious and fawning devotion to the older man seemed to bounce off +Ansaldo without effect. Hall put him down as an extremely cold fish, but +a cold fish who would bear watching for reasons Hall himself could not +quite define. + +When the plane stopped in Caracas for refueling, Ansaldo, carrying a +thick medical journal with his finger still marking his place, took a +slow walk in the shade, Marina following at his heels like a puppy. Hall +got out and lit a cigar and when he noticed the nurse looking at the +exhibit of rugs and dolls set up in a stand at the edge of the airfield +he walked to her side. "Indian-craft stuff," he said. "If you'd care to, +I'll be your interpreter." + +The girl took off her dark glasses, looked at Hall for a moment, and +then put them on again. "I can't see too well with these darn things," +she laughed. "Do you think I could get a small rug without giving up my +right arm?" + +"Your right arm is safe with me around, Madam. Perhaps you never heard +of me, Madam, but in these parts I'm known as Trader Hall. Matthew +Hall." + +"You're hired. My name is Jerry Olmstead." + +They sauntered over to the stand. The afternoon sun ignited the fires in +her hair. She was taller than most women, and though her white sharkskin +suit was well creased from travel, Hall could see that she had the kind +of full shapely figure which made poolroom loafers whistle and trusted +bank employees forget the percentages against embezzlers. Feature for +feature, Jerry Olmstead's was not the face that would have launched even +a hundred ships. Her forehead was too high, and it bulged a bit. Her +blue eyes were a shade too pale for the frank healthiness of her skin. +Her nose was straight and well shaped, but almost indelicately large. +When she smiled, she displayed two rows of glistening healthy teeth +which were anything but even and yet not uneven enough to be termed +crooked. + +Hall helped her select a small rug, agreed at once to the price asked by +the Indian woman at the stand, and then had a long discussion in Spanish +with the peddler about the state of affairs at the airport before giving +her the money. "You see," he said to Jerry, "unless you bargain with +these Indians, you're bound to get robbed." The rug cost Jerry something +like sixty cents in American money. + +"You'll be able to pick up some wonderful beaten-silver things in San +Hermano," Hall said. "I'd be glad to show you around when we get there. +In the meantime, can I get you a drink?" + +"I'd love one." + +The only drinks for sale in the canteen were cold ginger ale and +lemonade. They had the ginger ale, and Hall learned that this was the +girl's first trip out of the United States. "It's all so different!" she +said, and Hall thought he would grimace but then the girl smiled happily +and he watched the skin wrinkle faintly at the bridge of her nose and he +smiled with her. "You'll like San Hermano," he said. "And I'd like to +show it to you when we get there." + +"Did you spend much time there?" + +"Only a few days. I took a freighter back from Cairo two years ago and +it put in at San Hermano." + +"Say, what do you do, anyway?" Jerry asked. + +"Don't sound so surprised. I'm a newspaperman." + +"Were you a war correspondent?" + +Hall nodded. "I even wrote a book." + +Jerry looked into her glass. "I know it sounds terrible," she said, "but +I haven't read a book in years. Was yours about the war?" + +"Let's talk about it in San Hermano. Do I show you the town?" + +"It's a date." + +"That bell is for us," Hall said. "We'd better get back to the plane." + +They left the canteen. Ansaldo and Marina were still walking in a slow +circle. "Come on," Jerry said. "Meet my boss." + +She approached Ansaldo. "Dr. Ansaldo," she said, "I'd like you to meet +Mr. Matthew Hall. He's a newspaperman from the States. And this is Dr. +Marina. + +"Mr. Hall is showing me around San Hermano when we get there." + +"How nice," Ansaldo said, and from his tone Hall knew that he meant +nothing of the sort. + +"But now we must hurry," Ansaldo said. "The plane is about to depart." +He took Jerry's arm and they walked on ahead of Marina and Hall. + +"Señor Hall, if you are going to write about the doctor's forthcoming +operation," Marina said, "I would gladly help you. The doctor is the +greatest surgeon of our times, perhaps, who knows, of all times. He is +magnificent. In his hands, the scalpel is an instrument of divinity. It +is more, it is divinity itself. I must tell you the story of the +doctor's greatest operations, although all of them are great. I will +help you. You will write a great article about the great operation." + +"I am very grateful to you, doctor. I hope that in San Hermano you will +have enough time to give me your counsel. After you, doctor." Hall took +a last drag at his cigar as Marina climbed the plane ladder. + + * * * * * + +There was a mountain--the Monte Azul which produced the beans of +Androtten's rhapsodies--and a plateau in the clouds and below the +plateau lay the ocean and the city of San Hermano. The lights were going +on in the city when Flight Eighteen ended on the airport in the plateau, +for the city was five miles farther from the sinking sun of the moment. +On the plateau, the airport lights blended with the brown-orange shades +of dusk; in the city the lights cut through the classic blackness of +night. + +A smartly dressed colonel and a top-hatted functionary of the Foreign +Office were waiting with two black limousines for the Ansaldo party. The +man from the Foreign Office had cleared all the passport and customs +formalities. Jerry had just enough time to tell Hall that she and the +doctors were to stay at the Bolivar before the cars started down the +winding hill to San Hermano. + +Hall rode to town with the rest of the passengers in the sleek Panair +bus. He and Androtten were also bound for the Bolivar. + +Riding into the valley, the bus descended into the night. It was a night +made blacker by the war, as were the nights in San Juan and Havana and +New York. San Hermano was the capital of a nation still at peace, but +the maws of the war across the seas reached for the oil and coal of the +world, and San Hermano could not escape this world. Three lights in +every four on the Plaza de la Republica were out, for coal and oil +furnished the power for the city's electricity. Two years earlier, Hall +had asked Anibal Tabio why coal and oil had to turn the city's dynamos +when the nation abounded in thousands of mountain streams which could be +harnessed by men with slide rules and logarithm tables, and the gentle +President had answered him in a sentence. "Because, my dear Hall, San +Hermano has been in the twentieth century for barely a decade, while +your own nation has been in our century for forty years." And tonight, +looking at the ancient Plaza from the window of his room on the third +floor of the Bolivar, Hall remembered Tabio's words with disturbing +clarity. + +From the balcony of his hotel room, Hall could see both San Hermanos, +the Old City and the New. Everyone spoke of the two cities in these +terms--the geographers, the tourist guides, the inveterate _Hermanitos_ +themselves. + +The Old San Hermano had been founded by the Conquistadores in the +sixteenth century, a walled speck on the shores of an ocean, a fortress +and a thatched church, a handful of flimsy huts. In a century, the +thatched church became a proud, gloomy Cathedral; one of the walls was +knocked down, and in its place was the cobbled Plaza de Fernando e +Isabel. The Plaza was Spain in the New World; opening on to its cobbles +stood the huge Moorish stone palaces designed by architects brought over +from Seville, the palace of the Captains-General who served as colonial +governors, the fortified mint, the Cathedral, the home of the Governor's +elder brother, the Duke of La Runa. Enslaved Indians and later chained +Negroes from the African coasts had carried on their backs the square +stones Spanish masons cut and formed for the edifices of the Plaza, +first the Cathedral, next the Governor's Palace and the Mint. + +Then, in the days of Hidalgo, Bolivar, and San Martin, the ancient Plaza +of the Conquistadores became the Plaza de la Republica, and for a few +glorious hours the new nation was in tune with its century. But the +great Liberators of the times were to die in embittered exile, far from +the scenes of their brightest victories. For one swing of the pendulum +the liberated lands teetered on the dizzy heights of freedom, and then +the pendulum swung back and stopped swinging for a century. The land +remained in the hands of the Spanish nobles, and they won their war +against the Industrial Revolution, and all that remained of the hour of +triumph was the name the Liberators had given the old Plaza and a hollow +Republic controlled by the landowners. + +In ways more subtle, but no less real than the old ways, the Republic +became a colony again, except that the nation was no longer ruled by a +crown but by new and even more potent symbols: the sign of the pound, +the sign of the dollar, the sign of the franc. The new order brought a +new San Hermano, a new Western city built around the rims of the old +fortress seaport. It was a strange and often beautiful mélange of French +villas and British banks and American skyscrapers and German town +houses. + +The old Constitution of the Liberators gave way to a series of native +dictators who waxed rich as the servants of the foreign owners of the +metals and minerals discovered under the nation's soil, of the foreign +business men who never saw San Hermano but built vast abattoirs near the +wharves where skinny _Hermanitos_ earned a few pennies a day for +slaughtering and then loading endless herds of native cattle in the dark +holds of foreign ships. + +They were ruthless men, the dictators who sat in San Hermano as +pro-Consuls of the foreigners and the landowners, ruthless men who, for +their share of the profits of the foreigners, of the endless rivers of +pesetas the landowners sent to Spain, maintained armies of cutthroats to +put down any attempt at rebellion against the new existing order. + +The last of these dictators to sit in San Hermano was General Agusto +Segura. More than a decade had passed since Segura had died in bed and a +junta of professors and miners wrested the control of the nation from +Segura's henchmen. There had been little bloodshed when the Junta took +over; after thirty years, the Segura regime, or what was left of it, had +just collapsed of its own rottenness. + +Hall thought of Segura, and the state he had ruled, and then, again +thinking about Tabio while he stared into the shadows of the darkened +Plaza de la Republica, Hall remembered Tabio's quiet remark about his +country's having been in the twentieth century for barely a decade. A +slim decade, which began with a world in confusion and was now ending +with a world in flames. But if the country weathered these flames, it +would be because Tabio, instead of running for the Presidency after the +revolution which swept out the remnants of Segurista power, had chosen +to serve as Minister of Education for nearly ten years. Hall was willing +to stake his life on this, ready to bet that the phenomenal free +educational system Tabio had set up for children and adults would, in +the final analysis, be one of the nation's chief bulwarks against +fascism. + +He changed his clothes and went out for a walk through the crooked +streets of Old San Hermano before turning in. Many lights were burning +in the fourth floor of the Presidencia, the floor on which the President +had his apartment. Military guards were standing listlessly at the +entrances to the gilded building. + +Hall walked along the Plaza until he came to the Calle de Virtudes, +which led to a little café on the street opposite the rear entrance of +the Presidencia. It had no windows but giant shutters which were folded +against the wall when the café was open for business. The café itself +stood on a corner, the sidewalks on both sides of the place covered with +tables and chairs. Wooden lattice fences, painted a bright orange, +screened the tables from the pedestrian's section of the sidewalk. +Inside, near the bar itself, two boys with guitars were playing and +singing the tragi-comic peasant songs of the south. + +He took a sidewalk table, ordered a meat pie and a bottle of beer, and +then went to the small hotel next to the café to buy a sheet of paper, +an envelope, and an air-mail stamp. He asked for a telephone book, +looked up the names under Gomez, copied the address of one Juan Gomez, +and returned to his table. There he bought a newspaper from a boy +peddling the latest edition of the evening. The front page carried a +story about Ansaldo: the distinguished visiting medico was to spend the +next day conferring with local doctors who had been treating the +President. In one of the back pages, under Arrivals, there was a line +about the illustrious author and war correspondent Dr. M. Gall who +reached San Hermano by Clipper; Dr. Gall was the noted author of _The +Revenger_, even now being produced in Hollywood. + +The paper was put aside for the meat pie. When he was done with the +food, Hall pushed his plates away and spread his sheet of lined writing +paper on the table before him. He called for some ink, filled his +fountain pen, and wrote a letter in Spanish to a "Dear Pedro." + +It was a rambling, innocuous letter which started out with family gossip +about a forthcoming marriage of a cousin, the marriage prospects of the +writer's eligible daughter, the letter received from Cousin Hernando who +was happy on his new ranch and whose good wife was expecting another +child soon. Then the letter went on to say that "I suppose you have read +in the Havana papers that our President is ailing. Today there arrived +in our city the distinguished Spanish doctor Varela Ansaldo. He is to +treat the President. Perhaps I am very stupid, but is he not the surgeon +who operated so well on the throat of your dear Uncle Carlos?" The +letter then continued on for another page of family gossip and regards +and requests that Pedro embrace a whole list of dear cousins and aunts. +It was signed, simply, "Juanito." + +Hall read the letter twice, sealed it, and addressed the envelope to +Pedro de Aragon, Apartado 1724, La Habana, Cuba. Pedro de Aragon was a +myth. Mail at this box was picked up by Santiago Iglesias, an officer of +the Spanish Republican Army whom Hall had met again in Havana. Iglesias +did at one time have an uncle named Carlos; the uncle had died on the +Jarama front from a fascist bullet that tore through his throat and +killed him instantly. Hall had arranged to write to Iglesias under names +chosen from the phone books of different cities if the need arose. He +scribbled the name and address of Juan Gomez on the back of the +envelope, left some money on the table, and walked back to the Plaza. +There he dropped the letter in a mailbox and continued on his way to the +Bolivar. + +There was a new clerk on duty when Hall reached the hotel, a wiry man of +forty-odd whose yellow silk shirt clashed with both his black mohair +jacket and his long, lined face. Hall asked for the key to Room 306 in +Spanish. + +The clerk cleared his throat and answered in English. "There was +messages," he said, handing the key to Hall with a sheaf of slips. "And +also this." From under the counter he drew a sealed letter written on +heavy paper and bearing the neat blue imprint of the American Embassy at +San Hermano on the envelope. + +Hall frowned and tore open the envelope. + +"Señorita the Ambassador's daughter telephoned twice," the clerk said. + +"Thank you." + +"It's on this slip, Mr. Hall." + +"Thanks again." He read the few handwritten lines of the letter. It was +an invitation from the Ambassador's daughter, Margaret Skidmore, to +attend the Ambassador's party at the Embassy on the 5th. That was two +nights off. + +There was a message from Jerry Olmstead. She had phoned from her room to +leave word that she had retired for the evening but would meet him in +the dining room at ten for breakfast. Hall noticed that the clerk was +watching him intently as he read the girl's message, but when he started +to read the next slip the clerk interrupted him. + +"It's from Mr. Roger Fielding," he said. "I took the message myself. He +is a very nice person. An Englishman." + +On the slip the clerk had written, "Mr. Fielding is very sorry you were +not in because it is important. He will call you again." + +"My name is Fernando Souza," the clerk said, extending his hand. "I am +very happy to meet you." + +Hall put the papers down on the desk and shook hands with the clerk. +They had a meaningless chat about the rigors of wartime travel and the +dimout in peaceful San Hermano and Hall learned that the Englishman +Fielding was in the tall Lonja de Comercio building and very decent. "I +have been at this desk for many years and in this position one meets +many people," the clerk said, and he went on amiably chatting about what +one could see on different one-day tours from the city. + +"It is very sad about the President," Hall said, and then the clerk +reddened and he forgot to speak English. "The Educator must live," +Fernando Souza said. "If the Educator goes, the nation goes." + +"I know," Hall said. "I admire Don Anibal greatly." + +"_Momentico, Señor. El teléfono._" After nine, the night clerk had to +handle the switchboard at the Bolivar. + +It was Fielding again. Hall picked up the phone on the marble counter. +"Yes, Mr. Fielding," he said, "I'm sorry I missed your first call." + +"Not at all, old man. Not at all. Damned decent of you to answer my call +now, what with the hour and all that." The voice which came through +Hall's receiver was the raspy, crotchety, bluff voice of a movie +Britisher, the diction almost too good to be true. "I must say it was a +good surprise, a good surprise. The paper tonight, I mean, even if they +called you Dr. Gall. But what can they do if the H is silent in +Spanish?" + +"I've been called Gall before." + +"Of course you have, of course you have." The man at the other end of +the wire cleared his throat with a loud harumph. "What I'm calling +about, Mr. Hall, is--well, damn it all, what with the war and all that I +guess we have a right to keep a tired traveler from going to bed the +second his plane reaches the end of his road. I think it rather urgent +we have a bit of coffee and a bit of a chat tonight. Really, old man, I +think it is urgent." + +"At what time?" Hall asked. + +"I'm at home now," Fielding said. "I can get to Old San Hermano in an +hour. Souza can tell you how to get to my office. Nice chap, that Souza. +Straight as a die." + +"Good." + +"The office is about ten minutes from the Bolivar by cab, if Souza can +get you a cab. Suppose I ring you at the Bolivar when I reach the +office?" + +"That will be fine. See you soon." Hall put the phone down and turned to +Souza. "He said you are straight as a die," he said. + +"Mr. Fielding is a very decent Englishman," Souza said. He offered no +further information about Roger Fielding, and Hall decided against +asking any questions. + +"If you are meeting him at his office, I had better get you a cab," +Souza said, and then, sensing the hesitation in Hall's eyes, he quickly +added, "it would be better. Walking at night is dangerous, especially in +Old San Hermano, since the lights went out. There are many--accidents." + +"O.K.," Hall said. "Look, I'm going upstairs to catch a little sleep. +When Fielding calls back, get me that cab and send up a pot of coffee. +And it's been good meeting you, even if Fielding does say you are +straight as a die." + +Souza did not get the joke, but he knew that Hall was trying to joke and +he laughed. + +Hall went to his room, took off his shoes and his suit, and fell across +the bed. He dozed off wondering why he had agreed so readily to meet the +man with the tailor-made British diction. + +At ten-fifteen his phone rang. "Mr. Fielding called ten minutes ago. I +have your cab ready now. He is a very reliable driver." + +"Good. How about my coffee?" + +Souza laughed. "The only waiter on duty is a _cabrón_, Señor. Mr. +Fielding will have much better coffee for you, anyway." + +Hall chuckled as he washed the sleep out of his eyes with cold water and +combed his hair. The waiter is a _cabrón_! There was one for the book. +Hall made up a song while he dressed, a song about yes we have no coffee +today because the son of a gun is a dirty _cabrón_ so we have no coffee +today. + +Souza slammed his palm down on the bell twice when the elevator let Hall +into the lobby. "Pepito!" he shouted. + +The biggest cab driver Hall had ever seen outside of the United States +bounded into the lobby from the blackness of the San Hermano night. He +advanced toward the desk in seven-league strides, wiping his right hand +on the blouse of his pale-blue slack suit and taking off his white +chauffeur's cap with the other hand. He hovered over Hall like a mother +hen. + +"Pepito," Souza said, "this is Señor Hall." This he said in Spanish. In +English, he again told Hall that the man was a very reliable driver. + +"_Con mucho gusto_, Señor 'All. _Me llamo_ Delgado." Sheepishly, the +giant offered his hand to Hall. + +"I am much pleased," Hall said. "Shall we start now?" + +Pepito Delgado led Hall to a blue 1935 LaSalle parked in front of the +Bolivar. "She is my own machine after I make the last payment next +month," Delgado said. "I am glad you speak Spanish. It is the only +language I know." He drove Hall to the ten-story Comercio building in a +few minutes. + +When Hall tried to pay him, Delgado shook his head happily. "You'll pay +me later," he smiled. "I'll wait for you." + +"But I may be hours," Hall protested. + +Delgado called upon the Saints in a series of genially blasphemous +exhortations. "Mother of God," he said, "it is bad luck not to make a +round trip with the first American of the season. I'll wait and not +charge you more than two pesos for the whole trip." + +"I do not wish to rob you," Hall said. "Wait, and we shall make a fair +price later." + +He entered the Comercio building, but as the doors of the elevator +closed and he started on his way up to the seventh floor Hall knew that +Delgado was only playing the fool and was in fact no man's fool at all, +and it bothered him. The right side of his face twitched slightly as he +left the car and walked down to the bend in the hall leading to Room +719. + + + + +_Chapter three_ + + +The frosted glass door of Room 719 bore the words, "Roger Fielding Y +Cia." The anteroom was dark, but Hall could see the dim form of a man +sitting in a lighted inner room. He knocked on the glass without trying +the knob. In a moment, the light snapped on in the anteroom, and the man +from the inner office opened the hall door. + +"Mr. Hall?" he asked. "I'm Roger Fielding. Welcome to San Hermano. And +please come inside." + +Fielding fitted to the last detail the mental image Hall had conjured of +the man on the phone. Genial, peppery, he not only talked like a +Hollywood Englishman, he was a casting director's dream. Let the call go +out for a man to play a retired India colonel, a British Ambassador, the +Duke of Gretna Green, the popular professor of Chaldean Culture at +Oxford, the Dean of Canterbury or the Chief of Scotland Yard, and +Fielding was the man who could slip into the role without even changing +from street clothes to costume. Fielding was the man, complete to the +faintly grizzled face with the gaunt features, the dazzling plaid +jacket, the thick-walled Dunhill pipe with the well-caked bowl. + +He ushered Hall into the inner office, whose shades were all drawn to +the sills. There was a large mahogany desk at the window; against the +wall stood a long table bearing a row of glass coffee makers, a tray of +demi-tasse cups, and a series of earthen canisters. On the wall above +this table hung a large sepia-tinted photograph of London, taken about +1920. It faced a large print of a cottage and a brook in the Shakespeare +country. This engraving hung over a row of four filing cabinets with +steel locks. The walls were further decorated with framed certificates +of Fielding's membership in coffee associations of San Hermano, Rio and +New Orleans. + +"Sit down, sit down," Fielding urged, pulling a comfortable leather +chair to the side of his desk for Hall, and taking the swivel chair +behind the desk for himself. The highly polished desk was bare, except +for a calendar pad and a folded red-leather picture frame whose picture +faced Fielding. + +"I'm in coffee, you see." + +Hall glanced up at the certificates and the long table. "I see," he +said. + +"How was your trip? Not too tiring, I hope? That's the sad thing about +planes. Faster than ships, but rather confining." + +"It was not too bad," Hall said. "Besides, I stole an hour's cat nap at +the hotel while waiting for you to get to town." + +"Good for you," Fielding said. "I like a man who can steal an hour's +sleep when the spirit so moves him. May I make you some coffee to keep +you awake, though?" + +"If it's not too much trouble." + +The Englishman was already at his coffee table. He took the pipe out of +his mouth, pointed with the end of the curved stem at one of the +canisters. "I guess we'll mix you a little of that Monte Azul with some +of this light roast from the south," he said. "If that doesn't sit well, +I have two dozen other roasts you can try." + +Hall asked him how good a blend would result from the mixture of Monte +Azul, Bogota, and the various Brazilian growths Androtten had described +to the Brazilian on the plane. + +"Ah," Fielding smiled, "so you know coffees, too?" + +"Not at all. My education started on the plane." Hall described +Androtten, and told Fielding of the Dutchman's experiences in Java and +his theories of the perfect blend. + +Fielding set some coffee and water into one of the vacuum makers, put a +match to the alcohol burner. "Androtten," he mumbled. "I don't remember +meeting him before. However, if it's the Monte Azul bean he's after, +I'll venture he'll be in to see us before the week is over. Let me see, +Androtten ..." He picked up his phone, asked for a local number. +"Hello," he said into the phone. "Sorry to call so late, old man. About +a chap named Androtten. A Hollander. Blitzed out of Java by the Nippos. +Of course. In coffee. Came in tonight on the Clipper to buy Monte Azul +for blending. Know him? I see. Well, thanks, anyway." + +The Englishman put the phone away. "One of my countrymen," he explained. +"He's not in Monte Azul and I'm not in southern crops. We help one +another in a case like this. Incidentally, he never heard of your +Androtten." He chatted aimlessly about the coffee business until the +coffee in the vacuum maker was ready, then he poured it into a small jug +and brought the jug and two demi-tasse cups to the desk. "Sugar?" he +asked. + +Hall had lost his taste for sugar in San Sebastian. "I have it black and +pure," he said. + +"That's the only way to enjoy real coffee, Mr. Hall." Fielding took a +key from his pocket and went to the first filing cabinet. "However," he +said, "it wasn't to talk about coffee that you were generous enough to +come here tonight. Not to talk about coffee." He pulled a brown-paper +portfolio out of the file and returned with it to the desk. He undid the +strings that bound the portfolio, removed a manila folder. + +"I think you had better pull your chair around and sit next to me here," +Fielding said. "We have to look over some things in this file." + +Hall moved both the chair and the jug of hot coffee. From his new +position, he could see that the leather folding frame on the desk +contained two photos of what was evidently one person. One photo showed +a young man of twenty-odd standing near a stone wall in what was +undoubtedly England; the other photo was the young man as a laughing +child in a pony cart. + +"I lost my boy," Fielding mumbled, absently. He tapped the ashes from +his pipe out into an ash tray on the window sill, filled it again with +new tobacco from a worn ostrich pouch. Hall could see a thin, rheumy +film cover the Englishman's eyes. + +"The war?" Hall asked, softly, but if Fielding heard him he gave no +indication that he had. + +Fielding held a lighted match over the filled bowl of his pipe, started +it burning with deep, sucking draughts. "Ah, your book," he said, when +the pipe was burning. "You are a man of courage, Hall. You showed real +guts. The kind of guts our Nellie Chamberlain didn't have when England +needed them most." + +Hall poured fresh coffee into both his and Fielding's cups. "Thank you," +he said. "I tried to do it justice." He told him what the British censor +in Cairo had said when he saw the manuscript. + +The grizzled Englishman took the pipe out of his mouth, looked at Hall +with amazement and disgust. "British grit, my foot!" He bellowed. "The +_Revenger_ was doomed the day Nellie Chamberlain decided to back Franco. +I'm talking about your other book, Hall, _Behind Franco's Lines_. +Any fool can get a battleship shot out from under him, but it takes a +man ..." Suddenly he stopped, because both Hall and he were looking at +the photos of the young man who was once a laughing boy in a +canary-colored pony cart. + +He opened the folder. A photostat of a multi-paged typewritten report +lay on top of the neat pile of papers in the folder. "Now then, Hall, to +get to the point. When I read that you had arrived in San Hermano, well, +frankly, Hall, I thought it was the answer to my prayers. I know I'm a +garrulous old man, but that comes from talking into the prevailing winds +for so long that I just can't help myself." + +"I know what you mean," Hall said. "Only I never thought of it in that +way. I thought of it in terms of talking to a blank wall." + +"Be it as it may, Hall, I don't think I'll be talking at a blank wall +when I speak to you. As I said, there is a point to this meeting, and +the point is brief. Hall, the Falange is in San Hermano, and it is up to +much trouble." + +"The Falange!" + +"Oh, I know what you are thinking. Tabio made it illegal and it had to +disband and all that. But Tabio's government never threw the whole +Falange crowd into jail, where they belong, and they are still getting +their orders from the Spanish Embassy." + +Hall passed a hand in front of his smarting eyes. "Did you say they're +up to trouble?" he asked. + +"I said just that, Hall. Did you ever hear of the Cross and the Sword? +Sounds like the name of a ha'penny thriller. Have you seen one of these +since you arrived in San Hermano?" He handed Hall a gold lapel emblem; +it was a sword with a blazing hilt, the letters ATN engraved across the +cross piece of the hilt. + +"The ATN stands for Acción Tradicionalista Nacional, but no one calls +them that any more than they call the Nazis by their formal name. You +know, National German Socialist something or other. It's a bad business, +Hall, a very bad business. The Cross and Sword, alias the Falange +Española." + +"Are they very strong?" + +"They don't parade around the streets in their blue shirts as they did +until Tabio clamped down in '40, and they don't pack the Cathedral in +their Falange uniforms any more to hold special masses for the rotten +soul of that young snot old Primo de Rivera whelped. The Cross and the +Sword is not like that. But go to the San Hermano Country Club or a +meeting of the Lonja de Comercio or to a fashionable party in the +country and every tailored jacket you see will have a Cross and a Sword +pinned to the lapel. + +"Go to a little country village the day after the local school teacher +was murdered on some lonely dark road. The _campesinos_ stand around +muttering 'The Cross and the Sword is guilty,' and the next night the +home of some local Spanish landowner goes up in smoke. Then it's only a +matter of hours before the Cross and Sword members in San Hermano are +raising hell because a fellow Cross and Sword member had his house +burned down. They tell everyone that's what happens when you have a Red +regime which forces a gentleman to sell his land to the government and +then sells the land back to the peasants who have to borrow the money +from the government to pay for the land." + +Hall turned the Cross and Sword emblem over in his fingers. "That's what +happened in Spain," he said. "It happened in just that way." + +"Of course it did, Hall. Of course it did. Now look here. Look at this." +From the bottom of the pile of documents in the folder, Fielding +extracted a map of the nation's coastline. + +"Here," he said, "is the coast. Now note these islands. I have numbered +some of them in red ink. Now take this island, Number Three. Looks like +an ink blot, doesn't it, now? Not much of a place for anything. Just a +bunch of volcanic caves and some quite useless land. Good for grazing a +few head of sheep, but not too good even for that. Belongs to a chap +named Segundo Vardenio. Been in his family for years, over three hundred +years. Own the island, own thousands of acres on the shore facing the +bloody island. I know the whole family. More Spanish than the Duke of +Alba, that family. + +"Well, sir, they were all in the Falange. Segundo Vardenio was one of +the big leaders of the Falange in the country. Used to wear his blue +shirt and his boots and give his damned stiff-arm salute all over the +place. And what do you think goes on at his island, Hall? I'll tell you. +Oil and submarines, submarines and oil. The Vardenio lands on the shore +are in sugar. They have a narrow-gauge Diesel railway of their own on +the estates. Understand, Hall, a _Diesel railway_? The locomotives and +the submarines burn the same type of oil." + +"German subs?" + +"Hun subs and only Hun subs, Hall. Look here. Look at this report. I +sent it to the chief of Naval Intelligence at our Embassy. On the 29th +of September, 1940, a Hun sub anchored off Vardenio's island. A small +launch belonging to the Vardenio family towed the sub into the largest +of the sea caves on the island. The sub took on a load of Diesel oil, +fresh fruit, meat, cigars, razor blades and a sealed portfolio. I don't +know what was in that portfolio. Three days later, the British freighter +_Mandalay_, carrying beef and copper from San Hermano, was torpedoed and +sunk by a Nazi submarine at approximately this point." Fielding held a +ruler between an X mark in the ocean and the island. + +He continued to read the report aloud, running a bony finger under the +words as he read them, pausing now and then to sneer at his detractors +in the British Embassy or to chuckle at some particular sarcasm written +into the report. + +The facts in the report were set forth in great detail. They dealt with +other submarine anchorages, with the role of the Cross and the Sword on +the waterfront, and with the beginnings of an organized ring of +sabotage. The report ended with the account of the events which followed +the visit of the _Ciudad de Sevilla_, a Spanish liner, to the port of +San Hermano. + +"Look here, Hall," Fielding said. "Listen to this. On the twentieth of +September, '41, the _Ciudad de Sevilla_ docked in San Hermano at +four-ten in the afternoon. At approximately five o'clock, the radio +operator of the Spanish liner, one Eduardo Jimenez, left the ship and +proceeded to a bar on the Paseo de Flores, the bar known as La +Perrichola. There he met with two unidentified men, one of whom was +later identified as a provincial leader of the Cross and the Sword. The +three men went to a brothel near the waterfront, and at exactly ten +o'clock left the brothel and got into a waiting sedan which, by a +roundabout route, took them to Calle Galleano 4857, a quiet villa in the +west suburb. + +"The villa belongs to Jorge Davila, a lawyer for some of the great +landowning families of the south. Davila's record as one of the leaders +of the now illegal Falange and an organizer of the Cross and the Sword +has been covered in my previous report, dated July 7th of this year." +Fielding poured some fresh coffee for Hall and himself. "Tomorrow or the +next day I can show you the report in question, Hall. But to proceed +with this report. + +"At Davila's home, a group of Cross and Sword leaders were waiting for +the three men in the sedan. They had a long meeting, lasting over five +hours. Then eight men, including the Spanish ship's officer, left the +house and entered two fast cars of American make. The cars proceeded to +the town of Alcala, in the sugar lands some seventy miles from San +Hermano. + +"In the morning, there was no trace of the eight men in Alcala. That +night, the sugar fields of the English planter, Basil Greenleaf, were +set on fire by incendiary flames started in over twenty different parts +of his acreage at the same time. Two of Greenleaf's employees who were +attempting to fight the blaze in the east field were killed by rifle +fire. One of them lived long enough to stagger to the road where he told +his story to the Greenleaf foreman, a man named Esteban Anesi. + +"I must call your attention, sir, to the fact that Greenleaf was the +only planter in the Alcala region who had contracted to sell his crop to +Great Britain, and that the fire took place exactly two weeks before the +harvest time. + +"Eduardo Jimenez was next seen in San Hermano the day after the fire, +when he appeared in the Municipal Police Headquarters in what was +evidently a state of extreme intoxication. He complained that on leaving +his ship on the twentieth, he had gone to a bar for a drink, met up with +two pimps, and had then been taken to a brothel where, after two days of +drunken revelry, he had been cleaned out of his life's savings and then +been carried out to sleep it off in an alley off the Calle Mercedes. +Having made his complaint, he passed out. A police doctor examined him, +recommended a good night's sleep." + +Fielding held his finger under the word _sleep_. "Hah," he roared. "Damn +clever, the bastards! Now then, where was my place? Oh, yes, good +night's sleep. Yes." + +"In the morning, Jimenez awoke, vomited, and started to yell for the +jailer. He wanted to know what he was doing in a cell, and when shown +his complaint, he expressed innocent amazement. He could not recall a +thing. The warden gave him a hearty breakfast and sent him on his way. +Jimenez joined his ship, which sailed for Spain that afternoon with a +cargo of beef." + +The case of Eduardo Jimenez was the last in the report. Fielding put the +copy aside and leaned back in his chair. "Was this worth your while, +Hall?" he asked. + +Hall grinned. "You have the necessary proof?" + +"Absolutely. To the last word, old man. To the last word." + +"May I have a copy of your report?" + +"Of course. I hope you will get better results, though." + +"May I ask an impertinent question, sir?" + +"Be as impertinent as you wish. I'm sixty-four years old, Hall, and if I +can't put up with Yank impertinence in this late stage, I deserve no +sympathy." + +"Well then, and don't answer if you think me too brash, Fielding, it's +simply ..." + +"Hold on!" Fielding held up a restraining hand. "Let me write your +question out on this slip of paper and after you ask it, I'll show you +what I've written." He scribbled a few words on the paper, covered them +with his left hand. + +"Are you British Intelligence?" Hall asked him. + +Fielding handed Hall the slip of paper. On it was written: _Q. Fielding, +old man, are you a British agent? A. No, my fine impertinent friend. +Believe it or not, I am not a British agent._ + +He was not smiling when he put a lighted match to the slip of paper and +watched it burn to ashes in the bronze tray. "As a matter of fact," he +said, soberly, "I am not in very good repute at the British Embassy. I +organized a dinner of the more sensible people in the British colony +here in '38 and, after I'd made a blistering speech against Munich and +non-intervention in Spain we all signed a row of a cable to Nellie +Chamberlain. They have me down as a sort of an eccentric and a Red. +Perhaps I am eccentric, but I'm no more a Red than poor Professor Tabio +or your own Mr. Roosevelt." + +"I've been called both things before myself." + +"I'll bet you have, Hall. I'll bet you have. Let's have another jug of +coffee and look through some more reports. Can you stay awake for an +hour or so?" + +"I can stay up all night." + +"Well, maybe you can. But I'm not as young as I used to be. We'll finish +the reports in this folder and call it a night. But first--the coffee." + +The aroma from the jug warmed Hall's senses. In the cell at San +Sebastian he would awake at night dreaming that he was smelling the +sweet vapors of a fresh pot of coffee boiling away near his pallet. +"God," he said, "I must tell you about what this smell means to me some +day." + +"There's nothing like it," Fielding agreed. "Now let me see, here's a +photostat of a letter from the Embassy acknowledging the receipt of the +report I just read, and here ... Ah...." He started to turn the next +letter over, but Hall, reading the letter-head, laid a hand on the +sheet. + +"May I?" he asked. + +Fielding handed him the letter. It was on the stationery of the +International Brigade Association in London, dated January, 1938. + +"The action on the Jarama front ... bitter ... your son Sergeant Harold +Fielding leading squad of volunteer sappers ... missing in action ... +thorough check on records of hospitals and field stations on that +front ... no record of Sergeant Fielding ... we therefore regret ... must +be presumed dead...." + +The father of Sergeant Fielding held the picture of the boy in front of +Hall. "This photograph," he said, heavily. "It was taken a year before +he went to Spain. You didn't, by any chance, happen to know the lad, did +you, Hall? He was my only child. Completing work on his Master's in +biochemistry at Cambridge when the Spanish show started. You didn't +happen to know him, eh, Hall?" + +Hall studied the photograph. + +"He fought with the British Battalion," Fielding offered. + +"I was with them in the fighting for Sierra Pedigrosa," Hall said. +"There was Pete Kerrigan, and a boy named Patterson I knew pretty well. +And--but that was after the Jarama fighting." + +"The boy is not alive," Fielding said. "I checked with the International +Red Cross after the war, and he was not taken prisoner by the fascists. +I just wanted to find someone who could tell me--who could tell me how +my boy died." + +Hall returned the red-leather frame. "I wish from the bottom of my heart +I could help you. But I just can't. I'm afraid I never did meet the +boy." + +Roger Fielding read the letter from London for perhaps the thousandth +time, sighed, and placed it face down on top of the pile to the left of +the letters and reports in the folder. "Ah, well," he said. "Now for the +living. Now here's a report I made three weeks ago. Some day those young +stuffed shirts in the Embassy will have to read my reports seriously, +Hall. Perhaps this is the report that will do it." + +The second report bore the heading: "Neutrality or Belligerence: +Gamburdo or Tabio." + +Hall started. "What's this?" he asked. + +"Let's look it over, old man." Fielding cleared his throat and began to +read aloud. + +"It is no secret, or it should be no secret to our vigilant intelligence +services, that President Anibal Tabio is a warm friend of the cause for +which the United Nations are fighting. It is no secret that Tabio, +before being stricken with his present tragic illness, was planning to +go before the Havana Conference himself to lead the continental campaign +to declare war on the Axis powers. + +"However, the views of Vice-President Gamburdo, who now has assumed the +control of the government, are less well known. Gamburdo's views, +however, are not among the best kept secrets of this war." Fielding +chuckled, waved his pipe in the direction of the Presidencia, and added +the comment, "I should say not! They are far from secret. + +"Gamburdo's ties to the Cross and the Sword are very discreet. I have +reason to believe that Gamburdo believes his link with the ATN is not +known by anyone except a few chosen fascist leaders." + +Fielding looked up at Hall. "Oho," he laughed. "That must have been hard +to swallow. They don't like to call the Cross-and-Sword bandits +'fascists.' Oh, no. Not the Embassy. They've got them tabbed as +'conservatives' opposed to the extremes of the Red Tabio regime. The +fools! + +"Well, now, to continue. Ah--chosen fascist leaders. Oh, yes. But twice +within the past two weeks, for three hours on the twelfth and for a full +day on the fourteenth, Gamburdo was at the ranch of his brother Salvador +in Bocas del Sur conferring with Cross and Sword leaders Jorge Davila, +Segundo Vardenio, Carlos Antonio Montes, and José Ignacio del Llano. The +second meeting was also attended by Ramos, the Spanish Consul General in +San Hermano." + +"Ramos," Hall commented. "I know something about him. Two years ago +Batista gave him twelve hours to get the hell out of Cuba before the +diplomatic courtesies were forgotten and a cot reserved for Ramos in the +concentration camp for Axis nationals on the Isle of Pines." + +"He did come to San Hermano from Havana," Fielding said. "So I'm not so +crazy after all." + +"You're not crazy at all." + +"Hello!" Fielding exclaimed. "If you know that Ramos was kicked out, +then the Embassy crowd must know it too. Now I begin to see why +Commander New has invited me to have dinner at the Embassy tomorrow." He +took a deep breath, straightened his tie with elaborate mock ceremony. +"Mr. Hall," he said, speaking like an announcer at a royal court, "I +have the pleasure of informing you that Roger Fielding, Esquire, is +about to be released from the insane asylum to which His Majesty's +Ambassador consigned him in September, 1938." + +Hall laughed and helped himself to another pipeful of Fielding's +tobacco. "Let's finish this report," he said. "I can't tell you how +important it is to me." + +"Here you are, old man." Fielding handed the report to Hall. "I was +reading them aloud to keep you from falling asleep. But I think you're +wide awake now." + +Hall smiled warmly at the old man and read the rest of the report. It +was very brief. It described how Gamburdo had shifted nearly the entire +customs staff at San Hermano to other ports or to desk jobs on land, and +replaced them with new customs men who were in many cases proven members +of the Falange or the ATN or both. This move, the report stated, opened +the gates to Axis arsonists assigned to cross the seas on Spanish +liners. + +"Cross and Sword members," the report concluded, "are in certain +exclusive bars openly boasting that when Tabio passes away, Gamburdo +will declare the nation a neutral in this war. His family has been +sending copper, hides, beef, coffee, and sugar only to Spanish firms +since 1940. It is an open secret in the Lonja de Comercio that these +shipments do not remain in Spain but are immediately trans-shipped to +Germany. None of the Spanish firms with which the Gamburdo family does +business were in existence before July 18, 1936, the day the Spanish War +started. They are all known in shipping and export circles as German +enterprises. Gamburdo's brother has twice been heard to boast, while in +his cups, that the Nazis are protecting his vast holdings in France. + +"The Cross and Sword members in San Hermano business circles speak +highly of Gamburdo and to a man they assert that if Tabio dies, Gamburdo +will impose a foreign policy which in the name of neutrality will bring +prosperity to the landowners and exporters. It will also, of course, +bring vitally needed war supplies from this country to the Axis powers; +a fact they don't even bother to deny." + +Hall was puzzled by the report's lack of information on Gamburdo's link +to the Falange during the Spanish War. He remembered that picture of +Gamburdo at the Falange dinner held in San Hermano in 1936, the picture +he had seen in the files of the secret police in Havana. "How much do +you have on Gamburdo?" he asked. + +"Gamburdo?" Fielding yawned twice, stretched his arms. "Not as much as I +would like to have, Hall." + +"Oh." Hall told him about the picture. + +"I'm not surprised," Fielding said. "But it's really news to me. What do +you know that I should know?" + +"Nothing much, I'm afraid. How about this doctor who arrived on my +plane, Varela Ansaldo?" + +"He's never been in San Hermano before." + +"Who sent for him?" + +"I don't know. _El Imparcial_ has been giving Gamburdo the credit." + +"What do you think of that?" + +"I don't know, Hall. I think they might be trying to give Gamburdo +credit for something he doesn't deserve. _El Imparcial_ is very much +pro-Gamburdo, you know." + +"Don't I know it! I used to see Fernandez in his Falange uniform in San +Sebastian." + +"He's no good." + +"Do you think his paper can be right about Ansaldo? I mean about his +being brought to San Hermano by Gamburdo." + +"Possibly I can find out." + +"What do you think, Fielding? What's your hunch?" + +"I have none, old man. But I can see that you have, and I can see what +it is. You think _El Imparcial_ might for once be telling the truth." + +"Not the whole truth. I saw _El Imparcial_, too. It also said that +Varela Ansaldo was brought to San Hermano to _cure_ Tabio." + +Fielding cocked his head, looked at Hall out of one eye. "And you think +Ansaldo was brought in to kill Professor Tabio?" + +"I don't know. I just don't know." + +"But you mean to find out?" + +"_Quién sabe?_" + +"I'll help you. I'll give you all the help I can." + +"But you think I'm nuts?" + +The Englishman hesitated for a long while. "Ah ... Frankly, old +man--well, damn it all, you could be wrong. But I'd never say you +were--_nuts_ I believe is the word you used." + +"Thanks." + +"Well, sir, it's been a busy day." Fielding put the letters back in the +folder, then shoved the folder into the portfolio and tied the strings. +"Unless I hear a motion to the contrary, I shall make a move to adjourn. +Ah, the delegate from North America bows. The Ayes have it. Session is +adjourned." + +He rose from the desk, put the portfolio back in the filing cabinet, +closed the drawer and tested the lock. "Suppose we meet again after I +have my dinner with Commander New at the Embassy tomorrow night. He's +our new Intelligence man. Understand he took quite a beating from the +Hun at Dunkirk." + +"Swell. Same place?" + +"I don't know yet, old man. Suppose I give you a ring." The Englishman +suddenly lapsed into a lisping, Castillian Spanish. "Señor Hall? Eh, +Señor Hall? This is Father Arupe. Bless you, my son. Would you care to +come to confession tonight?" + +"Then it will be Father Arupe on the phone?" + +"Yes, Señor. If I ask you to confession, it means this office in an +hour. If I suggest you attend mass in the morning, drive out to my +house. I'll write the address for you." + +"Good." + +"Oh, just another word about tonight's reports. If you could help me +bring the facts about the waterfront to your government, I think it +would be most beneficial. Most beneficial, old man." + +"I'll do my best." + +"I know I can count on you. Knew it before I ever laid eyes on you, +Hall. One of my associates can keep us both posted on the waterfront. +Name's Harrington. Grand chap, Harrington. Straight as a die, and +intelligent." + +Hall poured a cup full of cold coffee and swallowed it in a gulp. "God, +that's good coffee," he said. + +"How are you going back to the Bolivar?" + +"I've got a car waiting downstairs. The driver insisted upon waiting." + +"El Gran Pepe?" + +"Yeah. I guess it is Big Joe." He described his driver. "And Souza says +he is very reliable." + +"Oh, he is, old man. He is. You know, since they turned the bloody +lights down, it's worth your life to cross the streets at night. Awful +lot of traffic accidents and all that, you know. Nothing like a reliable +driver." + +"How about you, Fielding?" + +"Oh, I'll phone for my own reliable driver. Or better yet, tell Pepe to +come back for me, will you, old man?" + +Hall rubbed the right side of his face. "Why don't you ride back with +me, and then continue on out to your house?" + +"No. It would be better if you left here alone." + +"But how about you?" + +"There's no danger, old man. No danger. Besides ..." Fielding reached +into his jacket pocket, took out a small black automatic. "She's loaded, +and I can shoot in the dark, if need be. My Betsy is all I need." + +"This is silly," Hall protested. + +"Go on, now, old man. No one is going to break in to the office at this +hour of the night. I'm in no danger at all." + +"If you say so." Hall got up. "Don't see me to the door. I know my way." + +The old man put his arm around Hall's shoulder. "We English," he said, +"we're an undemonstrative tribe. Take pride in our cold hearts. But +underneath the ice some of us have hearts. I'm glad to know you, Hall. +And I'm glad we had this little chat. Good night, and sleep well. You're +all in." + +"Good night, Fielding. And thanks. You're swell." + +Hall left the office, rode the elevator to the main floor. Outside, the +reliable driver was asleep at the wheel, his right hand under the white +chauffeur's cap which rested on his lap. Hall stood near the open +window, smiling sardonically at Big Pepe. O.K., pal, he thought, we'll +find out about you right now. He cleared his throat, suddenly barked, +"Arriba España!" + +Big Pepe awoke with a startled growl. The hand under the cap swung up +toward the window. It was clenched around a large nickeled revolver. + +"It's me, Pepe," Hall laughed. "Hall." + +The driver groaned, shoved the pistol into his trouser-pocket. Then he +also laughed. "Get in," he said. "Get in and thank your stars you're +still alive." + +Hall joined him in the front seat. + +"Arriba España," Pepe muttered, starting the car. "That is no joke in +the heart of any Delgado from the Asturias. That is an abomination." + +"You're an Asturiano?" + +"Look at me, _compañero_. Do I have the face of a Gallego? Do I have the +head of a Catalan? Do I have the eyes of a Madrileño or the soul of a +_puta_?" + +"You fought in the war against the fascists?" + +"Mother of God, he's asking me if I fought! Always until eternity they +will ask, Delgado, did you fight? And what will I say?" + +"Watch out!" Hall screamed. "You'll hit that pole!" He grabbed for the +wheel. Big Pepe's steel arm stopped him. + +"_De nada_," the driver laughed. "Didn't Fernando tell you I am a +reliable driver?" The car missed the pole by inches, whirled around a +corner on two wheels, and then rolled casually down the Avenida de la +Liberacion. Another mad turn, and they were at the Bolivar. + +"The Englishman, Fielding," Hall said. "He wants you to pick him up at +the office and take him home." + +"_Bueno._" Big Pepe put the car in gear. + +"How much do I owe you?" Hall shouted. + +"_Mañana, compañero, mañana._" Big Pepe had to stick his head out of the +window and look back, while the car moved ahead, to answer Hall. One +more _mañana_, the American thought, and the reliable driver would drive +his car through a wall. He watched the car turn the corner on two +wheels. + +Souza was still on duty. He handed Hall the key to his room. "You look +very tired, Señor Hall," he said. "I hope you sleep well." + +"Thank you. Good night, _amigo_." When he got to his room, he phoned +down to the desk. + +"I forgot," he said. "But if that _cabrón_ of a waiter is still on duty, +could you send up a bottle of mineral water with the elevator operator?" + +"Of course. The operator is no _cabrón_." + +"Thanks. And by the way, didn't I meet you the last time I was in San +Hermano?" + +"No, Señor. But if you will pardon me for presuming, I feel in a sense +as if we are old friends, in a sense." + +"Old friends?" + +"Yes, Señor. You see, I have read your book." + +"My book?" + +"_Sí, su libro. Buenas noches, compañero._" + +This time there was no confusion in Hall's mind. He knew which book +Fernando Souza meant. He went to sleep feeling less lonely than he had +in a long time. + + + + +_Chapter four_ + + +The alarm in the pigskin traveling clock Bird had given Hall as a +going-away gift went on at eight. Hall shut it off, glanced at the +radium dial, and got out of bed. On the roof tops of the houses in old +San Hermano roosters were crowing. Outside, trolley bells clanged a +block away from the Bolivar. Hall took the half-emptied bottle of +carbonated water into the bathroom, poured it over his toothbrush, +sprinkled the wet brush with powder, and scrubbed his teeth. The charged +water filled his mouth with a vigorous foam. He rinsed his mouth with +the rest of the soda, bathed, shaved and dressed. + +There was nothing in his box at the desk. He handed the day clerk the +key and walked out to the street. At a little hole-in-the-wall stand on +Virtudes Street he bought a glass of mouth-puckering tamarind juice. A +few steps down the narrow street there was a newsstand. Hall bought two +morning papers, found a café where he had a cup of coffee with hot milk +and a toasted roll. He remained at his table in the soft morning sun, +reading the papers and smoking a cigar, until nearly ten o'clock. + +According to both papers, Ansaldo and Marina were to make a preliminary +examination of Tabio, and would then spend the rest of the day +consulting with San Hermano physicians who were attending the President. +There was no hint of what was actually wrong with the President, simply +a repetition of the old statement that Tabio's condition was still +grave. + +Jerry was on time for their breakfast appointment. She was wearing a +bright yellow suit of very thin cloth. "Hello," she said. "Still want to +be a tourist guide?" + +"More than ever." He caught himself wishing that this could be just an +ordinary date with a girl. + +"What's wrong?" she asked. + +"Why?" + +"You're scowling." + +"Sorry. My mind must have wandered. I'd never scowl at you." + +She smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. "I thought for a moment that I'd +pulled a boner. The suit isn't too loud, is it?" + +It was his turn to smile. "God, no," he laughed. "It's perfect. Very +hungry? Good. We're eating right here in the hotel." + +They took a table near a potted orange tree. + +"How do you say ham and eggs in Spanish?" she asked. + +"_Jamón y huevos._ Want some?" + +"Uh huh. But I want to order them myself." + +"O.K. Order some for me, too." Hall hissed for the waiter. + +"What's the idea of razzing the guy?" + +"Relax, that's the way you call a waiter." + +Jerry smiled at the waiter when he reached their table. With a childish +directness, she pointed first at Hall and then to herself. "_Jamón y +huevos_," she said. + +"That is all the Spanish the señorita speaks," Hall explained. "I think +we will have toast and coffee, too." + +"Well, well," the waiter said in accented English. "The lady speaks +good, no?" + +"No," Jerry laughed. + +"Well, well," the waiter said, "today is very nice and sunny. Very +nice." He walked into the kitchen. + +"I have a perfect itinerary," Hall said. "Old San Hermano first; that's +the historic colonial part of the city. Then, at noon, we take the +funicular railway to the top of the world for lunch. And after +that--well, well, well, as the waiter said." + +They walked about San Hermano all morning. Hall showed her through the +old fortress of the Duke of La Runa, which the government had restored +after Segura was overthrown, told her about the early colonial history +of the city. They sat on the old sea wall for a few minutes, while Hall +pointed out the Moorish and Spanish details of the stone houses along +the sea drive above the wharves. The youngest of the houses was a +century old; the tile friezes along their bellies had all been imported +from Spain in sailing ships. Jerry watched the sun do magic tricks of +blue and purple on the surface of the houses. They wandered through the +old market places, deserted that day, but colored by the little stalls +along the sidewalks. Hall bought a large spray of gardenias for the girl +from an itinerant vendor. + +"Where are those beaten-silver things you told me about?" she asked. + +"Later," he said. "There's plenty of time for that." + +"Where do we go now?" Jerry asked. "My feet are killing me." + +"From now on we ride." He found a taxi parked near the Cathedral, and +they rode to the funicular railway terminal at the base of Monte Azul. +He told her how the railway was built by Segura, as they rode. "But it +was when the Tabio junta threw the Seguristas out that the damned cable +cars meant anything to the people of the country themselves. You see, +Jerry, Segura gave the concession on top of the mountain to one of his +thugs. The new regime opened it up to the little guys. And wait till you +see what they did to the grounds." + +They shared the cable car with an old water colorist, and two other +young couples. "My God," Jerry exclaimed, when she saw the route the +cars followed, "it's like climbing hand over hand up a sheer cliff!" + +"Don't worry. It's perfectly safe. In a way, though, I'm sorry this is +such a clear day. On a cloudy day, the tracks just vanish into the soup +up there, and you feel that you are being towed into the clouds." + +The cars climbed for five miles, creaking, whining, grunting, but +steadily pushing on toward the peak. From the opened windows, Jerry +could see the Moorish villas at the base of the mountain, then their +red-tiled roofs, then the miles of scraggly wild orange trees. The +sweet, heavy odors of their blossoms filled the car. + +"Oh, look," she said, "the town is getting smaller. And the sea is +growing bluer." + +"Wait until we get off," he smiled. "Then you'll really see something." + +The old artist took out a sketch pad, studied Jerry's excited face, and +made some quick strokes with a charcoal stick. Hall winked at the old +man. "_Hola, viejo. Qué pasa?_" + +"_La mujer es muy bonita._" + +"_Muchas gracias_, Señor. _Es verdad._" + +"What are you saying to him?" Jerry asked. + +"He said you are very beautiful and I said that's the Lord's gospel +truth. He's sketching you, I think." + +"Can we buy it if it's good?" + +"I'll speak to him later. Up there." + +The car stopped at the terminal on the man-made plateau about a thousand +feet from the actual tip of Monte Azul. A wooden rail ran along the edge +of the plateau for about a quarter of a mile. Within the rail was the +funicular terminal, a souvenir stand, a tiny post office, and a large +open-air restaurant. + +"Let's eat," Hall said. "You get hungry as a horse up there." + +They took a table with an enameled orange top near the rail. Large +barbecue pits hugged the mountain side of the restaurant, and under a +shed roof three cooks presided over a row of steaming pots. From their +table, they could see the mile-deep belt of mountain flowers which had +been planted in the days of the dictators and expanded by the democrats. +There were flowers of every shape and color, but orange was the color +which spoke most frequently in the cultivated beds. Below the flowers, +the mountainside seemed to be daubed with various shades of green and +brown. "But usually," Hall said, "the mountain is blue. Almost as blue +as the sea." + +Jerry looked down at the sea. "I've never seen such a deep blue," she +said. + +"I know. This is the bluest water in the world." He hissed for a waiter. +"I'm going to order a hell of a meal, young lady. A side of barbecued +beef and some corn cakes the like of which you never tasted and--just +trust my judgment." + +"Can we get drinks here?" + +"They have a white wine that beats anything in France." + +The food was good and the wine was potent. When they were done eating, +Jerry wanted more wine. "No more wine," Hall smiled. "Nibble on this +cheese, and while you're nibbling I'm going to order a punch I've just +composed in honor of this day. Let's call it Punch _Para Las Mujeres +Bonitas_." + +"Whatever that means," Jerry said, dreamily. + +"Oh, it's wonderful. Black rum and passion-flower juice and tamarinda +and wild cherry juice and--just wait. I'll be right back." He walked +across the plateau to the outdoor bar and had a long discussion with the +attendants. + +Jerry was staring into the sea when he returned. "You know?" she sighed. + +"What?" + +"Nothing. I was just thinking that I've been looking at the sea and not +thinking at all." + +"Cigarette?" + +"Uh huh. Thanks for taking me up here. It reminds me of something nice, +but I can't think of what." + +"I know," Hall said. "The minute you get here for the first time you +feel as if you've known this place all your life." + +The waiter brought a pitcher of scarlet punch and two tall glasses to +the table. Hall paid the check, and added a package of American +cigarettes to his tip. + +He filled the two glasses, tried a sip from his before handing one glass +to the girl. "Let's see how this strikes you," he smiled. + +"It's delicious!" + +"Finish it and then try walking," Hall said, dryly. + +"We'll try walking later." They finished the punch in the pitcher, and +then Jerry looked at her face in a pocket mirror. + +"Oh, Mr. Hall," she sighed. "It ate away what was left of my lipstick +and I think it gave me a red nose and I suppose I should powder and +paint but I won't." + +"Madam," he said, "you are under the influence." + +"I may be high, sir, but I'm not drunk." + +Hall got up and took her arm. "Shame on you, nurse," he said. "There's +still a thousand sights to see up here." + +"Lead on," she commanded. "We'll see who's potted." + +Hall pointed to the edge of the restaurant. There was a mountain path at +that end, a graveled path leading into a park of streams and cypresses. +They followed this path until the forest closed in around them, and they +were alone. + +"My feet," Jerry said. "These shoes were not meant for serious mountain +climbing." + +"My lady." Hall spread his brown gabardine jacket in the moss bank +adjacent to a small stream. She took off her shoes and stretched out on +the jacket, her hands clasped under her head. + +"You know," she said, "if I weren't so full of food I'd take my +stockings off and dip my feet in the creek. I just haven't the strength +to move." + +Hall lit a cigarette, put it in the girl's mouth. "If you ever dipped +one of your dainty gringo toes in this burbling frigidaire," he said, +"they'd hear your screams twelve miles out at sea." + +Jerry sat up and hummed the tune of "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf." +She took off her stockings, started to edge down toward the stream. +"Here, help me up." She extended a hand to Hall, who pulled her to her +feet. "I'm going wading." + +There was no scream when Jerry stepped into the water. Her breath just +stopped. She yanked her foot out of the stream as if it were a blazing +inferno, hopped around on the dry foot with tears in her eyes, and then +lay down on the jacket. + +"Well, anyway," she said, when she could catch her breath, "I didn't +scream." + +"No. You were brave." He took out a large handkerchief, started to rub +the foot which had been in the water. + +"I never thought I'd wind up here when I left New York," she said. + +"When do you go to work?" + +"Tomorrow, I guess. The President is a pretty sick patient." + +"Does Ansaldo think he can pull him through?" + +"He didn't say." + +"Did he find out what's the matter with Tabio?" + +"Not yet. That's what he's doing today." + +Hall wanted to ask her further questions about Ansaldo, but he was +afraid to betray his interest too openly. "Let's cut it out," he +laughed. "This is a party, and we're talking shop." + +The girl sighed in contentment. "Oh, that's nice," she murmured. "I +don't care what we talk about, as long as we stay here." + +"Like it here?" + +"Right now, I wish I could stay here forever." She had her hands clasped +under her head, was talking to the tips of the cypresses as well as to +Hall. + +"Why don't you?" + +"It's like Shangri-La," she said. "We should both be two centuries old. +How old are you, Hall?" + +"Thirty-six." + +"I'm twenty-eight. Honest. Not twenty-one. Twenty-eight. In two years +I'll be over the borderline. Then I'll be an old lady. But right now I'm +not going to lie about my age." + +"Right now I don't think you could tell a lie. Not even a white lie." + +"No fair, Hall. First you get me drunk--only I'm not high any more--then +you take me to Shangri-La. Can I call you Matthew? Or is it Matty or +Matt the women in your life call you?" + +"My friends call me Matt." + +"My friends! There's no Mrs. Matt?" + +"No. Never has been." + +"I had a husband, once. Only I divorced him and became a nurse." + +"That when you left Ohio? Or was it Indiana?" + +Jerry turned her eyes from the cypresses and looked at Hall, who sat at +her side, his face over hers. "Ohio," she said. "How did you know?" + +Hall bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She neither resisted +nor returned his kiss. "You sweet dope," he said. "I'm a Buckeye myself. +Cleveland." + +"I'm from Columbus." + +"Pleased to know you, Miss Columbus. Did you know you have green eyes +and there are little gold stars in each eye?" + +"Nope." + +"Nope. Sweet dope. No one ever told you." + +"He calls me names!" Jerry sat up and put her arms around Hall's neck. +"He calls me names." She put her slightly opened mouth against his lips +and pulled him closer, and together they sank to the ground. They lay +locked in the one kiss, the girl's full breasts pressing against Hall's +chest. + +"Don't," she whispered, "please. Ah, don't. Ah, Matt. Darling." + +He found her lips again. They were trembling, and he could feel the +tremors which started in the pit of her stomach and rose to her +shoulders. "Please, Matt," she broke from his grip and turned her face +to the ground. "Darling," she said, biting then kissing his hand. He put +his arm around her and kissed the back of her neck. She shuddered +deliciously. "Let's get up," she said. + +"We're alone here," he said. + +She smiled and kissed his hand. "I'm getting up," she said. "Let me sit +up, Matt." + +"Sure," he said. He sat up with her. She ran her hand lightly over his +face, brushing the scars, the flatness of his nose. + +"Gorilla," she said, and she kissed him softly on the mouth. "You tore +off one of my buttons, you ape." + +"Hello, Miss Columbus," he said, speaking with a Spanish accent. "It is +a very nice day today. Very sunny." + +"Yes," she said. + +"Still want to stay here forever?" + +"Uh huh. Do I look too messy?" + +"No. Your hair could stand some combing." + +"Will you get me some more of that punch?" + +When she had combed her hair, they stood up and he took her hand and +they walked back along the graveled path. + +"Can we phone to town from here?" she asked. "Doctor wanted me to check +in at about five." + +"Going to work?" + +"Don't know yet." + +They had their punch. The light danced in Jerry's hair, gave it the same +orange tint which dominated the flower beds. "I forgot to tell you," +Hall said. "You're beautiful." + +Jerry swirled the scarlet drops on the bottom of her glass. "You don't +know a thing about me," she said. + +"What should I know?" + +"Nothing. But can I tell you, anyway? I want to, Matt." + +"I want to know." + +Jerry sighed. "I told you I was married before, didn't I? It didn't +take." + +"I'm sorry." + +"Don't be. I'm not really from Columbus. That is, my home town is nearer +Columbus than to any other city, but it's just a hick village in the +sticks." She told her story in very few words. High school, and then +three years at the State University, and then marriage to a small-town +high-school principal some years older than herself. After five years of +small-town married life, Jerry came into a small inheritance, left the +schoolmaster, and went back to get her degree. "I wanted to study +medicine," she said, "but I didn't have enough money, so I took up +nursing instead. The idea was to earn enough as a nurse to go back to +medical school." + +"What happened?" + +"New York happened. I couldn't take hospital regimentation, and some of +the doctors were so anxious to sleep with me that they got me some snap +jobs. You know, sitting up with rich lushes and hanging onto the girdles +of deserted dowagers who wanted to jump out of windows and handing the +right scalpel to society surgeons while they carved out a million-dollar +gut." + +"It must have paid well." + +"Too well." + +"And so you became a glamour girl." + +"That's a pretty cruel way to put it, Matt. I'm not really a dope, you +know." + +"I know." + +"I guess I just stopped thinking because I was afraid to think." + +"Where does Ansaldo fit into the picture?" + +"I came with him because I admire his skill as a doctor. I can learn +things by working with him. He's fantastically good, Matt." + +"How long do you know him?" + +"Not long. He came to New York about six months ago to operate on a +drunk who'd been my patient for months. The patient had fallen down a +flight of stairs on my day off. Ansaldo invited me to be one of the +nurses when he operated on the patient's spine. Are you interested in +operations?" + +"A little. Why?" + +"It was amazing. I thought I had seen some good surgeons at work. But +Ansaldo is more than good, Matt. He's great. After that first operation, +I was his nurse for all of his New York operations. And naturally, I +jumped at the chance to come along. I'm a perfectionist, Matt. Some day, +some day soon I hope, I'm going to go back to medical school. I've been +saving every spare penny I could. And what I'm learning from Ansaldo +couldn't be taught in any school." + +"You amaze me," he said, honestly. It was hard to doubt her. He prodded +her for details of Ansaldo's skill. She answered him earnestly, and with +increased enthusiasm. + +"But wait," she protested, finally. "I don't see why I should be telling +all about myself. I haven't talked like this to any man for years." + +"I haven't listened like this for just as long," he laughed. + +"But it's not good, I know," she said, her voice abruptly breaking. +There were tears in her eyes, and she turned away. "I've gone and made a +fool of myself." + +"Why?" + +"I know," she said. "You probably have a wife and nine kids in New York. +I bet you carry their pictures in your wallet." + +"Do I?" Hall handed his wallet to Jerry. "Look for yourself. Take out +every picture." + +There were three photos in all. The first was of Bird, his wife and +their baby. "My publisher," he explained. + +There was a sepia photo of Hall pointing the lens of a camera at a bomb +crater in Madrid. "London?" Jerry asked. + +"Yeah," he said. "London." + +The remaining photo showed Hall talking to an aged couple on a road +packed with refugees. "France?" Jerry asked. + +Hall shook his head. "No. Belgium." Again he lied. The picture had been +taken in Spain. + +"Don't hurt me, Matt," the girl said. She was dry-eyed now, but +saddened. "Don't hurt me later." + +"I won't hurt you," he said. He wondered at that moment if he would be +able to avoid hurting her. + +"Are you really alone?" + +"Alone?" He did not laugh. "God! I'm the loneliest sonofabitch in the +whole world." + +The girl smiled again. "I have half a mind to believe you," she said. +"Shall we get started back?" + +"O.K. It's getting late. Have dinner with me?" + +"I don't know, yet. Would you call the hotel and ask if there are any +messages for me?" + +"There's a phone in the souvenir stand." + +The girl bought a batch of picture sets while Hall was on the phone. "Do +we eat?" she asked when he came out of the booth. + +"No. They want you in the Marti Memorial Lab at the University at +seven." + +"Shucks." + +"I phoned for a driver to meet us at the bottom in twenty minutes. We +still have time for a drive around the nicer parts of New San Hermano." + +They went to the terminal to wait for their car. The ticket agent +glanced at Jerry and then he reached under his counter and brought up a +large envelope. "Señor," he said, "the painter left this for the lady." +It was the sketch of Jerry, wide-eyed and happy as the car climbed Monte +Azul. In the lower right-hand corner was an inscription Hall translated +for her. "To a charming visitor--a memento of her visit to our free +city. Horacio." + +"It was sweet of the old man," Jerry said. "Tell the guy to thank him +for me, will you?" + +"I already did. But this is fantastic. An original Horacio water color +is worth a baby fortune. This sketch is valuable, Jerry." + +"Didn't you recognize him?" + +"Never saw him before in my life." + +Big Pepe was waiting for them with his LaSalle when they reached the +bottom of Monte Azul. "How good are you with tourists?" Hall asked. "I +want to show the señorita New San Hermano." + +"I can drive you with my eyes closed," Pepe said. + +Hall laughed. "Keep your eyes open. And your four wheels on the +pavement," he said. "Or I'll kill you with your own gun." + +"I have no fears of you," Pepe said. "Get in." + +Hall held onto Jerry's hand as he described the sights that rolled by +their window. Big Pepe handled the car like a model tourists' chauffeur. +It rolled along smoothly, not too quickly, and when Hall tapped him on +the shoulder he would stop, the motor running softly while Hall made his +explanations to Jerry. + +At six, Hall and Jerry agreed to have one last drink before parting for +the night. "Let's ask the driver, too," he suggested. "He's a nice guy." + +"Sure. So are you." + +"Pepe, how about joining us for a drink at that bar near the Libro del +Mundo?" + +Pepe turned around and grinned at them. "With many thanks," he said. "I +will join you." + +"If we don't all join our ancestors first. Watch the road, you Asturian +murderer!" + +"I take it," Jerry laughed, "you were telling him to keep his eyes on +the wheel." + +"You're learning the language, _muchachita_." + +They found an empty table on the sidewalk. Hall and Jerry had Scotch and +sodas. Big Pepe ordered coffee. He was very happy to be with them. He +beamed continuously at the girl, and to Hall he swore that never had he +seen a more magnificent woman. "Of course," he purred, "she could stand +more meat, but for a gringo, she is most magnificent." + +"He says you're a sight for sore eyes," Hall translated. + +"Then tell him to look at my face." + +"The woman thanks you," Hall said. + +Jerry pointed to the bar. "There's the little Dutchman," she said. + +Androtten was standing alone at the bar, a wine glass in his hand. + +"I'll call him over. He's a lonesome bastard too." + +The Dutchman was delighted to see Hall. "This is indeed a damn +surprise," he said. "Join you at the table? Happy as hell to join you, +Mr. Hall. Ah, the nurse of the great doctor. Tell me, nurse, do you +think the doctor could cure my rheumatism?" This, he made clear by his +gesture of holding his side in mock agony and groaning, was meant to be +a joke. + +Hall translated the joke for Pepe. + +The driver nodded. "I understood most of it," he admitted. "One doesn't +drive American tourists for a century and learn nothing." + +"Aha," Hall said. "Pepe knows a few words of English, it develops." + +Jerry turned to the driver, smiled sweetly at him. "Tell me," she said, +"did you ever have your eyes scratched out?" + +Pepe grinned, shrugged his huge shoulders. "Did the señorita say I have +nice eyes?" he asked Hall. + +"No, Pepe. She said your eyes can bring you trouble." + +The Asturiano closed his eyes and drew his finger across his throat, +making the appropriate sounds. "I understand perfectly," he said. + +"Let's sit down one of these days," Androtten said to Hall. "I am +willing as hell to give you the damn story of what the Japanese did to +me in Java, if you are still damn willing to listen." + +"Oh, I am. Anxious as hell, Mr. Androtten." He explained to Big Pepe +what had happened to the little man. Pepe's face instantly reflected his +deep sorrow. + +"I hate to break up this nice party," Jerry said, "but I have to go to +work." + +"Can we take you back to the Bolivar, Mr. Androtten?" + +"Not just yet. I have a damn appointment here at seven." + +Hall put some money on the table and followed Jerry to the car. "I +forgot to tell you," he said. "There'll be a government car waiting to +pick you up at ten to seven." + +"The poor man," Pepe sighed. "The cruel Japanese!" + +"It's been a wonderful day, Matt." + +"When do we repeat it?" + +"Can't tell. I'll leave a message for you tonight when I get back." + +Hall ate alone after Jerry went to the laboratory, and then wandered +around the dark streets of the waterfront, thinking how he could +organize his work. That was the damned job, always. Planning your moves. +Deciding exactly what it is you're after and then organizing a method of +getting it. The letter to Santiago. That was a good start. With luck, +there would be an answer in a week. But was a week too far away? How +sick was Tabio, and could he hold out for another week? And anyway, was +Ansaldo a fascist? + +The face of Varela Ansaldo would not leave Hall's mind. Maybe Fielding +could find out something, anything. At this moment, Fielding was +probably eating a little crow with his dinner at the British Embassy. +But would they tell Fielding anything? Did they know anything? And who +the hell was Fielding and how in hell did he get the dope in his +reports? _No, my fine impertinent friend, I am not a British agent._ He +was the father of Sergeant Harold Fielding who hopped out of the wicker +pony cart and picked up one of those thin rifles and died at Jarama. + +Santiago's answer. There was the best bet. If the boys in Havana had no +dope, at least they would tell him who to contact in San Hermano, and it +was a safe bet that when Pedro de Aragon (or would it be a love letter +from Maria de Aragon?) wrote, the letter would lead him to someone who +would know Souza and Pepe Delgado. They were O.K., but just a little +cautious, and this business of squiring Ansaldo's nurse would not set +too well with them unless Ansaldo was not Gamburdo's man at all. + +Hall was turning a corner when he first noticed the little man walking +in the shadows of the opposite sidewalk. A little man in a black suit +and a dirty stiff straw hat. Hall slowed his steps, waited for the man +in the straw hat to walk closer to the yellowed street light. The man +slowed down, too. Hall kept walking. He headed for an avenue, found a +cab, told the driver to take him to La Perrichola. He looked around to +see the little man get into the other cab at the stand. + +"I changed my mind," Hall told the driver. "Take me to the Ritz +instead." + +He walked slowly into the lobby of the Ritz. It was one of the more +modern hotels in New San Hermano. He found a phone booth and called +Souza. "Where's Pepe?" he asked. + +"Right outside. Do you need him?" + +"Very much. Tell him to pick me up near the back entrance of the Ritz. +I'm too drunk to trust a strange driver." + +Souza laughed. "You Americans," he said. "Pepe will be there in five +minutes." + +Hall went to the bar, had a short brandy. The little man was sitting +behind a potted palm near the street doorway, his face buried in a +magazine. Hall looked at his watch and walked to the elevator. "Sixth +floor," he said. + +He walked through the sixth-floor hall, took the back stairs to the +fourth floor, and then looked out of the window at the landing. Big +Pepe's LaSalle was parked near the servants' door. Hall listened for the +sound of footsteps on the stairs above him. Quietly, he walked to the +basement, nodded at a waiter relaxing on a bench near the door, and +walked slowly to the LaSalle. + +"_Qué pasa?_" + +"Trouble. Drive a few blocks down and then come back slowly toward the +front of the hotel." + +"Sit with me," Pepe said. He tapped the pistol in his pocket. + +"No." Hall got down on the floor of the back part of the car. "And take +your white hat off." + +The car shot down three streets, then Pepe turned the corner, rode a +block, and started to crawl along the street on which the main entrance +of the Ritz opened. "Souza said you were in trouble," Pepe said. "He +says you are not a _borracho_." + +"I was followed. Watch for a little man in a black suit and a stiff +straw hat. Park a block from the entrance to the Ritz and keep your +motor running." + +"_Claro._" + +"I think he tried to sell me perfume this afternoon when I was walking +with that nurse." + +"She needs no perfume," Pepe said. + +"She is not my woman," Hall said. + +"Did you see that other woman who came with the doctor?" Big Pepe +snorted violently. "I hate _maricones_," he said. + +"I hate them too, Pepe. Did you know that Franco is also a homosexual?" + +"They are all _maricones_. Hitler, Franco. They are all the same." + +"_Putas y maricones_," Hall said. "_La Nueva España!_" + +Big Pepe cleared his throat and spat out of the window. "Arriba España." +Hall could feel the low, toneless laugh in the Asturian's throat. + +"I think I see your dog," Pepe said. He described him for Hall. "He acts +as if he lost something." + +"Me." + +"Falangista?" + +"I don't know. Ever seen him before?" + +"Who knows? _Mira!_" + +"I can't look. What's he doing?" + +"Hiring a car." + +"Follow him. But ..." + +"_Mira, chico_, that I can do with my eyes closed. And he won't know me +for the offal on the streets." + +"Don't lose him." + +"I'd sooner lose my _cojones_." He started the car, slowly. "I am +magnificent at this," he said. + +"Good." + +"During the war I did this all the time." + +"When he stops, watch where he goes but don't stop yourself. Keep going +after he stops." + +"Don't worry," Pepe said. "I am not new at this." + +"Very good." + +"That girl with the nice hair, _compañero_. Why don't you take her into +your bed some night? I think she would be very good there." + +"Forget the girl." + +"That will be very hard." + +"Where are we?" + +"Still following the little dog. We're moving toward the Plaza." + +"Pepe. The Englishman's son. Did you know him?" + +"He was very young. I only saw him once. He was very brave, _compañero_. +The Centro Asturiano sent flowers to his father when the boy was killed. +He died for the Republic, you know." Pepe slowed the car. + +"What's the matter?" + +"He's stopping. We're on the Calle de Virtudes. He's going into a café. +I'll keep going." + +The car covered another block. Pepe turned the corner and stopped. "You +can sit up now," he said. + +Hall saw where he was. "Which bar did he go to?" he asked. + +"El Siglo. There's another café next door. You can sit behind a hedge at +a table there and watch El Siglo. I have done it many times. I'll park +the car across the street and watch for you." + +"Do you think we can do this alone?" + +"Why not?" + +"What do we have to do?" + +"Who knows? It is the little dog's next move." + +"But could you get some friends now?" + +"Yes. How many?" + +"A few. I'll keep an eye on El Siglo." + +"All right," Pepe said. "But we shouldn't lose the little dog." + +"That is a chance we must take. If we lose him tonight, we will follow +him tomorrow. He will be in my footsteps again." + +"That is true," Big Pepe said. "I will be back soon." He drove off down +the back street. + +Like El Siglo, the café where Hall found a table near a boxed hedge on +the sidewalk faced the entrance to the apartments of the Presidencia. +The lights were on again in the fourth floor. Hall wondered if the +doctors were poking poor Tabio at that moment. + +He ordered a pot of coffee and sat back to watch the entrance to El +Siglo. A newsboy sold him a late paper, but Hall gave up trying to read +it after a few minutes. He bought a box of wax matches and some cigars, +turning his back to El Siglo when the tip of his first match flared into +flame. + +Less than ten minutes after Hall started his vigil, the little man in +the straw hat walked out of El Siglo and sat down behind the wheel of a +Renault parked at the curb. He sat alone in the car, his face turned +toward the Presidencia. Hall looked nervously up the street for a sign +of Big Pepe. He jotted the license number of the Renault down on the +margin of his newspaper. + +There was still no sign of Big Pepe. + +The man in the Renault pressed the squeaky rubber horn twice. Another +man walked quickly out of El Siglo and got into the back seat of the +Renault. Hall squirmed in his chair and looked vainly for Big Pepe. The +passenger was Wilhelm Androtten. + +Hall watched the Renault start to move up the Plaza. It rode around the +entire Plaza, and, as it started to pass the cafés again, Hall saw that +it was following a black limousine which had just left the Presidencia +after picking up two passengers. + +The black limousine was doing about thirty, picking its way out +carefully in the half darkness of the old city. As it passed directly in +front of Hall's table, one of the people sitting in the back seat lit a +cigarette. In the light of the match, Hall could see that it was Varela +Ansaldo. + +He had to wait another ten minutes for Big Pepe, who returned with two +young men. "We lost him, Pepe." + +"_Hijo de puta!_ I told you." + +"Relax. I know who he works for. We can find them on our own terms now. +I saw them." + +"Who?" + +Hall looked at the two young men sharing the front seat with Pepe. +"Introduce me to your friends," he said. + +Big Pepe grinned. "That is your right," he said. "This is my nephew +Miguelito, and this is Juan Antonio Martinez. They're school teachers." +The last he said with almost boastful pride. + +The teachers were both slim lads in their early twenties. Hall shook +their hands and got into the back of the car. "Let's drive out to the +beach and talk," he said. + +"No," Miguelito said. "It would not be wise. There are too many +strangers there." + +His colleague grunted. "Your pistol, Miguelito," he said. "Take it out +of your pocket. It is digging a new hole in my arse." + +"They talk that way all the time," Pepe said, tolerantly. "But they are +very educated." + +"I am sorry if I talk like a worker," Juan Antonio said to Pepe. "My +father was only a miner. I apologize, Your Eminence." + +"He is joking," Pepe said. "Miguelito, you are a Bachelor of Arts. Tell +me, do workers joke, too?" + +"Quiet, both of you," Miguelito said. "_Compañero_ Hall will think we're +all crazy." + +Hall laughed. "I've seen boys like you before," he said. + +"We were too young to go then," Juan Antonio said. "But if they try it +here, the streets of San Hermano will run with blood before we let the +fascists win." + +"Juan Antonio is a Communist," Big Pepe said. + +The boy did not deny it. "Remember my words," he said, "the flag of the +Falange will never fly over San Hermano." + +"Not if we are still alive," Miguelito added. + +"Will you listen to these children?" Pepe asked. "As soon as you turn +your back they put on the _pantalones_ and make the noises of a man!" + +"This little dog of a fascist who followed you," Miguelito said, "who is +his superior?" + +"I don't know, _compañeros_. It could be Hitler...." + +"It could be Franco," Big Pepe said. + +"He said that," Juan Antonio said. "He said Hitler, didn't he, +Miguelito?" + +"Quiet," Miguelito said. "This is no joke. You said you saw him with his +superior?" + +Hall smiled at the boy. "Listen, _chico_," he said, "men with more +pistols than you have tried to put words in my mouth before. All they +got from my mouth was my spit." + +"_Olé!_" Juan Antonio punched Miguelito's shoulders with glee. + + * * * * * + +Souza was reading a fat book at his desk when Hall returned to the +Bolivar. He greeted the boys with familiarity. "They are reliable," he +said after they left. + +"I know. I was sober when I called you before. But tonight your reliable +boys nearly drank me under the table trying to find out who was with the +little dog." + +"The one who followed you to the Ritz?" + +"The same one. They also told me that you are President of the Hotel +Clerks Union." + +"I am." + +"Got a cigarette? Thanks. No, I've got matches." Hall looked around to +see if he and Souza were alone. Quietly, he said, "Androtten was the man +I saw with the little dog." + +Souza's face grew grimmer. "I don't think I am surprised." + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know. But I don't trust him." + +"Maybe this will help you." Hall handed him the license number of the +Renault. "It's the number of the car they used." + +"It will help," Souza said. + +"What time did Ansaldo get in?" + +"He did not get in, yet. Why?" + +"Androtten was following his car, I think." + +"Androtten is out, too." + +"Maybe we have something." + +"You have a message in your box." It was a note from Jerry. She was +going to work all day and had to attend a party at the American Embassy +in the evening. But she would call him in the morning. + +"I am watching her," Hall explained. + +The trace of a smile flitted across the long face of the night clerk. "I +know," he said. "Pepe told me." + +"I'll kill him," Hall laughed. "I'm going to bed. Leave a note in my box +about when they get in." + +He went to his room. When he turned on the light, he saw that a note had +been slipped under his door. It was from Jerry. "Thanks for a lovely +day," it said. "I will call you before I leave for the lab." + + + + +_Chapter five_ + + +He was dreaming of the crowds in the bull ring at Badajoz, but there +were no bulls on the sand. It was the day of the massacre, the day when +the Portuguese troops herded the _milicianos_ and their families and +handed them over to the waiting _franquistas_ on the Spanish side of the +border. It was the day the _franquistas_ shoved the Republican families +on to the sand of the bull ring at Badajoz and set up the heavy machine +guns in the boxes and fired away until every human being on the field +lay choking and dying in his own blood. In his dream Hall saw grand +ladies in mantillas in the boxes that day tossing roses and perfumed +kerchiefs to the animals at the machine guns, and in his dream he even +knew that the perfume on the kerchiefs came from a certain shop in +Barcelona. + +Then Hall spotted a crowd of German and Spanish officers in another box +and he leaped at them, his right hand gripping the ugly clasp knife in +his pocket. There were nine officers in the box, four of them Nazis and +one a gaudy Italian colonel and the rest were Spanish fascists in capes +and one of them wore a Requete beret, although his cape carried the +golden embroidered five arrows of the Falange. They began to flee from +their box in a panic, but Hall managed to get a quick look at one of the +Spaniards and then flung his knife at the Spaniard's retreating back. +Then the bells began to toll in the churches and carabineros left their +machine guns and ran barehanded after Hall but the clang of the bells +started to blot everything out and the church bells of Badajoz blended +into the steady drone of a smaller bell in Hall's ears and he awoke to +the phone bell which had abruptly brought him back to San Hermano. + +"Did I wake you up?" It was Jerry. + +"Yeah. What time?" + +"Stop groaning. Wash your face and I'll call you back in five minutes." + +Later, she asked him if he had been having a bad dream and he said it +had been closer to a nightmare in technicolor. "About the war?" she +asked, and he said it had been about the war. + +"Darling," she said, "I wish you never have another nightmare as long as +you live." + +"Thanks," he said. "Do we have breakfast together?" + +"No. I'm leaving with the doctors in a few minutes. Work all day." + +"Dinner tonight?" + +"That's out, too. I have to go to a party with the doctors at the +American Embassy." + +"Good. I was invited, too. I'll see you there." There was a long pause +at the girl's end of the wire, and Hall said, "Jerry? Are you still +listening?" + +"Sure," she said. + +"What's wrong?" + +"Nothing. You're a darling. I've got to hang up now. I've got to be out +of here in ten minutes." + +"O.K.," he said. "See you tonight." + +He reached the lobby at half-past eight. There was no message in his +box, and he could see that Jerry's key was already in the cubicle. "I'll +be in the dining room if anyone phones," he told the day clerk. He +bought a paper from a boy standing near the entrance of the Bolivar and +went in to eat. + +Hall was having his second cup of coffee when Androtten entered the +dining room. The little Dutchman smiled happily when he spotted Hall. + +"Good morning, good morning," he shouted. "Hell of a nice day, no?" + +"It's nice and sunny," Hall said. "Eating alone? Take a chair." + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Hall. Damn nice of you." + +Hall wanted to shove the incongruous hells and damns down the pink face +of the Hollander. "Not at all," he said. "I like company." But the +beaming Dutchman brought goose pimples to his spine this morning. + +"Excuse me," Hall said, rising. "I'll be back in a minute." + +He went to the desk, picked up a pad of cable blanks and an indelible +pencil. Then, at the table, he sat with pencil poised over the pad and +smiled at Androtten. "Mine is a funny business," he said. "When you get +to the capital of a country you can't go right to work, you know. Far +from it, Androtten. First you smooch around the town like a prowler, +talking to taxi drivers and bartenders and ..." + +"Pardon my ignorance, Mr. Hall. But _smooch_? Is it a real word or +journalists' slang?" + +"I guess you'd call it slang. I mean you have to mingle with the little +people to get an idea of the currents." + +"And when you get this idea?" + +"When you get the idea, you can go to work." Hall wrote the name and +address of the editor of one of the big weeklies in the States on the +blank. "Vice-President Gamburdo is man of hour here today," he wrote. +"Tomorrow may be man of hour in all Latin America. Arranging for +interview. Can you use? Matthew Hall." + +"And now you are working?" + +Hall turned the blank around so that Androtten could read the text of +his cable. "I'll let you in on my secret," he laughed. + +The Dutchman read the text. "Interesting," he said. "Damn interesting." + +"I'm afraid it's just routine." + +"Oh, never that." The Dutchman sighed. "When such vital personalities as +Señor Gamburdo are routine to you, Mr. Hall, I imagine that my story has +only a small chance of ever being told. But I suppose that is merely as +it should be." + +"Hell, no, Mr. Androtten. I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as I have +my interview with Gamburdo, we'll sit down and have our chat and then +I'll query the _Saturday Evening Post_ or _Collier's_ and whatever they +offer we'll split down the middle." + +"You make me happy as hell, Mr. Hall. But please, money is no object. +Please keep all of the money." + +Hall shook his head. "We'll fight that out later," he said. "Cigar?" + +Androtten demurred. His heart was not strong enough for cigars that +early in the morning, he explained. "In Java I was healthier than an +ox," he said. "But the damn Japanese ..." He let the rest of the +sentence remain unspoken. + +Through the open window of the dining room, Hall saw Pepe's LaSalle +drive up to the Bolivar. + +He excused himself with an "I'll be seeing you," and walked out to the +desk. He handed the cable blank to the day clerk. "Send it press rate +collect," he said. + +Pepe had a message for Hall from Souza. Ansaldo had returned to the +Bolivar at 3:14 A.M., twenty-three minutes before Wilhelm Androtten. +They had both left calls to be awakened at eight in the morning. + +"That all Souza said?" + +"That is the complete message." + +"Well, it's something, anyway." The papers said that Ansaldo was to +spend the morning at the bedside of President Tabio. + +"Where to?" + +"Gobernacion Building. But not right away. Drive somewhere where we can +have a coffee together. I'd like to talk to you first." + +Pepe took him to a little workers' restaurant on the edges of the +business section of New San Hermano. It was evident that he had had +little sleep. + +"Tired?" Hall asked. + +The driver whistled, softly. "Like a corpse," he admitted. + +An amused grimace distorted Hall's face. "What a corpse!" he said. "Why +didn't you tell the boys who followed the teachers and me from the café +last night to be better than the little dog?" + +"You saw them?" + +"I kept tripping over them all the way home." + +Pepe thought it was very funny. "They pledged their lives to protect +yours, the bunglers. Reliable, but clumsy." + +"I am not angry," Hall said. "I am grateful." + +"For nothing," Pepe protested. + +"Pepe, do you know why I came to San Hermano?" + +The big Asturian shrugged his shoulders. "You never told me, or +Fernando. Miguelito and his friend said you have the mouth of a clam." + +"Do you want to know why?" + +"I never question friends. You are a friend." + +Hall looked up at Pepe Delgado and wanted to tell him how much he +reminded him of the best of the men he had met in Spain, the best of the +officers and _milicianos_ who never, even in the heat of battle, forgot +the feelings and the sacred _dignidad_ of their fellow men. + +"Mother of God!" Pepe laughed. "Don't look at me as if I were that girl +with the red hair." + +"You are a good _compañero_," Hall said. "In a few days, perhaps I can +tell you." + +"I never ask questions of friends," Pepe said. + +"I know. Did Souza tell you what I told him last night?" + +"No. Only about when Ansaldo and Androtten came back." + +"Can you reach Souza today?" + +"Of course." + +"Then listen. Tonight, he must find some excuse for moving me into the +room next to Ansaldo--if there is such a room. Do you think he can do +it?" + +Pepe grabbed the check for the coffee, refused to relinquish it to Hall. +"This is my table," he said with quiet dignity. He also refused to +discuss his fee for driving Hall around San Hermano for days. +"_Mañana_," he laughed. "But about the room. I think Fernando can +arrange it. The wife of the owner of the Bolivar is a member of the +Centro Asturiano. She is also a first cousin of Dr. Gonzalez." + +"I hope he can do it," Hall said. + +"_Hola!_" Pepe boomed. "_Qué tal?_" He exchanged loud pleasantries with +a chauffeur who came in and sat down at a table in the corner. + +"A Gallego," he explained to Hall. "But otherwise a pretty decent man." + +"There are many decent Gallegos," Hall said. + +Pepe whistled through his teeth, shook the limp and dangling fingers of +his right hand, and looked behind his back. Hall grinned. Pepe's gesture +was as old as Spain. + +"Listen, Pepe," he laughed, "we have much to do. And all in a very short +time. I am going to see the Press Secretary in the Gobernacion. I am +requesting an interview with Gamburdo." + +"Gamburdo is a _cabrón_," Pepe said. + +"I know. In my eyes he is an _hijo de la gran puta_. But for the present +I want Gamburdo and his friends to think that I am an admirer of the +_cabrito_. Clear?" + +"I think I understand." + +"Good. Tell all of this to Souza when you drop me at Gobernacion. When +can you see him?" + +"I will try to see him at once." + +"_Bueno._ Let's go, then." + +In the car, Hall had a fresh idea. "This young Juan Antonio, the +teacher. Is he really a Communist?" + +"Yes." + +"Member of the party?" + +"Of course. He writes for _Mundo Obrero_ regularly." + +"Good. If you see him, ask him to go to the Communist headquarters and +from there to telephone a friend. From there, understand? Tell him to +call any friend. No, wait. Make it a friend in the office of _Mundo +Obrero_. I want him to denounce me to this friend as an admirer of +Gamburdo and an enemy of Tabio." + +"But why?" + +"I have an idea that Gamburdo has made some changes since he became +Acting President," Hall answered. "If he has, he's got some Cross and +Sword bastards listening in on all Communist phones." + +"It is possible," Pepe said. "I will discuss your idea with Juan +Antonio." + +"Talk him into it, Pepe." + +Pepe stopped the car in front of the Gobernacion building. He promised +to meet Hall at the Bolivar in two hours. + +Hall entered the polished marble corridors of the Gobernacion. There was +a popular song about this building. Hall thought of the words, written +by no known poet, and yet so well known in the nation that it had become +the unofficial anthem of the Hermanitos in the guerrilla armies which +had fought the Seguristas. Even today, after nearly three decades, San +Hermano youngsters learned the words from slightly older playmates when +they were barely old enough to play by themselves. Somehow, the kids of +the city sang a slightly less ribald version of the ballad of the +_edificio magnífico_ which cost the nation over twenty million pesos and +which, the song maintained, supported a village full of Don Augusto's +whores and bastards. + +"I want to see the Press Secretary," Hall told an attendant in the right +department. + +"So do I," the attendant laughed. "He resigned last week." + +"Didn't anyone take his place?" + +The attendant was a very old man. He leaned back in his chair and with +an eloquent look gave Hall to understand that he had completely lost +patience with the visitor. "_Chico_," he said, "no one could take Don +Pascual's place." + +"Please, _viejo_, I am in a hurry. Is anyone trying to take Don +Pascual's place?" + +"Ha!" The old man shifted in his chair. With withering scorn he raised +his arm and pointed a handful of gnarled brown fingers at a door marked +_Prensa_. There were many other men in San Hermano who pointed to things +with just that gesture. Hall recognized the gesture at once. He had seen +it for the first time in Geneva, when Anibal Tabio rose to make that +gesture toward the pile of captured Italian and German military +documents with which the Spaniards had tried to impress the League. + +Hall smiled with compassion at the figure of the old man imitating the +gesture of his idolized President. + +"Go in, go in," the old man said, petulantly. "Go in and see that burro +of a dolt who is _trying_ to take Don Pascual's place." + +"And has this burro a name?" + +"The burro has a name. It is Valenti. Now you made me say the +unspeakable name! Please, _chico_, in the name of my sainted mother and +the Educator, go away!" + +The old man's attitude told Hall more about what Gamburdo had already +done to the Press Bureau than he could have learned in a week of routine +digging. He handed the old man a cigar and a box of matches and walked +through the door to Valenti's office. He found himself in a small +anteroom facing a dark-haired girl pecking genteely at the keys of a +typewriter with creamy fingers whose long nails were painted a deep +blood red. She was immaculately groomed and pretty. + +"I would like to see Señor Valenti," he said. + +"Your name, Señor?" + +So you had voice training, too, he thought. "Matthew Hall," he said. "I +am a journalist from New York." + +"How nice!" The secretary switched to English immediately. There was +only the slightest suggestion of an accent to her English, and over the +faint Spanish intonations she tried to impose the broad a's of something +resembling the Oxford drawl. "It is quite a relief to speak English +during office hours, really." She pronounced it as "re-ahl-y." + +"Yours is a very good English, Miss ..." + +"Vardieno," she said. + +"Pick it up in school in San Hermano?" + +Miss Vardieno made a mouth of disdain. "Heavens, no!" she said. "Dad +sent me to finishing school in the States. Stuffy old place, but +charming in its own Adirondack way. Besides, I could always sneak down +to town for a week-end when it became too boring." + +"Of course," Hall smiled. "Nothing like good old New York to work off a +bore." + +"And how! What brings you to this forsaken village?" + +"Pan American Airways," he laughed. "There's a flight out of Miami every +two days they tell me." + +The girl laughed with him. "O.K.," she said. "I asked for it. I'll find +out if Mr. Valenti can see you now." She pushed her chair back and got +up, pausing mid-way long enough to give Hall a fleeting look at her +breasts with a casualness she had never learned in the Adirondacks. But +Hall had eyes only for the pendant which dangled at the end of a thin +platinum chain. When she sat at her desk or stood erect, Miss Vardieno's +Cross and Sword emblem sank neatly below the neck line of her blue New +York dress. + +"There are so many lovely sights in San Hermano," Hall sighed as the +girl walked into the private office. + +She was in the private office for quite some time. Emerging, she had +regained her finishing-school poise. "I am so sorry," she said. "Mr. +Valenti is tied up in a conference that will last for hours. Our +Congress opens in five days, you know, and what with the situation being +what it is, Mr. Hall, it is the feeling of the Press Director that it +will be impossible for any writer to obtain an interview with Mr. +Gamburdo until after the Congress convenes." + +Nice going, he thought. "An interview with the Vice-President? But how +did Mr. Valenti know that was what I wanted?" + +"I don't know, Mr. Hall. I guess he just presumed. Every one wants to +interview Mr. Gamburdo these days. If it keeps up I guess he'll make the +cover of _Time_, don't you think?" She sat down and propped up a flower +sagging over the rim of the crystal vase on her desk. "Our pretty +tropical blooms are too darned delicate, don't you think?" + +"Oh, yes," Hall said, thinking not of the broken blossom but of the +speed with which the text of his cable had reached Gamburdo's new Press +Secretary. + +Miss Vardieno brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her skirt. "Well, +anyway," she said in her best bored-with-it-all nuance, "he's going to +be a vast improvement over Tovarich Tabio." + +"I'll be seeing you," Hall said. + +"Don't be a stranger now," Miss Vardieno said. "It's such a relief to +speak English during office hours." + +Hall closed the door behind him and started to whistle the ballad about +the graft that built the marble halls of Gobernacion's _edificio +magnífico_. "You're right," he told the old attendant. "Valenti can +never wear Don Pascual's _pantalones_." + +The old man's dry cackle followed Hall down the swirling marble stairs. +Hall walked out to the Avenida de la Liberacion, looked in all +directions for the man who had followed him the night before. The yellow +straw hat was nowhere in sight. He turned his steps toward the +fashionable shopping district directly south on the avenue. If his +shadow were on him, he would flush him by walking down the broad, sunny +avenue. + +The shopping district brought no sign of the "little dog." Hall shopped +the plate-glass windows, hoping to catch a tell-tale glimpse of anyone +who might be on his heels. He went into a department store, bought a +tropical dinner suit, and arranged to have it altered and delivered to +the Bolivar at five. Then, after selecting a maroon tie and a shirt, he +found a phone booth and called Fielding's office. + +A Spanish-speaking secretary answered the phone. Fielding was in Alcala +at an auction, she said. "Please have him call Father Arupe's +secretary," Hall said. + +The hot noon-day sun forced Hall to abandon his ideas of taking a +leisurely stroll to the Bolivar. He found a rickety cab and relaxed on +the dusty cushions. Fielding was the man he needed now, Fielding might +be able to make Androtten show his cards, Fielding might have some of +the answers about the new Press Chief and his brand-new secretary. And +if Souza could find out who owned the Renault Androtten and the little +dog used, maybe Fielding could tie the information into some of his own +data and come up with something. Then when the boys in Havana answered +that screwy letter perhaps they'd all have something to go by. In three +days at the outside there would be word from Havana. Three days of +waiting and accepting Souza and Pepe and even Fielding on faith. + +At the Bolivar, the desk clerk told Hall that Pepe had called to say +that he was having some minor engine trouble and would be delayed for +about an hour. Hall noted the word "minor" and put it down to a delay in +reaching Souza or Juan Antonio. He ordered a jug of iced pineapple juice +sent up and went to his room. The long walk down the Avenida de la +Liberacion under the broiling sun had covered Hall with sweat. He +stripped and went to the bathroom. A slow gust of air hissed out of the +faucets when Hall turned the taps. He washed his face with cold water at +the basin while waiting for the pressure to force up the water to the +bath faucets. + +But no water came. The hissing ceased, the faucets went bone dry. Hall +phoned the news down to the desk. + +"I am so sorry, Señor," the clerk said. "But all the baths on your line +seem to have gone dry. The manager has sent for a plumber." + +Hall stretched out on his bed and tried to relax. + +The desk clerk phoned him back. "Can I send the plumber up?" he asked. + +"Sure." Hall put on his pants and a pair of slippers. More than anything +else, at this moment, he wanted to wallow in a cold tub. The plumber, +who looked enough like Pepe Delgado to be his twin, had other ideas. + +"It is very serious, Señor," he complained. "There will be no water from +these rotted pipes in a century." He banged the pipes with one tool and +twisted them with another, cursing them as he worked. "It is very +serious," he concluded. "I can do nothing on them today." + +"Mother of God!" Hall said, and then he saw the sly smile on the +plumber's massive face. + +"Even She couldn't get any water from these pipes," the plumber said. + +"How am I going to bathe?" + +"Who knows? Maybe the manager will give you another room where the bath +still works." + +"Maybe. Well, thanks for trying." + +"For nothing, Señor." The plumber picked up his tools and left. + +Hall dressed and joined Pepe in the car. "What did the plumber say?" +Pepe asked. + +"Enough. Let's have a quick lunch somewhere." + +"Souza is changing your room tonight. He is also changing the rooms of +four other guests. They have no water either." + +"Good work. Where are we eating?" + +"When I stop the car you'll find out." + +"Is the plumber your brother?" + +"My cousin. I also spoke to Juan Antonio. He made that telephone call." + +"Are you very hungry?" Hall asked. "I want to buy you half a steer." + +"I could eat half a steer, _compañero_. And I know where to get it, +too." He drove to an old garden restaurant near the beach. "Here they +serve the best meat in San Hermano. And at low prices, too." + +Pepe did ample justice to a tremendous steak. He washed it down with a +quart of beer, chiding Hall for confining his luncheon to a simple +roast-beef sandwich. "Such food is all right for little children, Señor +Hall. But you are a man." + +"Call me Mateo." + +"You should eat like a man, _Compañero_ Mateo." + +"I don't feel like eating." + +"Then go to a good doctor. Or take that red-headed woman into your bed +for a night. You'd eat in the morning, _chico_!" + +Hall laughed. "I'd rather see a doctor," he said. + +"A doctor?" Pepe grew serious. "Is anything wrong?" + +"Who knows? This Dr. Gonzales you mentioned. Is he a medico?" + +"Yes. Would you like to see him, _Compañero_ Mateo?" + +"Could we see him after lunch?" + +"Now is the best time. He's surely taking a little siesta, and it is +better not to telephone. His daughter is at school all day. Come on, +I'll drive you over." + +They got into the car and Pepe swung into a street with a trolley track +that led them to a middle-class suburb. He stopped in front of a gray +frame house similar to any doctor's house in an American town. A fat and +ancient Persian cat was sleeping in the shadiest part of the porch. Pepe +meowed at the cat. She opened a lazy eye, yawned, and went back to +sleep. + +"The cat and her master always take their siesta at the same time," Pepe +explained. "It is a very intelligent cat." He opened the screen door. + +"Is there no bell?" + +"He disconnects the bell when he naps." Pepe led Hall into a cool, +shaded living room. There was no rug on the highly polished redwood +floor. The furniture was made by native craftsmen of bamboo and wicker, +although the designs reflected the functional modernism of the Bauhaus +school. It was the first modern furniture Hall had ever seen in South +America. + +Pepe noticed Hall's interest. "The doctor has many peasant projects," he +explained. "He brought some Spanish refugees from Madrid to the country +to teach the peasants how to make good furniture. They have a big +co-operative shop in the southern province near the Little River. Sit +down in one of these new chairs. I'll get him." + +Hall relaxed in one of the low-slung chairs while Pepe went to the rear +part of the house. "He's not on the couch in his office," Pepe said. He +went to the foot of the stairs leading into the foyer. "_Hola!_ It's +Delgado! _Hola!_ Don Manuel, it's Delgado!" His shouts would have roused +the dead. He turned around and winked to Hall. "_Abajo_ Anibal Tabio!" +he shouted. "_Viva_ Gamburdo! _Viva_ Segura! _Abajo_ Tabio!" + +Upstairs there was the sound of a book or a heavy shoe dropping to the +floor. "Bandit!" someone shouted, and then a tall graying man in his +stockinged feet shuffled to the head of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and +cursing Pepe with a mock cantankerousness. "_Bulto_," he shouted. "Give +a man a chance to put on his shoes. Show some respect for my degrees!" + +Pepe made a low, courtly stage bow. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," he +pleaded. "I am only a simple petitioner." + +"_Momentico, compañero._" The doctor went to his room for a pair of +huaraches. + +"Doctor, I want you to meet _Compañero_ Mateo Hall." + +"_Compañero_ Hall!" The doctor started to speak English. "It is so good +to finally meet you. Don Anibal gave me your book on Spain for Christmas +when it was printed. He spoke to me about you very highly. Please, sit +down. You will find these chairs very comfortable." + +"Pepe has been telling me about your co-operative." + +"It is not very large. Here, try this chair. It is my favorite." + +Pepe reminded the doctor that Hall was in need of his professional +services. "Excuse my bad manners, doctor," he said, "but when you start +to talk about your projects ..." + +"He is right," the doctor smiled. "Sometimes I do talk too much. I like +to talk, even when people don't really listen to me. Even in my sleep I +talk. About many things. Art. Weaving. World politics. The war." + +"I like to listen," Hall said. "Where did you learn your English, +doctor?" + +"My English?" The doctor leaned back in his chair, the smile of a man +enjoying a highly private joke on his face. "I am afraid, _compañero_, +that I learned my English in the same sort of a place where you learned +your excellent Spanish. That is, in a dungeon built by the Kings of +Spain." + +"In Spain?" + +"No. I am not a Spaniard. My grandfathers were Spaniards, but my father +and I were born here." He pointed to a framed flag of the Republic which +hung on the wall over Hall's chair. "That flag hung in my cell in El +Moro for three years, and that flag was in my hands the day Segura's +death opened the prison gates to all of us." The doctor was not aware +that he was now speaking in Spanish. + +"The doctor was in El Moro with Don Anibal," Pepe said. + +"That is true," the doctor admitted. "Nearly every patriot on the +faculty and so many of the students were there, too. I had just taken my +degree in medicine but I was still at the University as an instructor in +biology when the arrests began. But don't think it was all tears and +terror. Don Anibal and his late cousin Federico formed the so-called +University Behind Bars. We had Chairs in Latin, English, biology, +history, art, literature--everything. The soldiers, who were with us, +smuggled in our books and papers. Later, when the Seguristas were out of +power, the students who were in prison were able to take their +examinations in the University of San Hermano, and the new Regents gave +them full academic credit for their studies at El Moro." + +"He is a sick man, doctor," Pepe said. "Examine him first and talk to +him later." + +"Pepe is right, _Compañero_ Hall. I do talk too much." + +"Nonsense. Any man who did three years in jail has a lot of talking to +catch up on when he gets out." + +"Will the examination take very long?" Pepe asked. "I have to go back to +town. I can pick you up later." + +"Have you an hour?" the doctor asked Hall. + +"I have all day." + +Pepe got up. "I'll be back in two hours," he laughed. He walked out to +the porch. They heard him meow at the cat. Then the cat screeched and +Pepe howled. + +"A cat is never completely civilized," Dr. Gonzales said. "Poor Pepe +refuses to believe it. And now Grisita has scratched him again." + +"Your wild beast!" Pepe roared. "She clawed me!" + +"Come inside, and I'll fix it, Pepe." + +"No, thanks. I've got iodine in my car." + +Hall expected the doctor to be amused. Instead, a wave of profound +sadness gripped the man. He took out a pocket handkerchief and ran it +over his forehead. "What's wrong, doctor?" + +"Not much," Gonzales said. "I just can't stand the way they spare me. +Since my illness it's been hell. For twelve years I was the National +Minister of public health education. Don Anibal appointed me when he was +Minister of Education. He created the job for me. Now I live on a +pension, and outside of the few hours I put in every week as a +consultant at the University and my handicraft projects, I do nothing. +Biologically I am now a vegetable. And my good friends, the people of +San Hermano ..." + +"_Claro._ You mean they are too kind ..." + +The doctor nodded. "But they are my friends," he said. "They do not do +this to hurt me. And now, what bothers you?" + +"My back. I think that I may have strained it." + +"I can examine you better in my office. It's in the next room." + +"Thank you. But first, I'd like to talk to you about some other things. +I don't know what's going on, but I do know that something is wrong. I +knew Don Anibal in Geneva, and I know that if he were well, your country +would break with the Axis...." + +The doctor sighed. "You are not alone," he said. "Don Anibal is a very +sick man. No one seems to know what is wrong, exactly. He is paralyzed +from the hips down, and he grows weaker every day. The mind is still +strong, but it must rest so much that none of us dare to tax Don Anibal +with worries other than his health. In the meanwhile, Gamburdo has taken +over." + +"And Gamburdo? Is he honest?" + +"Gamburdo is not a man of good will. He is a clever lawyer and a very +intelligent man. His family prospered under Segura, but the General +seduced a Gamburdo daughter, and that turned them against the +Seguristas. Gamburdo volunteered his services as a lawyer when Tabio and +the Republican junta was in jail. But this offer was a calculating +gamble. He knew that Segura's days were numbered; he knew that the +leaders of the junta would be the new government of the nation. He +joined the Party of Radical Socialism, but when he became its head, he +saw to it that, like himself, the party became neither radical nor +socialist." + +"He was for Franco, you know," Hall said. + +"I know. He was for Franco and the Falange and against Tabio. But he is +very intelligent. He managed to keep these things nicely hidden. When +Tabio was elected President and created the new government of national +unity, Gamburdo joined forces with Don Anibal--but only to destroy this +unity from within. + +"This is the least of his sins. It seems that he has kept all the +Republican doctors from the Presidencia. The only doctors Gamburdo has +permitted are the reactionaries, the old servants of the Seguristas. We +tried to talk to Don Anibal, but you know him and his saintly faith in +the goodness of Man. I think that, deliberately, he has placed his life +in Gamburdo's hands as a lesson to all of his old friends in the need +for real unity. It is as if he means to prove to us, by getting well, +that unity is the most important issue in the nation today." + +"And Dr. Ansaldo? Is he really good?" + +"He has a great reputation. But it is a gamble for Gamburdo alone. If +Don Anibal recovers, Gamburdo and his friends will say that it was a +Spaniard who saved the President. If he dies--even a great Spanish +doctor could not save him. Either way, Gamburdo stands to gain." + +In the office Hall took a chair facing the microscope on the doctor's +white enameled metal desk. He watched the doctor hunt through the +instrument cases along the wall. On a lower shelf, the doctor found his +stethoscope. + +"Would you please remove your shirt?" + +Hall shook his head. "No," he said. He gently took the stethoscope from +the doctor's hands, carefully folded it and put it away in a small +wooden box he found on the desk. "This is what I really came for, +doctor." + +"My stethoscope?" + +"Exactly." He explained to the doctor that with such instruments one +could easily hear through an average indoor wall. "I have a queer +feeling," he said, "that with your stethoscope I can perhaps get a hint +as to what is actually wrong with Don Anibal,--or, at least, in San +Hermano." + +The doctor gave Hall his hand. "I won't ask you any questions," he said. +"But may I wish you luck?" + +"Thank you." + +"Now let me fix you a cold drink. I'm not very good in the kitchen, but +we'll see what we can both do." + +Pepe returned with news for Hall about the change of rooms at the hotel. +Hall now had the room next to Ansaldo's sitting room. He also told him +that the Spanish Republican societies were planning an _homenaje_ for +Hall. "They formed a committee to arrange it with you, but I told them +that you didn't want to see them until next week." + +"I hope you were pleasant," Hall said. + +"Of course I was, Mateo. I just thought you didn't want too much noise +about you in San Hermano for the next few days." + +"Maybe you're right, Pepe." + +"What do you want to do now?" + +"Take a bath. I'm going to a party at the American Embassy tonight. But +tomorrow I think we'll have a lot of work to do, _compañero_." + +"I wonder what happened to the little dog?" + +"Maybe I'll know some more about him tonight." + +"What have you got in the box?" + +"Medicine." + +Pepe snorted. "_Mierda!_" he laughed. "What you really need is ..." + +"I know," Hall said, sharply. "That girl with the red hair." + +"Excuse me," Pepe said. "I am not a doctor." + +"You are too modest, _ilustre_." + +"Have a good time tonight. I'll be waiting for you in the morning. Or, +if you change your mind, leave word with Fernando." + +"Good. Until tomorrow, then." Hall got the key to his new room from the +clerk, as well as the packages he had ordered earlier in the day. + +The new room was larger than the other one. His clothes and bags had +already been moved in, and the chambermaid had made a creditable effort +to put them away as Hall had previously done. Hall went to the window, +saw that it looked out on the Plaza. He adjusted his window shutters for +privacy. The wall between his room and Ansaldo's sitting room had only a +bureau against it. Hall moved the chest slightly to one side, made room +for a small, solid chair. Then he took his bath. + +He was shaving when he heard Ansaldo return to the Bolivar. He wrapped a +towel around his middle, put the plastic prongs of the stethoscope in +his ears, and sat down on the little chair facing the wall. The hearing +end of the stethoscope picked up only footsteps. The sounds told their +own story. The man in the next room was walking to the window, then +opening the shutters, then sitting on the couch. There were other +footsteps, lighter and less pronounced. Perhaps another person in the +room was wearing soft slippers or going barefooted, like Hall himself. + +"Are you tired, _ilustre_?" It was Marina. + +"No. Why should I be tired?" Ansaldo. + +Marina giggled. + +"Did you find out?" Ansaldo asked. + +"Not yet, _ilustre_. What was it like to examine Tovarich Tabio?" + +Ansaldo laughed. "Let me take care of the Tovarich, please. And don't +act too happy at the Embassy tonight." + +"I am not a fool, _ilustre_. Didn't the Caudillo himself personally +decorate me for bravery?" + +"Now you are being a boor. I detest boors." + +"I am sorry, _ilustre_." + +"Try to find out if they are coming in tonight." + +"They would not be coming by Clipper," Marina said. "Too dangerous." + +There was the rustle of paper, followed by the padded footsteps. Then +someone--Hall guessed it was Marina--sat down in a creaky armchair. The +man with the shoes got up and walked in the direction opposite from +Hall's room. Hall heard a door open, followed a few seconds later by the +rush of water into a tub. He remained in his chair, his stethoscope +still against the plaster. + +The phone near Hall's bed started to ring. He got up very quietly, +tiptoed over to the bed. He hid the stethoscope under his pillow before +he answered. + +"Hello, it's me." + +"Yeah, Jerry." + +"Speak louder. I can't hear you." + +"Sure." He went on speaking with his hand around the mouthpiece to +muffle the sound. "Can you hear me now?" + +"Just about. Listen, I've got lots to tell you. I was with Doctor when +he examined the President, and he was magnificent!" + +"The patient?" + +"No, you dope. The doctor. What are you doing now?" + +"Nothing. Getting dressed." + +"Me too. Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about it." + +"Right now?" + +Jerry laughed. + +"I know," he said. "You're not wearing a thing at the moment." + +"Just a second. There. Now you're right about one thing, anyway." + +"Don't tempt me," he warned. "I might decide to check up for myself." + +"Not now you won't! Meet you downstairs in about twenty minutes. O.K.?" + +Hall finished his shave and dressed, toying all the while with the +notion of walking down the corridor to Jerry's room before she had a +chance to leave. Pepe would heartily approve, he thought, and, besides, +since that hour in the woods on top of Monte Azul, Jerry had not exactly +indicated that he would be unwelcome if he made a try. But while he +speculated, Jerry phoned him again from downstairs. "Daydreaming?" she +asked, and he answered, "Yes, about you." + +She met him at the elevator in the lobby. "Come on," she laughed, "let's +go to that place in back of the Cathedral. The little Dutch drip was +around here a second ago. He wants to tell you the story of his life, he +told me." + +"O.K. Let's just keep walking." + +She took his arm as they left the hotel. "Miss me?" she asked. + +"I did." + +"You're a liar." + +Hall winced. "Is that the best you have to say? How about the +magnificent doctor?" + +"He's really good, Matt. I'm not kidding. I've worked with some corking +medics in my day, but this guy is tops." She told Hall about the +masterly way in which Ansaldo had taken command of the situation, +kicking all the San Hermano doctors out of the sick room and examining +Tabio only in the presence of Marina, Jerry and Tabio's son. + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"Ansaldo has an idea. But he has to make certain." + +"What does it look like to you?" + +"It could be many things. What's good to drink here?" + +"Anything. Scotch and soda?" + +"Oke. But really, Matt, you should have seen Doctor in that sick room." +She launched into a long and enthusiastic account of the doctor at work. + +The girl was on the point of repeating herself when Hall cut her short. +"Listen," he said. "Let me tell you something about Anibal Tabio and his +generation of young democrats who walked out of jail and started to make +history." He told her of the schools and the hospitals which had been +built in the country in the last decade, of the minimum-wage laws, of +the work of Tabio followers like Dr. Gonzales. + +He told her how he first met Tabio in Geneva. "His was supposed to be +just a small voice in the League; a little South American dressing to +make the whole show look good. But a month after he got there, Mussolini +started to pop his goo-goo eyes at Ethiopia. Hoare and Laval and Halifax +were so nice and ready to give the Italian steamroller a healthy shove +downhill to Addis Ababa. Then one afternoon Litvinov got up to fire some +heavy shots. But that was expected. Then del Vayo started, and the fun +began. Because, when Vayo was through, it was Tabio's turn. And lady, +what Anibal Tabio did to hot shots like Hoare and Laval without even +raising his voice was just plain murder." + +Jerry put her hand on Hall's arm. "I suppose I read about it in the +papers at the time. It didn't mean much to me then. I'm afraid it didn't +mean much to me until right now, Matt." + +"Weren't you interested in what happened in the world?" + +"Not too much, I'm afraid. I was interested in myself. I was making up +my mind to go to Reno, and then I sat in Reno for six weeks cramming on +my old school books, and then I was off to nursing school." + +"Didn't Ethiopia, and later Spain, make any impression upon you?" Hall's +question was very gently stated. + +"Of course it did, Matt. I was sorry for the Africans and I was sorry +for the Spaniards. I wanted Mussolini to get licked and I wanted the +Loyalists to win. But most of all I wanted to get through nursing school +and then earn enough money to study medicine." + +"In other words, if Geraldine Olmstead got her M.D., all would be right +with the world, eh?" + +She avoided his eyes. "It sounds stupid and mean," she said. "But I +guess I deserve it. I'm afraid that was the idea." + +"When did the idea die?" + +"About ten seconds ago, when you put it into words," she admitted. "I +never thought of it in that way before. But I wasn't the only one, +Matt." + +"Hell, no! You were in a majority when the war started. The whole +country was sitting back and, as it thought, minding its own business. +We thought we were wonderfully immune until the bombs began to drop on +Pearl Harbor." + +"Now you're being gallant," she laughed. "There were plenty of people in +the country like--like you, Matt. Have we time for another drink?" + +Hall was staring into space. Suddenly he exploded. "_Madre de Dios!_ Now +I remember!" + +"Remember what? You look like you've seen a ghost." + +"I have." Hall tapped his head. "In here." + +Jerry laughed. "I wish someone would come along and tell me what this is +all about." + +"There's no time. Let's get back to the hotel. I've got to change +clothes and there's a guy I want to see before I go to the party." + +"But what's it all about?" + +"I'll tell you later." + +Walking back to the hotel, he asked Jerry if she had ever found the +solution to a problem in a dream. "Because just now I did. Do you +remember when you woke me up this morning that I sounded like a guy in a +fog? Well, I was. But just a few minutes ago at that table on the +sidewalk, the fog lifted." + +"And now you feel better?" + +"Sure. It's all over." + +"I think you're lying. I think that whatever it is, it's just +beginning." + +"No. It's over." + +Jerry was right. But what she did not know was that the fog had lifted +on Dr. Varela Ansaldo. The doctor was the Spanish officer of Hall's +dream, the one at whose back Hall hurled the knife. And at the table, +sipping his second drink, Hall had recalled in a flash where he had seen +Varela Ansaldo before. It had happened in Burgos, in April of 1938, +during a review of the 12th Division of the fascist army. Ansaldo, +wearing the uniform of a Franco major, with a big Falange yoke and +arrows sewn over the left breast pocket, had shared a bench on the +reviewing stand with an Italian and a German officer. Directly behind +them, on that day, had flown the flags of Imperial Spain, The Falange, +Nazi Germany and fascist Italy. Hall remembered the tableau vividly, +remembered so clearly perhaps because while watching the review from the +sidewalk he had been annoyed by the staff photographer of Franco's +_Arriba_, who must have shot a hundred pictures of the officials in the +stands that day and who had also shoved Hall aside or stepped on his +toes before shooting each picture. + +"I'll see you at the Embassy tonight," he said. + +"Oke. But get that scowl off your face first," she smiled. "You promised +to be nice tonight, and right now you look as if you are planning to +kill someone with your bare hands." + + + + +_Chapter six_ + + +The American Embassy was three blocks beyond the Presidencia. Hall +wanted to walk to the party, but when he reached the street he became +self-conscious about his palm-beach tuxedo jacket, and he hailed a +strange cab. + +The Embassy was housed in an old Spanish palace which a former +Ambassador had left to the United States Government in his will. After +the first World War, when the government had taken title to the palace, +Washington sent an architect and an office efficiency man to San Hermano +to redesign the structure. The outside remained more or less intact. But +inside, many changes had been effected. The spacious street floor, +designed as the slave quarters in the seventeenth century and later +converted to storerooms and servants' quarters, was now a hive of +offices and waiting rooms. The second floor was devoted largely to a +tremendous ballroom, a state dining room, and the tapestried private +offices of the Ambassador himself. The living quarters of the Ambassador +took up the third floor, while the low-ceilinged fourth floor, +originally designed for soldiers, was now given over to servants' rooms. + +A secretary at the entrance checked Hall's name off against a list on a +teak table. He took the carpeted stairs to the ballroom. Two butlers +stood at a screen in the doorway to the big room. The first butler +announced his name, but not loud enough to disturb any of the +Ambassador's two hundred-odd guests. The second butler nodded to Hall, +and led the way through a maze of dignitaries, diplomats' wives, and +young people trying to dance to the music a rumba band was producing +from a bandstand in a corner. Hall followed him patiently, looking for a +sign of Jerry's red hair. The butler nodded gravely at a young girl +dancing with a thin Latin in tails. She left her dancing partner and +advanced on Hall with an outstretched hand. + +"Mr. Matthew Hall, Miss Margaret," the butler whispered. + +"I'm so glad you came, Mr. Hall. I'm Margaret Skidmore." Her hand, thin +and remarkably strong, was covered with a white net glove that reached +to her elbow. + +"It's nice of you to have me," Hall said. + +Margaret Skidmore took his arm. "We must get you a drink," she said, +"and introduce you to some of the more interesting people here. And oh, +yes, to my father. But I warn you, he's not in the first category." She +was short; much smaller than Jerry, Hall thought, but a bird of a +different color. As they crossed the room, a wisp of the black hair +piled on top of her head dropped over her eye. Hall was amused by the +way she blew the hair to one side twice before deciding to lift it with +her gloved hand. + +"This is my Dad's favorite punch," she said at the buffet table. "I +forgot to tell you that the party is to celebrate the third anniversary +of his mission." + +Hall ladled out two cups. "Here's to the next three years," he toasted. + +"The next three years are the ones that will count," Margaret Skidmore +said. She was smiling at Hall and at some other guests when she said it, +but it was not polite banter. + +"The Press Secretary of the Embassy is sore at you," she said. "He's +angry because you tried to get to Gamburdo without him." + +"I'm sorry," Hall said. "If you'll introduce me to him, I'll try to make +amends." + +"Don't bother," she laughed. "Smitty's a stuffed shirt who needs to be +taken down a peg or two. But I must say that you look a lot different +than I thought you would, Mr. Hall." + +"I know. I'm supposed to look like a hero and I have the face of a mugg. +Or a gorilla." He was still looking for Jerry. "You're a surprise, too." + +"Am I so different?" There was coquettish amusement in her hazel eyes. +She tilted her fragile doll's nose, forced a haughty cast to her +small-girl's face. "Is an Ambassador's daughter supposed to be a +high-and-mighty lady like this?" + +"No. I like you better the other way." + +"Thanks. It's my only way." + +Hall spotted Jerry on the dance floor with Varela Ansaldo. Jerry looked +very happy, and Ansaldo had lost some of his undertaker's grimness. He +tried in vain to catch her eye. + +"Here comes my father." + +Hall found himself shaking hands with a portly, middle-aged American who +wore tails as if to the manor born. J. Burton Skidmore had the most +imposing head of wavy gray hair in the entire hemisphere, and he knew +it. His face, still ruddy and youngish, was pink and smelled of fine +cologne. + +"_Con mucho gusto_," the Ambassador said, holding Hall's hand and bowing +slightly from the waist. + +"I'm glad to meet you, sir," Hall said. + +"Father, Mr. Hall is an American. He is Matthew Hall, the writer. You +know. Matthew Hall." The childish, well-bred-daughter smile on Margaret +Skidmore's face could not conceal the acid contempt in her voice. "Mr. +Hall is an American, from New York." + +"Oh, yes, oh, yes, indeed. Hall. Of course, Mr. Hall. Been in San +Hermano long, Mr. Hall?" + +"No, sir. Less than a week." + +"Fine place, Mr. Hall. Fine people. Have you met Smitty yet? Dear, have +you seen Smitty? I think he and Mr.--Mr. Hall could find much in common, +Margaret." + +"Tomorrow," Margaret Skidmore said, and the Ambassador helped himself to +a cup of punch. + +"_Amigo Mateo!_" + +Without turning around, Hall said, in Spanish, "Only one man in all the +world has a scratchy voice like that," and then he turned around and +embraced Felipe Duarte. + +"What brings you to San Hermano?" he asked Duarte. + +"I am now a diplomat. First Counselor of the Mexican Embassy in San +Hermano and guest professor of literature at the University." + +Hall and Duarte had last met in Spain, where Duarte had served as a +Lieutenant-Colonel with the regular Spanish People's Army. "_Coronel_ +Pancho Villa" was the name his men gave him, and the thin, gangling +Mexican scholar had fought like a terror to live up to this name. Of +Duarte, the General Staff officers said that he was as bad a strategist +as he was brave a man, which would have made him one of the worst +strategists in military history. But during the Ebro retreat, Duarte had +taught the veteran professional officers a few things about the tactics +of guerrilla warfare which raised his standing as a soldier. + +Duarte took Margaret Skidmore's hand and raised it to his lips. +"_Enchanté_," he sighed, and she knew at once that he was laughing at +her. + +"Señor Ambassador," Duarte said, speaking rapid Spanish, "this is one of +the most magnificent parties I have ever attended. How do you manage to +give such splendid parties with only your chit of a daughter to help you +shove food down the ulcerous throats of these sons of whore mothers, +dear Señor Ambassador? It is stupendous. It is colossal." + +The Ambassador smiled, shook Duarte's hand, and bowing slightly, he +murmured, "_Con mucho gusto_." Then, still smiling, he turned and walked +away. + +"Don't let this guy fool you," Hall said to the Ambassador's daughter. +"He speaks English as well as we do." + +"Better," Duarte said. "Ah learned mah English in Texas, Ah'll have +yo'all know, suh. And Mateo, don't let Margaret's innocent smile fool +you. She knows almost enough Spanish to know what I just told her +distinguished papa." + +"Some day I'm going to know enough," Margaret laughed. "And when I do, +you're going to get your face slapped in front of everyone, I'm afraid. +Tell me, Mateo, does _hijos de la gran puta_ mean what I think it does?" + +"That sounds like slang to me," Hall said. "I learned my Spanish on the +Linguaphone." + +"You're a fast boy, Matt," she said. "Call me Margaret, if you wish." +She straightened Hall's tie with a perfumed glove. "I'll give you a +little time with Felipe, and then I'll steal you back. There are many +people here tonight who want to meet you." + +"Hurry back," Duarte said. "He bores me stiff when I have him on my +hands too long." + +"You bastard," Hall said. "You're a diplomat now. Don't you ever stop +clowning?" + +"Sure. When I kill fascists I am very serious. You know that, Mateo. But +here, if I did not clown, I would die of boredom. For example, when +Skidmore gives a party, the politicos in my Embassy, they all find +reasons for being out of town. I am not a politico. I am a professor of +literature and a killer of fascists, by profession; a diplomat because +someone wanted to do Lombardo a favor and at the same time remove my +face from the domestic scene. _Claro?_ So it is clown or die. And if I +must die, I prefer to die having a second crack at Franco." + +"_Claro, amigo._ But must you wear a suit like this one?" + +Duarte's evening clothes were his cloak of independence. He wore a cheap +tuxedo he had bought in New York for twenty dollars and a pair of worn +patent-leather shoes that creaked as he walked. On state occasions, he +wore the medals he had earned on the battlefields in Spain. For private +parties, he simply wore an enameled gold Mexican flag on his lapel. +Tonight, he wore only the flag. + +All this he explained to Hall in his gay, rasping Spanish. "When the +Falangist Embassy was still on good terms, I wore my Republican medals +all the time. But just before Don Anibal took sick, he insulted the +Caudillo in a speech before the University faculty, and when the Franco +Ambassador called to ask for an apology Tabio told him that the truth +called for no apologies. So the Caudillo got sore and he called his +Ambassador home. The Embassy is still open, but a clerk is in charge, +and there isn't a Spanish diplomat in San Hermano of high enough +standing to be invited to any Embassy." + +Jerry joined them, and when Hall presented her to Duarte, the Mexican +kissed her hand and murmured, "_Enchanté_." + +"Miss Olmstead is Dr. Ansaldo's nurse," Hall said. + +"How very interesting," Duarte said. "May I have this dance with the +nurse of Dr. Ansaldo?" and before she had a chance to say that her feet +were killing her, the dexterous Duarte was guiding her through the steps +of an intricate rumba he improvised at that moment. + +Hall took another glass of punch. Duarte was his friend, but at the +moment he wanted to break his neck. He wanted Jerry for himself, and he +hated the idea of admitting or showing it. He watched them so intently +that he failed to see Margaret return to the punch bowl. + +"Deserted?" she asked. "Our friend Felipe would desert his mother for a +redhead." + +"He's quite a guy," Hall laughed. + +"Come on," she said. "There's a crowd that's been dying to meet you. The +country's biggest publisher and some of the more important business +men." + +"Fernandez?" + +"That's right. He publishes _El Imparcial_. Confidentially, his paper is +getting the Cabot Prize this year. Dad arranged it." + +Fernandez was standing with a group of three Hermanitos and a blonde +fortyish woman in a tight dress whom Hall recognized instantly as an +American. "I'm Giselle Prescott," she said, her smile revealing flecks +of lipstick on her yellow teeth. + +"Take care of the amenities, will you, Gis?" Margaret Skidmore said. +"Dad is flagging me over at the other end." She picked up her skirts, +hurried to her father's rescue. + +Giselle Prescott introduced Hall to José Fernandez, tall, handsome, in +his early fifties. Fernandez presented him to Segundo Vardieno, +Francisco Davila, and Alfonso Quinones. Davila was a man of one age and +build with Fernandez, the other two were shorter and about ten years +younger. Breathlessly, Giselle Prescott told Hall that Vardieno and +Quinones were among the ten largest landowners in the nation, and Davila +its leading attorney. They all made modest denials. + +Quinones asked Giselle to dance, and she accepted gladly. Her myriad +blonde ringlets neatly blocked her partner's forward view. + +"Very accomplished writer," Hall said. "In the popular magazine field, +Miss Prescott is supreme." + +"She is very able," Davila said. Like Quinones and Vardieno, he wore the +emblem of the Cross and the Sword in his lapel. Fernandez wore only the +ribbon of the French Legion of Honor. + +"My niece told me that you had some difficulties at the Press Bureau +today," Vardieno said. + +"Your niece?" Then he remembered the golden Cross and Sword dangling +from the thin golden chain. "Oh, yes, the young lady who speaks English +so well." + +Vardieno explained to Fernandez that Hall had been unable to arrange for +an interview with Gamburdo. "Don't you think you could help Señor Hall?" +Davila asked, and Fernandez assured the three men that the matter would +be taken care of in the morning. Of course, it might not be possible +until after the Congress convened, but then politics in San Hermano +being what they were, the illustrious colleague from North America would +surely be understanding. + +"What's the inside on the political picture?" Hall asked, and the three +men, talking in unison and talking singly gave him one picture. + +Their picture was very detailed. "El Tovarich--our Red President, you +know," had lined up the unruly elements behind a dangerous program of +confiscating the estates of their rightful owners and turning them over +to communist gunmen. In addition to this land-piracy scheme, Tabio also +intended to drive the Catholic Church underground and impose heavy +penalty taxes on the parents who sent their children to Catholic +parochial schools. To aid in this program, Tabio was throwing open the +gates of the nation to Red agitators disguised as Jewish and Spanish +refugees. + +"So it's as bad as that," Hall said. + +"Worse." Fernandez looked around him. "Come closer," he said. "There's +something I must tell you about your own safety." + +"My safety?" + +"Yes, Señor." Fernandez had his right hand on Hall's shoulder. "Late +this afternoon I received a confidential information that the Communist +Party in San Hermano had privately denounced you to its members." + +"Denounced me? But why?" + +"Yes, Señor. And it was a most dangerous denunciation, too. A prominent +communist leader telephoned the editor of the official Red paper and +denounced you for being an enemy of Tovarich Tabio and a supporter of +Señor Gamburdo." + +Hall smiled. "But that couldn't be so bad," he demurred. "The Reds are +always denouncing someone. Tomorrow the Communist Party paper will +attack me as a fascist, and I guess that will be the end of the whole +thing." + +"No, that is not what will happen," Segundo Vardieno insisted. "Tell him +the rest of the information, Don José." + +Again José Fernandez looked around to make sure that he was not being +overheard. "Señor Vardieno is right, my friend. You see," he said, "the +Red who phoned the _Mundo Obrero_ ordered the editor _not_ to print a +word about you--yet. Do you understand what that means?" + +Davila, the lawyer, explained. "What Don José means," he said, "is that +a secret denunciation generally precedes an assassination. You see, +Señor Hall, if the Reds denounce you in their press, you would be marked +before the world as an enemy of the Tovarich. Then, if anything happened +to you--they are not only blameless, but even after killing you they can +make great propaganda about how the alleged fascists killed you because +you are a noted American patriot who stands for free enterprise." + +"Pretty clever," Hall said. + +"Jewish cleverness!" Segundo Vardieno was shaking with rage. "Give a Jew +a hundred pesos and in a day he has a thousand and you'll never know how +he did it. But will he apply his cleverness for the good of the country? +No! Only for communism." + +"Is Tabio a Jew?" Hall asked. + +"Confidentially," Vardieno answered, "El Tovarich is a Sephardic Jew. +But we're not making it public because we are gentlemen." + +"And only because we are gentlemen," Fernandez added. "I don't think El +Tovarich will be among us much longer." + +"Is he really that sick?" + +"Oh, yes," Davila said. "You know what happened to him, don't you? No? +Well, it's almost like the Hand of Divine Retribution." He told Hall +that Tabio had turned over to one of his henchman a vineyard confiscated +from an old family, and that in gratitude the henchman had started to +distill a special brandy for the Tovarich. "And now, the excess alcohol +from too much of the stolen grape has taken its toll." + +"Well, what do you know!" Hall said. + +"It is the gospel truth," Fernandez said. "I have ways of confirming the +story." + +"Some mess, isn't it?" Hall said. + +"It is filled with dangers," Vardieno said. "Your calmness is admirable, +Señor Hall, but you had better watch out. The Reds are out to kill you." + +Hall accepted a cigar from José Fernandez, took his time about lighting +it before answering Vardieno. "Oh, I don't know," he said, casually. +"Perhaps you might know that earlier in this war, I was on board a +British warship which the Nazis sunk with aerial torpedoes. I not only +survived, but I came through without a scratch. Since then I just can't +get too excited about a threat." He looked at the three men to see if +his braggart's act succeeded. Fernandez was obviously the most impressed +of the three. + +"_Bueno! Muy caballero!_" Fernandez said. "But you had better be +careful. The Reds in San Hermano have none of the sporting codes of the +Nazi airman." + +"Well, now that you mention it," Hall said, "I did catch some bastard +following me the other day." + +In a small voice, Davila asked, "Did you get a good look at him?" + +"I most certainly did. He was a big, clumsy brute in the white linen +suit of a respectable business man and a panama hat. But I'll bet a good +box of Havana cigars that he was a longshoreman or a miner. I know the +type." + +Davila looked at Vardieno and Fernandez. A slow grin crept over the +lawyer's face, and then the other two Hermanitos were grinning too. "So +they started, eh?" he said. "Well, don't let that big one worry you too +much. Should he, Don José?" + +The publisher grunted. "No. Don't worry about that one." Hall could +sense that Fernandez was picking up his cue from the lawyer. + +"As a matter of fact," Davila said, "I'll wager that you can find the +picture of the man in the white suit in Don José's confidential file on +the Reds. He keeps it in his office in the _Imparcial_ building." + +"I would be honored if you visited me in my office," José Fernandez said +to Hall. + +"Perhaps I can make it this week," Hall said. + +"Sst," Davila warned. "Miss Prescott is coming back. Let's change the +subject." + +"Of course," Vardieno said. "There is no sense in involving her in +this." + +"This is quite a turnout," Hall was saying when Giselle Prescott and +Quinones rejoined the group. "I think that every nation is represented +by its Ambassador here." + +"Every nation but Spain," Quinones said. "El Tovarich took care of that +by insulting the Ambassador and the Chief of the Spanish State." + +"It's true," Vardieno said. "Spain is a good customer for our nation, +but El Tovarich is so angry at Generalissimo Franco for destroying +communism in the Motherland that he is deliberately trying to destroy +this trade in order to get even with Franco." + +"He not only insulted Spain," Quinones said. "In his speech to the +University, El Tovarich said that only the so-called fascists in San +Hermano supported Franco." + +"Sounds like our pinkos back home," Giselle Prescott said to Hall. + +Fernandez exploded. "I am a good Catholic," he snapped. "I am pious. +During the Civil War I supported Franco. I was proud to support him. I +not only supported Franco, but I was delighted to hail Hitler and +Mussolini as noble allies in the struggle against Jewish Bolshevism. But +am I a fascist? I defy any man to call me a fascist or a Falangist to my +face!" + +Davila turned to both Hall and Giselle Prescott. "Now don't jump to any +false conclusions about Don José," he smiled. "After all, you Americans +are not Reds because you welcome the godless Russian armies of Stalin as +your allies in this present war, are you?" + +"Bull's-eye!" Giselle Prescott laughed. "I'm delighted to hear you both +talk like this. Back home only the Reds and the pinkos were for the +so-called Spanish Loyalists during the war." She opened her tiny purse +and found a leather address book. "Gimme a pencil or a pen, will you, +Hall?" + +"Sure. What for?" + +"I want to put down what Señor Fernandez and Señor Davila just said +before I forget. I'm doing a piece for a mag and these quotes would just +fit in. May I quote you, gentlemen?" + +"I have nothing to conceal," Fernandez said proudly. + +Davila was very gracious. "Of course you may use these remarks. But +please don't use Don José's name in your article. It might be +misunderstood. You see, Don José has many enemies in the Jewish and +radical press in your country." + +"On my honor as a Girl Scout," she said, "I'll use the quotes but not +the names." + +"You've got quite a story there," Hall said. He was looking into the mob +on the dance floor for a sign of Jerry. Her red hair was not to be +found, but Margaret Skidmore, dancing with a bemedaled diplomat, caught +his eye and gestured that she would join him at the end of that dance. +She took him away from the group in a few minutes and led him toward the +American bar she had rigged up for the party. + +"They sure were talking at you for a while," she said. "I could see them +giving it to you with both barrels." + +"That they were. What is the lowdown, anyway? Are those boys completely +right about Tabio?" + +Margaret was amused. "Oh, they're a gang of hotheads, I warn you. But +nice. I suspect that our friend Giselle is going to find Don José +particularly nice." + +"Meow!" + +"I'm not a cat. I just know Giselle." + +"Let's talk about San Hermano politics. I think you know plenty in that +little head of yours." + +"Oh, I do. But tonight's a party. I've got to be Daddy's good little +Hostess." + +"Like it?" + +"Bores me silly," Margaret said. + +"Perhaps we can talk some other time?" + +"Tomorrow would be swell. I have to go to my place in Juarez early in +the morning. Why don't you come out for lunch? It's a two-hour ride by +train from San Hermano. I think you can make a train at eleven." + +"Tomorrow?" Hall hesitated. + +"I wish you'd make it," the girl said with a sudden intensity. + +"It's a date." + +"I'll meet you at the station." + +They joined her father and one of the Embassy secretaries at the bar. +Hall had a Cuba Libre, and was introduced to a South American painter. +He listened to the painter talk to the Ambassador about the beauties of +Arizona, watched J. Burton Skidmore gravely shake hands with the painter +and mutter, "_Con mucho gusto_." Then the painter asked Margaret to +dance and, when she left, Hall wandered off to look for Jerry. + +He found her at the punch bowl with Ansaldo. "May I ask Miss Olmstead +for this dance?" he asked the doctor. + +"Just this one dance," Jerry said, "I'll be right back." + +She put her cheek against his, softly hummed the tune the band was +playing. + +"It's nice to have you in my arms," he said. + +"It's nice to be in your arms." + +He held her closer. They danced well together. So well that when Jerry +said it would be better if they did not dance again that night, Hall +made up his mind to leave at once. "I can't hang around and watch you +dancing with Ansaldo all night," he said. + +"Why, Massa Hall," she said, "Ah swain Ah do believe you-all are +jealous!" + +"Did Duarte give you English lessons in one rumba, too?" + +"You're a goof," she laughed. + +He took her back to Ansaldo, paid his respects to the Ambassador, and +looked for Duarte. The Mexican was talking to the tall young wife of the +Vichy Ambassador. + +"Felipe," Hall tugged at Duarte's sleeve, "I am afraid that I must go +now." + +"I'll go with you, if you're alone. Madame, _enchanté_ ..." He winked at +Hall as he kissed Madame la Comtesse's hand. "Now we must pay our +respects to our host." + +"I already have." + +"Come with me while I do. I never miss it. He has kept me from +squandering my money. I bet with myself on him, and I always lose. So +Felipe pays Duarte, and Duarte supports Felipe." + +"What the hell are you babbling about now?" + +"Your Ambassador. He is an original, Mateo. For three years he draws me +to his parties as a lodestone draws baser metals. In three years, he has +learned exactly three words of Spanish: _'Con mucho gusto_.' Of course +he still says them with a gringo accent, but anyone can recognize what +he means. + +"For three years I am waiting for him to learn a new word, any word. +_Si. No. Pan. Mantequilla._ Right now, I'd settle for just one new +word. + +"In the beginning, when I was green in the business of diplomacy, I was +younger and more optimistic. Then I would not have settled for a word. I +wanted a whole new phrase. Nothing complicated, you understand. Any +simple phrase would have satisfied me. _Tiene usted un fósforo?_ Or +even--_Dónde está la sala de caballeros?_ But no. Tennyson's brook +burbles forever, and unto eternity J. Burton Skidmore will not learn +more than his three words, and damn it, he won't even learn how to speak +them correctly." + +"And you're still betting on him?" Hall asked. + +"What can I do?" Duarte said. "We stupid Mexican peons have such a deep +faith in mankind that we are always betrayed." + +"Here comes the Ambassador now." + +"_Oiga!_" Duarte stopped Skidmore, took his hand, and let loose a stream +of Mexican obscenities, spoken in dulcet, smiling tones. When he paused +for breath, Skidmore smiled genially, bowed slightly from the hips, and +said, "_Con mucho gusto_." + +Hall nearly collapsed with laughter when he and Duarte reached the +street. "You bastard," he said, "you'll kill me before my time." + +"Let's have a drink before you die." + +"Sure. But let's run over to the Bolivar first. I want to see if there's +a message. Besides, we could stand some fresh air." + +Duarte agreed. "I saw Fernandez and Vardieno trying to gas you," he +said. "You could use some air." + +"You're not kidding, Felipe." + +"How do you like the Falange in San Hermano?" + +"You mean Fernandez and his friends?" + +"Of course. That Pepito Fernandez, there is an _hijo de la chingada_ for +you, Mateo. Once, when he was keeping a woman in Paris ..." and Duarte +was off on a long hilarious story about the publisher and his lady of +the hour. He was still telling the story when they reached the darkened +Plaza de la Republica and Hall suggested that they cut across the +cobbles rather than walk two-thirds of the way around the square. + +Hall stepped off the sidewalk and took three steps before he noticed the +large Rolls-Royce bearing down on them with her throttle wide open and +her lights off. "Jump!" he shouted, but Duarte, who saw it first, had +already yanked Hall back to the sidewalk. + +"Get behind this pillar, quick!" Duarte had a small pistol in his hand. +He stood watching the Rolls roar across the Plaza and disappear into the +alley leading to the Avenida de la Liberacion. + +"It's almost like old times," Hall said. + +"He tried to kill you, Mateo." + +"Better put your gun away. And we'll have that drink first, I think." + +"I'm going to phone for a car from the Mexican Embassy from the next +phone, _chico_. Those bastards weren't playing." + +"Put the gun away. It was a bluff." + +"You mean you expected it?" + +"Hell, no! I didn't think it would take so soon. But they had no +intention of killing me tonight." + +"The Arrows?" + +"I think so." + +Duarte put the gun in his pocket. "I don't understand. It seems a little +too subtle for the Falange. Are you working for your government now?" + +"No. They turned me down. They said I was pro-Loyalist during the war. +Right now that makes you a Red in Washington. I'm traveling on my own." + +"On your own?" + +"I'm well-heeled. My last book sold like hell. So now I'm young Don +Quixote." + +"And your Sancho Panza?" + +"I have none. Or rather, I have thousands of them. Exiles. Taxi drivers. +Union leaders. Communists. First Secretaries of Mexican Embassies." + +"What are you after?" + +"The Falange." + +"Good. I can help you, _chico_." + +"You'll have to. Wait, I'm going into the hotel for a minute. Come on +along. I'll only be a second." + +Duarte took a seat in the lobby while Hall talked to Souza. There was +still no letter from Havana, but Souza had some information about the +Renault Androtten had used. "It is a for-hire car owned by the Phoenix +Garage on Reyes Street." + +"Can you find out who hired it the other night?" + +"That will not be so easy, _Compañero_ Hall. The mechanics in the +Phoenix are not union members. But we are trying to reach someone there. +Perhaps by tomorrow we will know." + +"There's something else you can find out. Perhaps from the Mechanics +Union. Find out how many Rolls-Royce roadsters there are in San Hermano. +I know it will be hard, but it's important." + +"I will try. Must you know soon?" + +"Very soon, Fernando. A Rolls-Royce roadster, it was painted black or +dark blue, I think, and just tried to run down Duarte and me in the +Plaza." + +Souza made some notes on a slip of paper. "Maybe we can find out +tonight," he said. + +"Good. I'll be back in an hour. Is Androtten in his room?" + +"No. He's been out all evening." + +Duarte knew a quiet little bar a few blocks from the Bolivar. "They call +it a lover's retreat," he said when they got there. "You can see why." +Most of the tables were surrounded with lattice walls, and those tables +which were occupied were monopolized by couples who looked into one +another's eyes and said little. + +"There's Ansaldo's _maricón_," Duarte laughed. "In the table at the +back. I know the boy who's with him, too. He's a blue blood from the +Vichy Embassy." + +Hall watched Marina and the French boy. They had pink drinks made with +gin and grenadine and raw eggs. The French boy was giggling. "The +bastards," Hall said. + +"Sit here and order a Cuba Libre for me," Duarte said. "I'm going to +phone for a car." + +Now that the action had begun, Hall felt better. The tension had been +broken. Hands were starting to be shown. Now the moves would come more +quickly, he thought, and they would be more definite in form. Diverse +facts would synthesize, and when the letter came from Havana, perhaps +the whole thing would start to form one pattern. + +"We can't talk here," Duarte said. "Let's have a drink and then, when my +car comes, we'll go to my house. I rented a place on the beach." + +"Sorry, boy. That's out tonight. Have to stick around the hotel." + +"But we should talk, Mateo." + +"I'll have breakfast with you at your house. Do you eat in?" + +"Sometimes. We'll eat in tomorrow morning." + +"Eight o'clock too early?" + +"No. I'll get you out of bed, Felipe. Well, here's to Mexico!" + + + + +_Chapter seven_ + + +It was not quite six when the phone next to Hall's bed rang and a tired +Souza said, "Your driver is on the way up to your room, Señor." + +Hall admitted Pepe a moment later. "What is it?" he asked. Unshaven, +heavy-eyed, the big Asturiano seemed thoroughly upset. + +"_Nada_," he said. "It is just time." He went to the window, locked the +shutters, and held his finger to his lips. With his other hand, he first +pointed to Ansaldo's room and then to his ear. + +"Oh," Hall said, raising his voice. "Thank you for waking me. Sit down +and have a smoke while I dress." He gave Pepe a pencil and a sheet of +paper. + +Pepe wrote: "The Englishman Fielding was killed three hours ago." + +"How?" Hall asked. + +The driver vigorously pointed to the street. "You will miss your train, +Señor," he said. + +"I'll hurry." Hall dressed quickly, shaved, and went downstairs with +Pepe. They got into the car and Pepe headed in the direction of the +railroad terminal. + +"Fielding was run down by an automobile near his house," Pepe said. + +"Was it a Rolls-Royce?" + +"I don't know. There was only one witness. An old woman. She said that +he was walking across the street and the automobile just hit him and +kept on going. She said it looked as if he walked into the car." + +"Who is the old woman?" + +"A farmer's wife. She was on her way to the market with a wagon of +meal." + +"Didn't she describe the car?" + +"I don't think so, Mateo. The Englishman died instantly. He had a gun in +his pocket when they found him. Didn't have a chance to use it against +his murderers." + +"Where are we going now?" + +"No place. I just pointed our noses toward the railroad for the benefit +of anyone watching us from the hotel." + +"Oh. I have an appointment at the beach at eight o'clock. Let's have +some coffee until we're ready to go." + +Pepe drove to a café near the Transport Union building. They found a +table in the back of the place. "Do you know any of the Englishman's +friends?" Hall asked. + +"Not many." + +"Did you know his friend Harrington?" + +The name left Pepe cold. He was certain that he had never met Harrington +or heard the name mentioned. Nor did he know anything about Fielding's +employees. "His secretary is a middle-aged Hermanita. She lives alone +with a parrot and minds her own business. I knew a man who was her lover +once, but that was fifteen years ago." + +"Do you know much about Felipe Duarte?" Hall asked. + +"Sure. But why?" + +"I'm to meet him at eight this morning." + +Pepe looked at the clock. "Then let's go," he said. "Sometimes Duarte is +like a crazy man, but he is a good friend." + +"Does he know you?" + +"We have met many times. Did you know him in Spain?" + +They went to the car, and Hall told Pepe about some of Duarte's +legendary feats in the war against the fascists. He was in the midst of +a story about the Ebro retreat when they reached Duarte's cottage. + +Duarte came to the door wearing a towel around his middle. "So you got +up?" he laughed. "And you got Pepe up, too! Come in and fill your guts." +He led them through the small living room, put on a pair of shorts and +mismated huaraches. + +"We'll all eat in the kitchen," he said. "I'll bet you forgot that I'm a +wonderful cook, Mateo." He served a twelve-egg omelet whose pungent +fires brought tears to Hall's eyes. + +"This is really going to kill me," Hall said. + +"The lousy gringo," Duarte said to Pepe. "He's got a gringo stomach." + +Pepe defended Hall loyally. After he had his coffee, he rubbed his +bristling beard and asked Duarte if he had a razor that could cut +through steel wire. Duarte took him to the bathroom. + +"Shave and bathe while I talk to Mateo," he said. + +When they were alone, Hall asked him if he knew Fielding. "Sure, I do. +He's the one English planter in South America who knows that the world +is round." + +"He's dead." Hall told Duarte all that he knew about Fielding's death, +and what little he knew about Fielding himself. Duarte listened in +stunned silence. + +"And you still think that attempt on you last night was a bluff?" he +asked when Hall was done. + +"I'm more convinced than ever that it was a bluff. But whoever drove +that car knew that an hour later Fielding was going to be killed by a +car. And I'll bet that it was not the same car that made a pass at us +last night." + +"Then you're hiding something from me, Mateo." + +"The hell I am. I'm going to tell you everything I know. Just give me a +chance. Do you know Juan Antonio Martinez?" + +"The young teacher?" + +Hall told Duarte about Juan Antonio's phone call to _Mundo Obrero_ and +how it reached the Cross and the Sword in a matter of minutes. +"Fernandez and his boy friends told me about the phone call at the +Embassy last night. They warned me that it meant the Reds were going to +prepare an attempt on my life. Now my cue is to run to them for help +because of the Rolls-Royce in the Plaza." + +"Will you go through with it?" + +"Tomorrow. But I don't like the idea. They don't act as if they knew +about my record in Spain. But it's crazy to think they're going to +remain in the dark." + +"What are you doing today?" + +"I'm catching the eleven o'clock train to Juarez. I have an idea I'll +come back with a pretty good line on the Cross and Sword camarilla." + +Duarte laughed. "I have an idea you'll come back from Juarez with +something else," he said. + +"Not today, Felipe. I'd like to, but not today." + +"She's a good piece." + +"Forget it. I'm after stronger meat today." + +"Like that nurse with the red hair?" + +"I'm serious, Felipe. And we haven't got much time. Listen, did you ever +hear of a guy named Harrington? Fielding said he was his associate, and +that he knew a lot about the Falange at the waterfront." + +The name meant nothing to Duarte. "But then, I didn't know Fielding too +well. I've only talked to him once; he wanted to find out if I had known +his son." + +"Well, you've got to find Harrington, if he exists," Hall said. "And one +other thing: Fielding had dinner with the new British Naval Intelligence +officer for this port the night before last." + +"Commander New?" + +"That's the guy. You've got to see New this morning. Better send a +messenger to the British Embassy with a sealed note. Don't use the +phone." + +"What do I say in the note?" + +"Anything. The idea is that you've got to stop the British Embassy from +raising a stink about Fielding for at least a week. Let the Falange +think the British Embassy accepts the police verdict on Fielding's +death. In the paper this morning the police described it as an +unfortunate accident." + +"Some accident!" + +"Act as if you know plenty when you see New. You'd better have him visit +you, Felipe. Tell him that in a week you'll have the true facts." + +"Will I?" + +"I don't know. Well, tell him you think you'll have the full facts. And +find out all you can about Harrington, if New knows anything. See if you +can arrange for me to meet Harrington." + +"I understand." Duarte looked at his watch and shouted to Pepe to get +out of the bathroom. "We've got to get started," he said to Hall. "If +I'm to stop Commander New, I'd better not lose any more time." + +"Good. Where will you be tonight at about nine? That's when the return +train gets in." + +"Call me right here. What name will you use? Pedro?" + +"Pedro is O.K." + +"If we have to meet tonight, I'll tell Pepe where we can do it. I'd +better tell him now. Have some more coffee while I dress, _chico_. And +don't worry." Duarte went upstairs. + +Hall endorsed a hundred-dollar money order and ran after Duarte. "One +other favor, Felipe. Ride to town with Pepe and me, and after I get out +at the railroad station, please force that Asturian mule to accept this +check. He's refused to take a cent from me since I'm in town--and I +found out how much gasoline is selling for in San Hermano." + + * * * * * + +The train to Juarez was on the line to the north which had been built in +Segura's time. The graft which had gone in to the building of the road +was now scattered over the far corners of the earth. Somewhere in Paris, +one of the chief contractors still lived on his share of the booty, +paying varying fees to the Nazis for butter and woolens. In New York, +one of Segura's army of illegitimate sons was studying medicine on the +proceeds of some shares in the line which had belonged to his mother. +Estates whose rolling lands touched the rails on either side belonged to +old Seguristas who had bought the lands with the money they had managed +to steal from the project. The money was gone, but the steel cars the +builders had bought in Indiana and Pennsylvania remained. It was still a +good railroad, and even though it now belonged to the government, the +trains not only ran on time but were much cleaner and charged lower +fares than before. + +Hall watched the green countryside until the rolling landscape and the +rhythm of the wheels made him drowsy. He turned away from the window, +opened his newspaper to stay awake. The news was vague. The bulletin +from the Presidencia stated simply that Ansaldo had spent four hours +with Tabio but had issued no verdict. Those were exactly the words, "no +verdict," and reading them again Hall grew angry. He tried to figure out +some foolproof way of cabling to Havana, but the censorship hazards were +too great. + +The inside pages had little of interest. Bits of international and +Washington news. A feature story from Mexico City on the great religious +revival that was sweeping Mexico and threatening the Marxist forces in +the government. This was in _El Imparcial_, and Hall recognized the +byline of the author, a prominent lieutenant of the Mexican fascist +leader, Gomez Morin. There was a full page of local society items, dry +stuff about weddings, dinners, parties, the goings and comings of the +smart set. And the inevitable puff story, this one about the "great and +noted lawyer" Benito Sanchez, about whom no one had ever heard a thing +and who would sink back into obscurity until he paid for another +personality feature at so much per column, cash on the barrel. Hall +forced himself through this flowery account of the lawyer's ancestry, +wit, humanitarianism, piety, fertility, education, patriotism, skill in +court, and kindness to his mother. Try as he could, the hack who wrote +this story had not been able to completely fill three columns, the +accepted length for such compositions. The bottom of the third column +had therefore been filled with a stock item in small type: "Ships +Arriving and Leaving Today and Tomorrow." + +Mechanically, Hall read the shipping notes. The _Drottning-holm_ was in +port. The _Estrella de Santiago_ was returning to Havana. Tomorrow, the +_Marques de Avillar_ was due from Barcelona. Tomorrow the _Ouro Preto_ +was sailing back to Lisbon. The _City of Seattle_ was now six days +overdue; U. S. Lines, Inc., had no explanation. Mails for the _Ouro +Preto_ closed at midnight. + +Hall turned the page and stopped. The rustle of the paper struck a +hidden chord in his mind. He turned back to the shipping news, read it +carefully. The _Marques de Avillar_ became as great as the _Normandie_ +and the _Queen Mary_ rolled into one. He recalled the conversation he +had overheard between Ansaldo and Marina. _Find out if they came +today.... Too dangerous to come by Clipper._ But by Spanish boat? + +He went back to the conversation. Yes, that was exactly the way they +talked. And after the talking came the rustling of a paper. Not +evidence, of course, and even in wartime you couldn't shoot two bastards +like them unless you knew more. But was it worth following up? Perhaps +Margaret Skidmore would be able to supply another piece of the jigsaw. +She had a sharp tongue, and this meant a sharp head. Sharp and tough, +and Felipe was probably right about her other value, but if it happened +at all it would have to happen when this mess was cleared up. + +The train pulled into Juarez on time. Hall got off and gaped at the +station. It was covered from ground to roof with the blazing "tiger +vines" whose orange orchid-shaped flowers were the unofficial flag of +the country. Margaret was waiting for Hall under the station shed. "Hi," +she shouted, "have a nice trip?" + +"Swell. Let me look at you under the sunlight." In a tennis eye shade, +green sports dress, and rope-soled _zapatos_ she seemed to be more of a +woman than she was in evening clothes. + +"Well?" + +"You'll do," he laughed. "It's just that evening clothes rarely reveal +more than the size of a woman's shopping budget." + +Margaret laughed easily. "You mean that you can't tell whether a girl in +an evening gown has knock knees or a wooden leg. I have neither. There's +my car. That little jalopy." + +"How far is your place from the station?" Hall asked. + +"It starts right here." Margaret pointed to a green field to the left of +the road. "I have four thousand acres between the tracks and the main +house, and then there's a lot of scrub forest behind the house that +belongs to me." + +"All yours?" + +The car was raising great clouds of dust on the dry dirt road. "Uh huh. +The money came from Mother's side of the family. Since she died, I more +or less keep the old man in embassies. She left him only cigarette +money." She was very cold and matter of fact about it. + +"I see," he said. + +"Don't be so shocked. I always talk the way I feel. The old man's a +stuffed shirt and you know it. If he hadn't married money the best he'd +get out of life would be a career as a floor-walker in Macy's. No, he's +too aristocratic for Macy's. In Wanamaker's Philadelphia store. Do me a +favor. There's a big heavy ledger in the side door pocket. Take it out +and put it on my lap. No, with the binding facing the radiator. Thanks." + +"What's it for?" + +She opened the front ventilator in the cowl. The gush of wind which +poured in lifted her skirt to the edge of the book. "See?" she said. +"Keeps my skirt from blowing over my head when I open the vent." + +Hall glanced at her bare legs. "Some day you'll catch cold," he smiled. +"What have you got planted on your land? Looks to me like soy." + +"It is soy. Three thousand acres." + +"That makes you a farmer." + +"The hell it does. That makes me an Ambassador's daughter. The +Rockefeller committee planted it, with local help, of course. It's part +of a demonstration project. The idea is to teach them how to grow new +crops so that after the war Detroit can keep the home price on soy down +by importing just enough soy to keep it growing in South America. All I +did was donate my land." + +"What happens to the proceeds when you sell the crop?" + +"Oh, I suppose the old man will make a big show of donating the proceeds +to the Red Cross in San Hermano." + +"That the house?" + +"That's my hideaway. The old man can't come out here. He's violently +allergic to soy beans." + +She started to talk about the soy-bean project and the by-products of +its crop. The words flowed without effort. She knew the facts, the +theories, the statistics, the chemistry of the soy-bean industry as well +as she knew the road to her house. She discussed them as she might +yesterday's weather, or a neighbor's dog. I don't give a damn about soy +beans, she seemed to be saying, I just know about them because I was +roped in to lend my land and I'll be damned if I'll give my land without +knowing why. + +"Well, that's enough talk about soy, I guess," she said when she turned +off the road to the lane leading to her house. + +"I don't imagine there's anything else to know about it," Hall said. + +"Here we are, Matt." + +"Say, it is a nice house." + +"Hollow tile and stucco. I found the plans in an old issue of _House and +Garden_." + +"I'll be damned. It looks as Spanish as the Cathedral." + +"Oh, it should," Margaret said. "It's supposed to be an authentic New +Mexican ranch house. Let's go in and get a drink." + +Like the railroad station, the house was also covered with tiger vines. +It was built around a flagstone patio. Leaded glass doors opened from +the patio to the two-story-high beamed living room, the kitchen, and the +back corridor. This corridor opened on both the living room and the +stairs to the upstairs quarters. Inside, the living room was furnished +like a quality dude ranch--hickory and raw-hide furniture, Mexican +_serapes_ and dress sombreros hanging on the walls and over the large +stone fireplace, a Western plank bar with a battered spittoon at the +rail and a lithograph of the Anheuser-Busch Indians scalping General +Custer. The saloon art classic, of course, hung in a yellow oak frame +behind the bar. + +"Holy God," Hall said, "when I was a kid this litho used to give me +nightmares. It used to hang in the dirty window of Holbein's saloon on +West Third Street in Cleveland--that's my home town--and every time I +passed it I used to see more gore pouring down old Custer's throat." + +Margaret took off her eye shade and went behind the bar. "A drink should +drive away that terrible memory," she said. "Scotch?" + +"Black rum, if you have it." + +"Coming right up. That's a pirate's drink, though. Although when you +come right down to it, you do look like a freebooter." + +Hall had his foot on the bar. "Better smile when you say that, Pard," he +said. + +She smiled out of the side of her mouth and laughed. "Here's to Captain +Kidd," she said, raising her Scotch. + +"This is good rum." + +"Wait. I can improve it." She reached below the bar for a small wooden +platter and a lemon. Deftly, she carved off a slice of thick skin, +twisted it above an empty glass, dropped the peel into the glass and +covered it with rum. "Try it this way." + +"It is good. So you're a bartender, too!" + +Margaret refilled her own glass and sat down on the edge of a wheeled +settee. "Right now I'm farmer, bartender, chambermaid and cook. If you +must know, outside of the dogs in the yard and the horses in the shed, +we're the only living things within five miles. All my help is in the +next town celebrating some saint's day or something." + +"You'll manage to survive," Hall smiled. + +"I'm a pretty self-sufficient lady," she said. "Or hadn't you noticed?" + +"I'm not blind." + +"Hungry?" + +"I could eat. What's cooking?" + +"Sandwiches. Cold beef sandwiches and coffee. And if you're nice you can +have some _montecado à la_ Skidmore." + +"Real ice cream?" + +"No. But a reasonable facsimile. Let's go to the kitchen. You can help +me carry the tray and stuff." + +They ate at the monastery table in the living room. Margaret told Hall +the story of how she had supervised the building of the house and then +ordered her furniture from a dozen different stores between Houston and +San Hermano. She spoke of plumbing and artesian wells and wiring systems +with the same detailed knowledge she had displayed of soy-bean culture. + +"Do you know San Hermano politics as well as you know soy beans and +housing?" he asked. + +"Better," she smiled. "I'm closer to it. But we've got plenty of time to +talk about San Hermano. I thought we'd saddle up two horses and go for a +ride in the backwoods. Do you ride?" + +"After a fashion. I spent a summer vacation as a ranch hand in Wyoming +once." + +Margaret concentrated on Hall's feet for a minute. "Oh, I can fix you up +with boots and breeches. You sit here and I'll go on up, change, and +find you riding things. Just turn on a radio and relax or fix yourself a +drink while I'm changing." + +She went upstairs to her room. Hall lit his pipe, turned on the radio. +He found a program of Mexican marimba music. + +"That's swell," Margaret shouted through the open transom of her door. + +He could hear the water splashing into the bath upstairs. He lay back +and closed his eyes, the radio keeping him awake. In San Hermano, the +announcer looked at the studio clock, gave the station's call letters, +and read another "no change" bulletin on the health of the President. + +"Matt ..." + +"Ready so soon?" + +"Come on up to my room. It's the third door to the left of the stairs." + +"Sure." + +"Would you shut off the radio, too?" + +He flipped the radio switch and climbed the stairs to the upper landing. +Margaret's door was slightly ajar. "That you, Matt?" + +"The old pirate himself." He pushed the door open. + +Margaret was standing near her bed, freshly bathed and completely naked. +"I changed my mind," she said, thickly. + +"Margaret ..." + +"No. Don't talk." She had her arms around him, her mouth against his +lips. The pine salts of her bath and the sharp perfume in her hair and +behind her ears choked in Hall's throat. + +"You're biting my lips," she said. + +He picked her up and carried her to the bed while she undid the buttons +of his shirt with closed eyes and steady fingers. "I knew you were a +pirate," she smiled. + +Hall kicked his shoes off, drew the blinds. + +"Are you surprised?" she asked. + +He locked the door and joined Margaret. "Don't talk," he said. "You kiss +too well to talk in bed." + +There was the pine scent and the perfume and the savage odor of whisky +on hot breath and then there was the faint saline taste of blood on his +tongue and the rigid breasts of the girl pressed against his bare skin +and she was trying to gasp an insane gibberish of love words and sex +words and sounds that were not words at all. He shut off the gibberish +with his hard mouth and then he started to lose himself in the devils +that were coursing through his blood and the sharp pain of her nails +digging fitfully into the back of his shoulders and the taut smoothness +of her writhing thighs. For a searing moment the emptiness and the +agonies of the past four years rose to the surface like a two-edged +razor in his brain, rose slashing wildly to torture and torment, and +then, as suddenly, they were lost in the devils and the blood and the +white, pine-scented thighs of the girl and Hall stopped thinking and +gave himself completely to the one, to the only one, to the only thing +that could answer the devils and the pain and the moment. + +Then she lay at his side, limp, whispering, "God, oh my God, oh my God," +and smiling at him with tear-filled eyes. + +"Hello." + +"Was I good? Was I, Matt?" + +And he realized how adept she actually was at it. Sex was a soy bean, +something you used, developed, exploited. "You're very good at this sort +of thing," he said, "and you know it." + +"I'm not always good," she said. "This is one thing that takes two for +perfection. Like now." She reached into the drawer of the night table. +"Cigarette?" + +"No." + +"Light mine for me, darling. I'm half dead." + +She smoked her cigarette in happy, satisfied silence, moving closer to +Hall and putting her free arm under his neck. Then, with an abrupt +movement, she ground the butt into the ash tray and kissed the scar on +Hall's chin. "Who cut you up?" she asked. "Some Frenchwoman's husband?" +But before he could answer she was lying on his chest with her open +mouth pressing heavily against his lips. + +This time he could ignore the devils until the hot furies that +drove the girl finally moved him to respond. But what had earlier +been an experience which reached in and shook the guts was now a +performance--overture, theme, variations, theme and soaring climax and +maybe it was what she wanted and maybe it wasn't but baby that's the +best you get this trip. When it was done she seemed happy enough. She +smoked another cigarette and then she fell into a light sleep, her head +nuzzling under his arm pit like a puppy's. + +Hall lay watching the sun rays as they stretched between the shuttered +windows and the smoothness of Margaret's glistening back. + +"What are you thinking about?" she asked when she awoke. + +"Really want to know?" + +"Uh huh." + +"About a girl from Ohio." + +"Your wife?" + +"No. Just a girl I know. I've been wondering if she has freckles on her +back." + +"Well, anyway, you're frank." + +"When are you going back to San Hermano?" + +"Tonight. I'll drive you back. I think we should get ready. The help +might start straggling back in an hour or so." She kissed him tenderly, +then savagely. "No, but this is silly," she said. "We'll get caught." +She rolled away and got out of bed. + +Later in the living room, Margaret made two rum drinks. She had changed +her tennis dress for a dark suit, and her fingers now carried three +elaborate rings. "Now I'm dressed for town again," she laughed. "Without +my rings I'd feel naked." One of them was a wedding ring; Hall asked no +questions about it. + +"Are you still interested in San Hermano politics?" Margaret asked. + +"Sort of." + +"What do you want to know?" + +"Everything. Fernandez and his friends had one set of ideas. I guess you +know what they are. The Tabio crowd speaks differently. What's the +lowdown?" + +Margaret went to the wide window of the room. "Look," she said, "see all +that land between the fence and the top of that hill? I've got some of +it in soy and the rest is just lying fallow. What do you think it's +worth?" + +"I couldn't say." + +"Neither can anyone else. That all depends on the politics down here." + +"That's true back home too, isn't it?" + +"In a way, yes." She poured another drink for herself and sat down on +the settee. "I'll let you in on a secret, Matt. I'll tell you how I came +to buy this place. Sit down. It's a long story. And it leads right into +the thing you're interested in." + +"When did you get it?" + +"Two years ago. A young mining engineer in San Hermano met me at a party +given at the University. He wanted me to put him in touch with an +American financing outfit. On a field trip he had undertaken as a +student, the young engineer inadvertently stumbled across a treasure in +manganese. The deposits lay in an area he alone could reveal, and for a +consideration and a share in the profits, he was willing to lead the +right parties to the site of his discovery. + +"I became the right party," Margaret said. "The soy is growing over a +fortune in manganese." + +"What happened to the young engineer?" + +"He's in the States. I got him a scholarship in a good mining school. +When he gets out, he'll be able to run the works down here." + +"You don't miss a trick, do you?" + +"Darling," she laughed, "my grandfather didn't come up from a plow on +his muscles alone. But why don't you ask me why I'm not mining my +manganese now?" + +"I suppose that's where the politics comes in," he said. + +"Now you're catching on. You see, Matt, anyone who didn't know the score +down here might start mining like mad. There's a war on, the Germans +have grabbed most of Russia's manganese fields, and Russia had a +practical corner on the world's manganese supply. It's almost worth its +weight in platinum today." + +"Then why in the hell don't you cash in?" + +"Because I intend to live for a long time after the war, darling. And +I'd like something for my old age. Not inflation-swelled war dollars, +but real hard money. That's where the politics comes in, Matt. It costs +like hell to start a mine. I'd have to dip into my reserves to get it +started, or get partners and let them pay for the works. But they +wouldn't do it for nothing. They'd wind up with an unhealthy share of +the profits. This is my baby, and under certain circumstances I can run +it by myself and make money at it. But those circumstances are +determined by the politics here." + +"By that," Hall said, "I take it you mean Tabio's politics?" + +Margaret was not smiling now. Her eyes had narrowed down to sharp slits, +and although she talked as fluently about the mine and Tabio as she had +earlier discussed soy beans, her voice had taken on a sharp, metallic +edge. "I most certainly do," she said. + +"Then you agree with Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd?" + +"Now don't tell me," she said, wearily, "that they are all a bunch of +dirty fascists." + +"I'm not telling you a thing. I'm here to get the lowdown, not to hang +labels on everyone in San Hermano." + +"Thank God for that," she said. "I can give you the lowdown, if you +really want it." + +"That's what I'm here for." + +"I'm so sick of these smart-aleck pundits who are so quick to hang the +fascist label on everything they don't like," Margaret said. "I'm not +afraid of labels. I'm only interested in the facts. I'm interested in my +manganese operation. I'm interested in protecting what I have. And I'll +fight against anyone who tries to steal what's rightfully mine." + +"You've been threatened?" + +"Not directly. That's the hell of it. If not for me, or someone else +with as much money to risk as I'm risking, this manganese would be +useless to everyone. But I'm not going to sink a fortune into the mine +only to have the cream taken away from me." + +"By Tabio?" + +A slight smile touched Margaret's lips. "Not exactly," she said. "I'm a +little more rational than Fernandez and his friends. It's not Tabio I'm +afraid of, darling. It's the thing he's started. You don't open a few +thousand schools all over a backward country and then expect the people +to remain the same. It's not only the kids who go to these schools; +grown-ups pack the same school houses every night. People don't want +things they don't know about. But when they go to school they start +learning about a million things they'd like to have--and none of these +are free. They begin to want modern houses and radios and refrigerators +and pianos--you have no idea what they begin to want, Matt! + +"The schools are only the beginning. Once the miners learn how to read +and write, the unions come along and flood them with printed propaganda +about higher wages. They tell the miners that higher wages mean higher +standards of living." + +"Don't they?" Hall asked. + +"Not for the mine owners, dear," she said. "Higher wages mean lower +profits. And when you run a mine, the idea is to keep the profits up. +That's where the politics come in, Matt. You don't pass laws--as the +Popular Front has--forcing employers to bargain with the unions without +making the unions so powerful that they can and do elect whole blocs of +union deputies and senators. And then these blocs push through laws on +hospitalization and social security and death benefits that cut into a +mine owner's profits nearly as much as the wage increases. + +"In other words, Matt, it all boils down to dollars and cents. Tabio and +his ideas are great vote-catchers--but the costs are enormous. And these +costs don't come out of the pockets of the people who vote for the +Popular Front candidates." + +Hall watched her in fascination as she spoke. This was no mystic Pilar +Primo de Rivera, he thought, no hyper-thyroid hysteric falling on her +knees in the cathedral and then rushing out with blood in her eyes and +emptying a Mauser full of bullets into the warm bodies of housewives +shopping in the Madrid slums. Margaret's voice had not risen by one +note. Her hands were calm, she was still relaxed in the settee. If not +for the hard sharpness of her voice now, she might still be discussing +soy-bean culture or anything else as remote from her true interests. + +"Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd might be hysterical," Margaret +said, "but they are on the right track. The government has to change +quickly, or it will be too late for all of us. The Cross and Sword crowd +aren't really natives, you know. They're Spaniards. They got the scare +of their lives when Tabio's Spanish counterparts took over in Spain." + +"But why? They live here. Spain is an ocean away." + +"Money has a way of crossing oceans," Margaret said. "They all had +plenty invested in Spain. If Franco hadn't come along, Vardieno and +Davila and Quinones and a lot of other men you haven't met would have +been wiped out." + +"Isn't Franco a fascist?" + +"Labels don't mean a thing. I think democracy is the phoniest label in +the world, Matt. When it means a stable government, like we used to have +back home before the New Deal, I'm for it. But when it means the first +step on the road to collectivism, I'll take any Franco who comes along +to put an end to it. That goes for the Cross and Sword crowd, too. Or am +I all wrong?" + +Hall laughed, softly. "That's a rhetorical question," he said. "Let's +skip the rhetoric. Then things are really bad down here, aren't they?" + +"They couldn't be much worse. I know it sounds harsh, but I think the +best thing Tabio could do for his country would be to die. With Gamburdo +in the Presidencia, you'd see a return to something resembling sanity +down here. He has a very sound approach." + +"But wouldn't he be too late? What could he do about the school system, +for instance?" + +"The Cross and Sword crowd want the schools closed down at once. They +want education returned to the Church. But Gamburdo is a good +politician," Margaret said. "He'd keep the schools open, but he'll clean +out the Ministry of Education from the very top down to the personnel of +the village schools. He'll simply turn it over to the Jesuits. They +won't have to open their own parochial schools; they'll control +Tabio's." + +"Have they enough teachers?" + +"Gamburdo told me that if they need teachers they'll import them from +Spain." + +"How about the labor laws?" + +"A law is no better than its enforcement. That's what I learned in law +school and it still goes. Can you imagine what would happen to the +Wagner Act if Hoover were back in the White House?" + +"You don't need too much of an imagination to figure that one out," Hall +said. + +"Of course," Margaret said, "Gamburdo will need more finesse than a +Hoover." There was the little matter of the arms everyone knew were in +the hands of the miners in the north. There was also the still painful +memory of the one-day general strike called by the transport workers and +the longshoremen when the Supreme Court delayed its decision on the +validity of the Tabio labor codes. Gamburdo, she explained, would have +to plan his acts like a military strategist. "Because unless he does, he +will need a military strategist to pull him out of the hole." + +"You don't mean a civil war?" + +That was exactly what Margaret did mean. But Gamburdo had a plan for +averting such a war, or, if it had to come, to guarantee the victory for +the forces of sound government when the issue was drawn. He would begin +gradually by restoring to their army commissions the old officers +trained in Segura's military college. This he would do before attempting +to circumvent the labor laws. "Then, when the war ends in Europe, a lot +of good professional military leaders will be out of jobs," she said. +"Gamburdo plans to give them jobs." + +"How about the troops? Will they be loyal to the new order?" + +Gamburdo had provided for this, too. The army would have the best of +everything; it would be made more attractive than life as a miner or a +soy-bean cultivator. "But a boy will have to have the O.K. of his priest +before he will be taken in. And what a priest learns at confession is +nothing to be ignored. The Church will keep the unreliable elements out +of the army." Once he had an army, Gamburdo would then be ready to +restore sound government in the nation. + +"He's a clever guy," Hall said. "I had a hunch he was the coming strong +man on the continent when I applied for an interview." + +Margaret thought that this was very funny. "Don't be a child," she +laughed. "He won't admit to anything like this for publication." + +"That doesn't matter. What counts in my business is that I'll be on +record as the first American to interview him, and that I'll get the +credit for discovering him before his name is a household word." + +"Right now all he'll talk is platitudes. But you might get him to talk +off the record. He's gotten around to telling me things. And stop +looking at your watch. I'll lock up and we can start back to town at +once. You'll be back in plenty of time to sleep with her tonight." + +"With whom?" + +"Whoever you have that date with. I know I should be nasty about it. But +I never demanded fidelity and I always hated men who demanded it of me. +That's the way we both are, darling, and as long as it goes off as good +as it did upstairs today we can expect to do it often." She left the +settee, walked over to Hall's chair, and kissed his ear. He slapped her +trim buttocks, shouted, "Cut it out!" + +"Let's get going," she said. "Time's a-wasting." + +Hall thought, as Margaret drove him back to San Hermano, that Pepe +Delgado would have approved of her skill as a driver just as much as he +would disapprove of her politics. The ledger on her lap, she pushed the +roadster through hairpin curves and back-country roads with a confidence +as cold as her reasoning about her manganese properties. + +"I'll walk to my hotel from the Embassy," he said, when they reached the +suburbs of San Hermano. "I could stand a little walk." + +"So you're meeting her in the lobby," Margaret laughed. She kissed him +fondly when she stopped the car near the Embassy. "Darling," she said, +"don't ask me to the Bolivar. But I have to go back to the farm in a few +days. I'll let you know ahead of time, and we can have a night +together." + +"Call me," Hall said. "Or I'll be calling you." + +An hour later he met Duarte in the home of one of the secretaries of the +Cuban Embassy. The Mexican had borrowed the home for the evening. "We +have at least two hours to talk here," Duarte told Hall. "My friend is +at the cinema." + +Duarte opened two bottles of cold beer, set one before Hall. He took a +long look at Hall and burst into laughter. "Did she give you any +information, Mateo?" + +"You bastard," Hall said. + +Felipe Duarte doubled over with laughter. "Mateo the Detective!" he +chortled. + +"O.K.," Hall laughed. "So I was raped." + +"Raped is the right word, _chico_." + +"When did she take you into her bed, Felipe?" + +"Long ago. My first week in San Hermano. Then once more after that. I +gave way for an American aviator who came here to sell planes to the +government. He was succeeded in a week by two men, a local _señorito_ +named Madariaga and the First Secretary of the French Embassy. After +that I just stopped noticing." + +"Who is her husband?" + +"She has no husband." + +"She was wearing a wedding ring, Felipe." + +"That's a new development. I never heard of her having a ring or a +husband." + +"She's a very clever girl, Felipe. And a confirmed fascist." + +"She's only a rich _puta_, Mateo. The hell with her." + +"She might be useful, Felipe. What happened to you today? Did you learn +anything?" + +Duarte shrugged his shoulders. He had little real information. "I saw +Commander New. He looked down his nose at me during our whole interview, +and then, like an English trader, he started to bargain with me. About +the week, I mean. He said that a week was too long. He would only give +me three days. Then--if I gave him no more information than you got from +the _puta_ today, he goes to the police." + +"That's not so good." + +"Who knows? The counsellor of the British Embassy spent the whole day +going through Fielding's files with the widow. If they found those +reports you saw that night, maybe the Intelligence officer will give us +that full week." + +"Did you find out anything about Harrington?" + +"Commander New never heard of him, he says. Then I thought I would make +a real surprise for you. Souza arranged with some smart boys to search +Ansaldo's room with a fine comb. But they combed not a louse, Mateo. +They found nothing of interest except that Ansaldo's _maricón_ is a +morphine addict." + +Hall lit a black cigar from the Cuban's private collection. "Where the +hell is my letter from Havana?" he said. + +"Take it easy, _chico_." Duarte opened a fresh bottle of beer for his +friend. + +"I'll be all right," Hall said. "I won't explode tonight." + +Duarte recalled an earlier occasion in a Madrid hospital, when a phone +call from the Paris office of the AP had made Hall lose his head. "To my +dying day," he told Hall, "I'll never forget those curses that shot out +of your guts." + +"Don't remind me," Hall said. "I get sick when I think of it again. That +was the time they held up my story on Guadalajara because they weren't +satisfied that I had definite proof that the troops captured by the +Republic were Italian regulars." + +The Mexican laughed. It was a laugh made bitter by the silver plate in +his skull. It covered an injury he had suffered in fighting the Italian +regulars at Guadalajara. + +Hall understood. "There are too many bastards in this world," he said. +"I wish curses alone could stop them. But we've got work to do. Pepe +didn't bring me here. He was busy on something else. I'll have to use +your driver. Have him drive me to some decent restaurant. I wish you'd +come along too." + +"Why didn't you tell me you're hungry?" + +"I forgot. But there's one thing your driver can do for us. Do you know +where the Compañía Transatlántica Española pier is located? Good. Just +have him drive very slowly past the pier on the way. I want to look it +over." + + + + +_Chapter eight_ + + +Shortly after eight in the morning, Hall sat down at a table in a +waterfront café and ordered coffee and rolls. It was a small place with +a zinc bar in one corner, patronized largely by longshoremen and petty +customs officials. Hall chose a table which gave him a good view of the +Compañía Transatlántica Española dock diagonally across the street. + +On the dock there were the unmistakeable signs that the _Marques de +Avillar_ was coming in on time. Minor customs officials in their blue +uniforms stood around in small, important looking knots, their hands +filled with papers and bundles of official forms. The passenger +gangplank, with the line's name splashed on its canvas sides in crimson +and gold letters, had been hauled on to the pier and lay waiting like a +rigid, outstretched hand for the incoming ship. A row of motley cabs +were lined up facing the pier, their drivers dozing or reading the +morning papers behind their wheels as they waited for the business from +the ship. Pepe was not only one of these drivers, but through the +transport union he had arranged to fill the cab line with trustworthy +anti-fascist drivers. + +Hall could see Pepe slouched behind the wheel of the LaSalle, his white +cap pushed way to the back of his massive head. The cab strategy was +Pepe's inspiration. It did away with the necessity of following any of +the cabs which picked up passengers whose moves might be of interest to +Hall. As a further precaution, Souza had arranged through members of his +union to get an instant line on any of the _Marques de Avillar_ +passengers who registered at a San Hermano hotel that day. + +A letter written in Spanish with purple ink in a fine, delicate woman's +hand lay on the metal table between the butter pat and the carafe of +water. Hall read it again as he stirred his coffee. + +"Beloved Mateo," the letter began, and Hall chuckled at Santiago's +current dodge, "Why did you leave me so suddenly without even giving me +a chance to explain? It is you and you alone whom I love, _cariño_, and +any thoughts that you have to the contrary you must banish from your +dear head at this instant. Oh, _cariño_, since you left without a +further word I have had no rest, no peace, no sleep...." He skimmed +through the first two pages of such protestations, then carefully reread +the casual lines: "You are so wrong; it is true that I did know the +doctor before, but he was never my lover. I knew him only because he +treated dear Carlos, but as a man I hate and detest him. How can I tell +you again that you are wrong, that he is an abomination not only in my +eyes but also in the eyes of my entire beloved family?" + +Nearly three lachrymose pages of love frustrated followed these lines. +"And so before I close my letter, I must beg you to drop everything if +you love me and fly back to Havana, even if only for a day. Oh, my +beloved, if you would only come back to Havana for one day, I am sure +that I can resolve all the doubts that are in your mind, Mateo. In the +name of all that we have shared, of all that is dear and sacred to us, +please fly back to my arms, my love, my kisses--and then you will know!" +The letter was signed, "Maria." + +Hall folded the letter carefully and put it in his wallet. It told him +what he wanted to know about Ansaldo. _He treated dear Carlos--he is an +abomination in the eyes of my beloved family._ Santiago's style as a +writer of love letters might be a little on the turgid side, but he knew +how to make himself clear. And nothing could be clearer than his line on +Ansaldo. An abomination. A man who marched with the men who put that +fascist bullet through the throat of Uncle Carlos. A bastard. + +The dock was growing more crowded. Over the near horizon, a ship pointed +its high white face at San Hermano. A long throaty whistle came from its +front funnel. Then five short blasts, and in a moment the tugs which had +been getting up steam in the harbor were heading out toward the growing +ship. + +"The _Marques de Avillar_," someone at the bar said. A customs man at a +near-by table gulped the remainder of his coffee and bolted to the pier. +At the bar, a laughing longshoreman pushed a five-centavo coin into the +nickeled red juke box, pressed the "_Bésame_" button. Johnny Rodrigues +_y su_ Whoopee Kids. Two guitars, a cornet, maracas, sticks and a +lugubrious baritone. "_Bésame, bésame mucho_ ..." the raucous blaring of +a klaxon at the pier ... "_la última vez_" ... again the horn drowned +out the words. + +Hall looked up at the cabs, ignoring the Whoopee Kids' baritone. A +slender young man in a green jacket and cream-colored slacks was +standing near the foot of the gangplank. Pepe had taken off his white +hat. Hall kept his eyes glued on Pepe until the man in the green jacket +turned around, revealing himself as Dr. Marina. + +One of the white sedans of the Ministry of Health pulled up at the pier. +A doctor and two assistants, the three men wearing the light tan uniform +of their service, got out and started to talk to a customs man. He +pointed at the white ship being shoved toward the pier by the little +tugs. + +Hall drank in the tableau, his eyes following Marina's every move, his +ears deaf to the next record being played in the juke box. + +"_Otro café, señor?_" + +"_Si, gracias._" + +But the fresh pot of hot coffee remained untouched. Hall was still +watching Marina, but Marina did nothing except shift from foot to foot +while he watched the Spanish liner draw nearer the pier with every turn +of the heroic little engines in the two tugs. Hall thought of Jerry. He +had missed her again last night, but they had a date for dinner at +seven. Doctor had promised her a night off. The messages at the hotel: +José Fernandez had phoned, wanted Hall to call him back this morning. +O.K., Don José, as soon as I get a good look at the rats Marina is +awaiting. I want to hear more about the Red menace hanging over my head. +And Souza had an interesting tab on Androtten. The little Dutchman had +stayed out all night. Naughty, naughty, Wilhelm, gadding about with +_putas_ the whole night through and God knows where you are sleeping it +off but I guess your little dog is watching to see that no one rolls you +for your wad. Or wasn't it a debauch that kept you out all night? +Anyway, I'll bet you made your rounds in a Renault you rented from the +Phoenix Garage. + +The _Marques de Avillar_ was being eased into its dock. The cab drivers +were waving at the passengers lined up at the rail, and Marina was +hopping up and down, shouting and waving a big yellow handkerchief like +a banner. The coffee _por favor_ has grown cold and _por favor_ a pot of +hot _por favor_ and that's the idea _muchas gracias_ and you could have +docked the _Marques_ in my last yawn. Hall drank a steaming cup of hot +coffee. + +The gangplank was being wheeled to the ship. There was a knot of ship's +officers on the lower deck. They shook hands with the customs men and +the medicos who trotted up the gangplank, led them inside to the main +salon. Men in blue uniforms with official papers under their arms. A +press photographer and a bald roly-poly reporter. They'll be out in a +minute, and damn it the morning sun is growing too bright for a pair of +tired old eyes, and dipping his napkin in the fresh cold water on the +table Hall shoved the cold compress against his heavy eyes. + +Two cups of coffee later, the first of the passengers from the _Marques +de Avillar_ emerged from the salon and walked down the gangplank. +Priests--Hall counted twenty--followed by scrawny stewards with their +bags. A few of the priests were old, but most of them were young men who +carried themselves erect, their shoulders squared well back, their walk +the off-duty walk of the officer on leave from the front. Hall wondered +how many of the younger men in clerical collars were really priests and +how many of them were used to wearing other uniforms. He remembered the +day, less than two months earlier, when the C.T.E. liner _Cabo de +Hornos_ had docked in Havana and one of General Benitez' men had grown +suspicious of two of the Spanish priests on board; a brief discussion of +theology had been followed by a thorough search of their luggage, and +the young travelers woke up the next morning to find themselves learning +theology in the concentration camp on the Isla de Pinas. + +Hall was humming "Onward, Christian Soldiers." He watched two young +priests get into Pepe's cab and be driven away. The priests, and later +four nuns, entered the cabs in pairs. Then, following some customs men, +one of the ship's officers came out of the salon with a man in a black +suit and a Panama hat. They carried thick portfolios under their arms, +and behind them followed a steward with two heavy hand trunks. + +There was a blur of green and yellow on the gangplank, and then Marina +was on the lower deck, exchanging wild embraces with the ship's officer +and the man in the Panama hat. The three men walked down the gangplank, +Marina happily bringing up the rear behind the officer. He darted in +front of his friends when they reached the pier and signaled one of the +cabs. The first cab in line rolled up to the curb and picked them up. + +The sun shone into Hall's face. He washed his eyes with cold water, had +another cup of coffee. Thick, the air is growing thick and heavy. Hell +with it. Olive oil and garlic, coffee, squids, mussels, saffron, +mackerel, heat. "_Bésame_" on the juke box again. Don't run off just +yet. Look at the watch. Start to get impatient. _Hombre de negocios_ +waiting for a colleague to work out a deal. A ton of coffee, three box +cars of ore, a round ton of sugar. He's way overdue and you're getting +impatient, but you don't leave yet. You don't leave and show the little +dog wherever he or his partners are hiding that you had breakfast here +this morning just to keep an eye on the _Marques de Avillar_. No, señor, +you would not be as careless as the faggot. No, señor, oh no, señor, +only the air is getting thicker and somewhere in the kitchen someone is +looking at me and laughing I swear it I swear it only I can't help it +this is the only face I have. + +Soft laughter. Eyes looking in his direction. The now blazing sun. The +flags on the mast of the white ship; crimson and gold of Fernando e +Isabel, the triangular pennant of the C.T.E., and the mucking five +arrows of the Falange floating insolently in the breeze over the heart +of a democracy. Don't leave too soon. Look at your watch again and curse +the mucking _hombre de negocios_ who's holding up your big deal. And +what was the name of the C.T.E. radio officer from the _Ciudad de +Sevilla_ whom poor old Fielding had in his report? Jimenez, Eduardo +Jimenez, thank God, my memory for names is like a sponge and what would +you say if the ship's officer who got that _abrazo de amor_ from the +faggot was C.T.E. Radio Officer Jimenez and damn the sun and damn the +olive oil on the hot stove chunks of garlic and squid floating in the +hot oil and stinking up the thick murky air and it's cooler with the +collar open. + +Eyes looking at him from the kitchen. Soft laughter. Some joke. Hall is +cockeyed on _café con leche_ and what's that it's the cup you lug and +what's that it's the coffee spilling all over your pants and if those +empty-faced bastards in the kitchen don't stop laughing I'll get right +up from the floor and put a right cross through their lousy guts. That's +just the ticket. Clip them with the old right, like the time in San +Sebastian when the gonzo with the feather in his hat made the mistake of +getting within range. Watch the old right, keed, watch the old K.O. +sockeroo. Watch it, watch it, don't forget to duck. WATCH IT! + + * * * * * + +The driver of the rickety four-wheeled bus was thumping time with fat +brown fingers on the rim of the heavy wheel. He didn't sing, just sat in +his bucket seat with the faded flowered cretonne slip cover (bet you a +good dinner his wife sewed it for him when he got the job) and thumped +time. The kid with the guitar in the front seat was doing the singing. +"Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." He was a nice kid and drunk as a loon, but sweet +and happy drunk. Nothing ugly about the kid. "Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." + +"Why is he singing?" Hall asked. + +Behind him, someone in the rear seat answered, "He's happy. His favorite +baseball team won the San Hermano tournament." + +Hall turned with a start, faced an impassive-looking farmer in blue +jeans. + +"You were fast asleep, señor," the farmer said. + +"Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." A bad dream. Go back to sleep. Or better yet, +wake up and put the light on. But the light was on. The dim yellow +lights inside the bus. "Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." Scots wha hae wi' Wallace +fled. Scots wha ... God, no! A new song. No more Jalisco. The farmer +came into the town his cheeses ripe his mangoes brown he spied a maiden +by her stall she ... God, no! + +"Ay, Muchachita, Muchachita." The kid was still in the groove. +Four-string chord, six-string chord. _Un beso, un beso! Reflecciones de +otros tiempos._ More nice chords. The farmer remembers other times, +other maidens who pursed their lips and gave him _un beso_ when he +begged. What am I to the farmer and what is he to Hecuba? + +"For a _borracho_ he sings well." + +"Yes, with a skinful he is a virtuoso." The sound of his own words +startled Hall. He turned around to the man who had spoken to him. The +farmer smiled. + +"Pardon me, señor," the farmer smiled, "but tonight you are a little of +the virtuoso yourself, no?" + +"No." God, no! + +"I apologize, señor. You are not well?" + +"No. I am well." But where in hell am I? _Ay, muchachita, muchachita._ +Cigars in the coat pocket. Broken, all of them. Smashed to shreds. I +fell on them. When I fell they were smashed. Cigarettes in the side +pocket. Black tobacco, thicker than the cigarettes back home, +brown-paper package. _Bock, La Habana._ + +"Have you a match?" That's a good one. Felipe's been waiting three years +for J. Burton Skidmore to say it. "_Tiene usted un fó'foro?_" Very +welcome. Yes, they are Cuban. No, I am not Cuban myself. I dropped the +_s_ in _fósforo_? I have recently spent some time in Cuba. Yes, Batista +is a fine man. Where are you going? Is this your village? + +"Good-bye, friend." This from outside, the farmer standing on the dirt +road, Hall's gift cigarette glowing in his mouth. A tiny village. +Houses, store, the whitewashed village school, a cast-iron statue of San +Martin and Bolivar shaking hands, an open-front café, the small church. + +"Hello, friend." The kid with the guitar waved at Hall. "When did you +get on the bus?" + +"I don't remember," Hall said. + +"Good. Neither do I. What's your favorite song?" + +"_No Pasarán._" + +"I know it," the kid said. "It is a good song." His fingers flew over +the strings, found the right chords. Hall joined him in the words of the +Spanish Republic's song of resistance. + +Night, deep-blue night, the yellow mazdas of the farmers' village way +behind them now, and the _gua-gua_ rolling down the highway between +plowed fields and fields of sugar and nothing in sight but the broad +fields. + +"Hey, driver!" That was me. I can talk now. I can stand, too. If I grip +the tops of the seats I can walk to the front without taking a pratt +fall. "Driver, _gua-guero_ ..." + +"Jump, it's not high, señor ..." + +Feet on the ground once more. Black blue soft chill night air. There +goes the _gua-gua_. Red tail light bouncing around the bend in the road. +No ship. No sun. No garlic broiling in olive oil. Nothing. Get off the +road. Get up. Off the road. Get to the fence. Get up, get up, here comes +the blackout again, here it comes, watch it, men, this is it. + +He remembered the kid with the guitar, the rich voice of the driver. +_Jump, it's not high._ It was still night. He was lying in a field, +about fifteen yards from the highway. The taste of black earth at his +lips had awakened him. + +He turned his mouth away from the plowed earth. There was no sense in +trying to get up. He knew that much. All in. He was all in. Every bone, +every muscle ached. He closed his eyes, sank into a deep dreamless +sleep. + +Thirst wakened him. It was a thirst that started in his throat, spread +to his dry cottony mouth, sank deep into his drying insides. They were +drying out, drying out fast. He had to have water, or they would dry up +completely, and then he would be dead. + +I am now an animal, he thought. I must have animal cunning. I must sense +water and then I must get to it. Where things grow there must be water. +A stream. A well. + +He got to his knees, started to crawl deeper into the plowed field, +putting another few yards between himself and the road. He crawled into +a clump of weeds. The dew on their leaves brushed against his face. +"It's water," he said, and he licked the dew from the weeds. The thirst +remained. + +Fire. Build a fire and attract a watchman, a farmer, another bus rolling +along the deserted road. No, don't build a fire. Cane burns like oil. +Remember what poor old Fielding said? No fire. You'll be roasted alive. +Find water. It's a sugar field. Must be an irrigation ditch around. Find +the ditch. + +More ground gained by crawling. Then the sleep of exhaustion, no dreams +only sleep until the thirst becomes stronger than the exhaustion and +then more crawling until ... God! there is a ditch. Hear it, smell it. +Must be water, couldn't be this much mulepiss. Now drink your fill and +bathe your face and get your head away from the top of the ditch before +you fall asleep again and drown in two inches of it. It has a name. It's +water. + +This time Hall rolled over on his back when he felt that sleep was +overtaking him. + +There were a million bugs on the mud walls of the ditch. They crawled on +Hall's hands, on his face, and one column of intrepid bugs slithered +into his mouth and got caught in his throat and he was sick. He moved +away from the mess, tried to sit up. He could see a mound of rocks near +the road. With all his remaining strength, he started to crawl toward +the mound. + +It took him two hours to negotiate the twenty yards between the ditch +and the rocks. He lost count of the number of times he collapsed to his +face and fell asleep on the journey. All he knew was that when he woke +up, he had to get to the rocks. He could sit on the rocks and wait for a +truck or a bus to pass by. Then he could hail the driver. + +But when he reached the fence, he saw that the mound was on the other +side of the road. Fall asleep in the middle of the road and the next +truck that rolls along crushes you like a roach. _Putas y maricones! +Maricones y putas!_ Blood will run in the streets of the city when I get +up, the brown blood, the black blood, the blue blood. _Arriba España_ in +a pig's eye. You mean _Deutschland Erwache_, señor, and come a little +closer, you with the yoke and the five arrows on your cap, come a little +closer and get your filthy head bashed in. God, when I get up I'll kill +them I'll kill them if these chills ever go away I'll kill them I'll +kill all the baby killers when these chills go away oh God look at the +baby killers marching through Burgos with the holy men shaking holy +water on their lousy heads. Whores and faggots! Faggots and whores! I'm +getting up! + + * * * * * + +He was asleep when the army lorry roared by and then stopped down the +road, brakes screeching, rubber biting into macadam. + +The sergeant's brandy did no good. Neither did the fresh water they +poured on his face, the brandy they rubbed into his wrists. All this +they had to tell him later. + +He remembered nothing about the lorry. The bus he remembered; the +driver, the flowered-cretonne slip cover on the driver's seat, the +farmer, joining the kid in _No Pasarán_. He remembered jumping from the +bus, crawling for water, giving up the ghost when the bugs crawled into +his throat. And the rocks. There was that mound of rocks. + +Now there was a narrow bed in a small room. A man's room, obviously a +man's room. Desk, lounging chair, worn grass rug. For some reason +Fernando Souza was sitting in the lounging chair. Another man was +standing near the bed, looking down at Hall, his fingers pressed to +Hall's pulse. + +"Is that you, Souza?" Hall asked, and the night clerk of the Bolivar +left the chair and joined the doctor. + +"You will be well now," Souza said. + +"The pulse is coming back," the doctor said, to Souza. He let go of +Hall's wrist. When he went to the desk, Hall could see the military +trousers beneath his white coat. + +"Can you talk, Don Mateo?" Souza asked. + +"I think so. Where am I? What day is it?" + +The doctor went to the door. He held a whispered conversation with a +soldier who was waiting on the other side of the door. Then he took +Souza's chair. "Such cursing," he laughed. "When they brought you in, +Señor Hall, you had no pulse, you had the temperature of cold beer, and +your heart had just about three beats left. You were biologically more +dead than alive. But I swear, before I gave you the first ampule of +adrenalin, the curses were pouring out of your lips like the waves of +the ocean. How do you feel now?" + +"Very tired." + +"Are you hungry?" + +"I don't know." + +"You'll be able to eat soon. I've been feeding you through a needle for +seven hours. How would you like a steak?" + +"What time is it?" + +"Five o'clock," Souza said. "I've been here with you all afternoon, Don +Mateo." + +"What's this 'Don' business?" + +Souza smiled. "I am glad to see that you are making jokes, _compañero_." + +"Where in hell are we?" + +Souza and the doctor took turns in telling the story. The soldiers had +picked him up in the road some ninety miles from San Hermano. More dead +than alive, they put him in the lorry and rushed him to their garrison. +There, while the commandant examined his papers, the doctor, Captain +Dorado, moved him into the commandant's room and gave him his first shot +of adrenalin. + +"Was it a heart attack?" Hall asked. + +"No," the doctor said. "You were drugged." + +Hall listened to the doctor's technical description of the drug which +had felled him. He had heard of it before. It worked like an overdose of +insulin. Burned up the sugar, then the energy in the body, and then blew +the fuses. Something like that, anyway. Another hour without adrenalin +and it would have been curtains. That second pot of coffee and the soft +laughter in the kitchen. Damn their eyes, that's where it happened. Then +eight hours of lying in the commandant's bed, cursing, sleeping, getting +needles of adrenalin, needles of energy, needles of the stuff that makes +pulses beat to the right measure. + +"Are we tiring you?" + +"No, Captain. I'd like something to eat, though." + +"I ordered some hot broth." + +"Thank you. I'm glad you're here, Fernando." + +"The commandant called me," Souza said. "He found your address through +Pan American Airways." + +"Oh." The letter. It had gone to Pan Am for forwarding. Then it was +still safe. + +"I will return in a few minutes," the doctor said. "I want to see about +your broth." + +Souza waited until the doctor was out of the room before he spoke. +"Providence was with you," he said. "The commandant here is a Tabio man. +He called me at once to find out who you were. Another man might have +called your Embassy first." + +"Have they called the Embassy yet?" + +"Not yet, _compañero_." + +"What happened to the men the _maricón_ met at the pier?" + +"We have them under sharp eyes. They went first to Jorge Davila's home. +Then they went to the country. They are in Bocas del Sur at the estate +of Gamburdo's brother, the cattle raiser. The _maricón_ left them there. +He is now in San Hermano with Ansaldo. They were to be with Don Anibal +this afternoon." + +"And the girl?" + +"With Ansaldo." + +"When are you going back to the Bolivar?" + +"In an hour." + +"Tell her that I telephoned to say that I would be out of the city +tonight. I was to see her for dinner. What about the priests from the +boat? Are they all really priests?" + +"Who knows? Perhaps I shall know more when I return to the city." + +"How long will I be on my back?" Hall asked. "Did the doctor say?" + +"Not long. You have recovered from the drug, he says. Now you need food +and another day's rest." + +The doctor returned followed by a soldier who carried a small tray. "Hot +soup," he said. "And after the soup, some rich beef stew. But first, +some brandy. Three glasses, corporal. We'll drink to the memory of +Lazarus." He helped Hall sit up in bed, propped some pillows behind his +back. Only when he sat up did Hall notice that a large signed photograph +of Anibal Tabio hung over the commandant's desk. + +"Let's rather drink to the health of Anibal Tabio," Hall proposed. + +Souza and the doctor watched with approval as Hall ate the soup and the +stew, and then sipped maté through a silver straw. "He's going to be +well in a matter of hours," the doctor said. "Well enough to start +cursing again. It is a shame that I do not know English. But your +Spanish curses were enough for me." + +"What was I cursing?" Hall asked. + +"What didn't you curse, señor? Franco, _putas, maricones_, Hitler, +Gamburdo, the Cross and Sword ..." + +"God! Who heard me?" + +The doctor smiled. "Be tranquil," he said. "Just the commandant and +myself, and one of the soldiers. But you don't have to worry about the +soldier. He is the son of a miner in the north." + +"The soldier," Souza said, "is reliable. I have already seen him." + +"You are among friends," the doctor said. "Souza has told us about you." + +"I owe my life to you," Hall said. + +"From what I have learned," the doctor laughed, "you are not an easy man +to kill." + +"When can I get out of bed?" + +"Tomorrow. That is just as well, señor. The garrison tailor is cleaning +your suit now. Would you like more maté?" + +"Could I have another brandy?" + +"Of course. But then you must sleep." + +"I'm tired of sleeping." + +"I am prepared for that." The doctor called for the corporal, ordered +him to prepare a hypodermic syringe. "You must get some sleep, señor," +he said. + +In the morning, the doctor pronounced Hall well enough to leave the +commandant's bed. Hall's clothes, the suit cleaned and freshly pressed, +the shirt washed and ironed, the shoes polished to a glow, were laid out +on a chair near the bed. "We do things thoroughly in the army," the +doctor said. + +"I see." + +"The commandant would like to join you for breakfast." + +"In the officers' mess?" + +"No. Here." + +"Please tell him that I would be honored." + +"Good. Can you dress yourself?" + +"I'm all right, thanks to you, Captain. I feel as if I'd had a week's +rest on some quiet beach." + +"I'll get the commandant, then. The corporal will show you the way to +the washroom. I've laid out my razor and shaving things for you." + +It was good to stand on steadied legs again, good to walk erect like a +man. The razor had a nice edge. It sliced through the stems of the +two-day beard without snagging. For some reason, the efficiency of the +razor delighted Hall beyond measure. He studied the results of the shave +in the wall mirror, then looked for signs of his illness. Two days were +lost, he thought, two days of which he could account for but a few +hours. The doctor could fill in most of the second day. The first night +was something Hall himself could remember. It was like a bad dream one +longs to forget, but he could remember the bus, the field, the ditch, +the rock pile. He could remember staggering, crawling, getting sick, +passing out and crawling and passing out again. But there were at least +ten hours that remained a total blank; that portion of the day between +the time he blacked out in the café near the Spanish line's pier and the +moment he became aware of the kid in the bus. + +An enlisted man was cleaning up the commandant's room when Hall +returned. "The major will be here in five minutes," he told Hall. "And +in the meanwhile, he sent you these." He handed Hall a flat tin of +American cigarettes. + +Hall offered one of the cigarettes to the soldier. He sat down in the +leather chair near the desk, looked at the inscription on Tabio's +photograph. "To my dear Diego, my comrade in prison and in +freedom--Anibal." + +"The commandant is a close friend of Don Anibal's," the soldier said. "I +think I hear him coming now." The soldier stepped out of the room. + +A moment later someone rapped gently on the door. + +"Come in," Hall shouted. + +The door opened. In the doorway, a man in uniform, his hat carried +correctly under his left arm, paused, made a soft salute. "Major Diego +Segador," he said. "We are honored to have you as our guest." He shook +hands with Hall, sat down in the desk chair facing the portrait of +Tabio. + +"I am grateful to you for--everything," Hall said. + +"It was nothing," Segador said. "After Souza spoke to me about you, I +was sorry we could not do more." + +"What more could you have done?" + +The major's lips parted over his long teeth in a mirthless smile. "We +could have killed the _cabrón_ who drugged you, _compañero_." + +"You know who did it?" + +"It could have been anyone in that café. What's the matter with Delgado? +Didn't he know it is owned by a dirty Falangist?" Color rose to the +major's dark cheeks. He was a man of Hall's own years, shorter, but with +a pair of powerful hands capable of hiding the hands of a man twice his +size. The hands were gripping the arms of his chair now, the knuckles +white as the major fought to control his rage. Hall knew the feeling, +sensed the fires that burned in the major's head. He called me +_compañero_ a moment ago, he thought, he knows what I'm after. + +"Pepe is all right," Hall said. + +"He should have more brains." The major opened the locked middle drawer +of his desk, pulled out a sealed brown envelope. "Your papers," he said. +"Please examine them and see if everything is present." + +Hall tore open the envelope, shook the contents to the desk. Passport, +wallet, not more than fifty pesos missing, a book of travelers' checks, +some sheets of blank paper, a small leather address book, wrist watch, +the Bock cigarettes. Except for the fifty pesos, everything else which +belonged in the wallet was there, money, pictures, cards, the letter +from Havana. + +"Nothing is missing," Hall said. He took the letter from its envelope +and counted the pages. + +"I'm sorry I had to read your love letter," Segador said. "But it was +necessary." + +"I know," Hall said. "But it is not a love letter." + +The massive face of the major reflected his surprise. "Not a love +letter?" he asked. "Ah, here's the coffee. Come in, corporal. Set the +trays down on the desk." + +Hall waited until the corporal left. "It is not a love letter," he +repeated. "I would like very much to interpret it for you. I think it +might explain why I was drugged." + +"Before you start," the major said, "there are two things that you +should know. The first is that Souza has given me a fairly good idea of +why you came to our country. The second is that for your own sake, and +for ours, I had to notify your Embassy that we had picked you up drunk +in a village café last night." + +"Drunk?" + +"I'm sorry, _compañero_. I mean no disrespect, but your Embassy is not +very much in sympathy with many things a man like yourself is willing to +die defending. Under the circumstances, you can spare yourself some +unnecessary trouble if you say merely that you were drunk. If you stick +to this story, you can help yourself and, to be very frank, you can help +Don Anibal." + +"You are his friend, aren't you?" + +The major got to his feet. "His friend?" He undid his tie, then took his +shirt off. His torso was a mass of old and, for the main part, +improperly sewn scars. Mementoes of bullets, steel whips, knives. "My +republicanism is more than skin deep, my friend." + +"Then I can tell you everything." Hall dipped into the tin of American +cigarettes. "It started in San Juan," he began, "or rather it really +started in Geneva, when I met Don Anibal for the first time. But it was +in San Juan that I read that Dr. Ansaldo was on his way to San Hermano +to treat Don Anibal. And if I may jump to the end of my story first, +this love letter seems to confirm what I suspected about Ansaldo. Do you +see what it says here about the doctor who treated Carlos?" + +For an hour, Hall told Segador of what he had learned and experienced +since arriving in the country. The major interrupted with questions +frequently, made notes in a small black notebook. "Please," he said, +when Hall finished his account, "I am going to repeat the important +parts of the story to you. Correct me if I am wrong or if I leave +anything out." + +He recited the story back to Hall, then consulted his watch. "The Press +Secretary of your Embassy is due to call for you in a few minutes," he +said. "Please remember your story. You were drunk." + +"Was I with a _puta_?" Hall asked. + +The major grinned. "No," he said, "that I did not think necessary. +Although if it were, I assure you I would tell your Embassy that you +were with the mangiest _puta_ in six provinces." + +"What do we do now?" + +"It is hard to say. In the meanwhile, I think there is something you +need." He took a large automatic out of his desk, slipped a clip of +bullets into its grip, and handed the gun and a small box of cartridges +to Hall. "If we could only prove to Don Anibal before it is too late +that Ansaldo ..." + +"How?" + +"We must find a way. In the meanwhile, stay alive for the next few days. +I have friends. They will watch for your safety. Souza, others. They +will bring you my messages. And be careful in cafés." + + + + +_Chapter nine_ + + +The American Embassy sent a well-dressed young attaché to call for Hall +in the morning. He arrived in a low-slung yellow sedan, introduced +himself as Orville Smith, snubbed everyone in sight, and relaxed only +when he and Hall were well out of sight of the camp. "They said that you +sure hung one on," he said pleasantly and, Hall realized, with even a +touch of admiration. + +"Must have been something I ate," Hall answered. + +"Glad you turned up intact, old man. Might have led to some amusing +complications. If the major had called five minutes later, this would +have appeared on the front page of _El Imparcial_ this morning." + +He gave Hall a galley proof of a news story. _Missing American Writer +Believed Victim of Communists._ Missing since yesterday ... last seen +leaving hotel ... On Wednesday, at American Embassy party, Hall had +discussed Red threats to his safety, told publisher of _Imparcial_ that +giant Red assassin had followed him day before ... Embassy officials +described Hall as author of book on experiences on _H.M.S. Revenger_ ... +The missing American failed to phone or keep appointment made with +publisher of _Imparcial_ in connection with Soviet threats ... Feared +abducted and killed. + +"What do you make of it?" Hall asked. + +"Politics. They take their politics seriously down here. Was it true +that you were followed?" + +"Yes. But not by the Reds. By the fascists." + +"Are there any fascists down here?" This in a tone of detached +amusement. + +"A few. How well do you know Fernandez?" + +"Quite well. He's one of the few gentlemen in San Hermano. Comes from an +old Spanish aristocratic family. Did you really have an appointment with +him?" + +"It wasn't definite. He told me he had heard of some Red plot to bump me +off. I just kidded him along." + +"Mr. Fernandez is really very well informed," Smith said. "He has a +crack staff of reporters, and the information that they pick up +shouldn't be ignored." + +"Yeah," Hall said. "I hear he's good. Matter of fact, I heard +_Imparcial_ is getting the Cabot Prize this year." + +It was like a shaft driven into Smith's armor. "No!" he exclaimed. "Who +told you?" + +"Some _puta_," Hall said, dryly. "In bed." He watched the blood rushing +to Orville Smith's head. "You'd be surprised at what a gal who sleeps +around can pick up." + +"She was pulling your leg, Hall." + +Hall grinned. "Please, Mr. Smith," he said. "Gentlemen don't discuss +such things." Smith grew redder. + +"Not to change the subject," Hall said, "but what's cooking in town? In +politics, for example. Doesn't the Congress open today?" + +"Not really. They have the ceremonial opening this afternoon. According +to tradition, the President speaks to the entire Congress. Then they +settle down to a week of reviewing last year's business. The first +working session really starts in about ten days." + +"And today I guess Gamburdo is speaking instead of Tabio." + +"Oh, beyond a doubt. Tabio is really on his last legs, old man. I +suppose I should feel sorry about the old coot, but then you learn +things in my game." + +"About Tabio?" + +"Oh, yes. We had information that in his address to the Congress, Tabio +was planning to call for the nationalization of all the mines in the +country." + +"But why?" + +"Oh," Smith said, "because he was being forced into it, I guess. I've +met Tabio and he's not as bad as his enemies make him out to be. But +what are you going to do when you are elected by a Popular Front +majority? The Communist Senators and Deputies are all from the mining +provinces up north. They've been hollering for the nationalization of +the mines for twenty years. Now they're strong enough to put the squeeze +on Tabio." + +"But isn't Gamburdo in the Popular Front?" + +"Gamburdo is different," Smith said. "He has different ideas, and he +can't be pressured by the bolos." + +"I'm doing a story on Gamburdo for a magazine back in the States. You +get around. Tell me more about Gamburdo. I've got him down as the coming +man on the continent. Am I half cocked, or is he really hot?" + +Orville Smith discussed Gamburdo, Tabio, the political scene. He talked +about the politicos, about their ideas, about the gossip which followed +them in their careers. Carefully prodded by Hall, he spoke fluently for +nearly two hours. It was a very revealing monologue. It told Hall how +Orville Smith had spent his three years in San Hermano. Week-end parties +at the estates of wealthy Spanish planters. Dinners, cocktails, high +masses, weddings, fishing trips with the Vardienos and the Fernandezes +and the Gamburdos. Info straight from the horse's mouth. + +Tabio the tool and or agent of bolshevism. The better element. How +social legislation would push taxes up and cut down returns on American +investments. Vardieno gives lovely parties on his island. No, not many +lately. No oil for the boats, hard enough to get it for his narrow-gauge +Diesel locomotives. Fine lad, young Quinones; made the golf team at +Princeton. The Vardieno girl in the Press Bureau? That would be the one +who went to finishing school in the States. She just started in at the +Bureau for some experience. Cross and Sword? Oh, I know the pinkos back +home would call it fascist. It's not, really. Conservative, for free +enterprise and private ownership. All the better-element folks belong or +support it. Do I know any labor leaders? No, never met one. Did I ever +spend a week-end in a small village hotel? No, thank you, the roaches +are bigger than sparrows in the sticks. + +Hall thought about the art of diplomacy. You take a kid from the FFV's +and at an early age you wrap him in cellophane and send him off to some +nice, prophylactic boarding school, well-heeled white Gentiles only, +thank you, High Episcopalians preferred, and only nice clean thoughts, +none of them less than a century old, are gently swished against the +cellophane until some of them seep through by osmosis. He meets only the +sons of the better element and outside of an adolescent clap he picks up +on one wild week-end with some of the boys in New York he has no real +problem until he's eased out of prep and then he has an idea he wants to +go to Harvard but the family prevails and he does time at Princeton, +nearly makes varsity football but a high tackle in a practice scrimmage +changes his mind, and then he is ready for his place on the board of the +mill but someone--a nice girl of fine breeding, no doubt--puts another +idea in his head. So he goes to Georgetown, fills out a lot of nasty +forms, and then, _voilá!_, the young monsieur arrives in Paris as Third +Secretary and dreamily sends that first letter home to the folks: Hello +Folks, here I am in Gay Paree learning how to be an Ambassador. + +And then in Paris, Hall thought, listening to Orville Smith, your young +Third Secretary naturally gravitates to his French equivalents, the +young bluebloods who were reared in French cellophane and got the same +ideas, only in French, in their own versions of Princeton and Groton. +The better element meets the better element, and he makes factual, +intelligent reports. The Popular Front falling into hands of the bolos. +This he learns at a week-end party on Flandin's yacht. The Croix de Feu +and the Cagoulards are fine, conservative forces. Only the pinkos call +them fascists, but Bertrand de Juvenal, the fledgling ambassador's pal, +knows otherwise. Sit-down strikes, forty-hour week, vacations with +pay--he puts them all down in his reports; communist, of course. Got the +lowdown on the beach at Cannes just the other day. Daladier is the man +to watch. Yes, he is in the Popular Front. But Daladier's different. +He's like Monsieur Laval, the French Calvin Coolidge. Fine force for +sensible government. There will be no war, Munich has settled that. Got +the lowdown from Flandin himself. Germany will be defeated. Spent a most +fascinating week-end with General Weygand. Marechal Pétain is man of the +hour. Marechal Pétain will make France another Verdun. Vichy wants to be +friends with Washington. The Marechal indignantly denies, in private, +that that was a Nazi salute you saw in the newsreels, sir, he says he +was just waving at the cameramen. But Bertrand de Juvenal does not deny, +and Laval does not deny, and Daladier weeps in his collapsed house of +cards. And then comes the transfer to San Hermano at a better rating. + +Smith pointed to the suburbs of San Hermano ahead of them. "We made good +time," he said. "We'll be in the Embassy in ten minutes." + +"Good going. You can drop me at the Bolivar, if you don't mind." + +"Not at all, old man. But say, why don't you drop by for a spot of lunch +with the old man and the boys at the Embassy? We'd love to have you with +us and, besides, the old man will probably want to see for himself that +you're in one piece." + +Hall looked at his watch. "What time do you have lunch?" + +"About one." + +"Good. I'd like to join you. But I'll still have time to stop off at the +Bolivar to change and pick up my mail. I'm expecting a letter from my +sweetheart." + + * * * * * + +Pepe was waiting in his cab in front of the Bolivar. He was contrite and +subdued. "I nearly killed you with my stupidity, Mateo," he said. "I +should have known that café was owned by Falangistas." + +"It's nothing, Pepe. I had it coming to me. I'm all over it now, anyway. +What's new?" + +"I have the complete list of where the passengers from the _Marques de +Avillar_ are staying. Their names, too. Except the names of the two men +who are at the Gamburdo ranch. But they are still there." + +"Did you recognize any of the names?" + +"My friends are examining the lists now. I'll have them back for you in +the evening." + +"Have you seen Duarte?" + +"I told him about you. He wants you to call him at the Mexican Embassy." + +"I will, later. I have to go to my room for a minute, and then I want +you to take me to the American Embassy. I'm having lunch there." He +entered the hotel and asked for his mail at the desk. There was a +message from Jerry, a short gossipy note from his publisher, and another +love letter from Havana. + +The note from Jerry was very short. "I missed you, you dog," it said. +"Phone me when you return to town. Jerry." + +The letter from Havana, mailed the day after the first letter, was +almost a duplicate of the first. Again it protested its love, but this +time it said, "How many times must I tell you that the man you think is +your rival is unworthy of all human decencies? Far from being a rival in +my eyes, I look upon him as a creature worse than an assassin. You must +believe me; I detest the man." Hall put the letter in his wallet. + +He examined his room carefully. It had not been searched, the +stethoscope was still in its hiding place, his clothes were just as he +had left them. Everything was as it had been. Hall took out his portable +typewriter, copied the _El Imparcial_ story which had been killed, and +sealed the copy in an envelope. He went downstairs, got into the cab, +and slipped the envelope into Pepe's pocket. + +"Give the envelope to Dr. Gonzales," he said. "And tell him to get the +information to Major Segador right away." + +"I'll drive right out to the doctor as soon as I leave you. Shall I wait +for you outside of the American Embassy after I see the doctor?" + +"I think you'd better." + +Ambassador Skidmore seemed pleased to see Hall. "You gave us quite a +scare, young fellow," he said, his ruddy face beaming, white hair +bobbing as Skidmore shook his head from side to side in mock anxiety. +"Ah, you newspaper boys," he laughed. "Always going off on a tear when +you are least expected to! And here poor Joe Fernandez was so sure that +the Reds had made hamburger out of you, Hall." + +"I'm sorry I spoiled a good story," Hall said. "I'd better call +Fernandez on the phone before he sends out another alarm." + +"No need to, my boy," the Ambassador said. "Joe Fernandez is joining us +at lunch." + +Fernandez showed up with a former Senator, a dignified old dandy named +Rios, who sported a silver-headed cane, a waxed, dyed mustache, and a +Cross and Sword emblem in his lapel. They shared the table in the +Ambassador's small private dining room with Hall, Orville Smith and the +Ambassador. + +The publisher fawned over Hall like a long-lost brother. "You are safe," +he exclaimed. "Thanks be to the Virgin Mother! What happened? Was it +very bad?" + +"I got drunk," Hall said. "That's all that happened." + +"Ridiculous, Señor Hall! You are a man who can take his drink. You were +drugged. Mark my words, señor, you were drugged. You don't know these +Reds." + +Orville Smith winked broadly at Hall. "The main thing is," he said to +Fernandez, "that Hall is safe now. I'm sure he appreciates your concern, +Don José." In deference to the Ambassador's three-word Spanish +vocabulary, Smith and the others spoke English. Rios, who spoke only +Spanish, sat between Skidmore and Smith, who acted as their interpreter. + +"What province did you represent in the Senate?" Hall asked the former +Senator. + +"San Martin, in the north." + +"Don Joaquin is a great statesman," Fernandez interrupted. "But when El +Tovarich prepared his gangsters for the elections two years ago, he +armed the Red miners and they held their guns in the ribs of Don +Joaquin's majority." + +Hall listened to Smith translate this account of Rios' defeat at the +polls before he spoke. "And do you plan to run again, Señor Rios?" he +asked. + +Fernandez answered for the dandy. "He will run again," he shouted, "and +he will be elected. Fire can fight fire. Guns can fight guns." + +"I have _pantalones_," Rios said. "I am a man of honor." + +"Don Joaquin's constituents demand that he runs again," Fernandez said. +He turned to the Ambassador, became his own translator. The ex-Senator +nodded happily at every word Fernandez addressed to the Ambassador, as +if by nodding he could bolster the words whose meaning he had to guess. + +"How do you think things will go in Congress today?" Hall asked +Fernandez. + +"The same as every year, Señor Hall. Ceremonials, the speech, and +then--_quién sabe_?" + +Rumors rose from the table. Everyone had a choice rumor to air. Rios had +it on good authority that Tabio's illness was merely a pretext; the +President was afraid to face the Congress lest they force him to justify +his wild socialistic measures which had put the national budget in such +dire peril. Orville Smith informed the men at the table that Tabio's +illness had taken a more serious turn. "In fact, I understand that Dr. +Ansaldo has informed the government that he will refuse to operate on +Tabio without the written permission of the Cabinet." Fernandez spoke of +Ansaldo's skill as a surgeon. + +"How about Gamburdo's speech, Joe?" the Ambassador said. "You promised +to bring me an advance copy." + +"I told my secretary to bring it to you as soon as it arrived," +Fernandez answered. "It is very late in arriving today." + +"Have you any idea of what he is going to say, Joe?" + +"He is a very sound man," Fernandez said. "I am sure that the speech +will be satisfactory." + +"It won't call for the nationalization of the mines, at any rate," Smith +added. + +He made the mistake of translating his remark for Joaquin Rios. He might +just as well have dropped a match into a keg of gunpowder. The wax +mustaches under the purpling nose of ex-Senator Rios began quivering +even before he unleashed an avalanche of ringing livid paragraphs on the +subject. His eyes blind to the cold stares of José Fernandez, he +unlimbered his heaviest verbal artillery, pounded the table until the +glasses rattled, pointed accusing fingers at every corner of the room, +and otherwise managed rather effectively to end the luncheon. Fernandez +fairly had to drag him out of the Embassy to cool him down. + +"Fine fellows," Skidmore said to Hall when they were gone. "Best of the +lot down here." + +"Sure," Hall said. "I've known all about Fernandez for years." + +"He's a great guy, Hall. Publishes one of the best newspapers on the +continent. As a matter of cold fact, old man, I wouldn't be at all +surprised if he won the--well, he might be in for a rather high honor." + +"I know. The Cabot Prize." + +"Who told you?" + +Hall looked at Smith, who was growing uncomfortable. "I can't remember," +he said. "But it's hard to keep such a secret in San Hermano." + +"Well, I'll be damned," the Ambassador laughed. "It was nice to see you +again, old man. Drop in any time when you have a problem." + +"Problems in San Hermano? Things seem to be pretty much under control, +I'd say." + +"Yes," the Ambassador admitted. "Things are pretty quiet." + +"Will it be as quiet when Tabio dies? I heard talk that the Gamburdo +crowd is pretty close to the fascists." + +"Gamburdo?" Skidmore grew both amused and indignant. "What kind of +communistic nonsense have you been hearing? I know Eduardo Gamburdo +intimately. I've entertained him at the Embassy, and I've week-ended at +his estate. He's a fine conservative influence on this government and, +damn it all, young man, Gamburdo is a thorough gentleman." + +"Yeah," Hall said. "Thorough." For a few seconds, during the luncheon, +he had toyed with the idea of telling the Ambassador all that he knew +about Gamburdo and Ansaldo and the role of the Falange. Now he cursed +himself for a fool. Skidmore, he saw, was Orville Smith at sixty, but +with the power to make trouble for any visiting American who rubbed +against his deep-set prejudices. "Well, thanks for everything," he said. +"I guess you're pretty busy today." + +Hall rushed out of the Embassy, his face twitching crazily as he charged +down the marble walk to the curb. He had broken into a heavy sweat which +drenched him from head to toe. "Get me out of here," he roared at Pepe. +"Get going before I kill someone." + +"What happened?" Pepe asked. + +"Nothing. Where are we going?" + +"Nowhere. What's the matter with your face?" + +"Nothing." He put his hand against his right cheek. "Nothing. Did you +see Gonzales?" + +"I gave him the letter. He said you should go to the opening of Congress +today. He says you might be surprised." + +"Thanks. I had my surprise for the day already." + +"Gonzales was serious. He says you should go. It starts at four +o'clock." + +"All right. I'll go. Better take me to Gobernacion. I'll need a pass +from the Press Bureau. No, wait, let's go to Duarte's place. He takes +his siesta at this time. I'll call that Vardieno bitch from his place." + +Hall opened his tie. "Have we time to stop for a beer?" he asked. "I'm +dying for a drink." + +"No. We might miss Duarte. He'll have beer for you." + +Pepe was right. Duarte did have beer, and had they stopped on the way, +they would have missed him. He was about to leave the house when they +arrived. Duarte was wearing the green dress uniform of a Mexican +lieutenant-colonel, to which he had pinned his Spanish medals and +insignia. + +"Going to war?" Hall asked. + +"No. To the opening of Congress." + +"You've got time." + +"Hall is dying," Pepe said. "He needs cold beer." + +The Mexican brought out five bottles of beer. "I've got more in the ice +box," he said. "What's the matter?" + +"He wants to kill someone," Pepe said. + +"Me too. What of it?" + +Hall put the mouth of the opened bottle to his lips, tilted his head +back. "God," he said, "Pepe is right. Let me make one phone call, and +then I'll spill it. I've got to get it off my chest before I blow the +top." + +He reached the Vardieno girl on the phone. She was so sorry. The lists +had all gone down to the Hall of Congress. Anyway, all requests for +foreign writers had to come through their embassies. That was the Press +Chief's new ruling. + +"That's fine. That settles it," Hall said when he put the phone away. +"Now I must ask the Ambassador to approve me for the press gallery." + +"Sit down, Mateo," Duarte said. "I can wait a full hour if necessary." +He put a bottle of cold beer into Hall's hand. "Tell us about it." + +"I'll wait outside," Pepe said. + +"No. Stay with us, Pepe. I want you to know the facts. Do you both +remember that I was waiting for a letter from Havana? Well, I got it. +Two letters, in fact. They told me what I wanted to know about Ansaldo." +He drained the second bottle and then told them what had happened to him +at the Embassy. + +"Don't bother with him," Duarte said. "You don't need his permission. +I'll give you my diplomatic invitation and my carnet. The uniform is all +I need to get through the gates. You'll sit in the diplomatic gallery +with me." + +"Great." + +"You can even act as Skidmore's interpreter." + +"_Con mucho gusto!_" + + * * * * * + +Riding to the Hall of Congress, Duarte drew Hall's attention to the loud +speakers fastened to the poles in every plaza. "The government has +bought over a hundred speakers in the past two weeks," he said. "I know, +because most of them were bought in California and I had to O.K. their +transit duty-free through Mexico. I think our friend Gamburdo is up to +something today." + +Hall looked at a knot of grim-faced _Hermanitos_ standing under one of +the speakers. "I think the people suspect it too." + +"We couldn't get an advance copy of the speech at the Embassy, Mateo. +Usually, Tabio releases advance copies to the press and the diplomatic +corps on the morning of the speech." + +"I wonder why?" + +"I can only suspect the worst. After the speech, can you come back to +the house with me? I want to hear what happened to you. Commander New +called me this morning and told me that he had asked the police to +investigate Fielding's death." + +"What? On the phone?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, the damned idiot! Now even if the police are not fixed every damned +fascist in South America knows that the Fielding thing went wrong!" + +"It's too late for cursing now. Let's talk about the whole picture after +the speech." + +The plaza facing the Hall of Congress was filling up with citizens who +had come to hear the speech over the public-address system. Scattered +through the crowds were men carrying signs reading "_Viva_ Eduardo +Gamburdo." Duarte pointed them out. + +"Every one a Cross-and-Sword ruffian," he said. "I used to see the same +faces while the Falange was legal. They then wore the blue shirt." + +"I can't see their faces," Hall said. + +"I've seen their faces. Three months ago Lombardo came to San Hermano to +address the C.T.A.L. convention. The same gang showed up with their +filthy signs, only this time the signs read: '_Viva_ Christ the King' +and 'Go back to Bolshevik Mexico, you Dirty Jew' and 'Down with the +Commune of the anti-Christ' and other lovely things. I know them." + +"Something is happening," Duarte said when they were in the building. +"Everyone is too quiet." They followed a military escort to the Mexican +box. + +The Mexican Ambassador was tense. "I don't like it," he said to Hall and +Duarte. "Why is everyone so quiet on the rostrum?" + +"They look as if they've seen a ghost," Hall said. + +Duarte studied the faces of the officials on the flag-decked rostrum. +"Where's Gamburdo?" he said. "Has anyone seen him?" + +"I saw his car parked outside when I came in," the Ambassador said. + +"What's that? Do you hear it, Mateo?" + +"Sounds like distant thunder, Felipe." + +"It's not thunder. It's the crowd. What have they got to cheer about?" + +"Gamburdo's cheer leaders must have gone to work." + +"I don't like it," the Mexican Ambassador said. "I don't like it." + +A gavel fell on a block. At a signal from the President of the Senate, a +military band hidden in one of the caucus rooms began to play the +national anthem. The music was piped in to the great hall over the +public-address system. + +The gavel called the Congress to order. A clerk called the roll, the +Senate head started the parliamentary ritual. Then the band started to +play the national anthem again, this time without a signal. A door +behind the rostrum opened. + +In the doorway, flanked by his two young sons, Anibal Tabio sat in a +wheel chair. His closest friend, Esteban Lavandero, the Minister of +Education, stood behind him. Slowly, the chair was wheeled to the +rostrum. + +"Members of the Congress," the Senate Chief shouted, "The President of +the nation has come to deliver his annual address." + + + + +_Chapter ten_ + + +There were two shouts. On the floor, one of the Senators screamed "_Viva +La Republica!_" At the same moment a young voice in the press gallery +yelled, "_Viva_ Don Anibal Tabio!" and in the great hall every man +sprang to his feet. The low distant thunder of the crowds in the Plaza +had now swelled to a roar whose joyous overtones poured into the Hall of +Congress through the doors, the windows, the steel and marble walls +themselves. Senators and Deputies of the Popular Front Parties were the +first in the hall to find their voices. "_Viva_ Don Anibal!" they +shouted, applauding wildly, laughing, yelling, embracing one another, +wondering if the tears in their eyes could be seen by their colleagues. +The anti-Tabio Congressmen remained on their feet, their hands moving in +the motions of applause, their hearts cold and sick. Somehow, Eduardo +Gamburdo had found his former place on the rostrum, was now standing and +applauding with the other people in the hall. The signals had been +crossed. The dead President had come to life. Anibal Tabio was sitting +before the chromium microphone, serene and unmoving, his paralyzed legs +neatly covered with a light Indian blanket. + +Outside, the crowd had begun to sing the national anthem. The +legislators, the reporters, many of the Latin American diplomats in the +visitors' gallery took up the words. Hall glanced at his neighbors. +Tears flowed down the cheeks of Duarte and his chief. A few rows away, +Skidmore and Orville Smith, correctly dressed in formal afternoon wear, +stood stiffly at attention, their eyes firmly riveted to the strange +tableau of Tabio and his entourage. + +Someone thrust a huge bouquet of orange and blue mountain flowers at the +invalid in the wheel chair. His son Diego accepted the flowers, laid +them tenderly on an empty chair. Diego at fifteen was heavier than his +father had ever been, darker, more like an Indian peasant than the son +of Anibal Tabio. His brother Simon, who now accepted the second bouquet, +was an eighteen-year-old replica of Don Anibal himself. Tall, lithe, he +had the same fair brown hair, the same thin spiritual face as the +father. Lavandero, standing behind Tabio's chair, had the dark, brooding +face of a Moor. His shock of black hair started at the peak of a high, +broad forehead; his large black mustache failed to dominate his thick, +strong lips. He was rubbing a hairy fist in his eyes and talking softly +to Tabio. + +The President, at fifty-three, seemed to have aged ten years since Hall +had last seen him. His hair had turned gray, and everything about him +was thinner than ever before in his life. In Geneva, Hall had always +wondered what would have happened to the thin, delicate frame of Anibal +Tabio in a tropical hurricane. Now, even from the gallery, Hall could +see that Tabio had grown so thin that the high cheek bones which had +always marked his slender face now stuck out like two sharp points, +almost burying the deep-set gray eyes. Tabio sat quietly in his wheel +chair, smiling at friends on the floor, looking first to Diego then to +Simon, gently patting the hand of his older son when the boy put his +hand on the father's fragile shoulder. + +The ovation continued when the singing of the national anthem was +completed. Tabio turned to Lavandero, whispered a few words. The +Minister of Education held his hands, palms out, toward the assemblage. +"Please," he said. "Please." + +Guests and legislators took their seats. In another room, a drummer +dropped his cymbal on the floor. It rent the sudden silence of the great +hall, and then its echoes were stilled. + +Anibal Tabio squeezed the hands of his sons, drew a deep breath, and +faced the microphone before him. + +"My countrymen," he said, "this is the third year in which I have had +the honor of addressing you at this solemn hour. A week ago, I would +have said that my chances of preaching my own funeral sermon were better +than my chances of opening this, the fifteenth free Congress of our +beloved Republic. + +"But since then ..." he leaned forward, his long chin jutting +pugnaciously forward as he gasped for breath, "since then many things +have come to my ears. I have heard rumors. Strange and disturbing rumors +about what was going to happen today. I need not repeat these rumors to +you. You have all heard them." + +Hall looked at Skidmore's face as Smith translated Tabio's words. + +"Yes, you have heard them. When they came to my ears," Tabio said, "I +thought: What is happening? Who dares to challenge the mandate of the +people? Who dares to speak of perverting the will of the people? It was +then that I knew, as never before, that a President's place is with the +people. If I could sit up in my bed and talk this way to my sons, to my +dear friend Esteban Lavandero, then I could sit up in this chair before +you, the chosen representatives of the people. + +"My good friends, this may be the last time I will ever speak to +you ..." + +Shouts of "No!" rang all over the hall. + +"Hear me, friends. Hear me and mark well what I say. Once this nation +honored me with the post of Minister of Foreign Affairs. As your +Minister, I crossed the ocean. I went to Geneva. I went to Spain, from +where we have derived so much of our culture, our language, so much of +our personality as a people. + +"We are today a free people, not the colonial vassals we were in the +days of Imperial Spain. But Spain, too, had become a free nation in +1931. I saw the free Spain at the hour of her birth, when the hated +Bourbon heard the voice of Spain's millions at the ballot and fled to +the empty pleasures of a decaying society abroad. I also saw the free +Spain in the hours of her agony. It was at that hour that I beheld for +the first time the ugly bloodless face of fascism. + +"It is a cold, metallic, impersonal face, my countrymen, the face of an +Agusto Segura grown to superhuman power, the maniacal face of a mad +killer who suddenly finds all the world's horrible instruments of +destruction in his idiot hands. I saw this beast grow strong on the +blood of free men, and I wept for a gallant people who, for a few brief +moments, had presumed to control their own destinies. + +"Yes," Tabio said, his hand pointing across an ocean, "yes, I wept for +Spain, but through my tears I began to see my own native land, saw my +own people enjoying this precious freedom. And at that moment I knew +that I must dedicate whatever remained of my life to doing all that was +in my power as a man and as a citizen to keep the beast of fascism from +gorging on our young Republic. + +"I have fought that fight to this very moment. But more important than +anything I have done has been the magnificent unity of our peoples in +their determination to struggle against fascism in all of its black +forms. It has not been the President who has led the people in this +great crusade. No, my countrymen. It has been the people who have +created and given their mandate to the President, to the Congress." + +Tabio had never learned a single orator's trick. As a statesman, he +retained all the speaking habits he had originally formed during his +early years as a young professor of history at the university. Teaching, +he once explained, was the process of thinking aloud. And at this +moment, in what he guessed would be his last speech to the nation, +Anibal Tabio returned to the concepts which had gone into his great book +on the relationships of people to government in modern democracy. For +the better part of thirty minutes, he explored these relationships +again. After all these years, the professor was back in class, patiently +expounding his ideas to a new set of faces. + +"Well, that is the state and the people. I have not told you anything +new. You have heard this all before from me." Tabio was laughing softly, +and at himself. "But that is what happens when the people elect a +pedantic professor as their President. Instead of a speech, they get a +long, dry lecture." + +Tabio paused, frowned at the people who sat hushed in the hall. "Have +you forgotten how to laugh?" he asked. A few loyal followers tried to +laugh. "Good," Tabio said. + +"But I am not finished, my countrymen. I have spoken of the ideal +democratic state. Many of us like to feel that we have achieved this +state. That perfection is ours. This is dangerous thinking. Of course, +we are not as imperfect as a certain newspaper in San Hermano and a +certain organization which has usurped the symbol of brotherly love as +its emblem"--this time he drew some real laughter--"we are not as +imperfect as they would have you believe. + +"But even if we were the most perfect state in the world, today this +would mean very little. Our chances of surviving, of progressing until +the Republic of Man became even more attractive than the Kingdom of God, +our chances of surviving at all would still be obscured. If our nation +were some remote island in the skies, whirling on its own axis, remote +from all other lands, perhaps then I would have no fears for our future. + +"We are not this remote planet unto ourselves. We share a world with a +hundred nations, a thousand races. I do not regret that we are part of +this world. I think we should rejoice in our membership in the world's +family of races. But we must not lose sight of the fact that our nation, +no less than any other nation, be it free or fascist, is part of this +strange family. + +"We must never forget that the great war which started in unhappy Spain +in July, 1936, was not a war between good and evil in Spain alone. It +was a war not of two Spanish ideas but of two fundamental world ideas. +It was the start of the universal death struggle between the slave-world +ideas of fascism and the free-world ideas of political and economic +democracy. It was the start of the fascist war against freedom that has +now spread all over the world." + +Tabio glanced at his two sons. He accepted a glass of water, smiling at +the legislators in the front rows as he drank. "Freedom," he said, "is +there a man who does not know the meaning of the word?" Before he +returned to the theme of the world war which had started in Spain, he +explored the full meaning of freedom in modern times. It was only after +he had delivered a profound essay on freedom which shook Matthew Hall +until the American felt a lump rising in his throat that Tabio picked up +the earlier threads. + +"In Spain, then, the forces of freedom suffered a heavy loss. But what +of those small men with narrow little minds who held the reins of so +much of the world's power while Spain bled? What of these tiny +statesmen, these sleek somnambulists who held lace handkerchiefs before +their narrow mouths and laughed while fascism marched in Spain? What of +these wretches who, through the immoral instrument called +non-intervention, sought to end freedom in Spain in the criminal +conviction that the blood of Spain alone would satisfy the fascist +beast? + +"History was not long in giving the lie to these gentry. The beast who +had whetted his insatiable appetite in Spain now started almost +immediately to claw at the world. It was in April of 1939 that Madrid +fell. By September the beast belched and turned on the very creatures +who had covertly and overtly helped him subdue Spain." + +That Tabio had not raised his voice at this point, that he in fact spoke +more softly, accentuated all the more the scorn and the anger in his +heart. + +"Nations have fallen to the beast," he continued. "Nations of meager +freedom, like Poland. Nations of great and traditional freedom, like +France. The war has spread over the world like a Biblical plague. Russia +could not escape it. Nor could our great sister Republic, the United +States. + +"Yes, North Americans now have felt the pain, the anguish, the power of +Axis treachery. No nation can escape this war. + +"My countrymen, we are not an island in the skies. We are a sovereign +nation in the same world, on the same earth, in the same waters, sharing +the same era as the United States, England, Russia and China. It is not +for us to choose whether or not we can stay out of this war. That choice +the world does not permit us. Our only choice is the determination of +what our role must be in this war. + +"There has been strange talk in our land lately. There has been strange +and deceitful talk of neutrality. Has it not occurred to any of you that +those in our midst who howl the loudest for neutrality, who show such a +sudden concern for the lives and safety of the humblest Indian peasant, +that these pious seekers after neutrality have never before worn the +white dove on their family escutcheons? Who are these peaceful gentlemen +who grow pale in the presence of bloodshed? Are they not the same +persons who as young men were proud to be officers in the armies of +Segura, who laughed and drank as they ruthlessly shot down defenseless +miners in the northern provinces? + +"Who are these sudden pacifists in our Republic? Are they not the very +devout gentlemen who sent money and rum and cigars to the fascists in +Spain during the Spanish phase of this war? Are they not the very men +who sent cables of homage to Hitler and Mussolini after the shame of +Munich? Are they not the very men who even now wear the medals of Nazi +Germany, of Blackshirt Italy, of Falangist Spain--who wear these medals +proudly while they chortle over the blood of dying Russians on the +Eastern Front, of dying Americans on the Bataan peninsula?" + +Tabio stopped. His eyes searched the press gallery, then fixed on José +Fernandez. He pointed a graceful hand at the publisher of _El +Imparcial_. + +"I ask you," he said, "are they not the very men who write in their +papers that Adolf Hitler, whatever be his alleged faults, is waging a +holy crusade on behalf of Christian civilization against Marxist +atheism?" + +Tabio continued looking at Fernandez, but Lavandero shot a fierce scowl +at Ambassador Skidmore, who seemed bewildered and unhappy as Smith +translated Tabio's questions. The Ambassador, too, had seen the object +of Tabio's shaft. Angry, uneasy laughter broke out on the floor. A cry +of "Long live the United Nations!" from one of the Popular Front +deputies was immediately answered with the shout "Long live Christ the +King" from the public gallery. + +The President, who had heard both shouts, turned to the gallery. "Who +are these neutrals?" he asked. "Are they not the same fascists who hope +to fool God by casting their fascist swords in the image of the Cross of +Jesus? Are they not the fanatics who, rather than see the Axis beast +destroyed, would first destroy the freedom and the dignity of their own +land? + +"They lie. There can be no neutrals in this world war. He who calls +himself a neutral is either a fool or a fascist. And the fine gentlemen +who prate of neutrality are very clever men." + +The Popular Front Congressmen rose to their feet, applauding and adding +to the din with their shouts of agreement. They were joined by a few of +the independents. The delegates of the rightist coalition remained in +their seats, their arms folded across their chests. But they were not +quiet. As the ovation for Tabio continued, loud cries came from the +ranks of the men who kept their seats. "Down with atheism!" shouted one +rightist Senator. "We have no quarrel with any other nation!" another +yelled. "We will not die for Godless Russia!" + +"Long live democracy!" a Popular Front deputy answered. "Long live the +anti-fascist United Nations!" + +Esteban Lavandero pleaded with the Congress for silence. + +"My countrymen," Tabio said, "there can be no neutrality in this war. +There is one official neutral in Europe. His name is Francisco Franco. +We all know what this hypocritical neutrality really is; how it shields +the vile aid that fascist Spain is lending to the Axis. But this is as +it should be. Franco is a fascist, and today fascism must triumph all +over the world or be crushed forever. + +"But what of our own nation, what of the twenty nations of Hispanic +America in this war? What is our stake in this world struggle? + +"If the Axis wins this war, we, like all other nations, must of +necessity lose our political freedom. And if we once lose our political +democracy, we must begin again the long, bitter struggle to win it once +more before we can even begin to dream of creating an era of economic +democracy. + +"If the United Nations win, if world fascism is crushed forever, a new +world era of economic democracy must begin at once. It will not come +easily. The defeat of the Axis will not immediately bring in its wake +the millennium. It will, however, give the common people of the world +the final realization of their great power. In this lies the inherent +strength of political democracy. For democracy is not a static thing. It +can grow and bring in the era of economic democracy, or it can falter +and give way to fascism. + +"The common people of the world, today fighting and dying behind the +banners of the United Nations, have served notice on history that they +will not rest until fascism has been swept from the face of this earth." + +Tabio was now speaking with both arms raised, his hands reaching out to +everyone. "My countrymen, I have said enough. I know that I have spoken +the thoughts that are uppermost in the minds of that great majority of +our citizens who have given their mandate to you and to me. In a week, +you will have to frame the mandate for the delegation which will speak +for our Republic at the forthcoming conference of the nations of the +Americas. Speak out! Speak out honestly, speak out openly. Speak as the +spokesmen of a democracy. Speak as the citizens of the embattled united +democracies of the entire world must speak at this hour. Speak for the +free men of the free world. Speak firmly, for you will be speaking not +only for the future of our own Republic but for the future of all +mankind." + +The Cuban Ambassador, whose seat was nearest the podium, crossed the +plush rail and rushed to Tabio's wheel chair. He fell to his knees, +embraced the President. In a flash, Eduardo Gamburdo left his own place +and copied the Cuban's gesture. The rostrum became crowded with +dignitaries bent on paying the same homage to Anibal Tabio. The envoys +of the Latin American democracies, the delegates of the Free French and +the Spanish Republican juntas, the leaders of the trade unions and the +chiefs of the Popular Front parties milled around the wheel chair as the +pro-democrats in the hall added their voices to the cheers of the crowds +in the Plaza. Duarte, his soft raspy words choked and unintelligible, +embraced Hall. + +Lavandero was pulling the wheel chair back toward the door of the +Speaker's Chamber. The well-wishers of the President followed him into +the room. For a moment, the people in the auditorium applauded the blank +door through which Tabio had vanished. Then young Simon Tabio returned +to pick up the flowers on the chair, and his father's supporters cheered +louder, punctuating their cheers with cries of "Long live Don Anibal!" +The youth streaked into the room behind the platform. + +"Let's get out of here," Hall said. + +"I've got to go to my office," Duarte said. "I have to prepare a report +on the speech. Join me, and then we can talk." + +"Pepe can drive us over." + +"No one drives today," Duarte said when they reached the visitors' +doorway. + +The streets were jammed thick with people. Hall had never seen so many +people in San Hermano before. It was as if every house, every building +in the university, every shop, every wharf, every school had been turned +inside out and its people poured out into the streets. Whole families in +their best clothes, trolley drivers in their work uniforms, longshoremen +in their dungarees, even peasants from the other side of Monte Azul in +their brown-cotton trousers and their broad-brimmed straw hats milled +along the sidewalks, the pavements, the Plaza, the trolley tracks. Cars, +taxis, trucks, wagons, trolleys were parked crazily all over the place. + +Pepe, like a hundred other drivers within a block of the Hall of +Congress, was standing on top of his car, waving the flag of the +Republic, shouting, "Long live the United Nations! Long live Don Anibal! +Long live the Republic!" + +Crowds formed around each parked vehicle, joined the cries of the +drivers. The roofs of the trolleys were jammed with groups of students +and motormen waving flags or the banners of their student societies and +their unions. Thousands of Hermanitos, kids in overalls, housewives, +lawyers, shopkeepers wandered through the crowds with framed portraits +of Anibal Tabio which an hour ago had hung from the walls of their +homes, their offices, their shops. The pictures of Tabio ranged from +formal photographs and oil paintings to crude charcoal drawings and +pictures torn from the daily press. + +Hall and Duarte made their way to Pepe's sedan. When he saw them, he put +the flag in his left hand and with his right hand he pointed to +something on the ground on the opposite side of the car. "Look!" Pepe +shouted. "Down here!" + +A pile of torn Cross-and-Sword placards lay on the cobbles inside a ring +of laughing young Hermanitos who were urinating on the signs. Some of +the boys in this ring showed signs of having been in a fight. + +"The fascists ran away," Pepe laughed. "Don Anibal's speech split their +filthy ears." + +"I'll see you later," Hall told Pepe. + +"Wait!" Pepe shouted. He leaned over the side of his cab. "Boy," he +said, "boy, where is that flag for the American _compañero_? That's the +one. Thank you, boy." He lay down on his belly, stretched a huge paw +into the crowd around the remains of the Cross-and-Sword banners. When +he stood up, he had a small American flag in his hand. + +"Wonderful," Hall said, taking the flag. "I guess it's also the Yankee +day to howl." + +A crowd formed around Hall and Duarte. They saluted the American flag, +saluted the Mexican uniform. + +"Long live the United States! Long live Mexico!" the crowd shouted, and +the two men answered, as one, "Long live Don Anibal!" + +The crowd separated, let them through. They walked a few steps, and then +another crowd formed around them. Again they listened to cheers for the +United States and Mexico, again they responded with their cheer for +Tabio. + +"Jesus H. Christ," Hall said. "This is the first time I've carried an +American flag in the streets since I was a Boy Scout in Ohio." + +"It will do you good, Mateo." + +"I like it. But try to make anyone believe it back home!" + +At the fourth block Hall and Duarte started to detour around a trolley +car which had stopped in the middle of a crossing. A dozen hands reached +down from the crowded roof. "_Compañeros!_ Take our hands! Climb up! +Take our hands! We want a speech!" + +"Long live Mexico! Homage to Colonel Felipe Duarte, Counselor of the +Mexican Embassy and hero of the war against the fascists in Spain!" + +Duarte had to join the crowd on the roof of the stalled train. He made a +short speech about Mexico, Republican Spain, and the greatness of Anibal +Tabio. + +Two more blocks of happy, cheering Hermanitos. Vivas, salutes for the +American flag and the Mexican uniform. Men in dungarees and heavy shoes +saluting the flag and the uniform with clenched fists. Young women and +old men who embraced Hall and Duarte. Even an ancient with a +nicotine-yellowed white beard, who wiggled out of one crowd, tore the +flag out of Hall's hand, kissed it, and then handed it back to the +American with an embrace and a viva for Voodro Veelson. + + * * * * * + +They were relaxing over a beer in Duarte's office when the explosion +came. + +"What the hell...?" Hall cried. + +There were two explosions. A little one, like the crack of a distant +artillery piece in the mountains and then a louder, deep-toned whoosh of +a noise. They had both heard such noises before. + +"Remember that noise, Mateo?" + +Hall was on his feet. "Do I! Only one thing makes a noise like that," he +said. "Direct hit on a gasoline tank." + +"Exactly." + +While they were washing, the sun had begun to set. Now a new sun had +risen in the skies of San Hermano, risen at a point about a mile north +of the Embassy. A great sheet of flame had shot from the ground, +stabbing at the purpling skies, straining to leap clear of the round +heavy blobs of black smoke which rose from the same place and surged +over and around the fires. + +The streets were more crowded than they had been when Hall and Tabio +left the Congress. New signs had been added to the placards and +portraits of Tabio which the people carried. Tremendous sketches and +blown-up photos of Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin and Chiang Kai-shek, +nailed to frames with handles for two men, bobbed over the heads of the +crowds. Duarte, from the balcony, asked the people on the street what +had happened. They thought it was a victory bonfire. + +"The hell it is, Felipe. Let's see for ourselves." + +"I must stay and write my cable. You go and then come back here." + +"Can you lend me a car and a chauffeur?" + +"You couldn't drive a car through these crowds. You'll have to walk. +Leave through the back way. It opens on a narrow street leading to the +Avenida de la Liberacion. You'll save time." + +Hall found the narrow street deserted. He set out at a fast pace, his +eyes on the flames and the increasingly heavy puffs of smoke. The shouts +of the crowds on the broad avenues and the plazas followed him up the +small street. Over the cries of the Hermanitos came the wail of the +sirens, the clamor of the bells on the American fire engines the city +had purchased a few years back. + +The crowd half-pushed, half-guided Hall to the entrance of the Ritz. He +ducked into the lobby to catch his breath, bought some cigars at the +stand, lit one, and then decided to have a quick drink. + +Margaret Skidmore was at the bar with Giselle Prescott and a young man +Hall had met at the Embassy ball. The Prescott woman was wearing an +immense wheel of a white hat. She was very drunk. + +"What's up?" Hall asked. + +"The Reds blew up a church," Margaret said. "How are you, Matt? I heard +that you were out on a monumental bender. Too many women?" + +"Too much alcohol." Then, to the man with the girls, "Didn't we meet at +the Embassy party? My name is Hall." + +"I'm the Marques de Runa." + +"Spanish?" + +Margaret answered for him. "No. Not exactly. The family had the title +revalidated in 1930." + +Giselle Prescott shuddered over an emptied glass. She whispered +something about rum, romanism and rebellion. + +"What's eating her?" Hall asked Margaret. + +"Gin and communism. She's allergic to burning churches." + +"My father phoned the governor of our province and demanded soldiers to +protect the family estates," the young Marques said. "It is scandalous. +We hear that they've already raped a nun and killed two priests. My +father says that if El Tovarich ..." + +"Who saw the church burning?" Hall interrupted. + +"Everyone, señor." + +"Any of you?" + +Silence. "Any of you?" he repeated. + +"It was anarchy," the Marques said. "When El Tovarich started to rant in +Congress today the Reds swarmed into the city from the wharves. They +tore a religious poster from my cousin's arms and beat him within an +inch of his life." + +"Is that a fact?" Hall was staring at the gold emblem of the Cross and +Sword in the Marques' lapel. "That's too bad." + +"You see what I meant," Margaret said. "Now you understand me, Matt." + +"Sure. Now I understand. How about you, Giselle?" + +"What about me? I'm filing for the WP today." + +"Then you'd better come with me. I'm going to have a look at this +burning church. Might be good color stuff." + +"I don' wanna look," she said. "Gives me hives. Besides, I know all +about it anyway." + +Hall put his arm through Margaret's. "Let's you and me look, then," he +said. + +"Don't go!" the Marques cried. "You're both dressed too well. They'll +kill you." + +"I'd better not go with you, Matt." + +"But I insist. I'm going and you're coming with me." + +They watched de Runa stiffen. "Now don't be a child," she said. "Hall +will bring me back intact." + +"Don't go," the Marques said. + +Hall freed his hands. For a moment he thought he would have to use them +on the Marques. Then Margaret tugged his arm. "Let's go if we're going," +she said. "You wait right here for me with Giselle, Freddie. I'll meet +you here in half an hour." + +The fire was five blocks from the Ritz. There was a half block heap of +glowing brick and rubble. Behind the rubble stood an old church, one +wall partially blown out. The firemen were playing streams of water into +and around this hole. + +"God!" Margaret said. "The stench!" + +"Oil. My guess is that a thousand gallons of oil went up in smoke." + +In the crowd standing at the rim of the fire lines, a taxi driver turned +around and glanced at Hall. "Some fire," he said. + +"What happened?" + +"Garage. The Phoenix Garage went up in smoke. Blew a hole in the +Cathedral when it exploded." + +"The Phoenix Garage?" + +"That's what it is, señor." The driver moved closer to the gutted +rubble. + +"You wait here, Margaret. I'm going to talk to the firemen." He crossed +the fire lines, found his way to the engine captain near the main +hydrant. When he returned to Margaret, he gave her a complete report. +"The fire chiefs say that the Reds didn't blow up the church at all," he +said. "Seems as if the gasoline tanks in the garage caught fire by +themselves." + +Margaret laughed. "Don't tell Gis," she said. "She's already cabled a +story to the States that the Reds burned the church." + + + + +_Chapter eleven_ + + +Duarte knew about the Phoenix Garage before Hall returned to the Mexican +Embassy. "Commander New dropped in while you were at the fire," he +explained. "He told me." + +"Does he know anything else about it?" + +"Not about the fire. But he does know a little more about Fielding. He +says that Fielding's files have been cleaned out. There wasn't a single +copy of any of Fielding's reports when the British officials opened the +files." + +"But the British have all the dope, Felipe. Fielding's reports--at least +the ones he showed me--were all carbons of the reports he made to his +Embassy." + +"I know that. But if his reports are now in the hands of the Falange, +the Axis knows it too. It will give them time to cover their traces. It +will also put the finger on you. One of the things they did find in the +office was a note Fielding had made reminding himself to prepare copies +of certain reports for you, Mateo. That might explain what happened to +you in that Falangist café on the waterfront the other day. Fielding had +already been killed when you were drugged." + +Hall lay down on the couch in Duarte's office, took his shoes off. "I'll +be all right in a few minutes," he said. "I just need about ten minutes +of this." + +"I'll get some cold beer." + +"No. I don't need it. Listen, Felipe, do the British know that I was +drugged?" + +"I don't think so. I didn't tell them, anyway. I wouldn't, without your +permission." + +"Maybe you should tell them. It might do some good. But what are we +going to do now that we know about the fire? I still feel like a drunk +on a merry-go-round." + +Duarte laughed. "You can always get off and go home," he said. + +"No. It feels worse when I get off." + +"I did something this morning, Mateo. I sent word to General Mogrado +through one of our diplomatic couriers." + +"Mogrado? Of the Spanish air force?" + +"He's living in Mexico City now. I asked him to rush everything he could +get on Ansaldo. The largest Spanish Republican colony in the hemisphere +is in Mexico, you know. I figured that surely there must be one man +among the exiles--a doctor, a former Army officer, someone--who could +give us the dope on Ansaldo." + +"Sounds like a possibility." + +"We'll see." + +"Don't let me fall asleep here. I've got things to do." + +"Then get some rest. I've got to complete my report." Duarte turned to +his typewriter, glanced at what he had written on the sheet in the +machine. "Mateo," he said, "I'm meeting Dr. Gonzales in an hour. We're +going to try to reach Lavandero with your Havana information on Ansaldo. +Will you join me?" + +"No. I have some unfinished business myself. I think that before the +night is over we'll know a lot more about Ansaldo." + +"What are you going to do?" + +Hall stifled a yawn. "I'm going to take a chance and shoot the works on +someone who can talk. It might work." + +"Be careful, Mateo. You look very tired." + +"I'll turn in early. Let's have breakfast at your place tomorrow, eh?" + +Hall found a phone booth in a tobacco shop near the Embassy. He called +Jerry. + +"I knew it would be you," she said. "I was waiting for you to call, you +dog." + +"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I'm taking you to dinner." + +"I'm famished. Where are you?" + +"I can be at the Bolivar in about fifteen minutes. Meet me in the +lobby?" + +"All right. But hurry. And just in case you've forgotten what I look +like, I'll be wearing a red carnation." + +He became part of the growing multi-directional parade in the streets. +Nightfall had brought colored torches to the hands of many of the +Hermanitos, and hundreds of new huge portraits of the four leaders of +the United Nations. There was a new pattern to the street festivities. +Now whole groups of Hermanitos, each marching behind a picture of one of +the four statesmen, made their way through the crowds to the embassies +of the United Nations and then to the Plaza de la Republica, where they +paraded their signs and their sentiments in front of all the government +buildings and the Presidencia. After that, the marchers joined the +milling groups of celebrators who just seemed to move around in slow +circles, singing, cheering, loudly wishing a long life to Anibal Tabio +and the United Nations. + +The darkened Plaza was packed, torches in the hands of hundreds of the +crowd bringing more light to the ancient square than had been seen there +since the nation had been forced to begin conserving its fuel. Hall cut +through the crowds toward the Bolivar, too excited to sense his fatigue. +This is a night I shall long remember, he thought, this is the night I +will tell my children about if I ever have any children. This is the +night that I saw the power of the common people, the night I saw +democracy take to the streets of a nation's capital and tell the world +that fascism's day of cheap triumphs is done. This is the night of the +meek who shall yet inherit the earth. + +Through the shoulders of the crowd, he could see Jerry's red hair. As he +drew closer, he saw that she had two little girls in her arms. The +children were crying wildly, the tears choking in their throats and +coursing down their contorted faces. + +"There, there," Jerry was saying to them, "everything will be all right. +You're only lost. We'll find out where you belong." But the strange +foreign words only added to the terror in the frightened hearts of the +girls. + +"What happened?" Hall asked Jerry. + +"They're lost. I was afraid they'd get trampled or something, Matt." + +He spoke to the kids in their own language, soothing, silly words. Then +he took them in his arms while Jerry dried their tears with a perfumed +handkerchief. Between sobs, the little girls told Hall that they had +slipped out of the house to see the fiesta and had been having a swell +time until the crazy lady swooped them up, talking crazy words and +keeping them from going on their way. + +"Do you know where you live?" he asked them. They pointed toward their +own house. "We will take you there. And don't call the señorita a crazy +lady, little ones. She is your friend." + +"Are they lost?" Jerry asked. + +"Hell, no. Just tourists. Let's get them home, first." + +The girls lived nearly a mile from the Bolivar. They watched the +paraders in silence while Hall carried them to their house, but when he +reached their block the girls insisted that they could walk the rest of +the way. "No," he laughed, "I'm taking you right to your door. And I'm +waiting in the street until you come to your window and throw me a +kiss." + +The girls, who had less than a dozen years between them, giggled and hid +their heads in his shoulders. "We won't throw you a kiss," the older of +the sisters said, shyly. "You aren't our _novio_." + +"These little devils!" he laughed to Jerry. The girls began to squirm in +his arms. "No, little ones," he told them, "I won't make any more crazy +talk like the señorita." + +"This is our house." + +He put them down on the first steps. "Now hurry," he said. "Upstairs +with you, and be quick!" + +They scrambled up the stairs. "They're sweet," Jerry said. For a brief +moment, the faces of the two little girls appeared at the open window on +the first floor. Then the ample figure of a woman in a white cotton +dress loomed behind them. + +"Let's scram before they catch it," Hall said, but he was too late. The +shrill cries of the girls, as their mother flailed their behinds with a +righteous hand, followed Hall and Jerry down the street. + +"Me and my Good-Neighbor policy," Jerry said. "It's all my fault." + +"They deserve it. What would you do to your kids if they joined a +stampede?" + +Jerry had to laugh. "The same thing, I guess. But what's all the +celebrating about? Is it the local Fourth of July?" + +"No. But I have a funny feeling that in years to come it might be. Your +patient started it." + +"Tabio?" + +"President Anibal Tabio. He decided not to die today. He got out of bed +and addressed the opening session of the Congress and called for war on +the Axis." + +"You're kidding me again, Matt." + +"The hell I am. I was there. I saw him myself." + +"But he's paralyzed, Matt." + +"He spoke from a wheel chair." He told Jerry about the speech, and as +they walked through the dense crowds toward a restaurant, he translated +some of the signs carried by the people who swarmed on all sides of her. + +"_Abajo el Eje_--that's down with the Axis. And that one says Long live +the United Nations. _Mueran los Falangistas_--death to the Falangists." + +"What are they, Matt?" + +"The Spanish fascists. Hadn't you heard of them before?" + +Jerry shook her head. "I still don't see how he got out of bed. He must +have done it on nerves alone. I was at the lab all day with Marina and +Tabio's X-rays." + +"He delivered a great speech, Jerry." + +"I'll bet he did. I guess nothing can stop this country from joining the +democracies now, Matt." + +"No," he said. "Nothing but Gamburdo--if Tabio dies." + +They had to wait on a street corner while a line of students carrying +red torches snake-danced across their path. + +"Where are we eating?" she asked. + +"I know a wonderful place facing the sea wall. It's very plain, but the +food is stupendous. We'll have to walk, though." + +"I'm game. It's fun walking in these crowds tonight. It's almost like +New Year's Eve in New York." + +The restaurant was packed. The waiter had to put an extra table on the +sidewalk for Hall and Jerry. "It's better from here anyway," Hall told +her. "We can see the ocean and get away from the din inside." + +A hundred happy men and women jammed the interior of the restaurant, +singing to the music of the small orchestra, toasting the slogans which +were all over San Hermano this night. Hall invited the waiter to drink a +toast in sherry to Don Anibal, and then he ordered lobster salads and +steaks for Jerry and himself. + +"I missed you," he told Jerry and, hearing his words, he was startled to +realize that he meant them. + +"You're just lonely. But I like to hear you say it." + +"No. I really missed you." + +"What's wrong, Matt? You look all in." + +"Nothing," he said. "I've had a long day. What do you think of this +lobster salad?" + +Small talk. Make small, polite talk about lobsters and cabbages, talk +about the weather and your neighbor's garden, talk about anything before +you start talking love talk and then you'll forget why you have to talk +to her at all. "You're beautiful tonight," he said, softly. + +"I'm ignoring you, Hall." + +Good. Banter. Nice cheap café-society banter. Have to play the game as +she is played; silly brittle talk about nothing. Break her down, keep +her off guard, keep your own guard up. Talk about the lobster. Talk +about the steak. Make vacuous wise-cracks over the coffee. Now she's +pleased with the guava pastry. Be the man of the world. Talk about +guava. + +"You're talking down at me, Matt. I told you once before. I'm not really +stupid." + +"God, I'm sorry," he said. "I must have been groggy all through dinner." + +"You sounded it." + +"Can you walk?" + +"I'm too full." + +"Let's sit on the sea wall. It's the pleasantest spot in town." + +Hall bought a paper from a passing newsboy. They walked along the sea +wall for a block, and then he spread the paper out on top of the wall +and lifted Jerry to the broad ledge. They sat facing the sea, not saying +much of anything. + +"The beach looks so clean," she said. "Do you think ..." + +He leaped to the sand. "Take my hand," he said, "and bring the paper +with you." He spread the papers on the sand, laid his jacket over the +papers, and sprawled on the makeshift pallet. Jerry sat near him, took +his head in her lap. + +"Poor Matt! You're so tired. Want to tell me about it?" + +"About what?" + +She stroked his face with soft, gentle hands. "About what's bothering +you, darling. Something terrible is happening to you." + +"There's nothing wrong." + +"You're such a bad liar, darling. I can see it in your face." + +"Only that?" + +"It's enough. That is, when you care for a guy." + +"You're sticking your chin out, baby." + +"No, I'm not. You're really a very gentle person. But you want to be +hard as nails, don't you, Matt?" + +"I don't know what I want to be, baby. I'd like to see the world a good +place for little guys who like republics. I'd like to kill the bastards +who are fouling up such a world. It sounds very big, I know. But I'm not +big. I'm a little guy and I like the world of little people. Or don't I +make sense?" + +"I think I understand you, Matt." + +"Later I'll read you Tabio's speech. Or at least the high lights, in +English. You'll get a pretty good idea of the things I believe in." + +"What was it like on the other side, Matt? In the war, I mean. Or don't +you want to talk about the war?" + +It's now or never, he thought. Tell her about the war, tell it to her +straight. If she's ever going to see it, she's got to see it now. "I +don't like to talk about it," he said, "but I will. I guess I owe it to +you to talk about it. I was there when it started, and I kept hollering +that it had started, but no one would believe me." + +"In Poland?" + +"Hell, no! In Madrid. The summer of '36. I reached Madrid in the fourth +week of July, and by September I'd seen enough of the Nazis and the +Italians to know it was World War Two." The words came easily, the whole +fabric. Tabio had told the story as a historian. This was the other way +it could be told, the way of the eyewitness, of the partisan. He told +her everything, about the fighting in Spain and about the slaughter of +the innocents; about the grotesque ballets of death and disintegration +on the green tables of Geneva; about the arrows of Falange, reaching out +from the festers of Spain to the New World. Everything but the role of +Ansaldo. + +"Now," he said, "I think you can guess why I'm so bothered about this +war, why I sometimes act as if I have a very personal stake in it. +Please try to understand what I mean, Jerry." + +She was silent for a long moment. "I think I do," she said. "For the +past few days I've been thinking about the war. Ever since--oh, you know +since when. I've been thinking that if I don't do anything else, maybe +I'll join the Army as a nurse when we leave here." + +"You've got it bad, haven't you?" + +"I don't know what I've got, darling. All I know is that I don't have +the right to be a Me Firster any more. Do you think I'm right about +that?" + +"Baby, listen to me. You don't have to go to Bataan to get into the war. +It's spread everywhere. The front stretches from Murmansk to Manila to +San Hermano. And it's the same front." + +"But what can I do here?" + +Hall drew a deep breath. "Let's both have a cigarette," he said. "This +is going to take some telling." He sat up, faced the girl, took her +hands and held them firmly. "Now, what I'm going to say might sound +harsh, Jerry. But you'll simply have to believe me." + +"What is it, Matt?" + +"How much do you know about Dr. Ansaldo?" + +"Only that he's a nice guy. He's never made a pass at me, he behaves +like a gentleman, and he's one crack surgeon. Don't tell me he's no +good, Matt. I just won't believe it." + +"You'll have to believe me," Hall insisted. "What do you know about +Ansaldo's past? Do you know where he was during the Spanish War?" + +"I haven't the faintest idea. Do you know?" + +"Sure, I do. I saw him." Hall described his first meeting with Ansaldo. +As he spoke, Jerry abruptly withdrew her hands. Trembling, she backed +away from him, started to get up. + +"What's wrong?" he asked. + +"I wish you hadn't made love to me," she said, simply. "Now I feel +cheap--and used." + +"Don't say that. I ..." + +"You know it's true. You're not just another newspaperman. And you don't +give a damn about me. It was Ansaldo you were interested in from the +beginning. That's why you were on the same plane with us on the way +here. And that's why you ..." + +"You mean I'm a G-man? Don't be absurd." + +"Don't make it worse by calling me a fool. I liked you. I liked you a +lot. Don't make it worse now, Matt." + +"But you're dead wrong." He tried to put his arms around her. She shook +him off. "Believe me," he said, "I'm not government. You were right--but +only partially--about my original interest in your party. But tonight I +wish to hell it were only Ansaldo who interests me. It would make things +a lot easier all around. The other morning I was watching Marina when a +Spanish ship came in. Someone didn't want me to watch. I was drugged. +That's why I disappeared for a few days. It damn near finished me. I've +got something on Ansaldo--before I'm through I hope to have enough to +hang him. I mean it literally. I'm trying to have him fitted for the +same grave he thought I'd have. And it's going to be simple. What won't +be simple is convincing the authorities here that you were an innocent +bystander in the whole affair. Do you think I would talk to you this way +if things were as you suspect they are with me?" + +"I don't know what to think, Matt." + +"Don't stop liking me," he said. + +"Take me back to the hotel, please. I'm all confused. I want to believe +you. Honestly I do. But what am I supposed to do? You give me the choice +of matching one line against the other, and all the time I'll be +wondering if both lines aren't fakes." + +"Listen to me, baby ..." + +"Don't 'baby' me. You've got sand on your jacket. No, don't, Hall. Just +take me back to the hotel, please." + +They walked to the sea wall in silence. Hall made a step for Jerry with +his hands, boosted her to the top of the wall. "I'll try to find you a +cab," he said. "But before we turn in, I'm telling you again that I'm +not government. I'm exactly what I said I am. Believe me, Jerry. Please +believe me." + +"I don't know what to believe any more." + +"But you do believe what I said about Ansaldo, don't you?" + +"I don't know," she said, miserably. "Haven't you asked enough questions +for one night? Show me your badge and subpoena me or something to the +American Embassy and I'll tell you all I know. Which is nothing. I don't +know any more than I've already told you." + +Hall was flagging every passing car. "They're all private," he muttered. +"We'll never get a cab tonight. And for God's sake, stop sniffling. Even +if I am a G-man I won't bite you." + +"You shouldn't have played me for a sucker, Hall." + +"I didn't play you for anything." + +"Don't say any more, Hall. Please don't." + +Her attitude infuriated him. Furiously, he flagged a passing car, biting +his lips in anger and frustration. He fought against yielding to his +anger. "Jerry," he said, "there's one thing I'll have to ask you to do. +I'm asking as a private citizen. But whatever you think I am, you'll +have to do this one thing. I must insist that you don't tell Ansaldo +anything about our conversation or about my having been in Spain." + +"Is that an order?" + +"Yes," he roared. "Yes, damn you, it's an order!" + +One of the cars he had flagged slowed down, pulled over to where he +stood with Jerry. But it was not a taxi. It was a small chauffeur-driven +town car. The young Marques de Runa sat alone in the back seat. + +"Good evening," he smiled. "Can I give you and your young lady a lift? +You'll never be able to get a public car tonight." + +"Thanks." Hall took Jerry's elbow, pulled her toward the door. He made +the introductions, then climbed in after Jerry and shut the door. "We +were just going to the Bolivar," he said. + +"Were you trying to escape from the mobs?" the Marques asked. + +"No. The lady has a bad cold. We thought the sea air might do it some +good." + +"You should try the mountain air," the Marques said. "I always take to +the mountain air when I have a cold, Señor Hall. Don't you think the +mountain air is better?" + +Hall let the question go unanswered. He was looking into the mirror over +the driver's seat, studying what he could see in the small glass of the +chauffeur's face. + +"The mountain air, Señor Hall." + +"Oh, yes. Very dry. Perhaps the lady will try the mountain air. What do +you think, Jerry?" + +"No, thank you," she said, sharply. "I have hallucinations on mountain +tops." + +The Marques thought this was very funny. But not too unusual, he +hastened to add. "For example," he said, "once when I was on a skiing +week-end in Austria, three members of our party saw an apparition." He +chattered amiably about the experiences on that and other skiing trips, +directing his words solely to Jerry. Hall ignored them both. He was +still staring at the mirror, and, after catching the chauffeur's eyes +for the second time, he knew definitely that the man at the wheel was +the little dog who had trailed him to the Ritz and then driven off after +Ansaldo's limousine with Androtten as his passenger. + +It was only when the car was less than a block from the Bolivar that +Hall spoke again. "It's too bad," he said, his eyes trying to focus both +on the mirror and on de Runa, "it's too bad about the Phoenix Garage +blowing up today." + +The chauffeur and the Marques started. + +"But--why?" the Marques asked. + +"Oh, I don't know. It's just that an officer in the British Embassy was +telling me just the other day that the Phoenix Garage was one of the +most fascinating establishments in San Hermano. I was planning to visit +the garage myself tomorrow. I'm interested in garages, you know." + +The chauffeur stopped the car in front of the Bolivar with an abrupt +slamming of his brakes. + +Hall laughed. "Your chauffeur was daydreaming, I think." + +The Marques laughed, or tried to laugh, as if Hall had just made one of +the funniest remarks ever heard in San Hermano. "That's what he is," the +Marques laughed, "a man who dreams by day. Very good, Señor Hall. +Excellent." + +Hall got out of the car, helped Jerry to the street. "Thank you again +for picking us up," he said. "And do something about your driver before +he starts driving into people in his sleep." + +The car was in gear and on its way down the street before the Marques +could make his answer heard. + +"What was so funny about your crack?" Jerry asked. + +"I'll tell you tomorrow. Are we still friends?" + +"Stop it, Matt. Just leave me alone tonight." + +"Sure," he smiled. "Sleep on it. But please to keep the mouth shut, +yes?" + +"I'm going to my room, Matt." + +"May I phone you in the morning?" + +Jerry ran into the hotel without answering. Hall stood in the street for +a moment, watching the receding crowds in the Plaza. They started to +become a blur in his heavy eyes. He entered the lobby. Souza was going +over a bill with two guests. Hall nodded to the night clerk, then went +into the small bar of the Bolivar to have a drink while Souza got rid of +the strangers. + +Only one of the four tables in the bar room was occupied. Androtten and +a San Hermano coffee dealer sat at this table, three open copper +canisters between them. The Hollander was driving a hard bargain for two +types of Monte Azul bean. + +"Mr. Hall," he smiled, "delighted to see you healthy again. Delighted as +hell." + +"Healthy again?" + +"Damn rumors have been spread about the hotel that you were ill, Mr. +Hall. Not seriously as hell, I hope? Why don't you join us? Mr. +Rendueles has been trying to make a deal with me on some fairly choice +bean." + +Hall downed his double Scotch. "No, thanks. I'd better get some sleep." + +"Yes. You look sleepy, Mr. Hall. I wonder if we'll ever find time +for--you know--my damn story. Eh?" + +"One of these days," Hall said. "We'll get the complete story, +Androtten. All the facts, in complete detail. Good night." He paid for +his drink and went to the desk in the lobby. + +"Your key," Souza said. "I have it right here." + +"Thanks. What's new?" + +"Oh, nothing, señor. Nothing at all." Souza was being profoundly +impersonal. "I hope you are feeling better, señor. Oh, yes, message in +your box." + +The message was from Souza himself, and the ink was not yet dry. "I +can't speak now," it read. + +"Thank you. Good night." Hall put the message in his pocket and went to +his room. + +He flung himself across the bed, yielding to the fatigue that was +tearing at every nerve and muscle in his body. In the dark, he managed +to get rid of his shoes and his suit, letting them drop to the floor +when he had taken them off. He tried to think of all that had happened +that day, of what he would have to do tomorrow. The fading shouts of the +crowds in the Plaza grew fainter. The bed grew softer. He fell asleep. + +The phone bell woke him in a few minutes. Souza was calling. "Señor +Hall, the drinks you ordered are on the way upstairs," he said. "I am +sorry for the delay, but we have a new waiter, and he is not accustomed +to our system yet." + +"Oh, I get it." The _cabrón_ of a night waiter was gone. The invisible, +detested _cabrón_ whom Hall had never seen. He half expected Miguelito +or Juan Antonio to be standing in the hall when he heard the knock on +the door. Instead, there was a short, swarthy man in his forties, +balancing a tray of brandy and soda in his right hand, a professional +waiter down to his flat feet and his bland smile. + +"Shall I bring it in, señor?" + +"Please. Set it down here, on the little table." + +The waiter closed the door, put the tray down. "_Compañero_ Hall," he +said, the bland smile gone, "permit me to introduce myself. I am Emilio +Vicente, delegate of the Waiters' Union." He shook Hall's hand, then +gave him a calling card. It was Major Segador's private card. + +"Turn it over, _Compañero_ Hall." + +The short message on the reverse side indicated that Hall was to trust +Vicente. + +"I am happy to know you," Hall said. "Will you have a drink with me?" + +"Some other time, _compañero_. Tonight I have a message. Major Segador +suggests that should you need any assistance in a hurry, you can call +upon me. I am at your orders." + +"Thank you." + +Emilio Vicente picked up his tray. "_Compañero_," he said, "it might +seem a little dangerous, but the Major assured us that you do not lack +for _cojones_." + +"What?" + +"Good night, _Compañero_ Hall. You look as if you could use some sleep." + + + + +_Chapter twelve_ + + +Hall slept through the morning. He rose at noon, staggered into a cold +tub, and then ordered a breakfast of steak and eggs. Vicente wheeled the +table into the room. + +"I have been thinking of the major's offer," Hall said. "There's +something you can do for me. Do you know anything about the Marques de +Runa?" + +"Yes. He's a Falangist. His family owns one of the biggest import and +export companies in the country. The young one works there, too." + +"What is he up to now?" + +"Perhaps we can find out." + +"Good. Do you know anything about his chauffeur?" + +"No. But we can find out." + +"Do you mind if I ask Pepe Delgado to check up too?" + +"Not at all, _compañero_. He is very reliable." + + * * * * * + +San Hermano had settled back to her old routines when Hall left his +room. The trolleys ran, cars moved along all the streets, the loud +speakers on the poles and buildings had been taken down, and street +sweepers were groaning over the litter of signs and papers they +themselves had helped scatter over the whole city the day before. +Yesterday's crowds had gone back to their jobs, their homes, their own +quarters. + +The papers had little news about Tabio's condition. They carried his +speech and, in most cases, described the events which had followed +Tabio's speech as a spontaneous demonstration on the part of the people. +_El Imparcial_ merely said that a great crowd had heard the speech over +the public amplifiers and that Red hoodlums had severely beaten some +anti-communists who had joined the crowd in the Plaza to listen to the +address of the President. + +Hall scanned the papers at a café table in Old San Hermano while Pepe +went to telephone some friends who were doing some further checking on +the Marques de Runa. The information Pepe received over the telephone +was very brief. At six o'clock that morning, the Marques de Runa and his +chauffeur had taken a plane for Natal from the San Hermano airport. + +"Wait for me in the car." Hall went to a phone himself, called Margaret +Skidmore. + +"Hi, Pirate," she said. "Getting lonesome for the farm?" + +"Sure. How about you?" + +"I can't get away this week," she said. "How about the week-end?" + +"I'll have to let you know tomorrow. Tell me, Margaret, how well do you +know the Marques de Runa?" + +"Very well. Why?" + +"Oh, nothing much. I left my notebook in his car last night, I think." + +"I know. He told me." + +"About the notebook?" + +"No. About your red-headed girl friend. She sounds like a good +substitute for farming." + +"Cut it out," Hall laughed. + +"Is she the gal you were dreaming about at the wrong time one day last +week?" + +"No. But about my notebook. It's not too important, but I had some +interesting things in it, Margaret. I was wondering how to reach the +Marques." + +"It would be impossible today," she said. "He just left for Barcelona on +a business trip." + +"Is he a good friend of yours?" + +"Freddie? He's my fiancé." + +"You're kidding!" + +"No. I'm to be the Marquesa de Runa. Didn't you know?" + +"Does anyone else know it?" + +"Yes," she said. "He does. Now don't start cross-examining me about +that! It's my affair." + +"I won't. You always know what you're doing." + +"Thanks. I feel like doing some plowing over the week-end. With you. +Let's talk about it then, if it still interests you. And in the +meanwhile, I'll have someone look through the car for your notebook." + +"Thanks a lot." + +Hall went to the car. "Let's go back to the hotel," he said, "and find +Souza. Or is the day clerk reliable?" + +"Don't worry," Pepe said. "Arturo can be trusted. That's why Souza got +him the job." + +"We have a lot to do, Pepe. I want to search the room of the Dutchman, +Androtten. We'll need all the help we can get." + +They found the task very simple. Androtten had left that morning with a +small handbag on what he described to the clerk as a two-day buying trip +in the south. With the day clerk standing guard at the phone and Vicente +lounging in the hall to sound any needed alarm, Hall and Pepe entered +the Dutchman's room with a pass key and drew the blinds. + +There was a picture of Androtten and what was evidently his family in a +portable leather frame on the bureau. It showed Androtten and a fat +blond matron sitting at a table, with a youth in his teens at +Androtten's left and a little girl leaning at the woman's knee. "He's a +family man," Pepe said. + +"We'll see." Hall went through the wastebasket, the clothes hanging in +the closet, every drawer in the bureau. He examined every piece of +luggage for false sides and bottoms, hidden compartments, and stray +papers. In the traveling bag he found in the closet, Hall discovered a +heavy brown envelope. Inside was the picture of a young colonial +Netherlands officer and a letter from the Dutch Government-in-Exile. The +letter regretted to inform Androtten that his esteemed son, Lieutenant +Wilhelm Androtten II, had perished fighting the Nazi invaders in the +battle for the Lowlands, and had been posthumously awarded the second +highest decoration the Queen gave such heroes. Hall had to guess at the +contents of the letter, using his German as a basis for deciphering the +Dutch. + +"Does this look like that boy grown up?" he asked Pepe. + +"I think so, Mateo. What does the letter say?" + +Hall gave him the gist of the letter as he understood it. "But I still +think he's a fraud, Pepe. Let's examine the labels on his clothes +again." + +The labels revealed only what Androtten had already indicated. London, +Amsterdam, New Orleans, Rio. He had purchased no clothes in San Hermano. + +"Let's get out of here, Pepe." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"I've got to write a letter in my room. But wait for me. I think we're +going to visit Duarte when I've got the letter finished." + +His own room, he soon discovered, had also been searched that day. The +lock on his traveling bag had been picked, and the stethoscope was +missing. He flung the new straw hat in the closet and went to the lobby. +Pepe was talking to the day clerk. He grinned at Hall, asked, "So soon?" + +"I changed my mind." Then, to the clerk, "Where is Miss Olmstead? At the +University laboratory?" + +"No, señor. She went to the country with the two doctors." + +"Do you know where exactly?" + +"No. Only that she went to the country. They will not be back tonight. +They left an hour ago." + +"Come on, Pepe. We have to get started." + +They sat down in the car. "First stop the Mexican Embassy," Hall said. +"But wait there for me. I won't be too long." + +"What happened?" + +"My room was searched. The stethoscope is missing." + +"That means trouble, Mateo." + +"Sure. It also means that someone was careless. Where the hell were +Arturo and Vicente?" + +"It's a big hotel, Mateo. We were talking about it only this morning. +Duarte wants you to stay with him in his house for the night." + +"What do you think about it?" + +"Duarte is right." + +"But I have a good gun, Pepe. And good friends." + +"I know that, Mateo. But stay with Duarte tonight. I think that tonight +someone else should sleep in your bed. Duarte suggested three pillows or +a log. Then, in the morning, if there are no bullet holes in the +pillows ..." + +"Or the log ..." + +"... or the log, then you can say it was a mistake to sleep at Duarte's +house tonight. Someone followed me this morning, Mateo. I drove him +crazy, but I couldn't get a look at him myself. It was very funny. But +it is also serious." + +Hall put the gun back in his pocket. "Maybe it is," he said. "I'll stay +with Duarte." + +"It is the right thing to do, Mateo. I'll leave you with Duarte. I have +to see Souza and some other friends tonight." + +Pepe waited at the curb until Hall was admitted to the Mexican Embassy. +Then, his eyes sweeping the streets for signs of anyone shadowing him on +foot or by automobile, he took the most roundabout route he could devise +to reach the Transport Workers' Union headquarters. + +Duarte had had no word from General Mogrado. "I'm sure he met the +courier," he told Hall. "But I'm worried by his silence. It is not like +him." + +"Give him another night, Felipe. In the meanwhile, I'll send another +letter to Havana. I just can't believe that the evidence on Ansaldo is +not available on this side of the ocean. If it's nowhere else, it must +be in Havana." + +"Why are you so sure?" + +"Because I know Havana. I know what the Spanish Republicans and the +secret police must have there. I tell you, Felipe, we can hang Ansaldo +in Havana. Do you remember where and how I first saw Ansaldo in Burgos? +Well, there was a photographer standing and working in front of me for +hours that day. I know who he was, Felipe. He was the man from _Arriba_. +I don't doubt but that either the Spaniards or the Cubans have a +complete file of _Arriba_ in Havana. And I'm willing to bet my bottom +dollar that I'll find those pictures of Ansaldo in that file." + +"I hope so, Mateo. But I hope you don't have to go. Are you very tired?" + +"I could stand an hour's sleep before dinner." + +"We'll go to the house. Dr. Gonzales might join us for dinner. And +Lavandero is going to try to join us after dinner." + +They went to Duarte's house in one of the Embassy's cars. Hall stretched +out on the couch under the mural of Madrid and fell asleep in a few +minutes. It was some while before he was rested enough to dream, and +then the figures in the mural above the couch began to move through his +sleep in a macabre procession. + +Duarte woke him in an hour. "Twice you yelled in your sleep," he said. +"And then you started to twist like a chained snake. Bad dreams, Mateo?" + +"I guess so," Hall said, his fingers working the muscles at the back of +his neck. "I always dream about the bombardments when I feel bad." + +"Gonzales and Lavandero can't meet us tonight. They're both at the +Presidencia. I think Tabio is getting weaker." + +"Is that what they told you?" + +"No. They just said they couldn't meet us." + +"Too bad. What have you got cooking?" + +"I don't know, _amigo_. I hired a new cook and she won't allow me to put +my face in the kitchen." + +"She must be a smart cook." + +"We'll find out in a few minutes. I forgot to tell you, but Gonzales had +some news for us tonight. He says that Gamburdo is planning to delay the +actual start of Congress for another week. His game is to allow the +present high feelings of the people to cool down a bit before the +Congress starts its business." + +Hall was puzzled. "I don't quite understand the maneuver," he said. + +"The Congress has to choose a delegation for the Inter-American parley, +and to compose its mandate. Gamburdo still wants a delegation committed +to neutrality." + +"Can he get away with it?" + +"Who knows? He was a long way toward success when Don Anibal stopped +him. The real question is how long can Don Anibal be counted on to get +out of bed and fight for an anti-fascist war policy?" + +A soft rain had started to fall while Hall was sleeping. It splashed +gently against the open shutters of the cottage, embracing the house, +the palms and the papaya trees on the grounds, its soft rhythms throwing +Hall into a small boy's melancholy. He talked little during dinner, and +when he did, it was to subject Duarte to his reminiscences of rainy days +when he was very young. + +They swapped yarns for hours, listened to Duarte's endless collection of +Mexican and flamenco records, and killed a bottle of black rum. + +"I'm going to sleep until noon," Hall said when they quit for the night. + +But his sleep was cut short very early in the morning by Pepe, who +arrived with the news that Jerry had returned from the country late at +night and was trying desperately to contact Hall. + +He phoned her at once. + +"Matt," she said, "can you come over right away? I think that I owe you +an apology." + +Jerry was waiting for him in her room. She had not had any sleep for a +full night, and her eyes showed it. Hall noticed that the two ash trays +in the room were filled to the rims with fresh cigarette stumps. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"I'm out of cigarettes. Have you got any?" + +"Only Cubans. They're very strong." + +She accepted one, choked a bit on the first puff, then continued +smoking. + +"Give," he said. "What happened?" + +"You were right, I think. I can't swear to it, but I'm sure I recognized +his voice. The little Dutchman, I mean." + +"Androtten?" + +She nodded. "He was at the ranch. I'm certain of it." + +"Wait a minute, baby. Sit down. Relax. Now start from the beginning. +What ranch?" + +"Oh, I thought you knew. I went to Gamburdo's brother's ranch with +Ansaldo and Marina. Doctor was ripping mad. There was entirely too much +interference in the Tabio case, he said, and he'd called for a showdown. +He said he was going to stay on the ranch for a few days, or at least +until the politicians who were interfering with him would come to their +senses. He said we'd all just take a holiday until we could go back to +work." + +"Who else was at the ranch?" + +"Gamburdo's brother, two men I've never seen before, and our hostess." + +"Were you introduced to the two men?" + +"No, that's just it. They were not there when we arrived. They came on +horseback after we'd been there for some hours. Señora Gamburdo said +they were merely neighbors who wanted to talk over a cattle deal with +her husband." + +"And what makes you think she was lying?" + +"I can't say, exactly, Matt. I didn't like the way she explained them to +me--it was as if she felt that I insisted upon an explanation. That was +when I decided to tell Ansaldo that I wanted to come back to town this +morning. I told him there was some shopping I'd neglected. He didn't +seem to object at the time." + +"When did Androtten arrive?" + +"I don't know. I told you--I didn't see him. I just heard his voice. It +was about five in the afternoon, I'd say. I was taking a dip in the +pool--alone. There was a puppy playing around the pool. He found one of +my red beach shoes and started to chew on it. Then he took the shoe in +his mouth and carried it over to the side of the house and left it near +a hedge. + +"It was when I went for the shoe that I heard Androtten. Some sort of a +conference was going on in the room above the spot where the pooch had +dropped my shoe. I recognized the voices of Ansaldo and Marina and the +two others. But most of the talking was being done by a new voice. I +thought I recognized it. Then he stopped speaking Spanish and switched +to German. I'm sure it was German." + +"What was he saying?" + +"I couldn't make it out. But he was very angry." + +"And it was Androtten?" + +"Definitely." + +"Could you see into the room?" + +"No. I didn't try, anyway. I was afraid. I just picked up my shoe and +beat it." + +Hall hesitated. He gave Jerry a fresh cigarette, lit it for her. "Could +they have seen you?" he asked. + +She shook her head. "But that's not the end of it," she said. "After +dinner, Ansaldo took me for a walk in the garden. He made a lot of small +talk about different cases. Then he asked me why I insisted upon +returning to town. I told him again that I wanted to buy some things to +take home for friends. He was very pleasant about it. He asked me, +half-seriously, if the real reason I wanted to go back was because I had +a date with you. He was acting the part of a jealous lover when he said +it." + +"Acting?" + +"I'm sure he was only acting. Because when he said that I just laughed +and said, 'Good heavens, no, doctor! The last time I saw Hall he said he +was going to make a small fortune writing the story of that little +Dutchman's experience with the Japs, and my guess is that he'll be +spending the next few days locked up in his room with the Dutchman.' + +"Ansaldo stopped dead in his tracks when I said that, Matt. He asked me +which Dutchman I mean--but only after he had caught his breath." + +"What did he say when you told him you meant Androtten?" + +"Nothing much. He made a joke--a bad one--about Flying Dutchmen. And +then he continued talking about medical cases." + +"And that was the last you saw of him?" + +"Just about. My train left at five-thirty this morning. He was asleep +when I left." + +"Who drove you to the station?" + +"Marina and a ranch hand. Marina was glad to see me go. He hates to see +me around Ansaldo." + +"Why? Is Ansaldo also a fairy?" + +"God, no!" Jerry laughed. "He's anything but." + +"You're exhausted. Let me get you some breakfast," he said. "And then, +when you catch your second wind, maybe you'll remember some other +details." + +"I'm sure I've told you everything, Matt." + +He picked up the phone, asked for Vicente. "Ham and eggs?" he asked +Jerry. + +"No. Just coffee and toast." + +Hall gave Vicente the order. "And one other thing," he told the waiter. +"The woman is in trouble. Some one will have to keep an eye on her +today. And let me know when the fat little foreigner on this floor +returns to town. He is a dangerous enemy." + +"All those words for coffee and toast?" Jerry asked. "I've learned a few +words, Matt. I know that _mujer_ is woman." + +"Good for you. I was asking him about his wife. She's been ill." + +"Oh." Jerry relaxed in her chair. "Tell me, Matt. What was it all about +at the ranch? There was something wrong there. I know. Why should +Ansaldo have wanted me around? And who is Androtten?" + +"That's a big order, baby. There's only one thing I definitely know +about it. I know that Ansaldo is a hot shot in the Falange. I know that +two Falange agents arrived in San Hermano on board a Spanish ship the +other day, and that they were traced to the ranch. But I can only guess +that the two neighboring _estancieros_ you saw were these two visiting +Falange agents." + +"And Androtten?" + +"Again I'm guessing. I know that a Nazi general named Wilhelm von Faupel +is the man who actually runs the Falange. I know something about the way +the Nazis work. O.K. So I assume that Androtten--if it really was +Androtten whose voice you heard--is a Gestapo agent. That would make +sense. Hitler orders Tabio's death; the job is handed to Hitler's +Falange, and a Gestapo officer tags along to run the show in San Hermano +as his comrades run it in Spain. It would all make sense if we could +prove that the two visiting _estancieros_ were the Falange agents off +the _Marques de Avillar_, and that Androtten was the man you heard." + +"Then why should they have wanted me around?" Jerry asked. + +There was a gentle rap on the door. "Time out for coffee," Hall smiled. +"_Entrada!_" + +The door was unlocked. The handle turned, and Wilhelm Androtten entered. +He took off his small Panama hat, fanned his red, puffy face with it. +"Ah," he sighed, "they told me at the desk that I would find you here, +Mr. Hall. Hot as hell, isn't it?" He put a large coffee canister on the +arm of a chair. "May I sit down?" he asked. + +"Of course." Hall glanced at Jerry, whose fingers were clenched tightly +on a large amber comb. "What can I do for you?" + +Androtten put the canister on his lap. "Oh, my dear Mr. Hall," he +sighed, his pudgy right hand resting on the lid of his tin. "I just +wanted to tell you that I am leaving for Rio on an extended buying trip +tomorrow. If you still are interested in my damn story, perhaps you +could spare me some time this afternoon, eh?" + +"I think it could be managed," Hall smiled. "Did you buy all the damn +Monte Azul bean you wanted, sir?" + +"Oh, yes. Oh, yes indeed, Mr. Hall. Fine, rich, full-bodied bean, +fragrant as hell. Please, I'll show you." Androtten opened the canister. +There was no coffee under the lid. Instead, there was a small automatic +pistol, equipped with a gleaming silencer. + +"Please," Androtten sighed, "no noise, please. I should hate to be +forced to shoot you both." + +Jerry stifled a muted cry. "You wouldn't dare," Hall said. + +"You are a fool, Hall. I hope you have already noticed that my gun is +equipped with the only silencer in this jungle of Indians and +blackamoors." + +"The Gestapo--you Nazis think of everything, don't you?" Hall said in a +rising voice. + +"I must remind you again not to shout, Hall. Please, lock your hands on +top of your head." + +Hall obeyed the order. + +"If the nurse co-operates, she will be spared." + +"For God's sake, Jerry, do anything the Nazi orders," Hall cried. "He +has a gun!" + +The little man with the gun angrily raised a finger to his lips. "Not +one word out of you," he whispered. He got out of the chair, started +backing toward the door. "Now," he said, "listen carefully, both of you. +For your information, Hall, I am not Gestapo. I am from the +Ibero-American Institute in Berlin. And that, I am afraid, is the last +information you will ever receive about anything, Hall." + +The comb in Jerry's hand snapped with a dry little crack. The sudden +noise startled Androtten. He raised the gun and fired just as Hall dove +for his feet. Three times the cough of a silenced gun sounded in the +room. The shots seemed to come all together. A split second after the +third shot was fired Hall had kicked the gun from the limp hand of the +Nazi and was sitting astride his chest with his hands locked on +Androtten's throat. He was oblivious to the noise at the balcony, to +Jerry, to everything but the man dying under him. + +A gentle hand tugged at Hall's shoulder. "Enough, Mateo. The _cabrón_ is +dead." + +Emilio Vicente had climbed into the room from the balcony. He had a +pistol in his hand. "The woman," he said. "She has fainted." + +Jerry was lying in a heap on the floor near her chair. "Christ, she was +hit!" Hall rushed to her side, examined her for bullet wounds. + +"No, Mateo. His bullet sailed over my head. My bullets both hit him. I +aimed for the heart. See, you are covered with his blood, no?" + +"Water." Hall was sitting on the floor, Jerry's head in his lap, a hand +clasped firmly over her mouth. He dipped a handkerchief into the glass +Vicente gave him, ran it over her face. "Jerry," he whispered, "promise +me you won't yell if I take my hand away? Everything is all right. His +shot missed us both, and now he's under control." + +She nodded. "I'm sorry I passed out," she said. + +"You're O.K. now." + +Vicente, standing over them, grinned at the girl. "_Sí_, you +_magnífica_," he said. "You make boom noise of comb. She"--he pointed to +Androtten, who lay under a blanket Vicente had found while Hall was +reviving Jerry--"she have much scare of boom, she shoot much badly. Me, +Emilio, shoot much good. She no good no more." + +"Is he dead? _Muerto?_" + +"Much dead." Vicente showed them his pistol. He pointed to his own +silencer. "I heard the son of a whore mother," he said to Hall, a +sardonic smile on his grim face. "When he gets to hell he will learn +that there were other silencers in this jungle." + +"You heard everything?" + +"But naturally, _compañero_. I followed him to the door and listened. +When you shouted to the woman that the Nazi had a gun, I knew you were +shouting for me. I have a gun, too. And a pass key. So I rushed into the +next room and climbed over to the balcony. It was not difficult." + +"You were very good. You saved our lives." + +"It is nothing." + +"I can get up, Matt," Jerry said. "I'd rather sit in the chair." + +Hall helped her to the chair, told her what Vicente had done. Vicente +laughed at Hall's account of his heroism. "It was nothing," he repeated. +"The Nazi was too fat to miss." + +"He's very messy," Hall said, looking at the blanket. + +"What are you going to do with the body?" Hall asked Vicente. + +"Feed it to the sharks." + +"Better fingerprint him and make photos of the face, first," Hall +advised. "And let Segador know immediately." + +"Be tranquil, _compañero_. All in good time. When you and the woman +leave, Pepe and I shall put the remains of this dog in a laundry basket +and get it out of here." Vicente looked at Jerry. "And I think you had +better get her out of this room. She is going to get sick if she stays +here." + +"You're right." Hall gave Jerry his hand. "Come on, nurse," he smiled. +"We're going to my room. This is no place for a lady." He helped her to +her feet. + +She held her hand out to Vicente. "You are very sweet," she said. +"_Usted mucho dulce._ Understand?" + +"Understand," he laughed. He kissed her hand. + +Hall had a bottle of brandy in his room. He poured two stiff drinks for +Jerry and himself. "Feel any better?" he asked. + +"It was awful for a few minutes. I was afraid he would kill you." + +"So was I, baby. I was afraid he'd kill me before I ever got around to +telling you how I felt. About you, I mean." + +"How do you feel about me?" + +He filled the glasses again. "Still think I'm a cop?" + +"I don't care. I guess you aren't, though." + +"Right." + +"I'd have died if he killed you. I love you, Matt." + +She was sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood over her, took the +glass from her hand. "You know how I feel, then," he smiled. + +"Darling," she said, raising her face, "didn't you think that I knew?" + +"Wait," he laughed. "I'm filthy with his blood. I'd better change my +clothes." + +He found a fresh suit and a clean shirt in his closet. "I'll change in +there," he said. + +"Darling," she said, while he was changing, "I still can't figure out +why Ansaldo wanted me at the ranch." + +"I think I can, baby. It's not so hard. Figure it out for yourself. The +beautiful American nurse is a complete political innocent. Sees all, +knows nothing. A perfect set-up. The Falangist doctors take you along to +San Hermano. You sit in the sickroom while Ansaldo examines Tabio. You +yourself work on the smears and the slides in the laboratory. You are +the clean, unbiased witness who can testify that scientifically all was +on the up and up. Your existence is proof that Ansaldo's visit was +legitimate. If anything was shady, he'd bring a Falangist nurse." + +"But why was I brought to the ranch?" + +"Same reasoning. Lavandero blocks Ansaldo's plans. Meanwhile, the +Falange sends two agents from Spain with the latest orders for Ansaldo. +He has to sneak out of town to confer with them. So does Androtten, the +Nazi boss of the expedition. Again Ansaldo takes the unbiased, +non-political nurse along. She is still the witness. She sees nothing +wrong at the ranch, and, after Ansaldo puts Tabio in the grave, if +anyone starts to suspect anything, they question the obviously innocent +American nurse and she backs Ansaldo's story. She really hasn't seen a +thing." + +"That is," Jerry said, "until the dumb American nurse stood under the +wrong window and heard Joe Nazi himself." + +"Exactly." + +"Then you think they know that I heard Androtten?" + +"I can't say. But just to play safe, you're moving out of this hotel to +where they can't find you. And right away. Not that they're not +prepared. Remember, you didn't _see_ Androtten. They know that much. By +now you can bet your bottom dollar that they have a coffee planter three +hundred miles from the Gamburdo ranch who will swear on a stack of +Bibles that Androtten was with him for the past three days, and a whole +slew of witnesses to back him up." + +"But won't it make them suspicious if I move?" + +"The hell with them, baby. It's you that counts now." + +"Then I'm staying. I won't spoil it for you by playing into their +hands." + +Hall took her in his arms. "You're wonderful," he said. "But ..." + +The phone began to ring. It was Dr. Gonzales. "Can you come over to the +Presidencia at once?" he asked. "Yes, very important. I am in Don +Anibal's apartment. Please, hurry." + +"I'll be right over." + +"What is it, Matt?" + +"Come on. We're going to the Presidencia. It sounds like the end." + + + + +_Chapter thirteen_ + + +The private elevator in the Presidencia was both carpeted and +bullet-proof, as it had been in General Segura's day. But the +magnificent bronze friezes of General Segura's capture of San Hermano +had long since been melted down to make medals, and in place of the +martial friezes there now hung a series of water colors painted by +grade-school children in the small villages. Every year, Hall explained +to Jerry as the car climbed to the fourth floor, a committee of the +Republic's leading artists chose twenty water colors submitted by the +schools for a place in this elevator. The students whose pictures were +chosen received medals made from the bronze frieze which had originally +hung in their places. + +Gonzales was waiting for them at the fourth-floor landing. "Are you all +right?" he asked Jerry, and without waiting for an answer he took Hall's +arm and started to walk down the long gilded corridor toward the private +library of the President. + +The library was large, perhaps forty feet square, the four walls were +lined with books from floor to ceiling. In one corner was an immense +mahogany writing table, clean now except for a drinking glass packed +with sharpened pencils and a large yellow foolscap pad. When Tabio was +well, this table was always piled high with books, most of them opened +and kept in place by an inkwell, a heavy watch, or another book. Today +there were no books on Don Anibal's table; instead, almost as if in +explanation, a padded steel and aluminum wheel chair stood empty near +the little corridor which led to the door of the President's bedroom. + +"Please, sit down." Gonzales indicated two leather chairs. + +"I'm in the way," Jerry said. "I don't belong here." + +"I had to take her along," Hall said. "It was a matter of her life. Is +there some place where she can rest while we--while we talk?" + +"Excuse me. I will make the arrangement." Gonzales stepped out of the +room. + +"What's happening?" Jerry asked. + +"I don't know. It looks bad. Whatever it is, don't cave in on me now. It +won't do anyone any good." + +"I'm all right now. But I'll probably have nightmares about today for +the rest of my life." + +Gonzales returned to the library with a middle-aged maid in a simple +uniform. "Please, nurse," he said, "this lady will escort you to a quiet +apartment. You will find brandy and a bed. I hope you will forgive us +and find comfort." His blue lips tried to smile at Jerry as she followed +the maid out of the library. + +"You're not well," Hall said. + +The blue lips tightened. "I'm a cardiac, you know. But it is not of +importance. Simon Tabio will join us in a moment. It is very serious, +_compañero_." + +"Don Anibal?" + +"Yes. Simon will tell you about the new development. He is young, but he +is very strong. He knows that Gamburdo is a traitor." + +"Has he told Don Anibal?" + +"The mere telling might kill him. We must have the proof before we tell +him." + +"The proof?" Hall started to tell the ailing doctor about Androtten when +Simon Tabio entered the library. + +"Ah, Simon. This is _Compañero_ Mateo Hall." + +"How do you do?" the boy said, in English. "I regret that we must meet +under such sad circumstances." + +"_El habla castellano, chico_," Gonzales said. + +"The sorrow weighs with equal weight in my own heart," Hall said. + +"_Compañero_ Hall was on the point of telling me some important news +when you came in, Simon. I think you should hear it." + +"I would like to hear it," Simon said. + +"Do you know about Corbeta the Falange agent and Jimenez the C.T.E. +radio operator being at the Gamburdo ranch with Ansaldo?" + +"Yes. Segador has kept me informed." + +"There was one other man at the ranch with them, a Nazi. An agent of the +Ibero-American Institute named Androtten. At least that was the name he +used. He reached San Hermano on the same plane which brought Ansaldo and +me." Hall told them of Jerry's accidental discovery and of the events +which followed and brought about the death of the Nazi. He told it in +very few words, his eyes taking in the uncanny resemblance between Simon +and his father. + +"My father is very ill, señor. We must be able to prove your story for +him." + +"He is my friend," Hall said. "He will believe me." + +"He is very ill. I believe you, of course. But what proof have we for my +father that Androtten was a Nazi agent? If you know my father at all +well, señor, you must surely know his passion for the truth. And we must +remember that in his illness ..." The boy's voice trailed off to +nothingness, and he turned away from his elders. + +"I think," Gonzales said, gently, "I think that you had better tell +_Compañero_ Hall about what happened this morning." + +Simon Bolivar Tabio dabbed at his reddened eyes with a white +handkerchief. "They are killing him," he said, brokenly. He paused to +swallow the painful lump in his throat, ashamed before the friends of +his father for his weakness. + +"There are many tears in San Hermano for Don Anibal," Hall said. "You +should be proud of your own." + +"This morning," Simon said, "Dr. Marina arrived here with a written +message for my mother from Dr. Ansaldo. The surgeon refused to operate +without the written permission of the entire Cabinet. He says in the +note that he refuses to predict how long my father can live without an +operation. He says that the operation must be performed immediately." + +"It is murder," Gonzales said. "Every doctor in San Hermano who has +examined Don Anibal swears that he is too weak to undergo an operation +right now." + +"He sent a copy of the note to each member of the Cabinet," Simon said. +"They refuse to discuss the question without my father's permission." + +"The dirty bastard," Hall said. + +"We were discussing you this morning," Gonzales said. "Lavandero and +Simon and myself. We think that if we get no further actual proof, we +will have to place a great burden on your shoulders, _Compañero_ Hall. +Don Anibal trusts you." + +"Do you want me to tell Don Anibal what I know?" + +"Not immediately. It would be too great a shock. Don Anibal would demand +proof even from you. But if he hears from you that you are here to +investigate the Falange and then if, say tomorrow, you come back +and tell him that you have run across some important information, +perhaps ..." + +"But have we time to break it to him in easy stages? Is +his--health--adequate?" + +"It is a chance we are forced to take," Simon said. "My father's health +is not--adequate--for a sudden shock." + +"You may be right. I have already notified Segador about Androtten. +Perhaps by tomorrow he will have established Androtten's real identity." + +"Then you will see my father now?" + +"I will do anything you ask, _compañero_." + +"Excuse me, then." Simon left the library. + +"Don Anibal is not going to live," Gonzales said when the boy left. "Not +even a miracle can save his life." + +The doctor was tearing the stopper from a small vial of adrenalin. He +held the open mouth of the vial to his nose and breathed deeply. + +"Adrenalin?" Hall asked. + +"It is nothing, _compañero_. Say nothing to Simon, please." A corner of +his blue underlip was growing purple in tiny spots. "I hear him now, +Mateo." + +The boy carried his shoulders proudly when he returned to the library. +"My father is sitting up in bed," he said. "He is preparing a radio +speech to the entire Republic." + +Dr. Gonzales was incredulous. "Are you sure, _chico_?" + +Simon touched his right eye with his index finger. "I have seen it at +this moment. My father is a great and a brave man. He says that we +should bring _Compañero_ Hall in at once." + +The door leading to Tabio's room was opened by an armed army sergeant. +"The President will see you now," he said. + +Hall followed Simon and Gonzales through the small corridor which took +them to the sick room. The shutters were opened, and the sun streamed +into the chamber, bathing everyone and everything in its gentle light. +Anibal Tabio was sitting up in bed, his hand raised in a familiar +gesture as he dictated to a secretary who sat on a stool near his +pillows. + +"Neutrality," he was dictating, "neutrality is either abject surrender +to Hitler or an open admission of complicity with the fascist Axis or a +sinful combination of both..." + +The swarthy Esteban Lavandero was, as always, at Tabio's side, his +fierce Moorish face twisted with pain and love. He stood behind the girl +secretary, one black hairy hand resting on the carved headboard of the +ancient bed, his ears cocked for every word which came from Tabio's pale +lips. + +Tabio's wife and two doctors in white coats stood on the other side of +the bed. The prim white collar of her dark dress matched the streaks of +white in her long black hair. Her luminous _mestiza's_ eyes, swollen +from quiet weeping, were now bright and clear, and when Anibal Tabio +looked to his wife after turning a particularly telling phrase in his +speech her generous lips parted and she smiled at him the way she had +smiled to reward his earliest writings three decades ago. + +"The great North American martyr to freedom, Don Abraham Lincoln, a man +of great dignity whose humor was the humor of the people from whose +loins he sprang, was a man who many years ago described such neutrality. +Lincoln was not a neutral in the struggle between slavery and freedom. +And when some fool insisted that most Americans were neutral in this +struggle, Lincoln replied with the anecdote of the American woman who +went for a walk in the woods and found her husband fighting with a wild +bear. Being a neutral, this woman stood by and shouted, 'Bravo, Husband. +Bravo, Bear.' + +"And then, Lincoln said ..." + +"Don Anibal," one of the doctors said, gently, "I must implore you ..." +The restraining hand of Tabio's wife made him stop. + +"It is no use, doctor," Tabio smiled. "At a time like this, if a +President can speak at all, he must speak to his people. Tonight you +will type my speech, and tomorrow you can bring the microphone right +into this room, and right from my bed I shall talk to the people. If I +am to die in any event, it will not matter much. And if I am to live, +doctor, the speech will not kill me." + +Simon, who was standing next to Hall in the doorway, whispered that +Tabio's eyes were too weak to distinguish them at that distance. They +started to walk toward the bed on their toes, and Hall, glancing at +Tabio sitting up in the old bed in a white hospital gown surrounded by +the burly Lavandero and his wife and son, was suddenly struck by the +similarity of the scene which was before him and the Doré engraving of +the death of Don Quixote. It was all there, even to the faithful Sancho +Panza figure of Lavandero, and at that moment Hall knew why Spanish +savants had for hundreds of years written scores of books on the true +significance of Cervantes' classic. Here were the two great impulses of +the Hispanic world, the fragile, gentle, trusting dreamer of great new +horizons and at his side the broad-backed practical man of earth who +threw his strength into the effort of implementing the dreams and making +them the new realities. Here was the visionary Juarez and the young +soldier Porfirio Diaz, when the warrior was still a man untainted by his +own betrayal of a people's dream. Here was the romantic poet José Marti +and one of his durable guerrilla generals, Maximo Gomez or Antonio +Maceo, whose white and black skins, blended, would have yielded a skin +the color of Lavandero's. (Was it any wonder, then, Hall thought in +those fleeting seconds before Tabio recognized him, that Tabio as a +young exile went to Cuba to write a biography of Marti while his +faithful fellow-exile spent the same months in Havana writing an equally +good study of Maceo?) + +At that moment Tabio saw Hall. "_Viejo!_" he said, happily. "Mateo Hall, +a good friend and thank God never a neutral. Señorita, give him your +stool. Come, sit down, Mateo." + +Hall took his hand, tenderly, for fear of hurting him. It was a thin +hand, bony and fleshless; cold, as though Death had already touched it. + +"_Viejo_," Tabio said. He might have been genially scolding a favorite +child. "Say something, old friend, and don't sit there staring at me as +if I were already a corpse. Tell me about yourself, Mateo. We've come a +long way since Geneva and Madrid and the day they fished you out of the +ocean, eh?" + +"It has been a long time," Hall said. "A very long time, Don Anibal. A +century." + +Tabio smiled. "Time is of no matter. It is the present and the future +which counts, eh, _viejo_?" + +"Of course, _ilustre_." + +"My family and my good friends are afraid that I am dying," Tabio said, +smiling as if at some secret joke he wanted to share with Hall. "I am an +old dog. An old prison dog. Tell them, _viejo_, tell them that our breed +doesn't die so easily, no?" + +Hall could only nod and pat the sick man's hand. + +"Do I sound like a dying man?" + +Hall swallowed hard, managed to grin. "You? What nonsense, Don Anibal! I +was at the Congress the other day. I watched you and listened to you +speak. It was a great speech, Anibal." + +"It was not a great speech. But it was good because I spoke the truth. +And do you know, Mateo, that the truth is better than any great speech?" +Tabio was breathing with increased difficulty. He slumped back against +the pillows, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the doctors +quicken, and he turned to them and winked. "Not yet," he smiled. Meekly, +he allowed one of the doctors to hold a tumbler of colored liquid under +his mouth. He sipped some of it through a bent glass tube, then turned +to Hall again. + +"Where were you sitting?" he asked. + +"In the diplomatic box with Duarte and the Mexican Ambassador. Don't try +to talk to me, Anibal. Save your strength. I'll be here for a long time, +and when you're out of bed and on your feet again, perhaps we can have a +real visit and sit up all night talking as we used to talk." + +"Mateo! You talk like a child. I will never be on my feet again. But +just the same," and he winked impishly at his wife, "I'm a long way from +dying." + +"Of course you are," Hall insisted. + +"There, you see?" Tabio said to everyone in the room. "Mateo can tell +you. He knows how tough our breed is. Tell me, Mateo, is it true that +the American Ambassador considers me to be the most violent Bolshevik +outside of Russia?" + +Lavandero laughed, and Hall laughed, and when Tabio, laughing, turned to +his wife and son, they laughed too. + +"He is such a pompous fool, that Ambassador. Oh, I am being terribly +undiplomatic, _viejo_, but to think of an old-fashioned bourgeois +reformer like me being compared to Lenin and Stalin! It is the height of +confusion. But if you ever meet him you can tell him that I admire +Stalin and the Russian people. Your Ambassador and I were together at a +State dinner the day the Nazis invaded Russia and he said that the +Soviets would be crushed in a month and that he was glad. I told him +then that the Red Army would destroy the Nazi war machine and I told him +that before the war was over the United States would be fighting on the +side of Russia and that therefore it was dangerous of him to say he was +glad so many Red Army soldiers were being killed. And you can tell him +that some day when I speak to Mr. Roosevelt again I will tell him what +the American Ambassador to our country said openly in June of 1941." + +"Please, Don Anibal," one of the doctors begged, "you must save your +strength." + +"For the speech," Lavandero added, quickly, motioning to Hall that it +was time for everyone but the doctors to leave the room. + +Hall stood up, again patted the blue-veined hand of the President. He +watched Tabio, pausing to gain strength, mutely protesting with glazed +eyes the obvious stage directions of the doctors who ended this visit. + +"I must go now, Don Anibal," Hall said, softly. "If you wish, I will be +back tomorrow or the next day." + +"Matthew," Tabio said, and he began to address Hall in English, "you +were in Spain. You saw. Tell them it does not matter if one man lives or +dies. I have no fears for truth. I have come a long way on truth. Tell +them, _viejo_, tell them what a miracle truth is in the hands of the +people. You have but"--the words were coming with great difficulty--"you +have but to make this truth known...." + +Tabio's jaw sagged open. He fell forward against his knees. The doctors +took him by the shoulders and moved him into a prone position. His eyes, +still open, stared at everything and nothing, glass now. + +"_Cariño mío!_" his wife sobbed, but at an unspoken order from one of +the doctors Simon led his mother to a chair in the corner and kept her +still. Lavandero, Gonzales and Hall left the chamber for the library. + +"What happened to Anibal?" Lavandero asked Gonzales. + +The doctor shook his head. "It is the end," he said. "Don Anibal will +never speak again." + +"You lie!" + +"No, Esteban." He turned to Hall. "His last words were to you, +_compañero_." + +"Christ Almighty!" + +"For God's sake, tell me what happened to Anibal!" + +"He fell into a coma. I think it is a stroke." Gonzales sat heavily in +one of the leather chairs, began to fumble in his pocket for another +adrenalin vial. His fingers began to become frantic in their impotence. +"I--I ..." + +Hall caught his head as he started to collapse. He reached into the +doctor's pocket, found the adrenalin and used it. + +"It is a stupid way to live," Gonzales said. "To have your life depend +always on your being a vegetable with a bottle. Thank you, _compañero_. +Just let me rest here for a few minutes." + +Throughout all of this, Lavandero stood over Tabio's table, staring down +at the jar of pencils with a dark, ugly face. He clenched opened +clenched opened clenched his fists, his fingers working to no definite +rhythm, and then he looked at his fists opening and closing and for a +few minutes it seemed as if he looked upon his own hands with loathing. +Then, straightening up, he put his hands in the pockets of his blue +jacket and turned to Hall and Gonzales. "This is no time to plan +personal violence," he said. "It would be exactly what the fascists +wanted." + +"I am at your orders," Hall said. "I think you know that." + +"I am counting on you." + +"What do I do now?" + +"Keep out of sight for a few hours. I think you should go to Gonzales' +house. I'll get you an official car and a chauffeur." + +"I'm not alone," Hall said. He told Lavandero about Jerry and the death +of Androtten. + +"_Madre de Dios_, take her with you! And keep her hidden." The sweat +pouring down his face betrayed Lavandero's excitement; his voice was +calm and steady. "I'll send an armed guard with you." + +"I'll get the nurse," Gonzales said. + +"No. Don't get up. Tell us where she is." + +Lavandero had taken over. Later, Hall knew, the man would allow himself +to fly into a wild rage, but he would do it alone, where no one could +hear or see him. And Hall knew, also, that soon Lavandero would be +engaged in a battle with Gamburdo and the fascists for control of the +nation. + + + + +_Chapter fourteen_ + + +The black Packard roared out of the subterranean garage of the +Presidencia, shot out to the Avenida de la Liberacion. Hall and Jerry, +in the back seat, looked behind them at the second Packard which carried +their convoy of guards. "They have enough tommy guns back there to blow +up anyone who makes a pass at us," he said. "And the two boys in the +front seat can throw plenty of lead." + +"It's like a gangster movie," Jerry said. + +"That shooting in your room this morning was no movie. I've never seen a +deader Nazi than the late Wilhelm Androtten, alias X." + +"What's going to happen to us now, Matt?" + +"Don't worry." + +"I am worried. I want to know." + +The two cars pulled up at the doctor's house. Maria Luisa, Gonzales' +fourteen-year-old daughter, met them at the door. "I am preparing some +sandwiches," she said. "Father said you were famished." + +They waited in the living room while the girl worked in the kitchen. +"You're too hot in San Hermano," Hall said. + +"Not yet. They don't know what happened to Androtten. I can just go on +being Ansaldo's nurse until ..." + +"Forget it," he snapped. "This isn't for amateurs any longer. And you're +still an amateur, baby." + +"Then what do you suggest I do?" + +"You're going back to the States with a bodyguard on the next plane out +of here. You're waiting for me in Miami. I'll give you a letter to one +of the chiefs of Military Intelligence there. You'll be safe." + +"How about you?" + +"I'll meet you in two weeks. Three weeks at the outside." + +"I won't do it, Matt. I'm staying here with you." + +"But I won't be here all the time." + +"Then I'll wait here for you." + +"Baby, listen." He took out a package of American cigarettes, put one in +her mouth, lit it. "Ladies don't smoke in San Hermano. You can smoke +until you hear anyone coming. Then hand it to me. Now, sit down like a +good girl, and for God's sake, listen carefully. There's a job I've got +to do. It's my job alone. I've got to do it alone. I had an idea that +before I was through here I'd have to do it. But Tabio's last words were +spoken in English and they were to me, and baby, as soon as he stopped +talking I knew what I had to do." + +Hall quoted the President's words about the power of Truth. "And he was +right," he said. "I remember what happened when I got out of the can in +Spain. I went back to Paris to get some rest. Tabio was in Geneva, +packing his things to go home. I found out he was still there and I went +to see him before he left. He was going home to run for President so +that this country shouldn't become a second Spain. + +"I remember telling him that the thing which kept me alive in Franco's +prison was my feeling that a miracle would happen--that the little guys +in England and France would force the appeasers to sell guns to the +Republic, or that Russia would be able to fly some heavy bombers across +France for Madrid, or that Roosevelt would open his eyes and lift the +damned embargo, or anything. Any good miracle like these, even a tiny +one, would have saved the day. And I went to sleep every day sure that +each morning I'd wake up closer to the day this miracle would happen, +and that some morning I'd wake up and find that the people somewhere +outside of Spain had performed this miracle. + +"I remember the way Tabio listened to me speak, and how when I was done +he said that the miracle I wanted all that time was that the truth +should get to the people. It was that simple. And he was dead right. +It's exactly what he did in his own country, and you know how the people +love him for it." + +Jerry looked puzzled. "But what do you propose to do?" + +"Look," he said. "It's a matter of days at most before the whole nation +will be mourning Tabio. The Constitution says that within thirty days +after the President dies, there must be a general election. I have an +idea that the race will be between Gamburdo and someone like Lavandero. +Both will claim that they are Tabio's real choice as a successor. If I +can get to Havana, I can dig up the truth about Gamburdo and Ansaldo in +a matter of days. I'm sure of it. If it's anywhere at all, it's in +Havana. Gamburdo is taking public credit for trying to save Tabio's life +by bringing Ansaldo to San Hermano. The truth can make this boomerang in +his face." + +"Can't I help in any way?" + +Hall stopped short. "Do you know what you're asking? That scrape in the +hotel this morning was nothing compared to the things you're asking for +if you stay. Even if Gamburdo is licked, it's only the beginning." + +"But you're sticking it out, aren't you?" + +"I have to. I've been in it since Madrid. There's no escaping it for me. +I'll never know any peace until the crime of Spain is liquidated. +Fascism isn't just an ideological enemy for me, baby. It's a cancer +burning in my own, my very personal guts. I'd go off my conk if mine +weren't two of the billion fists that are smashing and will go on +smashing back at fascism until it's deader than Willie Androtten. I've +never stopped to think of what my chances are of being alive at the +finish. All I know is that if I stopped fighting it I'd die." + +"Let me stay," Jerry pleaded. "I'd be a liar if I said that's the way I +felt, too. But the war came to me this morning at the end of Androtten's +gun, darling. I can't escape it any more than you can now." + + * * * * * + +They had an early dinner with Gonzales and his daughter, avoiding all +serious discussion until Lavandero arrived. The Minister of Education +brought grim news: Anibal Tabio had suffered a second stroke and was +dying. + +"Where is Ansaldo?" Hall asked. + +"He is still on the ranch of Gamburdo's brother. He is waiting for an +answer to his ultimatum. Don Anibal's condition is still a secret." + +"But Esteban," Gonzales said, "we cannot keep it a secret. You will be +accused of murdering Don Anibal if Gamburdo finds out." + +"I know. I've asked Segador to come. I wanted to bring Simon Tabio, but +he refuses to leave the room while his father still breathes. What do +you think, _Compañero_ Hall? What is the first thing we have to do? By +the way, does the señorita speak Spanish?" + +"No. I will tell her what she should know later." + +"Is she reliable?" + +"I hope to marry her--if I am alive in three weeks." + +Jerry looked at Hall's face and blushed. "I'll bet you just told him +about us," she said. + +"My felicitations," Lavandero said, in English. He gave her his hand. +"But with your permission, we must speak in Spanish." + +Hall told Lavandero and Gonzales his plan about Havana. "I was going to +do it in any event if Duarte didn't hear from his friends in Mexico." + +"But why Havana?" + +"Because Havana was the base headquarters in the Western Hemisphere for +all Falangist work. The boys in the Casa de la Cultura and on the staff +of _Ahora_ worked with the Batista government to break it up. They +arrested the key leaders, but even though they had to let them go back +to Spain, they took their confidential files away from them." + +"And you think that Ansaldo will turn up in these files?" + +"It is something we must not overlook." + +"There is someone at the door," Gonzales said. "Wait." He slipped the +safety of the automatic in his pocket, and went to the door with his +hand on the gun. + +"Be tranquil," Gonzales announced. "It is Diego." + +The Major Diego Segador who walked into the room was quite a different +creature from the mournful-visaged officer in the neat uniform Hall had +met at the barracks. He wore a gray civilian suit, whose jacket was at +least four sizes too small for his broad frame, yellow box-toe shoes and +an incongruous striped silk shirt. The discolored flat straw hat he +carried in his tremendous square hands completed the picture which +immediately came to Hall's mind: a vision of Diego Segador as a tough +steel-worker on a holiday in Youngstown, Ohio, during the twenties. + +"You look," said Gonzales, "like a Gallego grocer on his way to High +Mass." + +"That's enough," Lavandero said sharply, "Don Anibal is dying." + +The blood rose to Segador's head. "No!" he shouted. + +"Sit down, Diego." + +Gonzales opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of brandy. He shouted to +the kitchen for his daughter to bring glasses. + +"Major," Hall said, "this is Miss Olmstead." + +"Hello," Segador said, in English. "You have close shave, no?" + +All the men had brandy. Jerry merely looked at the bottle with great +longing. + +"Well then, Diego," Lavandero said, "minutes count now. Hall has a plan. +It is a good one." He described it for the Major. "If he comes back with +pictures of Ansaldo in the uniform of the Falange, we will have to flood +the country with them. They will not look nice next to the pictures of +Ansaldo embracing Gamburdo, no?" + +"They will look very nice--for us. But how is Hall going to get to +Havana?" + +"By plane. Why?" + +"Why? Because you are a marked man, Hall." + +"Get me to the border, then. I'll get to Havana from across the border." + +"Not on your passport," Segador said. "It is too risky. Tomas, you have +a passport, no? Never mind. All right, then, Hall. You go on a passport +made out to Vicente, but with your picture on it. I'll drive you north +by car. You board a plane in San Martin Province--there's one that meets +the Clipper for Miami. The mining men use it. You travel to Havana as +one of our nationals, one Emilio Vicente. Then the officials of your own +government in San Juan won't ..." He stopped suddenly, filled his glass +with brandy, and drank it in one short gulp. + +"Out with it, Major," Hall said. "What are you hiding?" + +"Hiding?" + +"About me and my government?" + +"Nothing. It's just that you are too well known as Matthew Hall. You are +known by face in San Juan. Perhaps, when you land there to refuel, +someone will recognize you. And then there will be trouble about your +Vicente passport. Perhaps--one cannot be too careful." + +Hall knew that the Major was concealing something from him, something +that had to do with himself. He thought of his low standing at the +American Embassy, and of some of the fascists in high places he had +offended in San Juan. "Yes," he said, "I think you are right." This, he +decided, was not the time to start new trouble. + +"No," Lavandero said, "it is no good. We shall need another passport for +_Compañero_ Hall." + +"How can we get it?" Segador asked. "There is no time." + +"There is time," Lavandero said, evenly. "Duarte is preparing a passport +and papers for Hall. Diplomatic. He will travel as Victor Ortiz Tinoco, +official courier of the Mexican Government." + +"When did he start on the papers?" Hall asked. + +"A few hours ago. He thought you might want to make the trip." + +"Why didn't you tell me before this?" + +Lavandero's face softened. "My dear friend," he said, "what you are +undertaking is no minor task. The complications are enormous. If you are +caught, you face much legal trouble at the very least; death by +violence, if the fascists catch you first. You are under no obligations +to this Republic. I had to hear it from your lips first." + +"When can I start?" + +"In two hours. You will have to give me your passport, so that I may +have the picture copied for the Ortiz Tinoco papers. Segador's idea is +the right one. He will drive you to the San Martin airport tonight. The +Mexican Embassy is ordering the tickets. I will leave you with Gonzales +and Segador to work out the rest of the details." + +"Good. Here is my passport." + +"The Republic will always be grateful to you, _Compañero_ Hall." +Lavandero stood up and started for the door. Hall accompanied him. + +"Well," Hall said, "I'll try to get back within the week--if I'm lucky." +He held out his hand to the Minister. + +"Thank you, _compañero_." Lavandero raised his arms to Hall's shoulders +and embraced him. "You were worthy of his trust." + +"And you of his love," Hall answered. He was sorry for Lavandero, sorry +for him as a friend, as a man, as a leader so intent on answering his +responsibilities to his moment in history that he had to allow his own +personal rages to simmer unattended within him until there again came a +time when a man could walk off alone and be his own master. + +"I will see you in a week, _compañero_." + +Hall walked back to the living room. Segador was trying to convey to +Jerry his impressions of Atlantic City in 1919. "Womans _bonitas_," he +was shouting, "whisky bad. Much bad. I have young years, much money. +Well, well. So." + +"We'll listen to your memoirs when I get back," Hall said. + +"When we get back," Segador said. + +"You're coming with me?" + +"I'm meeting you on your way back. We'll meet in Caracas. Listen to me, +_compañero_. The chief of our Air Force is loyal. He will give me one of +our American bombers. From the San Martin airport, a bomber can make +Caracas in fifteen hours. Give me ten hours' notice, and I will meet you +in time. I already have a loyal flying crew standing by for my orders." + +"Where can we meet in Caracas?" + +"At the airport. I can meet your plane." + +"Won't you be followed?" + +"Of course. By three or four of my picked men. Don't worry about that." + +Gonzales interrupted to say that there would be time for them to have +dinner at the house before starting on the drive north. + +"Oh, while we're at it," Hall said, "I am going to ask you to be good +enough to keep my _novia_ here until I return. That is, if Segador +thinks it is safe." + +"It is safe," the Major grunted. "We will make it safe." + +"Then it is the privilege of my daughter and myself to make this house +the señorita's for a century." Gonzales called his daughter in from the +kitchen. "It will be very good for her, _amigos_. Maria Luisa is +studying English in high school. It will help her greatly." + +"Let her teach Jerry Spanish in a week," Hall said. + +The girl seemed pleased when her father told her about Jerry. "Oh, +nice," she said, trying out her English immediately. "You are very +welcome, Aunt. The pleasure it is all of mine." + +"You are very kind," Jerry said. + +"Please. May I show you the room? There are five rooms upstairs in my +father's house. Your room faces the ..." She paused, flustered, turned +to Hall. "_Cómo se dice, por favor, frente con vista al mar?_" + +"Tell her that her room _faces the ocean front_, Maria Luisa. And teach +her two words of Spanish for every word you learn from her." + +"Let's go," Jerry said to the girl. "Vamoose _arriba, sí_?" + +"Under no circumstances," Segador said when the girls were gone, "must +you attempt to come back by regular routes. If anything happens to me, +wait at the border. Get to Santiago by plane, and wait in the big hotel +for word from us." + +"How bad is it for me?" + +"Who knows? The fascists are mother-raping bastards, but they are no +donkeys. Today they must be looking for you in San Hermano. In a few +hours, they will begin to worry. Tomorrow they will become upset because +you are gone, and by tomorrow night they will turn the whole Cross and +Sword gang loose to look for you. But by tomorrow night, if all goes +well, and if that madman of a Duarte doesn't try to drive the car +himself but brings his driver along, you will be in Havana. + +"Of course," Segador said, "we will do everything we can to end the +hunt. But we can only do the usual things. Perhaps we will identify the +body of some poor Hermanito who gets killed by a car as Matthew Hall. +Give me some papers, by the way; we'll need them if we can get the right +body." + +"Lavandero has my American passport. And here's my wallet. That's good +enough." Hall took the three photos out of the wallet. "The pictures are +for her--if I don't come back." + +"And the money?" + +Hall flipped his fingers through the eight hundred-odd dollars worth of +travelers' checks. "I'd better sign these, just in case," he said. "I +want you to split it between Pepe Delgado and Emilio Vicente." + +"I understand," Segador said. "Duarte is bringing some money for you to +travel on." + +"I'll repay him when I return. Is there anything else I should know? I +have to write a letter. Have you any paper, doctor?" + +"In a moment." + +"Just a few things," Segador said. "A simple code for sending messages +to us." He explained the code system in a few minutes. "And one other +thing. I have the pictures we took of that Nazi Vicente shot; pictures +of his face and his fingerprints. We will seal them in the pouch you are +carrying. Perhaps you can identify it in Havana somehow." + +"I will try. Ah, thanks for the paper. This will take me only a few +minutes." Hall propped the writing pad on his lap and wrote a short note +to his attorney in New York. + +"Well, this is it," he wrote, "and I'll be more surprised than you are +if you ever receive this letter. I'm about to leave this country on what +might turn out to be a one-way trip to the grave. If I don't come back, +this letter is to be sent to you. It's about my will. I still want the +dough to go to the Spanish refugees and the veterans of the +International Brigades, but I want to lop off about a quarter of the +total in the bank and due me from Bird and leave it for Miss Geraldine +Olmstead. She is an American citizen and, if you hadn't received this +note, would by now be Mrs. H. When you meet her, introduce her to my +friends and take her around to the Committee; she wants to help the +Spanish Republicans. If I really thought this was my last trip, I guess +I'd close this letter with some appropriate and high-sounding last +lines--you know, the kind of crap a guy would write as the lead for his +own obit. But we'll skip the farewell address. This letter is being +witnessed by two good friends, one a doctor and the other a major in +this country. I guess that makes it legal." + +Hall signed the letter, told Gonzales and Segador what he wanted done +with it, and handed them the pen. "How much time do we have?" he asked. + +"You will have to leave in less than two hours," Segador said. "Duarte +will be here long before then." + +"Good." Hall looked at his watch. "I would like to see the girl alone in +her room for a while. There is much that I must tell her before I go." + +"I understand," Segador said. + +"Are you making the trip to San Martin with me?" + +"No. I will only ride the first twenty miles with you. I have a car +waiting for me at Marao." + +Hall waited for Gonzales to call his daughter, and then he went up to +Jerry's room. + + + + +_Chapter fifteen_ + + +Hall had time to buy a paper at the Havana airport before the Panair bus +started out for the city. In the half-light of evening, he could read +only the headlines, and the front page carried nothing about Tabio's +condition. It meant only one thing, that Don Anibal was still alive. His +death would have rated a banner headline in every paper published south +of the United States borders. + +He folded the paper under his sealed attaché case, sat wearily back in +his seat as the half-empty bus rolled through the flat table lands +between the airport and Havana. It was a run of fifteen miles from +Rancho Boyeros to the Prado, a stretch long enough to give Hall another +opportunity to review in his mind the nature of the tasks that lay ahead +of him. + +Physically, there were few details which could trap him. Duarte had been +very thorough, even to the point of bringing Mexican labels for Jerry to +sew into every item of apparel on Hall's body and in his Mexican leather +grip. The credentials in his worn Mexican wallet had carried him through +the control stations of four governments, including the station in San +Juan (although the night in Puerto Rico had been a jittery twelve hours +of sulking in his room like a caged animal). He wore a hat and a pair of +soft ankle boots which belonged to Duarte, and a pair of broad-framed +tortoise-shell reading glasses he had borrowed from Dr. Gonzales. The +attaché case, protected by the Mexican seal, contained the pictures of +Androtten, a letter from Duarte to a man named Figueroa in the Mexican +Embassy, and the automatic Segador had given him the day after he was +drugged. + +It was too late to report to the Mexican Embassy and deliver the letter +to Figueroa. But the Casa de la Cultura would be open (there were +lectures and meetings of some sort going on every night at the Spanish +Republican society), the boys on the staff of _Ahora_ would be at their +desks at the paper, and Colonel Lobo could always be reached within a +few hours. The idea was to contact all three tonight; if the documentary +bomb which would blow up Ansaldo was anywhere in Havana, it would be +either at the Casa, the paper, or in the files of the Secret Police. + +His heart quickened as the bus reached the narrow streets of Havana, +honked its way to the Maceo, and then turned lazily down the Prado. He +loved this city as he loved only two others, New York and Madrid. In the +course of nearly four decades, Hall had spent a mere four months in +Havana, but these were months in which he rarely got more than four +hours' sleep a night. He had worked hard in this city, but for a +hundred-odd nights he had also known the fantastic pleasures of merely +walking the streets of the Cuban capital, talking to friends, stopping +off to rest and have a tropical beer or a tall glass of mamey pulp, +getting drunk only on the green softness of the Havana moon and the cool +pleasures of the Gulf breeze. Here he had found old friends from Spain, +and made new and life-long friendships with a host of Cubans. He knew, +when he last left Havana, that the city had become one of his spiritual +homes, that always he would think of it as a place to which he could +return when he wanted the peace which comes to a man from being where he +belongs. + +As they approached the Panair office, Hall became apprehensive. He was +afraid that he might be recognized by one of the clerks. He dug into his +wallet for an American two-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. +"Take me directly to the Jefferson Hotel, _chico_," he said. "It is only +two streets out of your way." + +"I won't get shot if I do, _amigo_." + +He chose the Jefferson because it was a small, ancient and very +unfashionable hotel, without a bar, and completely overlooked by the +American colony. It was also very inexpensive, just the kind of a place +a new courier, anxious to make a good record, would choose. It was on +the Prado, it was clean, and the bills were modest enough to reflect to +the credit of the government traveler who submitted them. Not the least +of its charms for Hall was that the Jefferson was the one place where he +stood not the slightest chance of being known by either the guests or +the employees. + +He signed the register with a modest flourish, insisted upon and +obtained a reduced rate due to his standing as a courier, and then, +spotting the large safe in the office behind the counter, he asked for +the manager. "I am," he said, flourishing his identity papers, "a +courier of the Mexican Government. Since I have arrived too late to +present myself to my Embassy tonight, could I ask for the privilege of +depositing my case in your safe for the night?" + +The manager said he would be honored to oblige. He had, he said, +traveled widely in Mexico, and admired the Mexican people, the Mexican +Government, and most of all Señor Ortiz Tinoco's Department of Foreign +Relations, and did the visitor expect to make frequent stops in Havana? +The visitor assured the manager that he did. + +The case was handed to the night clerk, who opened the safe, deposited +it, and closed the heavy iron door. "It will be as safe," the manager +said, "as the gold in the teeth of a Gallego." + +"That," said Hall, "is security enough for me." + +He got into the rickety elevator and went to his room. It was a large +room overlooking the Prado. He opened the shutters, looked out at the +star-drenched skies. He was home again. Outside, juke boxes in three +different open cafés on one street were playing three records with +maximum volume. A baby in the next room was lying alone and cooing at +the ceiling. Near by, a light roused a rooster on some rooftop to let +out a loud call. + +Hall heard the sounds of the city as they blended into the tone pattern +peculiarly Havana's own. He took a quick shower, changed into some fresh +clothes, and went downstairs to the Prado. He stopped first at a cigar +stand a few doors from the hotel, bought a handful of choice cigars, and +lit a long and very dark Partagas, being careful to remember that only +gringos removed the cigar band before lighting up. + +He walked casually down the Prado, toward the Malecon, pausing in the +course of the four blocks between the Casa de la Cultura and the +Jefferson to study the stills in the lobby of a movie house showing an +American film, to sip a leisurely pot of coffee, and to buy a box of wax +matches and a lottery ticket from a street vendor. From the street, he +could see that the windows of the Casa were well lighted. He walked +another block, crossed the street, and then, very casually, he studied +the signs on the street entrance to the organization's headquarters. +_Tonight: Lecture on History of Music by Professor A. Vasquez. Dance and +ball for young people._ And why shouldn't a bachelor courier on the +loose in Havana attend a dance for the young _refugiados_? He went +through the motions of a visiting blade debating with himself the +propriety of attending such a ball. + +Squaring his shoulders, the Mexican courier put the cigar in his mouth +and started to climb the stairs to the headquarters of the Casa. He +climbed slowly, afraid of receiving too enthusiastic a greeting when he +reached the first-floor landing. + +There was a light in the small meeting room at the end of the corridor. +Hall stood near the door for a few minutes, listening for a familiar +voice through the opened transom. Then, carefully, he knocked, and +turned the handle of the door. It was open. + +He stepped into a meeting of a small committee. Eight men were sitting +around a long table. They were talking about the problems of getting +help to the Spaniards in the French concentration camps in North Africa. +All discussion stopped the moment the confreres saw Hall. + +"I am looking," he said, "for Santiago Iglesias." + +A tawny-haired Spaniard at the table looked up. "_Viejo!_" he shouted, +springing from his chair and rushing over to confront Hall. + +The right hand which rose to take the cigar from Hall's mouth also +lingered long enough to hold an admonishing finger to his lips. "Hello, +Rafael," he said. "I didn't know you were in Cuba." + +Rafael was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Neither did Franco," he +laughed. "Last week I found out for the first time that the fascists had +jailed you and that you got out after the war. I thought you were dead, +M..." + +The look in Hall's eyes stopped him from pronouncing the rest of the +American's name. + +"Let's go outside," Hall said, softly. "I do not have much time." + +They stepped into the corridor. "Where can we talk?" Hall asked. "Is +anyone using Santiago's office?" + +"No. We can sit there." + +They found the office unoccupied. "Don't turn the light on," Hall said. +"The window faces the street." + +Rafael locked the door, pulled two seats close to the big desk in the +corner. "We can sit here and talk quietly," he said. + +"It's wonderful to see you, Rafael. I'd heard you were captured in a +hospital during the Ebro retreat." + +"_Mierda!_ That's what the fascists boasted. No. I came out of the +retreat in good order. I started with thirty men, but, instead of taking +to the roads like the Lincolns, I started to cross the mountains. I went +up with thirty men, and I came down on the other side with a battalion. +Most of them got through alive after that." + +"Good boy! Where have you been since then?" + +"In hell!" Rafael spat, angrily. "Rotting in a French concentration +camp, mostly. I organized an escape. We killed six guards, and more than +twenty prisoners got away. I got to Casablanca through the underground, +and they put me on a Chilean ship. Two weeks ago we reached Havana. I'm +to eat and rest for a month. Then I go back to Spain for more fighting. +With the guerrillas. When did you get here?" + +"An hour ago. Listen, I want to talk to you. But it is important that we +find Santiago. Is he in town?" + +"Yes. He is supposed to be at our meeting. He'll be here." + +"Can you go back and leave word for him to join you in here the minute +he comes? It's very important." + +Rafael jumped from his chair, struck an absurd caricature of military +posture, and made a limp French salute, his hand resting languidly +against his ear. "_Mais oui, mon général_," he said. "_Mais oui, oui, +oui._" He marched stiffly out of the room, posing at the door to make an +obscene gesture meant for the men of Vichy. + +He glided noiselessly back to the dark office in a few minutes, waved +Hall's proffered cigar away. "I can't smoke any more. We had nothing to +smoke the last year in Spain, and Monsieur Daladier and Company never +sent us any tobacco. Now I just can't stand it. I walk around Havana and +everyone offers me cigars, but I've lost my taste for it." + +"It will come back, Rafael." + +"Why are you in Havana, Mateo?" + +"It is a long story, _chico_. I'd rather tell you in front of Santiago. +It's about Anibal Tabio. I left San Hermano two nights ago. Things are +serious, there. Falange." + +"Is Tabio really so ill?" + +"He is dying, _chico_. He may be dead by now. I think he was killed by +the Falange. I came here for the proof. Santiago knows. We've exchanged +letters." + +"_Hola!_" Santiago Iglesias was at the door. "Then you got my letters?" +He was ten years older than Rafael, tall and powerfully built. He +crossed the room in long, athlete's strides, his head thrown back as if +to announce to the world that the white hairs which outnumbered the +black of his head were merely an accident of the war. + +"I knew you would understand," Hall said. + +"What happens?" + +"Don Anibal is dying. I think Ansaldo did it." + +"He is a fascist, Mateo. You were absolutely right." + +"How do you know? I need the proof immediately." + +"There is a man in town who was trapped behind Franco's lines for two +years. He knew Ansaldo well." + +"That is good--for you and me. But it is not enough. There is too much +at stake." + +"I guessed as much, Mateo. General Mogrado sent a message from Mexico +City a few days ago. He wanted the information also. I took this man in +Havana and we went to a lawyer and he made a long affidavit about +Ansaldo. Mogrado has the affidavit by this time." + +"Who is this man? Is he well known?" + +"No, Mateo. He was a minor official of the Ministry of Commerce. I have +a copy of his affidavit, and you can meet him tomorrow if you wish. He +is staying with relatives in Marianao." + +"Let us try to see him tomorrow. But I need much more than his +affidavit. I need more than anything else a picture of Ansaldo in +Falange uniform, a picture that shows him with officers of Germany and +Italy. I was in Burgos when the picture was taken--and I have a feeling +that the picture is right here in Havana." + +"Here? In Havana?" + +"Listen, _compañeros_. I saw the _Arriba_ man take that picture. I was +standing a hundred feet away. It was in the spring or summer of 1938," +Hall said. "I know you have the complete file of _Arriba_ here." + +"No, Mateo. We do not." + +The blood left Hall's head. "You don't?" he said. "But when I was here +we ..." + +"It is the complete file of _Arriba_ of Madrid since April of 1939, +Mateo. Since Franco entered Madrid, _amigo_." + +"And before that?" + +"There are some, but not a complete file. They have many fascist papers +at _Ahora_, and at the University there is Dr. Nazario with his personal +collection of fascist publications. It is very large, and it goes back +to 1935 in some cases, but it has many empty places." + +"And the Secret Police? What has Colonel Lobo got?" + +"Dossiers and documents. But papers--who knows?" + +"I'll be back in Madrid in a month," Rafael said. "I can go back sooner +if it will help the cause, Mateo. There is surely a complete file +there." + +"No, thank you, Rafael, but I need the picture in a few hours." He told +them why the pictures were needed, and how they would be used if he +could find them. + +"Don't worry," Santiago said. "There are three collections to examine, +and in the meanwhile we might get some further clues from de Sola. He is +a very intelligent fellow. I'll put him to work on Dr. Nazario's +collection in the morning. Rafael, tonight you go to _Ahora_. Go through +their Spanish collection, and then examine their files of _Arriba_ of +Havana. The local _Arriba_ used more pictures than an American magazine, +and most of them came from Franco Spain. You'd better go right now." + +"I'll be there in ten minutes. Shall I tell them what it's about, +Mateo?" + +"No, I'll tell them myself. I'm here on false papers. Just warn them +that if they see me on the street I'm not to be recognized. But I'll see +them before I leave." + +"I'm going to call Lobo," Hall said. "At the very least his dossiers are +more official than de Sola's affidavit." + +Santiago shoved the phone toward Hall. "I was going to suggest it +myself. Do you remember the number?" + +"Of course." + +There was no answer at Lobo's house. Hall called the headquarters of the +National Police. "I want to reach Colonel Lobo," he said to the man who +answered his call. + +"We no longer have a Colonel Lobo." + +"What?" + +"We have a General Lobo, señor." + +"Where is he?" + +"Who is this speaking?" + +"Who am I?" Hall hesitated. "If he's there, just tell him it's Johnny +Verde Luna. He'll know who it is." Lobo called all Americans Johnny; +Verde Luna was a horse he and Hall had played for three straight weeks +at the Hipodromo until it romped home in front at the longest odds in +ten years. + +"I will, Mr. Johnny Green Moon," the other man said, in English. "When I +see him tomorrow." + +"I don't understand you, señor. I ..." + +"He is not here, señor." + +"I know. Don't tell me where he is. But do you know?" + +"That depends." + +"Listen to me, my friend," Hall said, his voice rising angrily, "I have +no time to play games. If you know where he is, find him and give him my +message. I'll call you every fifteen minutes until you get word from +him." + +"Yes, señor. I will do what I can. Where can I call you?" + +"Never mind. I will call you." Hall hung up. "A clown!" he muttered. + +"I forgot to tell you that Lobo is now a general." + +"When did it happen?" + +"Last week. It came as a reward for breaking up the Pinar del Rio +Nazi-Falange ring. You know, the one that was in radio contact with the +German submarines." + +"I remember it well." Hall had worked with Lobo in rooting the spy ring +out. "I wonder where the hell he is?" + +"Who knows? But listen, Mateo, I know a man who knows all of Lobo's +hangouts. Suppose I send him out to look?" + +"Excellent. Just tell him to give Lobo this message--that he is the only +man who can save the life of Don Anibal Tabio. Eh?" + +"We'll try it. Wait here for me. I'll be right back." + +Hall started to tell Santiago the whole story of his experiences in San +Hermano when the Spaniard returned to the office. As soon as he +mentioned the fact that Ansaldo's assistant Marina was a morphine +addict, Santiago interrupted him. + +"_Hijo de la gran puta!_ I think I know him. Wait, I'll describe him. I +know him, all right, Mateo. Wait, I'll close the shutters. Then we can +turn on the light. I think I have his picture in this room." + +"Who is he, Santiago?" + +"Just a second. That's better." He turned on the small desk light. +"Let's go to the files." + +The Spaniard took a set of keys from his pocket, opened a heavy door +behind the desk and snapped on the light in a small store room. He +stepped in front of a row of steel filing cabinets, opened one with +another key. "He used another name in Spain--and in Paris. I know it's +the same man. Called himself Marcelino Gassau in 1937. Wait. Here it +is." + +"It's the _maricón_!" Hall cried when he saw the picture Santiago drew +from the file. + +"I knew it." + +Hall glanced at his watch. "Just a second. I'm going to call Lobo back. +It's time. Let's bring the whole file on the bastard out to the desk." + +The man at police headquarters had no news of Lobo. "I'll call you +back," Hall said. "Keep trying him." + +"So Gassau is your Marina," Santiago laughed. "We knew him well, the +_cabrón_. He was working in Portugal and Berlin as a liaison between +Sanjurjo and von Faupel in 1935 and 1936. Then, when the war started, he +went to Paris, the coward, spying on the German anti-fascists who were +on their way to fight with the Thaelmanns in Spain. He posed as a +contact man for the U.G.T., and then he'd lead the Germans straight to +the French police and notify the German Embassy. Then the Nazis would +start to complain that they were criminals who escaped from German +prisons and claim them back. Not one of the poor devils ever got to +Spain, but some of them were ultimately turned over to the German +Government and killed. It's all in this file." + +"What else can I find here?" + +"Not too much. He made a trip to Barcelona in 1937. The authorities +arrested him, but his friends got the British consulate to make a +special plea for his release, and the damned fools gave in and let him +go. After that he went to Argentina, but he returned to Madrid in May of +1939." + +The papers contained a detailed record of the fascist agent's crimes +against the Republic, and ended with a clipping from _Informaciones_ of +Madrid which revealed that Gassau-Marina was one of ten men to be +decorated by the Falangist Government for distinguished service during +the three years of the war. A footnote to this list said that +Gassau-Marina was one of the three men decorated that day who had +previously been awarded the Order of the German Eagle, Second Class, by +German Ambassador to Spain, General Wilhelm von Faupel. + +"This will help," Hall said. "It's a good start." + +"There's my phone. Just a minute." It was Rafael. He was calling from +the offices of _Ahora_, and he suggested that Santiago join him there. + +"Let's go," Hall said. "Do we use separate cabs?" + +"Don't be a child, Mateo. You're in Havana." + +"I'd better check with police headquarters on Lobo before we leave." + +They found Rafael in a tile-lined office on the second floor of the +newspaper building. He was sitting at a large table, three large piles +of fascist publications before him, and an opened copy of the Havana +_Arriba_ in his hands. "No luck yet," he said. "But Eduardo Sanchez had +an idea where the picture can be found." + +"Where is he?" + +"He's in there," Rafael pointed to a door. "He's digging out some more +magazines." + +Sanchez walked in with an armload of bright-colored Havana _Arribas_. +"It's good to see you again, Mateo," he said. "What passes?" + +"Trouble. How are you making out?" + +"Who knows? Are you going to stay long?" + +"I'm leaving tomorrow if I can get what I need." + +"You say the picture would be in _Arriba_ for 1938?" + +"If at all, Eduardo." + +"That's serious. There is only one place in town where I know definitely +there is a complete file of _Arriba_. It might be a little hard to get +into." + +"Where is it?" + +"The third floor of the Spanish Embassy." + +"That's bad," Hall said. + +"Bad, yes," Santiago said. He put his arms over the shoulders of Rafael +and Eduardo. "But not hopeless, eh, _compañeros_?" + +Eduardo smiled, grimly. Rafael grinned, a sudden glint in his blue eyes. + +"What do you think, Rafael?" + +"I think we should shoot our way in, _mi coronel_." + +"And you, Eduardo?" + +"I don't know. If we shoot our way in, we have to shoot our way out +again too. Maybe we'll kill a few fascists, but will we be able to get +at their files?" + +"It would do us good," Rafael said, "to kill ourselves a few fascists. I +think we are getting out of practice." + +"Sit down," Santiago said. "This takes some planning. Mateo, you had +better tell Eduardo what is at stake." + +"In a minute. I want some water. And I'd better phone Lobo's +headquarters again." + +"Use this phone," Eduardo said. "I'll bring you water." He took three +sheets of gray copy paper from his desk and fashioned a water cup. "We +can't get paper cups since Pearl Harbor." + +"Listen to me," Santiago said. "There is a way we can kill two birds +with one stone. Eduardo, if Hall gets the picture, it kills Gamburdo and +the Falange in San Hermano. That's one bird." + +"And the other?" + +"The other, _compañeros_, is Fernando Rivas." + +"Rivas?" Eduardo's dark, good-looking face grew puzzled. "Is he in this +too?" + +"Wait. I should bring _Compañero_ Hall up to date. You don't know Rivas, +Mateo. He is a queer bird. He comes from a good Republican family in +Madrid. A very good family. Republican since before the First Republic. +This Rivas, this Fernando, he was good. Under Alfonso, he got a job in +the Foreign Office. They sent him to Havana as an attaché in the +legation. Even then he was a good Republican. But something happened to +the man when the war started. He didn't fight for the fascists, but ..." + +"Tell him about his wife," Rafael said. + +"That's what I think did it. He had a British wife, and she had +high-life aspirations." + +"I think I understand," Hall said. + +"I don't have to go into the details. There is no time for that, anyway. +The point is that he had to go to Spain last year, and he came back +filled with loathing for everything he saw. This I know for a fact. +First, he started to sit home alone every night and get drunk, and then +he began to write a memoir about what he saw. He didn't think anyone +would ever see it. He still doesn't know that anyone but himself has +ever seen it. I got it from his servant one morning a few weeks ago. She +is one of ours. We photographed it and she put it back before he got +home that night." + +Eduardo passed a box of inexpensive cigars around. "The week before +that," he said, "I ran into Rivas at a café in Matanzas. He was sobering +up after a drinking bout. I tried to avoid him but he followed me out of +the place. He was crying. He called himself a son of a whore mother and +a traitor to his honor and his people and carried on like a fool. Then +he started to tell me about his wife's lover--we've known all about that +for months, but Rivas had just found out--and I became filled with +disgust for the creature. I shook him off and left him standing in the +street crying like a whipped dog. I hate weaklings." + +"I get it," Hall said. "But when you saw his diary, you started to +change your mind, eh?" + +"I still don't trust him. I introduced him to Santiago because Santiago +wanted to meet him." + +"I wouldn't trust him with Franco's daughter," Rafael said. + +Santiago Iglesias sighed heavily. "No one asks you to sleep with him, +Rafael," he said. "It isn't that. But you remember what happened in the +early days of the war. We had to take any officer who swore loyalty to +the Republic. We had no choice in the matter, did we, _chico_?" + +"But we also put in commissars to keep an eye on them." + +"It's true, _chico_. But some of them proved to be really loyal, eh?" + +"A handful." + +"All right, even a handful. But the point is that they were useful. Here +is the situation as of tonight: if the pictures which will kill the +Falange in San Hermano are anywhere within our reach at all, they are in +the Spanish Embassy. We have no contact we can trust inside the Embassy. +The nearest thing to such a contact is Rivas. He is a weakling and he +was a traitor. We know that. What we don't know is whether his +repentance is sincere. The only way to really find out is to test the +man. This is the time to test him. I've spoken with him three times in +the past week. He begs for a chance to prove that he has the right to +serve the Republic again." + +"He can serve the Republic best," Rafael insisted, "by blowing his +brains out." + +"Rafael!" + +"I'm sorry, Colonel Iglesias. I hate traitors." + +"I don't love them, _chico_. But it is not for us to put our personal +likes and dislikes before our greater duties, Major. And please +remember," he added, smiling, "you still are a major in the People's +Army. Neither your commission nor your Army has expired yet." + +"What do you want me to do?" Rafael asked, softly. "I will respect your +commands as my superior--and my friend." + +Santiago toyed with a thick copy pencil. "I am going to put it to a vote +right here. Who is for getting Fernando Rivas to let us into the Spanish +Embassy and removing what we need from the files? Understand, we won't +tell him what we want in the files--that would be trusting him too much +before he proves himself. Who is for raiding the Embassy with the help +of Rivas? On this, Mateo, you will have to vote also." + +Hall and Eduardo Sanchez raised their hands. + +"Against?" + +The three men looked at Rafael. He folded his hands in his lap, +ostentatiously studied the ceiling. + +"Are you against the idea, Rafael?" + +"I think it is crazy, Santiago. I am not afraid. I just think it is +crazy. Can't we get in without the traitor?" + +"I don't know how," Santiago said. "I guess we'll have to try it without +you, Rafael." + +"Over my dead body, my friend. I'm going with you. I've been wrong +before, but I've never avoided a battle. I'm not ducking this one, +Santiago." + +Eduardo winked at Hall. "Listen to the strategist," he laughed, but +there was pride and real affection in his words. "Rafael," he said, "if +you didn't shoot so straight I'd say that you talk too damned much." + +"Go to hell," Rafael said. "You're wasting good time. Let's finish +examining these fascist papers. Maybe we'll find the filthy picture +tonight in these piles, and then we won't have to risk three, no four," +he looked at Hall, "four good Republican lives on the guts of a traitor. +Come on, Eduardo, get to work." + +Hall motioned Santiago to the door. "Let's go around the corner," he +whispered, "and bring back a few bottles of Cristal." + +They walked slowly to the _cantinería_ on the corner, had some beer, and +bought a dozen bottles to take back with them. Santiago said that he +hoped it would not be necessary to raid the Embassy without previously +testing Rivas on less hazardous tasks. + +"Personally," he said, "I think Rivas is honest about wanting to come +back. I think he can be trusted if we have to do it with him. But it +might mean shooting, and you cannot afford to get shot. Perhaps you had +better not join us." + +"No. Don't try to cut me out, _viejo_, or I'll do it alone with Rafael." + +"All right. But I hope we find it before we have to raid the fascists." + +They went upstairs. "Call Fabri at your office," Eduardo told Santiago. +"He says he has some good news for you." + +"He must have found Lobo." Santiago was right. His man had reached the +General. "He says for you to meet him at headquarters in an hour. Fabri +found him at a party in Vedado. If I know Jaime Lobo, that means he will +actually be back in two hours. You've got plenty of time." + +Eduardo took a bottle opener from his desk. "You'll get me in trouble," +he said. "We're not allowed to drink in the office." + +"Tell Escalante it was my fault," Hall laughed. + +"You'd better sign a sworn statement." + +"Tomorrow. Listen, Eduardo, there is something you must do for me. +Santiago has a file on a man named Marcelino Gassau. I want the whole +thing copied on microfilm, four negatives of everything in the file. Can +you have it done in your dark room tomorrow morning?" + +"Consider it done, Mateo." + +Rafael drank his beer and cursed the magazines for not having the +pictures of Ansaldo that Hall wanted. "Let's get back to work," he said, +impatiently. "Let's find the damned pictures if they're here." + +Hall and Santiago sat down at the desk and started to go through +individual issues of various fascist publications for the year 1938. +While they worked, Hall asked Santiago if he knew the Figueroa whom he +had to see in the Mexican Embassy. + +"He is a friend," the Spaniard said. "He is completely reliable. He will +do anything you ask within reason--and nearly anything that is without +reason at all." + +None of the men found the photo Hall was seeking by the time he was +ready to leave for General Lobo's headquarters. "I'll get you a taxi," +Eduardo said. "You can take a look at the AP ticker in the wire room in +the meanwhile. There might be some news on Tabio's condition." + +The wires reported that Tabio still breathed. + + * * * * * + +It was nearly midnight when Hall crossed the threshold of the brooding +stone building that was Secret Police Headquarters. Like all police +headquarters the world over, this one also smelled faintly of carbolic +and damp stone, a stench Hall had grown to detest in San Sebastian. He +walked briskly down the dark corridor which led to Lobo's office. + +A young lieutenant was sitting at the desk in the anteroom. "Mr. Johnny +Green Moon?" he asked, grinning. + +"Hello," Hall laughed. "You still here?" + +"Just a second." The lieutenant pressed a button on his desk. There was +a click in the electric door stop of the massive oak and iron door +behind the desk. "Go right in, Mr. Green Moon." + +Hall pushed the door open, stepped into the Spartan simplicity of Lobo's +private office, and quickly shut out the smell of carbolic by slamming +the door behind him. Lobo, who had equally good reasons for hating that +odor, had installed an American air-cleaning system in his own office. + +The young general--he was about three years younger than Hall--was +sitting at his tremendous carved desk and studying some papers. +"Johnny!" he shouted. "_Qué tal?_" He was wearing a very formal white +dress uniform heavy with medals and gold braid. + +"Hello, Jaime," Hall said. "You look like an American Christmas tree." + +"Johnny, you dog! You took me away from a most beautiful reception." + +"Beautiful?" + +"A dream. Unbelievable! Four and twenty blonde Vassar girls dancing +around Lobo and wondering out loud if the handsome spik speaks English. +Sensational!" + +Hall had to laugh with the general. He could easily picture the effect +of Jaime Lobo's towering dark attractiveness--more than once in the +United States Hollywood talent scouts had begged him to sign +contracts--in the eyes of the American women one could find at a lavish +reception in Havana. "An American sugar king's party?" + +"No. The British business colony. It was stupendous." Lobo had lived in +the United States for five years, got a great kick out of scattering the +superlatives of Hollywood in his speech when he spoke English. + +"O.K.," Hall said, dryly. "It was super-colossal." He sat down in the +large armchair at the side of the desk, helped himself to one of Lobo's +cigars. + +"So you don't want to play," Lobo said, sobering and taking his own +seat. + +"Some other time, Jaime." + +"Sounds bad, keed. But tell me, Johnny, is it true that Don Anibal is +dying?" + +"He may be dead by now." + +"Ansaldo killed him?" + +Hall started. "What do you know about Ansaldo?" + +"I know he's a fascist pig. Why?" + +"Why? For the love of God, Jaime, if you can give me the proof, we +can ..." He told Lobo about the plans of Lavandero and the anti-fascists +in San Hermano. + +"I understand," Lobo said. "I've already sent for the dossier on +Ansaldo. It should be here in a few minutes. But while we're waiting, +there are a few things I'd like to show you." He opened the drawer in +his desk and took out an automatic wrapped in a brown-silk handkerchief. +"Take a look at this gun," he said, "but don't touch. I want to save the +fingerprints." + +"What about it?" Hall asked. + +"Oh, nothing. I thought you might know something about it. The hell with +it. But tell me, Mateo, when did you get to town?" + +"This evening." + +"Panair?" + +"Sure, why?" + +"Then you're staying at the Jefferson, registered as Victor Ortiz +Tinoco, eh?" + +"My God," Hall laughed. "That's my gun!" + +"That was your gun, _chico_. It is now Cuban Government Exhibit A in the +case against your brains. So you had it all figured out, my boy. You'd +come to Havana with fake papers, put up at an out-of-the-way hotel, +check your gun with the hotel management, shoot the Spanish Ambassador, +and then plant the gun in my back pocket and blow town on your +diplomatic Mexican passport. But you reckoned without two suspicious and +smart young second lieutenants from Oriente Province." + +"What was my fatal mistake, chief?" + +"Your accent and the cardinal stupidity of giving your attaché case to +the desk clerk. He's a communist from Oriente. The weight made him +suspicious, and he called his friends in my office. Only he guessed from +your accent that you were a Spaniard, and that the gun was for the +purpose of shooting up the Mexican Embassy." + +"You know what Jefferson said about eternal vigilance being the price of +liberty, Jaime." + +"Sure. Jefferson and the natural shrewdness of a peasant from Oriente +Province. Of course the minute I saw the report describing Ortiz Tinoco +as a Spaniard with scars on the face, a broken nose, and big feet which +took him directly to the Casa de la Cultura, I knew it was Matthew Hall +in a beard." + +"Yeah. Of course my phone calls every fifteen minutes didn't give you +any idea." + +"They helped, my boy. I'll admit that." He took the envelope bearing +Androtten's pictures and fingerprints from his desk. "Who is this +individual? He looks as if he is very seriously dead." + +"I brought that envelope here for you, Jaime. He was shot three days ago +in San Hermano, but I'm afraid I broke his nose before he died. That +other picture of him with his family and the letter from the Dutch +Government-in-Exile might be more interesting." + +"Wilhelm Androtten? Sounds like a brand of gin. Why did you kill him?" + +"He's a Nazi, Jaime. He was trying to kill me." + +General Lobo took some notes as he listened to Hall's account of +Androtten's role in the Ansaldo mission. "I guess the first thing to do +is to find out if the letter from Queen Wilhelmina is genuine. But it +still wouldn't prove anything. The Nazi, if he was an agent, could have +picked the name Androtten from a casualty list and then written to the +Dutch Government in the name of the soldier's father. I'll check the +photos and the fingerprints here, and also with American F.B.I. and the +British. The F.B.I. has been very good lately. They've helped out +terrifically here with technical things." + +A green light on Lobo's desk began to flicker. "It's the file room," he +said. "I guess they have the Ansaldo dossier." He called the lieutenant +on the inter-phone, told him to bring in the Ansaldo dossier. + +The dossier was not very long. It told the story how, in the winter of +1938, a prominent Cuban Falangist in the best of health had suddenly +taken to bed with a "serious complaint." His family announced to friends +that they had sent to Spain for a great doctor, one Varela Ansaldo. They +said Ansaldo cured the Cuban, to be sure, but he also had long private +sessions with the leaders of the Falange at the Spanish Embassy and, +before he returned to Franco Spain, the Falange in Cuba had undergone a +complete shake-up of its leadership. There were pictures of Ansaldo, but +alone and in plain clothes. + +"Are these the only pictures?" Hall asked. + +"Perhaps not. We took about three thousand feet of movie film from the +Inspector General of the Falange for Latin America when he tried to +escape to Spain on a C.T.E. ship two years ago. Let's look at them, old +man." He pressed a key in his inter-phone box. "Pablo," he barked, "set +up those Villanueva films in the machine. I'm coming in in ten minutes." + +"I didn't think of that film," Hall confessed. "Every time you were +supposed to show it to me, something came up, remember?" + +Lobo was barking into the inter-phone again. "Teniente, scare up two +cold bottles of champagne for the theater, will you? We have a thirst +that is killing us." + +"Are you screening the film in a theater?" + +"No. It's a crime laboratory the F.B.I. installed for us. The whole +works. Wait till you see it, Matt. It's just like Hollywood. Colossal!" + +"And the champagne?" + +"That's my own contribution. I'll be damned if I can stop drinking +champagne in the middle of a party just because Johnny Green Moon drags +me out. Come on, let me show you the joint." He led Hall on a ten-minute +Cook's tour of the crime laboratory, his patter a slightly off-color +imitation of an American tourist guide's spiel. A small beaded screen +had been pulled down from the ceiling, facing two chromium-and-leather +lounge chairs. When the lieutenant brought in the champagne in two ice +buckets, General Lobo signaled the soldier in the tiny projection booth +to start the film. + +There was everything but a shot of Ansaldo. + +"He was too smart, the _cabrón_," Lobo said. "Let's go back to my office +and think it over." He poured what remained of the champagne into Hall's +glass. + +On the way back to his office, he asked the lieutenant to join Hall and +himself. "Lieutenant," he said, "here are some pictures and data on a +man named Wilhelm Androtten, and some notes I made. Put them all through +the mill--our own files, F.B.I., the British. Check the papers and +letters of Villanueva and Alvarez Garcia for any reference to Varela +Ansaldo. And give me a report by noon tomorrow. Anything else you can +think of for the moment, Mateo?" + +"One thing. Those pictures of Gamburdo at the secret Falange dinner in +San Hermano. Remember it? I want about six microfilm negatives of each +shot." + +"Give them to me with your report, Lieutenant." + +The young officer accepted the papers, saluted smartly, and left. + +"There's one place in Havana where I can get that picture, Jaime," Hall +said. "The Spanish Embassy has a complete file of the Spanish _Arriba_, +and I'll stake my life on that picture of Ansaldo's being in that file." + +"So?" + +"Listen, Jaime, I don't know if I'll have to examine that file. I won't +know until some time tomorrow morning. There's an outside chance that +old man Nazario has the _Arriba_ we need in his collection at the +University. But please, Jaime, if I do have to go through the files on +Oficios Street, I don't want any of your excellent boys from Oriente +Province giving me a nice case of Cuban lead poisoning." + +Lobo, who had opened his collar and draped his long feet over his desk, +stopped smiling. He put his feet on the floor, buttoned the tunic +collar. "You don't understand," he said, speaking to Hall in Spanish for +the first time that evening. "In there, with the foolish movies, I make +foolish sayings. At the circus Lobo becomes the clown. But please +remember, Mateo, that I am a Latin American. My own people were driven +out of Spain by the spiritual forefathers of the Falange. I know what +will happen to Latin America if the Falange crowd wins out anywhere." + +"I know you do, Jaime." + +"I'm not always the playboy, Mateo. I know what my chief means to the +little nations of the Caribbean. I know what Don Anibal means to every +country south of Miami. I love Don Anibal. I love you because you love +my chief and my people and Don Anibal. _Claro?_" + +"Thanks, Jaime. Then you'll tell your men I'm O.K.?" + +"On the contrary, my friend. I must tell them much more than that." + +"Thanks. I'll try not to make any trouble. No international incidents." + +"If you don't have to shoot." Lobo became gay again. "Ay, Señor Ortiz +Tinoco," he sighed, "you might want to shoot, but you are without a +shooter to shoot with. My men are too good for you. They stole your +gun." + +"They are very good men, my general." + +"They have a good chief. But look, friend, in this drawer. I have a +treasure for you." He emptied the contents of a canvas bag on the desk. +"Ay, Señor Ortiz Tinoco, when I relieved Jefe Villanueva of his +super-production, I also took his gun. Such a wonderful little Swiss +automatic, built to be carried in a lady's purse or a horse's--ear. And +such a dainty Spanish leather shoulder holster. You would be a fool not +to accept this outfit in return for your gigantic cannon." + +Hall took off his jacket. "It's a deal," he said. "Help me get the +holster on." + +"Where are you going when you get the picture--if you get it, Mateo?" + +"Caracas. Someone is meeting me there." + +The General laughed. "Caracas? Ay, we'll get you back to Caracas in +style, _chico_." He opened his cigar box, held it out in front of Hall. +"By the way, Mateo," he said, "I never asked you before. Are you a Red?" + +"No. I'm a Red, White and Blue Kid. Why?" + +"Your government. Your embassy in San Hermano was sure that Pepe Stalin +was paying for your rice and beans. They asked your Embassy here to +check on you with me." + +"What did you tell them?" + +"Naturally, I told them that you were an agent. _Si_, señor! I told them +that you were a triple agent: mornings for the Kuomintang, afternoons +for the Grand Llama of Tibet, and evenings for the Protocols of Zion. +You'd better be careful when you get back to New York." + +"You bastard!" + +"Where are you going now? Me, I'm going right back to that party. I +promised a certain Vassar female, in my halting English, that I would be +back. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +"I'm going to the Casa de la Cultura." + +"Good. But listen, Mateo, give me at least five hours' notice if you +decide to do any scholarly research on Oficios Street, eh? _Vámonos._" + + + + +_Chapter sixteen_ + + +Don Anibal Tabio died at ten o'clock the next morning. He died on the +operating table, under Ansaldo's knife. + +Hall was in Santiago's office when Eduardo Sanchez called at eleven to +say that an AP flash had just come through in the newspaper's wire room. + +"Call me when the next bulletin comes through," he said, slowly. "We +have to know what Gamburdo and Lavandero are planning." Somehow, +although he had known for days that Tabio's hours were numbered, it was +hard to swallow his friend's dying on Ansaldo's terms. He was too +stunned to wonder how Gamburdo had finally won out. For a moment, there +was a sensation of sudden emptiness; this gave way to a sense of horror +and rage. + +"Poor Anibal," he said. "Charging the arrows of the Falange with only +the white plume of Truth in his thin hands." + +"He was your friend, wasn't he?" Santiago said. "He was a very great +man." + +"Yes." + +"Would you like a drink, Mateo?" + +"No, later. Call de Sola again. Tell him to hurry up. I'm going to the +Mexican Embassy. I have to leave an envelope with the secretary. I'll be +back in less than an hour." + +"_Bueno._" The Spaniard walked to the door with Hall. "There has been a +good change in you, Mateo," he said. "I remember the day when such a +blow would have sent you off like a wild bull. It is better to fight +them back the new way, no?" + +"You should know, Colonel Iglesias. You should know." Hall stopped off +at a bar on the way to his hotel for a quick double brandy to steady his +nerves. + +The manager of the Jefferson avoided Hall's eyes when he handed the +attaché case back to him. "The señor will notice that the seal is +unbroken?" he asked. + +"It is a new seal," Hall said. "But be tranquil. I was present at Secret +Police Headquarters when the seal was broken. And please tell your clerk +that I am not angry with him." He put the case under his arm and took a +cab to the Mexican Embassy. + +There was more bad news when Hall returned to the Casa. The files of +Franco publications kept by Doctor Nazario at the University had also +failed to produce the needed picture of Ansaldo. And a messenger from +Eduardo Sanchez had brought for Hall a copy of the first AP bulletin +from San Hermano. + +Hall read the bulletin aloud for Santiago and Rafael. "The wily +bastard!" he said, reading how Gamburdo had decreed six days of official +mourning and a national election on the seventh day following Tabio's +death. "'As our beloved Educator's chosen deputy and successor, I can +promise the people of the Republic a continuation of the peace which was +ours under Don Anibal's wise leadership. I can promise that any +warmongers who would destroy this great blessing left to the nation by +Don Anibal will immediately feel the wrath of the government. It was +Anibal Tabio's last wish that our Republic be spared from suffering the +ravages of a war that is neither of our making nor of our choosing.'" + +"I hate politicos," Rafael said. "They are a stench in the nostrils of +decent people." + +"Tabio was a politico, too," Santiago said, sharply. "What else does it +say, Mateo?" + +"It says that the Radicals and the Nationals have already nominated +Gamburdo. The Progressives and the Communists are meeting this afternoon +to select Lavandero as their candidate, and the Socialists are asking +both candidates for guarantees against Bolshevism before making up their +minds. The Traditional Nationalist Action Party--that's the Cross and +the Sword--are out a hundred per cent for Gamburdo." + +"What the hell are the Socialists stalling for?" Rafael shouted. "Where +are their brains?" + +"You mean," Santiago answered, gently, "where is their socialism?" + +"Listen to this," Hall said. "'The body of the President will lie in +state for six days in the Great Hall of Congress. Acting President +Gamburdo has ordered a hand-picked elite corps of army and navy officers +to maintain a twenty-four-hour watch over the bier.' An elite corps for +Don Anibal! + +"And listen to this: 'In the name of the Republic, Acting President +Gamburdo thanked the noted surgeon, Varela Ansaldo, for his last-hour +effort to save the life of the late President, and announced that he +would recommend to the Congress that Dr. Ansaldo and his assistant, Dr. +Marina, be given formal decorations. Gamburdo revealed that Ansaldo, who +came to San Hermano at his urgent pleas, left the mourning capital at +noon on the first leg of a flying voyage to Lisbon where he is to +perform a delicate operation on a prominent jurist.'" + +"They got away!" Rafael said. + +"It's not so bad," Hall said. "That is, it won't be if ..." + +"Of course, Mateo. If we can pin the arrows on Ansaldo after this +statement," Santiago said, "it will be very hard for Gamburdo to explain +to anyone. Especially since you have that picture of Gamburdo at the +secret Falange dinner." + +"I have more than that. I have a copy of the report the Inspector +General of the Falange made about Gamburdo at that dinner, and it's +written on official stationery. We've just got to get more on Ansaldo!" + +"Are you still against raiding the Embassy, Rafael?" + +"I changed my mind. When do we do it? Tonight?" + +"I hope so, Rafael, you'll have to find Dr. Moré. I think you'll catch +him in at the clinic now. Tell him to get Rivas and bring him to his own +house in Vedado." + +Hall took out his wallet. "Here, Rafael, you'll need money for taxis." + +"Are you crazy, Mateo? This is a hundred-peso note." + +"You'll also need a new suit. They won't let you into the Spanish +Embassy in those clothes." + +"I'll buy my own clothes!" + +"Rafael," Santiago said, gently, "Hall is our _compañero_." + +The boy began to blush. "I am sorry," he stammered, "but it is not my +way to accept such offers." + +"I don't offer it to a man," Hall said. "I gave it to an officer of the +People's Army. It is money intended to aid that army in its fight." + +"Hurry up, Rafael," Santiago said. "We will argue after we get out of +the Embassy--if we get out." + +"I've got to see Lobo," Hall said when Rafael left. "I've got to tell +him to ask the American Intelligence Service to check on Ansaldo's +movements in Lisbon. I don't think he is going to operate on any +Portuguese jurist or anyone else in Lisbon." + +"You'll make a fool of yourself, Mateo. You're not dealing with stupid +Spanish fascists like Franco and Gil Robles. You're dealing with the +German Nazis who run the Falange. I know them. They're too smart not to +have a patient waiting in bed for Ansaldo when he gets to Lisbon. Why +don't you see Lobo after our conference with Rivas? In the meanwhile, +I'd better get statements from de Sola and Carlos Echagaray on Ansaldo +and Marina." + + * * * * * + +Meeting Fernando Rivas in the home of the Cuban doctor, Hall was +reminded of what an acid-tongued Czech journalist said to him at Geneva +about Chautemps, a French politician. There was nothing wrong with the +politician, the Czech said, except that he had the face of a traitor. In +a city where the sun always shined, Rivas had the pallor of a skin which +never saw the sun. He sat tensely at the edge of the chair in Moré's +study, hands working a battered Panama, his puffy eyes darting furtive +looks at Rafael and Hall, men he had never seen before but whom he +obviously suspected of being agents of the Republican underground. Hall +thought: this is a man who can no longer know hate or love or anything +but fear. + +It was Santiago's show. He ran it on his own terms. From the outset, he +made it clear that he, or rather the Republic for which he spoke, was +giving the orders. They were given decently, temperately, but not +without the proof that force lay behind the commands. Rivas was to +address him as Colonel. "And these," he said, indicating Rafael and +Hall, "are my aides, Majors Juan and Pancho." + +"What is it you want of me, Colonel? There is nothing I would not do for +you." + +"For whom?" + +"For the--for the Republic." + +"What Republic?" + +"The Republic of Spain. The Republic of the Constitution of 1931." + +"And why should the Republic trust you now, Rivas?" + +"There is no reason, Colonel. I can ask only in the name of my family." + +Rafael had seen the older brother of Rivas die charging a German battery +near Bilbao. "It is not your privilege," he said. "I knew your brother." +Hall laid a restraining hand on his arm. + +"You betrayed your family when you betrayed your people," Santiago said, +softly. "It is not good enough. I must have a better reason." + +"State your own terms," Rivas said. "I will meet them." + +"Why?" + +The traitor took out a silk handkerchief, mopped his face. He suddenly +seemed to grow, to straighten his back. His head held high, he looked +each man proudly in the eyes. A moment earlier, his hands, his lips had +been quivering. Now they were firm and still. "Why?" he repeated in a +new, stronger voice. "Why?" He was fighting for one last chance, +fighting with his remaining reserve of dignity. "I'll tell you why, my +Colonel. Because I don't care whether I live or not. But I want to die +as a Spaniard, as a free man again. I want to die as a Republican. Is +that reason enough?" + +Colonel Santiago Iglesias was not a cruel person. He hated to play cat +and mouse with a human being, even with such as Rivas. But his first +responsibilities were to the Republic. "I hardly think so," he said, +speaking as an officer, although as a man he knew that Rivas had stated +a good reason, because he knew the reason to be true. "I hardly think +so, Rivas," he said. "Merely because the wife of a man who betrayed the +Republic turns out to be a whore is no reason for the Republic to love +him more." + +Fernando Rivas bent forward, as if he were trying to ward off a heavy +series of blows. "No," he said. "It is not reason enough." + +The thin body of Rafael Abelando shook with silent laughter for a +moment, and then it became still. The young major turned to Santiago, +his face filled with a sudden pity for the wreck of a man in the chair. +Hall caught the look, too, the admission of something Rafael would have +died rather than say out loud. The boy was ready to give the traitor +Rivas his last chance. It was the moment Santiago had been waiting for; +without Rafael's implicit confidence in his plan, he had all but decided +to call it off. + +"What do you think, Pancho?" + +Hall nodded agreement. + +"And you, Major?" + +"The hell with what I think. I'll do my thinking later. If he comes +through, I'll tell you what I think. If he funks out on us, I'll slit +his throat." + +"All right, Rivas," Santiago said. "We will give you your chance. We +need your help tonight." + +"Shall I come armed? I am an expert marksman, Colonel." + +"No. We shall carry the arms. You shall carry the key--or the keys. We +want to get into the third floor of the Embassy, and we want to get out +alive--and without shooting. Can it be done?" + +Rivas raised his head, stared into the faces of the three men who held +open the gates of the Republic. "I am willing," he said. "It might take +some planning, gentlemen, but it can be done." He held out his hand to +Santiago. The colonel accepted it. + +"I am glad you are with us," Santiago said. "In a sense, you are the +most fortunate of the four of us. You see, Rivas, if we should all get +killed tonight, yours would be the most lasting memorial." + +"But why me, Colonel?" + +Santiago picked a heavy manila envelope up from the floor. He took out +the photographs of the memoir on Franco's Spain that Rivas had written +in his own hand. "You see," he said, "if we should all die tonight, the +Casa de la Cultura will publish your excellent memoir--with a postscript +about your heroic sacrifice." + +"But how?" Rivas gasped. "Where?" + +"You are surprised, Rivas? Please let me assure you that there are many +of us. We are everywhere where _they_ are. _Claro?_" + +"I understand." For a fleeting moment Rivas had been back with the +Republic, a free man among free men. Now he was again a prisoner, but +with two jailers--Franco and the Republic. Now the Republic could force +the other to destroy him. "Yes," he said, "I understand." The Republic, +he knew, gave him his choice of executioners or his opportunity to fight +for his freedom. + +"Well?" + +"I am grateful," he said. "I am grateful for the chance to belong to the +Republic again." + +"Good. We must plan. Shall we drink on it?" + +There was a decanter of Scotch whisky on Dr. Moré's sideboard. Santiago +filled four glasses to the brim, then called for and filled a fifth +glass. "It is for the other who will be with us tonight," he said. +Eduardo was getting the affidavit on Ansaldo from the exile in Marianao. + +"To the Republic!" + +Hall watched Rivas drink his Scotch in one greedy, hysterical gulp. He +quietly filled the man's glass, shoved the bottle toward him. Rivas +downed the second Scotch, reached for the bottle, then changed his mind +as his hand was in mid-air. + +"Paper," Rivas said. "The desk. I must draw a floor plan of the +Embassy." + + * * * * * + +At eleven o'clock, Rivas let Santiago and his three friends into the +Spanish Embassy through the rear door. + +At ten-thirty, a large but unscheduled military parade started winding +through the streets of Old Havana. No one seemed to know what the parade +was about, but the soldiers in the ranks thought that it had something +to do with a surprise party being given to General Jaime Lobo to +celebrate his promotion in rank. It was his old regiment which had been +called out at nine that night and ordered into parade formation. + +At ten forty-five, the paraders were halted for some reason, and the +General's runners motorcycled down along the line of march and told the +bandmasters to keep on playing the liveliest of tunes. The order reached +the second band in the line just as it stopped in front of the Spanish +Embassy. + +A crowd gathered to listen to the band and watch the parade. Santiago, +Hall, Rafael and Eduardo casually detached themselves from this crowd at +precisely eleven. + +Rivas led them quietly up the back stairs. The blare of the brasses, the +booming of the drums, the crashing of the cymbals penetrated every +corner of the Embassy. "God is with us," he said. "The noise is +wonderful." + +Hall bit his tongue. A fat lot God had to do with it! He was crawling +behind Santiago, the Swiss automatic in the right hand cocked at his +hip. Eduardo was behind him, and ahead of Rafael. "Third floor," he +whispered. "We turn left at the head of the stairs and climb three +steps." + +Santiago pulled out his gun as they approached the third-floor landing. +He allowed Rivas to get a few steps ahead of him, to take the three +steps which led to the library. "Go in with Rivas," he whispered to +Hall. "You too, Eduardo." + +They followed Rivas into the dark room. He was standing near a draped +wall, motioning to them to follow him quietly. "Behind the drape," he +said. Eduardo closed in next to him. He frisked him for hidden knives or +guns. "Don't move," he said. + +Santiago joined Eduardo and Hall. "Rafael is covering the door," he +said. He motioned to Rivas to approach the drape. Eduardo remained at +the traitor's heels, the gun in Rivas's back. Hall knew what to do. He +waited until Santiago flattened himself out against the wall which +paralleled the drape, then he quickly drew the cloth to one side. He +found himself facing a large steel cabinet built into the wall. + +"Open." Santiago's fingers twirled an imaginary dial before his nose. +"Open it, Rivas." + +The frightened man who was both host and hostage raised his hand slowly, +fingered the dial, dropped his hand in disgust. He dried his sopping +fingers against the front of his jacket, tried again. The tumblers of +the lock rose and fell; the lock remained closed. Santiago slowly +released the safety catch of his pistol. "What passes?" he asked. + +"Ssh," Rivas pleaded. "I'll try it again." + +"Wait." Hall held a small bottle of brandy up to Rivas's face. "Take a +drink. It will steady your hands." + +"Many thanks." + +"Open it." + +"It's coming, Colonel." + +Santiago looked at the luminous dial of his wrist watch; eight minutes +gone. The band would not be under the window all night. He beckoned to +Hall. "That white door near the window, Mateo. He says you will find the +_Arribas_ in there perhaps." + +"I'll try it." + +"He's opened the steel door," Eduardo said. + +"Keep him covered." Santiago stepped in front of Rivas, opened the door +as wide as it would swing. He faced a multitude of locked steel drawers. + +"Let me," Eduardo said. He changed places with Santiago. He was good at +picking such picayune locks; the concentration camp on the Isle of Pines +was full of native fascists whose careers ended when Eduardo jimmied +open the locks that protected their secrets. He could crack them open +swiftly, almost noiselessly. + +"There's one," he whispered. "Two." + +"He has a talent," Santiago said to Rivas. + +Hall glided over to the white door of the closet. Like the others, he +wore soft-soled rubber shoes. He took a small oil can from his pocket, +saturated the hinges and the handle of the white door. Slowly, he opened +the wooden door. A book balanced precariously on an upper shelf behind +the door started to fall. He grabbed it with his left hand. A rash of +invisible pimples spread over his scalp. Too much noise that time, even +though the book didn't fall. He held his breath, counted to twenty. The +band was still blaring, the drums pounding away. Good old God! + +He ran the slim beam of the dime-store flashlight over the shelves. +_Informaciones, A.B.C._, ah, here, _Arriba_! He turned to signal to +Santiago that he had found it, but the colonel had again changed places +with Eduardo, was now emptying documents from the little steel drawers +to the inside of his shirt. + +Rafael, standing guard at the doorway, wildly signaled Hall to get to +work on the files. He pointed vigorously to the non-existent watch on +his narrow wrist. + +Hall dug into the _Arriba_ pile. He pulled the top of the 1938 batch to +the floor, sat down in front of them. April. May. June. Not here. +Impossible! He sneaked the remainder of the brandy into his throat. Once +again. April. He looked at Santiago, working calmly; light flickering +over the papers in the drawers, eyes selecting the wheat from the chaff. +The problem is April. It happened in April, 1938. Easy does it. April +One. April Two. Three. Four. Seven. Nine. No. No. Not yet. + +Santiago was in the middle of the room, his hands crammed with papers. +He beckoned to Rafael, stuffed batches of papers into the major's shirt. + +"Got the bastard!" Hall said. He forgot to whisper. He climbed to his +feet, a yellowing newspaper in his hands. "Got it!" + +A door opened on the floor above. "Rivas?" someone on the fourth-floor +landing called. + +Rafael was still in the room. Santiago held his shoulder, shook his +head. Stay here, he motioned. He signaled for Rivas, handed him his own +gun. He pointed to the third-floor landing, smiled at the man. + +The four men in the room covered the back of Fernando Rivas as he +advanced toward the landing, the warm gun gripped firmly in his sweaty +hand. They watched him stick his head out of the door, say, hoarsely, +"Yes. It's all right," the gun hidden behind his thigh. + +"What's all the noise?" Fourth Floor again. + +"Parade." + +"What are you doing there?" No suspicion--just conversation. Anyone +could see Fourth Floor only meant conversation. Anyone but Rivas. To a +man, the four behind Rivas prayed he would stall off the man above him +with a polite nothing. + +"None of your business, you fascist pig!" + +Over and above all the noises of the city, of the band on the corner, of +the hearts thumping in the breasts of the four men in the room there +fell a whining silence which was both hours long and seconds short. Then +the silence was shattered by the crashing explosions of two heavy +pistols. + +"Let me." Rafael ran to the doorway, flattened out against the wall. His +eyes took in the prone body of Rivas at the landing and the heap of man +sprawled on the stairs. Rivas was dead. His gun lay near his head. The +man on the stairs still held onto his gun. Rafael reached behind him for +the silent weapon, the weapon you used on lone forays into enemy +territory, on guards in concentration camps. + +The knife flashed over his head, pinned the hand with the pistol to the +wooden stairs. Behind the knife flew Rafael. Once again the blade was +raised, this time with a hand still on it as it descended. + +Eduardo pulled Hall's sleeve. "Quick," he said. "The stairs. Follow me." + +"All right," Rafael said to the dead Rivas, "now you're a Republican." + +The watch on Santiago's wrist read 11.29 when Rafael, the last man to +leave, melted into the crowd around the band. People on the sidewalk +could hear feet pounding heavily through the large empty rooms of the +Embassy. Lights were going on in all the dark windows. Yells. A woman's +scream. + +At the head of the parade, a baton twirled. The uniforms started to move +forward. The crowd on the sidelines followed the band. + + * * * * * + +Later, sitting in Lobo's office, the mass of documents from the shirts +of Santiago and Eduardo and Rafael on the desk before the general, Hall +remembered his outcry when he found the picture of Ansaldo and the Axis +officers giving the fascist salute. My "got it!" got poor Rivas, he +thought. I'm still an amateur at it. Santiago was good; found dynamite, +but he kept his mouth shut. Eduardo was good; cracked the locks and kept +his mouth shut. Rafael was good; finished off the bastard from the +Fourth Floor in seconds, and remembered to use a knife, and kept his +mouth shut until it was all over. Funny the way he stood over what +remained of Rivas and said, "All right, now you're a Republican." +Mocking, yet respectful. It was good; no forgiveness for the dead man's +treachery but respect for his insane courage. + +"It was a nice band concert, yes?" Lobo said. "Plenty of bim bam boom in +the drums. Tsing! Tsing! Cymbals. Tarantara, tarantara." + +"Sure." + +"I'm a one-man band, eh, keed?" + +"Colossal." + +"What's eating you, Matt? That little slob who killed himself with his +big mouth?" + +"It was my fault, Jaime. It was my big mouth." + +The General picked up a fistful of the documents which had cost the life +of Fernando Rivas. "What the hell is his life worth compared to the +lives of the hundreds of American seamen who now won't be sent to the +bottom by Nazi torpedoes in the South Atlantic? I'll say it again, Matt, +and if you'd stick around long enough, I could prove it. By tomorrow +morning I'll have at least twenty mucking bastards in the calabozo +thanks to what's in these papers; twenty fascist snakes who are the eyes +and the ears and the oil and the water of the Nazi subs in this part of +the ocean. You did it--and at the cost of only one second-rate life. +Isn't it worth it?" + +Hall was going through the documents on the desk. Bombshells, most of +them. + + _Mandato # 36: 1940. From: Inspector-General Delegación + Nacional, del Servicio Exterior, de Falange Española + Tradicionalista de las J.O.N.S. To: Jefe Supremo, Falange de + San Hermano._ In Re: A.T.N. Effective immediately you will form + Acción Tradicionalista Nacional, to replace organization of + Falange ordered dissolved by the Jew-Communist betrayer, Tabio. + You will replace Yoke and Arrows with new symbol of Cross and + Sword. Until further orders, you will not enter Spanish Embassy + or consulates. _Camarada_ Portada will arrive with detailed + orders within thirty days. _Saluda a_ Franco! _Arriba_ España! + + _Mandato # 74: 1941, Servicio Exterior. Confidential_: + Enrique Gamburdo entered Tabio government with permission and + approval of the National Delegation of the Falange. _Camarada_ + Gamburdo is to be given the support and unquestioning loyalty + due an Old Shirt. There will be no exceptions to this order. + Signed ... + + _Orden # 107: 1941. Confidential_: Our heroic Japanese Allies + have today destroyed the Jew-Protestant-Marxist American fleet + in Honolulu. _Camaradas_ of the Cross and Sword must be + prepared to defend the wise peace policies of _Camarada_ + Gamburdo against the Jewish war mongers who will now try to + make the Kahal the government in San Hermano. El Caudillo has + shown how the Motherland can frustrate the war mongers. Do not + falter and delay the glorious hour of our final victory. + _Camarada_ Marcelino Gassau will soon arrive in San Hermano + with instructions on how to help the victory. Signed ... + +"Photograph these, will you, Jaime?" + +Lobo was sorting out the documents in rough piles. Sabotage. Espionage. +Undersea warfare. Guantanamo. Cuban politics. "The works," he grinned. +"In a week, this haul will have crammed our prisons with fascist rats. +If we didn't have to avoid treading on the toes of your State Department +these documents would be enough to put the Spanish Ambassador in the +calabozo and bring about a break with Franco. But even if it happens, +you won't be around to see it, Matt. You're leaving in exactly four +hours." + +"Four hours?" + +"Just a minute. That's my private phone. Yes, General Lobo speaking." He +put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Pick up the other phone. It's the +Spanish Ambassador." + +"O.K." + +"Yes, Mr. Ambassador?" + +"General! Something terrible has happened." + +"Terrible?" + +"There's been a murder in the Embassy. Someone broke into the Embassy +and shot one of our attachés. Communists, I think." + +"Is he dead? When did this all happen?" + +"Five minutes ago." + +Hall and Lobo looked at the wall clock. The hands showed ten minutes +after one. + +"Five minutes or hours, Mr. Ambassador?" + +"Minutes, General. It just happened." + +"Where did it happen?" + +"On the stairs. The back stairs, between the third and fourth floors. It +is terrible." + +"Who is the man?" + +"Elicio Portada, General Lobo. Poor Portada!" + +"Just a minute." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Listen to those +lies, will you? Only one body. Three hours to dispose of the Rivas +carcass and search the files. Did you leave them in much of a mess, +Matt?" + +"I don't remember." + +"It doesn't matter." The hand came away from the phone. "Hello. Yes, +this is still General Lobo. Mr. Ambassador, I have very serious news for +you. As the representative of a friendly neutral, I am sure we can count +on your co-operation." + +"What is it, General?" + +"We happen to have incontrovertible evidence that the late Elicio +Portada was connected with a Nazi-Falange ring in direct contact with +German submarine fleets in these waters. My immediate deduction is that +he was killed by members of this ring to keep him from confessing to us. +He was on the verge of making a complete confession." + +"What? It is preposterous! I shall protest to the Foreign Minister!" + +"Suit yourself, señor. Our evidence is incontrovertible. In the +meanwhile, thanks to your attitude as you now express it. I must remind +you that while the crime was committed on what is legally Spanish +territory, if you move the body one inch out of the Embassy grounds you +will be moving it on to Cuban national territory. Do you understand me? +Not one body is to be moved out of the Embassy without my consent. Not +one body, do you understand?" + +"My government shall protest your interference, General Lobo." + +"Let them. I'm sending two men over to the Embassy. Tell them what +happened. And make up a list of all of Portada's friends. We'll find the +murderer on that list, I'll warrant." He hung up the telephone with a +slam. + +"Let him sleep that off," he laughed. "My super-dooper crime laboratory +will prove that the Ambassador lied about the time of the shooting. My +super-sleuths will find bloodstains on the third-floor landing--and I +hope to Christ Rivas has a different blood type than Portada. My +super-sleuths will keep a straight face when the fascists hand them the +gun of the missing murderer. Then my colossal courtesy-of-the-F.B.I. +crime laboratory will find Rivas's fingerprints on the gun. Mystery: +where is Rivas?" + +"Have you got his fingerprints?" + +"Teniente," Lobo shouted into the inter-phone, "send those Einsteins of +crime to the home of Fernando Rivas of the Spanish Embassy. Bring back +fingerprints: best place to find them is liquor bottle, razor, hair +brush--and do it fast." + +"Good going." + +"I'll teach that fascist bastard to tell me nursery tales on the +telephone at one in the morning." Lobo was growing genuinely indignant. +"God, how I wish you didn't have to leave town, Matt. I'm going to be +running a circus for the next two weeks!" + +"I'll take a rain check on it, Jaime. Maybe I can come back in time for +the closing day." + +"Who knows?" Lobo sent for his aide, ordered microfilm copies of the +documents to be ready in four hours. "And bring me the special belts and +harnesses, Teniente." + +"Did you get me a seat on a Panair plane? I thought Figueroa would take +care of that." + +"Better than that, my boy." Lobo crossed the room, opened a panel in the +wall. It revealed a closet filled with uniforms. "Get into one that +fits, Mateo. I have a seat for you on a Flying Fortress headed for +Caracas." + +"_Yanqui?_" + +"_Yanqui._ You're traveling as Major Angel Blanco of my confidential +staff. You are going south for me on a most delicate mission. You speak +very little English, and you stink from pomade. Besides, you wear these +thick glasses and you've been out on such a night of wild Latin +debauchery that you sleep most of the time. In short, you are the +Anglo-Saxon's dream of the stupid, conceited, lecherous Latin officer +who can't hold his liquor." + +"_Claro._ I'm repulsive." + +"Yes, but you are also a walking microfilm file, only no one knows it. +Your belt, your Sam Browne harness, the lining of your short boots, the +inside of the visor of your cap are filled with identical sets of +microfilms. Your pouch carries a letter from me to a General XYZ in +code--and God preserve the sanity of anyone who attempts to uncode it. +It will add up to precisely three tons of _mierda de caballo_." + +Hall found a uniform that fit him. He got into it, smeared the proffered +pomade into his black hair. "Do I carry any baggage?" + +"We'll pack you a bag. Two extra uniforms, pictures of your wife, your +mistress, and your mother, a pound of pomade, a few copies of the +_Infantry Journal_--it will be all right." + +"I can imagine. But before I go, Jaime, there's something I don't quite +get. Why did the Spanish Embassy crowd have to hide Rivas's body? Why +couldn't they admit that he did it?" + +Lobo adjusted Hall's tunic. "Elementary, my dear Watson," he said. "The +Portada blighter was sleeping with the Rivas bloke's wife. It's the +Ambassador's job to avoid scandals within the happy family. Admitting +Rivas killed Portada over a rag, a bone, and a hank o' hair would be a +confession the Ambassador couldn't run his own show. Elementary?" + +"No. You're improvising, and the notes sound all wrong. Let me know +about it when you really find out, Sherlock." + +"Come back in two weeks." General Lobo yawned, stretched his long frame. +"I'll take you to the American air base myself," he said. "I'll +introduce you and act as your interpreter. And after you take off, +you'll be on your own. Who's meeting you in Caracas, by the way?" + +"Major Diego Segador. Know him?" + +Lobo smiled. "You'll get through," he said. "Segador has nine lives, +each of them tougher than the side of a battleship. Ask him to tell you +what we did to those three Nazi heavyweights in San Souci in '39. _Madre +de Dios_, Mateo, it was carnage!" + +Twenty steps down the corridor, a Negro technician was focusing a sharp +lens on page three of _Arriba_ for April 27, 1938. The picture which +spread across four columns of the top of the page was remarkably like +the picture Hall had carried in his mind since that day with Jerry in +San Hermano. The fans in the negative dryer were whirring over +twenty-odd other negatives. Lobo was right, Hall realized. They were +worth the life of one Rivas, they might yet take the life of a Hall. The +stakes were worth the risk. Kill the beast in San Hermano, drive a knife +into its arteries, keep it from crawling north and its foul breath +beginning to stink up the clean air. Kill, so you can live again, kill, +so you can go back to Ohio when the beast was dead, and have children +and not worry that some day they'd have to kill or be killed too. Kill +for the same reasons the Rafaels and the Santiagos and the Lobos kill +and you'll never have to lose a night's sleep. + +"What are you thinking, Mateo?" + +"I'm thinking of the girl I'm going to marry in two weeks." + +"_Hijo de la gran puta!_ He's in love, too! Let's go to the laboratory. +We've got a lot to do before you go." + + + + +_Chapter seventeen_ + + +The American Army plane banked sharply over the blacked-out Caracas +field. Three times the four-motored ship circled the airport, breaking +its speed, rousing the men who controlled the lights along the correct +runways. During the second time around, Hall thought he saw a Douglas +with the bright green-and-white flag on its wings. He was not so sure +the third time. + +The pilot brought his ship in gently. It rolled down the new concrete +strip, a silver juggernaut in a cloud of red dust. Hall climbed out, +gave the captain a silver cigarette case as a souvenir of the trip. The +plane was not through for the night; it was to take on more fuel and +proceed to a base farther south. + +Hall went to the small operations building. He showed his papers to a +sleepy official, had his passport stamped. "That Douglas on the other +end of the field," he said to the official, "is that the plane from San +Hermano?" + +The official didn't know. He offered to find out. "It is not of +importance," Hall said. He left his bag with the official. "I will be +ready to go to the city as soon as the American plane takes off. Is that +car for me?" + +He went out to the field, stood chatting with the American flying +officers as they stretched their legs and smoked while their plane was +readied for the next leg of their flight. The boys were an agreeable +surprise, or they had a C. O. with brains; each of them spoke some +degree of Spanish, and to a man they were polite to the "Cuban officer" +who had made the trip with them. It was a decent, non-condescending +politeness. + +"I am going to ask General Lobo to thank you all for your kindness," he +said. "You are, as they say in English, _damn regular guys_!" + +The young captain, who had given Hall his life history and his Seattle +home address, was touched. "Aw," he said, "we're just ordinary Yanks, +Major Blanco. Don't forget to look me up if you ever get to Seattle +after the war. Then I'll show you some real hospitality. _Entiende?_" + +"Oh, I understand perfectly, Captain. And you must visit me, too. You +can always reach me through General Lobo." Hall, who had calmly +appropriated the story of Lobo's boyhood and palmed it off on the +captain as his own during the flight, began to laugh. "Oh, yes, +Captain," he said, "we will have the most amazing reunion after the +war." + +"Well," the American pilot said, "we're shoving off now." + +Hall exchanged salutes and handshakes with the Fortress crew. "_Hasta +pronto_," he shouted, as the last man climbed aboard. He remained where +he stood, waving at the Americans, when he saw the outlines of Segador's +thick shoulders emerging from the lighted doorway of the administration +building. Segador was walking toward the Douglas. + +He approached Hall, glanced at the Cuban uniform for a second, and +continued on his way to the parked plane. There was no hint of +recognition. + +"Pardon me," Hall said to Segador, "have you a match, please?" + +"Of course." + +"Ah, Major, I see the stamp of the government match monopoly. Would you +be from San Hermano, by any chance?" + +In the darkness, Segador's hand crept toward the huge pistol in his +holster. Hall held the unlighted match in his fingers. It was +unbelievable; he was still unrecognized. He had been speaking to Segador +in a disguised voice. "It is a very black night," he said in his normal +voice. + +"Yes--Colonel." + +"Thank you, but it's major. Major Angel Blanco of the Cuban Army, +señor." Then he struck the match, held it close to the cigar in his +mouth. + +"_Madre de Dios!_ It's you!" + +"Who the hell did you think it was, Diego? Wilhelm Androtten?" + +"I am a fool. But the uniform, the glasses--this confounded +blackness...." + +"Is that the plane?" + +"Yes. We can't take off until morning. I can't trust the night flying +instruments. Was it worth the trip?" + +"_In spades_," he said, in English. + +"It was successful?" + +"Very much, Diego. I found the picture. I found other things." He told +him about the documents on San Hermano which Santiago had taken from the +steel boxes. "If we stand behind the plane can we be seen by anyone?" + +"No. Only by my men in the cabin." + +"Good." They walked farther into the blackness, put the plane between +themselves and any eyes that might be watching them from the field +buildings. "Quick," Hall said, "give me your belt and take mine. It is +loaded with a complete set of negatives." + +The exchange was completed in seconds. "I've got three duplicate sets +hidden on my person," Hall said. "Now they'll have to kill both of us to +stop the truth from reaching San Hermano." + +"I'm sleeping in the plane," Segador said. "You had better sleep in +town. Did you arrange for a hotel, Mateo?" + +"Lobo arranged a room for me through the Cuban Legation. There's a +diplomatic car at the gate now, waiting to take me to town. What time do +we start out?" + +"A minute after sunrise." + +"I'll be here. Can I bring anything from the hotel? Hot coffee? Beer?" + +"No. We have everything. Even," he looked up at the plane and smiled, +"even machine-gun belts." + +Hall followed his eyes. He found himself facing the twin barrels of the +machine guns in the side panel of the Douglas. There was a young soldier +at the firing end of the guns. + +"You do well, Sergeant," Segador said. "At ease." + +"Can he use them, Diego?" + +"He is a fantastic shot, that boy. He was in Spain. But you will meet +him tomorrow." + +"All right. But tell me one thing, if you can. It's been bothering me +for days. How did Ansaldo...?" + +"Don't. I hate to think of it, Mateo. The fascists put us all in a +bottle. _El Imparcial_ ran a big story on the front page--they charged +that Don Anibal's only chance for life lay in an operation by Ansaldo. +They also hinted that selfish politicians were tying Ansaldo's hands. +The Cabinet had to capitulate." + +"And Lavandero?" + +"He didn't vote." + +"Poor Anibal! What was it that finally killed him?" + +Segador savagely bit the end off a cigar. "His faith in scoundrels!" he +said, vehemently. "Enough, Mateo. Shut up before I--I ..." + + * * * * * + +Hall rode into town, had dinner sent up to his room. For an hour or so, +he read the local papers. Then he turned out the lights, took off his +tunic, opened his shirt collar, and put the Sam Browne belt with the +hidden pockets on the bed beside him. It was to be a night of rest +without sleep, a night of relaxing on the unmade bed with a hand never +farther than six inches from one of his two guns. Twice during the long +night he took benzedrine pills to keep awake. There could be no sleep +until the plane was well under way. + + * * * * * + +The two-motored Douglas was warming her engines when the Cuban +diplomatic car delivered Hall to the airport. "Drive right over to that +bomber," he ordered. "Fast." + +"Hey," he shouted before the car could skid to a stop, "taking off +without me?" + +Segador, freshly shaven, stepped to the doorway of the plane. "No. Get +on board. We were waiting. Toss me your grip." + +Hall tipped the driver of the car with a five-dollar note. "Give me a +hand, Diego. I'm not an antelope." Segador and the young sergeant pulled +him into the cabin. + +"Meet my crew. Major Blanco--First Pilot Captain Millares, Co-Pilot +Navigator Lieutenant Cuesta, Sergeant Mechanic Ruiz. They are a picked +crew, and they know what is at stake in this flight." + +The flying officers were at the controls. They saluted Hall, bade him +welcome. "Snub Nose says we can take off," the captain told Segador. + +"Then let's take off. Snub Nose, give Blanco a hand with his safety +belt. His hands are stiff." + +The wiry little sergeant fastened Hall's belt. "A lot of good it will do +you if we ground-loop, Major," he grinned. + +This one was a Spaniard. Hall knew it at once. Young, no more than +twenty-five, but very dry behind the ears. "_Chico_," he said, "if we +crash and I get hurt I'll murder you." + +"You terrify me." Snub Nose was laughing with the animal glee of sheer +happiness in being alive. "But I like you. I brought a bucket along just +for you when you get air-sick." + +"That's enough out of you, General Cisneros!" the first pilot yelled +into the microphone in his fist. "Come on up to the office and stop +bothering your betters." + +"Call me when you feel sick," the boy roared at Hall, his strong-timbred +voice rising above the blasts of the engines. He went up forward, stood +behind the pilots as the big plane taxied into position and took off. + +"I examined the negatives last night," Segador said. "They are worth all +they have cost. Were they very hard to get, Mateo?" + +"Two lives. But one was a doomed life. It was not hard." + +"Feel like sleeping?" Segador pointed to an inflated rubber pallet in +the bomb bay. + +"I could use a few hours of sleep," Hall admitted. He made his way to +the pallet, covered himself with an army greatcoat. + +He slept heavily, waking only to eat, to stretch his legs once when they +landed to refuel and show their papers to a new set of officials, and, +finally, when Segador shook him and told him to put on his parachute. + +"We're near the border," Segador said. He had a map and a heavy black +pencil in his left hand. "Can you put it on?" + +Hall had worn similar chutes while flying with the R.A.F. over France. +He waved Snub Nose away with a derisive gesture. "Back to your nursery, +_chico_," he said to the sergeant. "I was wearing chutes when you were +in diapers." + +"I'm sorry," Snub Nose said, deliberately misunderstanding, "we can't +give you a diaper, señor. Just make believe you're wearing a diaper if +you have to jump." + +Hall looked out of the window. The late afternoon sun was beginning to +wane. + +"Look," Segador said, making a mark on the map. "We are here now. I'd +planned on crossing our own borders just after dark. But we had a strong +tail wind all the way. We're ahead of time." + +"Good." + +"It's not so good, Mateo. Most of the army is loyal, but for the last +two months Gamburdo has been bringing the Germans back into the army." + +"Germans?" + +"We call them the Germans. I mean the sons of the _estancieros_ and the +_señoritos_ who became officers under Segura while he had his Reichswehr +experts running the army. Tabio kicked them out, but he neglected to +shoot them. The bastards are everywhere now. We have to assume that they +know I left the country in a Douglas bomber. You might have been +recognized in Havana or in Caracas by Falangist agents. The Germans are +also able to put two and two together." + +"I was very careful." + +"But it cost two lives." Segador flipped a switch on the panel in front +of his seat. "Attention, everyone," he said into his microphone. +"Lieutenant, how soon before we reach the national border?" + +"If we maintain our air speed, Major, we are due to cross the border in +less than forty minutes." + +"Good. Come back here, please." Then, while the co-pilot left his seat +up front and started back to the seats near the bomb bay, Segador +continued talking. "Captain, you know what we must expect. The fliers +are all loyal; I don't think they would shoot down one of our own planes +without permission of their chief. But there are too many Germans in the +A-A arm. We may have trouble from the ground." + +"I can fly higher, sir. We are now at seven thousand." + +"Take her up to nine." He turned to the navigator. "How much will that +put between our belly and the mountain tops at the border?" + +"Three thousand, Major." + +"Not enough." + +"We can climb higher and fly on oxygen," the captain suggested. + +"No. We've got to take this chance," Segador said. There was not enough +oxygen on board, and only the major knew that this was because the chief +of the air arm feared the new officers who handled the oxygen depot. + +"Navigator, take a look at my map." The pencil traced a straight line +extending two hundred miles across the border. "Is this our course?" + +"Yes, Major. We are flying on course now." + +"Thanks." Segador looked at his watch, extended the pencil line another +hundred miles into the country. "Snub Nose--how much flying time is left +in our fuel tanks?" + +"Three hours." + +The point of the pencil came to rest at the end of the line Segador had +drawn on the map. "Can we make this point on our gas and still have +enough left to fly back to San Martin Airport _from the north_? It would +mean flying a wide circle." + +The navigator studied the map. "It can be done, sir." + +"Good. Mateo, my plan is to drop by parachute with the negatives at this +point. The plane is then to return and land at San Martin. You will then +make your way to San Hermano by train and go directly to Gonzales by +car." + +"Will I be followed?" + +"I have a man at San Martin. He will guide you." + +"And you?" + +"With luck, I'll be in San Hermano before you." + +"All right." + +"Nine thousand," the captain said. "Border ahead." + +"Pour on the coals. Take your stations, men." Segador patted Snub Nose +on the back as the youngster crawled into the glass bubble below the +pilot's feet. The navigator went to the guns in the rear. "Stay here, +Mateo," Segador ordered. He climbed into the mid-ship gun turret. + +Hall had once been accustomed to being human super-cargo on board a +fighting plane. This time the feeling irritated him. For want of +something better to do, he took down a tommy gun from a rack near +Segador's seat and examined it for dust and grease. It was immaculately +kept. He laid it across his lap. + +"Crossing the border now," the pilot announced. + +The plane shot across the heavily wooded mountains, left them well +behind in fifteen minutes. Hall followed the fading shadows of the plane +as it sped over the foothills. In a few minutes, darkness would blot out +the shadows, and then he would again know the strangely exhilarating +feeling of being alone in the skies at night. + +"Lieutenant," Segador said, "go up front and check the course." + +The major and the sergeant remained at their guns. "More hills ahead," +the navigator explained to Hall as he passed. + +"No lights," Segador ordered. + +Hall walked forward, stood behind the men at the instruments. The +navigator was making his readings under a shielded blue light. Millares, +the pilot, pulled back on his stick, slightly, begging altitude at a +minimum loss of air speed as he climbed to put more distance between the +plane and the string of lower hills which lay across their course. + +The navigator suddenly became very busy at his radio. "Major," he said +into his microphone, "we are being called by a ground station. They've +spotted us. They want to know who is in command, and what flight this +is." + +"Stick to your course," Segador answered. "Maximum speed." He crawled +back to the main cabin. + +"What shall I answer, Major?" + +"Don't answer them. We'll just act as if we didn't pick up their +signal." + +"Yes, Major. They're repeating their request." + +"Mateo," Segador said, "this is very bad. I don't know who controls the +ground station. We can't take chances. I'm jumping as soon as it gets +dark." + +"That's a matter of minutes." + +"I know. Navigator, the plan remains the same, except that I jump in ten +minutes. Ignore all ground challenges on your way back to San Martin." + +"I'm jumping with you," Hall said. + +"No, you're not." + +"If they shoot us down on the way back to San Martin, the negatives will +fall into their hands, if they're not destroyed." + +"Suppose we both jump and are both caught?" + +"It's a chance I'd rather take, Diego." Hall opened the secret pocket in +the visor of his Cuban Army cap. "Let me leave this set of negatives +with Snub Nose. I have two more sets on me--in my Sam Browne and my +boots." + +"I have to think about it." Segador adjusted the harness of his +parachute. Then he picked up his microphone. "Snub Nose," he ordered, +"come back here. Adjust the _compañero's_ parachute. He's jumping with +me." + +"_Bueno._ I'll show him how to use it, too." + +Hall and Segador formally shook hands with the rest of the crew before +they jumped. + +For a few long seconds, plunging face downward, Hall could not think. He +saw the plane pass over his feet, silver wings etched against the dark +ceiling. He counted to seven, aloud, his voice lost in the wind. Then he +pulled the release cord. There was the expected moment of tensing pain +as the silk clawed at the night air and the straps of the harness cut +into the insides of his thighs. In his mind's eye there was a picture he +had forgotten: a sand-bagged office in London on a bright May morning, +the English girl with the yellow crutch under her arm as she handed him +the mail. Tear sheets on the series he'd done in Scotland. _Copyright +1940 by Ball Syndicate Inc., Somewhere in England, April 19, 1940._ This +morning I took my place in line inside of a converted Lancaster, watched +the man in front of me lean out and tumble into the clear sky, and then +did exactly as he had done. I counted to ten, pulled my release cord, +and ... And what a hell of a pseudo-romantic way to make a living, he'd +said to himself and to the English girl that morning. + +But tonight there was nothing phony about sitting in a canvas sling, +falling through a wet cloud, eyes peeled for the white of Segador's +parachute. Tonight he was no Sunday supplement kibitzer taking a joy +ride amidst men rehearsing for death. Tonight he was finally in the war, +as a combatant. + +The tricks he had learned in Scotland served him in good stead now. He +was able to play the cords of the parachute, guiding the direction of +his descent so that he followed Segador. There was little time to think +of anything but the operation of the moment. Fortunately, it was a green +night. Like Segador, Hall could see from a thousand feet that they were +dropping over a sloping meadow. At about two hundred feet, they could +see that they were going to land in the middle of a flock of sheep. + +The sheep began to bleat madly and run about in circles, as first +Segador, then Hall, dropped into their pasture. Segador broke free of +his silk, ran over to help the American. "Careful," he said. "With so +many sheep, there must be a herder around. Let me do the talking." + +A man in a woolly sheepskin cape was following a cautious sheep dog +toward the spot where they stood. He carried a rifle. + +Segador allowed the shepherd to approach to within fifty feet. "_Hola!_" +he called. "We have disturbed your flock." + +The shepherd said something to his dog, continued advancing slowly +toward the two men from the sky. + +"He is afraid we might be Germans," Segador said. "They hate the Germans +worse than the devil in the country." + +"Who are you?" The shepherd was now quite close to them. Hall could see +at once that he was a Basque. + +"Vasco?" Hall asked. He poured out a stream of Basque greetings. They +served only to put the shepherd more on his guard. + +"I saw you fall from the skies--like _quintacolumnistas_." + +"That is true, _compañero_," Segador said. "But we are not fifth +columnists." + +"Are you of the Republic?" + +"Yes." + +"The other. He is not of the Republic. His uniform is different, and he +speaks the tongue of my fathers badly." + +"He is of the Republic of Cuba. He is a friend of our Republic." + +"You both have guns," the herder said. He looked at his dog, who stood +between him and the intruders. "If you are friends, you will give your +guns to the dog. I am without letters, but if you are friends, you can +prove it to an educated man in our village." + +"What is your village?" + +"You have guns." + +"They are yours, _compañero_. See, I take mine. I lay it on the ground +for your dog." + +The shepherd addressed his dog in Euzkadi. The dog walked over to the +gun, picked it up in his mouth, dropped it at the peasant's feet. He +then made a trip for Hall's gun. + +"You will walk in front of me," the shepherd said. "We will go toward +that stile." He picked up the two pistols, shoved them into his skin +bag. + +Segador started to laugh. "I salute your vigilance, shepherd. We had two +guns to your one. We could have shot you first. A coward would have run +for help, first." + +"Cowards do not serve the Republic," the shepherd said. He remained ten +feet behind them, ignoring Segador's further attempts at conversation, +marching them toward a thatched hut on the outskirts of a tiny village. +When they approached the hut, the dog ran ahead, started to scratch on +the unpainted door. + +An Indian woman with a mestizo baby in her arms stood in the doorway +when the three men reached the hut. "Let them in, woman," the shepherd +ordered. + +The inside of the small hut was dark and bare. On a pallet in the far +corner, Hall could see the forms of children huddled in sleep, how many +he could not tell. There was a stone stove, a hand-hewn table and two +benches. In another corner, a fragment of a tallow candle burned +fitfully under a dim portrait. Hall realized, with an inward start, that +the portrait was not of Jesus but of Anibal Tabio. + +"Hold the gun." + +The woman put the baby on the pallet with the other children, took the +rifle in her hands. + +"If you are of the Republic," the shepherd said, "you will allow me to +tie your hands." + +"We are of the Republic--and for the Educator, who is now dead." + +The woman, who held the gun, backed away, closer to the picture, while +her husband bound the hands of Segador and Hall behind their backs, and +then connected all four hands with a third length of rope. + +"Send your woman for the educated man," Segador said. "But hurry. We are +on a mission for the Republic. We must not be delayed too long." + +The shepherd took the gun from his wife. "Go then," he said to her. +"Bring Bustamente the Notary to this house." + +Two of the children on the pallet were now sitting up, staring at the +visitors with wide, frightened eyes. Segador grinned at them. His eyes +were growing accustomed to the darkness. "Go back to sleep, _niños_," he +whispered. "We will play with you when you awake." + +The kids ducked under the woolly coverlet, hiding their heads. + +"Sit down," the shepherd said. "If you are friends, I will offer you the +hospitality of this table." He started to roll a cigarette out of a +fragment of newspaper. + +"There are cigarettes in my pocket," Hall suggested. "Cuban cigarettes. +Perhaps you would like one." + +The shepherd rose from his own bench without a word, found the +cigarettes, put two in the mouths of Hall and Segador. He struck a rope +lighter, started their cigarettes. Then, still without speaking, he +finished rolling his own cigarette and lit it. "If you are fifth +columnists," he said, "I spit on your cigarettes." There was no rancor +in his statement; it was a polite expression of simple logic. + +His wife returned in a few minutes. She was with a nervous little +white-haired man who clung to the waistband of his alpaca trousers. He +carried a shiny alpaca jacket in his free arm--this and the steel-framed +glasses on his ancient nose were his badges of authority. + +"This is Bustamente the Notary," the shepherd said. + +Bustamente fingered his glasses. "Yes," he said, alive to the importance +of the moment. "I am the Notary." He squinted down his nose at the two +men. + +"Major Diego Segador, of the Republic. And this is my colleague, Major +Angel Blanco, of the Cuban Army." + +"They fell from the sky," the shepherd said. "Like fifth columnists." + +"Is that true, Your Eminences?" Bustamente the Notary was taking no +chances. + +"It is true." + +"And you have papers?" + +"We have papers. Mine are in here. And yours, Major Blanco?" + +The Notary adjusted his glasses, turned to the papers while the +shepherd's wife held a candle over them. "Ay," he said. "They look real. +Yes, I must admit they look real. On the other hand, I must also admit +that I have never seen real Cuban papers." This was indeed a problem for +the Notary. He scratched his chin, importantly, cleared his throat with +a rumbling hawk. "What do you think, Juan Antonio?" + +"I am without letters," the shepherd said. + +"I must admit," the Notary said, not without sadness, "I must admit that +I have never seen real papers of our own army." + +"Please," Segador said, "it is important that we get to San Hermano. Is +there anyone in this village who is not for the landowners or the mine +owners or the Germans who has seen real papers? I ask this in the name +of Don Anibal Tabio, in whose name we undertook our mission." + +"Justice will be done," said Bustamente the Notary. "This is the era of +justice, my good friends." He tried to punctuate his pronouncement with +Tabio's famous gesture. To do this he had to release his waistband, and +his trousers started to fall to his knees. From the pallet came a +choking snicker. + +"Silence!" Juan Antonio hissed to the kids on the dark pallet. "Show +respect for Bustamente the Notary." His wife, at the same time, restored +the Notary's dignity by handing him a length of cord to use as a belt. +He fixed his trousers and then made the moment truly solemn by putting +on his jacket. + +"I am sure the Notary will dispense the justice of the Republic," the +shepherd said. + +"_Hombre!_ This is very serious," Bustamente the Notary whispered. It +was a loud stage whisper. "We must consider our decision with careful +seriousness, Juan Antonio." He stepped outside of the hut. + +Hall could hear his discussion with the shepherd. "The one who claims to +be of us," the Notary said, "he does not talk like an enemy of Don +Anibal, Mayhissoulrestinpeace. How does the other talk?" + +"I do not know. He tried to speak in Euzkadi. It is not his tongue." + +"It is, in a sense, suspicious then. But we must not be hasty. Justice +begins in the village." The phrase was Tabio's. + +"What are we to do, Señor Notary?" + +"The laws of the Constitution of the Republic guarantee justice to all +suspects, Juan Antonio. Please tell me all you know about the two +officers." + +He listened to the simple recital of the facts. "Ay, it is as I have +observed, _amigo_. There is much to be said on both sides. If they were +Germans or fifth columnists, perhaps they would have shot you first. On +the other hand, since neither of us has ever seen a Cuban uniform, how +can we tell? And if they are ours, why did they drop from the sky into +the middle of a flock of sheep?" + +"It is very deep, Señor Notary." + +"Let us talk softer, Juan Antonio. Perhaps they can hear us inside." + +They moved farther from the doorway, conversed in whispers for a few +minutes, and then they started to walk down the dirt street of the +village. Hall and Segador sat patiently, without exchanging a word. +Once, while they waited for the shepherd and the Notary, Segador told +Hall with a look that he thought everything was going to be all right. +Then the two villagers returned with two horses and two donkeys. + +"We have decided," said Bustamente the Notary, "that in the interests of +full justice we must take you to see the school teacher in Puente Bajo. +He will know what to do." + +Segador sighed with relief. "Thank you, Señor Notary," he said. "And +thank you, _Compañero_ Shepherd. I am certain that your decision is the +wisest one could make, and that we shall receive ample justice from the +school teacher of Puente Bajo. But tell me, how far is the village from +here?" + +"It is less than five miles, Major." + +"I am content." + +The shepherd undid the cord that connected the bound hands of Hall and +Segador and, because their hands were still tied behind their backs, he +helped them mount the donkeys. He and the Notary climbed into the wooden +saddles of their small horses, fastening the donkeys' leads to their +pommels. + +Segador smiled at Hall, whose donkey was being led by the shepherd. +"Wonderful," he said. "Sancho leads the noble Don home from an encounter +with the sheep." + +"Please, gentlemen," Bustamente the Notary said, sharply, "you are not +to address one another. Justice begins in the village, and +justice"--again he aped Don Anibal's gesture--"and justice will be +done." + +"We bow to your authority in matters of justice," Segador said, gravely. + +He and Hall sat in silence as the convoy cut across a meadow on the +slope and turned toward the outlines of a larger village in the valley. +They jogged toward the dim yellow lights of Puente Bajo, the shepherd +piercing the night quiet with the curses he flung at the heads of the +donkeys every time they balked. + +At the outskirts of the town, Bustamente the Notary ordered a halt. "I +have been thinking," he said. "It is my feeling that if the two on the +donkeys are of the Republic and innocent, then we will have committed an +offense against their sacred dignity if we lead them into Puente Bajo +fettered on mangy donkeys. I have therefore come to the conclusion that +perhaps it would be better for me to ride on alone to the school and +bring the teacher back to meet us here, by the road." + +"I can agree," the shepherd said. "But wait until I tether their +donkeys." He dismounted, led the donkeys to the side of the road and +tied their forefeet to lengths of rope he fastened to a strong tree. + +"Would you want one of your own cigarettes?" he asked Hall. + +"Yes. Many thanks. And one for Major Segador, too. And please take one +for yourself." + +The shepherd declined with a serious face. "First," he said, "I must +hear what the school teacher has to say about you. He is wiser, even, +than Bustamente the Notary." + +Bustamente the Notary and the man who was acknowledged to be even of +more wisdom than he returned out of breath; the school teacher from +trotting after the short horse and the Notary from talking incessantly +to the pedagogue. The teacher was a compact mestizo in his early +twenties, a short youth with a furrowed sloping Indian forehead and +bright beady black eyes. He was wearing a pair of brown-cotton trousers, +a blue shirt without a tie, and rope-soled slippers. + +"Are you truly Major Segador?" he asked. And then, without waiting for +the answer, he turned to the shepherd and began to berate him. "You +fool," he shouted, "untie his bonds at once. Do you know that he sat in +El Moro with Don Anibal?" + +"I am without learning," the shepherd said. + +"It is all right, teacher," Segador said. "The _compañero_ did his +duty--and he did it properly. Undo my hand, Juan Antonio, so that I may +shake your hand." + +"I am sorry, _compañero_," the school teacher said to the shepherd. "I +spoke to you without thinking." + +"What is your name, teacher?" + +"I am called Pablo Artigas." He helped Hall and Segador get off the +donkeys. "I regret that you have had so much grief in our province." + +"Are you a member of the Union?" Segador asked. + +"Naturally. For three years--since I am a teacher. Before that I +belonged to the Union of Students." + +"And you have your _carnet_?" + +"Not with me, Major Segador. It is in my room at the school." + +"We will look at it. May we go with you?" + +"I will be honored." + +"Please, Your Honors," said Bustamente the Notary, "I insist that you +ride the horses. The teacher may have one of the donkeys. I shall walk." + +The shepherd reached into his sheepskin cloak. "Here are your pistols," +he said. + +Hall passed his cigarettes around. The shepherd accepted one with a shy +smile. "I am glad that you are not angry, Señor Cuban Major," he said. +"I have never had a Cuban cigarette before." + + + + +_Chapter eighteen_ + + +"Fantastic! Sheer fantasy on paper, but it's all true. All roads lead to +San Hermano. First, Lobo. Then, today, the man from Spain. Then ..." +Felipe Duarte could not sit still. He walked around Hall's room at the +Bolivar like a referee during a fast bout between flyweights. +"Ostensibly, Lobo came to represent Batista at the funeral yesterday. +Actually, he came to bring duplicates and even the originals of most of +your negatives--as well as a report on Androtten. I don't know what's in +the Androtten report yet; all I know is that the American Intelligence +Service had something on it, and they gave it to Lobo." + +"I tried to reach him on the phone." + +"He's busy, Mateo. He's closeted with Lavandero. That's not all ..." + +"I know, the de Sola affidavit. I'll have to tell you about Havana, +Felipe. And about the all-night march to Cerrorico through the woods +with Segador and the school teacher and the Notary's mules." _Mateo, eh +Mateo, what did you see in the shepherd's hut? Tabio's picture? All I +could see was poverty, Mateo._ + +"Hey, you're not listening? What are you thinking of?" + +Hall put his shaving brush down, inserted a fresh blade in his razor. "A +thousand things. Cerrorico. The mining stronghold. Segador said the +communists had a good press and that they were reliable. He wasn't +kidding. They must have run off a million leaflets with reproductions of +the Ansaldo pictures and the Havana documents by the time I left." +Later, he would tell Duarte about the ride from Cerrorico in the engine +cab of an ore train, and hopping off at dawn at the Monte Azul station, +and being met by a Pepe Delgado who wore a freshly washed and +ill-fitting reservist's uniform and drove a small army lorry. Segador +had gone ahead on an earlier train. + +"You should have seen the leaflets yesterday, Mateo. Just as the funeral +procession was at its greatest the army planes appeared overhead and +started to drop the leaflets by the ton. And an hour after the leaflets +fell from the skies, the pro-United Nations papers were all over the +country with front-page reproductions of the pictures and the +documents." + +"And all that time I was sleeping on an ore train. Who is this man from +Spain you mentioned, Felipe?" + +"It is fantastic! After Mogrado got my message, he rounded up two +Spanish Army surgeons who knew Ansaldo. They made affidavits, too. That +isn't the half of what Mogrado did. He reached the Spanish underground +in Spain via a cable to Lisbon. And this morning the Clipper came in +from Lisbon, and what do you think?" + +"I can't think. But don't tell me it's fantastic, Felipe." + +"But it is fantastic. There is a man on board the plane, a typical +_señorito_. He has papers with him that say he is a Spanish diplomat. +The minute he steps ashore, a mug from the Spanish Embassy recognizes +him. 'He is a fraud, a _rojo_, a defiler of nuns and an arsonist of +cathedrals!' he shrieks. It's fantastic! The man with the papers lifts a +heavy fist and he lets fly with a blow that knocks out the fascist's +front teeth. 'Baby killer!' he hollers, and then he turns around to the +airport officials and he says he is a Mexican citizen who used fake +papers to escape from Spain and he demands that they take him under +guard to the Mexican Embassy. In the meanwhile he says they'll have to +kill him if they want to take his papers before he is delivered in +person to the Mexican Embassy. Is it fantastic, Mateo?" + +"For God's sake stop telling me that!" + +"But it is fantastic! He makes them drive him to the Mexican Embassy, +and the Spanish official is screaming like a stuck pig that the man is a +Spanish citizen and an agent of the Comintern." + +"Who is he?" + +"He is a Spaniard, of course. The underground sent him. They had cadres +in the office of the Falange National Delegation. They took out the +Falange party records of Ansaldo and Marina, put them under a camera, +and sent the pictures to San Hermano with this agent. It was a farce. I +was in the next room, listening to him as he told the Ambassador that +his name was Joaquin Bolivar. Then I walked in, the sweet light of +recognition on my ugly face, shouting 'Joaquin! My old University pal, +Joaquin! Don't you recognize your old Felipe Duarte?' The Ambassador +just watches me. The man's papers are still in a sealed envelope before +him. + +"It is enough for him. He slams his hands down on the papers and says he +claims them in the name of his government. 'I will take the +responsibility for Señor Bolivar,' he says. 'I have reason to believe he +is a Mexican national.' I ask you, Mateo--is it fantastic?" + +"No. It's just efficient. Where is he now?" + +"The Ambassador took him and his papers to see Lavandero. He's giving a +deposition and an interview to the press." + +"I ought to take in the interview." + +"No. Stay away. Segador thinks it will be wiser if you stay away. But +that isn't all. Do you remember the picture of Ansaldo that started you +off on your wild-goose chase?" + +"Vaguely. What about it?" + +"There is a doctor in the Institute of Tropical Medicine in Puerto Rico. +He is the head of the pro-Loyalist Spanish society on the island ..." + +"Ramon Toro?" + +"Toro. You know him? Well, he must be a man worth knowing. He has a +collection of _Avance_--that was the Falange organ in San Juan, starting +with issue number one. When he sees the picture of Gamburdo embracing +Ansaldo--it was on the front page of _El Mundo_ in San Juan--a bell +rings in his head. He starts going through his _Avances_, and what do +you think? He finds the picture you were looking for in an August issue. +So he rips open his suitcase, pastes the whole issue of _Avance_ between +the linings, and arrives at the San Hermano airport last night. He +doesn't stop. He takes his bag straight to the editor of _La +Democracia_, empties it of his clothes, and pulls out the ..." + +"Christ! Toro had it all the time!" + +"It's on the front page of _La Democracia_ this morning. I was in such a +rush to get here that I left it in my office. I tell you, all roads lead +to San Hermano. Every time I hear a plane overhead, I think, aha! more +anonymous Republicans and underground agents and Cuban generals are +coming in with more documents. It's fantastic!" + +"Did anyone else turn up?" Hall was feeling better than he had in years. +He was one of many now, he knew, one of an army who marched in uniform, +out of uniform, but an army which knew the enemy and knew how to fight +him. Mogrado, Fielding, Duarte, Segador, Rafael, Pepe, Vicente, +Iglesias, even poor Rivas for all his cringing and breast-beating--the +army was strong, and it was growing stronger with the taste of victory. +That was all that mattered, now. + +"I guess that's the beginning of the end for the Falange," he said. + +"The hell it is, Mateo." Duarte was coming down to earth. "It will be a +long row to hoe. Your State Department has been distributing judicious +hints that a unilateral policy toward Franco will upset the apple cart. +They're after an all-Hemisphere policy toward Spain. All that this means +is that none of the countries, except my own, will dare to break with +Franco until Washington takes the lead. Not even this one." + +"You're crazy." + +"I'm a diplomat, Mateo. Mark my words." + +"I hope you have to eat those words by the end of the week." Hall doused +his face with bay rum, patted it with a towel. "When did they call the +troops up? Pepe started to tell me about it when he drove me over last +night, but I fell asleep as soon as he got started." + +"Three days ago, Mateo. There was a meeting of the Student Council to +Aid the United Nations at the University. The hall was packed. Then the +Cross and Sword gunmen stormed the entrances and fired point blank into +the crowd. There were over fifteen deaths, and so many injured that the +University authorities established an emergency hospital in five lecture +rooms. Your Jerry has been there since. The commanding general of this +area is loyal to the Republic; he called up the reserves." + +"What about Jerry? I've been trying to reach her all morning." + +"She is wonderful. All the patients are trying to teach her Spanish." + +"What are we waiting for? Let's go to the University." + +"Not me. I've got to go back to the Embassy. Lobo says he can meet us +both for lunch at the Embassy." + +"I'll make it. Let's go. Oh, one more thing. I put through some calls to +New York. And some are coming in. I gave your office as one of the +places I could be reached." + +"Don't be late." + + * * * * * + +Jerry could spend only a few minutes with Hall on the University steps. +"Gonzales told me that you were safe," she said. "And also what you +accomplished. I'm proud of you, Matt." + +"I worried about you," he said. "Were you scared when you found yourself +in a war zone?" + +"No. Just angry. Maria Luisa was at the meeting when the shooting +started. She wasn't hurt, thank God, but she was a bloody mess when she +got home. Gonzales and I left for the University at once. I've been +here, since. We've had four deaths to date." + +"When can you get away?" + +"Not till dinner time. But things are easing up. We've been able to +transfer more than half of our cases to the hospitals." + +"The Bolivar at eight." + +He took a cab to the Mexican Embassy. The driver was beaming as he shut +the door. He told Hall that the early returns were overwhelmingly in +favor of Lavandero. "Yes, señor," he laughed, "the fascists are on the +run today. The lines formed outside of the polling places three and even +four hours before they opened. Did you see what fell from the planes +yesterday? Did you see the papers? Those dirty fascists!" + +Duarte had figures to back up the cab driver's story when Hall reached +the Mexican Embassy. "It is a wonderful victory, Mateo," he said. "The +tide is running so strongly that Gamburdo is expected to concede the +election before the polls close at five." + +"The bastard! Where's Lobo?" + +"He'll be here in a minute. Let me show you some of the leaflets. I'll +bet you haven't seen one yet." + +The leaflet was the size of a standard newspaper page, printed on both +sides. There was the large picture of Gamburdo embracing Ansaldo smack +up against the shot of Ansaldo, in fascist uniform, giving the fascist +salute along with the Nazi and the Italian officers. Most of the Falange +documents proving the Axis ties of Gamburdo and the Cross and Sword were +also reproduced on the single sheet. + +"It turned the election," Duarte said. "Until yesterday, the fascists +were spreading the story that Lavandero had kept Ansaldo from operating +in time. Gamburdo was so anxious to grab the credit for Ansaldo that he +dug his own grave." + +"He's not in the grave, yet." + +"Be patient." + +Lobo walked into the office. He was wearing his regulation tan uniform. +"Mateo," he shouted, "you're a fraud! I heard you were wearing a Cuban +officer's uniform." + +"It's in shreds, Jaime." + +Lobo eased his long frame into Duarte's favorite chair. "I thought you'd +never gotten through," he said. "After the second day of silence I was +sure the fascists had clipped your wings. Don't bother to tell me about +your hardships, though. I've already seen Segador." + +"Everyone has seen Segador," Hall laughed. "Everyone but me. When the +hell do I see him?" + +"He's very busy, my friend. He's responsible to a government, you know, +not to himself, like you." + +"_Mierda!_" + +"That reminds me. There's an American officer in town. From Miami." + +"Intelligence?" + +"Naturally. He's a very nice guy, Mateo. The American Ambassador's +daughter here told him that you are an agent of the Comintern. He told +me that he knew she was crazy. He asked me to tell you that he's a +straight-shooter and he wants to speak to you. In a friendly way, of +course. Name's Barrows. A lieutenant-colonel. Know him?" + +"No. What about Androtten?" + +"What about Barrows, first? If I were you, I'd give him a ring. He's at +the American Embassy." + +"All right. Shall I ask him to lunch with us?" + +Barrows was not free for lunch. He arranged to meet Hall at Duarte's +office at three. "He sounds human," Hall admitted. + +During their luncheon, Lobo told Hall and Duarte what he had learned +about Androtten from the American Government. The man was a German named +Schmidt or Wincklemann (he had used passports in both names) who had a +record as a German agent which went back to 1915. He had spent some time +in Java, some years in Spanish Morocco, and the year of 1935 living in a +villa at Estoril, the beach resort outside of Lisbon. "The record +doesn't say what he was doing in Portugal," Lobo said. "My guess is that +he was working with Sanjurjo." + +"I'd back you on that," Hall said. "The old rumhound needed someone to +hold his hand before the war." + +"There are blank spaces in the record after that," Lobo said. "The next +entry is the spring of 1938, when your Androtten was known as +Wincklemann. He turned up in Rome as an art dealer specializing in +Spanish masterpieces. He sold two Goyas and a Velasquez to three rich +ladies in the British colony; told them the paintings were from the +private collections of Spanish noblemen who had been ruined by the +_rojos_. He was lying, of course--the paintings had all been taken from +Spanish museums by the Nazis. Wincklemann disappeared, and the ladies +finally sold the paintings back to the Franco government in 1940 for the +same price. The last mention of Wincklemann or Schmidt is a paragraph +from a letter mailed to Washington from Mexico in July, 1941. The letter +was from the junta of Dominican opposition leaders and mentioned a +Gunther Wincklemann as one of four Nazi agents who had been guests of +Trujillo in the Dominican capital that month." + + * * * * * + +Hall borrowed an empty office in the Mexican Embassy for his appointment +with the American officer. It went off well. Barrows was a +plain-speaking man in his early forties, with the handshake of a young +and vigorous boiler maker. He had a nice, unhurried way about him, his +frosty blue eyes surveying Hall with good humor while he fussed with his +thick-walled pipe. "I'd heard all sorts of conflicting stories about +you," he said, smiling at the conflicts. + +"I can imagine," Hall said. + +"I wish I could tell you half of them." + +"I know the Ambassador's half. Heard it in Havana." + +Barrows snorted. "Have you a match that lights?" he asked. "I've been +trying to get this pipe started for days." He refused a cigar. It was a +match that he wanted. Hall had a lighter whose flame burned long enough +to light the pipe. "There now," he said, "now we can talk. I know that +you heard about the Ambassador's report. If it will make you feel any +better, Skidmore got his tail singed for it." He was highly amused. + +"Good." Hall was warming up to Barrows. "I hate stuffed shirts." + +"So do I. But frankly, Hall, I'd like to drop the subject. I--I need +your advice. Unofficially, of course. But I need it. It's about the +reports that the late Roger Fielding made to the British Embassy. You +saw them, I understand." + +"Only once. A few nights before he was killed." + +"That's what I was told. Commander New in the British Embassy told me. +He's not exactly up on the San Hermano scene yet, you know. He thinks +that after the job you and Lobo did in Havana that he ought to turn the +originals of the Fielding reports over to the government. What he +doesn't know is who to hand them to. He wants to know who will use them +and who will burn them. He thought that since you were an American, he'd +ask me to get your slant on it." + +"I get it," Hall said. "You want one guy who is certain to be an +anti-fascist. Someone who will know just how to use the information." + +"Exactly. I don't suppose I have to tell you, Hall, that the enemy has +been sinking our shipping in the South Atlantic and the Caribbean at a +rate that spells one hell of a long war. I know, as you do, that +Falangist Spaniards on shore are working with the Nazi undersea raiders. +But even if we wanted to, we couldn't send enough Marines to South +America to root 'em out. We've got to rely on the local governments to +do the job." + +"Yeah." Hall was bitter. "We want this Republic to root out the +Falangists, so we send an Ambassador who plays footy with the Falangists +in public and calls the anti-Falangist President a dirty Red." + +"You're carping, Hall." + +"All right. I'm carping. I'm a taxpayer, it's my prerogative to carp. We +want the Latin American Republics to get tough with the Franquists who +are helping the Nazis sink our ships, so we sell the Spanish fascists +the oil they transfer to the Nazi subs, and we send an Ambassador to +Madrid whose only exercise is kissing Franco's foot in public every +Sunday morning, and when any of our sister Republics want to break with +Franco we dispatch a sanctimonious buzzard in striped pants from the +State Department and he tells them to lay off Franco, Spain's Saviour +from Atheism and Communism. How in the hell can we expect the Latin +Republics to crack down on Franco's stooges at home when we ourselves +play up to Franco in Madrid?" + +"Let's have that lighter again." Barrows was cool and unruffled, the +smile that danced across the smooth lines of his face never wavered. +"I'm a soldier," he said, pleasantly. "I can't discuss policy. I can +only talk tactics. You know that, Hall. Tactics is the art of working +with an existent situation and licking it--not waiting for the +millennium. You think our policy toward Franco Spain should be changed. +Maybe you're right. Maybe it will be changed. But, in the meanwhile, +Franquists in Latin America, in this country specifically, are putting +the finger on our ships. Fielding's reports might be accurate. If we are +to act on them, we need the help of pro-Allied members of this +government. Who is our man?" + +"There is one man in these parts who can be trusted completely to do the +right things with those reports," Hall answered. "Give him the reports, +and after the polls close he'll be in a position to round up every +fascist Fielding listed and put them on ice for the duration. He's an +army man--Major Diego Segador." + +"And you think he's our man, eh? Would you mind writing his name in my +book, and the best place to reach him?" + +Hall carefully printed the information Barrows wanted and then, as he +returned the book, he said, deliberately, "But there's one thing you +should know about Segador. He's everything I said he is, and more. But +he's also a leftist. He's very close to the Communist Party." + +"So what?" Barrows said, casually. "The Russians are killing plenty of +Germans, and I understand their chief is a member of the party, too. Man +named Stalin, or something like that." + +"Do you mind if I call you unique?" + +"Not at all. But let me ask one. What are you planning to do for the +duration? Ever think of G-2?" + +"Yeah. I applied before Pearl Harbor. They turned me down so hard I +thought I was hit by a truck. I applied again on December 8th, 1941. It +was still no soap. I was for the Loyalists in Spain, you know. That made +me what the brass hats term a 'premature anti-fascist' and definitely +not officer material." + +"I didn't know about that," Barrows said. "What would you do if the door +was opened for you now? Understand, I'm not making an offer. I'm just +asking." + +"I don't know," Hall said. "I don't think the door would be opened. If +it was--I'd have to think about it." + +"May I have your lighter again?" + +Hall watched Barrows make a major operation of relighting his pipe, and +recognized it as the officer's neat device for creating a break in a +conversation that needed breaking. Barrows had a way of making the +ritual of lighting his pipe serve as the curtain that falls on a given +scene of a play. + +"The Ambassador," Barrows smiled. "He's been tearing his nice white hair +since you got back from Havana. You put him on an awful spot, you know." + +"It'll do him good, the old bastard. Do you know what Tabio told me +about him a few days before he died? He said that he was with Skidmore +at a dinner a few days after Germany invaded Russia and that Skidmore +said he was glad that now the Russians would get what was coming to +them." + +"Not really?" + +"Lavandero was there. He'll back me up." Hall stopped. "Say, I have an +idea," he said. "There's one thing I can do for G-2. I can write a +report on Skidmore. I'll do it right after the elections." + +"Oh-oh! It'll mean trouble with the Spats Department." + +"Spats?" + +"State. But you make your report, and give it to me. I'll turn it in +with the rest of my stuff when I get back. Why not? You're a civilian. +The worst that can happen to you after you write the report is that +you'll have trouble getting passports and visas." + +"I don't give a damn," Hall said. "And I'll do something else. You gave +me an idea. I'm still a civilian, you said. Swell, then I won't be +climbing over anyone's brass hat if I see to it that a copy of the +report reaches the White House." + +Barrows leaned back in his chair, laughing. "He told me that you +threatened to do just that," he said. "But he's just a harmless old +duffer, Hall. He told me he wanted to shake your hand." + +"He can shove it. Did you meet his daughter?" + +"Once. She doesn't like you." + +"Ever receive any reports in Miami about her?" + +"You know I can't answer that question, Hall." + +"O.K. That means--oh, I guess it means that you got reports that she +sleeps around plenty. But her political life is more important to G-2 +than her sex didoes." + +"Gossip?" + +"Fact. She's secretly engaged to be married to the man who killed +Fielding. The Marques de Runa. But don't worry--he'll never be brought +to trial for it. He's in Spain. Left by Clipper over a week ago with his +chauffeur, the man who actually ran poor Fielding down." + +The officer from Miami laid his pipe down on the desk. "This is pretty +serious," he said. "I don't want to get it all by ear, old man. Would +you mind talking while it was taken down? Not only about Margaret +Skidmore. About everything you can give your Uncle about the Falange? +Facts, names, addresses, opinions--the works. I brought a young +lieutenant with me from Miami; he was a crack stenographer in civilian +life. How about spending a few hours with us?" + +"Sure. I can give you the rest of the day, if you like." + +"I'd like it fine. But if you don't mind--not here." + +"O.K. Dr. Gonzales' house. It's on the outskirts of the city, and we'd +be alone." + + * * * * * + +Hall spent the rest of the day at Gonzales', dictating to the +lieutenant. While they worked, Duarte phoned to tell him that Gamburdo +had formally conceded the election. "What are your dinner plans?" he +asked the Mexican. + +"None. I have to finish a long report on the elections before I eat. +Where and when are you eating?" + +"I don't know. I thought that for sentimental reasons I'd eat with Jerry +and Pepe and Vicente and Souza at the Bolivar. Lobo is tied up for the +evening." + +"I'll join you when I can, Mateo." + +Later, when the American officers left, Hall tried to reach his friends +by phone. Arturo, the desk clerk, told him that Souza had taken the day +off and that Pepe and Vicente had been called up with the reserves. He +gave Hall a list of numbers where he might possibly find Pepe. Hall +finally reached him at the Transport Workers' Union. "Can you eat with +me tonight?" he asked. + +"Yes. Where are you? Our officers just handed us our new orders. I am to +be your driver and Emilio your guard." + +"What?" + +"Sergeants Delgado and Vicente at your orders, sir." + +"Is this official?" + +Pepe laughed heartily. "Official," he said. "We can show you our +orders." + +"I am at Gonzales'. Can you pick me up now?" + +"At once." + +The sergeants were there in fifteen minutes. Pepe now drove an Army car +whose color matched his uniform. They drove to the University for Jerry. + +Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling the city, guarding both the Axis +diplomatic buildings and the commercial houses owned by known fascists. +The streets were crowded with civilians. They hung around the cafés, +listening to the latest election bulletins over the café radios, or they +congregated under the government's loud speakers in the plazas and the +broad avenues. Even though Gamburdo had already conceded his defeat, the +people awaited the results of each new count, cheered each new electoral +repudiation of the Falange candidate. Everywhere the sidewalks, the +gutters, the doorways of stores and buildings were littered with whole +or tattered copies of the leaflets exposing Gamburdo and Ansaldo. + +"We gave them a licking they won't forget so quickly," Pepe chortled. + +"Yes, but they are still alive, Pepe. They took a licking in the last +Spanish elections, too." + +"_De nada_," Vicente said, grimly. "Let them try to make a second +Spanish War in our Republic. We'll drown them in their own blood." + +Jerry was waiting for them on the University steps. "Matt, it was +amazing. Translate for me, will you? I think Pepe and Vicente would like +to know, too. As soon as the word was flashed to the wards that +Lavandero won the election, the serious cases started to pull through, +and the others are just about ready to dance. I've never seen anything +like it!" + +Duarte joined them as they were finishing their soup. He was pale and +upset. "The Axis got the news pretty quickly," he said. He picked up a +bottle of brandy, poured a half tumbler and downed it in a gulp. + +"For Christ's sake, what happened, Felipe?" + +"The Nazis," he said. "This afternoon, a few minutes after Gamburdo +quit, a Nazi submarine deliberately sank one of the Republic's unarmed +freighters. It happened less than thirty miles from where we're sitting. +That isn't all. The ship had time to wireless for help before she sank. +And the Nazis waited until the rescue boats had picked up the survivors +before they surfaced again and sank each of the boats with their deck +guns." + +"When did you find out?" + +"Hours ago. I kept quiet because I wanted to make sure about Souza. Now +it's been confirmed. He was on one of the rescue boats. He is dead." + +"Why, the dirty ..." + +"Wait, Mateo. There is something else. Don't go. You had a call from +Radio City in New York. They want you to broadcast to America at ten +o'clock tonight. The Siglo station has the hook-up here." + +The clock on the Bolivar dining-room wall read eight-thirty. "I'd better +go right over," Hall said. "Eat and wait for me here, Felipe. Don't +bother to drive me, Pepe. I'll walk. It's less than two blocks. Have +some more brandy." + +"I'm going with you," Jerry said. + + * * * * * + +"_Come in, San Hermano ..._" Over the long-wave from Radio City. + +The station announcer gave Hall his signal. Hall mopped his face with +his sleeve, glanced at his notes. "For a few hours this afternoon here +in San Hermano," he said into the microphone, "most of us believed that +virtue is its own reward, that the truth by itself is the most powerful +weapon in the hands of a democracy. + +"At three o'clock this afternoon, the fascist candidate for the +presidency of this Republic conceded defeat in an election marked by the +dramatic revelation of his ties with the Falange in Madrid and the Nazis +in Berlin. There was no bloodshed, no disturbances. Democracy had scored +a bloodless victory in San Hermano. + +"For thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds, the elections remained a +triumph for the ideals of the late president, Anibal Tabio, a man in the +traditions of our own Abraham Lincoln. It was Tabio's life-long belief +that 'Ye shall know the truth and it shall make you free.' But Tabio, +like the leaders of the last Spanish Republic, placed too much faith in +the power of good and decency and progress and had too little fear of +the fascist powers of evil abroad in this world. + +"At exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds after the fascist +Gamburdo conceded the elections to his Popular-Front opponent, the +people of this Republic learned that the world has grown much smaller +since Lincoln declared that no nation could exist half slave and half +free. Today what Lincoln had to say about one nation goes for one world. +This one world, our one world, is now torn by a global war. It is a +total war. The people of this democracy struck at the Axis today by +overwhelmingly defeating the Axis candidate at the polls. It took the +Axis exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds to answer the +democratic people of this free nation. The answer was delivered by the +torpedoes and deck guns of a Nazi submarine lurking thirty miles from +the docks of this port...." + +He talked on, glancing at the station clock frequently. There was a lot +he wanted to cram into his fifteen minutes. If possible, he hoped, he +would be able to get in a few words about the big feature story on the +front page of the bulldog edition of _El Imparcial_. + +It was a long and lachrymose account of how Mexico was suffering because +the food of the nation was being rushed to the American armed forces and +how the war had forced inflation and shortages on that suffering +Catholic country whose people had no quarrel with Hitler and no love for +the Godless Stalin. + +The red sweep-second hand raced Hall through his account of this story. +"It is no accident that this piece of Axis propaganda should be featured +on page one of the nation's leading pro-Franco paper tomorrow," he said. +"This is the Falange line for Latin America. This is the unnecessary +acid the Axis is preparing to inject into the very real wounds Latin +America is suffering and will suffer from this total war." + +The announcer standing at the other microphone drew his hand in front of +his own throat. Hall's time was up. + +Jerry rushed into the studio from the anteroom, where she had been +listening to the talk over the studio radio. She kissed him, took his +hand as they went downstairs and into the narrow street which led to the +Plaza de la Republica. "Where do we go from here, Matt?" she asked. + +"God alone knows. Let's get married tomorrow. That's one thing we'd +better do while we still have a chance. I used to think I belonged in +the army. The army doctors rejected me for combat service; I'm too +banged up. Twice I tried to get into Intelligence, the first time before +Pearl Harbor. They wouldn't touch me with a fork. Saturday, Colonel +Barrows hinted that they were less squeamish about accepting +anti-fascists into G-2. He hinted that maybe I could get an Intelligence +commission." + +"I'll go in as a nurse if they accept you, Matt." + +"That's a big _if_, baby. But if they don't, we can go on fighting the +fascists in our own way. We won't get Legion pins and ribbons and +bonuses after it's all over, and the only uniforms we'll ever get to +wear will be decoy outfits like the one I wore when I left Havana. But +the fight will be the same, and the enemy will be the same. And we won't +have to worry about getting stuck on an inactive front. We can pick our +fronts. + +"When it's all over, we'll go to Spain and we'll spit on Franco's grave +and I'll show you where a great man named Antin died and where a kid +lieutenant named Rafael killed fourteen fascists with one gun and we'll +walk down the Puerta del Sol in Madrid with the most wonderful people +I've ever known--what's left of them--and we'll dandle black-eyed +Spanish kids on our knees until our guts begin to ache for kids of our +own and then we'll make a kid of our own and fly back so he'll be born +in Ohio like his folks and grow up to be a good anti-fascist President +or at least an intelligent American Ambassador to San Hermano. Ah, I'm +talking like a fool, baby, talking like a drunk in a swank bar off +Sutton Place." + +The loud speakers on the lamp posts of the Plaza suddenly came alive. + +"Attention, everyone! Attention!" + +"Wait," Matt said. "Something's up." + +"Attention! This is the Mayor of San Hermano speaking. Eduardo Gamburdo, +wanted for the murder of Anibal Tabio, has fled the country. The Cabinet +and a quorum of the legislature, meeting at six o'clock tonight, have +unanimously voted that President-Elect Esteban Lavandero should be sworn +in as President immediately. At ten o'clock tonight, President Lavandero +took his oath of office from the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court in +the Presidencia. I will repeat this announcement. Attention...." + +Hall translated the announcement. "Now Lavandero has been introduced. +I'll translate as he goes along." + +"Citizens, members of the Popular Front parties, members of all +parties," Lavandero began. "This afternoon, at three thirty-five +o'clock, a submarine which has been positively identified as being of +German nationality torpedoed a ship bearing the flag of our Republic +within our national waters. The ship was sunk. The survivors and the men +on the boats which set out from shore to rescue them were shelled by +this submarine. The losses have been enormous. At the last official +count, we had lost over eighty citizens, all victims of fascist +bestiality. + +"Tomorrow, I shall go before the Congress and speak for a declaration of +war against the Axis. Tonight, my first official act has been to promote +Major Diego Segador to the rank of Colonel for outstanding services to +our Republic, and to appoint him Emergency Chief of the Defense of San +Hermano. I have asked Colonel Segador to speak to you now." + +Hall put his arm around Jerry. "The war has come to us," he said. "We +don't have to look for it any longer." + +"Citizens," Segador said. "Our city is in sight of a wolfpack of Nazi +submarines of undetermined size. The lights of our city are therefore at +the service of the fascist enemy. If you are on the streets, go into +your houses, or into the nearest cafés or other buildings. If you are +indoors, put out your lights, wherever you are. In five minutes, the +street lights of the city will be turned off. This announcement is being +recorded, and will be repeated for the next thirty minutes, or as long +as one light remains lit in San Hermano. Our lights are the eyes of the +submarines--we must blind their evil eyes. + +"Soldiers on duty, remain at your posts and await further orders. +Soldiers off duty, report at once to your commanding officer. Sailors +off shore ..." + +They stood together, watching the people hurry off the streets, watching +the lights go out in the lamp posts, in the cafés, in the houses of the +old Plaza. They remained near the loud speaker, listening to the +announcement repeated, listening to the national anthem, listening, +finally, to the dark silences of the night. They remained frozen to the +cobbles of the Plaza de la Republica which had been born in the days of +the empire as the Plaza de Fernando e Isabel and whose cobbles bore the +shadows of the edifices of the Conquistador generations and the Segura +generations and the democratic decade. Monuments of all manners of life +rose in dark, brooding piles on all sides of the Plaza; the slave life +and the life that was half slave and half free and the free life which +now had to fight for its freedom. In the dark Plaza, they could almost +hear the young heart of the city, of the Republic, beating slowly, +steadily, confidently. + +"Darling," she said, "I'm not afraid of anything any more. I'll never be +afraid again." + +"I know," he answered. "That's what this war is about, baby. It's the +war of the people who are not afraid to live their own lives. Let's go +back to the Bolivar, baby. Pepe and Vicente are still expecting us." + +Pepe and Vicente were sitting in their lorry, waiting for them. + +"_Compañeros_," Pepe said, "Duarte is waiting for you inside. You will +all have to stay at the hotel tonight." + +"That's all right, Pepe." + +"We have to go back to our barracks," Vicente said. "We are called." + +"Yes, _compañeros_," Pepe said. His uniform looked less strange on him +in the blackout. "We cracked the thick skull of the Falange today, +_compañeros_, but the black heart is still pumping." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE ARROWS*** + + +******* This file should be named 35904-8.txt or 35904-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/9/0/35904 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Five Arrows</p> +<p>Author: Allan Chase</p> +<p>Release Date: April 19, 2011 [eBook #35904]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE ARROWS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<h4>Transcriber's Note: Extensive research indicates the copyright on this +book was not renewed.</h4> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE FIVE ARROWS</h1> + +<h2>BY ALLAN CHASE</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>RANDOM HOUSE - NEW YORK</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#Chapter_one">Chapter one</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_two">Chapter two</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_three">Chapter three</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_four">Chapter four</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_five">Chapter five</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_six">Chapter six</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_seven">Chapter seven</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_eight">Chapter eight</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_nine">Chapter nine</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_ten">Chapter ten</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_eleven">Chapter eleven</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_twelve">Chapter twelve</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_thirteen">Chapter thirteen</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_fourteen">Chapter fourteen</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_fifteen">Chapter fifteen</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_sixteen">Chapter sixteen</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_seventeen">Chapter seventeen</a><br /> +<a href="#Chapter_eighteen">Chapter eighteen</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FIVE ARROWS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_one" id="Chapter_one"></a><i>Chapter one</i></h2> + + +<p>The governor's wife pointed across the bay to a speck in the black sky. +Ground lights in Catanzas were focusing their blue shafts on the speck, +moving as the plane moved, one light trying to lead the ship.</p> + +<p>A thin stream of glowing red and orange tracer bullets soared up at the +plane from the Catanzas side of the bay. A moment passed before the +Governor's guests on the terrace of La Fortaleza could hear the muffled +thud-thud of the distant ground batteries. Someone, the wife of a +visiting government official, exclaimed, "My goodness, I've only seen +this in the newsreels before!"</p> + +<p>Now the plane veered, slowly, and the lights from the San Juan side +joined the Catanzas batteries in pinning the plane to the dark clouds. +The sleeve target fastened to the tail of the plane could now be seen +from the terrace. Most of the Governor's guests gasped as the first +bright jets of tracers missed the silver sleeve and sailed into the +black void above it. The ack-ack batteries were speaking with more +harshness now; one of them, planted between two brick buildings, added +crashing echoes to their own reports as the guns went off.</p> + +<p>The bombing of Pearl Harbor was still very much a topic of conversation +on the island; the submarine nets in the bay were joked about at the +dinner table, but the jokes arose from a profound sense of gratitude for +the nets, the planes, the ships which were the island's defenses against +the undersea raiders that stalked the sea lanes between the ports of the +mainland and San Juan.</p> + +<p>The plane shifted course again, now headed directly toward La Fortaleza. +Through the increasing din of the ground guns, the Governor's young +military aide, Lieutenant Braga, could barely hear the ring of the +telephone nearest the terrace. He took the call, then returned to the +terrace and tapped one of the guests on the shoulder. "It's for you, Mr. +Hall," he said. "It's Tom Harris at Panair."</p> + +<p>Matthew Hall stood up quietly and walked into the cavernous reception +room. He walked carefully, with the steel-spring tread of a man who +seems to expect the floor to blow up under him at any moment. For +thirty-three years Matthew Hall had walked as other men. Since he was +not conscious of his new walk, he could not say when it had become part +of him. His friends had first noticed it in Paris, in '39, but had +expected it to wear off as soon as the prison pallor disappeared. The +pallor had gone; the walk remained.</p> + +<p>Hall's head and shoulders and hands were part of this walk. He moved +with his head forward and his shoulders hunched, with his hands slightly +cocked, almost like a fighter slowly advancing to mid-ring. The +shoulders were broad and thick, so broad that although Hall was of more +than average height they made him appear shorter and chunky.</p> + +<p>The face of Matthew Hall had changed, too, with his walk. There were the +obvious changes: the deep channel of a scar on his broad forehead, the +smaller one on his right jaw. The nose had changed twice, the first time +in 1938 when it was broken in San Sebastian. It had swelled enormously +and then knit badly and nearly two years later a New York surgeon had +done an expensive job of rebreaking and resetting the nose. Some bones +had been taken out and the once classic lines were now slightly +flattened. The scars and the dented nose blended strangely well with the +jaws that had always been a bit too long and the soft brown poet's eyes +which had so often betrayed Hall. With his eyes, Hall spoke his +contempt, his anger, his amusement, his joy. The eyes unerringly spoke +his inner feelings; they were always beyond his control.</p> + +<p>Changes more subtle than the scars and the flattened nose had come over +Hall's face within the past few years. It now had a queer, angry cast. +His lips seemed to be set in a new and almost permanent grimace of +bitterness. Also the right side of his face, the cheek and the mouth, +had a way of twitching painfully when Hall was bothered and upset. And +yet, as Governor Dickenson had already noted, Hall was not a completely +embittered man. More often than not, his eyes would light up with a look +of amused irony, the look of a man much moved by an immense private joke +he would be glad to share with his friends if he but knew how to tell it +properly.</p> + +<p>When Hall had risen to leave the terrace, the Governor noticed that his +cheek was twitching, but once he was alone in the reception room, away +from the sight of the tracers and the target plane, Hall's face grew +calm again. He sat down in the green armchair near the phone, picked up +the receiver. "Yes, Tom," he said, "any luck?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. I busted open a seat for you on the San Hermano plane for +tomorrow at six."</p> + +<p>"Was it much trouble, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Not much." Tom Harris laughed. "We had to throw Giselle Prescott off to +make room for you. Know her?"</p> + +<p>"God, no! But thanks a lot."</p> + +<p>"I'll pick you up in the morning then. Good night, Matt."</p> + +<p>Hall put the receiver back on the cradle. He sat back in the soft chair, +oblivious of the crashing guns, the hum of the plane's engines, the +others on the terrace. Only one thing was in his mind now—San Hermano.</p> + +<p>It was some time before the young Puerto Rican lieutenant slipped +gingerly into the room. "Mr. Hall," he said, softly, "everything O.K.?"</p> + +<p>Hall smiled warmly. "My God," he asked, "you don't think the guns drove +me in here?"</p> + +<p>The officer blushed. "Fix you a drink?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Hall shook his head, drew two Havanas from his jacket. "No, thanks. +Cigar? It's from the one box I remembered to buy in Havana."</p> + +<p>The boy was a non-smoker. He lit a match for Hall, waited until the +older man relaxed with the burning cigar. Politely, he said, "I know +you've been through plenty, Mr. Hall. I'm a soldier, but if ..."</p> + +<p>"Plenty? Me?"</p> + +<p>The lieutenant nodded. "<i>The Revenger</i>," he said, hesitantly. "I—I read +your book."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that," Hall said. "<i>The Revenger</i>." So <i>The Revenger</i> was plenty!</p> + +<p>"If there's anything I can get you ..."</p> + +<p>The boy's voice seemed to come from far away and Hall realized that he +himself was staring into space and that the lieutenant must have sat +there for a full minute waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry," he said. +"I'm really sorry. I guess I just get this way once in a while."</p> + +<p>"It's my fault," Braga protested. "I should have known how hard it must +be for you to talk about—it."</p> + +<p>"<i>De nada</i>," Hall laughed. "I made a lecture tour last year and spent +five nights a week talking about it for months. It's just that +I'm—well, that I just catch myself staring at nothing at the craziest +times. Maybe I do need that drink. What's in the shaker there—Daiquiri? +Good." He poured two Daiquiris from the jar on the sideboard, handed one +to the lieutenant. "I know you don't drink, either," he said. "But I'm +having this drink to toast victory—and you're a soldier."</p> + +<p>When they touched glasses, the boy saw that amused look in Hall's eyes, +the look he had seen earlier at the dinner table when one of the +visiting officials had expressed such innocent amazement at the enormity +of his first taxi bill in San Juan. "I'd better go back out there when I +finish this drink," he said. "I'm glad nothing's wrong with you."</p> + +<p>"You're a right guy, Lieutenant. Thanks for looking in." Hall returned +to his chair as the boy walked out to the terrace. So <i>The Revenger</i> was +plenty! And the kid, how old was he? Twenty? Not a day more. Which made +him eighteen when the Nazi torpedo planes peeled off over the African +skies and then roared in to send their tin fish into the guts of His +Majesty's own <i>Revenger</i>. Which made him fourteen when the fighting +began, fourteen when the German pilot officers clicked their heels and +mouthed the new phrase "<i>Arriba España</i>" and flew the Moors from Spanish +Morocco to the mainland and touched off the shooting stages of World War +II. "<i>Ay, Teniente</i>," he muttered, "you've made me feel old as hell. +Older."</p> + +<p>Hall leaned back in his chair, tried to blow a series of smoke rings. He +thought: But I'm not old. I've just seen things and done things and had +things done to me. I'm not old at all.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>After years of anonymity in various city rooms in the States, a brief +turn as a byline correspondent in Washington, a still briefer career as +a Broadway playwright, Matthew Hall had drawn an assignment as +third-string man for the World Press in Paris. That was in 1935, when he +was crowding thirty. The job had introduced him to Europe, and carried +him to Geneva, to Belgrade, to Bucharest, to Stockholm. Paris was the +journalistic capital of the Continent; when things happened outside of +Paris, it was a Paris man who was sent to the scene to cover. There he +would find that the office had adequate coverage in the permanent man, +and if he had any curiosity or craftsman's pride he would try to get the +story behind the story. Hall had both. They led him to the strange +half-world of tipsters, hounded opposition leaders, minor officials of +ministries who would talk and produce documents for a fee, candid and +cynical free-lance agents, wise old frightened politicians who sensed +the coming catastrophe in their bones, correct and stiff Nazi advance +agents and politely lavish native fascists who mixed queer brews for +foreign correspondents. They were the <i>sources close to a key ministry, +the influential elder statesmen, the prominent industrialists whose +names cannot be used</i> who figured so prominently in the inside-Europe +dispatches of the era.</p> + +<p>July, 1936, had found Hall in Nice spending a long week-end as the guest +of a prominent refugee banker from Germany. The banker was the "inside" +prophet of the month in Parisian newspaper circles. His gospel was the +slightly shopworn one about German industry being fed up with Hitler and +willing to settle on Goering, Danzig and a few worthless colonies in +Africa as the price for eliminating the "extreme Nazis" and returning to +the family of Europe. "He's a damned Nazi himself," Hall had declared +when the invitation reached his office, but the bureau manager was +missing no bets. "I don't care what he is, Matt. He's a story. He's +news. He's what they want to read about in Washington and in London and +in Paris."</p> + +<p>Hall never wrote his story on the refugee banker (who later turned up as +a Nazi economist overlord in Denmark). On a blistering Sunday Paris had +called him by phone. Hell was popping in Madrid. The regular Madrid man +was vacationing in the States. "Get to Madrid, Matt. Looks like you'll +be busy there for a couple of weeks until it blows over."</p> + +<p>Like many of his American colleagues, Hall traveled to Madrid during +that first week of the war with the idea that in less than a month one +side or another would have been installed in power and he himself would +be back in Paris listening to the latest faker peddling the newest line +of disguised Nazism from Berlin. But Hall was an honest man. What he saw +interested and then intrigued and then enraged him. "This is no Spanish +Civil War," he wrote to the Paris office in a confidential memo sent by +courier. "This is the start of the second World War. It's the Germans +and the Italians against the Spaniards. Maybe I'm crazy, but it looks to +me like the British and the French are backing the fascists, while the +Russians are trying to help the Republicans. How about sending someone +in to cover the shooting for a week while I write a big story along +these lines?"</p> + +<p>He was answered in due time. "Stick to the military conflict between the +Nationalists and the Loyalists. And don't send us any Red propaganda."</p> + +<p>That was in October, when Caballero was preparing to quit Madrid in +panic, and the Fifth Army was calmly preparing to hold the city, +Caballero or no Caballero. Hall had long since lost his magnificent WP +objectivity. Through the open mails he sent a letter of resignation to +Paris. Antin in the Censura held the letter up, sent for Hall. The +Spaniard hemmed and hawed and cleared his throat a dozen times and then +he got up from his desk and embraced Hall and told him to sit down. +Hall's Spanish was pretty good by then, good enough for Antin to speak +to him in fluent Spanish rather than halting English. "The English I can +read with my eyes. The Spanish I speak with my heart."</p> + +<p>Was it that Hall was resigning because he loved the Republic? Yes, I +guess you could call it that. (You could also call it a good craftsman's +stubborn ideas about how to cover a war, but you didn't.) Did Hall +realize that, if he quit, an enemy of the Republic might be sent to take +his place? No, Hall didn't think. Come to think of it, though, the +office had Cavanaugh and Raney available and those two Jew-haters and +Mussolini-lovers would be no friends of the Republic. You are a friend, +a <i>compañero</i>, it is right that you know. We have so many problems with +the foreign press. McBain from New York, we know he is a spy, he has +links with the Falange. If we arrest him, the world hollers Red Terror. +So we watch him, keep all his letters, hold up his cables. Thank God he +is a drunkard; two SIM men keep him drunk most of the time. Maybe his +office will fire him. You are a friend. You write the truth. Even a +little truth by a friend whose editor chops up his cables helps the +Republic.</p> + +<p>Hall tore up his letter of resignation. When the Republic captured +thousands of Italians after Guadalajara and Bruejega, Hall filed long +stories based on interviews with the Blackshirts. When the Republic +captured Nazi Condor officers and men at Belchite, Hall sent photographs +of their documents to Paris with his stories.</p> + +<p>New York kicked, and Paris warned Hall repeatedly. Finally Paris +transferred him to the Franco side. That was at the end of '38, when the +Republicans had seen their hopes dashed at Munich and the only thing +that kept them going was the feeling that they could hold out until the +Nazi Frankenstein finally turned on London and Paris. "Then France will +have to rush arms and maybe a few divisions to us and the British fleet +will have to patrol the Mediterranean and the Russian planes, unable to +get through now, will be able to come in through France and through the +Mediterranean." Antin figured it out that way, told it to Hall the week +before some nice clean crusaders for Christianity let him have it with a +tommy gun in the back in a Barcelona café.</p> + +<p>The Falangistas were very glad to have Hall behind their lines. Their +friends pulled some wires in New York and Washington and, after two +months, Hall was fired, but by then his notebook was growing thicker and +he elected to stay as a free lance. He was seeing the face of fascism +for the first time, he wrote, and seeing it at close range. He would +stay, job or no job. He stayed, and the Gestapo in San Sebastian wrote +out an order and a rat-faced little aristocrat with an embroidered gold +yoke and arrows on his cape was studying Hall's notes and smirking like +a villain in a bad movie.</p> + +<p>There were no charges and no explanations. They just slapped Hall into a +cell in solitary, and once a day they handed him a bucket for slops and +once a day he got a chunk of bread or a thin chick-pea stew. In the +beginning he had hollered for the American consul, but the German guard +would grin and say, "<i>No entiendo Español, Ich sprech kein Englisch</i>," +and finally Hall just settled down to waiting for the end of the war.</p> + +<p>Every now and then a smooth German major would have him brought out for +questioning; that scar on his head and the scar on his chin were grim +mementos of those sessions. The Spaniards were bad but the Germans were +worse. The Italians were just hysterical. There was the day the Italian +officer made the mistake of getting too close and Hall clipped him with +a weak right hook. The Blackshirt screamed like a woman and clung to his +eye; that was when they tied him to the wall and let him have it with +the steel rods on his back.</p> + +<p>And then, in April, the Republic keeled over in its own blood and the +fascists decided to be generous to celebrate their victory. The Axis was +now openly boasting that it had run the Spanish show; the worst that +Hall could do would be to play into their hands by writing about how +tough fascism was on any man fool enough to oppose the New Order. They +were generous, they were fair. They gave him a practically new suit of +clothes, they returned his three hundred odd dollars, they even returned +his notebook with nearly all of its original notes.</p> + +<p>Hall went to Paris. He spent a week soaking in warm baths and eating and +avoiding the WP crowd. During the week he cabled a New York book +publisher he had met in Madrid in '36, when he had joined a group of +American intellectuals attending an anti-fascist congress. He offered to +turn out a book on his experiences as a correspondent and a prisoner in +Franco Spain. It was a week before he got an answer, but the answer came +with a draft of five hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>The swelling had gone down in his nose by then, but he still had to +breathe through his mouth. A doctor who'd looked at it wanted a hundred +bucks for operating, but it meant two weeks of doing nothing but getting +fixed up, and Hall hated to wait. "Later," he said, "later, when I +finish my book."</p> + +<p>He poured his notes and his guts into the book, and finished it in a +month. When he was done he borrowed some money from a friend in the +Paramount office and got a Clipper seat to New York.</p> + +<p>His publisher, Bird, liked the book and rushed it to press. He also gave +Hall another five hundred and sent him to his own doctor to have his +nose fixed up.</p> + +<p>It was a good book, perhaps good enough to justify Bird's gamble, only +it reached the critics three weeks after the Nazi panzer divisions were +ravaging Poland and the smart boys in Paris were wearing smarter +correspondents' uniforms and filing fulsome stories on the genius of +Gamelin and Weygand. "We'll have to face it, Matt," Bird said, "no one +but you and I give a damn about Spain right now. I'm taking back copies +left and right from the booksellers. No, the hell with the advances. The +war's far from over. You'll do another book for me, and we'll make it +all up."</p> + +<p>Through Bird, Hall got a job as a war correspondent for a Chicago paper. +They shipped him to London, where he stewed in his own juices for +months, and then to Cairo to join the fleet. Hall was assigned to the +<i>Revenger</i> and, when the Nazis sank her, he spent some three days on a +raft with a handful of survivors. One of them died of his wounds on the +raft, and another went raving mad and slit his own throat with the top +of a ration tin.</p> + +<p>Hall filed a story on the experience when he was brought back to Cairo, +and Bird cabled "That's your new book." It was an easy book to write. He +took a room at Shepheard's and pounded it out in three weeks. The +British censors liked it as "a tribute to British grit" and arranged for +a captain attached to a military mission bound for Washington by plane +to deliver the manuscript personally to Bird. The story was still hot +when the script reached New York. Bird sold the serial rights to a big +national weekly that same day for thirty thousand dollars. A lecture +agency cabled offering a guarantee of a fantastic sum for a three-month +lecture tour. A book club chose <i>The Revenger</i>, the critics sang its +praises, and Bird bought himself a house in the country.</p> + +<p>Hall quit his job and made the lecture tour and wound up with a fat bank +account and a permanent appreciation of the value of a chance plop in +the ocean. For the first time in his life, he found himself with enough +money to do exactly what he wanted to do. The Army doctors had shown him +to the nearest door, but he had offers from magazines and syndicates to +return to the war zones, and the radio wanted him as a commentator.</p> + +<p>It was Bird who first learned of Hall's new plans. And Bird understood. +"The Spanish War was round one," Hall told him. "South America was one +of the stakes. The Falange had an organization in the Latin countries. +The Heinies used to brag about it to me in San Sebastian. I'm going to +South America to see it for myself. Maybe there's a book in it, maybe +there isn't. I can afford to find out."</p> + +<p>Cuba had been the first stop on this odyssey. There Hall had had some +tough sledding, met some Spanish Republicans who knew him from Madrid, +won the aid of a group of young Cuban officials and written two angry +and documented magazine pieces.</p> + +<p>From Havana, Hall had flown to Puerto Rico.</p> + +<p>Hall had stopped thinking. The reverie into which the lieutenant had +plunged him passed into a rapt consideration of the imperfect smoke +rings he was blowing toward the ceiling.</p> + +<p>Dickenson joined him. "Well?" he asked. "Is it San Hermano tomorrow?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so, Dick."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to see you leave. We figured you'd stay for at least a month. +What's so urgent in San Hermano?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean to find out. All I know is what I read in the +papers." He handed the Governor two copies of the San Hermano +<i>Imparcial</i> he had found on a library table in the reception room while +having a cocktail before dinner. They were the papers which had made him +call Harris at Panair.</p> + +<p>The first issue was three weeks old. It described the visit of an +American Good-Will Commission to San Hermano, and told how the mission +was received by Enrique Gamburdo, the Vice-President, rather than by +Anibal Tabio, the President. In an oblique manner, the story went on to +deny the "widespread rumor" that Tabio had deliberately insulted the +Americans by not receiving them personally.</p> + +<p>"I don't like the way they denied the rumor," Hall said. "I know that +the paper is <i>imparcial</i> on the fascist side only."</p> + +<p>The other edition of <i>Imparcial</i> was three days old. It was the latest +copy available. It carried as its lead story the news that since Tabio's +illness had taken a drastic turn for the worse, Gamburdo had prevailed +upon a great Spanish doctor, Varela Ansaldo, to fly from Philadelphia to +San Hermano in an attempt to save the President's life.</p> + +<p>"And?" the Governor asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure. But it looks to me like a deliberate attempt to lay a +smelly egg in Tabio's nest. Anyway, I did a little checking with Harris. +I figured I'd be able to meet Ansaldo's plane, and I was right. The San +Hermano Clipper overnights in San Juan, you know. Ansaldo is sleeping at +the Escambrun tonight. Tomorrow we'll board the ship for San Hermano +together."</p> + +<p>"I still don't get it, Matt. Do you know this Ansaldo?"</p> + +<p>"No. But he's evidently been invited to San Hermano by Gamburdo. And I +found out a few things about Gamburdo in Havana," Hall said. "Some +top-ranking Falange chiefs in the Americas always spoke highly of him in +their letters. Especially the letters marked confidential."</p> + +<p>"There you go again!"</p> + +<p>"Don't. You know I'm not crazy."</p> + +<p>"But Matt, neither is Gamburdo crazy. He wouldn't dare do what you're +implying."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. But I'm not thinking of Gamburdo as much as I am of Tabio. I +like Anibal Tabio, like him a lot. I met him for the first time in +Geneva in '35, when he was Foreign Minister. Then I met him again in +'36, when he and Vayo and Litvinov were hammering away at the fat cats +backing Franco. He was a real guy, Dick. One of the few statesmen alive +who not only knew that the earth is round but also that the people on +this round earth like to eat and wear decent clothes and send their kids +to college.</p> + +<p>"I remember how in '37, after Halifax yawned all through his speech and +then led the rest of the delegates in voting against Vayo's proposals, +Tabio sat down with me in a little bar and ordered a light beer and told +me very quietly that this was his cue. 'I must go home,' he told me, +'and see that it doesn't happen to my country.' That's how he pulled up +his stakes and went back to San Hermano and ran for President."</p> + +<p>"He's good, Matt. I know that."</p> + +<p>"He's damn good. He's the best of the anti-fascist leaders on the +Continent right now, Dick. He deserves all the help he isn't getting +from us."</p> + +<p>The Governor put the paper down with a sigh. "I'll tell you a secret, +Matt," he said. "But it's really secret. You know that there's going to +be a Pan-American conference on foreign policy in Havana in five weeks. +Well, some of the smarter heads in Washington are getting worried. We're +sending a delegation to the conference to ask all the nations down here +to break with the Axis. And some of us are afraid that if Tabio +is—well, not able to pick the San Hermano delegation, his government +will remain neutral."</p> + +<p>Hall stood up and began pacing between the couch and the chair. He +pulled out a large white handkerchief and mopped the sweat on his face, +his neck, his quivering hands. "God damn them all to hell," he said, +"they're moving in on us in our own backyard and when you try to say a +word in Washington they spit in your eye and tell you Franco is a +neutral and a friend."</p> + +<p>Dickenson drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly and audibly. "What's it all +about, Matt?" he asked, softly. "Where does San Hermano come in?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know a mucking thing yet. All I know is that it stinks to high +heaven. Listen, Dick, I'm not crazy. You know that. In Washington they +act as if I'm crazy or worse when I try to tell them." Hall put his hand +to the twitching right side of his face as if to keep it still. His +outburst had completely dried his throat. He went to the sideboard, +threw some ice cubes into a giant glass, poured soda over the ice.</p> + +<p>The Governor watched him swallow the contents in huge gulps. "Better sit +down, Matt," he said. "You'll blow a valve."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," he said. He put the glass down on the floor, ran the +handkerchief over his neck. "There's one thing I do know, and it's +killing me. I know the Falange is in this. It's all I have to know. I +remember reading a fascist paper in jail in San Sebastian. There was a +big map on the back page, a map showing Spain as the center of the +Spanish World. An artist had superimposed the five arrows of the Falange +over the face of Spain. The article under the map said that while one of +the arrows pointed to Madrid, two pointed to the Philippines and the +others pointed to Latin America. They weren't kidding, Dick. When the +Japs marched into Manila they decorated the Philippine Falange for the +fifth-column job the Falangistas performed for Hirohito. And there are +twenty Falangist cells in Latin America for every one cell they had in +Manila on December 6, 1941.</p> + +<p>"And why not, Dick? It's the Germans who've always run the Falange. +Today they run Spain. And they also run the Exterior Falange set-up. +Maybe Falangismo as a philosophy is phony as all hell, and maybe its +creed of Hispanidad, with all its blah about Latin America returning to +the Spanish Empire, is just as phony. Maybe it doesn't make sense to us +gringos. I'll grant that. But it is a nice Nazi horse on the dumb +Spanish aristocrats who do Hitler's dirty work in the Americas. In +German hands it's one of the dynamics of this war. I've seen it in +operation, and I know. It's the gimmick that makes rich Spaniards fuel +and hide submarines in the Caribbean—you know that for a fact yourself. +It's the new amalgam which makes 'em look to Holy Mother Spain as the +core of a new empire, it's ..."</p> + +<p>"But granting all this, Matt, why must you go to San Hermano?"</p> + +<p>Hall swallowed some soda. He put the glass back on the floor, grabbed +the San Hermano <i>Imparcial</i> from the Governor's hands. Slowly, he +crushed the paper and held it in front of Dickenson's face. "Do you know +who publishes <i>El Imparcial</i>?" he asked. "I'll tell you. It's a fascist +named Fernandez. In San Sebastian, during the war, he strutted all over +town in a Falange officer's uniform browning his nose with all the +top-ranking lice, the Germans, the Italians, the Franco crowd. He was +there for months, making radio speeches and public appearances and +getting cramps in the right arm from holding it up in the stiff-arm +salute. I saw him a dozen times, if I saw him once."</p> + +<p>"José Fernandez? I met him at a conference in Rio. He seemed like a +pleasant enough chap," the Governor said.</p> + +<p>"They're all pleasant. They can afford to be. You never met Ribbentrop +and Otto Abetz, Dick. They were the most charming men in Europe before +the war. But listen, last week in Havana I looked at a collection of +pictures taken from the files of the chief of the Falange delegation for +the Americas. There was one picture of a banquet held by the Falange in +San Hermano late in 1936. It was a secret affair, only insiders and +leaders. And there, on the dais, was Licenciado Enrique Gamburdo, big as +life."</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo!"</p> + +<p>"Sure. It was a secret affair, all right. Not a word in the papers, and +everyone present sworn to secrecy by a Bishop who was among the honored +guests." Hall dried the sweat on his hands again. "But always at these +affairs there's a man with a camera. Usually he's a Gestapo Heinie. +Sometimes he's a Gestapo Spaniard or even a Gestapo Latin-American. A +picture, just one picture, has to be made. It goes to the German consul +or the Falange chief of the country and they have to forward it to the +Ibero-American Institute in Berlin. The pictures back up the reports, +you see, and, besides, when you have a picture of a deacon trucking with +a doxie in a bordello it's a good thing to threaten to show the deacon's +wife if the deacon decides to return to the paths of righteousness."</p> + +<p>"But are you sure, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a good reporter. My job is to remember unimportant things, and to +remember them well when they become important. If I'm wrong, I'll find +out for myself in San Hermano."</p> + +<p>The Governor accepted one of Hall's cigars. "God," he said, "I hope +you're wrong, Matt."</p> + +<p>Later, back in his hotel room, Hall stripped to his shorts, ran cold +water over his wrists and the back of his neck. He poured some Haitian +rum into a glass, drenched it with soda from the pink-and-green night +table.</p> + +<p>Outside, in the darkness, four boys were playing tag. Hall listened to +the whispered padding of their bare feet as they flew from cobblestones +to trolley tracks. He went to the wrought-iron balcony, stood there +watching the undersized kids chasing each other up and down the narrow +street. Two freighters rode at anchor in the harbor, their gray noses +pointing at the pink Customs House. A soldier lurched down the street, +barely missing the feet of an old <i>jíbaro</i> sleeping in the doorway of a +dark store.</p> + +<p>Hall returned to the desk. He wrote a short note to a friend in a +government bureau in Havana—merely to say that he was leaving for San +Hermano and that for the time being could be reached in care of Pan +American Airways there—and a similar note to Bird. He decided to let +his other letters wait until he reached San Hermano.</p> + +<p>The kids who were playing tag disappeared. The only noise which broke +the silence of the night now was the soft pounding of the presses in the +newspaper plant up the street. Hall sealed his letters and started to +pack his bags.</p> + +<p>The four boys reappeared with a whoop. They carried freshly printed +magazines this time, and, as they ran down the street, first one then +another took up the mournful cry: "<i>Puerto Rico Ilustrado! +Il-us-traaa-dooohhh!</i>" They were no longer to be seen when Hall ran out +to the balcony to look.</p> + +<p>He took a cold shower, then lit one of his Havanas. The mosquito net +which completely covered his bed annoyed him. He put out the light in +order not to see the bars of the net frame. Silently, he railed against +the sugar planters and their kept politicos for leaving the island prey +to malaria. He had to remind himself that the net was his protection +against malaria before he could crawl under the frame, but even then he +climbed into bed with a cigar in his mouth.</p> + +<p>The cigar was his protection, his secret weapon, against the +claustrophobia the <i>mosquitero</i> gave him. There were no cigars in +Franco's prisons, no cigars and no cool sheets and coiled spring +mattresses, no soft breezes floating in from a harbor as ancient as the +Conquistadores.</p> + +<p>He lay under the net, naked and uncovered, blowing smoke rings at the +cross bars above him. He thought of Anibal Tabio in Geneva, thin as a +reed, his slender hand pointing to the pile of German and Italian +documents del Vayo had brought to the League. He thought of Tabio and he +thought of his three years in Spain and, thinking, he got worked up all +over again.</p> + +<p>It was not easy to think of the months of being trapped like an animal +in a cage, of being pushed around by smirking men who had the guns, of +watching the metal inkstand in the hands of the German major the second +before it crashed into his own face. No, it was not easy, and the memory +of San Sebastian led to the scarlet memory of the afternoon on the +Malecon in Havana less than a month ago when Sanchez had pointed out to +him two leaders of the Falange at a café table and he started out to +bash their heads together right then and there. Luis and Felix had had +to grab him and wrestle him to the sidewalk, laughing and playing at +being just three jolly boys who'd had a drink too much instead of two +Spanish Republicans keeping a frenzied American from killing two men +they detested and would gladly have killed themselves.</p> + +<p>Hall sat up, shaking, covered with sweat. He crawled out of bed, stood +barefooted on the tiled floor. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness +came over him. He was lonely in his person, lonelier still in his +inability to make any of his own people understand the gnawing hates and +fears which had taken him first to Havana and then to San Juan and +now—<i>quién sabe</i>? And then, realizing with an amused start that he was +thinking in Spanish, he tore the net off the bed, threw the cigar away, +and went to sleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_two" id="Chapter_two"></a><i>Chapter two</i></h2> + + +<p>Dr. Varela Ansaldo was traveling with his assistant, a young Dr. Marina, +an American nurse named Geraldine Olmstead, and a Dominican passport. +This much Hall was able to observe at the ground station, before the +passengers for San Hermano and way points boarded the Stratoliner.</p> + +<p>The Dominican passport interested Hall. He knew that the passports were +for sale at an average price of a thousand dollars. Refugees starved and +borrowed and sold their souls to scrape together a thousand dollars for +one of the precious passports. When you met a Spaniard with a new +Dominican passport, you seldom had to ask questions; you knew you were +meeting a man whose life was not worth a nickel in Spain. And yet, in +the day-old issue of <i>Time</i> the Clipper had flown in from Miami, the +biography of Ansaldo carried no hint of the doctor's being in disfavor +with Franco. Nor did the biography mention the physician's Dominican +citizenship.</p> + +<p>Hall read the <i>Time</i> biography again. <i>Scrupulously impartial during the +Spanish Civil War, Ansaldo took no sides, remaining at his post as a +healer under both nationalist and loyalist flags. With the end of war, +Ansaldo accepted a Chair offered by the Penn Medical Institute in +Philadelphia, assuming new position in October, 1939.</i> The story went on +to describe some of the new operations Ansaldo had since performed.</p> + +<p>Hall unbuckled his seat belt. He had a single seat on the left of the +plane, the third seat from the front. Ansaldo's nurse had the seat in +front of his. She sat across the aisle from Marina and Ansaldo, who +shared a double seat. Hall sat opposite a pink-cheeked Dutchman of sixty +who shared a seat with a very dark Brazilian. A State Department courier +had the seat in front of the nurse. The other passengers included the +wife of an American Army officer, some Panair officials, two Standard +Oil engineers, and some quiet Latin American government officials on +their way back from Washington.</p> + +<p>Most of the passengers, now that the plane had gained altitude, were +trying to sleep. The little Hollander was wide awake, virtuously and +happily wide awake with the morning heartiness of a man who has been +going to bed and rising early all of his life. He beamed at Hall. "I see +you and I are the only ones who had a good night's sleep, Mr. Hall." +Then, laughing, he explained that he had recognized Hall from the +picture on the jacket of his book before he had even heard his name +announced by the steward on boarding ship. His accent was slight, but +definite.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday," he said, gesturing at Hall's seat, "Miss Prescott—a +charming lady, by the way—and today another American writer. Ah, well, +the damn wheel turns and comes up twice with the same value. Oh, I +forgot. My name is Wilhelm Androtten."</p> + +<p>Hall extended his hand across the aisle, gripped the hand Androtten +offered him. It was a pudgy little hand, soft and white and pink.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Androtten sighed. "I have quite a hell of a story of my own to +tell about enemy actions. I too have been an actor in the drama. But of +course I'm not a writer. Ah no, Mr. Hall," he waved a stiff little index +finger back and forth in front of his glowing face, "I'm not going to +suggest that you write my story. To me it is important as hell. But to +the world? It is not as dramatic as the sinking of the <i>Revenger</i>. A +thousand times no!"</p> + +<p>The Hollander pulled an immense old-fashioned silver cigarette case from +the pocket of his brown-linen suit. "Have an American cigarette? Good. +Yes, mine is only the story of how the damn Japanese Army drove a poor +coffee planter off his estates and then out of Java. And that is all, +sir, except that as you may have guessed—I was the planter. Now I am, +so to speak, a real Flying Dutchman, flying everywhere to buy coffee +from the other planters and then flying everywhere to sell it again. But +I try to be jolly as hell and to bear my load like a Dutchman should, +Mr. Hall."</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> a story, Mr. Androtten," Hall said. "A real one." The strong +light above the clouds rasped his sleep-hungry eyes. He put on his dark +glasses, leaned his head back against the padded roll of the reclining +chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you really think my story is worth while, Mr. Hall? I would be +honored as hell to tell you the whole story with all the damn facts, if +you desire. I ... Are you getting off at Caracas?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm sorry. I go all the way through to San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Good, Mr. Hall. I go to San Hermano myself. Do you know the Monte Azul +bean, sir? It's richer than the Java. A little Monte Azul, a little +Bogota, some choice Brazilians—and you have a roast that will delight +the rarest palates. Yes, San Hermano is my destination. San Hermano and +the damn Monte Azul bean."</p> + +<p>Hall gave up trying to stifle a series of yawns. "I'm sorry," he said. +"I guess I didn't get enough sleep after all."</p> + +<p>"Please sleep," Androtten said. "We'll have plenty of time to talk in +San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Plenty of time." Hall opened the collar of his shirt, sank into a +light sleep almost at once. He slept for over an hour, waking when the +Standard Oil engineers in the rear seats laughed at a joke told by the +Army officer's wife. The steady drone of the engines, the continuing +sharpness of the light made remaining awake difficult. Hall closed his +eyes again but there was no sleep.</p> + +<p>Androtten and the Brazilian had found a common tongue, French, and in +the joy of this discovery had also discovered a common subject. The +Brazilian was holding forth on the exotic virtues of one rare coffee, +the huge diamond on his finger ring catching and distributing the light +as he gestured. Androtten was trying to describe the various blends of +Java.</p> + +<p>Hall thought of Ansaldo and Marina and the nurse. Marina was about +thirty, too dapper, too fastidious, his plaid sports jacket fitting too +snugly over his rounded hips. On boarding the plane, the nurse had +brushed against his arm, which he withdrew with a subconscious gesture +of revulsion. Hall watched him now, buffing his nails with a chamois +board. Ansaldo had also awakened, was reading one of the pile of medical +magazines he had carried into the plane. The nurse was a blank, so far. +All he could see of her was the soft roll of strawberry hair. She had a +few faint freckles on her nose and full lips and it was ten to one that +she was from the Midwest. But a blank.</p> + +<p>The older doctor, Ansaldo, was about fifty, and had a stiff correctness +that Hall had noticed immediately in the airport. He wore glasses whose +horn rims were of an exaggerated thickness. His iron-gray hair, cut +short and combed straight back, had an air of almost surgical neatness. +He had the long horse face of an El Greco Cardinal, and behaved even +toward his assistant and his nurse with a detached politeness. Marina's +obvious and fawning devotion to the older man seemed to bounce off +Ansaldo without effect. Hall put him down as an extremely cold fish, but +a cold fish who would bear watching for reasons Hall himself could not +quite define.</p> + +<p>When the plane stopped in Caracas for refueling, Ansaldo, carrying a +thick medical journal with his finger still marking his place, took a +slow walk in the shade, Marina following at his heels like a puppy. Hall +got out and lit a cigar and when he noticed the nurse looking at the +exhibit of rugs and dolls set up in a stand at the edge of the airfield +he walked to her side. "Indian-craft stuff," he said. "If you'd care to, +I'll be your interpreter."</p> + +<p>The girl took off her dark glasses, looked at Hall for a moment, and +then put them on again. "I can't see too well with these darn things," +she laughed. "Do you think I could get a small rug without giving up my +right arm?"</p> + +<p>"Your right arm is safe with me around, Madam. Perhaps you never heard +of me, Madam, but in these parts I'm known as Trader Hall. Matthew +Hall."</p> + +<p>"You're hired. My name is Jerry Olmstead."</p> + +<p>They sauntered over to the stand. The afternoon sun ignited the fires in +her hair. She was taller than most women, and though her white sharkskin +suit was well creased from travel, Hall could see that she had the kind +of full shapely figure which made poolroom loafers whistle and trusted +bank employees forget the percentages against embezzlers. Feature for +feature, Jerry Olmstead's was not the face that would have launched even +a hundred ships. Her forehead was too high, and it bulged a bit. Her +blue eyes were a shade too pale for the frank healthiness of her skin. +Her nose was straight and well shaped, but almost indelicately large. +When she smiled, she displayed two rows of glistening healthy teeth +which were anything but even and yet not uneven enough to be termed +crooked.</p> + +<p>Hall helped her select a small rug, agreed at once to the price asked by +the Indian woman at the stand, and then had a long discussion in Spanish +with the peddler about the state of affairs at the airport before giving +her the money. "You see," he said to Jerry, "unless you bargain with +these Indians, you're bound to get robbed." The rug cost Jerry something +like sixty cents in American money.</p> + +<p>"You'll be able to pick up some wonderful beaten-silver things in San +Hermano," Hall said. "I'd be glad to show you around when we get there. +In the meantime, can I get you a drink?"</p> + +<p>"I'd love one."</p> + +<p>The only drinks for sale in the canteen were cold ginger ale and +lemonade. They had the ginger ale, and Hall learned that this was the +girl's first trip out of the United States. "It's all so different!" she +said, and Hall thought he would grimace but then the girl smiled happily +and he watched the skin wrinkle faintly at the bridge of her nose and he +smiled with her. "You'll like San Hermano," he said. "And I'd like to +show it to you when we get there."</p> + +<p>"Did you spend much time there?"</p> + +<p>"Only a few days. I took a freighter back from Cairo two years ago and +it put in at San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Say, what do you do, anyway?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't sound so surprised. I'm a newspaperman."</p> + +<p>"Were you a war correspondent?"</p> + +<p>Hall nodded. "I even wrote a book."</p> + +<p>Jerry looked into her glass. "I know it sounds terrible," she said, "but +I haven't read a book in years. Was yours about the war?"</p> + +<p>"Let's talk about it in San Hermano. Do I show you the town?"</p> + +<p>"It's a date."</p> + +<p>"That bell is for us," Hall said. "We'd better get back to the plane."</p> + +<p>They left the canteen. Ansaldo and Marina were still walking in a slow +circle. "Come on," Jerry said. "Meet my boss."</p> + +<p>She approached Ansaldo. "Dr. Ansaldo," she said, "I'd like you to meet +Mr. Matthew Hall. He's a newspaperman from the States. And this is Dr. +Marina.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hall is showing me around San Hermano when we get there."</p> + +<p>"How nice," Ansaldo said, and from his tone Hall knew that he meant +nothing of the sort.</p> + +<p>"But now we must hurry," Ansaldo said. "The plane is about to depart." +He took Jerry's arm and they walked on ahead of Marina and Hall.</p> + +<p>"Señor Hall, if you are going to write about the doctor's forthcoming +operation," Marina said, "I would gladly help you. The doctor is the +greatest surgeon of our times, perhaps, who knows, of all times. He is +magnificent. In his hands, the scalpel is an instrument of divinity. It +is more, it is divinity itself. I must tell you the story of the +doctor's greatest operations, although all of them are great. I will +help you. You will write a great article about the great operation."</p> + +<p>"I am very grateful to you, doctor. I hope that in San Hermano you will +have enough time to give me your counsel. After you, doctor." Hall took +a last drag at his cigar as Marina climbed the plane ladder.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a mountain—the Monte Azul which produced the beans of +Androtten's rhapsodies—and a plateau in the clouds and below the +plateau lay the ocean and the city of San Hermano. The lights were going +on in the city when Flight Eighteen ended on the airport in the plateau, +for the city was five miles farther from the sinking sun of the moment. +On the plateau, the airport lights blended with the brown-orange shades +of dusk; in the city the lights cut through the classic blackness of +night.</p> + +<p>A smartly dressed colonel and a top-hatted functionary of the Foreign +Office were waiting with two black limousines for the Ansaldo party. The +man from the Foreign Office had cleared all the passport and customs +formalities. Jerry had just enough time to tell Hall that she and the +doctors were to stay at the Bolivar before the cars started down the +winding hill to San Hermano.</p> + +<p>Hall rode to town with the rest of the passengers in the sleek Panair +bus. He and Androtten were also bound for the Bolivar.</p> + +<p>Riding into the valley, the bus descended into the night. It was a night +made blacker by the war, as were the nights in San Juan and Havana and +New York. San Hermano was the capital of a nation still at peace, but +the maws of the war across the seas reached for the oil and coal of the +world, and San Hermano could not escape this world. Three lights in +every four on the Plaza de la Republica were out, for coal and oil +furnished the power for the city's electricity. Two years earlier, Hall +had asked Anibal Tabio why coal and oil had to turn the city's dynamos +when the nation abounded in thousands of mountain streams which could be +harnessed by men with slide rules and logarithm tables, and the gentle +President had answered him in a sentence. "Because, my dear Hall, San +Hermano has been in the twentieth century for barely a decade, while +your own nation has been in our century for forty years." And tonight, +looking at the ancient Plaza from the window of his room on the third +floor of the Bolivar, Hall remembered Tabio's words with disturbing +clarity.</p> + +<p>From the balcony of his hotel room, Hall could see both San Hermanos, +the Old City and the New. Everyone spoke of the two cities in these +terms—the geographers, the tourist guides, the inveterate <i>Hermanitos</i> +themselves.</p> + +<p>The Old San Hermano had been founded by the Conquistadores in the +sixteenth century, a walled speck on the shores of an ocean, a fortress +and a thatched church, a handful of flimsy huts. In a century, the +thatched church became a proud, gloomy Cathedral; one of the walls was +knocked down, and in its place was the cobbled Plaza de Fernando e +Isabel. The Plaza was Spain in the New World; opening on to its cobbles +stood the huge Moorish stone palaces designed by architects brought over +from Seville, the palace of the Captains-General who served as colonial +governors, the fortified mint, the Cathedral, the home of the Governor's +elder brother, the Duke of La Runa. Enslaved Indians and later chained +Negroes from the African coasts had carried on their backs the square +stones Spanish masons cut and formed for the edifices of the Plaza, +first the Cathedral, next the Governor's Palace and the Mint.</p> + +<p>Then, in the days of Hidalgo, Bolivar, and San Martin, the ancient Plaza +of the Conquistadores became the Plaza de la Republica, and for a few +glorious hours the new nation was in tune with its century. But the +great Liberators of the times were to die in embittered exile, far from +the scenes of their brightest victories. For one swing of the pendulum +the liberated lands teetered on the dizzy heights of freedom, and then +the pendulum swung back and stopped swinging for a century. The land +remained in the hands of the Spanish nobles, and they won their war +against the Industrial Revolution, and all that remained of the hour of +triumph was the name the Liberators had given the old Plaza and a hollow +Republic controlled by the landowners.</p> + +<p>In ways more subtle, but no less real than the old ways, the Republic +became a colony again, except that the nation was no longer ruled by a +crown but by new and even more potent symbols: the sign of the pound, +the sign of the dollar, the sign of the franc. The new order brought a +new San Hermano, a new Western city built around the rims of the old +fortress seaport. It was a strange and often beautiful mélange of French +villas and British banks and American skyscrapers and German town +houses.</p> + +<p>The old Constitution of the Liberators gave way to a series of native +dictators who waxed rich as the servants of the foreign owners of the +metals and minerals discovered under the nation's soil, of the foreign +business men who never saw San Hermano but built vast abattoirs near the +wharves where skinny <i>Hermanitos</i> earned a few pennies a day for +slaughtering and then loading endless herds of native cattle in the dark +holds of foreign ships.</p> + +<p>They were ruthless men, the dictators who sat in San Hermano as +pro-Consuls of the foreigners and the landowners, ruthless men who, for +their share of the profits of the foreigners, of the endless rivers of +pesetas the landowners sent to Spain, maintained armies of cutthroats to +put down any attempt at rebellion against the new existing order.</p> + +<p>The last of these dictators to sit in San Hermano was General Agusto +Segura. More than a decade had passed since Segura had died in bed and a +junta of professors and miners wrested the control of the nation from +Segura's henchmen. There had been little bloodshed when the Junta took +over; after thirty years, the Segura regime, or what was left of it, had +just collapsed of its own rottenness.</p> + +<p>Hall thought of Segura, and the state he had ruled, and then, again +thinking about Tabio while he stared into the shadows of the darkened +Plaza de la Republica, Hall remembered Tabio's quiet remark about his +country's having been in the twentieth century for barely a decade. A +slim decade, which began with a world in confusion and was now ending +with a world in flames. But if the country weathered these flames, it +would be because Tabio, instead of running for the Presidency after the +revolution which swept out the remnants of Segurista power, had chosen +to serve as Minister of Education for nearly ten years. Hall was willing +to stake his life on this, ready to bet that the phenomenal free +educational system Tabio had set up for children and adults would, in +the final analysis, be one of the nation's chief bulwarks against +fascism.</p> + +<p>He changed his clothes and went out for a walk through the crooked +streets of Old San Hermano before turning in. Many lights were burning +in the fourth floor of the Presidencia, the floor on which the President +had his apartment. Military guards were standing listlessly at the +entrances to the gilded building.</p> + +<p>Hall walked along the Plaza until he came to the Calle de Virtudes, +which led to a little café on the street opposite the rear entrance of +the Presidencia. It had no windows but giant shutters which were folded +against the wall when the café was open for business. The café itself +stood on a corner, the sidewalks on both sides of the place covered with +tables and chairs. Wooden lattice fences, painted a bright orange, +screened the tables from the pedestrian's section of the sidewalk. +Inside, near the bar itself, two boys with guitars were playing and +singing the tragi-comic peasant songs of the south.</p> + +<p>He took a sidewalk table, ordered a meat pie and a bottle of beer, and +then went to the small hotel next to the café to buy a sheet of paper, +an envelope, and an air-mail stamp. He asked for a telephone book, +looked up the names under Gomez, copied the address of one Juan Gomez, +and returned to his table. There he bought a newspaper from a boy +peddling the latest edition of the evening. The front page carried a +story about Ansaldo: the distinguished visiting medico was to spend the +next day conferring with local doctors who had been treating the +President. In one of the back pages, under Arrivals, there was a line +about the illustrious author and war correspondent Dr. M. Gall who +reached San Hermano by Clipper; Dr. Gall was the noted author of <i>The +Revenger</i>, even now being produced in Hollywood.</p> + +<p>The paper was put aside for the meat pie. When he was done with the +food, Hall pushed his plates away and spread his sheet of lined writing +paper on the table before him. He called for some ink, filled his +fountain pen, and wrote a letter in Spanish to a "Dear Pedro."</p> + +<p>It was a rambling, innocuous letter which started out with family gossip +about a forthcoming marriage of a cousin, the marriage prospects of the +writer's eligible daughter, the letter received from Cousin Hernando who +was happy on his new ranch and whose good wife was expecting another +child soon. Then the letter went on to say that "I suppose you have read +in the Havana papers that our President is ailing. Today there arrived +in our city the distinguished Spanish doctor Varela Ansaldo. He is to +treat the President. Perhaps I am very stupid, but is he not the surgeon +who operated so well on the throat of your dear Uncle Carlos?" The +letter then continued on for another page of family gossip and regards +and requests that Pedro embrace a whole list of dear cousins and aunts. +It was signed, simply, "Juanito."</p> + +<p>Hall read the letter twice, sealed it, and addressed the envelope to +Pedro de Aragon, Apartado 1724, La Habana, Cuba. Pedro de Aragon was a +myth. Mail at this box was picked up by Santiago Iglesias, an officer of +the Spanish Republican Army whom Hall had met again in Havana. Iglesias +did at one time have an uncle named Carlos; the uncle had died on the +Jarama front from a fascist bullet that tore through his throat and +killed him instantly. Hall had arranged to write to Iglesias under names +chosen from the phone books of different cities if the need arose. He +scribbled the name and address of Juan Gomez on the back of the +envelope, left some money on the table, and walked back to the Plaza. +There he dropped the letter in a mailbox and continued on his way to the +Bolivar.</p> + +<p>There was a new clerk on duty when Hall reached the hotel, a wiry man of +forty-odd whose yellow silk shirt clashed with both his black mohair +jacket and his long, lined face. Hall asked for the key to Room 306 in +Spanish.</p> + +<p>The clerk cleared his throat and answered in English. "There was +messages," he said, handing the key to Hall with a sheaf of slips. "And +also this." From under the counter he drew a sealed letter written on +heavy paper and bearing the neat blue imprint of the American Embassy at +San Hermano on the envelope.</p> + +<p>Hall frowned and tore open the envelope.</p> + +<p>"Señorita the Ambassador's daughter telephoned twice," the clerk said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"It's on this slip, Mr. Hall."</p> + +<p>"Thanks again." He read the few handwritten lines of the letter. It was +an invitation from the Ambassador's daughter, Margaret Skidmore, to +attend the Ambassador's party at the Embassy on the 5th. That was two +nights off.</p> + +<p>There was a message from Jerry Olmstead. She had phoned from her room to +leave word that she had retired for the evening but would meet him in +the dining room at ten for breakfast. Hall noticed that the clerk was +watching him intently as he read the girl's message, but when he started +to read the next slip the clerk interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"It's from Mr. Roger Fielding," he said. "I took the message myself. He +is a very nice person. An Englishman."</p> + +<p>On the slip the clerk had written, "Mr. Fielding is very sorry you were +not in because it is important. He will call you again."</p> + +<p>"My name is Fernando Souza," the clerk said, extending his hand. "I am +very happy to meet you."</p> + +<p>Hall put the papers down on the desk and shook hands with the clerk. +They had a meaningless chat about the rigors of wartime travel and the +dimout in peaceful San Hermano and Hall learned that the Englishman +Fielding was in the tall Lonja de Comercio building and very decent. "I +have been at this desk for many years and in this position one meets +many people," the clerk said, and he went on amiably chatting about what +one could see on different one-day tours from the city.</p> + +<p>"It is very sad about the President," Hall said, and then the clerk +reddened and he forgot to speak English. "The Educator must live," +Fernando Souza said. "If the Educator goes, the nation goes."</p> + +<p>"I know," Hall said. "I admire Don Anibal greatly."</p> + +<p>"<i>Momentico, Señor. El teléfono.</i>" After nine, the night clerk had to +handle the switchboard at the Bolivar.</p> + +<p>It was Fielding again. Hall picked up the phone on the marble counter. +"Yes, Mr. Fielding," he said, "I'm sorry I missed your first call."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, old man. Not at all. Damned decent of you to answer my call +now, what with the hour and all that." The voice which came through +Hall's receiver was the raspy, crotchety, bluff voice of a movie +Britisher, the diction almost too good to be true. "I must say it was a +good surprise, a good surprise. The paper tonight, I mean, even if they +called you Dr. Gall. But what can they do if the H is silent in +Spanish?"</p> + +<p>"I've been called Gall before."</p> + +<p>"Of course you have, of course you have." The man at the other end of +the wire cleared his throat with a loud harumph. "What I'm calling +about, Mr. Hall, is—well, damn it all, what with the war and all that I +guess we have a right to keep a tired traveler from going to bed the +second his plane reaches the end of his road. I think it rather urgent +we have a bit of coffee and a bit of a chat tonight. Really, old man, I +think it is urgent."</p> + +<p>"At what time?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm at home now," Fielding said. "I can get to Old San Hermano in an +hour. Souza can tell you how to get to my office. Nice chap, that Souza. +Straight as a die."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"The office is about ten minutes from the Bolivar by cab, if Souza can +get you a cab. Suppose I ring you at the Bolivar when I reach the +office?"</p> + +<p>"That will be fine. See you soon." Hall put the phone down and turned to +Souza. "He said you are straight as a die," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fielding is a very decent Englishman," Souza said. He offered no +further information about Roger Fielding, and Hall decided against +asking any questions.</p> + +<p>"If you are meeting him at his office, I had better get you a cab," +Souza said, and then, sensing the hesitation in Hall's eyes, he quickly +added, "it would be better. Walking at night is dangerous, especially in +Old San Hermano, since the lights went out. There are many—accidents."</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Hall said. "Look, I'm going upstairs to catch a little sleep. +When Fielding calls back, get me that cab and send up a pot of coffee. +And it's been good meeting you, even if Fielding does say you are +straight as a die."</p> + +<p>Souza did not get the joke, but he knew that Hall was trying to joke and +he laughed.</p> + +<p>Hall went to his room, took off his shoes and his suit, and fell across +the bed. He dozed off wondering why he had agreed so readily to meet the +man with the tailor-made British diction.</p> + +<p>At ten-fifteen his phone rang. "Mr. Fielding called ten minutes ago. I +have your cab ready now. He is a very reliable driver."</p> + +<p>"Good. How about my coffee?"</p> + +<p>Souza laughed. "The only waiter on duty is a <i>cabrón</i>, Señor. Mr. +Fielding will have much better coffee for you, anyway."</p> + +<p>Hall chuckled as he washed the sleep out of his eyes with cold water and +combed his hair. The waiter is a <i>cabrón</i>! There was one for the book. +Hall made up a song while he dressed, a song about yes we have no coffee +today because the son of a gun is a dirty <i>cabrón</i> so we have no coffee +today.</p> + +<p>Souza slammed his palm down on the bell twice when the elevator let Hall +into the lobby. "Pepito!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>The biggest cab driver Hall had ever seen outside of the United States +bounded into the lobby from the blackness of the San Hermano night. He +advanced toward the desk in seven-league strides, wiping his right hand +on the blouse of his pale-blue slack suit and taking off his white +chauffeur's cap with the other hand. He hovered over Hall like a mother +hen.</p> + +<p>"Pepito," Souza said, "this is Señor Hall." This he said in Spanish. In +English, he again told Hall that the man was a very reliable driver.</p> + +<p>"<i>Con mucho gusto</i>, Señor 'All. <i>Me llamo</i> Delgado." Sheepishly, the +giant offered his hand to Hall.</p> + +<p>"I am much pleased," Hall said. "Shall we start now?"</p> + +<p>Pepito Delgado led Hall to a blue 1935 LaSalle parked in front of the +Bolivar. "She is my own machine after I make the last payment next +month," Delgado said. "I am glad you speak Spanish. It is the only +language I know." He drove Hall to the ten-story Comercio building in a +few minutes.</p> + +<p>When Hall tried to pay him, Delgado shook his head happily. "You'll pay +me later," he smiled. "I'll wait for you."</p> + +<p>"But I may be hours," Hall protested.</p> + +<p>Delgado called upon the Saints in a series of genially blasphemous +exhortations. "Mother of God," he said, "it is bad luck not to make a +round trip with the first American of the season. I'll wait and not +charge you more than two pesos for the whole trip."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to rob you," Hall said. "Wait, and we shall make a fair +price later."</p> + +<p>He entered the Comercio building, but as the doors of the elevator +closed and he started on his way up to the seventh floor Hall knew that +Delgado was only playing the fool and was in fact no man's fool at all, +and it bothered him. The right side of his face twitched slightly as he +left the car and walked down to the bend in the hall leading to Room +719.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_three" id="Chapter_three"></a><i>Chapter three</i></h2> + + +<p>The frosted glass door of Room 719 bore the words, "Roger Fielding Y +Cia." The anteroom was dark, but Hall could see the dim form of a man +sitting in a lighted inner room. He knocked on the glass without trying +the knob. In a moment, the light snapped on in the anteroom, and the man +from the inner office opened the hall door.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hall?" he asked. "I'm Roger Fielding. Welcome to San Hermano. And +please come inside."</p> + +<p>Fielding fitted to the last detail the mental image Hall had conjured of +the man on the phone. Genial, peppery, he not only talked like a +Hollywood Englishman, he was a casting director's dream. Let the call go +out for a man to play a retired India colonel, a British Ambassador, the +Duke of Gretna Green, the popular professor of Chaldean Culture at +Oxford, the Dean of Canterbury or the Chief of Scotland Yard, and +Fielding was the man who could slip into the role without even changing +from street clothes to costume. Fielding was the man, complete to the +faintly grizzled face with the gaunt features, the dazzling plaid +jacket, the thick-walled Dunhill pipe with the well-caked bowl.</p> + +<p>He ushered Hall into the inner office, whose shades were all drawn to +the sills. There was a large mahogany desk at the window; against the +wall stood a long table bearing a row of glass coffee makers, a tray of +demi-tasse cups, and a series of earthen canisters. On the wall above +this table hung a large sepia-tinted photograph of London, taken about +1920. It faced a large print of a cottage and a brook in the Shakespeare +country. This engraving hung over a row of four filing cabinets with +steel locks. The walls were further decorated with framed certificates +of Fielding's membership in coffee associations of San Hermano, Rio and +New Orleans.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down," Fielding urged, pulling a comfortable leather +chair to the side of his desk for Hall, and taking the swivel chair +behind the desk for himself. The highly polished desk was bare, except +for a calendar pad and a folded red-leather picture frame whose picture +faced Fielding.</p> + +<p>"I'm in coffee, you see."</p> + +<p>Hall glanced up at the certificates and the long table. "I see," he +said.</p> + +<p>"How was your trip? Not too tiring, I hope? That's the sad thing about +planes. Faster than ships, but rather confining."</p> + +<p>"It was not too bad," Hall said. "Besides, I stole an hour's cat nap at +the hotel while waiting for you to get to town."</p> + +<p>"Good for you," Fielding said. "I like a man who can steal an hour's +sleep when the spirit so moves him. May I make you some coffee to keep +you awake, though?"</p> + +<p>"If it's not too much trouble."</p> + +<p>The Englishman was already at his coffee table. He took the pipe out of +his mouth, pointed with the end of the curved stem at one of the +canisters. "I guess we'll mix you a little of that Monte Azul with some +of this light roast from the south," he said. "If that doesn't sit well, +I have two dozen other roasts you can try."</p> + +<p>Hall asked him how good a blend would result from the mixture of Monte +Azul, Bogota, and the various Brazilian growths Androtten had described +to the Brazilian on the plane.</p> + +<p>"Ah," Fielding smiled, "so you know coffees, too?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. My education started on the plane." Hall described +Androtten, and told Fielding of the Dutchman's experiences in Java and +his theories of the perfect blend.</p> + +<p>Fielding set some coffee and water into one of the vacuum makers, put a +match to the alcohol burner. "Androtten," he mumbled. "I don't remember +meeting him before. However, if it's the Monte Azul bean he's after, +I'll venture he'll be in to see us before the week is over. Let me see, +Androtten ..." He picked up his phone, asked for a local number. +"Hello," he said into the phone. "Sorry to call so late, old man. About +a chap named Androtten. A Hollander. Blitzed out of Java by the Nippos. +Of course. In coffee. Came in tonight on the Clipper to buy Monte Azul +for blending. Know him? I see. Well, thanks, anyway."</p> + +<p>The Englishman put the phone away. "One of my countrymen," he explained. +"He's not in Monte Azul and I'm not in southern crops. We help one +another in a case like this. Incidentally, he never heard of your +Androtten." He chatted aimlessly about the coffee business until the +coffee in the vacuum maker was ready, then he poured it into a small jug +and brought the jug and two demi-tasse cups to the desk. "Sugar?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Hall had lost his taste for sugar in San Sebastian. "I have it black and +pure," he said.</p> + +<p>"That's the only way to enjoy real coffee, Mr. Hall." Fielding took a +key from his pocket and went to the first filing cabinet. "However," he +said, "it wasn't to talk about coffee that you were generous enough to +come here tonight. Not to talk about coffee." He pulled a brown-paper +portfolio out of the file and returned with it to the desk. He undid the +strings that bound the portfolio, removed a manila folder.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better pull your chair around and sit next to me here," +Fielding said. "We have to look over some things in this file."</p> + +<p>Hall moved both the chair and the jug of hot coffee. From his new +position, he could see that the leather folding frame on the desk +contained two photos of what was evidently one person. One photo showed +a young man of twenty-odd standing near a stone wall in what was +undoubtedly England; the other photo was the young man as a laughing +child in a pony cart.</p> + +<p>"I lost my boy," Fielding mumbled, absently. He tapped the ashes from +his pipe out into an ash tray on the window sill, filled it again with +new tobacco from a worn ostrich pouch. Hall could see a thin, rheumy +film cover the Englishman's eyes.</p> + +<p>"The war?" Hall asked, softly, but if Fielding heard him he gave no +indication that he had.</p> + +<p>Fielding held a lighted match over the filled bowl of his pipe, started +it burning with deep, sucking draughts. "Ah, your book," he said, when +the pipe was burning. "You are a man of courage, Hall. You showed real +guts. The kind of guts our Nellie Chamberlain didn't have when England +needed them most."</p> + +<p>Hall poured fresh coffee into both his and Fielding's cups. "Thank you," +he said. "I tried to do it justice." He told him what the British censor +in Cairo had said when he saw the manuscript.</p> + +<p>The grizzled Englishman took the pipe out of his mouth, looked at Hall +with amazement and disgust. "British grit, my foot!" He bellowed. "The +<i>Revenger</i> was doomed the day Nellie Chamberlain decided to back Franco. +I'm talking about your other book, Hall, <i>Behind Franco's Lines</i>. +Any fool can get a battleship shot out from under him, but it takes a +man ..." Suddenly he stopped, because both Hall and he were looking at +the photos of the young man who was once a laughing boy in a +canary-colored pony cart.</p> + +<p>He opened the folder. A photostat of a multi-paged typewritten report +lay on top of the neat pile of papers in the folder. "Now then, Hall, to +get to the point. When I read that you had arrived in San Hermano, well, +frankly, Hall, I thought it was the answer to my prayers. I know I'm a +garrulous old man, but that comes from talking into the prevailing winds +for so long that I just can't help myself."</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," Hall said. "Only I never thought of it in that +way. I thought of it in terms of talking to a blank wall."</p> + +<p>"Be it as it may, Hall, I don't think I'll be talking at a blank wall +when I speak to you. As I said, there is a point to this meeting, and +the point is brief. Hall, the Falange is in San Hermano, and it is up to +much trouble."</p> + +<p>"The Falange!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what you are thinking. Tabio made it illegal and it had to +disband and all that. But Tabio's government never threw the whole +Falange crowd into jail, where they belong, and they are still getting +their orders from the Spanish Embassy."</p> + +<p>Hall passed a hand in front of his smarting eyes. "Did you say they're +up to trouble?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I said just that, Hall. Did you ever hear of the Cross and the Sword? +Sounds like the name of a ha'penny thriller. Have you seen one of these +since you arrived in San Hermano?" He handed Hall a gold lapel emblem; +it was a sword with a blazing hilt, the letters ATN engraved across the +cross piece of the hilt.</p> + +<p>"The ATN stands for Acción Tradicionalista Nacional, but no one calls +them that any more than they call the Nazis by their formal name. You +know, National German Socialist something or other. It's a bad business, +Hall, a very bad business. The Cross and Sword, alias the Falange +Española."</p> + +<p>"Are they very strong?"</p> + +<p>"They don't parade around the streets in their blue shirts as they did +until Tabio clamped down in '40, and they don't pack the Cathedral in +their Falange uniforms any more to hold special masses for the rotten +soul of that young snot old Primo de Rivera whelped. The Cross and the +Sword is not like that. But go to the San Hermano Country Club or a +meeting of the Lonja de Comercio or to a fashionable party in the +country and every tailored jacket you see will have a Cross and a Sword +pinned to the lapel.</p> + +<p>"Go to a little country village the day after the local school teacher +was murdered on some lonely dark road. The <i>campesinos</i> stand around +muttering 'The Cross and the Sword is guilty,' and the next night the +home of some local Spanish landowner goes up in smoke. Then it's only a +matter of hours before the Cross and Sword members in San Hermano are +raising hell because a fellow Cross and Sword member had his house +burned down. They tell everyone that's what happens when you have a Red +regime which forces a gentleman to sell his land to the government and +then sells the land back to the peasants who have to borrow the money +from the government to pay for the land."</p> + +<p>Hall turned the Cross and Sword emblem over in his fingers. "That's what +happened in Spain," he said. "It happened in just that way."</p> + +<p>"Of course it did, Hall. Of course it did. Now look here. Look at this." +From the bottom of the pile of documents in the folder, Fielding +extracted a map of the nation's coastline.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, "is the coast. Now note these islands. I have numbered +some of them in red ink. Now take this island, Number Three. Looks like +an ink blot, doesn't it, now? Not much of a place for anything. Just a +bunch of volcanic caves and some quite useless land. Good for grazing a +few head of sheep, but not too good even for that. Belongs to a chap +named Segundo Vardenio. Been in his family for years, over three hundred +years. Own the island, own thousands of acres on the shore facing the +bloody island. I know the whole family. More Spanish than the Duke of +Alba, that family.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, they were all in the Falange. Segundo Vardenio was one of +the big leaders of the Falange in the country. Used to wear his blue +shirt and his boots and give his damned stiff-arm salute all over the +place. And what do you think goes on at his island, Hall? I'll tell you. +Oil and submarines, submarines and oil. The Vardenio lands on the shore +are in sugar. They have a narrow-gauge Diesel railway of their own on +the estates. Understand, Hall, a <i>Diesel railway</i>? The locomotives and +the submarines burn the same type of oil."</p> + +<p>"German subs?"</p> + +<p>"Hun subs and only Hun subs, Hall. Look here. Look at this report. I +sent it to the chief of Naval Intelligence at our Embassy. On the 29th +of September, 1940, a Hun sub anchored off Vardenio's island. A small +launch belonging to the Vardenio family towed the sub into the largest +of the sea caves on the island. The sub took on a load of Diesel oil, +fresh fruit, meat, cigars, razor blades and a sealed portfolio. I don't +know what was in that portfolio. Three days later, the British freighter +<i>Mandalay</i>, carrying beef and copper from San Hermano, was torpedoed and +sunk by a Nazi submarine at approximately this point." Fielding held a +ruler between an X mark in the ocean and the island.</p> + +<p>He continued to read the report aloud, running a bony finger under the +words as he read them, pausing now and then to sneer at his detractors +in the British Embassy or to chuckle at some particular sarcasm written +into the report.</p> + +<p>The facts in the report were set forth in great detail. They dealt with +other submarine anchorages, with the role of the Cross and the Sword on +the waterfront, and with the beginnings of an organized ring of +sabotage. The report ended with the account of the events which followed +the visit of the <i>Ciudad de Sevilla</i>, a Spanish liner, to the port of +San Hermano.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Hall," Fielding said. "Listen to this. On the twentieth of +September, '41, the <i>Ciudad de Sevilla</i> docked in San Hermano at +four-ten in the afternoon. At approximately five o'clock, the radio +operator of the Spanish liner, one Eduardo Jimenez, left the ship and +proceeded to a bar on the Paseo de Flores, the bar known as La +Perrichola. There he met with two unidentified men, one of whom was +later identified as a provincial leader of the Cross and the Sword. The +three men went to a brothel near the waterfront, and at exactly ten +o'clock left the brothel and got into a waiting sedan which, by a +roundabout route, took them to Calle Galleano 4857, a quiet villa in the +west suburb.</p> + +<p>"The villa belongs to Jorge Davila, a lawyer for some of the great +landowning families of the south. Davila's record as one of the leaders +of the now illegal Falange and an organizer of the Cross and the Sword +has been covered in my previous report, dated July 7th of this year." +Fielding poured some fresh coffee for Hall and himself. "Tomorrow or the +next day I can show you the report in question, Hall. But to proceed +with this report.</p> + +<p>"At Davila's home, a group of Cross and Sword leaders were waiting for +the three men in the sedan. They had a long meeting, lasting over five +hours. Then eight men, including the Spanish ship's officer, left the +house and entered two fast cars of American make. The cars proceeded to +the town of Alcala, in the sugar lands some seventy miles from San +Hermano.</p> + +<p>"In the morning, there was no trace of the eight men in Alcala. That +night, the sugar fields of the English planter, Basil Greenleaf, were +set on fire by incendiary flames started in over twenty different parts +of his acreage at the same time. Two of Greenleaf's employees who were +attempting to fight the blaze in the east field were killed by rifle +fire. One of them lived long enough to stagger to the road where he told +his story to the Greenleaf foreman, a man named Esteban Anesi.</p> + +<p>"I must call your attention, sir, to the fact that Greenleaf was the +only planter in the Alcala region who had contracted to sell his crop to +Great Britain, and that the fire took place exactly two weeks before the +harvest time.</p> + +<p>"Eduardo Jimenez was next seen in San Hermano the day after the fire, +when he appeared in the Municipal Police Headquarters in what was +evidently a state of extreme intoxication. He complained that on leaving +his ship on the twentieth, he had gone to a bar for a drink, met up with +two pimps, and had then been taken to a brothel where, after two days of +drunken revelry, he had been cleaned out of his life's savings and then +been carried out to sleep it off in an alley off the Calle Mercedes. +Having made his complaint, he passed out. A police doctor examined him, +recommended a good night's sleep."</p> + +<p>Fielding held his finger under the word <i>sleep</i>. "Hah," he roared. "Damn +clever, the bastards! Now then, where was my place? Oh, yes, good +night's sleep. Yes."</p> + +<p>"In the morning, Jimenez awoke, vomited, and started to yell for the +jailer. He wanted to know what he was doing in a cell, and when shown +his complaint, he expressed innocent amazement. He could not recall a +thing. The warden gave him a hearty breakfast and sent him on his way. +Jimenez joined his ship, which sailed for Spain that afternoon with a +cargo of beef."</p> + +<p>The case of Eduardo Jimenez was the last in the report. Fielding put the +copy aside and leaned back in his chair. "Was this worth your while, +Hall?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Hall grinned. "You have the necessary proof?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. To the last word, old man. To the last word."</p> + +<p>"May I have a copy of your report?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I hope you will get better results, though."</p> + +<p>"May I ask an impertinent question, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Be as impertinent as you wish. I'm sixty-four years old, Hall, and if I +can't put up with Yank impertinence in this late stage, I deserve no +sympathy."</p> + +<p>"Well then, and don't answer if you think me too brash, Fielding, it's +simply ..."</p> + +<p>"Hold on!" Fielding held up a restraining hand. "Let me write your +question out on this slip of paper and after you ask it, I'll show you +what I've written." He scribbled a few words on the paper, covered them +with his left hand.</p> + +<p>"Are you British Intelligence?" Hall asked him.</p> + +<p>Fielding handed Hall the slip of paper. On it was written: <i>Q. Fielding, +old man, are you a British agent? A. No, my fine impertinent friend. +Believe it or not, I am not a British agent.</i></p> + +<p>He was not smiling when he put a lighted match to the slip of paper and +watched it burn to ashes in the bronze tray. "As a matter of fact," he +said, soberly, "I am not in very good repute at the British Embassy. I +organized a dinner of the more sensible people in the British colony +here in '38 and, after I'd made a blistering speech against Munich and +non-intervention in Spain we all signed a row of a cable to Nellie +Chamberlain. They have me down as a sort of an eccentric and a Red. +Perhaps I am eccentric, but I'm no more a Red than poor Professor Tabio +or your own Mr. Roosevelt."</p> + +<p>"I've been called both things before myself."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you have, Hall. I'll bet you have. Let's have another jug of +coffee and look through some more reports. Can you stay awake for an +hour or so?"</p> + +<p>"I can stay up all night."</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe you can. But I'm not as young as I used to be. We'll finish +the reports in this folder and call it a night. But first—the coffee."</p> + +<p>The aroma from the jug warmed Hall's senses. In the cell at San +Sebastian he would awake at night dreaming that he was smelling the +sweet vapors of a fresh pot of coffee boiling away near his pallet. +"God," he said, "I must tell you about what this smell means to me some +day."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing like it," Fielding agreed. "Now let me see, here's a +photostat of a letter from the Embassy acknowledging the receipt of the +report I just read, and here ... Ah...." He started to turn the next +letter over, but Hall, reading the letter-head, laid a hand on the +sheet.</p> + +<p>"May I?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Fielding handed him the letter. It was on the stationery of the +International Brigade Association in London, dated January, 1938.</p> + +<p>"The action on the Jarama front ... bitter ... your son Sergeant Harold +Fielding leading squad of volunteer sappers ... missing in action ... +thorough check on records of hospitals and field stations on that +front ... no record of Sergeant Fielding ... we therefore regret ... must +be presumed dead...."</p> + +<p>The father of Sergeant Fielding held the picture of the boy in front of +Hall. "This photograph," he said, heavily. "It was taken a year before +he went to Spain. You didn't, by any chance, happen to know the lad, did +you, Hall? He was my only child. Completing work on his Master's in +biochemistry at Cambridge when the Spanish show started. You didn't +happen to know him, eh, Hall?"</p> + +<p>Hall studied the photograph.</p> + +<p>"He fought with the British Battalion," Fielding offered.</p> + +<p>"I was with them in the fighting for Sierra Pedigrosa," Hall said. +"There was Pete Kerrigan, and a boy named Patterson I knew pretty well. +And—but that was after the Jarama fighting."</p> + +<p>"The boy is not alive," Fielding said. "I checked with the International +Red Cross after the war, and he was not taken prisoner by the fascists. +I just wanted to find someone who could tell me—who could tell me how +my boy died."</p> + +<p>Hall returned the red-leather frame. "I wish from the bottom of my heart +I could help you. But I just can't. I'm afraid I never did meet the +boy."</p> + +<p>Roger Fielding read the letter from London for perhaps the thousandth +time, sighed, and placed it face down on top of the pile to the left of +the letters and reports in the folder. "Ah, well," he said. "Now for the +living. Now here's a report I made three weeks ago. Some day those young +stuffed shirts in the Embassy will have to read my reports seriously, +Hall. Perhaps this is the report that will do it."</p> + +<p>The second report bore the heading: "Neutrality or Belligerence: +Gamburdo or Tabio."</p> + +<p>Hall started. "What's this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Let's look it over, old man." Fielding cleared his throat and began to +read aloud.</p> + +<p>"It is no secret, or it should be no secret to our vigilant intelligence +services, that President Anibal Tabio is a warm friend of the cause for +which the United Nations are fighting. It is no secret that Tabio, +before being stricken with his present tragic illness, was planning to +go before the Havana Conference himself to lead the continental campaign +to declare war on the Axis powers.</p> + +<p>"However, the views of Vice-President Gamburdo, who now has assumed the +control of the government, are less well known. Gamburdo's views, +however, are not among the best kept secrets of this war." Fielding +chuckled, waved his pipe in the direction of the Presidencia, and added +the comment, "I should say not! They are far from secret.</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo's ties to the Cross and the Sword are very discreet. I have +reason to believe that Gamburdo believes his link with the ATN is not +known by anyone except a few chosen fascist leaders."</p> + +<p>Fielding looked up at Hall. "Oho," he laughed. "That must have been hard +to swallow. They don't like to call the Cross-and-Sword bandits +'fascists.' Oh, no. Not the Embassy. They've got them tabbed as +'conservatives' opposed to the extremes of the Red Tabio regime. The +fools!</p> + +<p>"Well, now, to continue. Ah—chosen fascist leaders. Oh, yes. But twice +within the past two weeks, for three hours on the twelfth and for a full +day on the fourteenth, Gamburdo was at the ranch of his brother Salvador +in Bocas del Sur conferring with Cross and Sword leaders Jorge Davila, +Segundo Vardenio, Carlos Antonio Montes, and José Ignacio del Llano. The +second meeting was also attended by Ramos, the Spanish Consul General in +San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Ramos," Hall commented. "I know something about him. Two years ago +Batista gave him twelve hours to get the hell out of Cuba before the +diplomatic courtesies were forgotten and a cot reserved for Ramos in the +concentration camp for Axis nationals on the Isle of Pines."</p> + +<p>"He did come to San Hermano from Havana," Fielding said. "So I'm not so +crazy after all."</p> + +<p>"You're not crazy at all."</p> + +<p>"Hello!" Fielding exclaimed. "If you know that Ramos was kicked out, +then the Embassy crowd must know it too. Now I begin to see why +Commander New has invited me to have dinner at the Embassy tomorrow." He +took a deep breath, straightened his tie with elaborate mock ceremony. +"Mr. Hall," he said, speaking like an announcer at a royal court, "I +have the pleasure of informing you that Roger Fielding, Esquire, is +about to be released from the insane asylum to which His Majesty's +Ambassador consigned him in September, 1938."</p> + +<p>Hall laughed and helped himself to another pipeful of Fielding's +tobacco. "Let's finish this report," he said. "I can't tell you how +important it is to me."</p> + +<p>"Here you are, old man." Fielding handed the report to Hall. "I was +reading them aloud to keep you from falling asleep. But I think you're +wide awake now."</p> + +<p>Hall smiled warmly at the old man and read the rest of the report. It +was very brief. It described how Gamburdo had shifted nearly the entire +customs staff at San Hermano to other ports or to desk jobs on land, and +replaced them with new customs men who were in many cases proven members +of the Falange or the ATN or both. This move, the report stated, opened +the gates to Axis arsonists assigned to cross the seas on Spanish +liners.</p> + +<p>"Cross and Sword members," the report concluded, "are in certain +exclusive bars openly boasting that when Tabio passes away, Gamburdo +will declare the nation a neutral in this war. His family has been +sending copper, hides, beef, coffee, and sugar only to Spanish firms +since 1940. It is an open secret in the Lonja de Comercio that these +shipments do not remain in Spain but are immediately trans-shipped to +Germany. None of the Spanish firms with which the Gamburdo family does +business were in existence before July 18, 1936, the day the Spanish War +started. They are all known in shipping and export circles as German +enterprises. Gamburdo's brother has twice been heard to boast, while in +his cups, that the Nazis are protecting his vast holdings in France.</p> + +<p>"The Cross and Sword members in San Hermano business circles speak +highly of Gamburdo and to a man they assert that if Tabio dies, Gamburdo +will impose a foreign policy which in the name of neutrality will bring +prosperity to the landowners and exporters. It will also, of course, +bring vitally needed war supplies from this country to the Axis powers; +a fact they don't even bother to deny."</p> + +<p>Hall was puzzled by the report's lack of information on Gamburdo's link +to the Falange during the Spanish War. He remembered that picture of +Gamburdo at the Falange dinner held in San Hermano in 1936, the picture +he had seen in the files of the secret police in Havana. "How much do +you have on Gamburdo?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo?" Fielding yawned twice, stretched his arms. "Not as much as I +would like to have, Hall."</p> + +<p>"Oh." Hall told him about the picture.</p> + +<p>"I'm not surprised," Fielding said. "But it's really news to me. What do +you know that I should know?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much, I'm afraid. How about this doctor who arrived on my +plane, Varela Ansaldo?"</p> + +<p>"He's never been in San Hermano before."</p> + +<p>"Who sent for him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. <i>El Imparcial</i> has been giving Gamburdo the credit."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Hall. I think they might be trying to give Gamburdo +credit for something he doesn't deserve. <i>El Imparcial</i> is very much +pro-Gamburdo, you know."</p> + +<p>"Don't I know it! I used to see Fernandez in his Falange uniform in San +Sebastian."</p> + +<p>"He's no good."</p> + +<p>"Do you think his paper can be right about Ansaldo? I mean about his +being brought to San Hermano by Gamburdo."</p> + +<p>"Possibly I can find out."</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Fielding? What's your hunch?"</p> + +<p>"I have none, old man. But I can see that you have, and I can see what +it is. You think <i>El Imparcial</i> might for once be telling the truth."</p> + +<p>"Not the whole truth. I saw <i>El Imparcial</i>, too. It also said that +Varela Ansaldo was brought to San Hermano to <i>cure</i> Tabio."</p> + +<p>Fielding cocked his head, looked at Hall out of one eye. "And you think +Ansaldo was brought in to kill Professor Tabio?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I just don't know."</p> + +<p>"But you mean to find out?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Quién sabe?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I'll help you. I'll give you all the help I can."</p> + +<p>"But you think I'm nuts?"</p> + +<p>The Englishman hesitated for a long while. "Ah ... Frankly, old +man—well, damn it all, you could be wrong. But I'd never say you +were—<i>nuts</i> I believe is the word you used."</p> + +<p>"Thanks."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, it's been a busy day." Fielding put the letters back in the +folder, then shoved the folder into the portfolio and tied the strings. +"Unless I hear a motion to the contrary, I shall make a move to adjourn. +Ah, the delegate from North America bows. The Ayes have it. Session is +adjourned."</p> + +<p>He rose from the desk, put the portfolio back in the filing cabinet, +closed the drawer and tested the lock. "Suppose we meet again after I +have my dinner with Commander New at the Embassy tomorrow night. He's +our new Intelligence man. Understand he took quite a beating from the +Hun at Dunkirk."</p> + +<p>"Swell. Same place?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know yet, old man. Suppose I give you a ring." The Englishman +suddenly lapsed into a lisping, Castillian Spanish. "Señor Hall? Eh, +Señor Hall? This is Father Arupe. Bless you, my son. Would you care to +come to confession tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Then it will be Father Arupe on the phone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Señor. If I ask you to confession, it means this office in an +hour. If I suggest you attend mass in the morning, drive out to my +house. I'll write the address for you."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"Oh, just another word about tonight's reports. If you could help me +bring the facts about the waterfront to your government, I think it +would be most beneficial. Most beneficial, old man."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best."</p> + +<p>"I know I can count on you. Knew it before I ever laid eyes on you, +Hall. One of my associates can keep us both posted on the waterfront. +Name's Harrington. Grand chap, Harrington. Straight as a die, and +intelligent."</p> + +<p>Hall poured a cup full of cold coffee and swallowed it in a gulp. "God, +that's good coffee," he said.</p> + +<p>"How are you going back to the Bolivar?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a car waiting downstairs. The driver insisted upon waiting."</p> + +<p>"El Gran Pepe?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. I guess it is Big Joe." He described his driver. "And Souza says +he is very reliable."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is, old man. He is. You know, since they turned the bloody +lights down, it's worth your life to cross the streets at night. Awful +lot of traffic accidents and all that, you know. Nothing like a reliable +driver."</p> + +<p>"How about you, Fielding?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll phone for my own reliable driver. Or better yet, tell Pepe to +come back for me, will you, old man?"</p> + +<p>Hall rubbed the right side of his face. "Why don't you ride back with +me, and then continue on out to your house?"</p> + +<p>"No. It would be better if you left here alone."</p> + +<p>"But how about you?"</p> + +<p>"There's no danger, old man. No danger. Besides ..." Fielding reached +into his jacket pocket, took out a small black automatic. "She's loaded, +and I can shoot in the dark, if need be. My Betsy is all I need."</p> + +<p>"This is silly," Hall protested.</p> + +<p>"Go on, now, old man. No one is going to break in to the office at this +hour of the night. I'm in no danger at all."</p> + +<p>"If you say so." Hall got up. "Don't see me to the door. I know my way."</p> + +<p>The old man put his arm around Hall's shoulder. "We English," he said, +"we're an undemonstrative tribe. Take pride in our cold hearts. But +underneath the ice some of us have hearts. I'm glad to know you, Hall. +And I'm glad we had this little chat. Good night, and sleep well. You're +all in."</p> + +<p>"Good night, Fielding. And thanks. You're swell."</p> + +<p>Hall left the office, rode the elevator to the main floor. Outside, the +reliable driver was asleep at the wheel, his right hand under the white +chauffeur's cap which rested on his lap. Hall stood near the open +window, smiling sardonically at Big Pepe. O.K., pal, he thought, we'll +find out about you right now. He cleared his throat, suddenly barked, +"Arriba España!"</p> + +<p>Big Pepe awoke with a startled growl. The hand under the cap swung up +toward the window. It was clenched around a large nickeled revolver.</p> + +<p>"It's me, Pepe," Hall laughed. "Hall."</p> + +<p>The driver groaned, shoved the pistol into his trouser-pocket. Then he +also laughed. "Get in," he said. "Get in and thank your stars you're +still alive."</p> + +<p>Hall joined him in the front seat.</p> + +<p>"Arriba España," Pepe muttered, starting the car. "That is no joke in +the heart of any Delgado from the Asturias. That is an abomination."</p> + +<p>"You're an Asturiano?"</p> + +<p>"Look at me, <i>compañero</i>. Do I have the face of a Gallego? Do I have the +head of a Catalan? Do I have the eyes of a Madrileño or the soul of a +<i>puta</i>?"</p> + +<p>"You fought in the war against the fascists?"</p> + +<p>"Mother of God, he's asking me if I fought! Always until eternity they +will ask, Delgado, did you fight? And what will I say?"</p> + +<p>"Watch out!" Hall screamed. "You'll hit that pole!" He grabbed for the +wheel. Big Pepe's steel arm stopped him.</p> + +<p>"<i>De nada</i>," the driver laughed. "Didn't Fernando tell you I am a +reliable driver?" The car missed the pole by inches, whirled around a +corner on two wheels, and then rolled casually down the Avenida de la +Liberacion. Another mad turn, and they were at the Bolivar.</p> + +<p>"The Englishman, Fielding," Hall said. "He wants you to pick him up at +the office and take him home."</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno.</i>" Big Pepe put the car in gear.</p> + +<p>"How much do I owe you?" Hall shouted.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mañana, compañero, mañana.</i>" Big Pepe had to stick his head out of the +window and look back, while the car moved ahead, to answer Hall. One +more <i>mañana</i>, the American thought, and the reliable driver would drive +his car through a wall. He watched the car turn the corner on two +wheels.</p> + +<p>Souza was still on duty. He handed Hall the key to his room. "You look +very tired, Señor Hall," he said. "I hope you sleep well."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Good night, <i>amigo</i>." When he got to his room, he phoned +down to the desk.</p> + +<p>"I forgot," he said. "But if that <i>cabrón</i> of a waiter is still on duty, +could you send up a bottle of mineral water with the elevator operator?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. The operator is no <i>cabrón</i>."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. And by the way, didn't I meet you the last time I was in San +Hermano?"</p> + +<p>"No, Señor. But if you will pardon me for presuming, I feel in a sense +as if we are old friends, in a sense."</p> + +<p>"Old friends?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Señor. You see, I have read your book."</p> + +<p>"My book?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sí, su libro. Buenas noches, compañero.</i>"</p> + +<p>This time there was no confusion in Hall's mind. He knew which book +Fernando Souza meant. He went to sleep feeling less lonely than he had +in a long time.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_four" id="Chapter_four"></a><i>Chapter four</i></h2> + + +<p>The alarm in the pigskin traveling clock Bird had given Hall as a +going-away gift went on at eight. Hall shut it off, glanced at the +radium dial, and got out of bed. On the roof tops of the houses in old +San Hermano roosters were crowing. Outside, trolley bells clanged a +block away from the Bolivar. Hall took the half-emptied bottle of +carbonated water into the bathroom, poured it over his toothbrush, +sprinkled the wet brush with powder, and scrubbed his teeth. The charged +water filled his mouth with a vigorous foam. He rinsed his mouth with +the rest of the soda, bathed, shaved and dressed.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in his box at the desk. He handed the day clerk the +key and walked out to the street. At a little hole-in-the-wall stand on +Virtudes Street he bought a glass of mouth-puckering tamarind juice. A +few steps down the narrow street there was a newsstand. Hall bought two +morning papers, found a café where he had a cup of coffee with hot milk +and a toasted roll. He remained at his table in the soft morning sun, +reading the papers and smoking a cigar, until nearly ten o'clock.</p> + +<p>According to both papers, Ansaldo and Marina were to make a preliminary +examination of Tabio, and would then spend the rest of the day +consulting with San Hermano physicians who were attending the President. +There was no hint of what was actually wrong with the President, simply +a repetition of the old statement that Tabio's condition was still +grave.</p> + +<p>Jerry was on time for their breakfast appointment. She was wearing a +bright yellow suit of very thin cloth. "Hello," she said. "Still want to +be a tourist guide?"</p> + +<p>"More than ever." He caught himself wishing that this could be just an +ordinary date with a girl.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"You're scowling."</p> + +<p>"Sorry. My mind must have wandered. I'd never scowl at you."</p> + +<p>She smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. "I thought for a moment that I'd +pulled a boner. The suit isn't too loud, is it?"</p> + +<p>It was his turn to smile. "God, no," he laughed. "It's perfect. Very +hungry? Good. We're eating right here in the hotel."</p> + +<p>They took a table near a potted orange tree.</p> + +<p>"How do you say ham and eggs in Spanish?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"<i>Jamón y huevos.</i> Want some?"</p> + +<p>"Uh huh. But I want to order them myself."</p> + +<p>"O.K. Order some for me, too." Hall hissed for the waiter.</p> + +<p>"What's the idea of razzing the guy?"</p> + +<p>"Relax, that's the way you call a waiter."</p> + +<p>Jerry smiled at the waiter when he reached their table. With a childish +directness, she pointed first at Hall and then to herself. "<i>Jamón y +huevos</i>," she said.</p> + +<p>"That is all the Spanish the señorita speaks," Hall explained. "I think +we will have toast and coffee, too."</p> + +<p>"Well, well," the waiter said in accented English. "The lady speaks +good, no?"</p> + +<p>"No," Jerry laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," the waiter said, "today is very nice and sunny. Very +nice." He walked into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"I have a perfect itinerary," Hall said. "Old San Hermano first; that's +the historic colonial part of the city. Then, at noon, we take the +funicular railway to the top of the world for lunch. And after +that—well, well, well, as the waiter said."</p> + +<p>They walked about San Hermano all morning. Hall showed her through the +old fortress of the Duke of La Runa, which the government had restored +after Segura was overthrown, told her about the early colonial history +of the city. They sat on the old sea wall for a few minutes, while Hall +pointed out the Moorish and Spanish details of the stone houses along +the sea drive above the wharves. The youngest of the houses was a +century old; the tile friezes along their bellies had all been imported +from Spain in sailing ships. Jerry watched the sun do magic tricks of +blue and purple on the surface of the houses. They wandered through the +old market places, deserted that day, but colored by the little stalls +along the sidewalks. Hall bought a large spray of gardenias for the girl +from an itinerant vendor.</p> + +<p>"Where are those beaten-silver things you told me about?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Later," he said. "There's plenty of time for that."</p> + +<p>"Where do we go now?" Jerry asked. "My feet are killing me."</p> + +<p>"From now on we ride." He found a taxi parked near the Cathedral, and +they rode to the funicular railway terminal at the base of Monte Azul. +He told her how the railway was built by Segura, as they rode. "But it +was when the Tabio junta threw the Seguristas out that the damned cable +cars meant anything to the people of the country themselves. You see, +Jerry, Segura gave the concession on top of the mountain to one of his +thugs. The new regime opened it up to the little guys. And wait till you +see what they did to the grounds."</p> + +<p>They shared the cable car with an old water colorist, and two other +young couples. "My God," Jerry exclaimed, when she saw the route the +cars followed, "it's like climbing hand over hand up a sheer cliff!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. It's perfectly safe. In a way, though, I'm sorry this is +such a clear day. On a cloudy day, the tracks just vanish into the soup +up there, and you feel that you are being towed into the clouds."</p> + +<p>The cars climbed for five miles, creaking, whining, grunting, but +steadily pushing on toward the peak. From the opened windows, Jerry +could see the Moorish villas at the base of the mountain, then their +red-tiled roofs, then the miles of scraggly wild orange trees. The +sweet, heavy odors of their blossoms filled the car.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look," she said, "the town is getting smaller. And the sea is +growing bluer."</p> + +<p>"Wait until we get off," he smiled. "Then you'll really see something."</p> + +<p>The old artist took out a sketch pad, studied Jerry's excited face, and +made some quick strokes with a charcoal stick. Hall winked at the old +man. "<i>Hola, viejo. Qué pasa?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>La mujer es muy bonita.</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Muchas gracias</i>, Señor. <i>Es verdad.</i>"</p> + +<p>"What are you saying to him?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>"He said you are very beautiful and I said that's the Lord's gospel +truth. He's sketching you, I think."</p> + +<p>"Can we buy it if it's good?"</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to him later. Up there."</p> + +<p>The car stopped at the terminal on the man-made plateau about a thousand +feet from the actual tip of Monte Azul. A wooden rail ran along the edge +of the plateau for about a quarter of a mile. Within the rail was the +funicular terminal, a souvenir stand, a tiny post office, and a large +open-air restaurant.</p> + +<p>"Let's eat," Hall said. "You get hungry as a horse up there."</p> + +<p>They took a table with an enameled orange top near the rail. Large +barbecue pits hugged the mountain side of the restaurant, and under a +shed roof three cooks presided over a row of steaming pots. From their +table, they could see the mile-deep belt of mountain flowers which had +been planted in the days of the dictators and expanded by the democrats. +There were flowers of every shape and color, but orange was the color +which spoke most frequently in the cultivated beds. Below the flowers, +the mountainside seemed to be daubed with various shades of green and +brown. "But usually," Hall said, "the mountain is blue. Almost as blue +as the sea."</p> + +<p>Jerry looked down at the sea. "I've never seen such a deep blue," she +said.</p> + +<p>"I know. This is the bluest water in the world." He hissed for a waiter. +"I'm going to order a hell of a meal, young lady. A side of barbecued +beef and some corn cakes the like of which you never tasted and—just +trust my judgment."</p> + +<p>"Can we get drinks here?"</p> + +<p>"They have a white wine that beats anything in France."</p> + +<p>The food was good and the wine was potent. When they were done eating, +Jerry wanted more wine. "No more wine," Hall smiled. "Nibble on this +cheese, and while you're nibbling I'm going to order a punch I've just +composed in honor of this day. Let's call it Punch <i>Para Las Mujeres +Bonitas</i>."</p> + +<p>"Whatever that means," Jerry said, dreamily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's wonderful. Black rum and passion-flower juice and tamarinda +and wild cherry juice and—just wait. I'll be right back." He walked +across the plateau to the outdoor bar and had a long discussion with the +attendants.</p> + +<p>Jerry was staring into the sea when he returned. "You know?" she sighed.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I was just thinking that I've been looking at the sea and not +thinking at all."</p> + +<p>"Cigarette?"</p> + +<p>"Uh huh. Thanks for taking me up here. It reminds me of something nice, +but I can't think of what."</p> + +<p>"I know," Hall said. "The minute you get here for the first time you +feel as if you've known this place all your life."</p> + +<p>The waiter brought a pitcher of scarlet punch and two tall glasses to +the table. Hall paid the check, and added a package of American +cigarettes to his tip.</p> + +<p>He filled the two glasses, tried a sip from his before handing one glass +to the girl. "Let's see how this strikes you," he smiled.</p> + +<p>"It's delicious!"</p> + +<p>"Finish it and then try walking," Hall said, dryly.</p> + +<p>"We'll try walking later." They finished the punch in the pitcher, and +then Jerry looked at her face in a pocket mirror.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Hall," she sighed. "It ate away what was left of my lipstick +and I think it gave me a red nose and I suppose I should powder and +paint but I won't."</p> + +<p>"Madam," he said, "you are under the influence."</p> + +<p>"I may be high, sir, but I'm not drunk."</p> + +<p>Hall got up and took her arm. "Shame on you, nurse," he said. "There's +still a thousand sights to see up here."</p> + +<p>"Lead on," she commanded. "We'll see who's potted."</p> + +<p>Hall pointed to the edge of the restaurant. There was a mountain path at +that end, a graveled path leading into a park of streams and cypresses. +They followed this path until the forest closed in around them, and they +were alone.</p> + +<p>"My feet," Jerry said. "These shoes were not meant for serious mountain +climbing."</p> + +<p>"My lady." Hall spread his brown gabardine jacket in the moss bank +adjacent to a small stream. She took off her shoes and stretched out on +the jacket, her hands clasped under her head.</p> + +<p>"You know," she said, "if I weren't so full of food I'd take my +stockings off and dip my feet in the creek. I just haven't the strength +to move."</p> + +<p>Hall lit a cigarette, put it in the girl's mouth. "If you ever dipped +one of your dainty gringo toes in this burbling frigidaire," he said, +"they'd hear your screams twelve miles out at sea."</p> + +<p>Jerry sat up and hummed the tune of "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf." +She took off her stockings, started to edge down toward the stream. +"Here, help me up." She extended a hand to Hall, who pulled her to her +feet. "I'm going wading."</p> + +<p>There was no scream when Jerry stepped into the water. Her breath just +stopped. She yanked her foot out of the stream as if it were a blazing +inferno, hopped around on the dry foot with tears in her eyes, and then +lay down on the jacket.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway," she said, when she could catch her breath, "I didn't +scream."</p> + +<p>"No. You were brave." He took out a large handkerchief, started to rub +the foot which had been in the water.</p> + +<p>"I never thought I'd wind up here when I left New York," she said.</p> + +<p>"When do you go to work?"</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow, I guess. The President is a pretty sick patient."</p> + +<p>"Does Ansaldo think he can pull him through?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't say."</p> + +<p>"Did he find out what's the matter with Tabio?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. That's what he's doing today."</p> + +<p>Hall wanted to ask her further questions about Ansaldo, but he was +afraid to betray his interest too openly. "Let's cut it out," he +laughed. "This is a party, and we're talking shop."</p> + +<p>The girl sighed in contentment. "Oh, that's nice," she murmured. "I +don't care what we talk about, as long as we stay here."</p> + +<p>"Like it here?"</p> + +<p>"Right now, I wish I could stay here forever." She had her hands clasped +under her head, was talking to the tips of the cypresses as well as to +Hall.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you?"</p> + +<p>"It's like Shangri-La," she said. "We should both be two centuries old. +How old are you, Hall?"</p> + +<p>"Thirty-six."</p> + +<p>"I'm twenty-eight. Honest. Not twenty-one. Twenty-eight. In two years +I'll be over the borderline. Then I'll be an old lady. But right now I'm +not going to lie about my age."</p> + +<p>"Right now I don't think you could tell a lie. Not even a white lie."</p> + +<p>"No fair, Hall. First you get me drunk—only I'm not high any more—then +you take me to Shangri-La. Can I call you Matthew? Or is it Matty or +Matt the women in your life call you?"</p> + +<p>"My friends call me Matt."</p> + +<p>"My friends! There's no Mrs. Matt?"</p> + +<p>"No. Never has been."</p> + +<p>"I had a husband, once. Only I divorced him and became a nurse."</p> + +<p>"That when you left Ohio? Or was it Indiana?"</p> + +<p>Jerry turned her eyes from the cypresses and looked at Hall, who sat at +her side, his face over hers. "Ohio," she said. "How did you know?"</p> + +<p>Hall bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She neither resisted +nor returned his kiss. "You sweet dope," he said. "I'm a Buckeye myself. +Cleveland."</p> + +<p>"I'm from Columbus."</p> + +<p>"Pleased to know you, Miss Columbus. Did you know you have green eyes +and there are little gold stars in each eye?"</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>"Nope. Sweet dope. No one ever told you."</p> + +<p>"He calls me names!" Jerry sat up and put her arms around Hall's neck. +"He calls me names." She put her slightly opened mouth against his lips +and pulled him closer, and together they sank to the ground. They lay +locked in the one kiss, the girl's full breasts pressing against Hall's +chest.</p> + +<p>"Don't," she whispered, "please. Ah, don't. Ah, Matt. Darling."</p> + +<p>He found her lips again. They were trembling, and he could feel the +tremors which started in the pit of her stomach and rose to her +shoulders. "Please, Matt," she broke from his grip and turned her face +to the ground. "Darling," she said, biting then kissing his hand. He put +his arm around her and kissed the back of her neck. She shuddered +deliciously. "Let's get up," she said.</p> + +<p>"We're alone here," he said.</p> + +<p>She smiled and kissed his hand. "I'm getting up," she said. "Let me sit +up, Matt."</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said. He sat up with her. She ran her hand lightly over his +face, brushing the scars, the flatness of his nose.</p> + +<p>"Gorilla," she said, and she kissed him softly on the mouth. "You tore +off one of my buttons, you ape."</p> + +<p>"Hello, Miss Columbus," he said, speaking with a Spanish accent. "It is +a very nice day today. Very sunny."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"Still want to stay here forever?"</p> + +<p>"Uh huh. Do I look too messy?"</p> + +<p>"No. Your hair could stand some combing."</p> + +<p>"Will you get me some more of that punch?"</p> + +<p>When she had combed her hair, they stood up and he took her hand and +they walked back along the graveled path.</p> + +<p>"Can we phone to town from here?" she asked. "Doctor wanted me to check +in at about five."</p> + +<p>"Going to work?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know yet."</p> + +<p>They had their punch. The light danced in Jerry's hair, gave it the same +orange tint which dominated the flower beds. "I forgot to tell you," +Hall said. "You're beautiful."</p> + +<p>Jerry swirled the scarlet drops on the bottom of her glass. "You don't +know a thing about me," she said.</p> + +<p>"What should I know?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. But can I tell you, anyway? I want to, Matt."</p> + +<p>"I want to know."</p> + +<p>Jerry sighed. "I told you I was married before, didn't I? It didn't +take."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"Don't be. I'm not really from Columbus. That is, my home town is nearer +Columbus than to any other city, but it's just a hick village in the +sticks." She told her story in very few words. High school, and then +three years at the State University, and then marriage to a small-town +high-school principal some years older than herself. After five years of +small-town married life, Jerry came into a small inheritance, left the +schoolmaster, and went back to get her degree. "I wanted to study +medicine," she said, "but I didn't have enough money, so I took up +nursing instead. The idea was to earn enough as a nurse to go back to +medical school."</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"New York happened. I couldn't take hospital regimentation, and some of +the doctors were so anxious to sleep with me that they got me some snap +jobs. You know, sitting up with rich lushes and hanging onto the girdles +of deserted dowagers who wanted to jump out of windows and handing the +right scalpel to society surgeons while they carved out a million-dollar +gut."</p> + +<p>"It must have paid well."</p> + +<p>"Too well."</p> + +<p>"And so you became a glamour girl."</p> + +<p>"That's a pretty cruel way to put it, Matt. I'm not really a dope, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"I guess I just stopped thinking because I was afraid to think."</p> + +<p>"Where does Ansaldo fit into the picture?"</p> + +<p>"I came with him because I admire his skill as a doctor. I can learn +things by working with him. He's fantastically good, Matt."</p> + +<p>"How long do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"Not long. He came to New York about six months ago to operate on a +drunk who'd been my patient for months. The patient had fallen down a +flight of stairs on my day off. Ansaldo invited me to be one of the +nurses when he operated on the patient's spine. Are you interested in +operations?"</p> + +<p>"A little. Why?"</p> + +<p>"It was amazing. I thought I had seen some good surgeons at work. But +Ansaldo is more than good, Matt. He's great. After that first operation, +I was his nurse for all of his New York operations. And naturally, I +jumped at the chance to come along. I'm a perfectionist, Matt. Some day, +some day soon I hope, I'm going to go back to medical school. I've been +saving every spare penny I could. And what I'm learning from Ansaldo +couldn't be taught in any school."</p> + +<p>"You amaze me," he said, honestly. It was hard to doubt her. He prodded +her for details of Ansaldo's skill. She answered him earnestly, and with +increased enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"But wait," she protested, finally. "I don't see why I should be telling +all about myself. I haven't talked like this to any man for years."</p> + +<p>"I haven't listened like this for just as long," he laughed.</p> + +<p>"But it's not good, I know," she said, her voice abruptly breaking. +There were tears in her eyes, and she turned away. "I've gone and made a +fool of myself."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I know," she said. "You probably have a wife and nine kids in New York. +I bet you carry their pictures in your wallet."</p> + +<p>"Do I?" Hall handed his wallet to Jerry. "Look for yourself. Take out +every picture."</p> + +<p>There were three photos in all. The first was of Bird, his wife and +their baby. "My publisher," he explained.</p> + +<p>There was a sepia photo of Hall pointing the lens of a camera at a bomb +crater in Madrid. "London?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>"Yeah," he said. "London."</p> + +<p>The remaining photo showed Hall talking to an aged couple on a road +packed with refugees. "France?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>Hall shook his head. "No. Belgium." Again he lied. The picture had been +taken in Spain.</p> + +<p>"Don't hurt me, Matt," the girl said. She was dry-eyed now, but +saddened. "Don't hurt me later."</p> + +<p>"I won't hurt you," he said. He wondered at that moment if he would be +able to avoid hurting her.</p> + +<p>"Are you really alone?"</p> + +<p>"Alone?" He did not laugh. "God! I'm the loneliest sonofabitch in the +whole world."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled again. "I have half a mind to believe you," she said. +"Shall we get started back?"</p> + +<p>"O.K. It's getting late. Have dinner with me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, yet. Would you call the hotel and ask if there are any +messages for me?"</p> + +<p>"There's a phone in the souvenir stand."</p> + +<p>The girl bought a batch of picture sets while Hall was on the phone. "Do +we eat?" she asked when he came out of the booth.</p> + +<p>"No. They want you in the Marti Memorial Lab at the University at +seven."</p> + +<p>"Shucks."</p> + +<p>"I phoned for a driver to meet us at the bottom in twenty minutes. We +still have time for a drive around the nicer parts of New San Hermano."</p> + +<p>They went to the terminal to wait for their car. The ticket agent +glanced at Jerry and then he reached under his counter and brought up a +large envelope. "Señor," he said, "the painter left this for the lady." +It was the sketch of Jerry, wide-eyed and happy as the car climbed Monte +Azul. In the lower right-hand corner was an inscription Hall translated +for her. "To a charming visitor—a memento of her visit to our free +city. Horacio."</p> + +<p>"It was sweet of the old man," Jerry said. "Tell the guy to thank him +for me, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I already did. But this is fantastic. An original Horacio water color +is worth a baby fortune. This sketch is valuable, Jerry."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you recognize him?"</p> + +<p>"Never saw him before in my life."</p> + +<p>Big Pepe was waiting for them with his LaSalle when they reached the +bottom of Monte Azul. "How good are you with tourists?" Hall asked. "I +want to show the señorita New San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"I can drive you with my eyes closed," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>Hall laughed. "Keep your eyes open. And your four wheels on the +pavement," he said. "Or I'll kill you with your own gun."</p> + +<p>"I have no fears of you," Pepe said. "Get in."</p> + +<p>Hall held onto Jerry's hand as he described the sights that rolled by +their window. Big Pepe handled the car like a model tourists' chauffeur. +It rolled along smoothly, not too quickly, and when Hall tapped him on +the shoulder he would stop, the motor running softly while Hall made his +explanations to Jerry.</p> + +<p>At six, Hall and Jerry agreed to have one last drink before parting for +the night. "Let's ask the driver, too," he suggested. "He's a nice guy."</p> + +<p>"Sure. So are you."</p> + +<p>"Pepe, how about joining us for a drink at that bar near the Libro del +Mundo?"</p> + +<p>Pepe turned around and grinned at them. "With many thanks," he said. "I +will join you."</p> + +<p>"If we don't all join our ancestors first. Watch the road, you Asturian +murderer!"</p> + +<p>"I take it," Jerry laughed, "you were telling him to keep his eyes on +the wheel."</p> + +<p>"You're learning the language, <i>muchachita</i>."</p> + +<p>They found an empty table on the sidewalk. Hall and Jerry had Scotch and +sodas. Big Pepe ordered coffee. He was very happy to be with them. He +beamed continuously at the girl, and to Hall he swore that never had he +seen a more magnificent woman. "Of course," he purred, "she could stand +more meat, but for a gringo, she is most magnificent."</p> + +<p>"He says you're a sight for sore eyes," Hall translated.</p> + +<p>"Then tell him to look at my face."</p> + +<p>"The woman thanks you," Hall said.</p> + +<p>Jerry pointed to the bar. "There's the little Dutchman," she said.</p> + +<p>Androtten was standing alone at the bar, a wine glass in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I'll call him over. He's a lonesome bastard too."</p> + +<p>The Dutchman was delighted to see Hall. "This is indeed a damn +surprise," he said. "Join you at the table? Happy as hell to join you, +Mr. Hall. Ah, the nurse of the great doctor. Tell me, nurse, do you +think the doctor could cure my rheumatism?" This, he made clear by his +gesture of holding his side in mock agony and groaning, was meant to be +a joke.</p> + +<p>Hall translated the joke for Pepe.</p> + +<p>The driver nodded. "I understood most of it," he admitted. "One doesn't +drive American tourists for a century and learn nothing."</p> + +<p>"Aha," Hall said. "Pepe knows a few words of English, it develops."</p> + +<p>Jerry turned to the driver, smiled sweetly at him. "Tell me," she said, +"did you ever have your eyes scratched out?"</p> + +<p>Pepe grinned, shrugged his huge shoulders. "Did the señorita say I have +nice eyes?" he asked Hall.</p> + +<p>"No, Pepe. She said your eyes can bring you trouble."</p> + +<p>The Asturiano closed his eyes and drew his finger across his throat, +making the appropriate sounds. "I understand perfectly," he said.</p> + +<p>"Let's sit down one of these days," Androtten said to Hall. "I am +willing as hell to give you the damn story of what the Japanese did to +me in Java, if you are still damn willing to listen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am. Anxious as hell, Mr. Androtten." He explained to Big Pepe +what had happened to the little man. Pepe's face instantly reflected his +deep sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I hate to break up this nice party," Jerry said, "but I have to go to +work."</p> + +<p>"Can we take you back to the Bolivar, Mr. Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"Not just yet. I have a damn appointment here at seven."</p> + +<p>Hall put some money on the table and followed Jerry to the car. "I +forgot to tell you," he said. "There'll be a government car waiting to +pick you up at ten to seven."</p> + +<p>"The poor man," Pepe sighed. "The cruel Japanese!"</p> + +<p>"It's been a wonderful day, Matt."</p> + +<p>"When do we repeat it?"</p> + +<p>"Can't tell. I'll leave a message for you tonight when I get back."</p> + +<p>Hall ate alone after Jerry went to the laboratory, and then wandered +around the dark streets of the waterfront, thinking how he could +organize his work. That was the damned job, always. Planning your moves. +Deciding exactly what it is you're after and then organizing a method of +getting it. The letter to Santiago. That was a good start. With luck, +there would be an answer in a week. But was a week too far away? How +sick was Tabio, and could he hold out for another week? And anyway, was +Ansaldo a fascist?</p> + +<p>The face of Varela Ansaldo would not leave Hall's mind. Maybe Fielding +could find out something, anything. At this moment, Fielding was +probably eating a little crow with his dinner at the British Embassy. +But would they tell Fielding anything? Did they know anything? And who +the hell was Fielding and how in hell did he get the dope in his +reports? <i>No, my fine impertinent friend, I am not a British agent.</i> He +was the father of Sergeant Harold Fielding who hopped out of the wicker +pony cart and picked up one of those thin rifles and died at Jarama.</p> + +<p>Santiago's answer. There was the best bet. If the boys in Havana had no +dope, at least they would tell him who to contact in San Hermano, and it +was a safe bet that when Pedro de Aragon (or would it be a love letter +from Maria de Aragon?) wrote, the letter would lead him to someone who +would know Souza and Pepe Delgado. They were O.K., but just a little +cautious, and this business of squiring Ansaldo's nurse would not set +too well with them unless Ansaldo was not Gamburdo's man at all.</p> + +<p>Hall was turning a corner when he first noticed the little man walking +in the shadows of the opposite sidewalk. A little man in a black suit +and a dirty stiff straw hat. Hall slowed his steps, waited for the man +in the straw hat to walk closer to the yellowed street light. The man +slowed down, too. Hall kept walking. He headed for an avenue, found a +cab, told the driver to take him to La Perrichola. He looked around to +see the little man get into the other cab at the stand.</p> + +<p>"I changed my mind," Hall told the driver. "Take me to the Ritz +instead."</p> + +<p>He walked slowly into the lobby of the Ritz. It was one of the more +modern hotels in New San Hermano. He found a phone booth and called +Souza. "Where's Pepe?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Right outside. Do you need him?"</p> + +<p>"Very much. Tell him to pick me up near the back entrance of the Ritz. +I'm too drunk to trust a strange driver."</p> + +<p>Souza laughed. "You Americans," he said. "Pepe will be there in five +minutes."</p> + +<p>Hall went to the bar, had a short brandy. The little man was sitting +behind a potted palm near the street doorway, his face buried in a +magazine. Hall looked at his watch and walked to the elevator. "Sixth +floor," he said.</p> + +<p>He walked through the sixth-floor hall, took the back stairs to the +fourth floor, and then looked out of the window at the landing. Big +Pepe's LaSalle was parked near the servants' door. Hall listened for the +sound of footsteps on the stairs above him. Quietly, he walked to the +basement, nodded at a waiter relaxing on a bench near the door, and +walked slowly to the LaSalle.</p> + +<p>"<i>Qué pasa?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Trouble. Drive a few blocks down and then come back slowly toward the +front of the hotel."</p> + +<p>"Sit with me," Pepe said. He tapped the pistol in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"No." Hall got down on the floor of the back part of the car. "And take +your white hat off."</p> + +<p>The car shot down three streets, then Pepe turned the corner, rode a +block, and started to crawl along the street on which the main entrance +of the Ritz opened. "Souza said you were in trouble," Pepe said. "He +says you are not a <i>borracho</i>."</p> + +<p>"I was followed. Watch for a little man in a black suit and a stiff +straw hat. Park a block from the entrance to the Ritz and keep your +motor running."</p> + +<p>"<i>Claro.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I think he tried to sell me perfume this afternoon when I was walking +with that nurse."</p> + +<p>"She needs no perfume," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"She is not my woman," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Did you see that other woman who came with the doctor?" Big Pepe +snorted violently. "I hate <i>maricones</i>," he said.</p> + +<p>"I hate them too, Pepe. Did you know that Franco is also a homosexual?"</p> + +<p>"They are all <i>maricones</i>. Hitler, Franco. They are all the same."</p> + +<p>"<i>Putas y maricones</i>," Hall said. "<i>La Nueva España!</i>"</p> + +<p>Big Pepe cleared his throat and spat out of the window. "Arriba España." +Hall could feel the low, toneless laugh in the Asturian's throat.</p> + +<p>"I think I see your dog," Pepe said. He described him for Hall. "He acts +as if he lost something."</p> + +<p>"Me."</p> + +<p>"Falangista?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Ever seen him before?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? <i>Mira!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I can't look. What's he doing?"</p> + +<p>"Hiring a car."</p> + +<p>"Follow him. But ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mira, chico</i>, that I can do with my eyes closed. And he won't know me +for the offal on the streets."</p> + +<p>"Don't lose him."</p> + +<p>"I'd sooner lose my <i>cojones</i>." He started the car, slowly. "I am +magnificent at this," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"During the war I did this all the time."</p> + +<p>"When he stops, watch where he goes but don't stop yourself. Keep going +after he stops."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," Pepe said. "I am not new at this."</p> + +<p>"Very good."</p> + +<p>"That girl with the nice hair, <i>compañero</i>. Why don't you take her into +your bed some night? I think she would be very good there."</p> + +<p>"Forget the girl."</p> + +<p>"That will be very hard."</p> + +<p>"Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"Still following the little dog. We're moving toward the Plaza."</p> + +<p>"Pepe. The Englishman's son. Did you know him?"</p> + +<p>"He was very young. I only saw him once. He was very brave, <i>compañero</i>. +The Centro Asturiano sent flowers to his father when the boy was killed. +He died for the Republic, you know." Pepe slowed the car.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"He's stopping. We're on the Calle de Virtudes. He's going into a café. +I'll keep going."</p> + +<p>The car covered another block. Pepe turned the corner and stopped. "You +can sit up now," he said.</p> + +<p>Hall saw where he was. "Which bar did he go to?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"El Siglo. There's another café next door. You can sit behind a hedge at +a table there and watch El Siglo. I have done it many times. I'll park +the car across the street and watch for you."</p> + +<p>"Do you think we can do this alone?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"What do we have to do?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? It is the little dog's next move."</p> + +<p>"But could you get some friends now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. How many?"</p> + +<p>"A few. I'll keep an eye on El Siglo."</p> + +<p>"All right," Pepe said. "But we shouldn't lose the little dog."</p> + +<p>"That is a chance we must take. If we lose him tonight, we will follow +him tomorrow. He will be in my footsteps again."</p> + +<p>"That is true," Big Pepe said. "I will be back soon." He drove off down +the back street.</p> + +<p>Like El Siglo, the café where Hall found a table near a boxed hedge on +the sidewalk faced the entrance to the apartments of the Presidencia. +The lights were on again in the fourth floor. Hall wondered if the +doctors were poking poor Tabio at that moment.</p> + +<p>He ordered a pot of coffee and sat back to watch the entrance to El +Siglo. A newsboy sold him a late paper, but Hall gave up trying to read +it after a few minutes. He bought a box of wax matches and some cigars, +turning his back to El Siglo when the tip of his first match flared into +flame.</p> + +<p>Less than ten minutes after Hall started his vigil, the little man in +the straw hat walked out of El Siglo and sat down behind the wheel of a +Renault parked at the curb. He sat alone in the car, his face turned +toward the Presidencia. Hall looked nervously up the street for a sign +of Big Pepe. He jotted the license number of the Renault down on the +margin of his newspaper.</p> + +<p>There was still no sign of Big Pepe.</p> + +<p>The man in the Renault pressed the squeaky rubber horn twice. Another +man walked quickly out of El Siglo and got into the back seat of the +Renault. Hall squirmed in his chair and looked vainly for Big Pepe. The +passenger was Wilhelm Androtten.</p> + +<p>Hall watched the Renault start to move up the Plaza. It rode around the +entire Plaza, and, as it started to pass the cafés again, Hall saw that +it was following a black limousine which had just left the Presidencia +after picking up two passengers.</p> + +<p>The black limousine was doing about thirty, picking its way out +carefully in the half darkness of the old city. As it passed directly in +front of Hall's table, one of the people sitting in the back seat lit a +cigarette. In the light of the match, Hall could see that it was Varela +Ansaldo.</p> + +<p>He had to wait another ten minutes for Big Pepe, who returned with two +young men. "We lost him, Pepe."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hijo de puta!</i> I told you."</p> + +<p>"Relax. I know who he works for. We can find them on our own terms now. +I saw them."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>Hall looked at the two young men sharing the front seat with Pepe. +"Introduce me to your friends," he said.</p> + +<p>Big Pepe grinned. "That is your right," he said. "This is my nephew +Miguelito, and this is Juan Antonio Martinez. They're school teachers." +The last he said with almost boastful pride.</p> + +<p>The teachers were both slim lads in their early twenties. Hall shook +their hands and got into the back of the car. "Let's drive out to the +beach and talk," he said.</p> + +<p>"No," Miguelito said. "It would not be wise. There are too many +strangers there."</p> + +<p>His colleague grunted. "Your pistol, Miguelito," he said. "Take it out +of your pocket. It is digging a new hole in my arse."</p> + +<p>"They talk that way all the time," Pepe said, tolerantly. "But they are +very educated."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry if I talk like a worker," Juan Antonio said to Pepe. "My +father was only a miner. I apologize, Your Eminence."</p> + +<p>"He is joking," Pepe said. "Miguelito, you are a Bachelor of Arts. Tell +me, do workers joke, too?"</p> + +<p>"Quiet, both of you," Miguelito said. "<i>Compañero</i> Hall will think we're +all crazy."</p> + +<p>Hall laughed. "I've seen boys like you before," he said.</p> + +<p>"We were too young to go then," Juan Antonio said. "But if they try it +here, the streets of San Hermano will run with blood before we let the +fascists win."</p> + +<p>"Juan Antonio is a Communist," Big Pepe said.</p> + +<p>The boy did not deny it. "Remember my words," he said, "the flag of the +Falange will never fly over San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Not if we are still alive," Miguelito added.</p> + +<p>"Will you listen to these children?" Pepe asked. "As soon as you turn +your back they put on the <i>pantalones</i> and make the noises of a man!"</p> + +<p>"This little dog of a fascist who followed you," Miguelito said, "who is +his superior?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, <i>compañeros</i>. It could be Hitler...."</p> + +<p>"It could be Franco," Big Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"He said that," Juan Antonio said. "He said Hitler, didn't he, +Miguelito?"</p> + +<p>"Quiet," Miguelito said. "This is no joke. You said you saw him with his +superior?"</p> + +<p>Hall smiled at the boy. "Listen, <i>chico</i>," he said, "men with more +pistols than you have tried to put words in my mouth before. All they +got from my mouth was my spit."</p> + +<p>"<i>Olé!</i>" Juan Antonio punched Miguelito's shoulders with glee.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Souza was reading a fat book at his desk when Hall returned to the +Bolivar. He greeted the boys with familiarity. "They are reliable," he +said after they left.</p> + +<p>"I know. I was sober when I called you before. But tonight your reliable +boys nearly drank me under the table trying to find out who was with the +little dog."</p> + +<p>"The one who followed you to the Ritz?"</p> + +<p>"The same one. They also told me that you are President of the Hotel +Clerks Union."</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"Got a cigarette? Thanks. No, I've got matches." Hall looked around to +see if he and Souza were alone. Quietly, he said, "Androtten was the man +I saw with the little dog."</p> + +<p>Souza's face grew grimmer. "I don't think I am surprised."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But I don't trust him."</p> + +<p>"Maybe this will help you." Hall handed him the license number of the +Renault. "It's the number of the car they used."</p> + +<p>"It will help," Souza said.</p> + +<p>"What time did Ansaldo get in?"</p> + +<p>"He did not get in, yet. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Androtten was following his car, I think."</p> + +<p>"Androtten is out, too."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we have something."</p> + +<p>"You have a message in your box." It was a note from Jerry. She was +going to work all day and had to attend a party at the American Embassy +in the evening. But she would call him in the morning.</p> + +<p>"I am watching her," Hall explained.</p> + +<p>The trace of a smile flitted across the long face of the night clerk. "I +know," he said. "Pepe told me."</p> + +<p>"I'll kill him," Hall laughed. "I'm going to bed. Leave a note in my box +about when they get in."</p> + +<p>He went to his room. When he turned on the light, he saw that a note had +been slipped under his door. It was from Jerry. "Thanks for a lovely +day," it said. "I will call you before I leave for the lab."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_five" id="Chapter_five"></a><i>Chapter five</i></h2> + + +<p>He was dreaming of the crowds in the bull ring at Badajoz, but there +were no bulls on the sand. It was the day of the massacre, the day when +the Portuguese troops herded the <i>milicianos</i> and their families and +handed them over to the waiting <i>franquistas</i> on the Spanish side of the +border. It was the day the <i>franquistas</i> shoved the Republican families +on to the sand of the bull ring at Badajoz and set up the heavy machine +guns in the boxes and fired away until every human being on the field +lay choking and dying in his own blood. In his dream Hall saw grand +ladies in mantillas in the boxes that day tossing roses and perfumed +kerchiefs to the animals at the machine guns, and in his dream he even +knew that the perfume on the kerchiefs came from a certain shop in +Barcelona.</p> + +<p>Then Hall spotted a crowd of German and Spanish officers in another box +and he leaped at them, his right hand gripping the ugly clasp knife in +his pocket. There were nine officers in the box, four of them Nazis and +one a gaudy Italian colonel and the rest were Spanish fascists in capes +and one of them wore a Requete beret, although his cape carried the +golden embroidered five arrows of the Falange. They began to flee from +their box in a panic, but Hall managed to get a quick look at one of the +Spaniards and then flung his knife at the Spaniard's retreating back. +Then the bells began to toll in the churches and carabineros left their +machine guns and ran barehanded after Hall but the clang of the bells +started to blot everything out and the church bells of Badajoz blended +into the steady drone of a smaller bell in Hall's ears and he awoke to +the phone bell which had abruptly brought him back to San Hermano.</p> + +<p>"Did I wake you up?" It was Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Yeah. What time?"</p> + +<p>"Stop groaning. Wash your face and I'll call you back in five minutes."</p> + +<p>Later, she asked him if he had been having a bad dream and he said it +had been closer to a nightmare in technicolor. "About the war?" she +asked, and he said it had been about the war.</p> + +<p>"Darling," she said, "I wish you never have another nightmare as long as +you live."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said. "Do we have breakfast together?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm leaving with the doctors in a few minutes. Work all day."</p> + +<p>"Dinner tonight?"</p> + +<p>"That's out, too. I have to go to a party with the doctors at the +American Embassy."</p> + +<p>"Good. I was invited, too. I'll see you there." There was a long pause +at the girl's end of the wire, and Hall said, "Jerry? Are you still +listening?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," she said.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. You're a darling. I've got to hang up now. I've got to be out +of here in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"O.K.," he said. "See you tonight."</p> + +<p>He reached the lobby at half-past eight. There was no message in his +box, and he could see that Jerry's key was already in the cubicle. "I'll +be in the dining room if anyone phones," he told the day clerk. He +bought a paper from a boy standing near the entrance of the Bolivar and +went in to eat.</p> + +<p>Hall was having his second cup of coffee when Androtten entered the +dining room. The little Dutchman smiled happily when he spotted Hall.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, good morning," he shouted. "Hell of a nice day, no?"</p> + +<p>"It's nice and sunny," Hall said. "Eating alone? Take a chair."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Mr. Hall. Damn nice of you."</p> + +<p>Hall wanted to shove the incongruous hells and damns down the pink face +of the Hollander. "Not at all," he said. "I like company." But the +beaming Dutchman brought goose pimples to his spine this morning.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," Hall said, rising. "I'll be back in a minute."</p> + +<p>He went to the desk, picked up a pad of cable blanks and an indelible +pencil. Then, at the table, he sat with pencil poised over the pad and +smiled at Androtten. "Mine is a funny business," he said. "When you get +to the capital of a country you can't go right to work, you know. Far +from it, Androtten. First you smooch around the town like a prowler, +talking to taxi drivers and bartenders and ..."</p> + +<p>"Pardon my ignorance, Mr. Hall. But <i>smooch</i>? Is it a real word or +journalists' slang?"</p> + +<p>"I guess you'd call it slang. I mean you have to mingle with the little +people to get an idea of the currents."</p> + +<p>"And when you get this idea?"</p> + +<p>"When you get the idea, you can go to work." Hall wrote the name and +address of the editor of one of the big weeklies in the States on the +blank. "Vice-President Gamburdo is man of hour here today," he wrote. +"Tomorrow may be man of hour in all Latin America. Arranging for +interview. Can you use? Matthew Hall."</p> + +<p>"And now you are working?"</p> + +<p>Hall turned the blank around so that Androtten could read the text of +his cable. "I'll let you in on my secret," he laughed.</p> + +<p>The Dutchman read the text. "Interesting," he said. "Damn interesting."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's just routine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never that." The Dutchman sighed. "When such vital personalities as +Señor Gamburdo are routine to you, Mr. Hall, I imagine that my story has +only a small chance of ever being told. But I suppose that is merely as +it should be."</p> + +<p>"Hell, no, Mr. Androtten. I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as I have +my interview with Gamburdo, we'll sit down and have our chat and then +I'll query the <i>Saturday Evening Post</i> or <i>Collier's</i> and whatever they +offer we'll split down the middle."</p> + +<p>"You make me happy as hell, Mr. Hall. But please, money is no object. +Please keep all of the money."</p> + +<p>Hall shook his head. "We'll fight that out later," he said. "Cigar?"</p> + +<p>Androtten demurred. His heart was not strong enough for cigars that +early in the morning, he explained. "In Java I was healthier than an +ox," he said. "But the damn Japanese ..." He let the rest of the +sentence remain unspoken.</p> + +<p>Through the open window of the dining room, Hall saw Pepe's LaSalle +drive up to the Bolivar.</p> + +<p>He excused himself with an "I'll be seeing you," and walked out to the +desk. He handed the cable blank to the day clerk. "Send it press rate +collect," he said.</p> + +<p>Pepe had a message for Hall from Souza. Ansaldo had returned to the +Bolivar at 3:14 <span class="smcap">A.M.</span>, twenty-three minutes before Wilhelm Androtten. +They had both left calls to be awakened at eight in the morning.</p> + +<p>"That all Souza said?"</p> + +<p>"That is the complete message."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's something, anyway." The papers said that Ansaldo was to +spend the morning at the bedside of President Tabio.</p> + +<p>"Where to?"</p> + +<p>"Gobernacion Building. But not right away. Drive somewhere where we can +have a coffee together. I'd like to talk to you first."</p> + +<p>Pepe took him to a little workers' restaurant on the edges of the +business section of New San Hermano. It was evident that he had had +little sleep.</p> + +<p>"Tired?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>The driver whistled, softly. "Like a corpse," he admitted.</p> + +<p>An amused grimace distorted Hall's face. "What a corpse!" he said. "Why +didn't you tell the boys who followed the teachers and me from the café +last night to be better than the little dog?"</p> + +<p>"You saw them?"</p> + +<p>"I kept tripping over them all the way home."</p> + +<p>Pepe thought it was very funny. "They pledged their lives to protect +yours, the bunglers. Reliable, but clumsy."</p> + +<p>"I am not angry," Hall said. "I am grateful."</p> + +<p>"For nothing," Pepe protested.</p> + +<p>"Pepe, do you know why I came to San Hermano?"</p> + +<p>The big Asturian shrugged his shoulders. "You never told me, or +Fernando. Miguelito and his friend said you have the mouth of a clam."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to know why?"</p> + +<p>"I never question friends. You are a friend."</p> + +<p>Hall looked up at Pepe Delgado and wanted to tell him how much he +reminded him of the best of the men he had met in Spain, the best of the +officers and <i>milicianos</i> who never, even in the heat of battle, forgot +the feelings and the sacred <i>dignidad</i> of their fellow men.</p> + +<p>"Mother of God!" Pepe laughed. "Don't look at me as if I were that girl +with the red hair."</p> + +<p>"You are a good <i>compañero</i>," Hall said. "In a few days, perhaps I can +tell you."</p> + +<p>"I never ask questions of friends," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"I know. Did Souza tell you what I told him last night?"</p> + +<p>"No. Only about when Ansaldo and Androtten came back."</p> + +<p>"Can you reach Souza today?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Then listen. Tonight, he must find some excuse for moving me into the +room next to Ansaldo—if there is such a room. Do you think he can do +it?"</p> + +<p>Pepe grabbed the check for the coffee, refused to relinquish it to Hall. +"This is my table," he said with quiet dignity. He also refused to +discuss his fee for driving Hall around San Hermano for days. +"<i>Mañana</i>," he laughed. "But about the room. I think Fernando can +arrange it. The wife of the owner of the Bolivar is a member of the +Centro Asturiano. She is also a first cousin of Dr. Gonzalez."</p> + +<p>"I hope he can do it," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hola!</i>" Pepe boomed. "<i>Qué tal?</i>" He exchanged loud pleasantries with +a chauffeur who came in and sat down at a table in the corner.</p> + +<p>"A Gallego," he explained to Hall. "But otherwise a pretty decent man."</p> + +<p>"There are many decent Gallegos," Hall said.</p> + +<p>Pepe whistled through his teeth, shook the limp and dangling fingers of +his right hand, and looked behind his back. Hall grinned. Pepe's gesture +was as old as Spain.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Pepe," he laughed, "we have much to do. And all in a very short +time. I am going to see the Press Secretary in the Gobernacion. I am +requesting an interview with Gamburdo."</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo is a <i>cabrón</i>," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"I know. In my eyes he is an <i>hijo de la gran puta</i>. But for the present +I want Gamburdo and his friends to think that I am an admirer of the +<i>cabrito</i>. Clear?"</p> + +<p>"I think I understand."</p> + +<p>"Good. Tell all of this to Souza when you drop me at Gobernacion. When +can you see him?"</p> + +<p>"I will try to see him at once."</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno.</i> Let's go, then."</p> + +<p>In the car, Hall had a fresh idea. "This young Juan Antonio, the +teacher. Is he really a Communist?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Member of the party?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. He writes for <i>Mundo Obrero</i> regularly."</p> + +<p>"Good. If you see him, ask him to go to the Communist headquarters and +from there to telephone a friend. From there, understand? Tell him to +call any friend. No, wait. Make it a friend in the office of <i>Mundo +Obrero</i>. I want him to denounce me to this friend as an admirer of +Gamburdo and an enemy of Tabio."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"I have an idea that Gamburdo has made some changes since he became +Acting President," Hall answered. "If he has, he's got some Cross and +Sword bastards listening in on all Communist phones."</p> + +<p>"It is possible," Pepe said. "I will discuss your idea with Juan +Antonio."</p> + +<p>"Talk him into it, Pepe."</p> + +<p>Pepe stopped the car in front of the Gobernacion building. He promised +to meet Hall at the Bolivar in two hours.</p> + +<p>Hall entered the polished marble corridors of the Gobernacion. There was +a popular song about this building. Hall thought of the words, written +by no known poet, and yet so well known in the nation that it had become +the unofficial anthem of the Hermanitos in the guerrilla armies which +had fought the Seguristas. Even today, after nearly three decades, San +Hermano youngsters learned the words from slightly older playmates when +they were barely old enough to play by themselves. Somehow, the kids of +the city sang a slightly less ribald version of the ballad of the +<i>edificio magnífico</i> which cost the nation over twenty million pesos and +which, the song maintained, supported a village full of Don Augusto's +whores and bastards.</p> + +<p>"I want to see the Press Secretary," Hall told an attendant in the right +department.</p> + +<p>"So do I," the attendant laughed. "He resigned last week."</p> + +<p>"Didn't anyone take his place?"</p> + +<p>The attendant was a very old man. He leaned back in his chair and with +an eloquent look gave Hall to understand that he had completely lost +patience with the visitor. "<i>Chico</i>," he said, "no one could take Don +Pascual's place."</p> + +<p>"Please, <i>viejo</i>, I am in a hurry. Is anyone trying to take Don +Pascual's place?"</p> + +<p>"Ha!" The old man shifted in his chair. With withering scorn he raised +his arm and pointed a handful of gnarled brown fingers at a door marked +<i>Prensa</i>. There were many other men in San Hermano who pointed to things +with just that gesture. Hall recognized the gesture at once. He had seen +it for the first time in Geneva, when Anibal Tabio rose to make that +gesture toward the pile of captured Italian and German military +documents with which the Spaniards had tried to impress the League.</p> + +<p>Hall smiled with compassion at the figure of the old man imitating the +gesture of his idolized President.</p> + +<p>"Go in, go in," the old man said, petulantly. "Go in and see that burro +of a dolt who is <i>trying</i> to take Don Pascual's place."</p> + +<p>"And has this burro a name?"</p> + +<p>"The burro has a name. It is Valenti. Now you made me say the +unspeakable name! Please, <i>chico</i>, in the name of my sainted mother and +the Educator, go away!"</p> + +<p>The old man's attitude told Hall more about what Gamburdo had already +done to the Press Bureau than he could have learned in a week of routine +digging. He handed the old man a cigar and a box of matches and walked +through the door to Valenti's office. He found himself in a small +anteroom facing a dark-haired girl pecking genteely at the keys of a +typewriter with creamy fingers whose long nails were painted a deep +blood red. She was immaculately groomed and pretty.</p> + +<p>"I would like to see Señor Valenti," he said.</p> + +<p>"Your name, Señor?"</p> + +<p>So you had voice training, too, he thought. "Matthew Hall," he said. "I +am a journalist from New York."</p> + +<p>"How nice!" The secretary switched to English immediately. There was +only the slightest suggestion of an accent to her English, and over the +faint Spanish intonations she tried to impose the broad a's of something +resembling the Oxford drawl. "It is quite a relief to speak English +during office hours, really." She pronounced it as "re-ahl-y."</p> + +<p>"Yours is a very good English, Miss ..."</p> + +<p>"Vardieno," she said.</p> + +<p>"Pick it up in school in San Hermano?"</p> + +<p>Miss Vardieno made a mouth of disdain. "Heavens, no!" she said. "Dad +sent me to finishing school in the States. Stuffy old place, but +charming in its own Adirondack way. Besides, I could always sneak down +to town for a week-end when it became too boring."</p> + +<p>"Of course," Hall smiled. "Nothing like good old New York to work off a +bore."</p> + +<p>"And how! What brings you to this forsaken village?"</p> + +<p>"Pan American Airways," he laughed. "There's a flight out of Miami every +two days they tell me."</p> + +<p>The girl laughed with him. "O.K.," she said. "I asked for it. I'll find +out if Mr. Valenti can see you now." She pushed her chair back and got +up, pausing mid-way long enough to give Hall a fleeting look at her +breasts with a casualness she had never learned in the Adirondacks. But +Hall had eyes only for the pendant which dangled at the end of a thin +platinum chain. When she sat at her desk or stood erect, Miss Vardieno's +Cross and Sword emblem sank neatly below the neck line of her blue New +York dress.</p> + +<p>"There are so many lovely sights in San Hermano," Hall sighed as the +girl walked into the private office.</p> + +<p>She was in the private office for quite some time. Emerging, she had +regained her finishing-school poise. "I am so sorry," she said. "Mr. +Valenti is tied up in a conference that will last for hours. Our +Congress opens in five days, you know, and what with the situation being +what it is, Mr. Hall, it is the feeling of the Press Director that it +will be impossible for any writer to obtain an interview with Mr. +Gamburdo until after the Congress convenes."</p> + +<p>Nice going, he thought. "An interview with the Vice-President? But how +did Mr. Valenti know that was what I wanted?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mr. Hall. I guess he just presumed. Every one wants to +interview Mr. Gamburdo these days. If it keeps up I guess he'll make the +cover of <i>Time</i>, don't you think?" She sat down and propped up a flower +sagging over the rim of the crystal vase on her desk. "Our pretty +tropical blooms are too darned delicate, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Hall said, thinking not of the broken blossom but of the +speed with which the text of his cable had reached Gamburdo's new Press +Secretary.</p> + +<p>Miss Vardieno brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her skirt. "Well, +anyway," she said in her best bored-with-it-all nuance, "he's going to +be a vast improvement over Tovarich Tabio."</p> + +<p>"I'll be seeing you," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a stranger now," Miss Vardieno said. "It's such a relief to +speak English during office hours."</p> + +<p>Hall closed the door behind him and started to whistle the ballad about +the graft that built the marble halls of Gobernacion's <i>edificio +magnífico</i>. "You're right," he told the old attendant. "Valenti can +never wear Don Pascual's <i>pantalones</i>."</p> + +<p>The old man's dry cackle followed Hall down the swirling marble stairs. +Hall walked out to the Avenida de la Liberacion, looked in all +directions for the man who had followed him the night before. The yellow +straw hat was nowhere in sight. He turned his steps toward the +fashionable shopping district directly south on the avenue. If his +shadow were on him, he would flush him by walking down the broad, sunny +avenue.</p> + +<p>The shopping district brought no sign of the "little dog." Hall shopped +the plate-glass windows, hoping to catch a tell-tale glimpse of anyone +who might be on his heels. He went into a department store, bought a +tropical dinner suit, and arranged to have it altered and delivered to +the Bolivar at five. Then, after selecting a maroon tie and a shirt, he +found a phone booth and called Fielding's office.</p> + +<p>A Spanish-speaking secretary answered the phone. Fielding was in Alcala +at an auction, she said. "Please have him call Father Arupe's +secretary," Hall said.</p> + +<p>The hot noon-day sun forced Hall to abandon his ideas of taking a +leisurely stroll to the Bolivar. He found a rickety cab and relaxed on +the dusty cushions. Fielding was the man he needed now, Fielding might +be able to make Androtten show his cards, Fielding might have some of +the answers about the new Press Chief and his brand-new secretary. And +if Souza could find out who owned the Renault Androtten and the little +dog used, maybe Fielding could tie the information into some of his own +data and come up with something. Then when the boys in Havana answered +that screwy letter perhaps they'd all have something to go by. In three +days at the outside there would be word from Havana. Three days of +waiting and accepting Souza and Pepe and even Fielding on faith.</p> + +<p>At the Bolivar, the desk clerk told Hall that Pepe had called to say +that he was having some minor engine trouble and would be delayed for +about an hour. Hall noted the word "minor" and put it down to a delay in +reaching Souza or Juan Antonio. He ordered a jug of iced pineapple juice +sent up and went to his room. The long walk down the Avenida de la +Liberacion under the broiling sun had covered Hall with sweat. He +stripped and went to the bathroom. A slow gust of air hissed out of the +faucets when Hall turned the taps. He washed his face with cold water at +the basin while waiting for the pressure to force up the water to the +bath faucets.</p> + +<p>But no water came. The hissing ceased, the faucets went bone dry. Hall +phoned the news down to the desk.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, Señor," the clerk said. "But all the baths on your line +seem to have gone dry. The manager has sent for a plumber."</p> + +<p>Hall stretched out on his bed and tried to relax.</p> + +<p>The desk clerk phoned him back. "Can I send the plumber up?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure." Hall put on his pants and a pair of slippers. More than anything +else, at this moment, he wanted to wallow in a cold tub. The plumber, +who looked enough like Pepe Delgado to be his twin, had other ideas.</p> + +<p>"It is very serious, Señor," he complained. "There will be no water from +these rotted pipes in a century." He banged the pipes with one tool and +twisted them with another, cursing them as he worked. "It is very +serious," he concluded. "I can do nothing on them today."</p> + +<p>"Mother of God!" Hall said, and then he saw the sly smile on the +plumber's massive face.</p> + +<p>"Even She couldn't get any water from these pipes," the plumber said.</p> + +<p>"How am I going to bathe?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? Maybe the manager will give you another room where the bath +still works."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. Well, thanks for trying."</p> + +<p>"For nothing, Señor." The plumber picked up his tools and left.</p> + +<p>Hall dressed and joined Pepe in the car. "What did the plumber say?" +Pepe asked.</p> + +<p>"Enough. Let's have a quick lunch somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Souza is changing your room tonight. He is also changing the rooms of +four other guests. They have no water either."</p> + +<p>"Good work. Where are we eating?"</p> + +<p>"When I stop the car you'll find out."</p> + +<p>"Is the plumber your brother?"</p> + +<p>"My cousin. I also spoke to Juan Antonio. He made that telephone call."</p> + +<p>"Are you very hungry?" Hall asked. "I want to buy you half a steer."</p> + +<p>"I could eat half a steer, <i>compañero</i>. And I know where to get it, +too." He drove to an old garden restaurant near the beach. "Here they +serve the best meat in San Hermano. And at low prices, too."</p> + +<p>Pepe did ample justice to a tremendous steak. He washed it down with a +quart of beer, chiding Hall for confining his luncheon to a simple +roast-beef sandwich. "Such food is all right for little children, Señor +Hall. But you are a man."</p> + +<p>"Call me Mateo."</p> + +<p>"You should eat like a man, <i>Compañero</i> Mateo."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel like eating."</p> + +<p>"Then go to a good doctor. Or take that red-headed woman into your bed +for a night. You'd eat in the morning, <i>chico</i>!"</p> + +<p>Hall laughed. "I'd rather see a doctor," he said.</p> + +<p>"A doctor?" Pepe grew serious. "Is anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? This Dr. Gonzales you mentioned. Is he a medico?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Would you like to see him, <i>Compañero</i> Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"Could we see him after lunch?"</p> + +<p>"Now is the best time. He's surely taking a little siesta, and it is +better not to telephone. His daughter is at school all day. Come on, +I'll drive you over."</p> + +<p>They got into the car and Pepe swung into a street with a trolley track +that led them to a middle-class suburb. He stopped in front of a gray +frame house similar to any doctor's house in an American town. A fat and +ancient Persian cat was sleeping in the shadiest part of the porch. Pepe +meowed at the cat. She opened a lazy eye, yawned, and went back to +sleep.</p> + +<p>"The cat and her master always take their siesta at the same time," Pepe +explained. "It is a very intelligent cat." He opened the screen door.</p> + +<p>"Is there no bell?"</p> + +<p>"He disconnects the bell when he naps." Pepe led Hall into a cool, +shaded living room. There was no rug on the highly polished redwood +floor. The furniture was made by native craftsmen of bamboo and wicker, +although the designs reflected the functional modernism of the Bauhaus +school. It was the first modern furniture Hall had ever seen in South +America.</p> + +<p>Pepe noticed Hall's interest. "The doctor has many peasant projects," he +explained. "He brought some Spanish refugees from Madrid to the country +to teach the peasants how to make good furniture. They have a big +co-operative shop in the southern province near the Little River. Sit +down in one of these new chairs. I'll get him."</p> + +<p>Hall relaxed in one of the low-slung chairs while Pepe went to the rear +part of the house. "He's not on the couch in his office," Pepe said. He +went to the foot of the stairs leading into the foyer. "<i>Hola!</i> It's +Delgado! <i>Hola!</i> Don Manuel, it's Delgado!" His shouts would have roused +the dead. He turned around and winked to Hall. "<i>Abajo</i> Anibal Tabio!" +he shouted. "<i>Viva</i> Gamburdo! <i>Viva</i> Segura! <i>Abajo</i> Tabio!"</p> + +<p>Upstairs there was the sound of a book or a heavy shoe dropping to the +floor. "Bandit!" someone shouted, and then a tall graying man in his +stockinged feet shuffled to the head of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and +cursing Pepe with a mock cantankerousness. "<i>Bulto</i>," he shouted. "Give +a man a chance to put on his shoes. Show some respect for my degrees!"</p> + +<p>Pepe made a low, courtly stage bow. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," he +pleaded. "I am only a simple petitioner."</p> + +<p>"<i>Momentico, compañero.</i>" The doctor went to his room for a pair of +huaraches.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, I want you to meet <i>Compañero</i> Mateo Hall."</p> + +<p>"<i>Compañero</i> Hall!" The doctor started to speak English. "It is so good +to finally meet you. Don Anibal gave me your book on Spain for Christmas +when it was printed. He spoke to me about you very highly. Please, sit +down. You will find these chairs very comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Pepe has been telling me about your co-operative."</p> + +<p>"It is not very large. Here, try this chair. It is my favorite."</p> + +<p>Pepe reminded the doctor that Hall was in need of his professional +services. "Excuse my bad manners, doctor," he said, "but when you start +to talk about your projects ..."</p> + +<p>"He is right," the doctor smiled. "Sometimes I do talk too much. I like +to talk, even when people don't really listen to me. Even in my sleep I +talk. About many things. Art. Weaving. World politics. The war."</p> + +<p>"I like to listen," Hall said. "Where did you learn your English, +doctor?"</p> + +<p>"My English?" The doctor leaned back in his chair, the smile of a man +enjoying a highly private joke on his face. "I am afraid, <i>compañero</i>, +that I learned my English in the same sort of a place where you learned +your excellent Spanish. That is, in a dungeon built by the Kings of +Spain."</p> + +<p>"In Spain?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am not a Spaniard. My grandfathers were Spaniards, but my father +and I were born here." He pointed to a framed flag of the Republic which +hung on the wall over Hall's chair. "That flag hung in my cell in El +Moro for three years, and that flag was in my hands the day Segura's +death opened the prison gates to all of us." The doctor was not aware +that he was now speaking in Spanish.</p> + +<p>"The doctor was in El Moro with Don Anibal," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"That is true," the doctor admitted. "Nearly every patriot on the +faculty and so many of the students were there, too. I had just taken my +degree in medicine but I was still at the University as an instructor in +biology when the arrests began. But don't think it was all tears and +terror. Don Anibal and his late cousin Federico formed the so-called +University Behind Bars. We had Chairs in Latin, English, biology, +history, art, literature—everything. The soldiers, who were with us, +smuggled in our books and papers. Later, when the Seguristas were out of +power, the students who were in prison were able to take their +examinations in the University of San Hermano, and the new Regents gave +them full academic credit for their studies at El Moro."</p> + +<p>"He is a sick man, doctor," Pepe said. "Examine him first and talk to +him later."</p> + +<p>"Pepe is right, <i>Compañero</i> Hall. I do talk too much."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. Any man who did three years in jail has a lot of talking to +catch up on when he gets out."</p> + +<p>"Will the examination take very long?" Pepe asked. "I have to go back to +town. I can pick you up later."</p> + +<p>"Have you an hour?" the doctor asked Hall.</p> + +<p>"I have all day."</p> + +<p>Pepe got up. "I'll be back in two hours," he laughed. He walked out to +the porch. They heard him meow at the cat. Then the cat screeched and +Pepe howled.</p> + +<p>"A cat is never completely civilized," Dr. Gonzales said. "Poor Pepe +refuses to believe it. And now Grisita has scratched him again."</p> + +<p>"Your wild beast!" Pepe roared. "She clawed me!"</p> + +<p>"Come inside, and I'll fix it, Pepe."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. I've got iodine in my car."</p> + +<p>Hall expected the doctor to be amused. Instead, a wave of profound +sadness gripped the man. He took out a pocket handkerchief and ran it +over his forehead. "What's wrong, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," Gonzales said. "I just can't stand the way they spare me. +Since my illness it's been hell. For twelve years I was the National +Minister of public health education. Don Anibal appointed me when he was +Minister of Education. He created the job for me. Now I live on a +pension, and outside of the few hours I put in every week as a +consultant at the University and my handicraft projects, I do nothing. +Biologically I am now a vegetable. And my good friends, the people of +San Hermano ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>Claro.</i> You mean they are too kind ..."</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. "But they are my friends," he said. "They do not do +this to hurt me. And now, what bothers you?"</p> + +<p>"My back. I think that I may have strained it."</p> + +<p>"I can examine you better in my office. It's in the next room."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. But first, I'd like to talk to you about some other things. +I don't know what's going on, but I do know that something is wrong. I +knew Don Anibal in Geneva, and I know that if he were well, your country +would break with the Axis...."</p> + +<p>The doctor sighed. "You are not alone," he said. "Don Anibal is a very +sick man. No one seems to know what is wrong, exactly. He is paralyzed +from the hips down, and he grows weaker every day. The mind is still +strong, but it must rest so much that none of us dare to tax Don Anibal +with worries other than his health. In the meanwhile, Gamburdo has taken +over."</p> + +<p>"And Gamburdo? Is he honest?"</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo is not a man of good will. He is a clever lawyer and a very +intelligent man. His family prospered under Segura, but the General +seduced a Gamburdo daughter, and that turned them against the +Seguristas. Gamburdo volunteered his services as a lawyer when Tabio and +the Republican junta was in jail. But this offer was a calculating +gamble. He knew that Segura's days were numbered; he knew that the +leaders of the junta would be the new government of the nation. He +joined the Party of Radical Socialism, but when he became its head, he +saw to it that, like himself, the party became neither radical nor +socialist."</p> + +<p>"He was for Franco, you know," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"I know. He was for Franco and the Falange and against Tabio. But he is +very intelligent. He managed to keep these things nicely hidden. When +Tabio was elected President and created the new government of national +unity, Gamburdo joined forces with Don Anibal—but only to destroy this +unity from within.</p> + +<p>"This is the least of his sins. It seems that he has kept all the +Republican doctors from the Presidencia. The only doctors Gamburdo has +permitted are the reactionaries, the old servants of the Seguristas. We +tried to talk to Don Anibal, but you know him and his saintly faith in +the goodness of Man. I think that, deliberately, he has placed his life +in Gamburdo's hands as a lesson to all of his old friends in the need +for real unity. It is as if he means to prove to us, by getting well, +that unity is the most important issue in the nation today."</p> + +<p>"And Dr. Ansaldo? Is he really good?"</p> + +<p>"He has a great reputation. But it is a gamble for Gamburdo alone. If +Don Anibal recovers, Gamburdo and his friends will say that it was a +Spaniard who saved the President. If he dies—even a great Spanish +doctor could not save him. Either way, Gamburdo stands to gain."</p> + +<p>In the office Hall took a chair facing the microscope on the doctor's +white enameled metal desk. He watched the doctor hunt through the +instrument cases along the wall. On a lower shelf, the doctor found his +stethoscope.</p> + +<p>"Would you please remove your shirt?"</p> + +<p>Hall shook his head. "No," he said. He gently took the stethoscope from +the doctor's hands, carefully folded it and put it away in a small +wooden box he found on the desk. "This is what I really came for, +doctor."</p> + +<p>"My stethoscope?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly." He explained to the doctor that with such instruments one +could easily hear through an average indoor wall. "I have a queer +feeling," he said, "that with your stethoscope I can perhaps get a hint +as to what is actually wrong with Don Anibal,—or, at least, in San +Hermano."</p> + +<p>The doctor gave Hall his hand. "I won't ask you any questions," he said. +"But may I wish you luck?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Now let me fix you a cold drink. I'm not very good in the kitchen, but +we'll see what we can both do."</p> + +<p>Pepe returned with news for Hall about the change of rooms at the hotel. +Hall now had the room next to Ansaldo's sitting room. He also told him +that the Spanish Republican societies were planning an <i>homenaje</i> for +Hall. "They formed a committee to arrange it with you, but I told them +that you didn't want to see them until next week."</p> + +<p>"I hope you were pleasant," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I was, Mateo. I just thought you didn't want too much noise +about you in San Hermano for the next few days."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're right, Pepe."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to do now?"</p> + +<p>"Take a bath. I'm going to a party at the American Embassy tonight. But +tomorrow I think we'll have a lot of work to do, <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what happened to the little dog?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe I'll know some more about him tonight."</p> + +<p>"What have you got in the box?"</p> + +<p>"Medicine."</p> + +<p>Pepe snorted. "<i>Mierda!</i>" he laughed. "What you really need is ..."</p> + +<p>"I know," Hall said, sharply. "That girl with the red hair."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," Pepe said. "I am not a doctor."</p> + +<p>"You are too modest, <i>ilustre</i>."</p> + +<p>"Have a good time tonight. I'll be waiting for you in the morning. Or, +if you change your mind, leave word with Fernando."</p> + +<p>"Good. Until tomorrow, then." Hall got the key to his new room from the +clerk, as well as the packages he had ordered earlier in the day.</p> + +<p>The new room was larger than the other one. His clothes and bags had +already been moved in, and the chambermaid had made a creditable effort +to put them away as Hall had previously done. Hall went to the window, +saw that it looked out on the Plaza. He adjusted his window shutters for +privacy. The wall between his room and Ansaldo's sitting room had only a +bureau against it. Hall moved the chest slightly to one side, made room +for a small, solid chair. Then he took his bath.</p> + +<p>He was shaving when he heard Ansaldo return to the Bolivar. He wrapped a +towel around his middle, put the plastic prongs of the stethoscope in +his ears, and sat down on the little chair facing the wall. The hearing +end of the stethoscope picked up only footsteps. The sounds told their +own story. The man in the next room was walking to the window, then +opening the shutters, then sitting on the couch. There were other +footsteps, lighter and less pronounced. Perhaps another person in the +room was wearing soft slippers or going barefooted, like Hall himself.</p> + +<p>"Are you tired, <i>ilustre</i>?" It was Marina.</p> + +<p>"No. Why should I be tired?" Ansaldo.</p> + +<p>Marina giggled.</p> + +<p>"Did you find out?" Ansaldo asked.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, <i>ilustre</i>. What was it like to examine Tovarich Tabio?"</p> + +<p>Ansaldo laughed. "Let me take care of the Tovarich, please. And don't +act too happy at the Embassy tonight."</p> + +<p>"I am not a fool, <i>ilustre</i>. Didn't the Caudillo himself personally +decorate me for bravery?"</p> + +<p>"Now you are being a boor. I detest boors."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, <i>ilustre</i>."</p> + +<p>"Try to find out if they are coming in tonight."</p> + +<p>"They would not be coming by Clipper," Marina said. "Too dangerous."</p> + +<p>There was the rustle of paper, followed by the padded footsteps. Then +someone—Hall guessed it was Marina—sat down in a creaky armchair. The +man with the shoes got up and walked in the direction opposite from +Hall's room. Hall heard a door open, followed a few seconds later by the +rush of water into a tub. He remained in his chair, his stethoscope +still against the plaster.</p> + +<p>The phone near Hall's bed started to ring. He got up very quietly, +tiptoed over to the bed. He hid the stethoscope under his pillow before +he answered.</p> + +<p>"Hello, it's me."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, Jerry."</p> + +<p>"Speak louder. I can't hear you."</p> + +<p>"Sure." He went on speaking with his hand around the mouthpiece to +muffle the sound. "Can you hear me now?"</p> + +<p>"Just about. Listen, I've got lots to tell you. I was with Doctor when +he examined the President, and he was magnificent!"</p> + +<p>"The patient?"</p> + +<p>"No, you dope. The doctor. What are you doing now?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Getting dressed."</p> + +<p>"Me too. Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>"Right now?"</p> + +<p>Jerry laughed.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said. "You're not wearing a thing at the moment."</p> + +<p>"Just a second. There. Now you're right about one thing, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Don't tempt me," he warned. "I might decide to check up for myself."</p> + +<p>"Not now you won't! Meet you downstairs in about twenty minutes. O.K.?"</p> + +<p>Hall finished his shave and dressed, toying all the while with the +notion of walking down the corridor to Jerry's room before she had a +chance to leave. Pepe would heartily approve, he thought, and, besides, +since that hour in the woods on top of Monte Azul, Jerry had not exactly +indicated that he would be unwelcome if he made a try. But while he +speculated, Jerry phoned him again from downstairs. "Daydreaming?" she +asked, and he answered, "Yes, about you."</p> + +<p>She met him at the elevator in the lobby. "Come on," she laughed, "let's +go to that place in back of the Cathedral. The little Dutch drip was +around here a second ago. He wants to tell you the story of his life, he +told me."</p> + +<p>"O.K. Let's just keep walking."</p> + +<p>She took his arm as they left the hotel. "Miss me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"You're a liar."</p> + +<p>Hall winced. "Is that the best you have to say? How about the +magnificent doctor?"</p> + +<p>"He's really good, Matt. I'm not kidding. I've worked with some corking +medics in my day, but this guy is tops." She told Hall about the +masterly way in which Ansaldo had taken command of the situation, +kicking all the San Hermano doctors out of the sick room and examining +Tabio only in the presence of Marina, Jerry and Tabio's son.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him?"</p> + +<p>"Ansaldo has an idea. But he has to make certain."</p> + +<p>"What does it look like to you?"</p> + +<p>"It could be many things. What's good to drink here?"</p> + +<p>"Anything. Scotch and soda?"</p> + +<p>"Oke. But really, Matt, you should have seen Doctor in that sick room." +She launched into a long and enthusiastic account of the doctor at work.</p> + +<p>The girl was on the point of repeating herself when Hall cut her short. +"Listen," he said. "Let me tell you something about Anibal Tabio and his +generation of young democrats who walked out of jail and started to make +history." He told her of the schools and the hospitals which had been +built in the country in the last decade, of the minimum-wage laws, of +the work of Tabio followers like Dr. Gonzales.</p> + +<p>He told her how he first met Tabio in Geneva. "His was supposed to be +just a small voice in the League; a little South American dressing to +make the whole show look good. But a month after he got there, Mussolini +started to pop his goo-goo eyes at Ethiopia. Hoare and Laval and Halifax +were so nice and ready to give the Italian steamroller a healthy shove +downhill to Addis Ababa. Then one afternoon Litvinov got up to fire some +heavy shots. But that was expected. Then del Vayo started, and the fun +began. Because, when Vayo was through, it was Tabio's turn. And lady, +what Anibal Tabio did to hot shots like Hoare and Laval without even +raising his voice was just plain murder."</p> + +<p>Jerry put her hand on Hall's arm. "I suppose I read about it in the +papers at the time. It didn't mean much to me then. I'm afraid it didn't +mean much to me until right now, Matt."</p> + +<p>"Weren't you interested in what happened in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Not too much, I'm afraid. I was interested in myself. I was making up +my mind to go to Reno, and then I sat in Reno for six weeks cramming on +my old school books, and then I was off to nursing school."</p> + +<p>"Didn't Ethiopia, and later Spain, make any impression upon you?" Hall's +question was very gently stated.</p> + +<p>"Of course it did, Matt. I was sorry for the Africans and I was sorry +for the Spaniards. I wanted Mussolini to get licked and I wanted the +Loyalists to win. But most of all I wanted to get through nursing school +and then earn enough money to study medicine."</p> + +<p>"In other words, if Geraldine Olmstead got her M.D., all would be right +with the world, eh?"</p> + +<p>She avoided his eyes. "It sounds stupid and mean," she said. "But I +guess I deserve it. I'm afraid that was the idea."</p> + +<p>"When did the idea die?"</p> + +<p>"About ten seconds ago, when you put it into words," she admitted. "I +never thought of it in that way before. But I wasn't the only one, +Matt."</p> + +<p>"Hell, no! You were in a majority when the war started. The whole +country was sitting back and, as it thought, minding its own business. +We thought we were wonderfully immune until the bombs began to drop on +Pearl Harbor."</p> + +<p>"Now you're being gallant," she laughed. "There were plenty of people in +the country like—like you, Matt. Have we time for another drink?"</p> + +<p>Hall was staring into space. Suddenly he exploded. "<i>Madre de Dios!</i> Now +I remember!"</p> + +<p>"Remember what? You look like you've seen a ghost."</p> + +<p>"I have." Hall tapped his head. "In here."</p> + +<p>Jerry laughed. "I wish someone would come along and tell me what this is +all about."</p> + +<p>"There's no time. Let's get back to the hotel. I've got to change +clothes and there's a guy I want to see before I go to the party."</p> + +<p>"But what's it all about?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you later."</p> + +<p>Walking back to the hotel, he asked Jerry if she had ever found the +solution to a problem in a dream. "Because just now I did. Do you +remember when you woke me up this morning that I sounded like a guy in a +fog? Well, I was. But just a few minutes ago at that table on the +sidewalk, the fog lifted."</p> + +<p>"And now you feel better?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. It's all over."</p> + +<p>"I think you're lying. I think that whatever it is, it's just +beginning."</p> + +<p>"No. It's over."</p> + +<p>Jerry was right. But what she did not know was that the fog had lifted +on Dr. Varela Ansaldo. The doctor was the Spanish officer of Hall's +dream, the one at whose back Hall hurled the knife. And at the table, +sipping his second drink, Hall had recalled in a flash where he had seen +Varela Ansaldo before. It had happened in Burgos, in April of 1938, +during a review of the 12th Division of the fascist army. Ansaldo, +wearing the uniform of a Franco major, with a big Falange yoke and +arrows sewn over the left breast pocket, had shared a bench on the +reviewing stand with an Italian and a German officer. Directly behind +them, on that day, had flown the flags of Imperial Spain, The Falange, +Nazi Germany and fascist Italy. Hall remembered the tableau vividly, +remembered so clearly perhaps because while watching the review from the +sidewalk he had been annoyed by the staff photographer of Franco's +<i>Arriba</i>, who must have shot a hundred pictures of the officials in the +stands that day and who had also shoved Hall aside or stepped on his +toes before shooting each picture.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you at the Embassy tonight," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oke. But get that scowl off your face first," she smiled. "You promised +to be nice tonight, and right now you look as if you are planning to +kill someone with your bare hands."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_six" id="Chapter_six"></a><i>Chapter six</i></h2> + + +<p>The American Embassy was three blocks beyond the Presidencia. Hall +wanted to walk to the party, but when he reached the street he became +self-conscious about his palm-beach tuxedo jacket, and he hailed a +strange cab.</p> + +<p>The Embassy was housed in an old Spanish palace which a former +Ambassador had left to the United States Government in his will. After +the first World War, when the government had taken title to the palace, +Washington sent an architect and an office efficiency man to San Hermano +to redesign the structure. The outside remained more or less intact. But +inside, many changes had been effected. The spacious street floor, +designed as the slave quarters in the seventeenth century and later +converted to storerooms and servants' quarters, was now a hive of +offices and waiting rooms. The second floor was devoted largely to a +tremendous ballroom, a state dining room, and the tapestried private +offices of the Ambassador himself. The living quarters of the Ambassador +took up the third floor, while the low-ceilinged fourth floor, +originally designed for soldiers, was now given over to servants' rooms.</p> + +<p>A secretary at the entrance checked Hall's name off against a list on a +teak table. He took the carpeted stairs to the ballroom. Two butlers +stood at a screen in the doorway to the big room. The first butler +announced his name, but not loud enough to disturb any of the +Ambassador's two hundred-odd guests. The second butler nodded to Hall, +and led the way through a maze of dignitaries, diplomats' wives, and +young people trying to dance to the music a rumba band was producing +from a bandstand in a corner. Hall followed him patiently, looking for a +sign of Jerry's red hair. The butler nodded gravely at a young girl +dancing with a thin Latin in tails. She left her dancing partner and +advanced on Hall with an outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Matthew Hall, Miss Margaret," the butler whispered.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you came, Mr. Hall. I'm Margaret Skidmore." Her hand, thin +and remarkably strong, was covered with a white net glove that reached +to her elbow.</p> + +<p>"It's nice of you to have me," Hall said.</p> + +<p>Margaret Skidmore took his arm. "We must get you a drink," she said, +"and introduce you to some of the more interesting people here. And oh, +yes, to my father. But I warn you, he's not in the first category." She +was short; much smaller than Jerry, Hall thought, but a bird of a +different color. As they crossed the room, a wisp of the black hair +piled on top of her head dropped over her eye. Hall was amused by the +way she blew the hair to one side twice before deciding to lift it with +her gloved hand.</p> + +<p>"This is my Dad's favorite punch," she said at the buffet table. "I +forgot to tell you that the party is to celebrate the third anniversary +of his mission."</p> + +<p>Hall ladled out two cups. "Here's to the next three years," he toasted.</p> + +<p>"The next three years are the ones that will count," Margaret Skidmore +said. She was smiling at Hall and at some other guests when she said it, +but it was not polite banter.</p> + +<p>"The Press Secretary of the Embassy is sore at you," she said. "He's +angry because you tried to get to Gamburdo without him."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Hall said. "If you'll introduce me to him, I'll try to make +amends."</p> + +<p>"Don't bother," she laughed. "Smitty's a stuffed shirt who needs to be +taken down a peg or two. But I must say that you look a lot different +than I thought you would, Mr. Hall."</p> + +<p>"I know. I'm supposed to look like a hero and I have the face of a mugg. +Or a gorilla." He was still looking for Jerry. "You're a surprise, too."</p> + +<p>"Am I so different?" There was coquettish amusement in her hazel eyes. +She tilted her fragile doll's nose, forced a haughty cast to her +small-girl's face. "Is an Ambassador's daughter supposed to be a +high-and-mighty lady like this?"</p> + +<p>"No. I like you better the other way."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. It's my only way."</p> + +<p>Hall spotted Jerry on the dance floor with Varela Ansaldo. Jerry looked +very happy, and Ansaldo had lost some of his undertaker's grimness. He +tried in vain to catch her eye.</p> + +<p>"Here comes my father."</p> + +<p>Hall found himself shaking hands with a portly, middle-aged American who +wore tails as if to the manor born. J. Burton Skidmore had the most +imposing head of wavy gray hair in the entire hemisphere, and he knew +it. His face, still ruddy and youngish, was pink and smelled of fine +cologne.</p> + +<p>"<i>Con mucho gusto</i>," the Ambassador said, holding Hall's hand and bowing +slightly from the waist.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to meet you, sir," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Father, Mr. Hall is an American. He is Matthew Hall, the writer. You +know. Matthew Hall." The childish, well-bred-daughter smile on Margaret +Skidmore's face could not conceal the acid contempt in her voice. "Mr. +Hall is an American, from New York."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, oh, yes, indeed. Hall. Of course, Mr. Hall. Been in San +Hermano long, Mr. Hall?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Less than a week."</p> + +<p>"Fine place, Mr. Hall. Fine people. Have you met Smitty yet? Dear, have +you seen Smitty? I think he and Mr.—Mr. Hall could find much in common, +Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow," Margaret Skidmore said, and the Ambassador helped himself to +a cup of punch.</p> + +<p>"<i>Amigo Mateo!</i>"</p> + +<p>Without turning around, Hall said, in Spanish, "Only one man in all the +world has a scratchy voice like that," and then he turned around and +embraced Felipe Duarte.</p> + +<p>"What brings you to San Hermano?" he asked Duarte.</p> + +<p>"I am now a diplomat. First Counselor of the Mexican Embassy in San +Hermano and guest professor of literature at the University."</p> + +<p>Hall and Duarte had last met in Spain, where Duarte had served as a +Lieutenant-Colonel with the regular Spanish People's Army. "<i>Coronel</i> +Pancho Villa" was the name his men gave him, and the thin, gangling +Mexican scholar had fought like a terror to live up to this name. Of +Duarte, the General Staff officers said that he was as bad a strategist +as he was brave a man, which would have made him one of the worst +strategists in military history. But during the Ebro retreat, Duarte had +taught the veteran professional officers a few things about the tactics +of guerrilla warfare which raised his standing as a soldier.</p> + +<p>Duarte took Margaret Skidmore's hand and raised it to his lips. +"<i>Enchanté</i>," he sighed, and she knew at once that he was laughing at +her.</p> + +<p>"Señor Ambassador," Duarte said, speaking rapid Spanish, "this is one of +the most magnificent parties I have ever attended. How do you manage to +give such splendid parties with only your chit of a daughter to help you +shove food down the ulcerous throats of these sons of whore mothers, +dear Señor Ambassador? It is stupendous. It is colossal."</p> + +<p>The Ambassador smiled, shook Duarte's hand, and bowing slightly, he +murmured, "<i>Con mucho gusto</i>." Then, still smiling, he turned and walked +away.</p> + +<p>"Don't let this guy fool you," Hall said to the Ambassador's daughter. +"He speaks English as well as we do."</p> + +<p>"Better," Duarte said. "Ah learned mah English in Texas, Ah'll have +yo'all know, suh. And Mateo, don't let Margaret's innocent smile fool +you. She knows almost enough Spanish to know what I just told her +distinguished papa."</p> + +<p>"Some day I'm going to know enough," Margaret laughed. "And when I do, +you're going to get your face slapped in front of everyone, I'm afraid. +Tell me, Mateo, does <i>hijos de la gran puta</i> mean what I think it does?"</p> + +<p>"That sounds like slang to me," Hall said. "I learned my Spanish on the +Linguaphone."</p> + +<p>"You're a fast boy, Matt," she said. "Call me Margaret, if you wish." +She straightened Hall's tie with a perfumed glove. "I'll give you a +little time with Felipe, and then I'll steal you back. There are many +people here tonight who want to meet you."</p> + +<p>"Hurry back," Duarte said. "He bores me stiff when I have him on my +hands too long."</p> + +<p>"You bastard," Hall said. "You're a diplomat now. Don't you ever stop +clowning?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. When I kill fascists I am very serious. You know that, Mateo. But +here, if I did not clown, I would die of boredom. For example, when +Skidmore gives a party, the politicos in my Embassy, they all find +reasons for being out of town. I am not a politico. I am a professor of +literature and a killer of fascists, by profession; a diplomat because +someone wanted to do Lombardo a favor and at the same time remove my +face from the domestic scene. <i>Claro?</i> So it is clown or die. And if I +must die, I prefer to die having a second crack at Franco."</p> + +<p>"<i>Claro, amigo.</i> But must you wear a suit like this one?"</p> + +<p>Duarte's evening clothes were his cloak of independence. He wore a cheap +tuxedo he had bought in New York for twenty dollars and a pair of worn +patent-leather shoes that creaked as he walked. On state occasions, he +wore the medals he had earned on the battlefields in Spain. For private +parties, he simply wore an enameled gold Mexican flag on his lapel. +Tonight, he wore only the flag.</p> + +<p>All this he explained to Hall in his gay, rasping Spanish. "When the +Falangist Embassy was still on good terms, I wore my Republican medals +all the time. But just before Don Anibal took sick, he insulted the +Caudillo in a speech before the University faculty, and when the Franco +Ambassador called to ask for an apology Tabio told him that the truth +called for no apologies. So the Caudillo got sore and he called his +Ambassador home. The Embassy is still open, but a clerk is in charge, +and there isn't a Spanish diplomat in San Hermano of high enough +standing to be invited to any Embassy."</p> + +<p>Jerry joined them, and when Hall presented her to Duarte, the Mexican +kissed her hand and murmured, "<i>Enchanté</i>."</p> + +<p>"Miss Olmstead is Dr. Ansaldo's nurse," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"How very interesting," Duarte said. "May I have this dance with the +nurse of Dr. Ansaldo?" and before she had a chance to say that her feet +were killing her, the dexterous Duarte was guiding her through the steps +of an intricate rumba he improvised at that moment.</p> + +<p>Hall took another glass of punch. Duarte was his friend, but at the +moment he wanted to break his neck. He wanted Jerry for himself, and he +hated the idea of admitting or showing it. He watched them so intently +that he failed to see Margaret return to the punch bowl.</p> + +<p>"Deserted?" she asked. "Our friend Felipe would desert his mother for a +redhead."</p> + +<p>"He's quite a guy," Hall laughed.</p> + +<p>"Come on," she said. "There's a crowd that's been dying to meet you. The +country's biggest publisher and some of the more important business +men."</p> + +<p>"Fernandez?"</p> + +<p>"That's right. He publishes <i>El Imparcial</i>. Confidentially, his paper is +getting the Cabot Prize this year. Dad arranged it."</p> + +<p>Fernandez was standing with a group of three Hermanitos and a blonde +fortyish woman in a tight dress whom Hall recognized instantly as an +American. "I'm Giselle Prescott," she said, her smile revealing flecks +of lipstick on her yellow teeth.</p> + +<p>"Take care of the amenities, will you, Gis?" Margaret Skidmore said. +"Dad is flagging me over at the other end." She picked up her skirts, +hurried to her father's rescue.</p> + +<p>Giselle Prescott introduced Hall to José Fernandez, tall, handsome, in +his early fifties. Fernandez presented him to Segundo Vardieno, +Francisco Davila, and Alfonso Quinones. Davila was a man of one age and +build with Fernandez, the other two were shorter and about ten years +younger. Breathlessly, Giselle Prescott told Hall that Vardieno and +Quinones were among the ten largest landowners in the nation, and Davila +its leading attorney. They all made modest denials.</p> + +<p>Quinones asked Giselle to dance, and she accepted gladly. Her myriad +blonde ringlets neatly blocked her partner's forward view.</p> + +<p>"Very accomplished writer," Hall said. "In the popular magazine field, +Miss Prescott is supreme."</p> + +<p>"She is very able," Davila said. Like Quinones and Vardieno, he wore the +emblem of the Cross and the Sword in his lapel. Fernandez wore only the +ribbon of the French Legion of Honor.</p> + +<p>"My niece told me that you had some difficulties at the Press Bureau +today," Vardieno said.</p> + +<p>"Your niece?" Then he remembered the golden Cross and Sword dangling +from the thin golden chain. "Oh, yes, the young lady who speaks English +so well."</p> + +<p>Vardieno explained to Fernandez that Hall had been unable to arrange for +an interview with Gamburdo. "Don't you think you could help Señor Hall?" +Davila asked, and Fernandez assured the three men that the matter would +be taken care of in the morning. Of course, it might not be possible +until after the Congress convened, but then politics in San Hermano +being what they were, the illustrious colleague from North America would +surely be understanding.</p> + +<p>"What's the inside on the political picture?" Hall asked, and the three +men, talking in unison and talking singly gave him one picture.</p> + +<p>Their picture was very detailed. "El Tovarich—our Red President, you +know," had lined up the unruly elements behind a dangerous program of +confiscating the estates of their rightful owners and turning them over +to communist gunmen. In addition to this land-piracy scheme, Tabio also +intended to drive the Catholic Church underground and impose heavy +penalty taxes on the parents who sent their children to Catholic +parochial schools. To aid in this program, Tabio was throwing open the +gates of the nation to Red agitators disguised as Jewish and Spanish +refugees.</p> + +<p>"So it's as bad as that," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Worse." Fernandez looked around him. "Come closer," he said. "There's +something I must tell you about your own safety."</p> + +<p>"My safety?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Señor." Fernandez had his right hand on Hall's shoulder. "Late +this afternoon I received a confidential information that the Communist +Party in San Hermano had privately denounced you to its members."</p> + +<p>"Denounced me? But why?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Señor. And it was a most dangerous denunciation, too. A prominent +communist leader telephoned the editor of the official Red paper and +denounced you for being an enemy of Tovarich Tabio and a supporter of +Señor Gamburdo."</p> + +<p>Hall smiled. "But that couldn't be so bad," he demurred. "The Reds are +always denouncing someone. Tomorrow the Communist Party paper will +attack me as a fascist, and I guess that will be the end of the whole +thing."</p> + +<p>"No, that is not what will happen," Segundo Vardieno insisted. "Tell him +the rest of the information, Don José."</p> + +<p>Again José Fernandez looked around to make sure that he was not being +overheard. "Señor Vardieno is right, my friend. You see," he said, "the +Red who phoned the <i>Mundo Obrero</i> ordered the editor <i>not</i> to print a +word about you—yet. Do you understand what that means?"</p> + +<p>Davila, the lawyer, explained. "What Don José means," he said, "is that +a secret denunciation generally precedes an assassination. You see, +Señor Hall, if the Reds denounce you in their press, you would be marked +before the world as an enemy of the Tovarich. Then, if anything happened +to you—they are not only blameless, but even after killing you they can +make great propaganda about how the alleged fascists killed you because +you are a noted American patriot who stands for free enterprise."</p> + +<p>"Pretty clever," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Jewish cleverness!" Segundo Vardieno was shaking with rage. "Give a Jew +a hundred pesos and in a day he has a thousand and you'll never know how +he did it. But will he apply his cleverness for the good of the country? +No! Only for communism."</p> + +<p>"Is Tabio a Jew?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Confidentially," Vardieno answered, "El Tovarich is a Sephardic Jew. +But we're not making it public because we are gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"And only because we are gentlemen," Fernandez added. "I don't think El +Tovarich will be among us much longer."</p> + +<p>"Is he really that sick?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Davila said. "You know what happened to him, don't you? No? +Well, it's almost like the Hand of Divine Retribution." He told Hall +that Tabio had turned over to one of his henchman a vineyard confiscated +from an old family, and that in gratitude the henchman had started to +distill a special brandy for the Tovarich. "And now, the excess alcohol +from too much of the stolen grape has taken its toll."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you know!" Hall said.</p> + +<p>"It is the gospel truth," Fernandez said. "I have ways of confirming the +story."</p> + +<p>"Some mess, isn't it?" Hall said.</p> + +<p>"It is filled with dangers," Vardieno said. "Your calmness is admirable, +Señor Hall, but you had better watch out. The Reds are out to kill you."</p> + +<p>Hall accepted a cigar from José Fernandez, took his time about lighting +it before answering Vardieno. "Oh, I don't know," he said, casually. +"Perhaps you might know that earlier in this war, I was on board a +British warship which the Nazis sunk with aerial torpedoes. I not only +survived, but I came through without a scratch. Since then I just can't +get too excited about a threat." He looked at the three men to see if +his braggart's act succeeded. Fernandez was obviously the most impressed +of the three.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno! Muy caballero!</i>" Fernandez said. "But you had better be +careful. The Reds in San Hermano have none of the sporting codes of the +Nazi airman."</p> + +<p>"Well, now that you mention it," Hall said, "I did catch some bastard +following me the other day."</p> + +<p>In a small voice, Davila asked, "Did you get a good look at him?"</p> + +<p>"I most certainly did. He was a big, clumsy brute in the white linen +suit of a respectable business man and a panama hat. But I'll bet a good +box of Havana cigars that he was a longshoreman or a miner. I know the +type."</p> + +<p>Davila looked at Vardieno and Fernandez. A slow grin crept over the +lawyer's face, and then the other two Hermanitos were grinning too. "So +they started, eh?" he said. "Well, don't let that big one worry you too +much. Should he, Don José?"</p> + +<p>The publisher grunted. "No. Don't worry about that one." Hall could +sense that Fernandez was picking up his cue from the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," Davila said, "I'll wager that you can find the +picture of the man in the white suit in Don José's confidential file on +the Reds. He keeps it in his office in the <i>Imparcial</i> building."</p> + +<p>"I would be honored if you visited me in my office," José Fernandez said +to Hall.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can make it this week," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Sst," Davila warned. "Miss Prescott is coming back. Let's change the +subject."</p> + +<p>"Of course," Vardieno said. "There is no sense in involving her in +this."</p> + +<p>"This is quite a turnout," Hall was saying when Giselle Prescott and +Quinones rejoined the group. "I think that every nation is represented +by its Ambassador here."</p> + +<p>"Every nation but Spain," Quinones said. "El Tovarich took care of that +by insulting the Ambassador and the Chief of the Spanish State."</p> + +<p>"It's true," Vardieno said. "Spain is a good customer for our nation, +but El Tovarich is so angry at Generalissimo Franco for destroying +communism in the Motherland that he is deliberately trying to destroy +this trade in order to get even with Franco."</p> + +<p>"He not only insulted Spain," Quinones said. "In his speech to the +University, El Tovarich said that only the so-called fascists in San +Hermano supported Franco."</p> + +<p>"Sounds like our pinkos back home," Giselle Prescott said to Hall.</p> + +<p>Fernandez exploded. "I am a good Catholic," he snapped. "I am pious. +During the Civil War I supported Franco. I was proud to support him. I +not only supported Franco, but I was delighted to hail Hitler and +Mussolini as noble allies in the struggle against Jewish Bolshevism. But +am I a fascist? I defy any man to call me a fascist or a Falangist to my +face!"</p> + +<p>Davila turned to both Hall and Giselle Prescott. "Now don't jump to any +false conclusions about Don José," he smiled. "After all, you Americans +are not Reds because you welcome the godless Russian armies of Stalin as +your allies in this present war, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Bull's-eye!" Giselle Prescott laughed. "I'm delighted to hear you both +talk like this. Back home only the Reds and the pinkos were for the +so-called Spanish Loyalists during the war." She opened her tiny purse +and found a leather address book. "Gimme a pencil or a pen, will you, +Hall?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. What for?"</p> + +<p>"I want to put down what Señor Fernandez and Señor Davila just said +before I forget. I'm doing a piece for a mag and these quotes would just +fit in. May I quote you, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to conceal," Fernandez said proudly.</p> + +<p>Davila was very gracious. "Of course you may use these remarks. But +please don't use Don José's name in your article. It might be +misunderstood. You see, Don José has many enemies in the Jewish and +radical press in your country."</p> + +<p>"On my honor as a Girl Scout," she said, "I'll use the quotes but not +the names."</p> + +<p>"You've got quite a story there," Hall said. He was looking into the mob +on the dance floor for a sign of Jerry. Her red hair was not to be +found, but Margaret Skidmore, dancing with a bemedaled diplomat, caught +his eye and gestured that she would join him at the end of that dance. +She took him away from the group in a few minutes and led him toward the +American bar she had rigged up for the party.</p> + +<p>"They sure were talking at you for a while," she said. "I could see them +giving it to you with both barrels."</p> + +<p>"That they were. What is the lowdown, anyway? Are those boys completely +right about Tabio?"</p> + +<p>Margaret was amused. "Oh, they're a gang of hotheads, I warn you. But +nice. I suspect that our friend Giselle is going to find Don José +particularly nice."</p> + +<p>"Meow!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a cat. I just know Giselle."</p> + +<p>"Let's talk about San Hermano politics. I think you know plenty in that +little head of yours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do. But tonight's a party. I've got to be Daddy's good little +Hostess."</p> + +<p>"Like it?"</p> + +<p>"Bores me silly," Margaret said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we can talk some other time?"</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow would be swell. I have to go to my place in Juarez early in +the morning. Why don't you come out for lunch? It's a two-hour ride by +train from San Hermano. I think you can make a train at eleven."</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow?" Hall hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd make it," the girl said with a sudden intensity.</p> + +<p>"It's a date."</p> + +<p>"I'll meet you at the station."</p> + +<p>They joined her father and one of the Embassy secretaries at the bar. +Hall had a Cuba Libre, and was introduced to a South American painter. +He listened to the painter talk to the Ambassador about the beauties of +Arizona, watched J. Burton Skidmore gravely shake hands with the painter +and mutter, "<i>Con mucho gusto</i>." Then the painter asked Margaret to +dance and, when she left, Hall wandered off to look for Jerry.</p> + +<p>He found her at the punch bowl with Ansaldo. "May I ask Miss Olmstead +for this dance?" he asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Just this one dance," Jerry said, "I'll be right back."</p> + +<p>She put her cheek against his, softly hummed the tune the band was +playing.</p> + +<p>"It's nice to have you in my arms," he said.</p> + +<p>"It's nice to be in your arms."</p> + +<p>He held her closer. They danced well together. So well that when Jerry +said it would be better if they did not dance again that night, Hall +made up his mind to leave at once. "I can't hang around and watch you +dancing with Ansaldo all night," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why, Massa Hall," she said, "Ah swain Ah do believe you-all are +jealous!"</p> + +<p>"Did Duarte give you English lessons in one rumba, too?"</p> + +<p>"You're a goof," she laughed.</p> + +<p>He took her back to Ansaldo, paid his respects to the Ambassador, and +looked for Duarte. The Mexican was talking to the tall young wife of the +Vichy Ambassador.</p> + +<p>"Felipe," Hall tugged at Duarte's sleeve, "I am afraid that I must go +now."</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you, if you're alone. Madame, <i>enchanté</i> ..." He winked at +Hall as he kissed Madame la Comtesse's hand. "Now we must pay our +respects to our host."</p> + +<p>"I already have."</p> + +<p>"Come with me while I do. I never miss it. He has kept me from +squandering my money. I bet with myself on him, and I always lose. So +Felipe pays Duarte, and Duarte supports Felipe."</p> + +<p>"What the hell are you babbling about now?"</p> + +<p>"Your Ambassador. He is an original, Mateo. For three years he draws me +to his parties as a lodestone draws baser metals. In three years, he has +learned exactly three words of Spanish: <i>'Con mucho gusto</i>.' Of course +he still says them with a gringo accent, but anyone can recognize what +he means.</p> + +<p>"For three years I am waiting for him to learn a new word, any word. +<i>Si. No. Pan. Mantequilla.</i> Right now, I'd settle for just one new +word.</p> + +<p>"In the beginning, when I was green in the business of diplomacy, I was +younger and more optimistic. Then I would not have settled for a word. I +wanted a whole new phrase. Nothing complicated, you understand. Any +simple phrase would have satisfied me. <i>Tiene usted un fósforo?</i> Or +even—<i>Dónde está la sala de caballeros?</i> But no. Tennyson's brook +burbles forever, and unto eternity J. Burton Skidmore will not learn +more than his three words, and damn it, he won't even learn how to speak +them correctly."</p> + +<p>"And you're still betting on him?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" Duarte said. "We stupid Mexican peons have such a deep +faith in mankind that we are always betrayed."</p> + +<p>"Here comes the Ambassador now."</p> + +<p>"<i>Oiga!</i>" Duarte stopped Skidmore, took his hand, and let loose a stream +of Mexican obscenities, spoken in dulcet, smiling tones. When he paused +for breath, Skidmore smiled genially, bowed slightly from the hips, and +said, "<i>Con mucho gusto</i>."</p> + +<p>Hall nearly collapsed with laughter when he and Duarte reached the +street. "You bastard," he said, "you'll kill me before my time."</p> + +<p>"Let's have a drink before you die."</p> + +<p>"Sure. But let's run over to the Bolivar first. I want to see if there's +a message. Besides, we could stand some fresh air."</p> + +<p>Duarte agreed. "I saw Fernandez and Vardieno trying to gas you," he +said. "You could use some air."</p> + +<p>"You're not kidding, Felipe."</p> + +<p>"How do you like the Falange in San Hermano?"</p> + +<p>"You mean Fernandez and his friends?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. That Pepito Fernandez, there is an <i>hijo de la chingada</i> for +you, Mateo. Once, when he was keeping a woman in Paris ..." and Duarte +was off on a long hilarious story about the publisher and his lady of +the hour. He was still telling the story when they reached the darkened +Plaza de la Republica and Hall suggested that they cut across the +cobbles rather than walk two-thirds of the way around the square.</p> + +<p>Hall stepped off the sidewalk and took three steps before he noticed the +large Rolls-Royce bearing down on them with her throttle wide open and +her lights off. "Jump!" he shouted, but Duarte, who saw it first, had +already yanked Hall back to the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>"Get behind this pillar, quick!" Duarte had a small pistol in his hand. +He stood watching the Rolls roar across the Plaza and disappear into the +alley leading to the Avenida de la Liberacion.</p> + +<p>"It's almost like old times," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"He tried to kill you, Mateo."</p> + +<p>"Better put your gun away. And we'll have that drink first, I think."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to phone for a car from the Mexican Embassy from the next +phone, <i>chico</i>. Those bastards weren't playing."</p> + +<p>"Put the gun away. It was a bluff."</p> + +<p>"You mean you expected it?"</p> + +<p>"Hell, no! I didn't think it would take so soon. But they had no +intention of killing me tonight."</p> + +<p>"The Arrows?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>Duarte put the gun in his pocket. "I don't understand. It seems a little +too subtle for the Falange. Are you working for your government now?"</p> + +<p>"No. They turned me down. They said I was pro-Loyalist during the war. +Right now that makes you a Red in Washington. I'm traveling on my own."</p> + +<p>"On your own?"</p> + +<p>"I'm well-heeled. My last book sold like hell. So now I'm young Don +Quixote."</p> + +<p>"And your Sancho Panza?"</p> + +<p>"I have none. Or rather, I have thousands of them. Exiles. Taxi drivers. +Union leaders. Communists. First Secretaries of Mexican Embassies."</p> + +<p>"What are you after?"</p> + +<p>"The Falange."</p> + +<p>"Good. I can help you, <i>chico</i>."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to. Wait, I'm going into the hotel for a minute. Come on +along. I'll only be a second."</p> + +<p>Duarte took a seat in the lobby while Hall talked to Souza. There was +still no letter from Havana, but Souza had some information about the +Renault Androtten had used. "It is a for-hire car owned by the Phoenix +Garage on Reyes Street."</p> + +<p>"Can you find out who hired it the other night?"</p> + +<p>"That will not be so easy, <i>Compañero</i> Hall. The mechanics in the +Phoenix are not union members. But we are trying to reach someone there. +Perhaps by tomorrow we will know."</p> + +<p>"There's something else you can find out. Perhaps from the Mechanics +Union. Find out how many Rolls-Royce roadsters there are in San Hermano. +I know it will be hard, but it's important."</p> + +<p>"I will try. Must you know soon?"</p> + +<p>"Very soon, Fernando. A Rolls-Royce roadster, it was painted black or +dark blue, I think, and just tried to run down Duarte and me in the +Plaza."</p> + +<p>Souza made some notes on a slip of paper. "Maybe we can find out +tonight," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good. I'll be back in an hour. Is Androtten in his room?"</p> + +<p>"No. He's been out all evening."</p> + +<p>Duarte knew a quiet little bar a few blocks from the Bolivar. "They call +it a lover's retreat," he said when they got there. "You can see why." +Most of the tables were surrounded with lattice walls, and those tables +which were occupied were monopolized by couples who looked into one +another's eyes and said little.</p> + +<p>"There's Ansaldo's <i>maricón</i>," Duarte laughed. "In the table at the +back. I know the boy who's with him, too. He's a blue blood from the +Vichy Embassy."</p> + +<p>Hall watched Marina and the French boy. They had pink drinks made with +gin and grenadine and raw eggs. The French boy was giggling. "The +bastards," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Sit here and order a Cuba Libre for me," Duarte said. "I'm going to +phone for a car."</p> + +<p>Now that the action had begun, Hall felt better. The tension had been +broken. Hands were starting to be shown. Now the moves would come more +quickly, he thought, and they would be more definite in form. Diverse +facts would synthesize, and when the letter came from Havana, perhaps +the whole thing would start to form one pattern.</p> + +<p>"We can't talk here," Duarte said. "Let's have a drink and then, when my +car comes, we'll go to my house. I rented a place on the beach."</p> + +<p>"Sorry, boy. That's out tonight. Have to stick around the hotel."</p> + +<p>"But we should talk, Mateo."</p> + +<p>"I'll have breakfast with you at your house. Do you eat in?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes. We'll eat in tomorrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock too early?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'll get you out of bed, Felipe. Well, here's to Mexico!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_seven" id="Chapter_seven"></a><i>Chapter seven</i></h2> + + +<p>It was not quite six when the phone next to Hall's bed rang and a tired +Souza said, "Your driver is on the way up to your room, Señor."</p> + +<p>Hall admitted Pepe a moment later. "What is it?" he asked. Unshaven, +heavy-eyed, the big Asturiano seemed thoroughly upset.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nada</i>," he said. "It is just time." He went to the window, locked the +shutters, and held his finger to his lips. With his other hand, he first +pointed to Ansaldo's room and then to his ear.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Hall said, raising his voice. "Thank you for waking me. Sit down +and have a smoke while I dress." He gave Pepe a pencil and a sheet of +paper.</p> + +<p>Pepe wrote: "The Englishman Fielding was killed three hours ago."</p> + +<p>"How?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>The driver vigorously pointed to the street. "You will miss your train, +Señor," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'll hurry." Hall dressed quickly, shaved, and went downstairs with +Pepe. They got into the car and Pepe headed in the direction of the +railroad terminal.</p> + +<p>"Fielding was run down by an automobile near his house," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"Was it a Rolls-Royce?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. There was only one witness. An old woman. She said that +he was walking across the street and the automobile just hit him and +kept on going. She said it looked as if he walked into the car."</p> + +<p>"Who is the old woman?"</p> + +<p>"A farmer's wife. She was on her way to the market with a wagon of +meal."</p> + +<p>"Didn't she describe the car?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, Mateo. The Englishman died instantly. He had a gun in +his pocket when they found him. Didn't have a chance to use it against +his murderers."</p> + +<p>"Where are we going now?"</p> + +<p>"No place. I just pointed our noses toward the railroad for the benefit +of anyone watching us from the hotel."</p> + +<p>"Oh. I have an appointment at the beach at eight o'clock. Let's have +some coffee until we're ready to go."</p> + +<p>Pepe drove to a café near the Transport Union building. They found a +table in the back of the place. "Do you know any of the Englishman's +friends?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Not many."</p> + +<p>"Did you know his friend Harrington?"</p> + +<p>The name left Pepe cold. He was certain that he had never met Harrington +or heard the name mentioned. Nor did he know anything about Fielding's +employees. "His secretary is a middle-aged Hermanita. She lives alone +with a parrot and minds her own business. I knew a man who was her lover +once, but that was fifteen years ago."</p> + +<p>"Do you know much about Felipe Duarte?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure. But why?"</p> + +<p>"I'm to meet him at eight this morning."</p> + +<p>Pepe looked at the clock. "Then let's go," he said. "Sometimes Duarte is +like a crazy man, but he is a good friend."</p> + +<p>"Does he know you?"</p> + +<p>"We have met many times. Did you know him in Spain?"</p> + +<p>They went to the car, and Hall told Pepe about some of Duarte's +legendary feats in the war against the fascists. He was in the midst of +a story about the Ebro retreat when they reached Duarte's cottage.</p> + +<p>Duarte came to the door wearing a towel around his middle. "So you got +up?" he laughed. "And you got Pepe up, too! Come in and fill your guts." +He led them through the small living room, put on a pair of shorts and +mismated huaraches.</p> + +<p>"We'll all eat in the kitchen," he said. "I'll bet you forgot that I'm a +wonderful cook, Mateo." He served a twelve-egg omelet whose pungent +fires brought tears to Hall's eyes.</p> + +<p>"This is really going to kill me," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"The lousy gringo," Duarte said to Pepe. "He's got a gringo stomach."</p> + +<p>Pepe defended Hall loyally. After he had his coffee, he rubbed his +bristling beard and asked Duarte if he had a razor that could cut +through steel wire. Duarte took him to the bathroom.</p> + +<p>"Shave and bathe while I talk to Mateo," he said.</p> + +<p>When they were alone, Hall asked him if he knew Fielding. "Sure, I do. +He's the one English planter in South America who knows that the world +is round."</p> + +<p>"He's dead." Hall told Duarte all that he knew about Fielding's death, +and what little he knew about Fielding himself. Duarte listened in +stunned silence.</p> + +<p>"And you still think that attempt on you last night was a bluff?" he +asked when Hall was done.</p> + +<p>"I'm more convinced than ever that it was a bluff. But whoever drove +that car knew that an hour later Fielding was going to be killed by a +car. And I'll bet that it was not the same car that made a pass at us +last night."</p> + +<p>"Then you're hiding something from me, Mateo."</p> + +<p>"The hell I am. I'm going to tell you everything I know. Just give me a +chance. Do you know Juan Antonio Martinez?"</p> + +<p>"The young teacher?"</p> + +<p>Hall told Duarte about Juan Antonio's phone call to <i>Mundo Obrero</i> and +how it reached the Cross and the Sword in a matter of minutes. +"Fernandez and his boy friends told me about the phone call at the +Embassy last night. They warned me that it meant the Reds were going to +prepare an attempt on my life. Now my cue is to run to them for help +because of the Rolls-Royce in the Plaza."</p> + +<p>"Will you go through with it?"</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow. But I don't like the idea. They don't act as if they knew +about my record in Spain. But it's crazy to think they're going to +remain in the dark."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing today?"</p> + +<p>"I'm catching the eleven o'clock train to Juarez. I have an idea I'll +come back with a pretty good line on the Cross and Sword camarilla."</p> + +<p>Duarte laughed. "I have an idea you'll come back from Juarez with +something else," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not today, Felipe. I'd like to, but not today."</p> + +<p>"She's a good piece."</p> + +<p>"Forget it. I'm after stronger meat today."</p> + +<p>"Like that nurse with the red hair?"</p> + +<p>"I'm serious, Felipe. And we haven't got much time. Listen, did you ever +hear of a guy named Harrington? Fielding said he was his associate, and +that he knew a lot about the Falange at the waterfront."</p> + +<p>The name meant nothing to Duarte. "But then, I didn't know Fielding too +well. I've only talked to him once; he wanted to find out if I had known +his son."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've got to find Harrington, if he exists," Hall said. "And one +other thing: Fielding had dinner with the new British Naval Intelligence +officer for this port the night before last."</p> + +<p>"Commander New?"</p> + +<p>"That's the guy. You've got to see New this morning. Better send a +messenger to the British Embassy with a sealed note. Don't use the +phone."</p> + +<p>"What do I say in the note?"</p> + +<p>"Anything. The idea is that you've got to stop the British Embassy from +raising a stink about Fielding for at least a week. Let the Falange +think the British Embassy accepts the police verdict on Fielding's +death. In the paper this morning the police described it as an +unfortunate accident."</p> + +<p>"Some accident!"</p> + +<p>"Act as if you know plenty when you see New. You'd better have him visit +you, Felipe. Tell him that in a week you'll have the true facts."</p> + +<p>"Will I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Well, tell him you think you'll have the full facts. And +find out all you can about Harrington, if New knows anything. See if you +can arrange for me to meet Harrington."</p> + +<p>"I understand." Duarte looked at his watch and shouted to Pepe to get +out of the bathroom. "We've got to get started," he said to Hall. "If +I'm to stop Commander New, I'd better not lose any more time."</p> + +<p>"Good. Where will you be tonight at about nine? That's when the return +train gets in."</p> + +<p>"Call me right here. What name will you use? Pedro?"</p> + +<p>"Pedro is O.K."</p> + +<p>"If we have to meet tonight, I'll tell Pepe where we can do it. I'd +better tell him now. Have some more coffee while I dress, <i>chico</i>. And +don't worry." Duarte went upstairs.</p> + +<p>Hall endorsed a hundred-dollar money order and ran after Duarte. "One +other favor, Felipe. Ride to town with Pepe and me, and after I get out +at the railroad station, please force that Asturian mule to accept this +check. He's refused to take a cent from me since I'm in town—and I +found out how much gasoline is selling for in San Hermano."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The train to Juarez was on the line to the north which had been built in +Segura's time. The graft which had gone in to the building of the road +was now scattered over the far corners of the earth. Somewhere in Paris, +one of the chief contractors still lived on his share of the booty, +paying varying fees to the Nazis for butter and woolens. In New York, +one of Segura's army of illegitimate sons was studying medicine on the +proceeds of some shares in the line which had belonged to his mother. +Estates whose rolling lands touched the rails on either side belonged to +old Seguristas who had bought the lands with the money they had managed +to steal from the project. The money was gone, but the steel cars the +builders had bought in Indiana and Pennsylvania remained. It was still a +good railroad, and even though it now belonged to the government, the +trains not only ran on time but were much cleaner and charged lower +fares than before.</p> + +<p>Hall watched the green countryside until the rolling landscape and the +rhythm of the wheels made him drowsy. He turned away from the window, +opened his newspaper to stay awake. The news was vague. The bulletin +from the Presidencia stated simply that Ansaldo had spent four hours +with Tabio but had issued no verdict. Those were exactly the words, "no +verdict," and reading them again Hall grew angry. He tried to figure out +some foolproof way of cabling to Havana, but the censorship hazards were +too great.</p> + +<p>The inside pages had little of interest. Bits of international and +Washington news. A feature story from Mexico City on the great religious +revival that was sweeping Mexico and threatening the Marxist forces in +the government. This was in <i>El Imparcial</i>, and Hall recognized the +byline of the author, a prominent lieutenant of the Mexican fascist +leader, Gomez Morin. There was a full page of local society items, dry +stuff about weddings, dinners, parties, the goings and comings of the +smart set. And the inevitable puff story, this one about the "great and +noted lawyer" Benito Sanchez, about whom no one had ever heard a thing +and who would sink back into obscurity until he paid for another +personality feature at so much per column, cash on the barrel. Hall +forced himself through this flowery account of the lawyer's ancestry, +wit, humanitarianism, piety, fertility, education, patriotism, skill in +court, and kindness to his mother. Try as he could, the hack who wrote +this story had not been able to completely fill three columns, the +accepted length for such compositions. The bottom of the third column +had therefore been filled with a stock item in small type: "Ships +Arriving and Leaving Today and Tomorrow."</p> + +<p>Mechanically, Hall read the shipping notes. The <i>Drottning-holm</i> was in +port. The <i>Estrella de Santiago</i> was returning to Havana. Tomorrow, the +<i>Marques de Avillar</i> was due from Barcelona. Tomorrow the <i>Ouro Preto</i> +was sailing back to Lisbon. The <i>City of Seattle</i> was now six days +overdue; U. S. Lines, Inc., had no explanation. Mails for the <i>Ouro +Preto</i> closed at midnight.</p> + +<p>Hall turned the page and stopped. The rustle of the paper struck a +hidden chord in his mind. He turned back to the shipping news, read it +carefully. The <i>Marques de Avillar</i> became as great as the <i>Normandie</i> +and the <i>Queen Mary</i> rolled into one. He recalled the conversation he +had overheard between Ansaldo and Marina. <i>Find out if they came +today.... Too dangerous to come by Clipper.</i> But by Spanish boat?</p> + +<p>He went back to the conversation. Yes, that was exactly the way they +talked. And after the talking came the rustling of a paper. Not +evidence, of course, and even in wartime you couldn't shoot two bastards +like them unless you knew more. But was it worth following up? Perhaps +Margaret Skidmore would be able to supply another piece of the jigsaw. +She had a sharp tongue, and this meant a sharp head. Sharp and tough, +and Felipe was probably right about her other value, but if it happened +at all it would have to happen when this mess was cleared up.</p> + +<p>The train pulled into Juarez on time. Hall got off and gaped at the +station. It was covered from ground to roof with the blazing "tiger +vines" whose orange orchid-shaped flowers were the unofficial flag of +the country. Margaret was waiting for Hall under the station shed. "Hi," +she shouted, "have a nice trip?"</p> + +<p>"Swell. Let me look at you under the sunlight." In a tennis eye shade, +green sports dress, and rope-soled <i>zapatos</i> she seemed to be more of a +woman than she was in evening clothes.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"You'll do," he laughed. "It's just that evening clothes rarely reveal +more than the size of a woman's shopping budget."</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed easily. "You mean that you can't tell whether a girl in +an evening gown has knock knees or a wooden leg. I have neither. There's +my car. That little jalopy."</p> + +<p>"How far is your place from the station?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"It starts right here." Margaret pointed to a green field to the left of +the road. "I have four thousand acres between the tracks and the main +house, and then there's a lot of scrub forest behind the house that +belongs to me."</p> + +<p>"All yours?"</p> + +<p>The car was raising great clouds of dust on the dry dirt road. "Uh huh. +The money came from Mother's side of the family. Since she died, I more +or less keep the old man in embassies. She left him only cigarette +money." She was very cold and matter of fact about it.</p> + +<p>"I see," he said.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so shocked. I always talk the way I feel. The old man's a +stuffed shirt and you know it. If he hadn't married money the best he'd +get out of life would be a career as a floor-walker in Macy's. No, he's +too aristocratic for Macy's. In Wanamaker's Philadelphia store. Do me a +favor. There's a big heavy ledger in the side door pocket. Take it out +and put it on my lap. No, with the binding facing the radiator. Thanks."</p> + +<p>"What's it for?"</p> + +<p>She opened the front ventilator in the cowl. The gush of wind which +poured in lifted her skirt to the edge of the book. "See?" she said. +"Keeps my skirt from blowing over my head when I open the vent."</p> + +<p>Hall glanced at her bare legs. "Some day you'll catch cold," he smiled. +"What have you got planted on your land? Looks to me like soy."</p> + +<p>"It is soy. Three thousand acres."</p> + +<p>"That makes you a farmer."</p> + +<p>"The hell it does. That makes me an Ambassador's daughter. The +Rockefeller committee planted it, with local help, of course. It's part +of a demonstration project. The idea is to teach them how to grow new +crops so that after the war Detroit can keep the home price on soy down +by importing just enough soy to keep it growing in South America. All I +did was donate my land."</p> + +<p>"What happens to the proceeds when you sell the crop?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I suppose the old man will make a big show of donating the proceeds +to the Red Cross in San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"That the house?"</p> + +<p>"That's my hideaway. The old man can't come out here. He's violently +allergic to soy beans."</p> + +<p>She started to talk about the soy-bean project and the by-products of +its crop. The words flowed without effort. She knew the facts, the +theories, the statistics, the chemistry of the soy-bean industry as well +as she knew the road to her house. She discussed them as she might +yesterday's weather, or a neighbor's dog. I don't give a damn about soy +beans, she seemed to be saying, I just know about them because I was +roped in to lend my land and I'll be damned if I'll give my land without +knowing why.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's enough talk about soy, I guess," she said when she turned +off the road to the lane leading to her house.</p> + +<p>"I don't imagine there's anything else to know about it," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Here we are, Matt."</p> + +<p>"Say, it is a nice house."</p> + +<p>"Hollow tile and stucco. I found the plans in an old issue of <i>House and +Garden</i>."</p> + +<p>"I'll be damned. It looks as Spanish as the Cathedral."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it should," Margaret said. "It's supposed to be an authentic New +Mexican ranch house. Let's go in and get a drink."</p> + +<p>Like the railroad station, the house was also covered with tiger vines. +It was built around a flagstone patio. Leaded glass doors opened from +the patio to the two-story-high beamed living room, the kitchen, and the +back corridor. This corridor opened on both the living room and the +stairs to the upstairs quarters. Inside, the living room was furnished +like a quality dude ranch—hickory and raw-hide furniture, Mexican +<i>serapes</i> and dress sombreros hanging on the walls and over the large +stone fireplace, a Western plank bar with a battered spittoon at the +rail and a lithograph of the Anheuser-Busch Indians scalping General +Custer. The saloon art classic, of course, hung in a yellow oak frame +behind the bar.</p> + +<p>"Holy God," Hall said, "when I was a kid this litho used to give me +nightmares. It used to hang in the dirty window of Holbein's saloon on +West Third Street in Cleveland—that's my home town—and every time I +passed it I used to see more gore pouring down old Custer's throat."</p> + +<p>Margaret took off her eye shade and went behind the bar. "A drink should +drive away that terrible memory," she said. "Scotch?"</p> + +<p>"Black rum, if you have it."</p> + +<p>"Coming right up. That's a pirate's drink, though. Although when you +come right down to it, you do look like a freebooter."</p> + +<p>Hall had his foot on the bar. "Better smile when you say that, Pard," he +said.</p> + +<p>She smiled out of the side of her mouth and laughed. "Here's to Captain +Kidd," she said, raising her Scotch.</p> + +<p>"This is good rum."</p> + +<p>"Wait. I can improve it." She reached below the bar for a small wooden +platter and a lemon. Deftly, she carved off a slice of thick skin, +twisted it above an empty glass, dropped the peel into the glass and +covered it with rum. "Try it this way."</p> + +<p>"It is good. So you're a bartender, too!"</p> + +<p>Margaret refilled her own glass and sat down on the edge of a wheeled +settee. "Right now I'm farmer, bartender, chambermaid and cook. If you +must know, outside of the dogs in the yard and the horses in the shed, +we're the only living things within five miles. All my help is in the +next town celebrating some saint's day or something."</p> + +<p>"You'll manage to survive," Hall smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'm a pretty self-sufficient lady," she said. "Or hadn't you noticed?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not blind."</p> + +<p>"Hungry?"</p> + +<p>"I could eat. What's cooking?"</p> + +<p>"Sandwiches. Cold beef sandwiches and coffee. And if you're nice you can +have some <i>montecado à la</i> Skidmore."</p> + +<p>"Real ice cream?"</p> + +<p>"No. But a reasonable facsimile. Let's go to the kitchen. You can help +me carry the tray and stuff."</p> + +<p>They ate at the monastery table in the living room. Margaret told Hall +the story of how she had supervised the building of the house and then +ordered her furniture from a dozen different stores between Houston and +San Hermano. She spoke of plumbing and artesian wells and wiring systems +with the same detailed knowledge she had displayed of soy-bean culture.</p> + +<p>"Do you know San Hermano politics as well as you know soy beans and +housing?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Better," she smiled. "I'm closer to it. But we've got plenty of time to +talk about San Hermano. I thought we'd saddle up two horses and go for a +ride in the backwoods. Do you ride?"</p> + +<p>"After a fashion. I spent a summer vacation as a ranch hand in Wyoming +once."</p> + +<p>Margaret concentrated on Hall's feet for a minute. "Oh, I can fix you up +with boots and breeches. You sit here and I'll go on up, change, and +find you riding things. Just turn on a radio and relax or fix yourself a +drink while I'm changing."</p> + +<p>She went upstairs to her room. Hall lit his pipe, turned on the radio. +He found a program of Mexican marimba music.</p> + +<p>"That's swell," Margaret shouted through the open transom of her door.</p> + +<p>He could hear the water splashing into the bath upstairs. He lay back +and closed his eyes, the radio keeping him awake. In San Hermano, the +announcer looked at the studio clock, gave the station's call letters, +and read another "no change" bulletin on the health of the President.</p> + +<p>"Matt ..."</p> + +<p>"Ready so soon?"</p> + +<p>"Come on up to my room. It's the third door to the left of the stairs."</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"Would you shut off the radio, too?"</p> + +<p>He flipped the radio switch and climbed the stairs to the upper landing. +Margaret's door was slightly ajar. "That you, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"The old pirate himself." He pushed the door open.</p> + +<p>Margaret was standing near her bed, freshly bathed and completely naked. +"I changed my mind," she said, thickly.</p> + +<p>"Margaret ..."</p> + +<p>"No. Don't talk." She had her arms around him, her mouth against his +lips. The pine salts of her bath and the sharp perfume in her hair and +behind her ears choked in Hall's throat.</p> + +<p>"You're biting my lips," she said.</p> + +<p>He picked her up and carried her to the bed while she undid the buttons +of his shirt with closed eyes and steady fingers. "I knew you were a +pirate," she smiled.</p> + +<p>Hall kicked his shoes off, drew the blinds.</p> + +<p>"Are you surprised?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He locked the door and joined Margaret. "Don't talk," he said. "You kiss +too well to talk in bed."</p> + +<p>There was the pine scent and the perfume and the savage odor of whisky +on hot breath and then there was the faint saline taste of blood on his +tongue and the rigid breasts of the girl pressed against his bare skin +and she was trying to gasp an insane gibberish of love words and sex +words and sounds that were not words at all. He shut off the gibberish +with his hard mouth and then he started to lose himself in the devils +that were coursing through his blood and the sharp pain of her nails +digging fitfully into the back of his shoulders and the taut smoothness +of her writhing thighs. For a searing moment the emptiness and the +agonies of the past four years rose to the surface like a two-edged +razor in his brain, rose slashing wildly to torture and torment, and +then, as suddenly, they were lost in the devils and the blood and the +white, pine-scented thighs of the girl and Hall stopped thinking and +gave himself completely to the one, to the only one, to the only thing +that could answer the devils and the pain and the moment.</p> + +<p>Then she lay at his side, limp, whispering, "God, oh my God, oh my God," +and smiling at him with tear-filled eyes.</p> + +<p>"Hello."</p> + +<p>"Was I good? Was I, Matt?"</p> + +<p>And he realized how adept she actually was at it. Sex was a soy bean, +something you used, developed, exploited. "You're very good at this sort +of thing," he said, "and you know it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not always good," she said. "This is one thing that takes two for +perfection. Like now." She reached into the drawer of the night table. +"Cigarette?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Light mine for me, darling. I'm half dead."</p> + +<p>She smoked her cigarette in happy, satisfied silence, moving closer to +Hall and putting her free arm under his neck. Then, with an abrupt +movement, she ground the butt into the ash tray and kissed the scar on +Hall's chin. "Who cut you up?" she asked. "Some Frenchwoman's husband?" +But before he could answer she was lying on his chest with her open +mouth pressing heavily against his lips.</p> + +<p>This time he could ignore the devils until the hot furies that drove the +girl finally moved him to respond. But what had earlier been an +experience which reached in and shook the guts was now a +performance—overture, theme, variations, theme and soaring climax and +maybe it was what she wanted and maybe it wasn't but baby that's the +best you get this trip. When it was done she seemed happy enough. She +smoked another cigarette and then she fell into a light sleep, her head +nuzzling under his arm pit like a puppy's.</p> + +<p>Hall lay watching the sun rays as they stretched between the shuttered +windows and the smoothness of Margaret's glistening back.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about?" she asked when she awoke.</p> + +<p>"Really want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Uh huh."</p> + +<p>"About a girl from Ohio."</p> + +<p>"Your wife?"</p> + +<p>"No. Just a girl I know. I've been wondering if she has freckles on her +back."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, you're frank."</p> + +<p>"When are you going back to San Hermano?"</p> + +<p>"Tonight. I'll drive you back. I think we should get ready. The help +might start straggling back in an hour or so." She kissed him tenderly, +then savagely. "No, but this is silly," she said. "We'll get caught." +She rolled away and got out of bed.</p> + +<p>Later in the living room, Margaret made two rum drinks. She had changed +her tennis dress for a dark suit, and her fingers now carried three +elaborate rings. "Now I'm dressed for town again," she laughed. "Without +my rings I'd feel naked." One of them was a wedding ring; Hall asked no +questions about it.</p> + +<p>"Are you still interested in San Hermano politics?" Margaret asked.</p> + +<p>"Sort of."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Everything. Fernandez and his friends had one set of ideas. I guess you +know what they are. The Tabio crowd speaks differently. What's the +lowdown?"</p> + +<p>Margaret went to the wide window of the room. "Look," she said, "see all +that land between the fence and the top of that hill? I've got some of +it in soy and the rest is just lying fallow. What do you think it's +worth?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say."</p> + +<p>"Neither can anyone else. That all depends on the politics down here."</p> + +<p>"That's true back home too, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"In a way, yes." She poured another drink for herself and sat down on +the settee. "I'll let you in on a secret, Matt. I'll tell you how I came +to buy this place. Sit down. It's a long story. And it leads right into +the thing you're interested in."</p> + +<p>"When did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"Two years ago. A young mining engineer in San Hermano met me at a party +given at the University. He wanted me to put him in touch with an +American financing outfit. On a field trip he had undertaken as a +student, the young engineer inadvertently stumbled across a treasure in +manganese. The deposits lay in an area he alone could reveal, and for a +consideration and a share in the profits, he was willing to lead the +right parties to the site of his discovery.</p> + +<p>"I became the right party," Margaret said. "The soy is growing over a +fortune in manganese."</p> + +<p>"What happened to the young engineer?"</p> + +<p>"He's in the States. I got him a scholarship in a good mining school. +When he gets out, he'll be able to run the works down here."</p> + +<p>"You don't miss a trick, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Darling," she laughed, "my grandfather didn't come up from a plow on +his muscles alone. But why don't you ask me why I'm not mining my +manganese now?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose that's where the politics comes in," he said.</p> + +<p>"Now you're catching on. You see, Matt, anyone who didn't know the score +down here might start mining like mad. There's a war on, the Germans +have grabbed most of Russia's manganese fields, and Russia had a +practical corner on the world's manganese supply. It's almost worth its +weight in platinum today."</p> + +<p>"Then why in the hell don't you cash in?"</p> + +<p>"Because I intend to live for a long time after the war, darling. And +I'd like something for my old age. Not inflation-swelled war dollars, +but real hard money. That's where the politics comes in, Matt. It costs +like hell to start a mine. I'd have to dip into my reserves to get it +started, or get partners and let them pay for the works. But they +wouldn't do it for nothing. They'd wind up with an unhealthy share of +the profits. This is my baby, and under certain circumstances I can run +it by myself and make money at it. But those circumstances are +determined by the politics here."</p> + +<p>"By that," Hall said, "I take it you mean Tabio's politics?"</p> + +<p>Margaret was not smiling now. Her eyes had narrowed down to sharp slits, +and although she talked as fluently about the mine and Tabio as she had +earlier discussed soy beans, her voice had taken on a sharp, metallic +edge. "I most certainly do," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then you agree with Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd?"</p> + +<p>"Now don't tell me," she said, wearily, "that they are all a bunch of +dirty fascists."</p> + +<p>"I'm not telling you a thing. I'm here to get the lowdown, not to hang +labels on everyone in San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for that," she said. "I can give you the lowdown, if you +really want it."</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm here for."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sick of these smart-aleck pundits who are so quick to hang the +fascist label on everything they don't like," Margaret said. "I'm not +afraid of labels. I'm only interested in the facts. I'm interested in my +manganese operation. I'm interested in protecting what I have. And I'll +fight against anyone who tries to steal what's rightfully mine."</p> + +<p>"You've been threatened?"</p> + +<p>"Not directly. That's the hell of it. If not for me, or someone else +with as much money to risk as I'm risking, this manganese would be +useless to everyone. But I'm not going to sink a fortune into the mine +only to have the cream taken away from me."</p> + +<p>"By Tabio?"</p> + +<p>A slight smile touched Margaret's lips. "Not exactly," she said. "I'm a +little more rational than Fernandez and his friends. It's not Tabio I'm +afraid of, darling. It's the thing he's started. You don't open a few +thousand schools all over a backward country and then expect the people +to remain the same. It's not only the kids who go to these schools; +grown-ups pack the same school houses every night. People don't want +things they don't know about. But when they go to school they start +learning about a million things they'd like to have—and none of these +are free. They begin to want modern houses and radios and refrigerators +and pianos—you have no idea what they begin to want, Matt!</p> + +<p>"The schools are only the beginning. Once the miners learn how to read +and write, the unions come along and flood them with printed propaganda +about higher wages. They tell the miners that higher wages mean higher +standards of living."</p> + +<p>"Don't they?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Not for the mine owners, dear," she said. "Higher wages mean lower +profits. And when you run a mine, the idea is to keep the profits up. +That's where the politics come in, Matt. You don't pass laws—as the +Popular Front has—forcing employers to bargain with the unions without +making the unions so powerful that they can and do elect whole blocs of +union deputies and senators. And then these blocs push through laws on +hospitalization and social security and death benefits that cut into a +mine owner's profits nearly as much as the wage increases.</p> + +<p>"In other words, Matt, it all boils down to dollars and cents. Tabio and +his ideas are great vote-catchers—but the costs are enormous. And these +costs don't come out of the pockets of the people who vote for the +Popular Front candidates."</p> + +<p>Hall watched her in fascination as she spoke. This was no mystic Pilar +Primo de Rivera, he thought, no hyper-thyroid hysteric falling on her +knees in the cathedral and then rushing out with blood in her eyes and +emptying a Mauser full of bullets into the warm bodies of housewives +shopping in the Madrid slums. Margaret's voice had not risen by one +note. Her hands were calm, she was still relaxed in the settee. If not +for the hard sharpness of her voice now, she might still be discussing +soy-bean culture or anything else as remote from her true interests.</p> + +<p>"Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd might be hysterical," Margaret +said, "but they are on the right track. The government has to change +quickly, or it will be too late for all of us. The Cross and Sword crowd +aren't really natives, you know. They're Spaniards. They got the scare +of their lives when Tabio's Spanish counterparts took over in Spain."</p> + +<p>"But why? They live here. Spain is an ocean away."</p> + +<p>"Money has a way of crossing oceans," Margaret said. "They all had +plenty invested in Spain. If Franco hadn't come along, Vardieno and +Davila and Quinones and a lot of other men you haven't met would have +been wiped out."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Franco a fascist?"</p> + +<p>"Labels don't mean a thing. I think democracy is the phoniest label in +the world, Matt. When it means a stable government, like we used to have +back home before the New Deal, I'm for it. But when it means the first +step on the road to collectivism, I'll take any Franco who comes along +to put an end to it. That goes for the Cross and Sword crowd, too. Or am +I all wrong?"</p> + +<p>Hall laughed, softly. "That's a rhetorical question," he said. "Let's +skip the rhetoric. Then things are really bad down here, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"They couldn't be much worse. I know it sounds harsh, but I think the +best thing Tabio could do for his country would be to die. With Gamburdo +in the Presidencia, you'd see a return to something resembling sanity +down here. He has a very sound approach."</p> + +<p>"But wouldn't he be too late? What could he do about the school system, +for instance?"</p> + +<p>"The Cross and Sword crowd want the schools closed down at once. They +want education returned to the Church. But Gamburdo is a good +politician," Margaret said. "He'd keep the schools open, but he'll clean +out the Ministry of Education from the very top down to the personnel of +the village schools. He'll simply turn it over to the Jesuits. They +won't have to open their own parochial schools; they'll control +Tabio's."</p> + +<p>"Have they enough teachers?"</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo told me that if they need teachers they'll import them from +Spain."</p> + +<p>"How about the labor laws?"</p> + +<p>"A law is no better than its enforcement. That's what I learned in law +school and it still goes. Can you imagine what would happen to the +Wagner Act if Hoover were back in the White House?"</p> + +<p>"You don't need too much of an imagination to figure that one out," Hall +said.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Margaret said, "Gamburdo will need more finesse than a +Hoover." There was the little matter of the arms everyone knew were in +the hands of the miners in the north. There was also the still painful +memory of the one-day general strike called by the transport workers and +the longshoremen when the Supreme Court delayed its decision on the +validity of the Tabio labor codes. Gamburdo, she explained, would have +to plan his acts like a military strategist. "Because unless he does, he +will need a military strategist to pull him out of the hole."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean a civil war?"</p> + +<p>That was exactly what Margaret did mean. But Gamburdo had a plan for +averting such a war, or, if it had to come, to guarantee the victory for +the forces of sound government when the issue was drawn. He would begin +gradually by restoring to their army commissions the old officers +trained in Segura's military college. This he would do before attempting +to circumvent the labor laws. "Then, when the war ends in Europe, a lot +of good professional military leaders will be out of jobs," she said. +"Gamburdo plans to give them jobs."</p> + +<p>"How about the troops? Will they be loyal to the new order?"</p> + +<p>Gamburdo had provided for this, too. The army would have the best of +everything; it would be made more attractive than life as a miner or a +soy-bean cultivator. "But a boy will have to have the O.K. of his priest +before he will be taken in. And what a priest learns at confession is +nothing to be ignored. The Church will keep the unreliable elements out +of the army." Once he had an army, Gamburdo would then be ready to +restore sound government in the nation.</p> + +<p>"He's a clever guy," Hall said. "I had a hunch he was the coming strong +man on the continent when I applied for an interview."</p> + +<p>Margaret thought that this was very funny. "Don't be a child," she +laughed. "He won't admit to anything like this for publication."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter. What counts in my business is that I'll be on +record as the first American to interview him, and that I'll get the +credit for discovering him before his name is a household word."</p> + +<p>"Right now all he'll talk is platitudes. But you might get him to talk +off the record. He's gotten around to telling me things. And stop +looking at your watch. I'll lock up and we can start back to town at +once. You'll be back in plenty of time to sleep with her tonight."</p> + +<p>"With whom?"</p> + +<p>"Whoever you have that date with. I know I should be nasty about it. But +I never demanded fidelity and I always hated men who demanded it of me. +That's the way we both are, darling, and as long as it goes off as good +as it did upstairs today we can expect to do it often." She left the +settee, walked over to Hall's chair, and kissed his ear. He slapped her +trim buttocks, shouted, "Cut it out!"</p> + +<p>"Let's get going," she said. "Time's a-wasting."</p> + +<p>Hall thought, as Margaret drove him back to San Hermano, that Pepe +Delgado would have approved of her skill as a driver just as much as he +would disapprove of her politics. The ledger on her lap, she pushed the +roadster through hairpin curves and back-country roads with a confidence +as cold as her reasoning about her manganese properties.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk to my hotel from the Embassy," he said, when they reached the +suburbs of San Hermano. "I could stand a little walk."</p> + +<p>"So you're meeting her in the lobby," Margaret laughed. She kissed him +fondly when she stopped the car near the Embassy. "Darling," she said, +"don't ask me to the Bolivar. But I have to go back to the farm in a few +days. I'll let you know ahead of time, and we can have a night +together."</p> + +<p>"Call me," Hall said. "Or I'll be calling you."</p> + +<p>An hour later he met Duarte in the home of one of the secretaries of the +Cuban Embassy. The Mexican had borrowed the home for the evening. "We +have at least two hours to talk here," Duarte told Hall. "My friend is +at the cinema."</p> + +<p>Duarte opened two bottles of cold beer, set one before Hall. He took a +long look at Hall and burst into laughter. "Did she give you any +information, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"You bastard," Hall said.</p> + +<p>Felipe Duarte doubled over with laughter. "Mateo the Detective!" he +chortled.</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Hall laughed. "So I was raped."</p> + +<p>"Raped is the right word, <i>chico</i>."</p> + +<p>"When did she take you into her bed, Felipe?"</p> + +<p>"Long ago. My first week in San Hermano. Then once more after that. I +gave way for an American aviator who came here to sell planes to the +government. He was succeeded in a week by two men, a local <i>señorito</i> +named Madariaga and the First Secretary of the French Embassy. After +that I just stopped noticing."</p> + +<p>"Who is her husband?"</p> + +<p>"She has no husband."</p> + +<p>"She was wearing a wedding ring, Felipe."</p> + +<p>"That's a new development. I never heard of her having a ring or a +husband."</p> + +<p>"She's a very clever girl, Felipe. And a confirmed fascist."</p> + +<p>"She's only a rich <i>puta</i>, Mateo. The hell with her."</p> + +<p>"She might be useful, Felipe. What happened to you today? Did you learn +anything?"</p> + +<p>Duarte shrugged his shoulders. He had little real information. "I saw +Commander New. He looked down his nose at me during our whole interview, +and then, like an English trader, he started to bargain with me. About +the week, I mean. He said that a week was too long. He would only give +me three days. Then—if I gave him no more information than you got from +the <i>puta</i> today, he goes to the police."</p> + +<p>"That's not so good."</p> + +<p>"Who knows? The counsellor of the British Embassy spent the whole day +going through Fielding's files with the widow. If they found those +reports you saw that night, maybe the Intelligence officer will give us +that full week."</p> + +<p>"Did you find out anything about Harrington?"</p> + +<p>"Commander New never heard of him, he says. Then I thought I would make +a real surprise for you. Souza arranged with some smart boys to search +Ansaldo's room with a fine comb. But they combed not a louse, Mateo. +They found nothing of interest except that Ansaldo's <i>maricón</i> is a +morphine addict."</p> + +<p>Hall lit a black cigar from the Cuban's private collection. "Where the +hell is my letter from Havana?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Take it easy, <i>chico</i>." Duarte opened a fresh bottle of beer for his +friend.</p> + +<p>"I'll be all right," Hall said. "I won't explode tonight."</p> + +<p>Duarte recalled an earlier occasion in a Madrid hospital, when a phone +call from the Paris office of the AP had made Hall lose his head. "To my +dying day," he told Hall, "I'll never forget those curses that shot out +of your guts."</p> + +<p>"Don't remind me," Hall said. "I get sick when I think of it again. That +was the time they held up my story on Guadalajara because they weren't +satisfied that I had definite proof that the troops captured by the +Republic were Italian regulars."</p> + +<p>The Mexican laughed. It was a laugh made bitter by the silver plate in +his skull. It covered an injury he had suffered in fighting the Italian +regulars at Guadalajara.</p> + +<p>Hall understood. "There are too many bastards in this world," he said. +"I wish curses alone could stop them. But we've got work to do. Pepe +didn't bring me here. He was busy on something else. I'll have to use +your driver. Have him drive me to some decent restaurant. I wish you'd +come along too."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me you're hungry?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot. But there's one thing your driver can do for us. Do you know +where the Compañía Transatlántica Española pier is located? Good. Just +have him drive very slowly past the pier on the way. I want to look it +over."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_eight" id="Chapter_eight"></a><i>Chapter eight</i></h2> + + +<p>Shortly after eight in the morning, Hall sat down at a table in a +waterfront café and ordered coffee and rolls. It was a small place with +a zinc bar in one corner, patronized largely by longshoremen and petty +customs officials. Hall chose a table which gave him a good view of the +Compañía Transatlántica Española dock diagonally across the street.</p> + +<p>On the dock there were the unmistakeable signs that the <i>Marques de +Avillar</i> was coming in on time. Minor customs officials in their blue +uniforms stood around in small, important looking knots, their hands +filled with papers and bundles of official forms. The passenger +gangplank, with the line's name splashed on its canvas sides in crimson +and gold letters, had been hauled on to the pier and lay waiting like a +rigid, outstretched hand for the incoming ship. A row of motley cabs +were lined up facing the pier, their drivers dozing or reading the +morning papers behind their wheels as they waited for the business from +the ship. Pepe was not only one of these drivers, but through the +transport union he had arranged to fill the cab line with trustworthy +anti-fascist drivers.</p> + +<p>Hall could see Pepe slouched behind the wheel of the LaSalle, his white +cap pushed way to the back of his massive head. The cab strategy was +Pepe's inspiration. It did away with the necessity of following any of +the cabs which picked up passengers whose moves might be of interest to +Hall. As a further precaution, Souza had arranged through members of his +union to get an instant line on any of the <i>Marques de Avillar</i> +passengers who registered at a San Hermano hotel that day.</p> + +<p>A letter written in Spanish with purple ink in a fine, delicate woman's +hand lay on the metal table between the butter pat and the carafe of +water. Hall read it again as he stirred his coffee.</p> + +<p>"Beloved Mateo," the letter began, and Hall chuckled at Santiago's +current dodge, "Why did you leave me so suddenly without even giving me +a chance to explain? It is you and you alone whom I love, <i>cariño</i>, and +any thoughts that you have to the contrary you must banish from your +dear head at this instant. Oh, <i>cariño</i>, since you left without a +further word I have had no rest, no peace, no sleep...." He skimmed +through the first two pages of such protestations, then carefully reread +the casual lines: "You are so wrong; it is true that I did know the +doctor before, but he was never my lover. I knew him only because he +treated dear Carlos, but as a man I hate and detest him. How can I tell +you again that you are wrong, that he is an abomination not only in my +eyes but also in the eyes of my entire beloved family?"</p> + +<p>Nearly three lachrymose pages of love frustrated followed these lines. +"And so before I close my letter, I must beg you to drop everything if +you love me and fly back to Havana, even if only for a day. Oh, my +beloved, if you would only come back to Havana for one day, I am sure +that I can resolve all the doubts that are in your mind, Mateo. In the +name of all that we have shared, of all that is dear and sacred to us, +please fly back to my arms, my love, my kisses—and then you will know!" +The letter was signed, "Maria."</p> + +<p>Hall folded the letter carefully and put it in his wallet. It told him +what he wanted to know about Ansaldo. <i>He treated dear Carlos—he is an +abomination in the eyes of my beloved family.</i> Santiago's style as a +writer of love letters might be a little on the turgid side, but he knew +how to make himself clear. And nothing could be clearer than his line on +Ansaldo. An abomination. A man who marched with the men who put that +fascist bullet through the throat of Uncle Carlos. A bastard.</p> + +<p>The dock was growing more crowded. Over the near horizon, a ship pointed +its high white face at San Hermano. A long throaty whistle came from its +front funnel. Then five short blasts, and in a moment the tugs which had +been getting up steam in the harbor were heading out toward the growing +ship.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Marques de Avillar</i>," someone at the bar said. A customs man at a +near-by table gulped the remainder of his coffee and bolted to the pier. +At the bar, a laughing longshoreman pushed a five-centavo coin into the +nickeled red juke box, pressed the "<i>Bésame</i>" button. Johnny Rodrigues +<i>y su</i> Whoopee Kids. Two guitars, a cornet, maracas, sticks and a +lugubrious baritone. "<i>Bésame, bésame mucho</i> ..." the raucous blaring of +a klaxon at the pier ... "<i>la última vez</i>" ... again the horn drowned +out the words.</p> + +<p>Hall looked up at the cabs, ignoring the Whoopee Kids' baritone. A +slender young man in a green jacket and cream-colored slacks was +standing near the foot of the gangplank. Pepe had taken off his white +hat. Hall kept his eyes glued on Pepe until the man in the green jacket +turned around, revealing himself as Dr. Marina.</p> + +<p>One of the white sedans of the Ministry of Health pulled up at the pier. +A doctor and two assistants, the three men wearing the light tan uniform +of their service, got out and started to talk to a customs man. He +pointed at the white ship being shoved toward the pier by the little +tugs.</p> + +<p>Hall drank in the tableau, his eyes following Marina's every move, his +ears deaf to the next record being played in the juke box.</p> + +<p>"<i>Otro café, señor?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, gracias.</i>"</p> + +<p>But the fresh pot of hot coffee remained untouched. Hall was still +watching Marina, but Marina did nothing except shift from foot to foot +while he watched the Spanish liner draw nearer the pier with every turn +of the heroic little engines in the two tugs. Hall thought of Jerry. He +had missed her again last night, but they had a date for dinner at +seven. Doctor had promised her a night off. The messages at the hotel: +José Fernandez had phoned, wanted Hall to call him back this morning. +O.K., Don José, as soon as I get a good look at the rats Marina is +awaiting. I want to hear more about the Red menace hanging over my head. +And Souza had an interesting tab on Androtten. The little Dutchman had +stayed out all night. Naughty, naughty, Wilhelm, gadding about with +<i>putas</i> the whole night through and God knows where you are sleeping it +off but I guess your little dog is watching to see that no one rolls you +for your wad. Or wasn't it a debauch that kept you out all night? +Anyway, I'll bet you made your rounds in a Renault you rented from the +Phoenix Garage.</p> + +<p>The <i>Marques de Avillar</i> was being eased into its dock. The cab drivers +were waving at the passengers lined up at the rail, and Marina was +hopping up and down, shouting and waving a big yellow handkerchief like +a banner. The coffee <i>por favor</i> has grown cold and <i>por favor</i> a pot of +hot <i>por favor</i> and that's the idea <i>muchas gracias</i> and you could have +docked the <i>Marques</i> in my last yawn. Hall drank a steaming cup of hot +coffee.</p> + +<p>The gangplank was being wheeled to the ship. There was a knot of ship's +officers on the lower deck. They shook hands with the customs men and +the medicos who trotted up the gangplank, led them inside to the main +salon. Men in blue uniforms with official papers under their arms. A +press photographer and a bald roly-poly reporter. They'll be out in a +minute, and damn it the morning sun is growing too bright for a pair of +tired old eyes, and dipping his napkin in the fresh cold water on the +table Hall shoved the cold compress against his heavy eyes.</p> + +<p>Two cups of coffee later, the first of the passengers from the <i>Marques +de Avillar</i> emerged from the salon and walked down the gangplank. +Priests—Hall counted twenty—followed by scrawny stewards with their +bags. A few of the priests were old, but most of them were young men who +carried themselves erect, their shoulders squared well back, their walk +the off-duty walk of the officer on leave from the front. Hall wondered +how many of the younger men in clerical collars were really priests and +how many of them were used to wearing other uniforms. He remembered the +day, less than two months earlier, when the C.T.E. liner <i>Cabo de +Hornos</i> had docked in Havana and one of General Benitez' men had grown +suspicious of two of the Spanish priests on board; a brief discussion of +theology had been followed by a thorough search of their luggage, and +the young travelers woke up the next morning to find themselves learning +theology in the concentration camp on the Isla de Pinas.</p> + +<p>Hall was humming "Onward, Christian Soldiers." He watched two young +priests get into Pepe's cab and be driven away. The priests, and later +four nuns, entered the cabs in pairs. Then, following some customs men, +one of the ship's officers came out of the salon with a man in a black +suit and a Panama hat. They carried thick portfolios under their arms, +and behind them followed a steward with two heavy hand trunks.</p> + +<p>There was a blur of green and yellow on the gangplank, and then Marina +was on the lower deck, exchanging wild embraces with the ship's officer +and the man in the Panama hat. The three men walked down the gangplank, +Marina happily bringing up the rear behind the officer. He darted in +front of his friends when they reached the pier and signaled one of the +cabs. The first cab in line rolled up to the curb and picked them up.</p> + +<p>The sun shone into Hall's face. He washed his eyes with cold water, had +another cup of coffee. Thick, the air is growing thick and heavy. Hell +with it. Olive oil and garlic, coffee, squids, mussels, saffron, +mackerel, heat. "<i>Bésame</i>" on the juke box again. Don't run off just +yet. Look at the watch. Start to get impatient. <i>Hombre de negocios</i> +waiting for a colleague to work out a deal. A ton of coffee, three box +cars of ore, a round ton of sugar. He's way overdue and you're getting +impatient, but you don't leave yet. You don't leave and show the little +dog wherever he or his partners are hiding that you had breakfast here +this morning just to keep an eye on the <i>Marques de Avillar</i>. No, señor, +you would not be as careless as the faggot. No, señor, oh no, señor, +only the air is getting thicker and somewhere in the kitchen someone is +looking at me and laughing I swear it I swear it only I can't help it +this is the only face I have.</p> + +<p>Soft laughter. Eyes looking in his direction. The now blazing sun. The +flags on the mast of the white ship; crimson and gold of Fernando e +Isabel, the triangular pennant of the C.T.E., and the mucking five +arrows of the Falange floating insolently in the breeze over the heart +of a democracy. Don't leave too soon. Look at your watch again and curse +the mucking <i>hombre de negocios</i> who's holding up your big deal. And +what was the name of the C.T.E. radio officer from the <i>Ciudad de +Sevilla</i> whom poor old Fielding had in his report? Jimenez, Eduardo +Jimenez, thank God, my memory for names is like a sponge and what would +you say if the ship's officer who got that <i>abrazo de amor</i> from the +faggot was C.T.E. Radio Officer Jimenez and damn the sun and damn the +olive oil on the hot stove chunks of garlic and squid floating in the +hot oil and stinking up the thick murky air and it's cooler with the +collar open.</p> + +<p>Eyes looking at him from the kitchen. Soft laughter. Some joke. Hall is +cockeyed on <i>café con leche</i> and what's that it's the cup you lug and +what's that it's the coffee spilling all over your pants and if those +empty-faced bastards in the kitchen don't stop laughing I'll get right +up from the floor and put a right cross through their lousy guts. That's +just the ticket. Clip them with the old right, like the time in San +Sebastian when the gonzo with the feather in his hat made the mistake of +getting within range. Watch the old right, keed, watch the old K.O. +sockeroo. Watch it, watch it, don't forget to duck. <span class="smcap">WATCH IT!</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The driver of the rickety four-wheeled bus was thumping time with fat +brown fingers on the rim of the heavy wheel. He didn't sing, just sat in +his bucket seat with the faded flowered cretonne slip cover (bet you a +good dinner his wife sewed it for him when he got the job) and thumped +time. The kid with the guitar in the front seat was doing the singing. +"Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." He was a nice kid and drunk as a loon, but sweet +and happy drunk. Nothing ugly about the kid. "Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco."</p> + +<p>"Why is he singing?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>Behind him, someone in the rear seat answered, "He's happy. His favorite +baseball team won the San Hermano tournament."</p> + +<p>Hall turned with a start, faced an impassive-looking farmer in blue +jeans.</p> + +<p>"You were fast asleep, señor," the farmer said.</p> + +<p>"Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." A bad dream. Go back to sleep. Or better yet, +wake up and put the light on. But the light was on. The dim yellow +lights inside the bus. "Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." Scots wha hae wi' Wallace +fled. Scots wha ... God, no! A new song. No more Jalisco. The farmer +came into the town his cheeses ripe his mangoes brown he spied a maiden +by her stall she ... God, no!</p> + +<p>"Ay, Muchachita, Muchachita." The kid was still in the groove. +Four-string chord, six-string chord. <i>Un beso, un beso! Reflecciones de +otros tiempos.</i> More nice chords. The farmer remembers other times, +other maidens who pursed their lips and gave him <i>un beso</i> when he +begged. What am I to the farmer and what is he to Hecuba?</p> + +<p>"For a <i>borracho</i> he sings well."</p> + +<p>"Yes, with a skinful he is a virtuoso." The sound of his own words +startled Hall. He turned around to the man who had spoken to him. The +farmer smiled.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, señor," the farmer smiled, "but tonight you are a little of +the virtuoso yourself, no?"</p> + +<p>"No." God, no!</p> + +<p>"I apologize, señor. You are not well?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am well." But where in hell am I? <i>Ay, muchachita, muchachita.</i> +Cigars in the coat pocket. Broken, all of them. Smashed to shreds. I +fell on them. When I fell they were smashed. Cigarettes in the side +pocket. Black tobacco, thicker than the cigarettes back home, +brown-paper package. <i>Bock, La Habana.</i></p> + +<p>"Have you a match?" That's a good one. Felipe's been waiting three years +for J. Burton Skidmore to say it. "<i>Tiene usted un fó'foro?</i>" Very +welcome. Yes, they are Cuban. No, I am not Cuban myself. I dropped the +<i>s</i> in <i>fósforo</i>? I have recently spent some time in Cuba. Yes, Batista +is a fine man. Where are you going? Is this your village?</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, friend." This from outside, the farmer standing on the dirt +road, Hall's gift cigarette glowing in his mouth. A tiny village. +Houses, store, the whitewashed village school, a cast-iron statue of San +Martin and Bolivar shaking hands, an open-front café, the small church.</p> + +<p>"Hello, friend." The kid with the guitar waved at Hall. "When did you +get on the bus?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Good. Neither do I. What's your favorite song?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No Pasarán.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I know it," the kid said. "It is a good song." His fingers flew over +the strings, found the right chords. Hall joined him in the words of the +Spanish Republic's song of resistance.</p> + +<p>Night, deep-blue night, the yellow mazdas of the farmers' village way +behind them now, and the <i>gua-gua</i> rolling down the highway between +plowed fields and fields of sugar and nothing in sight but the broad +fields.</p> + +<p>"Hey, driver!" That was me. I can talk now. I can stand, too. If I grip +the tops of the seats I can walk to the front without taking a pratt +fall. "Driver, <i>gua-guero</i> ..."</p> + +<p>"Jump, it's not high, señor ..."</p> + +<p>Feet on the ground once more. Black blue soft chill night air. There +goes the <i>gua-gua</i>. Red tail light bouncing around the bend in the road. +No ship. No sun. No garlic broiling in olive oil. Nothing. Get off the +road. Get up. Off the road. Get to the fence. Get up, get up, here comes +the blackout again, here it comes, watch it, men, this is it.</p> + +<p>He remembered the kid with the guitar, the rich voice of the driver. +<i>Jump, it's not high.</i> It was still night. He was lying in a field, +about fifteen yards from the highway. The taste of black earth at his +lips had awakened him.</p> + +<p>He turned his mouth away from the plowed earth. There was no sense in +trying to get up. He knew that much. All in. He was all in. Every bone, +every muscle ached. He closed his eyes, sank into a deep dreamless +sleep.</p> + +<p>Thirst wakened him. It was a thirst that started in his throat, spread +to his dry cottony mouth, sank deep into his drying insides. They were +drying out, drying out fast. He had to have water, or they would dry up +completely, and then he would be dead.</p> + +<p>I am now an animal, he thought. I must have animal cunning. I must sense +water and then I must get to it. Where things grow there must be water. +A stream. A well.</p> + +<p>He got to his knees, started to crawl deeper into the plowed field, +putting another few yards between himself and the road. He crawled into +a clump of weeds. The dew on their leaves brushed against his face. +"It's water," he said, and he licked the dew from the weeds. The thirst +remained.</p> + +<p>Fire. Build a fire and attract a watchman, a farmer, another bus rolling +along the deserted road. No, don't build a fire. Cane burns like oil. +Remember what poor old Fielding said? No fire. You'll be roasted alive. +Find water. It's a sugar field. Must be an irrigation ditch around. Find +the ditch.</p> + +<p>More ground gained by crawling. Then the sleep of exhaustion, no dreams +only sleep until the thirst becomes stronger than the exhaustion and +then more crawling until ... God! there is a ditch. Hear it, smell it. +Must be water, couldn't be this much mulepiss. Now drink your fill and +bathe your face and get your head away from the top of the ditch before +you fall asleep again and drown in two inches of it. It has a name. It's +water.</p> + +<p>This time Hall rolled over on his back when he felt that sleep was +overtaking him.</p> + +<p>There were a million bugs on the mud walls of the ditch. They crawled on +Hall's hands, on his face, and one column of intrepid bugs slithered +into his mouth and got caught in his throat and he was sick. He moved +away from the mess, tried to sit up. He could see a mound of rocks near +the road. With all his remaining strength, he started to crawl toward +the mound.</p> + +<p>It took him two hours to negotiate the twenty yards between the ditch +and the rocks. He lost count of the number of times he collapsed to his +face and fell asleep on the journey. All he knew was that when he woke +up, he had to get to the rocks. He could sit on the rocks and wait for a +truck or a bus to pass by. Then he could hail the driver.</p> + +<p>But when he reached the fence, he saw that the mound was on the other +side of the road. Fall asleep in the middle of the road and the next +truck that rolls along crushes you like a roach. <i>Putas y maricones! +Maricones y putas!</i> Blood will run in the streets of the city when I get +up, the brown blood, the black blood, the blue blood. <i>Arriba España</i> in +a pig's eye. You mean <i>Deutschland Erwache</i>, señor, and come a little +closer, you with the yoke and the five arrows on your cap, come a little +closer and get your filthy head bashed in. God, when I get up I'll kill +them I'll kill them if these chills ever go away I'll kill them I'll +kill all the baby killers when these chills go away oh God look at the +baby killers marching through Burgos with the holy men shaking holy +water on their lousy heads. Whores and faggots! Faggots and whores! I'm +getting up!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He was asleep when the army lorry roared by and then stopped down the +road, brakes screeching, rubber biting into macadam.</p> + +<p>The sergeant's brandy did no good. Neither did the fresh water they +poured on his face, the brandy they rubbed into his wrists. All this +they had to tell him later.</p> + +<p>He remembered nothing about the lorry. The bus he remembered; the +driver, the flowered-cretonne slip cover on the driver's seat, the +farmer, joining the kid in <i>No Pasarán</i>. He remembered jumping from the +bus, crawling for water, giving up the ghost when the bugs crawled into +his throat. And the rocks. There was that mound of rocks.</p> + +<p>Now there was a narrow bed in a small room. A man's room, obviously a +man's room. Desk, lounging chair, worn grass rug. For some reason +Fernando Souza was sitting in the lounging chair. Another man was +standing near the bed, looking down at Hall, his fingers pressed to +Hall's pulse.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Souza?" Hall asked, and the night clerk of the Bolivar +left the chair and joined the doctor.</p> + +<p>"You will be well now," Souza said.</p> + +<p>"The pulse is coming back," the doctor said, to Souza. He let go of +Hall's wrist. When he went to the desk, Hall could see the military +trousers beneath his white coat.</p> + +<p>"Can you talk, Don Mateo?" Souza asked.</p> + +<p>"I think so. Where am I? What day is it?"</p> + +<p>The doctor went to the door. He held a whispered conversation with a +soldier who was waiting on the other side of the door. Then he took +Souza's chair. "Such cursing," he laughed. "When they brought you in, +Señor Hall, you had no pulse, you had the temperature of cold beer, and +your heart had just about three beats left. You were biologically more +dead than alive. But I swear, before I gave you the first ampule of +adrenalin, the curses were pouring out of your lips like the waves of +the ocean. How do you feel now?"</p> + +<p>"Very tired."</p> + +<p>"Are you hungry?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You'll be able to eat soon. I've been feeding you through a needle for +seven hours. How would you like a steak?"</p> + +<p>"What time is it?"</p> + +<p>"Five o'clock," Souza said. "I've been here with you all afternoon, Don +Mateo."</p> + +<p>"What's this 'Don' business?"</p> + +<p>Souza smiled. "I am glad to see that you are making jokes, <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"Where in hell are we?"</p> + +<p>Souza and the doctor took turns in telling the story. The soldiers had +picked him up in the road some ninety miles from San Hermano. More dead +than alive, they put him in the lorry and rushed him to their garrison. +There, while the commandant examined his papers, the doctor, Captain +Dorado, moved him into the commandant's room and gave him his first shot +of adrenalin.</p> + +<p>"Was it a heart attack?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"No," the doctor said. "You were drugged."</p> + +<p>Hall listened to the doctor's technical description of the drug which +had felled him. He had heard of it before. It worked like an overdose of +insulin. Burned up the sugar, then the energy in the body, and then blew +the fuses. Something like that, anyway. Another hour without adrenalin +and it would have been curtains. That second pot of coffee and the soft +laughter in the kitchen. Damn their eyes, that's where it happened. Then +eight hours of lying in the commandant's bed, cursing, sleeping, getting +needles of adrenalin, needles of energy, needles of the stuff that makes +pulses beat to the right measure.</p> + +<p>"Are we tiring you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Captain. I'd like something to eat, though."</p> + +<p>"I ordered some hot broth."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I'm glad you're here, Fernando."</p> + +<p>"The commandant called me," Souza said. "He found your address through +Pan American Airways."</p> + +<p>"Oh." The letter. It had gone to Pan Am for forwarding. Then it was +still safe.</p> + +<p>"I will return in a few minutes," the doctor said. "I want to see about +your broth."</p> + +<p>Souza waited until the doctor was out of the room before he spoke. +"Providence was with you," he said. "The commandant here is a Tabio man. +He called me at once to find out who you were. Another man might have +called your Embassy first."</p> + +<p>"Have they called the Embassy yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"What happened to the men the <i>maricón</i> met at the pier?"</p> + +<p>"We have them under sharp eyes. They went first to Jorge Davila's home. +Then they went to the country. They are in Bocas del Sur at the estate +of Gamburdo's brother, the cattle raiser. The <i>maricón</i> left them there. +He is now in San Hermano with Ansaldo. They were to be with Don Anibal +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"And the girl?"</p> + +<p>"With Ansaldo."</p> + +<p>"When are you going back to the Bolivar?"</p> + +<p>"In an hour."</p> + +<p>"Tell her that I telephoned to say that I would be out of the city +tonight. I was to see her for dinner. What about the priests from the +boat? Are they all really priests?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? Perhaps I shall know more when I return to the city."</p> + +<p>"How long will I be on my back?" Hall asked. "Did the doctor say?"</p> + +<p>"Not long. You have recovered from the drug, he says. Now you need food +and another day's rest."</p> + +<p>The doctor returned followed by a soldier who carried a small tray. "Hot +soup," he said. "And after the soup, some rich beef stew. But first, +some brandy. Three glasses, corporal. We'll drink to the memory of +Lazarus." He helped Hall sit up in bed, propped some pillows behind his +back. Only when he sat up did Hall notice that a large signed photograph +of Anibal Tabio hung over the commandant's desk.</p> + +<p>"Let's rather drink to the health of Anibal Tabio," Hall proposed.</p> + +<p>Souza and the doctor watched with approval as Hall ate the soup and the +stew, and then sipped maté through a silver straw. "He's going to be +well in a matter of hours," the doctor said. "Well enough to start +cursing again. It is a shame that I do not know English. But your +Spanish curses were enough for me."</p> + +<p>"What was I cursing?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"What didn't you curse, señor? Franco, <i>putas, maricones</i>, Hitler, +Gamburdo, the Cross and Sword ..."</p> + +<p>"God! Who heard me?"</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled. "Be tranquil," he said. "Just the commandant and +myself, and one of the soldiers. But you don't have to worry about the +soldier. He is the son of a miner in the north."</p> + +<p>"The soldier," Souza said, "is reliable. I have already seen him."</p> + +<p>"You are among friends," the doctor said. "Souza has told us about you."</p> + +<p>"I owe my life to you," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"From what I have learned," the doctor laughed, "you are not an easy man +to kill."</p> + +<p>"When can I get out of bed?"</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow. That is just as well, señor. The garrison tailor is cleaning +your suit now. Would you like more maté?"</p> + +<p>"Could I have another brandy?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. But then you must sleep."</p> + +<p>"I'm tired of sleeping."</p> + +<p>"I am prepared for that." The doctor called for the corporal, ordered +him to prepare a hypodermic syringe. "You must get some sleep, señor," +he said.</p> + +<p>In the morning, the doctor pronounced Hall well enough to leave the +commandant's bed. Hall's clothes, the suit cleaned and freshly pressed, +the shirt washed and ironed, the shoes polished to a glow, were laid out +on a chair near the bed. "We do things thoroughly in the army," the +doctor said.</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"The commandant would like to join you for breakfast."</p> + +<p>"In the officers' mess?"</p> + +<p>"No. Here."</p> + +<p>"Please tell him that I would be honored."</p> + +<p>"Good. Can you dress yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, thanks to you, Captain. I feel as if I'd had a week's +rest on some quiet beach."</p> + +<p>"I'll get the commandant, then. The corporal will show you the way to +the washroom. I've laid out my razor and shaving things for you."</p> + +<p>It was good to stand on steadied legs again, good to walk erect like a +man. The razor had a nice edge. It sliced through the stems of the +two-day beard without snagging. For some reason, the efficiency of the +razor delighted Hall beyond measure. He studied the results of the shave +in the wall mirror, then looked for signs of his illness. Two days were +lost, he thought, two days of which he could account for but a few +hours. The doctor could fill in most of the second day. The first night +was something Hall himself could remember. It was like a bad dream one +longs to forget, but he could remember the bus, the field, the ditch, +the rock pile. He could remember staggering, crawling, getting sick, +passing out and crawling and passing out again. But there were at least +ten hours that remained a total blank; that portion of the day between +the time he blacked out in the café near the Spanish line's pier and the +moment he became aware of the kid in the bus.</p> + +<p>An enlisted man was cleaning up the commandant's room when Hall +returned. "The major will be here in five minutes," he told Hall. "And +in the meanwhile, he sent you these." He handed Hall a flat tin of +American cigarettes.</p> + +<p>Hall offered one of the cigarettes to the soldier. He sat down in the +leather chair near the desk, looked at the inscription on Tabio's +photograph. "To my dear Diego, my comrade in prison and in +freedom—Anibal."</p> + +<p>"The commandant is a close friend of Don Anibal's," the soldier said. "I +think I hear him coming now." The soldier stepped out of the room.</p> + +<p>A moment later someone rapped gently on the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," Hall shouted.</p> + +<p>The door opened. In the doorway, a man in uniform, his hat carried +correctly under his left arm, paused, made a soft salute. "Major Diego +Segador," he said. "We are honored to have you as our guest." He shook +hands with Hall, sat down in the desk chair facing the portrait of +Tabio.</p> + +<p>"I am grateful to you for—everything," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"It was nothing," Segador said. "After Souza spoke to me about you, I +was sorry we could not do more."</p> + +<p>"What more could you have done?"</p> + +<p>The major's lips parted over his long teeth in a mirthless smile. "We +could have killed the <i>cabrón</i> who drugged you, <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"You know who did it?"</p> + +<p>"It could have been anyone in that café. What's the matter with Delgado? +Didn't he know it is owned by a dirty Falangist?" Color rose to the +major's dark cheeks. He was a man of Hall's own years, shorter, but with +a pair of powerful hands capable of hiding the hands of a man twice his +size. The hands were gripping the arms of his chair now, the knuckles +white as the major fought to control his rage. Hall knew the feeling, +sensed the fires that burned in the major's head. He called me +<i>compañero</i> a moment ago, he thought, he knows what I'm after.</p> + +<p>"Pepe is all right," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"He should have more brains." The major opened the locked middle drawer +of his desk, pulled out a sealed brown envelope. "Your papers," he said. +"Please examine them and see if everything is present."</p> + +<p>Hall tore open the envelope, shook the contents to the desk. Passport, +wallet, not more than fifty pesos missing, a book of travelers' checks, +some sheets of blank paper, a small leather address book, wrist watch, +the Bock cigarettes. Except for the fifty pesos, everything else which +belonged in the wallet was there, money, pictures, cards, the letter +from Havana.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is missing," Hall said. He took the letter from its envelope +and counted the pages.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I had to read your love letter," Segador said. "But it was +necessary."</p> + +<p>"I know," Hall said. "But it is not a love letter."</p> + +<p>The massive face of the major reflected his surprise. "Not a love +letter?" he asked. "Ah, here's the coffee. Come in, corporal. Set the +trays down on the desk."</p> + +<p>Hall waited until the corporal left. "It is not a love letter," he +repeated. "I would like very much to interpret it for you. I think it +might explain why I was drugged."</p> + +<p>"Before you start," the major said, "there are two things that you +should know. The first is that Souza has given me a fairly good idea of +why you came to our country. The second is that for your own sake, and +for ours, I had to notify your Embassy that we had picked you up drunk +in a village café last night."</p> + +<p>"Drunk?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, <i>compañero</i>. I mean no disrespect, but your Embassy is not +very much in sympathy with many things a man like yourself is willing to +die defending. Under the circumstances, you can spare yourself some +unnecessary trouble if you say merely that you were drunk. If you stick +to this story, you can help yourself and, to be very frank, you can help +Don Anibal."</p> + +<p>"You are his friend, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>The major got to his feet. "His friend?" He undid his tie, then took his +shirt off. His torso was a mass of old and, for the main part, +improperly sewn scars. Mementoes of bullets, steel whips, knives. "My +republicanism is more than skin deep, my friend."</p> + +<p>"Then I can tell you everything." Hall dipped into the tin of American +cigarettes. "It started in San Juan," he began, "or rather it really +started in Geneva, when I met Don Anibal for the first time. But it was +in San Juan that I read that Dr. Ansaldo was on his way to San Hermano +to treat Don Anibal. And if I may jump to the end of my story first, +this love letter seems to confirm what I suspected about Ansaldo. Do you +see what it says here about the doctor who treated Carlos?"</p> + +<p>For an hour, Hall told Segador of what he had learned and experienced +since arriving in the country. The major interrupted with questions +frequently, made notes in a small black notebook. "Please," he said, +when Hall finished his account, "I am going to repeat the important +parts of the story to you. Correct me if I am wrong or if I leave +anything out."</p> + +<p>He recited the story back to Hall, then consulted his watch. "The Press +Secretary of your Embassy is due to call for you in a few minutes," he +said. "Please remember your story. You were drunk."</p> + +<p>"Was I with a <i>puta</i>?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>The major grinned. "No," he said, "that I did not think necessary. +Although if it were, I assure you I would tell your Embassy that you +were with the mangiest <i>puta</i> in six provinces."</p> + +<p>"What do we do now?"</p> + +<p>"It is hard to say. In the meanwhile, I think there is something you +need." He took a large automatic out of his desk, slipped a clip of +bullets into its grip, and handed the gun and a small box of cartridges +to Hall. "If we could only prove to Don Anibal before it is too late +that Ansaldo ..."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"We must find a way. In the meanwhile, stay alive for the next few days. +I have friends. They will watch for your safety. Souza, others. They +will bring you my messages. And be careful in cafés."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_nine" id="Chapter_nine"></a><i>Chapter nine</i></h2> + + +<p>The American Embassy sent a well-dressed young attaché to call for Hall +in the morning. He arrived in a low-slung yellow sedan, introduced +himself as Orville Smith, snubbed everyone in sight, and relaxed only +when he and Hall were well out of sight of the camp. "They said that you +sure hung one on," he said pleasantly and, Hall realized, with even a +touch of admiration.</p> + +<p>"Must have been something I ate," Hall answered.</p> + +<p>"Glad you turned up intact, old man. Might have led to some amusing +complications. If the major had called five minutes later, this would +have appeared on the front page of <i>El Imparcial</i> this morning."</p> + +<p>He gave Hall a galley proof of a news story. <i>Missing American Writer +Believed Victim of Communists.</i> Missing since yesterday ... last seen +leaving hotel ... On Wednesday, at American Embassy party, Hall had +discussed Red threats to his safety, told publisher of <i>Imparcial</i> that +giant Red assassin had followed him day before ... Embassy officials +described Hall as author of book on experiences on <i>H.M.S. Revenger</i> ... +The missing American failed to phone or keep appointment made with +publisher of <i>Imparcial</i> in connection with Soviet threats ... Feared +abducted and killed.</p> + +<p>"What do you make of it?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Politics. They take their politics seriously down here. Was it true +that you were followed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But not by the Reds. By the fascists."</p> + +<p>"Are there any fascists down here?" This in a tone of detached +amusement.</p> + +<p>"A few. How well do you know Fernandez?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well. He's one of the few gentlemen in San Hermano. Comes from an +old Spanish aristocratic family. Did you really have an appointment with +him?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't definite. He told me he had heard of some Red plot to bump me +off. I just kidded him along."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fernandez is really very well informed," Smith said. "He has a +crack staff of reporters, and the information that they pick up +shouldn't be ignored."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Hall said. "I hear he's good. Matter of fact, I heard +<i>Imparcial</i> is getting the Cabot Prize this year."</p> + +<p>It was like a shaft driven into Smith's armor. "No!" he exclaimed. "Who +told you?"</p> + +<p>"Some <i>puta</i>," Hall said, dryly. "In bed." He watched the blood rushing +to Orville Smith's head. "You'd be surprised at what a gal who sleeps +around can pick up."</p> + +<p>"She was pulling your leg, Hall."</p> + +<p>Hall grinned. "Please, Mr. Smith," he said. "Gentlemen don't discuss +such things." Smith grew redder.</p> + +<p>"Not to change the subject," Hall said, "but what's cooking in town? In +politics, for example. Doesn't the Congress open today?"</p> + +<p>"Not really. They have the ceremonial opening this afternoon. According +to tradition, the President speaks to the entire Congress. Then they +settle down to a week of reviewing last year's business. The first +working session really starts in about ten days."</p> + +<p>"And today I guess Gamburdo is speaking instead of Tabio."</p> + +<p>"Oh, beyond a doubt. Tabio is really on his last legs, old man. I +suppose I should feel sorry about the old coot, but then you learn +things in my game."</p> + +<p>"About Tabio?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. We had information that in his address to the Congress, Tabio +was planning to call for the nationalization of all the mines in the +country."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," Smith said, "because he was being forced into it, I guess. I've +met Tabio and he's not as bad as his enemies make him out to be. But +what are you going to do when you are elected by a Popular Front +majority? The Communist Senators and Deputies are all from the mining +provinces up north. They've been hollering for the nationalization of +the mines for twenty years. Now they're strong enough to put the squeeze +on Tabio."</p> + +<p>"But isn't Gamburdo in the Popular Front?"</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo is different," Smith said. "He has different ideas, and he +can't be pressured by the bolos."</p> + +<p>"I'm doing a story on Gamburdo for a magazine back in the States. You +get around. Tell me more about Gamburdo. I've got him down as the coming +man on the continent. Am I half cocked, or is he really hot?"</p> + +<p>Orville Smith discussed Gamburdo, Tabio, the political scene. He talked +about the politicos, about their ideas, about the gossip which followed +them in their careers. Carefully prodded by Hall, he spoke fluently for +nearly two hours. It was a very revealing monologue. It told Hall how +Orville Smith had spent his three years in San Hermano. Week-end parties +at the estates of wealthy Spanish planters. Dinners, cocktails, high +masses, weddings, fishing trips with the Vardienos and the Fernandezes +and the Gamburdos. Info straight from the horse's mouth.</p> + +<p>Tabio the tool and or agent of bolshevism. The better element. How +social legislation would push taxes up and cut down returns on American +investments. Vardieno gives lovely parties on his island. No, not many +lately. No oil for the boats, hard enough to get it for his narrow-gauge +Diesel locomotives. Fine lad, young Quinones; made the golf team at +Princeton. The Vardieno girl in the Press Bureau? That would be the one +who went to finishing school in the States. She just started in at the +Bureau for some experience. Cross and Sword? Oh, I know the pinkos back +home would call it fascist. It's not, really. Conservative, for free +enterprise and private ownership. All the better-element folks belong or +support it. Do I know any labor leaders? No, never met one. Did I ever +spend a week-end in a small village hotel? No, thank you, the roaches +are bigger than sparrows in the sticks.</p> + +<p>Hall thought about the art of diplomacy. You take a kid from the FFV's +and at an early age you wrap him in cellophane and send him off to some +nice, prophylactic boarding school, well-heeled white Gentiles only, +thank you, High Episcopalians preferred, and only nice clean thoughts, +none of them less than a century old, are gently swished against the +cellophane until some of them seep through by osmosis. He meets only the +sons of the better element and outside of an adolescent clap he picks up +on one wild week-end with some of the boys in New York he has no real +problem until he's eased out of prep and then he has an idea he wants to +go to Harvard but the family prevails and he does time at Princeton, +nearly makes varsity football but a high tackle in a practice scrimmage +changes his mind, and then he is ready for his place on the board of the +mill but someone—a nice girl of fine breeding, no doubt—puts another +idea in his head. So he goes to Georgetown, fills out a lot of nasty +forms, and then, <i>voilá!</i>, the young monsieur arrives in Paris as Third +Secretary and dreamily sends that first letter home to the folks: Hello +Folks, here I am in Gay Paree learning how to be an Ambassador.</p> + +<p>And then in Paris, Hall thought, listening to Orville Smith, your young +Third Secretary naturally gravitates to his French equivalents, the +young bluebloods who were reared in French cellophane and got the same +ideas, only in French, in their own versions of Princeton and Groton. +The better element meets the better element, and he makes factual, +intelligent reports. The Popular Front falling into hands of the bolos. +This he learns at a week-end party on Flandin's yacht. The Croix de Feu +and the Cagoulards are fine, conservative forces. Only the pinkos call +them fascists, but Bertrand de Juvenal, the fledgling ambassador's pal, +knows otherwise. Sit-down strikes, forty-hour week, vacations with +pay—he puts them all down in his reports; communist, of course. Got the +lowdown on the beach at Cannes just the other day. Daladier is the man +to watch. Yes, he is in the Popular Front. But Daladier's different. +He's like Monsieur Laval, the French Calvin Coolidge. Fine force for +sensible government. There will be no war, Munich has settled that. Got +the lowdown from Flandin himself. Germany will be defeated. Spent a most +fascinating week-end with General Weygand. Marechal Pétain is man of the +hour. Marechal Pétain will make France another Verdun. Vichy wants to be +friends with Washington. The Marechal indignantly denies, in private, +that that was a Nazi salute you saw in the newsreels, sir, he says he +was just waving at the cameramen. But Bertrand de Juvenal does not deny, +and Laval does not deny, and Daladier weeps in his collapsed house of +cards. And then comes the transfer to San Hermano at a better rating.</p> + +<p>Smith pointed to the suburbs of San Hermano ahead of them. "We made good +time," he said. "We'll be in the Embassy in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"Good going. You can drop me at the Bolivar, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, old man. But say, why don't you drop by for a spot of lunch +with the old man and the boys at the Embassy? We'd love to have you with +us and, besides, the old man will probably want to see for himself that +you're in one piece."</p> + +<p>Hall looked at his watch. "What time do you have lunch?"</p> + +<p>"About one."</p> + +<p>"Good. I'd like to join you. But I'll still have time to stop off at the +Bolivar to change and pick up my mail. I'm expecting a letter from my +sweetheart."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Pepe was waiting in his cab in front of the Bolivar. He was contrite and +subdued. "I nearly killed you with my stupidity, Mateo," he said. "I +should have known that café was owned by Falangistas."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing, Pepe. I had it coming to me. I'm all over it now, anyway. +What's new?"</p> + +<p>"I have the complete list of where the passengers from the <i>Marques de +Avillar</i> are staying. Their names, too. Except the names of the two men +who are at the Gamburdo ranch. But they are still there."</p> + +<p>"Did you recognize any of the names?"</p> + +<p>"My friends are examining the lists now. I'll have them back for you in +the evening."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Duarte?"</p> + +<p>"I told him about you. He wants you to call him at the Mexican Embassy."</p> + +<p>"I will, later. I have to go to my room for a minute, and then I want +you to take me to the American Embassy. I'm having lunch there." He +entered the hotel and asked for his mail at the desk. There was a +message from Jerry, a short gossipy note from his publisher, and another +love letter from Havana.</p> + +<p>The note from Jerry was very short. "I missed you, you dog," it said. +"Phone me when you return to town. Jerry."</p> + +<p>The letter from Havana, mailed the day after the first letter, was +almost a duplicate of the first. Again it protested its love, but this +time it said, "How many times must I tell you that the man you think is +your rival is unworthy of all human decencies? Far from being a rival in +my eyes, I look upon him as a creature worse than an assassin. You must +believe me; I detest the man." Hall put the letter in his wallet.</p> + +<p>He examined his room carefully. It had not been searched, the +stethoscope was still in its hiding place, his clothes were just as he +had left them. Everything was as it had been. Hall took out his portable +typewriter, copied the <i>El Imparcial</i> story which had been killed, and +sealed the copy in an envelope. He went downstairs, got into the cab, +and slipped the envelope into Pepe's pocket.</p> + +<p>"Give the envelope to Dr. Gonzales," he said. "And tell him to get the +information to Major Segador right away."</p> + +<p>"I'll drive right out to the doctor as soon as I leave you. Shall I wait +for you outside of the American Embassy after I see the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better."</p> + +<p>Ambassador Skidmore seemed pleased to see Hall. "You gave us quite a +scare, young fellow," he said, his ruddy face beaming, white hair +bobbing as Skidmore shook his head from side to side in mock anxiety. +"Ah, you newspaper boys," he laughed. "Always going off on a tear when +you are least expected to! And here poor Joe Fernandez was so sure that +the Reds had made hamburger out of you, Hall."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I spoiled a good story," Hall said. "I'd better call +Fernandez on the phone before he sends out another alarm."</p> + +<p>"No need to, my boy," the Ambassador said. "Joe Fernandez is joining us +at lunch."</p> + +<p>Fernandez showed up with a former Senator, a dignified old dandy named +Rios, who sported a silver-headed cane, a waxed, dyed mustache, and a +Cross and Sword emblem in his lapel. They shared the table in the +Ambassador's small private dining room with Hall, Orville Smith and the +Ambassador.</p> + +<p>The publisher fawned over Hall like a long-lost brother. "You are safe," +he exclaimed. "Thanks be to the Virgin Mother! What happened? Was it +very bad?"</p> + +<p>"I got drunk," Hall said. "That's all that happened."</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous, Señor Hall! You are a man who can take his drink. You were +drugged. Mark my words, señor, you were drugged. You don't know these +Reds."</p> + +<p>Orville Smith winked broadly at Hall. "The main thing is," he said to +Fernandez, "that Hall is safe now. I'm sure he appreciates your concern, +Don José." In deference to the Ambassador's three-word Spanish +vocabulary, Smith and the others spoke English. Rios, who spoke only +Spanish, sat between Skidmore and Smith, who acted as their interpreter.</p> + +<p>"What province did you represent in the Senate?" Hall asked the former +Senator.</p> + +<p>"San Martin, in the north."</p> + +<p>"Don Joaquin is a great statesman," Fernandez interrupted. "But when El +Tovarich prepared his gangsters for the elections two years ago, he +armed the Red miners and they held their guns in the ribs of Don +Joaquin's majority."</p> + +<p>Hall listened to Smith translate this account of Rios' defeat at the +polls before he spoke. "And do you plan to run again, Señor Rios?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Fernandez answered for the dandy. "He will run again," he shouted, "and +he will be elected. Fire can fight fire. Guns can fight guns."</p> + +<p>"I have <i>pantalones</i>," Rios said. "I am a man of honor."</p> + +<p>"Don Joaquin's constituents demand that he runs again," Fernandez said. +He turned to the Ambassador, became his own translator. The ex-Senator +nodded happily at every word Fernandez addressed to the Ambassador, as +if by nodding he could bolster the words whose meaning he had to guess.</p> + +<p>"How do you think things will go in Congress today?" Hall asked +Fernandez.</p> + +<p>"The same as every year, Señor Hall. Ceremonials, the speech, and +then—<i>quién sabe</i>?"</p> + +<p>Rumors rose from the table. Everyone had a choice rumor to air. Rios had +it on good authority that Tabio's illness was merely a pretext; the +President was afraid to face the Congress lest they force him to justify +his wild socialistic measures which had put the national budget in such +dire peril. Orville Smith informed the men at the table that Tabio's +illness had taken a more serious turn. "In fact, I understand that Dr. +Ansaldo has informed the government that he will refuse to operate on +Tabio without the written permission of the Cabinet." Fernandez spoke of +Ansaldo's skill as a surgeon.</p> + +<p>"How about Gamburdo's speech, Joe?" the Ambassador said. "You promised +to bring me an advance copy."</p> + +<p>"I told my secretary to bring it to you as soon as it arrived," +Fernandez answered. "It is very late in arriving today."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea of what he is going to say, Joe?"</p> + +<p>"He is a very sound man," Fernandez said. "I am sure that the speech +will be satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"It won't call for the nationalization of the mines, at any rate," Smith +added.</p> + +<p>He made the mistake of translating his remark for Joaquin Rios. He might +just as well have dropped a match into a keg of gunpowder. The wax +mustaches under the purpling nose of ex-Senator Rios began quivering +even before he unleashed an avalanche of ringing livid paragraphs on the +subject. His eyes blind to the cold stares of José Fernandez, he +unlimbered his heaviest verbal artillery, pounded the table until the +glasses rattled, pointed accusing fingers at every corner of the room, +and otherwise managed rather effectively to end the luncheon. Fernandez +fairly had to drag him out of the Embassy to cool him down.</p> + +<p>"Fine fellows," Skidmore said to Hall when they were gone. "Best of the +lot down here."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Hall said. "I've known all about Fernandez for years."</p> + +<p>"He's a great guy, Hall. Publishes one of the best newspapers on the +continent. As a matter of cold fact, old man, I wouldn't be at all +surprised if he won the—well, he might be in for a rather high honor."</p> + +<p>"I know. The Cabot Prize."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?"</p> + +<p>Hall looked at Smith, who was growing uncomfortable. "I can't remember," +he said. "But it's hard to keep such a secret in San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be damned," the Ambassador laughed. "It was nice to see you +again, old man. Drop in any time when you have a problem."</p> + +<p>"Problems in San Hermano? Things seem to be pretty much under control, +I'd say."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Ambassador admitted. "Things are pretty quiet."</p> + +<p>"Will it be as quiet when Tabio dies? I heard talk that the Gamburdo +crowd is pretty close to the fascists."</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo?" Skidmore grew both amused and indignant. "What kind of +communistic nonsense have you been hearing? I know Eduardo Gamburdo +intimately. I've entertained him at the Embassy, and I've week-ended at +his estate. He's a fine conservative influence on this government and, +damn it all, young man, Gamburdo is a thorough gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Hall said. "Thorough." For a few seconds, during the luncheon, +he had toyed with the idea of telling the Ambassador all that he knew +about Gamburdo and Ansaldo and the role of the Falange. Now he cursed +himself for a fool. Skidmore, he saw, was Orville Smith at sixty, but +with the power to make trouble for any visiting American who rubbed +against his deep-set prejudices. "Well, thanks for everything," he said. +"I guess you're pretty busy today."</p> + +<p>Hall rushed out of the Embassy, his face twitching crazily as he charged +down the marble walk to the curb. He had broken into a heavy sweat which +drenched him from head to toe. "Get me out of here," he roared at Pepe. +"Get going before I kill someone."</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Pepe asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Where are we going?"</p> + +<p>"Nowhere. What's the matter with your face?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing." He put his hand against his right cheek. "Nothing. Did you +see Gonzales?"</p> + +<p>"I gave him the letter. He said you should go to the opening of Congress +today. He says you might be surprised."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I had my surprise for the day already."</p> + +<p>"Gonzales was serious. He says you should go. It starts at four +o'clock."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll go. Better take me to Gobernacion. I'll need a pass +from the Press Bureau. No, wait, let's go to Duarte's place. He takes +his siesta at this time. I'll call that Vardieno bitch from his place."</p> + +<p>Hall opened his tie. "Have we time to stop for a beer?" he asked. "I'm +dying for a drink."</p> + +<p>"No. We might miss Duarte. He'll have beer for you."</p> + +<p>Pepe was right. Duarte did have beer, and had they stopped on the way, +they would have missed him. He was about to leave the house when they +arrived. Duarte was wearing the green dress uniform of a Mexican +lieutenant-colonel, to which he had pinned his Spanish medals and +insignia.</p> + +<p>"Going to war?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"No. To the opening of Congress."</p> + +<p>"You've got time."</p> + +<p>"Hall is dying," Pepe said. "He needs cold beer."</p> + +<p>The Mexican brought out five bottles of beer. "I've got more in the ice +box," he said. "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"He wants to kill someone," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"Me too. What of it?"</p> + +<p>Hall put the mouth of the opened bottle to his lips, tilted his head +back. "God," he said, "Pepe is right. Let me make one phone call, and +then I'll spill it. I've got to get it off my chest before I blow the +top."</p> + +<p>He reached the Vardieno girl on the phone. She was so sorry. The lists +had all gone down to the Hall of Congress. Anyway, all requests for +foreign writers had to come through their embassies. That was the Press +Chief's new ruling.</p> + +<p>"That's fine. That settles it," Hall said when he put the phone away. +"Now I must ask the Ambassador to approve me for the press gallery."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mateo," Duarte said. "I can wait a full hour if necessary." +He put a bottle of cold beer into Hall's hand. "Tell us about it."</p> + +<p>"I'll wait outside," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"No. Stay with us, Pepe. I want you to know the facts. Do you both +remember that I was waiting for a letter from Havana? Well, I got it. +Two letters, in fact. They told me what I wanted to know about Ansaldo." +He drained the second bottle and then told them what had happened to him +at the Embassy.</p> + +<p>"Don't bother with him," Duarte said. "You don't need his permission. +I'll give you my diplomatic invitation and my carnet. The uniform is all +I need to get through the gates. You'll sit in the diplomatic gallery +with me."</p> + +<p>"Great."</p> + +<p>"You can even act as Skidmore's interpreter."</p> + +<p>"<i>Con mucho gusto!</i>"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Riding to the Hall of Congress, Duarte drew Hall's attention to the loud +speakers fastened to the poles in every plaza. "The government has +bought over a hundred speakers in the past two weeks," he said. "I know, +because most of them were bought in California and I had to O.K. their +transit duty-free through Mexico. I think our friend Gamburdo is up to +something today."</p> + +<p>Hall looked at a knot of grim-faced <i>Hermanitos</i> standing under one of +the speakers. "I think the people suspect it too."</p> + +<p>"We couldn't get an advance copy of the speech at the Embassy, Mateo. +Usually, Tabio releases advance copies to the press and the diplomatic +corps on the morning of the speech."</p> + +<p>"I wonder why?"</p> + +<p>"I can only suspect the worst. After the speech, can you come back to +the house with me? I want to hear what happened to you. Commander New +called me this morning and told me that he had asked the police to +investigate Fielding's death."</p> + +<p>"What? On the phone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the damned idiot! Now even if the police are not fixed every damned +fascist in South America knows that the Fielding thing went wrong!"</p> + +<p>"It's too late for cursing now. Let's talk about the whole picture after +the speech."</p> + +<p>The plaza facing the Hall of Congress was filling up with citizens who +had come to hear the speech over the public-address system. Scattered +through the crowds were men carrying signs reading "<i>Viva</i> Eduardo +Gamburdo." Duarte pointed them out.</p> + +<p>"Every one a Cross-and-Sword ruffian," he said. "I used to see the same +faces while the Falange was legal. They then wore the blue shirt."</p> + +<p>"I can't see their faces," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"I've seen their faces. Three months ago Lombardo came to San Hermano to +address the C.T.A.L. convention. The same gang showed up with their +filthy signs, only this time the signs read: '<i>Viva</i> Christ the King' +and 'Go back to Bolshevik Mexico, you Dirty Jew' and 'Down with the +Commune of the anti-Christ' and other lovely things. I know them."</p> + +<p>"Something is happening," Duarte said when they were in the building. +"Everyone is too quiet." They followed a military escort to the Mexican +box.</p> + +<p>The Mexican Ambassador was tense. "I don't like it," he said to Hall and +Duarte. "Why is everyone so quiet on the rostrum?"</p> + +<p>"They look as if they've seen a ghost," Hall said.</p> + +<p>Duarte studied the faces of the officials on the flag-decked rostrum. +"Where's Gamburdo?" he said. "Has anyone seen him?"</p> + +<p>"I saw his car parked outside when I came in," the Ambassador said.</p> + +<p>"What's that? Do you hear it, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"Sounds like distant thunder, Felipe."</p> + +<p>"It's not thunder. It's the crowd. What have they got to cheer about?"</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo's cheer leaders must have gone to work."</p> + +<p>"I don't like it," the Mexican Ambassador said. "I don't like it."</p> + +<p>A gavel fell on a block. At a signal from the President of the Senate, a +military band hidden in one of the caucus rooms began to play the +national anthem. The music was piped in to the great hall over the +public-address system.</p> + +<p>The gavel called the Congress to order. A clerk called the roll, the +Senate head started the parliamentary ritual. Then the band started to +play the national anthem again, this time without a signal. A door +behind the rostrum opened.</p> + +<p>In the doorway, flanked by his two young sons, Anibal Tabio sat in a +wheel chair. His closest friend, Esteban Lavandero, the Minister of +Education, stood behind him. Slowly, the chair was wheeled to the +rostrum.</p> + +<p>"Members of the Congress," the Senate Chief shouted, "The President of +the nation has come to deliver his annual address."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_ten" id="Chapter_ten"></a><i>Chapter ten</i></h2> + + +<p>There were two shouts. On the floor, one of the Senators screamed "<i>Viva +La Republica!</i>" At the same moment a young voice in the press gallery +yelled, "<i>Viva</i> Don Anibal Tabio!" and in the great hall every man +sprang to his feet. The low distant thunder of the crowds in the Plaza +had now swelled to a roar whose joyous overtones poured into the Hall of +Congress through the doors, the windows, the steel and marble walls +themselves. Senators and Deputies of the Popular Front Parties were the +first in the hall to find their voices. "<i>Viva</i> Don Anibal!" they +shouted, applauding wildly, laughing, yelling, embracing one another, +wondering if the tears in their eyes could be seen by their colleagues. +The anti-Tabio Congressmen remained on their feet, their hands moving in +the motions of applause, their hearts cold and sick. Somehow, Eduardo +Gamburdo had found his former place on the rostrum, was now standing and +applauding with the other people in the hall. The signals had been +crossed. The dead President had come to life. Anibal Tabio was sitting +before the chromium microphone, serene and unmoving, his paralyzed legs +neatly covered with a light Indian blanket.</p> + +<p>Outside, the crowd had begun to sing the national anthem. The +legislators, the reporters, many of the Latin American diplomats in the +visitors' gallery took up the words. Hall glanced at his neighbors. +Tears flowed down the cheeks of Duarte and his chief. A few rows away, +Skidmore and Orville Smith, correctly dressed in formal afternoon wear, +stood stiffly at attention, their eyes firmly riveted to the strange +tableau of Tabio and his entourage.</p> + +<p>Someone thrust a huge bouquet of orange and blue mountain flowers at the +invalid in the wheel chair. His son Diego accepted the flowers, laid +them tenderly on an empty chair. Diego at fifteen was heavier than his +father had ever been, darker, more like an Indian peasant than the son +of Anibal Tabio. His brother Simon, who now accepted the second bouquet, +was an eighteen-year-old replica of Don Anibal himself. Tall, lithe, he +had the same fair brown hair, the same thin spiritual face as the +father. Lavandero, standing behind Tabio's chair, had the dark, brooding +face of a Moor. His shock of black hair started at the peak of a high, +broad forehead; his large black mustache failed to dominate his thick, +strong lips. He was rubbing a hairy fist in his eyes and talking softly +to Tabio.</p> + +<p>The President, at fifty-three, seemed to have aged ten years since Hall +had last seen him. His hair had turned gray, and everything about him +was thinner than ever before in his life. In Geneva, Hall had always +wondered what would have happened to the thin, delicate frame of Anibal +Tabio in a tropical hurricane. Now, even from the gallery, Hall could +see that Tabio had grown so thin that the high cheek bones which had +always marked his slender face now stuck out like two sharp points, +almost burying the deep-set gray eyes. Tabio sat quietly in his wheel +chair, smiling at friends on the floor, looking first to Diego then to +Simon, gently patting the hand of his older son when the boy put his +hand on the father's fragile shoulder.</p> + +<p>The ovation continued when the singing of the national anthem was +completed. Tabio turned to Lavandero, whispered a few words. The +Minister of Education held his hands, palms out, toward the assemblage. +"Please," he said. "Please."</p> + +<p>Guests and legislators took their seats. In another room, a drummer +dropped his cymbal on the floor. It rent the sudden silence of the great +hall, and then its echoes were stilled.</p> + +<p>Anibal Tabio squeezed the hands of his sons, drew a deep breath, and +faced the microphone before him.</p> + +<p>"My countrymen," he said, "this is the third year in which I have had +the honor of addressing you at this solemn hour. A week ago, I would +have said that my chances of preaching my own funeral sermon were better +than my chances of opening this, the fifteenth free Congress of our +beloved Republic.</p> + +<p>"But since then ..." he leaned forward, his long chin jutting +pugnaciously forward as he gasped for breath, "since then many things +have come to my ears. I have heard rumors. Strange and disturbing rumors +about what was going to happen today. I need not repeat these rumors to +you. You have all heard them."</p> + +<p>Hall looked at Skidmore's face as Smith translated Tabio's words.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have heard them. When they came to my ears," Tabio said, "I +thought: What is happening? Who dares to challenge the mandate of the +people? Who dares to speak of perverting the will of the people? It was +then that I knew, as never before, that a President's place is with the +people. If I could sit up in my bed and talk this way to my sons, to my +dear friend Esteban Lavandero, then I could sit up in this chair before +you, the chosen representatives of the people.</p> + +<p>"My good friends, this may be the last time I will ever speak to +you ..."</p> + +<p>Shouts of "No!" rang all over the hall.</p> + +<p>"Hear me, friends. Hear me and mark well what I say. Once this nation +honored me with the post of Minister of Foreign Affairs. As your +Minister, I crossed the ocean. I went to Geneva. I went to Spain, from +where we have derived so much of our culture, our language, so much of +our personality as a people.</p> + +<p>"We are today a free people, not the colonial vassals we were in the +days of Imperial Spain. But Spain, too, had become a free nation in +1931. I saw the free Spain at the hour of her birth, when the hated +Bourbon heard the voice of Spain's millions at the ballot and fled to +the empty pleasures of a decaying society abroad. I also saw the free +Spain in the hours of her agony. It was at that hour that I beheld for +the first time the ugly bloodless face of fascism.</p> + +<p>"It is a cold, metallic, impersonal face, my countrymen, the face of an +Agusto Segura grown to superhuman power, the maniacal face of a mad +killer who suddenly finds all the world's horrible instruments of +destruction in his idiot hands. I saw this beast grow strong on the +blood of free men, and I wept for a gallant people who, for a few brief +moments, had presumed to control their own destinies.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Tabio said, his hand pointing across an ocean, "yes, I wept for +Spain, but through my tears I began to see my own native land, saw my +own people enjoying this precious freedom. And at that moment I knew +that I must dedicate whatever remained of my life to doing all that was +in my power as a man and as a citizen to keep the beast of fascism from +gorging on our young Republic.</p> + +<p>"I have fought that fight to this very moment. But more important than +anything I have done has been the magnificent unity of our peoples in +their determination to struggle against fascism in all of its black +forms. It has not been the President who has led the people in this +great crusade. No, my countrymen. It has been the people who have +created and given their mandate to the President, to the Congress."</p> + +<p>Tabio had never learned a single orator's trick. As a statesman, he +retained all the speaking habits he had originally formed during his +early years as a young professor of history at the university. Teaching, +he once explained, was the process of thinking aloud. And at this +moment, in what he guessed would be his last speech to the nation, +Anibal Tabio returned to the concepts which had gone into his great book +on the relationships of people to government in modern democracy. For +the better part of thirty minutes, he explored these relationships +again. After all these years, the professor was back in class, patiently +expounding his ideas to a new set of faces.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is the state and the people. I have not told you anything +new. You have heard this all before from me." Tabio was laughing softly, +and at himself. "But that is what happens when the people elect a +pedantic professor as their President. Instead of a speech, they get a +long, dry lecture."</p> + +<p>Tabio paused, frowned at the people who sat hushed in the hall. "Have +you forgotten how to laugh?" he asked. A few loyal followers tried to +laugh. "Good," Tabio said.</p> + +<p>"But I am not finished, my countrymen. I have spoken of the ideal +democratic state. Many of us like to feel that we have achieved this +state. That perfection is ours. This is dangerous thinking. Of course, +we are not as imperfect as a certain newspaper in San Hermano and a +certain organization which has usurped the symbol of brotherly love as +its emblem"—this time he drew some real laughter—"we are not as +imperfect as they would have you believe.</p> + +<p>"But even if we were the most perfect state in the world, today this +would mean very little. Our chances of surviving, of progressing until +the Republic of Man became even more attractive than the Kingdom of God, +our chances of surviving at all would still be obscured. If our nation +were some remote island in the skies, whirling on its own axis, remote +from all other lands, perhaps then I would have no fears for our future.</p> + +<p>"We are not this remote planet unto ourselves. We share a world with a +hundred nations, a thousand races. I do not regret that we are part of +this world. I think we should rejoice in our membership in the world's +family of races. But we must not lose sight of the fact that our nation, +no less than any other nation, be it free or fascist, is part of this +strange family.</p> + +<p>"We must never forget that the great war which started in unhappy Spain +in July, 1936, was not a war between good and evil in Spain alone. It +was a war not of two Spanish ideas but of two fundamental world ideas. +It was the start of the universal death struggle between the slave-world +ideas of fascism and the free-world ideas of political and economic +democracy. It was the start of the fascist war against freedom that has +now spread all over the world."</p> + +<p>Tabio glanced at his two sons. He accepted a glass of water, smiling at +the legislators in the front rows as he drank. "Freedom," he said, "is +there a man who does not know the meaning of the word?" Before he +returned to the theme of the world war which had started in Spain, he +explored the full meaning of freedom in modern times. It was only after +he had delivered a profound essay on freedom which shook Matthew Hall +until the American felt a lump rising in his throat that Tabio picked up +the earlier threads.</p> + +<p>"In Spain, then, the forces of freedom suffered a heavy loss. But what +of those small men with narrow little minds who held the reins of so +much of the world's power while Spain bled? What of these tiny +statesmen, these sleek somnambulists who held lace handkerchiefs before +their narrow mouths and laughed while fascism marched in Spain? What of +these wretches who, through the immoral instrument called +non-intervention, sought to end freedom in Spain in the criminal +conviction that the blood of Spain alone would satisfy the fascist +beast?</p> + +<p>"History was not long in giving the lie to these gentry. The beast who +had whetted his insatiable appetite in Spain now started almost +immediately to claw at the world. It was in April of 1939 that Madrid +fell. By September the beast belched and turned on the very creatures +who had covertly and overtly helped him subdue Spain."</p> + +<p>That Tabio had not raised his voice at this point, that he in fact spoke +more softly, accentuated all the more the scorn and the anger in his +heart.</p> + +<p>"Nations have fallen to the beast," he continued. "Nations of meager +freedom, like Poland. Nations of great and traditional freedom, like +France. The war has spread over the world like a Biblical plague. Russia +could not escape it. Nor could our great sister Republic, the United +States.</p> + +<p>"Yes, North Americans now have felt the pain, the anguish, the power of +Axis treachery. No nation can escape this war.</p> + +<p>"My countrymen, we are not an island in the skies. We are a sovereign +nation in the same world, on the same earth, in the same waters, sharing +the same era as the United States, England, Russia and China. It is not +for us to choose whether or not we can stay out of this war. That choice +the world does not permit us. Our only choice is the determination of +what our role must be in this war.</p> + +<p>"There has been strange talk in our land lately. There has been strange +and deceitful talk of neutrality. Has it not occurred to any of you that +those in our midst who howl the loudest for neutrality, who show such a +sudden concern for the lives and safety of the humblest Indian peasant, +that these pious seekers after neutrality have never before worn the +white dove on their family escutcheons? Who are these peaceful gentlemen +who grow pale in the presence of bloodshed? Are they not the same +persons who as young men were proud to be officers in the armies of +Segura, who laughed and drank as they ruthlessly shot down defenseless +miners in the northern provinces?</p> + +<p>"Who are these sudden pacifists in our Republic? Are they not the very +devout gentlemen who sent money and rum and cigars to the fascists in +Spain during the Spanish phase of this war? Are they not the very men +who sent cables of homage to Hitler and Mussolini after the shame of +Munich? Are they not the very men who even now wear the medals of Nazi +Germany, of Blackshirt Italy, of Falangist Spain—who wear these medals +proudly while they chortle over the blood of dying Russians on the +Eastern Front, of dying Americans on the Bataan peninsula?"</p> + +<p>Tabio stopped. His eyes searched the press gallery, then fixed on José +Fernandez. He pointed a graceful hand at the publisher of <i>El +Imparcial</i>.</p> + +<p>"I ask you," he said, "are they not the very men who write in their +papers that Adolf Hitler, whatever be his alleged faults, is waging a +holy crusade on behalf of Christian civilization against Marxist +atheism?"</p> + +<p>Tabio continued looking at Fernandez, but Lavandero shot a fierce scowl +at Ambassador Skidmore, who seemed bewildered and unhappy as Smith +translated Tabio's questions. The Ambassador, too, had seen the object +of Tabio's shaft. Angry, uneasy laughter broke out on the floor. A cry +of "Long live the United Nations!" from one of the Popular Front +deputies was immediately answered with the shout "Long live Christ the +King" from the public gallery.</p> + +<p>The President, who had heard both shouts, turned to the gallery. "Who +are these neutrals?" he asked. "Are they not the same fascists who hope +to fool God by casting their fascist swords in the image of the Cross of +Jesus? Are they not the fanatics who, rather than see the Axis beast +destroyed, would first destroy the freedom and the dignity of their own +land?</p> + +<p>"They lie. There can be no neutrals in this world war. He who calls +himself a neutral is either a fool or a fascist. And the fine gentlemen +who prate of neutrality are very clever men."</p> + +<p>The Popular Front Congressmen rose to their feet, applauding and adding +to the din with their shouts of agreement. They were joined by a few of +the independents. The delegates of the rightist coalition remained in +their seats, their arms folded across their chests. But they were not +quiet. As the ovation for Tabio continued, loud cries came from the +ranks of the men who kept their seats. "Down with atheism!" shouted one +rightist Senator. "We have no quarrel with any other nation!" another +yelled. "We will not die for Godless Russia!"</p> + +<p>"Long live democracy!" a Popular Front deputy answered. "Long live the +anti-fascist United Nations!"</p> + +<p>Esteban Lavandero pleaded with the Congress for silence.</p> + +<p>"My countrymen," Tabio said, "there can be no neutrality in this war. +There is one official neutral in Europe. His name is Francisco Franco. +We all know what this hypocritical neutrality really is; how it shields +the vile aid that fascist Spain is lending to the Axis. But this is as +it should be. Franco is a fascist, and today fascism must triumph all +over the world or be crushed forever.</p> + +<p>"But what of our own nation, what of the twenty nations of Hispanic +America in this war? What is our stake in this world struggle?</p> + +<p>"If the Axis wins this war, we, like all other nations, must of +necessity lose our political freedom. And if we once lose our political +democracy, we must begin again the long, bitter struggle to win it once +more before we can even begin to dream of creating an era of economic +democracy.</p> + +<p>"If the United Nations win, if world fascism is crushed forever, a new +world era of economic democracy must begin at once. It will not come +easily. The defeat of the Axis will not immediately bring in its wake +the millennium. It will, however, give the common people of the world +the final realization of their great power. In this lies the inherent +strength of political democracy. For democracy is not a static thing. It +can grow and bring in the era of economic democracy, or it can falter +and give way to fascism.</p> + +<p>"The common people of the world, today fighting and dying behind the +banners of the United Nations, have served notice on history that they +will not rest until fascism has been swept from the face of this earth."</p> + +<p>Tabio was now speaking with both arms raised, his hands reaching out to +everyone. "My countrymen, I have said enough. I know that I have spoken +the thoughts that are uppermost in the minds of that great majority of +our citizens who have given their mandate to you and to me. In a week, +you will have to frame the mandate for the delegation which will speak +for our Republic at the forthcoming conference of the nations of the +Americas. Speak out! Speak out honestly, speak out openly. Speak as the +spokesmen of a democracy. Speak as the citizens of the embattled united +democracies of the entire world must speak at this hour. Speak for the +free men of the free world. Speak firmly, for you will be speaking not +only for the future of our own Republic but for the future of all +mankind."</p> + +<p>The Cuban Ambassador, whose seat was nearest the podium, crossed the +plush rail and rushed to Tabio's wheel chair. He fell to his knees, +embraced the President. In a flash, Eduardo Gamburdo left his own place +and copied the Cuban's gesture. The rostrum became crowded with +dignitaries bent on paying the same homage to Anibal Tabio. The envoys +of the Latin American democracies, the delegates of the Free French and +the Spanish Republican juntas, the leaders of the trade unions and the +chiefs of the Popular Front parties milled around the wheel chair as the +pro-democrats in the hall added their voices to the cheers of the crowds +in the Plaza. Duarte, his soft raspy words choked and unintelligible, +embraced Hall.</p> + +<p>Lavandero was pulling the wheel chair back toward the door of the +Speaker's Chamber. The well-wishers of the President followed him into +the room. For a moment, the people in the auditorium applauded the blank +door through which Tabio had vanished. Then young Simon Tabio returned +to pick up the flowers on the chair, and his father's supporters cheered +louder, punctuating their cheers with cries of "Long live Don Anibal!" +The youth streaked into the room behind the platform.</p> + +<p>"Let's get out of here," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"I've got to go to my office," Duarte said. "I have to prepare a report +on the speech. Join me, and then we can talk."</p> + +<p>"Pepe can drive us over."</p> + +<p>"No one drives today," Duarte said when they reached the visitors' +doorway.</p> + +<p>The streets were jammed thick with people. Hall had never seen so many +people in San Hermano before. It was as if every house, every building +in the university, every shop, every wharf, every school had been turned +inside out and its people poured out into the streets. Whole families in +their best clothes, trolley drivers in their work uniforms, longshoremen +in their dungarees, even peasants from the other side of Monte Azul in +their brown-cotton trousers and their broad-brimmed straw hats milled +along the sidewalks, the pavements, the Plaza, the trolley tracks. Cars, +taxis, trucks, wagons, trolleys were parked crazily all over the place.</p> + +<p>Pepe, like a hundred other drivers within a block of the Hall of +Congress, was standing on top of his car, waving the flag of the +Republic, shouting, "Long live the United Nations! Long live Don Anibal! +Long live the Republic!"</p> + +<p>Crowds formed around each parked vehicle, joined the cries of the +drivers. The roofs of the trolleys were jammed with groups of students +and motormen waving flags or the banners of their student societies and +their unions. Thousands of Hermanitos, kids in overalls, housewives, +lawyers, shopkeepers wandered through the crowds with framed portraits +of Anibal Tabio which an hour ago had hung from the walls of their +homes, their offices, their shops. The pictures of Tabio ranged from +formal photographs and oil paintings to crude charcoal drawings and +pictures torn from the daily press.</p> + +<p>Hall and Duarte made their way to Pepe's sedan. When he saw them, he put +the flag in his left hand and with his right hand he pointed to +something on the ground on the opposite side of the car. "Look!" Pepe +shouted. "Down here!"</p> + +<p>A pile of torn Cross-and-Sword placards lay on the cobbles inside a ring +of laughing young Hermanitos who were urinating on the signs. Some of +the boys in this ring showed signs of having been in a fight.</p> + +<p>"The fascists ran away," Pepe laughed. "Don Anibal's speech split their +filthy ears."</p> + +<p>"I'll see you later," Hall told Pepe.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" Pepe shouted. He leaned over the side of his cab. "Boy," he +said, "boy, where is that flag for the American <i>compañero</i>? That's the +one. Thank you, boy." He lay down on his belly, stretched a huge paw +into the crowd around the remains of the Cross-and-Sword banners. When +he stood up, he had a small American flag in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful," Hall said, taking the flag. "I guess it's also the Yankee +day to howl."</p> + +<p>A crowd formed around Hall and Duarte. They saluted the American flag, +saluted the Mexican uniform.</p> + +<p>"Long live the United States! Long live Mexico!" the crowd shouted, and +the two men answered, as one, "Long live Don Anibal!"</p> + +<p>The crowd separated, let them through. They walked a few steps, and then +another crowd formed around them. Again they listened to cheers for the +United States and Mexico, again they responded with their cheer for +Tabio.</p> + +<p>"Jesus H. Christ," Hall said. "This is the first time I've carried an +American flag in the streets since I was a Boy Scout in Ohio."</p> + +<p>"It will do you good, Mateo."</p> + +<p>"I like it. But try to make anyone believe it back home!"</p> + +<p>At the fourth block Hall and Duarte started to detour around a trolley +car which had stopped in the middle of a crossing. A dozen hands reached +down from the crowded roof. "<i>Compañeros!</i> Take our hands! Climb up! +Take our hands! We want a speech!"</p> + +<p>"Long live Mexico! Homage to Colonel Felipe Duarte, Counselor of the +Mexican Embassy and hero of the war against the fascists in Spain!"</p> + +<p>Duarte had to join the crowd on the roof of the stalled train. He made a +short speech about Mexico, Republican Spain, and the greatness of Anibal +Tabio.</p> + +<p>Two more blocks of happy, cheering Hermanitos. Vivas, salutes for the +American flag and the Mexican uniform. Men in dungarees and heavy shoes +saluting the flag and the uniform with clenched fists. Young women and +old men who embraced Hall and Duarte. Even an ancient with a +nicotine-yellowed white beard, who wiggled out of one crowd, tore the +flag out of Hall's hand, kissed it, and then handed it back to the +American with an embrace and a viva for Voodro Veelson.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They were relaxing over a beer in Duarte's office when the explosion +came.</p> + +<p>"What the hell...?" Hall cried.</p> + +<p>There were two explosions. A little one, like the crack of a distant +artillery piece in the mountains and then a louder, deep-toned whoosh of +a noise. They had both heard such noises before.</p> + +<p>"Remember that noise, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>Hall was on his feet. "Do I! Only one thing makes a noise like that," he +said. "Direct hit on a gasoline tank."</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>While they were washing, the sun had begun to set. Now a new sun had +risen in the skies of San Hermano, risen at a point about a mile north +of the Embassy. A great sheet of flame had shot from the ground, +stabbing at the purpling skies, straining to leap clear of the round +heavy blobs of black smoke which rose from the same place and surged +over and around the fires.</p> + +<p>The streets were more crowded than they had been when Hall and Tabio +left the Congress. New signs had been added to the placards and +portraits of Tabio which the people carried. Tremendous sketches and +blown-up photos of Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin and Chiang Kai-shek, +nailed to frames with handles for two men, bobbed over the heads of the +crowds. Duarte, from the balcony, asked the people on the street what +had happened. They thought it was a victory bonfire.</p> + +<p>"The hell it is, Felipe. Let's see for ourselves."</p> + +<p>"I must stay and write my cable. You go and then come back here."</p> + +<p>"Can you lend me a car and a chauffeur?"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't drive a car through these crowds. You'll have to walk. +Leave through the back way. It opens on a narrow street leading to the +Avenida de la Liberacion. You'll save time."</p> + +<p>Hall found the narrow street deserted. He set out at a fast pace, his +eyes on the flames and the increasingly heavy puffs of smoke. The shouts +of the crowds on the broad avenues and the plazas followed him up the +small street. Over the cries of the Hermanitos came the wail of the +sirens, the clamor of the bells on the American fire engines the city +had purchased a few years back.</p> + +<p>The crowd half-pushed, half-guided Hall to the entrance of the Ritz. He +ducked into the lobby to catch his breath, bought some cigars at the +stand, lit one, and then decided to have a quick drink.</p> + +<p>Margaret Skidmore was at the bar with Giselle Prescott and a young man +Hall had met at the Embassy ball. The Prescott woman was wearing an +immense wheel of a white hat. She was very drunk.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"The Reds blew up a church," Margaret said. "How are you, Matt? I heard +that you were out on a monumental bender. Too many women?"</p> + +<p>"Too much alcohol." Then, to the man with the girls, "Didn't we meet at +the Embassy party? My name is Hall."</p> + +<p>"I'm the Marques de Runa."</p> + +<p>"Spanish?"</p> + +<p>Margaret answered for him. "No. Not exactly. The family had the title +revalidated in 1930."</p> + +<p>Giselle Prescott shuddered over an emptied glass. She whispered +something about rum, romanism and rebellion.</p> + +<p>"What's eating her?" Hall asked Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Gin and communism. She's allergic to burning churches."</p> + +<p>"My father phoned the governor of our province and demanded soldiers to +protect the family estates," the young Marques said. "It is scandalous. +We hear that they've already raped a nun and killed two priests. My +father says that if El Tovarich ..."</p> + +<p>"Who saw the church burning?" Hall interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Everyone, señor."</p> + +<p>"Any of you?"</p> + +<p>Silence. "Any of you?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"It was anarchy," the Marques said. "When El Tovarich started to rant in +Congress today the Reds swarmed into the city from the wharves. They +tore a religious poster from my cousin's arms and beat him within an +inch of his life."</p> + +<p>"Is that a fact?" Hall was staring at the gold emblem of the Cross and +Sword in the Marques' lapel. "That's too bad."</p> + +<p>"You see what I meant," Margaret said. "Now you understand me, Matt."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Now I understand. How about you, Giselle?"</p> + +<p>"What about me? I'm filing for the WP today."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better come with me. I'm going to have a look at this +burning church. Might be good color stuff."</p> + +<p>"I don' wanna look," she said. "Gives me hives. Besides, I know all +about it anyway."</p> + +<p>Hall put his arm through Margaret's. "Let's you and me look, then," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Don't go!" the Marques cried. "You're both dressed too well. They'll +kill you."</p> + +<p>"I'd better not go with you, Matt."</p> + +<p>"But I insist. I'm going and you're coming with me."</p> + +<p>They watched de Runa stiffen. "Now don't be a child," she said. "Hall +will bring me back intact."</p> + +<p>"Don't go," the Marques said.</p> + +<p>Hall freed his hands. For a moment he thought he would have to use them +on the Marques. Then Margaret tugged his arm. "Let's go if we're going," +she said. "You wait right here for me with Giselle, Freddie. I'll meet +you here in half an hour."</p> + +<p>The fire was five blocks from the Ritz. There was a half block heap of +glowing brick and rubble. Behind the rubble stood an old church, one +wall partially blown out. The firemen were playing streams of water into +and around this hole.</p> + +<p>"God!" Margaret said. "The stench!"</p> + +<p>"Oil. My guess is that a thousand gallons of oil went up in smoke."</p> + +<p>In the crowd standing at the rim of the fire lines, a taxi driver turned +around and glanced at Hall. "Some fire," he said.</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"Garage. The Phoenix Garage went up in smoke. Blew a hole in the +Cathedral when it exploded."</p> + +<p>"The Phoenix Garage?"</p> + +<p>"That's what it is, señor." The driver moved closer to the gutted +rubble.</p> + +<p>"You wait here, Margaret. I'm going to talk to the firemen." He crossed +the fire lines, found his way to the engine captain near the main +hydrant. When he returned to Margaret, he gave her a complete report. +"The fire chiefs say that the Reds didn't blow up the church at all," he +said. "Seems as if the gasoline tanks in the garage caught fire by +themselves."</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed. "Don't tell Gis," she said. "She's already cabled a +story to the States that the Reds burned the church."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_eleven" id="Chapter_eleven"></a><i>Chapter eleven</i></h2> + + +<p>Duarte knew about the Phoenix Garage before Hall returned to the Mexican +Embassy. "Commander New dropped in while you were at the fire," he +explained. "He told me."</p> + +<p>"Does he know anything else about it?"</p> + +<p>"Not about the fire. But he does know a little more about Fielding. He +says that Fielding's files have been cleaned out. There wasn't a single +copy of any of Fielding's reports when the British officials opened the +files."</p> + +<p>"But the British have all the dope, Felipe. Fielding's reports—at least +the ones he showed me—were all carbons of the reports he made to his +Embassy."</p> + +<p>"I know that. But if his reports are now in the hands of the Falange, +the Axis knows it too. It will give them time to cover their traces. It +will also put the finger on you. One of the things they did find in the +office was a note Fielding had made reminding himself to prepare copies +of certain reports for you, Mateo. That might explain what happened to +you in that Falangist café on the waterfront the other day. Fielding had +already been killed when you were drugged."</p> + +<p>Hall lay down on the couch in Duarte's office, took his shoes off. "I'll +be all right in a few minutes," he said. "I just need about ten minutes +of this."</p> + +<p>"I'll get some cold beer."</p> + +<p>"No. I don't need it. Listen, Felipe, do the British know that I was +drugged?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. I didn't tell them, anyway. I wouldn't, without your +permission."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you should tell them. It might do some good. But what are we +going to do now that we know about the fire? I still feel like a drunk +on a merry-go-round."</p> + +<p>Duarte laughed. "You can always get off and go home," he said.</p> + +<p>"No. It feels worse when I get off."</p> + +<p>"I did something this morning, Mateo. I sent word to General Mogrado +through one of our diplomatic couriers."</p> + +<p>"Mogrado? Of the Spanish air force?"</p> + +<p>"He's living in Mexico City now. I asked him to rush everything he could +get on Ansaldo. The largest Spanish Republican colony in the hemisphere +is in Mexico, you know. I figured that surely there must be one man +among the exiles—a doctor, a former Army officer, someone—who could +give us the dope on Ansaldo."</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a possibility."</p> + +<p>"We'll see."</p> + +<p>"Don't let me fall asleep here. I've got things to do."</p> + +<p>"Then get some rest. I've got to complete my report." Duarte turned to +his typewriter, glanced at what he had written on the sheet in the +machine. "Mateo," he said, "I'm meeting Dr. Gonzales in an hour. We're +going to try to reach Lavandero with your Havana information on Ansaldo. +Will you join me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have some unfinished business myself. I think that before the +night is over we'll know a lot more about Ansaldo."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>Hall stifled a yawn. "I'm going to take a chance and shoot the works on +someone who can talk. It might work."</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Mateo. You look very tired."</p> + +<p>"I'll turn in early. Let's have breakfast at your place tomorrow, eh?"</p> + +<p>Hall found a phone booth in a tobacco shop near the Embassy. He called +Jerry.</p> + +<p>"I knew it would be you," she said. "I was waiting for you to call, you +dog."</p> + +<p>"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I'm taking you to dinner."</p> + +<p>"I'm famished. Where are you?"</p> + +<p>"I can be at the Bolivar in about fifteen minutes. Meet me in the +lobby?"</p> + +<p>"All right. But hurry. And just in case you've forgotten what I look +like, I'll be wearing a red carnation."</p> + +<p>He became part of the growing multi-directional parade in the streets. +Nightfall had brought colored torches to the hands of many of the +Hermanitos, and hundreds of new huge portraits of the four leaders of +the United Nations. There was a new pattern to the street festivities. +Now whole groups of Hermanitos, each marching behind a picture of one of +the four statesmen, made their way through the crowds to the embassies +of the United Nations and then to the Plaza de la Republica, where they +paraded their signs and their sentiments in front of all the government +buildings and the Presidencia. After that, the marchers joined the +milling groups of celebrators who just seemed to move around in slow +circles, singing, cheering, loudly wishing a long life to Anibal Tabio +and the United Nations.</p> + +<p>The darkened Plaza was packed, torches in the hands of hundreds of the +crowd bringing more light to the ancient square than had been seen there +since the nation had been forced to begin conserving its fuel. Hall cut +through the crowds toward the Bolivar, too excited to sense his fatigue. +This is a night I shall long remember, he thought, this is the night I +will tell my children about if I ever have any children. This is the +night that I saw the power of the common people, the night I saw +democracy take to the streets of a nation's capital and tell the world +that fascism's day of cheap triumphs is done. This is the night of the +meek who shall yet inherit the earth.</p> + +<p>Through the shoulders of the crowd, he could see Jerry's red hair. As he +drew closer, he saw that she had two little girls in her arms. The +children were crying wildly, the tears choking in their throats and +coursing down their contorted faces.</p> + +<p>"There, there," Jerry was saying to them, "everything will be all right. +You're only lost. We'll find out where you belong." But the strange +foreign words only added to the terror in the frightened hearts of the +girls.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Hall asked Jerry.</p> + +<p>"They're lost. I was afraid they'd get trampled or something, Matt."</p> + +<p>He spoke to the kids in their own language, soothing, silly words. Then +he took them in his arms while Jerry dried their tears with a perfumed +handkerchief. Between sobs, the little girls told Hall that they had +slipped out of the house to see the fiesta and had been having a swell +time until the crazy lady swooped them up, talking crazy words and +keeping them from going on their way.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where you live?" he asked them. They pointed toward their +own house. "We will take you there. And don't call the señorita a crazy +lady, little ones. She is your friend."</p> + +<p>"Are they lost?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>"Hell, no. Just tourists. Let's get them home, first."</p> + +<p>The girls lived nearly a mile from the Bolivar. They watched the +paraders in silence while Hall carried them to their house, but when he +reached their block the girls insisted that they could walk the rest of +the way. "No," he laughed, "I'm taking you right to your door. And I'm +waiting in the street until you come to your window and throw me a +kiss."</p> + +<p>The girls, who had less than a dozen years between them, giggled and hid +their heads in his shoulders. "We won't throw you a kiss," the older of +the sisters said, shyly. "You aren't our <i>novio</i>."</p> + +<p>"These little devils!" he laughed to Jerry. The girls began to squirm in +his arms. "No, little ones," he told them, "I won't make any more crazy +talk like the señorita."</p> + +<p>"This is our house."</p> + +<p>He put them down on the first steps. "Now hurry," he said. "Upstairs +with you, and be quick!"</p> + +<p>They scrambled up the stairs. "They're sweet," Jerry said. For a brief +moment, the faces of the two little girls appeared at the open window on +the first floor. Then the ample figure of a woman in a white cotton +dress loomed behind them.</p> + +<p>"Let's scram before they catch it," Hall said, but he was too late. The +shrill cries of the girls, as their mother flailed their behinds with a +righteous hand, followed Hall and Jerry down the street.</p> + +<p>"Me and my Good-Neighbor policy," Jerry said. "It's all my fault."</p> + +<p>"They deserve it. What would you do to your kids if they joined a +stampede?"</p> + +<p>Jerry had to laugh. "The same thing, I guess. But what's all the +celebrating about? Is it the local Fourth of July?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I have a funny feeling that in years to come it might be. Your +patient started it."</p> + +<p>"Tabio?"</p> + +<p>"President Anibal Tabio. He decided not to die today. He got out of bed +and addressed the opening session of the Congress and called for war on +the Axis."</p> + +<p>"You're kidding me again, Matt."</p> + +<p>"The hell I am. I was there. I saw him myself."</p> + +<p>"But he's paralyzed, Matt."</p> + +<p>"He spoke from a wheel chair." He told Jerry about the speech, and as +they walked through the dense crowds toward a restaurant, he translated +some of the signs carried by the people who swarmed on all sides of her.</p> + +<p>"<i>Abajo el Eje</i>—that's down with the Axis. And that one says Long live +the United Nations. <i>Mueran los Falangistas</i>—death to the Falangists."</p> + +<p>"What are they, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"The Spanish fascists. Hadn't you heard of them before?"</p> + +<p>Jerry shook her head. "I still don't see how he got out of bed. He must +have done it on nerves alone. I was at the lab all day with Marina and +Tabio's X-rays."</p> + +<p>"He delivered a great speech, Jerry."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet he did. I guess nothing can stop this country from joining the +democracies now, Matt."</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Nothing but Gamburdo—if Tabio dies."</p> + +<p>They had to wait on a street corner while a line of students carrying +red torches snake-danced across their path.</p> + +<p>"Where are we eating?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I know a wonderful place facing the sea wall. It's very plain, but the +food is stupendous. We'll have to walk, though."</p> + +<p>"I'm game. It's fun walking in these crowds tonight. It's almost like +New Year's Eve in New York."</p> + +<p>The restaurant was packed. The waiter had to put an extra table on the +sidewalk for Hall and Jerry. "It's better from here anyway," Hall told +her. "We can see the ocean and get away from the din inside."</p> + +<p>A hundred happy men and women jammed the interior of the restaurant, +singing to the music of the small orchestra, toasting the slogans which +were all over San Hermano this night. Hall invited the waiter to drink a +toast in sherry to Don Anibal, and then he ordered lobster salads and +steaks for Jerry and himself.</p> + +<p>"I missed you," he told Jerry and, hearing his words, he was startled to +realize that he meant them.</p> + +<p>"You're just lonely. But I like to hear you say it."</p> + +<p>"No. I really missed you."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Matt? You look all in."</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he said. "I've had a long day. What do you think of this +lobster salad?"</p> + +<p>Small talk. Make small, polite talk about lobsters and cabbages, talk +about the weather and your neighbor's garden, talk about anything before +you start talking love talk and then you'll forget why you have to talk +to her at all. "You're beautiful tonight," he said, softly.</p> + +<p>"I'm ignoring you, Hall."</p> + +<p>Good. Banter. Nice cheap café-society banter. Have to play the game as +she is played; silly brittle talk about nothing. Break her down, keep +her off guard, keep your own guard up. Talk about the lobster. Talk +about the steak. Make vacuous wise-cracks over the coffee. Now she's +pleased with the guava pastry. Be the man of the world. Talk about +guava.</p> + +<p>"You're talking down at me, Matt. I told you once before. I'm not really +stupid."</p> + +<p>"God, I'm sorry," he said. "I must have been groggy all through dinner."</p> + +<p>"You sounded it."</p> + +<p>"Can you walk?"</p> + +<p>"I'm too full."</p> + +<p>"Let's sit on the sea wall. It's the pleasantest spot in town."</p> + +<p>Hall bought a paper from a passing newsboy. They walked along the sea +wall for a block, and then he spread the paper out on top of the wall +and lifted Jerry to the broad ledge. They sat facing the sea, not saying +much of anything.</p> + +<p>"The beach looks so clean," she said. "Do you think ..."</p> + +<p>He leaped to the sand. "Take my hand," he said, "and bring the paper +with you." He spread the papers on the sand, laid his jacket over the +papers, and sprawled on the makeshift pallet. Jerry sat near him, took +his head in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Poor Matt! You're so tired. Want to tell me about it?"</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>She stroked his face with soft, gentle hands. "About what's bothering +you, darling. Something terrible is happening to you."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing wrong."</p> + +<p>"You're such a bad liar, darling. I can see it in your face."</p> + +<p>"Only that?"</p> + +<p>"It's enough. That is, when you care for a guy."</p> + +<p>"You're sticking your chin out, baby."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not. You're really a very gentle person. But you want to be +hard as nails, don't you, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I want to be, baby. I'd like to see the world a good +place for little guys who like republics. I'd like to kill the bastards +who are fouling up such a world. It sounds very big, I know. But I'm not +big. I'm a little guy and I like the world of little people. Or don't I +make sense?"</p> + +<p>"I think I understand you, Matt."</p> + +<p>"Later I'll read you Tabio's speech. Or at least the high lights, in +English. You'll get a pretty good idea of the things I believe in."</p> + +<p>"What was it like on the other side, Matt? In the war, I mean. Or don't +you want to talk about the war?"</p> + +<p>It's now or never, he thought. Tell her about the war, tell it to her +straight. If she's ever going to see it, she's got to see it now. "I +don't like to talk about it," he said, "but I will. I guess I owe it to +you to talk about it. I was there when it started, and I kept hollering +that it had started, but no one would believe me."</p> + +<p>"In Poland?"</p> + +<p>"Hell, no! In Madrid. The summer of '36. I reached Madrid in the fourth +week of July, and by September I'd seen enough of the Nazis and the +Italians to know it was World War Two." The words came easily, the whole +fabric. Tabio had told the story as a historian. This was the other way +it could be told, the way of the eyewitness, of the partisan. He told +her everything, about the fighting in Spain and about the slaughter of +the innocents; about the grotesque ballets of death and disintegration +on the green tables of Geneva; about the arrows of Falange, reaching out +from the festers of Spain to the New World. Everything but the role of +Ansaldo.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, "I think you can guess why I'm so bothered about this +war, why I sometimes act as if I have a very personal stake in it. +Please try to understand what I mean, Jerry."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a long moment. "I think I do," she said. "For the +past few days I've been thinking about the war. Ever since—oh, you know +since when. I've been thinking that if I don't do anything else, maybe +I'll join the Army as a nurse when we leave here."</p> + +<p>"You've got it bad, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I've got, darling. All I know is that I don't have +the right to be a Me Firster any more. Do you think I'm right about +that?"</p> + +<p>"Baby, listen to me. You don't have to go to Bataan to get into the war. +It's spread everywhere. The front stretches from Murmansk to Manila to +San Hermano. And it's the same front."</p> + +<p>"But what can I do here?"</p> + +<p>Hall drew a deep breath. "Let's both have a cigarette," he said. "This +is going to take some telling." He sat up, faced the girl, took her +hands and held them firmly. "Now, what I'm going to say might sound +harsh, Jerry. But you'll simply have to believe me."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"How much do you know about Dr. Ansaldo?"</p> + +<p>"Only that he's a nice guy. He's never made a pass at me, he behaves +like a gentleman, and he's one crack surgeon. Don't tell me he's no +good, Matt. I just won't believe it."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to believe me," Hall insisted. "What do you know about +Ansaldo's past? Do you know where he was during the Spanish War?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't the faintest idea. Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, I do. I saw him." Hall described his first meeting with Ansaldo. +As he spoke, Jerry abruptly withdrew her hands. Trembling, she backed +away from him, started to get up.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I wish you hadn't made love to me," she said, simply. "Now I feel +cheap—and used."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that. I ..."</p> + +<p>"You know it's true. You're not just another newspaperman. And you don't +give a damn about me. It was Ansaldo you were interested in from the +beginning. That's why you were on the same plane with us on the way +here. And that's why you ..."</p> + +<p>"You mean I'm a G-man? Don't be absurd."</p> + +<p>"Don't make it worse by calling me a fool. I liked you. I liked you a +lot. Don't make it worse now, Matt."</p> + +<p>"But you're dead wrong." He tried to put his arms around her. She shook +him off. "Believe me," he said, "I'm not government. You were right—but +only partially—about my original interest in your party. But tonight I +wish to hell it were only Ansaldo who interests me. It would make things +a lot easier all around. The other morning I was watching Marina when a +Spanish ship came in. Someone didn't want me to watch. I was drugged. +That's why I disappeared for a few days. It damn near finished me. I've +got something on Ansaldo—before I'm through I hope to have enough to +hang him. I mean it literally. I'm trying to have him fitted for the +same grave he thought I'd have. And it's going to be simple. What won't +be simple is convincing the authorities here that you were an innocent +bystander in the whole affair. Do you think I would talk to you this way +if things were as you suspect they are with me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think, Matt."</p> + +<p>"Don't stop liking me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Take me back to the hotel, please. I'm all confused. I want to believe +you. Honestly I do. But what am I supposed to do? You give me the choice +of matching one line against the other, and all the time I'll be +wondering if both lines aren't fakes."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, baby ..."</p> + +<p>"Don't 'baby' me. You've got sand on your jacket. No, don't, Hall. Just +take me back to the hotel, please."</p> + +<p>They walked to the sea wall in silence. Hall made a step for Jerry with +his hands, boosted her to the top of the wall. "I'll try to find you a +cab," he said. "But before we turn in, I'm telling you again that I'm +not government. I'm exactly what I said I am. Believe me, Jerry. Please +believe me."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to believe any more."</p> + +<p>"But you do believe what I said about Ansaldo, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said, miserably. "Haven't you asked enough questions +for one night? Show me your badge and subpoena me or something to the +American Embassy and I'll tell you all I know. Which is nothing. I don't +know any more than I've already told you."</p> + +<p>Hall was flagging every passing car. "They're all private," he muttered. +"We'll never get a cab tonight. And for God's sake, stop sniffling. Even +if I am a G-man I won't bite you."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't have played me for a sucker, Hall."</p> + +<p>"I didn't play you for anything."</p> + +<p>"Don't say any more, Hall. Please don't."</p> + +<p>Her attitude infuriated him. Furiously, he flagged a passing car, biting +his lips in anger and frustration. He fought against yielding to his +anger. "Jerry," he said, "there's one thing I'll have to ask you to do. +I'm asking as a private citizen. But whatever you think I am, you'll +have to do this one thing. I must insist that you don't tell Ansaldo +anything about our conversation or about my having been in Spain."</p> + +<p>"Is that an order?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he roared. "Yes, damn you, it's an order!"</p> + +<p>One of the cars he had flagged slowed down, pulled over to where he +stood with Jerry. But it was not a taxi. It was a small chauffeur-driven +town car. The young Marques de Runa sat alone in the back seat.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," he smiled. "Can I give you and your young lady a lift? +You'll never be able to get a public car tonight."</p> + +<p>"Thanks." Hall took Jerry's elbow, pulled her toward the door. He made +the introductions, then climbed in after Jerry and shut the door. "We +were just going to the Bolivar," he said.</p> + +<p>"Were you trying to escape from the mobs?" the Marques asked.</p> + +<p>"No. The lady has a bad cold. We thought the sea air might do it some +good."</p> + +<p>"You should try the mountain air," the Marques said. "I always take to +the mountain air when I have a cold, Señor Hall. Don't you think the +mountain air is better?"</p> + +<p>Hall let the question go unanswered. He was looking into the mirror over +the driver's seat, studying what he could see in the small glass of the +chauffeur's face.</p> + +<p>"The mountain air, Señor Hall."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Very dry. Perhaps the lady will try the mountain air. What do +you think, Jerry?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," she said, sharply. "I have hallucinations on mountain +tops."</p> + +<p>The Marques thought this was very funny. But not too unusual, he +hastened to add. "For example," he said, "once when I was on a skiing +week-end in Austria, three members of our party saw an apparition." He +chattered amiably about the experiences on that and other skiing trips, +directing his words solely to Jerry. Hall ignored them both. He was +still staring at the mirror, and, after catching the chauffeur's eyes +for the second time, he knew definitely that the man at the wheel was +the little dog who had trailed him to the Ritz and then driven off after +Ansaldo's limousine with Androtten as his passenger.</p> + +<p>It was only when the car was less than a block from the Bolivar that +Hall spoke again. "It's too bad," he said, his eyes trying to focus both +on the mirror and on de Runa, "it's too bad about the Phoenix Garage +blowing up today."</p> + +<p>The chauffeur and the Marques started.</p> + +<p>"But—why?" the Marques asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. It's just that an officer in the British Embassy was +telling me just the other day that the Phoenix Garage was one of the +most fascinating establishments in San Hermano. I was planning to visit +the garage myself tomorrow. I'm interested in garages, you know."</p> + +<p>The chauffeur stopped the car in front of the Bolivar with an abrupt +slamming of his brakes.</p> + +<p>Hall laughed. "Your chauffeur was daydreaming, I think."</p> + +<p>The Marques laughed, or tried to laugh, as if Hall had just made one of +the funniest remarks ever heard in San Hermano. "That's what he is," the +Marques laughed, "a man who dreams by day. Very good, Señor Hall. +Excellent."</p> + +<p>Hall got out of the car, helped Jerry to the street. "Thank you again +for picking us up," he said. "And do something about your driver before +he starts driving into people in his sleep."</p> + +<p>The car was in gear and on its way down the street before the Marques +could make his answer heard.</p> + +<p>"What was so funny about your crack?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you tomorrow. Are we still friends?"</p> + +<p>"Stop it, Matt. Just leave me alone tonight."</p> + +<p>"Sure," he smiled. "Sleep on it. But please to keep the mouth shut, +yes?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to my room, Matt."</p> + +<p>"May I phone you in the morning?"</p> + +<p>Jerry ran into the hotel without answering. Hall stood in the street for +a moment, watching the receding crowds in the Plaza. They started to +become a blur in his heavy eyes. He entered the lobby. Souza was going +over a bill with two guests. Hall nodded to the night clerk, then went +into the small bar of the Bolivar to have a drink while Souza got rid of +the strangers.</p> + +<p>Only one of the four tables in the bar room was occupied. Androtten and +a San Hermano coffee dealer sat at this table, three open copper +canisters between them. The Hollander was driving a hard bargain for two +types of Monte Azul bean.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hall," he smiled, "delighted to see you healthy again. Delighted as +hell."</p> + +<p>"Healthy again?"</p> + +<p>"Damn rumors have been spread about the hotel that you were ill, Mr. +Hall. Not seriously as hell, I hope? Why don't you join us? Mr. +Rendueles has been trying to make a deal with me on some fairly choice +bean."</p> + +<p>Hall downed his double Scotch. "No, thanks. I'd better get some sleep."</p> + +<p>"Yes. You look sleepy, Mr. Hall. I wonder if we'll ever find time +for—you know—my damn story. Eh?"</p> + +<p>"One of these days," Hall said. "We'll get the complete story, +Androtten. All the facts, in complete detail. Good night." He paid for +his drink and went to the desk in the lobby.</p> + +<p>"Your key," Souza said. "I have it right here."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. What's new?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, señor. Nothing at all." Souza was being profoundly +impersonal. "I hope you are feeling better, señor. Oh, yes, message in +your box."</p> + +<p>The message was from Souza himself, and the ink was not yet dry. "I +can't speak now," it read.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Good night." Hall put the message in his pocket and went to +his room.</p> + +<p>He flung himself across the bed, yielding to the fatigue that was +tearing at every nerve and muscle in his body. In the dark, he managed +to get rid of his shoes and his suit, letting them drop to the floor +when he had taken them off. He tried to think of all that had happened +that day, of what he would have to do tomorrow. The fading shouts of the +crowds in the Plaza grew fainter. The bed grew softer. He fell asleep.</p> + +<p>The phone bell woke him in a few minutes. Souza was calling. "Señor +Hall, the drinks you ordered are on the way upstairs," he said. "I am +sorry for the delay, but we have a new waiter, and he is not accustomed +to our system yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I get it." The <i>cabrón</i> of a night waiter was gone. The invisible, +detested <i>cabrón</i> whom Hall had never seen. He half expected Miguelito +or Juan Antonio to be standing in the hall when he heard the knock on +the door. Instead, there was a short, swarthy man in his forties, +balancing a tray of brandy and soda in his right hand, a professional +waiter down to his flat feet and his bland smile.</p> + +<p>"Shall I bring it in, señor?"</p> + +<p>"Please. Set it down here, on the little table."</p> + +<p>The waiter closed the door, put the tray down. "<i>Compañero</i> Hall," he +said, the bland smile gone, "permit me to introduce myself. I am Emilio +Vicente, delegate of the Waiters' Union." He shook Hall's hand, then +gave him a calling card. It was Major Segador's private card.</p> + +<p>"Turn it over, <i>Compañero</i> Hall."</p> + +<p>The short message on the reverse side indicated that Hall was to trust +Vicente.</p> + +<p>"I am happy to know you," Hall said. "Will you have a drink with me?"</p> + +<p>"Some other time, <i>compañero</i>. Tonight I have a message. Major Segador +suggests that should you need any assistance in a hurry, you can call +upon me. I am at your orders."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>Emilio Vicente picked up his tray. "<i>Compañero</i>," he said, "it might +seem a little dangerous, but the Major assured us that you do not lack +for <i>cojones</i>."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Good night, <i>Compañero</i> Hall. You look as if you could use some sleep."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_twelve" id="Chapter_twelve"></a><i>Chapter twelve</i></h2> + + +<p>Hall slept through the morning. He rose at noon, staggered into a cold +tub, and then ordered a breakfast of steak and eggs. Vicente wheeled the +table into the room.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking of the major's offer," Hall said. "There's +something you can do for me. Do you know anything about the Marques de +Runa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's a Falangist. His family owns one of the biggest import and +export companies in the country. The young one works there, too."</p> + +<p>"What is he up to now?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we can find out."</p> + +<p>"Good. Do you know anything about his chauffeur?"</p> + +<p>"No. But we can find out."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if I ask Pepe Delgado to check up too?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all, <i>compañero</i>. He is very reliable."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>San Hermano had settled back to her old routines when Hall left his +room. The trolleys ran, cars moved along all the streets, the loud +speakers on the poles and buildings had been taken down, and street +sweepers were groaning over the litter of signs and papers they +themselves had helped scatter over the whole city the day before. +Yesterday's crowds had gone back to their jobs, their homes, their own +quarters.</p> + +<p>The papers had little news about Tabio's condition. They carried his +speech and, in most cases, described the events which had followed +Tabio's speech as a spontaneous demonstration on the part of the people. +<i>El Imparcial</i> merely said that a great crowd had heard the speech over +the public amplifiers and that Red hoodlums had severely beaten some +anti-communists who had joined the crowd in the Plaza to listen to the +address of the President.</p> + +<p>Hall scanned the papers at a café table in Old San Hermano while Pepe +went to telephone some friends who were doing some further checking on +the Marques de Runa. The information Pepe received over the telephone +was very brief. At six o'clock that morning, the Marques de Runa and his +chauffeur had taken a plane for Natal from the San Hermano airport.</p> + +<p>"Wait for me in the car." Hall went to a phone himself, called Margaret +Skidmore.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Pirate," she said. "Getting lonesome for the farm?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. How about you?"</p> + +<p>"I can't get away this week," she said. "How about the week-end?"</p> + +<p>"I'll have to let you know tomorrow. Tell me, Margaret, how well do you +know the Marques de Runa?"</p> + +<p>"Very well. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing much. I left my notebook in his car last night, I think."</p> + +<p>"I know. He told me."</p> + +<p>"About the notebook?"</p> + +<p>"No. About your red-headed girl friend. She sounds like a good +substitute for farming."</p> + +<p>"Cut it out," Hall laughed.</p> + +<p>"Is she the gal you were dreaming about at the wrong time one day last +week?"</p> + +<p>"No. But about my notebook. It's not too important, but I had some +interesting things in it, Margaret. I was wondering how to reach the +Marques."</p> + +<p>"It would be impossible today," she said. "He just left for Barcelona on +a business trip."</p> + +<p>"Is he a good friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Freddie? He's my fiancé."</p> + +<p>"You're kidding!"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm to be the Marquesa de Runa. Didn't you know?"</p> + +<p>"Does anyone else know it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "He does. Now don't start cross-examining me about +that! It's my affair."</p> + +<p>"I won't. You always know what you're doing."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I feel like doing some plowing over the week-end. With you. +Let's talk about it then, if it still interests you. And in the +meanwhile, I'll have someone look through the car for your notebook."</p> + +<p>"Thanks a lot."</p> + +<p>Hall went to the car. "Let's go back to the hotel," he said, "and find +Souza. Or is the day clerk reliable?"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," Pepe said. "Arturo can be trusted. That's why Souza got +him the job."</p> + +<p>"We have a lot to do, Pepe. I want to search the room of the Dutchman, +Androtten. We'll need all the help we can get."</p> + +<p>They found the task very simple. Androtten had left that morning with a +small handbag on what he described to the clerk as a two-day buying trip +in the south. With the day clerk standing guard at the phone and Vicente +lounging in the hall to sound any needed alarm, Hall and Pepe entered +the Dutchman's room with a pass key and drew the blinds.</p> + +<p>There was a picture of Androtten and what was evidently his family in a +portable leather frame on the bureau. It showed Androtten and a fat +blond matron sitting at a table, with a youth in his teens at +Androtten's left and a little girl leaning at the woman's knee. "He's a +family man," Pepe said.</p> + +<p>"We'll see." Hall went through the wastebasket, the clothes hanging in +the closet, every drawer in the bureau. He examined every piece of +luggage for false sides and bottoms, hidden compartments, and stray +papers. In the traveling bag he found in the closet, Hall discovered a +heavy brown envelope. Inside was the picture of a young colonial +Netherlands officer and a letter from the Dutch Government-in-Exile. The +letter regretted to inform Androtten that his esteemed son, Lieutenant +Wilhelm Androtten II, had perished fighting the Nazi invaders in the +battle for the Lowlands, and had been posthumously awarded the second +highest decoration the Queen gave such heroes. Hall had to guess at the +contents of the letter, using his German as a basis for deciphering the +Dutch.</p> + +<p>"Does this look like that boy grown up?" he asked Pepe.</p> + +<p>"I think so, Mateo. What does the letter say?"</p> + +<p>Hall gave him the gist of the letter as he understood it. "But I still +think he's a fraud, Pepe. Let's examine the labels on his clothes +again."</p> + +<p>The labels revealed only what Androtten had already indicated. London, +Amsterdam, New Orleans, Rio. He had purchased no clothes in San Hermano.</p> + +<p>"Let's get out of here, Pepe."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going now?"</p> + +<p>"I've got to write a letter in my room. But wait for me. I think we're +going to visit Duarte when I've got the letter finished."</p> + +<p>His own room, he soon discovered, had also been searched that day. The +lock on his traveling bag had been picked, and the stethoscope was +missing. He flung the new straw hat in the closet and went to the lobby. +Pepe was talking to the day clerk. He grinned at Hall, asked, "So soon?"</p> + +<p>"I changed my mind." Then, to the clerk, "Where is Miss Olmstead? At the +University laboratory?"</p> + +<p>"No, señor. She went to the country with the two doctors."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where exactly?"</p> + +<p>"No. Only that she went to the country. They will not be back tonight. +They left an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Come on, Pepe. We have to get started."</p> + +<p>They sat down in the car. "First stop the Mexican Embassy," Hall said. +"But wait there for me. I won't be too long."</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"My room was searched. The stethoscope is missing."</p> + +<p>"That means trouble, Mateo."</p> + +<p>"Sure. It also means that someone was careless. Where the hell were +Arturo and Vicente?"</p> + +<p>"It's a big hotel, Mateo. We were talking about it only this morning. +Duarte wants you to stay with him in his house for the night."</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it?"</p> + +<p>"Duarte is right."</p> + +<p>"But I have a good gun, Pepe. And good friends."</p> + +<p>"I know that, Mateo. But stay with Duarte tonight. I think that tonight +someone else should sleep in your bed. Duarte suggested three pillows or +a log. Then, in the morning, if there are no bullet holes in the +pillows ..."</p> + +<p>"Or the log ..."</p> + +<p>"... or the log, then you can say it was a mistake to sleep at Duarte's +house tonight. Someone followed me this morning, Mateo. I drove him +crazy, but I couldn't get a look at him myself. It was very funny. But +it is also serious."</p> + +<p>Hall put the gun back in his pocket. "Maybe it is," he said. "I'll stay +with Duarte."</p> + +<p>"It is the right thing to do, Mateo. I'll leave you with Duarte. I have +to see Souza and some other friends tonight."</p> + +<p>Pepe waited at the curb until Hall was admitted to the Mexican Embassy. +Then, his eyes sweeping the streets for signs of anyone shadowing him on +foot or by automobile, he took the most roundabout route he could devise +to reach the Transport Workers' Union headquarters.</p> + +<p>Duarte had had no word from General Mogrado. "I'm sure he met the +courier," he told Hall. "But I'm worried by his silence. It is not like +him."</p> + +<p>"Give him another night, Felipe. In the meanwhile, I'll send another +letter to Havana. I just can't believe that the evidence on Ansaldo is +not available on this side of the ocean. If it's nowhere else, it must +be in Havana."</p> + +<p>"Why are you so sure?"</p> + +<p>"Because I know Havana. I know what the Spanish Republicans and the +secret police must have there. I tell you, Felipe, we can hang Ansaldo +in Havana. Do you remember where and how I first saw Ansaldo in Burgos? +Well, there was a photographer standing and working in front of me for +hours that day. I know who he was, Felipe. He was the man from <i>Arriba</i>. +I don't doubt but that either the Spaniards or the Cubans have a +complete file of <i>Arriba</i> in Havana. And I'm willing to bet my bottom +dollar that I'll find those pictures of Ansaldo in that file."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Mateo. But I hope you don't have to go. Are you very tired?"</p> + +<p>"I could stand an hour's sleep before dinner."</p> + +<p>"We'll go to the house. Dr. Gonzales might join us for dinner. And +Lavandero is going to try to join us after dinner."</p> + +<p>They went to Duarte's house in one of the Embassy's cars. Hall stretched +out on the couch under the mural of Madrid and fell asleep in a few +minutes. It was some while before he was rested enough to dream, and +then the figures in the mural above the couch began to move through his +sleep in a macabre procession.</p> + +<p>Duarte woke him in an hour. "Twice you yelled in your sleep," he said. +"And then you started to twist like a chained snake. Bad dreams, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so," Hall said, his fingers working the muscles at the back of +his neck. "I always dream about the bombardments when I feel bad."</p> + +<p>"Gonzales and Lavandero can't meet us tonight. They're both at the +Presidencia. I think Tabio is getting weaker."</p> + +<p>"Is that what they told you?"</p> + +<p>"No. They just said they couldn't meet us."</p> + +<p>"Too bad. What have you got cooking?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, <i>amigo</i>. I hired a new cook and she won't allow me to put +my face in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>"She must be a smart cook."</p> + +<p>"We'll find out in a few minutes. I forgot to tell you, but Gonzales had +some news for us tonight. He says that Gamburdo is planning to delay the +actual start of Congress for another week. His game is to allow the +present high feelings of the people to cool down a bit before the +Congress starts its business."</p> + +<p>Hall was puzzled. "I don't quite understand the maneuver," he said.</p> + +<p>"The Congress has to choose a delegation for the Inter-American parley, +and to compose its mandate. Gamburdo still wants a delegation committed +to neutrality."</p> + +<p>"Can he get away with it?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? He was a long way toward success when Don Anibal stopped +him. The real question is how long can Don Anibal be counted on to get +out of bed and fight for an anti-fascist war policy?"</p> + +<p>A soft rain had started to fall while Hall was sleeping. It splashed +gently against the open shutters of the cottage, embracing the house, +the palms and the papaya trees on the grounds, its soft rhythms throwing +Hall into a small boy's melancholy. He talked little during dinner, and +when he did, it was to subject Duarte to his reminiscences of rainy days +when he was very young.</p> + +<p>They swapped yarns for hours, listened to Duarte's endless collection of +Mexican and flamenco records, and killed a bottle of black rum.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to sleep until noon," Hall said when they quit for the night.</p> + +<p>But his sleep was cut short very early in the morning by Pepe, who +arrived with the news that Jerry had returned from the country late at +night and was trying desperately to contact Hall.</p> + +<p>He phoned her at once.</p> + +<p>"Matt," she said, "can you come over right away? I think that I owe you +an apology."</p> + +<p>Jerry was waiting for him in her room. She had not had any sleep for a +full night, and her eyes showed it. Hall noticed that the two ash trays +in the room were filled to the rims with fresh cigarette stumps.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm out of cigarettes. Have you got any?"</p> + +<p>"Only Cubans. They're very strong."</p> + +<p>She accepted one, choked a bit on the first puff, then continued +smoking.</p> + +<p>"Give," he said. "What happened?"</p> + +<p>"You were right, I think. I can't swear to it, but I'm sure I recognized +his voice. The little Dutchman, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Androtten?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "He was at the ranch. I'm certain of it."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, baby. Sit down. Relax. Now start from the beginning. +What ranch?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought you knew. I went to Gamburdo's brother's ranch with +Ansaldo and Marina. Doctor was ripping mad. There was entirely too much +interference in the Tabio case, he said, and he'd called for a showdown. +He said he was going to stay on the ranch for a few days, or at least +until the politicians who were interfering with him would come to their +senses. He said we'd all just take a holiday until we could go back to +work."</p> + +<p>"Who else was at the ranch?"</p> + +<p>"Gamburdo's brother, two men I've never seen before, and our hostess."</p> + +<p>"Were you introduced to the two men?"</p> + +<p>"No, that's just it. They were not there when we arrived. They came on +horseback after we'd been there for some hours. Señora Gamburdo said +they were merely neighbors who wanted to talk over a cattle deal with +her husband."</p> + +<p>"And what makes you think she was lying?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say, exactly, Matt. I didn't like the way she explained them to +me—it was as if she felt that I insisted upon an explanation. That was +when I decided to tell Ansaldo that I wanted to come back to town this +morning. I told him there was some shopping I'd neglected. He didn't +seem to object at the time."</p> + +<p>"When did Androtten arrive?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I told you—I didn't see him. I just heard his voice. It +was about five in the afternoon, I'd say. I was taking a dip in the +pool—alone. There was a puppy playing around the pool. He found one of +my red beach shoes and started to chew on it. Then he took the shoe in +his mouth and carried it over to the side of the house and left it near +a hedge.</p> + +<p>"It was when I went for the shoe that I heard Androtten. Some sort of a +conference was going on in the room above the spot where the pooch had +dropped my shoe. I recognized the voices of Ansaldo and Marina and the +two others. But most of the talking was being done by a new voice. I +thought I recognized it. Then he stopped speaking Spanish and switched +to German. I'm sure it was German."</p> + +<p>"What was he saying?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't make it out. But he was very angry."</p> + +<p>"And it was Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"Definitely."</p> + +<p>"Could you see into the room?"</p> + +<p>"No. I didn't try, anyway. I was afraid. I just picked up my shoe and +beat it."</p> + +<p>Hall hesitated. He gave Jerry a fresh cigarette, lit it for her. "Could +they have seen you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "But that's not the end of it," she said. "After +dinner, Ansaldo took me for a walk in the garden. He made a lot of small +talk about different cases. Then he asked me why I insisted upon +returning to town. I told him again that I wanted to buy some things to +take home for friends. He was very pleasant about it. He asked me, +half-seriously, if the real reason I wanted to go back was because I had +a date with you. He was acting the part of a jealous lover when he said +it."</p> + +<p>"Acting?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he was only acting. Because when he said that I just laughed +and said, 'Good heavens, no, doctor! The last time I saw Hall he said he +was going to make a small fortune writing the story of that little +Dutchman's experience with the Japs, and my guess is that he'll be +spending the next few days locked up in his room with the Dutchman.'</p> + +<p>"Ansaldo stopped dead in his tracks when I said that, Matt. He asked me +which Dutchman I mean—but only after he had caught his breath."</p> + +<p>"What did he say when you told him you meant Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much. He made a joke—a bad one—about Flying Dutchmen. And +then he continued talking about medical cases."</p> + +<p>"And that was the last you saw of him?"</p> + +<p>"Just about. My train left at five-thirty this morning. He was asleep +when I left."</p> + +<p>"Who drove you to the station?"</p> + +<p>"Marina and a ranch hand. Marina was glad to see me go. He hates to see +me around Ansaldo."</p> + +<p>"Why? Is Ansaldo also a fairy?"</p> + +<p>"God, no!" Jerry laughed. "He's anything but."</p> + +<p>"You're exhausted. Let me get you some breakfast," he said. "And then, +when you catch your second wind, maybe you'll remember some other +details."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I've told you everything, Matt."</p> + +<p>He picked up the phone, asked for Vicente. "Ham and eggs?" he asked +Jerry.</p> + +<p>"No. Just coffee and toast."</p> + +<p>Hall gave Vicente the order. "And one other thing," he told the waiter. +"The woman is in trouble. Some one will have to keep an eye on her +today. And let me know when the fat little foreigner on this floor +returns to town. He is a dangerous enemy."</p> + +<p>"All those words for coffee and toast?" Jerry asked. "I've learned a few +words, Matt. I know that <i>mujer</i> is woman."</p> + +<p>"Good for you. I was asking him about his wife. She's been ill."</p> + +<p>"Oh." Jerry relaxed in her chair. "Tell me, Matt. What was it all about +at the ranch? There was something wrong there. I know. Why should +Ansaldo have wanted me around? And who is Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"That's a big order, baby. There's only one thing I definitely know +about it. I know that Ansaldo is a hot shot in the Falange. I know that +two Falange agents arrived in San Hermano on board a Spanish ship the +other day, and that they were traced to the ranch. But I can only guess +that the two neighboring <i>estancieros</i> you saw were these two visiting +Falange agents."</p> + +<p>"And Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"Again I'm guessing. I know that a Nazi general named Wilhelm von Faupel +is the man who actually runs the Falange. I know something about the way +the Nazis work. O.K. So I assume that Androtten—if it really was +Androtten whose voice you heard—is a Gestapo agent. That would make +sense. Hitler orders Tabio's death; the job is handed to Hitler's +Falange, and a Gestapo officer tags along to run the show in San Hermano +as his comrades run it in Spain. It would all make sense if we could +prove that the two visiting <i>estancieros</i> were the Falange agents off +the <i>Marques de Avillar</i>, and that Androtten was the man you heard."</p> + +<p>"Then why should they have wanted me around?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>There was a gentle rap on the door. "Time out for coffee," Hall smiled. +"<i>Entrada!</i>"</p> + +<p>The door was unlocked. The handle turned, and Wilhelm Androtten entered. +He took off his small Panama hat, fanned his red, puffy face with it. +"Ah," he sighed, "they told me at the desk that I would find you here, +Mr. Hall. Hot as hell, isn't it?" He put a large coffee canister on the +arm of a chair. "May I sit down?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course." Hall glanced at Jerry, whose fingers were clenched tightly +on a large amber comb. "What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>Androtten put the canister on his lap. "Oh, my dear Mr. Hall," he +sighed, his pudgy right hand resting on the lid of his tin. "I just +wanted to tell you that I am leaving for Rio on an extended buying trip +tomorrow. If you still are interested in my damn story, perhaps you +could spare me some time this afternoon, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I think it could be managed," Hall smiled. "Did you buy all the damn +Monte Azul bean you wanted, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Oh, yes indeed, Mr. Hall. Fine, rich, full-bodied bean, +fragrant as hell. Please, I'll show you." Androtten opened the canister. +There was no coffee under the lid. Instead, there was a small automatic +pistol, equipped with a gleaming silencer.</p> + +<p>"Please," Androtten sighed, "no noise, please. I should hate to be +forced to shoot you both."</p> + +<p>Jerry stifled a muted cry. "You wouldn't dare," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"You are a fool, Hall. I hope you have already noticed that my gun is +equipped with the only silencer in this jungle of Indians and +blackamoors."</p> + +<p>"The Gestapo—you Nazis think of everything, don't you?" Hall said in a +rising voice.</p> + +<p>"I must remind you again not to shout, Hall. Please, lock your hands on +top of your head."</p> + +<p>Hall obeyed the order.</p> + +<p>"If the nurse co-operates, she will be spared."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Jerry, do anything the Nazi orders," Hall cried. "He +has a gun!"</p> + +<p>The little man with the gun angrily raised a finger to his lips. "Not +one word out of you," he whispered. He got out of the chair, started +backing toward the door. "Now," he said, "listen carefully, both of you. +For your information, Hall, I am not Gestapo. I am from the +Ibero-American Institute in Berlin. And that, I am afraid, is the last +information you will ever receive about anything, Hall."</p> + +<p>The comb in Jerry's hand snapped with a dry little crack. The sudden +noise startled Androtten. He raised the gun and fired just as Hall dove +for his feet. Three times the cough of a silenced gun sounded in the +room. The shots seemed to come all together. A split second after the +third shot was fired Hall had kicked the gun from the limp hand of the +Nazi and was sitting astride his chest with his hands locked on +Androtten's throat. He was oblivious to the noise at the balcony, to +Jerry, to everything but the man dying under him.</p> + +<p>A gentle hand tugged at Hall's shoulder. "Enough, Mateo. The <i>cabrón</i> is +dead."</p> + +<p>Emilio Vicente had climbed into the room from the balcony. He had a +pistol in his hand. "The woman," he said. "She has fainted."</p> + +<p>Jerry was lying in a heap on the floor near her chair. "Christ, she was +hit!" Hall rushed to her side, examined her for bullet wounds.</p> + +<p>"No, Mateo. His bullet sailed over my head. My bullets both hit him. I +aimed for the heart. See, you are covered with his blood, no?"</p> + +<p>"Water." Hall was sitting on the floor, Jerry's head in his lap, a hand +clasped firmly over her mouth. He dipped a handkerchief into the glass +Vicente gave him, ran it over her face. "Jerry," he whispered, "promise +me you won't yell if I take my hand away? Everything is all right. His +shot missed us both, and now he's under control."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I'm sorry I passed out," she said.</p> + +<p>"You're O.K. now."</p> + +<p>Vicente, standing over them, grinned at the girl. "<i>Sí</i>, you +<i>magnífica</i>," he said. "You make boom noise of comb. She"—he pointed to +Androtten, who lay under a blanket Vicente had found while Hall was +reviving Jerry—"she have much scare of boom, she shoot much badly. Me, +Emilio, shoot much good. She no good no more."</p> + +<p>"Is he dead? <i>Muerto?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Much dead." Vicente showed them his pistol. He pointed to his own +silencer. "I heard the son of a whore mother," he said to Hall, a +sardonic smile on his grim face. "When he gets to hell he will learn +that there were other silencers in this jungle."</p> + +<p>"You heard everything?"</p> + +<p>"But naturally, <i>compañero</i>. I followed him to the door and listened. +When you shouted to the woman that the Nazi had a gun, I knew you were +shouting for me. I have a gun, too. And a pass key. So I rushed into the +next room and climbed over to the balcony. It was not difficult."</p> + +<p>"You were very good. You saved our lives."</p> + +<p>"It is nothing."</p> + +<p>"I can get up, Matt," Jerry said. "I'd rather sit in the chair."</p> + +<p>Hall helped her to the chair, told her what Vicente had done. Vicente +laughed at Hall's account of his heroism. "It was nothing," he repeated. +"The Nazi was too fat to miss."</p> + +<p>"He's very messy," Hall said, looking at the blanket.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with the body?" Hall asked Vicente.</p> + +<p>"Feed it to the sharks."</p> + +<p>"Better fingerprint him and make photos of the face, first," Hall +advised. "And let Segador know immediately."</p> + +<p>"Be tranquil, <i>compañero</i>. All in good time. When you and the woman +leave, Pepe and I shall put the remains of this dog in a laundry basket +and get it out of here." Vicente looked at Jerry. "And I think you had +better get her out of this room. She is going to get sick if she stays +here."</p> + +<p>"You're right." Hall gave Jerry his hand. "Come on, nurse," he smiled. +"We're going to my room. This is no place for a lady." He helped her to +her feet.</p> + +<p>She held her hand out to Vicente. "You are very sweet," she said. +"<i>Usted mucho dulce.</i> Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Understand," he laughed. He kissed her hand.</p> + +<p>Hall had a bottle of brandy in his room. He poured two stiff drinks for +Jerry and himself. "Feel any better?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It was awful for a few minutes. I was afraid he would kill you."</p> + +<p>"So was I, baby. I was afraid he'd kill me before I ever got around to +telling you how I felt. About you, I mean."</p> + +<p>"How do you feel about me?"</p> + +<p>He filled the glasses again. "Still think I'm a cop?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I guess you aren't, though."</p> + +<p>"Right."</p> + +<p>"I'd have died if he killed you. I love you, Matt."</p> + +<p>She was sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood over her, took the +glass from her hand. "You know how I feel, then," he smiled.</p> + +<p>"Darling," she said, raising her face, "didn't you think that I knew?"</p> + +<p>"Wait," he laughed. "I'm filthy with his blood. I'd better change my +clothes."</p> + +<p>He found a fresh suit and a clean shirt in his closet. "I'll change in +there," he said.</p> + +<p>"Darling," she said, while he was changing, "I still can't figure out +why Ansaldo wanted me at the ranch."</p> + +<p>"I think I can, baby. It's not so hard. Figure it out for yourself. The +beautiful American nurse is a complete political innocent. Sees all, +knows nothing. A perfect set-up. The Falangist doctors take you along to +San Hermano. You sit in the sickroom while Ansaldo examines Tabio. You +yourself work on the smears and the slides in the laboratory. You are +the clean, unbiased witness who can testify that scientifically all was +on the up and up. Your existence is proof that Ansaldo's visit was +legitimate. If anything was shady, he'd bring a Falangist nurse."</p> + +<p>"But why was I brought to the ranch?"</p> + +<p>"Same reasoning. Lavandero blocks Ansaldo's plans. Meanwhile, the +Falange sends two agents from Spain with the latest orders for Ansaldo. +He has to sneak out of town to confer with them. So does Androtten, the +Nazi boss of the expedition. Again Ansaldo takes the unbiased, +non-political nurse along. She is still the witness. She sees nothing +wrong at the ranch, and, after Ansaldo puts Tabio in the grave, if +anyone starts to suspect anything, they question the obviously innocent +American nurse and she backs Ansaldo's story. She really hasn't seen a +thing."</p> + +<p>"That is," Jerry said, "until the dumb American nurse stood under the +wrong window and heard Joe Nazi himself."</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"Then you think they know that I heard Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say. But just to play safe, you're moving out of this hotel to +where they can't find you. And right away. Not that they're not +prepared. Remember, you didn't <i>see</i> Androtten. They know that much. By +now you can bet your bottom dollar that they have a coffee planter three +hundred miles from the Gamburdo ranch who will swear on a stack of +Bibles that Androtten was with him for the past three days, and a whole +slew of witnesses to back him up."</p> + +<p>"But won't it make them suspicious if I move?"</p> + +<p>"The hell with them, baby. It's you that counts now."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm staying. I won't spoil it for you by playing into their +hands."</p> + +<p>Hall took her in his arms. "You're wonderful," he said. "But ..."</p> + +<p>The phone began to ring. It was Dr. Gonzales. "Can you come over to the +Presidencia at once?" he asked. "Yes, very important. I am in Don +Anibal's apartment. Please, hurry."</p> + +<p>"I'll be right over."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"Come on. We're going to the Presidencia. It sounds like the end."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_thirteen" id="Chapter_thirteen"></a><i>Chapter thirteen</i></h2> + + +<p>The private elevator in the Presidencia was both carpeted and +bullet-proof, as it had been in General Segura's day. But the +magnificent bronze friezes of General Segura's capture of San Hermano +had long since been melted down to make medals, and in place of the +martial friezes there now hung a series of water colors painted by +grade-school children in the small villages. Every year, Hall explained +to Jerry as the car climbed to the fourth floor, a committee of the +Republic's leading artists chose twenty water colors submitted by the +schools for a place in this elevator. The students whose pictures were +chosen received medals made from the bronze frieze which had originally +hung in their places.</p> + +<p>Gonzales was waiting for them at the fourth-floor landing. "Are you all +right?" he asked Jerry, and without waiting for an answer he took Hall's +arm and started to walk down the long gilded corridor toward the private +library of the President.</p> + +<p>The library was large, perhaps forty feet square, the four walls were +lined with books from floor to ceiling. In one corner was an immense +mahogany writing table, clean now except for a drinking glass packed +with sharpened pencils and a large yellow foolscap pad. When Tabio was +well, this table was always piled high with books, most of them opened +and kept in place by an inkwell, a heavy watch, or another book. Today +there were no books on Don Anibal's table; instead, almost as if in +explanation, a padded steel and aluminum wheel chair stood empty near +the little corridor which led to the door of the President's bedroom.</p> + +<p>"Please, sit down." Gonzales indicated two leather chairs.</p> + +<p>"I'm in the way," Jerry said. "I don't belong here."</p> + +<p>"I had to take her along," Hall said. "It was a matter of her life. Is +there some place where she can rest while we—while we talk?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me. I will make the arrangement." Gonzales stepped out of the +room.</p> + +<p>"What's happening?" Jerry asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. It looks bad. Whatever it is, don't cave in on me now. It +won't do anyone any good."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right now. But I'll probably have nightmares about today for +the rest of my life."</p> + +<p>Gonzales returned to the library with a middle-aged maid in a simple +uniform. "Please, nurse," he said, "this lady will escort you to a quiet +apartment. You will find brandy and a bed. I hope you will forgive us +and find comfort." His blue lips tried to smile at Jerry as she followed +the maid out of the library.</p> + +<p>"You're not well," Hall said.</p> + +<p>The blue lips tightened. "I'm a cardiac, you know. But it is not of +importance. Simon Tabio will join us in a moment. It is very serious, +<i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"Don Anibal?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Simon will tell you about the new development. He is young, but he +is very strong. He knows that Gamburdo is a traitor."</p> + +<p>"Has he told Don Anibal?"</p> + +<p>"The mere telling might kill him. We must have the proof before we tell +him."</p> + +<p>"The proof?" Hall started to tell the ailing doctor about Androtten when +Simon Tabio entered the library.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Simon. This is <i>Compañero</i> Mateo Hall."</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" the boy said, in English. "I regret that we must meet +under such sad circumstances."</p> + +<p>"<i>El habla castellano, chico</i>," Gonzales said.</p> + +<p>"The sorrow weighs with equal weight in my own heart," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"<i>Compañero</i> Hall was on the point of telling me some important news +when you came in, Simon. I think you should hear it."</p> + +<p>"I would like to hear it," Simon said.</p> + +<p>"Do you know about Corbeta the Falange agent and Jimenez the C.T.E. +radio operator being at the Gamburdo ranch with Ansaldo?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Segador has kept me informed."</p> + +<p>"There was one other man at the ranch with them, a Nazi. An agent of the +Ibero-American Institute named Androtten. At least that was the name he +used. He reached San Hermano on the same plane which brought Ansaldo and +me." Hall told them of Jerry's accidental discovery and of the events +which followed and brought about the death of the Nazi. He told it in +very few words, his eyes taking in the uncanny resemblance between Simon +and his father.</p> + +<p>"My father is very ill, señor. We must be able to prove your story for +him."</p> + +<p>"He is my friend," Hall said. "He will believe me."</p> + +<p>"He is very ill. I believe you, of course. But what proof have we for my +father that Androtten was a Nazi agent? If you know my father at all +well, señor, you must surely know his passion for the truth. And we must +remember that in his illness ..." The boy's voice trailed off to +nothingness, and he turned away from his elders.</p> + +<p>"I think," Gonzales said, gently, "I think that you had better tell +<i>Compañero</i> Hall about what happened this morning."</p> + +<p>Simon Bolivar Tabio dabbed at his reddened eyes with a white +handkerchief. "They are killing him," he said, brokenly. He paused to +swallow the painful lump in his throat, ashamed before the friends of +his father for his weakness.</p> + +<p>"There are many tears in San Hermano for Don Anibal," Hall said. "You +should be proud of your own."</p> + +<p>"This morning," Simon said, "Dr. Marina arrived here with a written +message for my mother from Dr. Ansaldo. The surgeon refused to operate +without the written permission of the entire Cabinet. He says in the +note that he refuses to predict how long my father can live without an +operation. He says that the operation must be performed immediately."</p> + +<p>"It is murder," Gonzales said. "Every doctor in San Hermano who has +examined Don Anibal swears that he is too weak to undergo an operation +right now."</p> + +<p>"He sent a copy of the note to each member of the Cabinet," Simon said. +"They refuse to discuss the question without my father's permission."</p> + +<p>"The dirty bastard," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"We were discussing you this morning," Gonzales said. "Lavandero and +Simon and myself. We think that if we get no further actual proof, we +will have to place a great burden on your shoulders, <i>Compañero</i> Hall. +Don Anibal trusts you."</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to tell Don Anibal what I know?"</p> + +<p>"Not immediately. It would be too great a shock. Don Anibal would demand +proof even from you. But if he hears from you that you are here to +investigate the Falange and then if, say tomorrow, you come back +and tell him that you have run across some important information, +perhaps ..."</p> + +<p>"But have we time to break it to him in easy stages? Is +his—health—adequate?"</p> + +<p>"It is a chance we are forced to take," Simon said. "My father's health +is not—adequate—for a sudden shock."</p> + +<p>"You may be right. I have already notified Segador about Androtten. +Perhaps by tomorrow he will have established Androtten's real identity."</p> + +<p>"Then you will see my father now?"</p> + +<p>"I will do anything you ask, <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, then." Simon left the library.</p> + +<p>"Don Anibal is not going to live," Gonzales said when the boy left. "Not +even a miracle can save his life."</p> + +<p>The doctor was tearing the stopper from a small vial of adrenalin. He +held the open mouth of the vial to his nose and breathed deeply.</p> + +<p>"Adrenalin?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing, <i>compañero</i>. Say nothing to Simon, please." A corner of +his blue underlip was growing purple in tiny spots. "I hear him now, +Mateo."</p> + +<p>The boy carried his shoulders proudly when he returned to the library. +"My father is sitting up in bed," he said. "He is preparing a radio +speech to the entire Republic."</p> + +<p>Dr. Gonzales was incredulous. "Are you sure, <i>chico</i>?"</p> + +<p>Simon touched his right eye with his index finger. "I have seen it at +this moment. My father is a great and a brave man. He says that we +should bring <i>Compañero</i> Hall in at once."</p> + +<p>The door leading to Tabio's room was opened by an armed army sergeant. +"The President will see you now," he said.</p> + +<p>Hall followed Simon and Gonzales through the small corridor which took +them to the sick room. The shutters were opened, and the sun streamed +into the chamber, bathing everyone and everything in its gentle light. +Anibal Tabio was sitting up in bed, his hand raised in a familiar +gesture as he dictated to a secretary who sat on a stool near his +pillows.</p> + +<p>"Neutrality," he was dictating, "neutrality is either abject surrender +to Hitler or an open admission of complicity with the fascist Axis or a +sinful combination of both..."</p> + +<p>The swarthy Esteban Lavandero was, as always, at Tabio's side, his +fierce Moorish face twisted with pain and love. He stood behind the girl +secretary, one black hairy hand resting on the carved headboard of the +ancient bed, his ears cocked for every word which came from Tabio's pale +lips.</p> + +<p>Tabio's wife and two doctors in white coats stood on the other side of +the bed. The prim white collar of her dark dress matched the streaks of +white in her long black hair. Her luminous <i>mestiza's</i> eyes, swollen +from quiet weeping, were now bright and clear, and when Anibal Tabio +looked to his wife after turning a particularly telling phrase in his +speech her generous lips parted and she smiled at him the way she had +smiled to reward his earliest writings three decades ago.</p> + +<p>"The great North American martyr to freedom, Don Abraham Lincoln, a man +of great dignity whose humor was the humor of the people from whose +loins he sprang, was a man who many years ago described such neutrality. +Lincoln was not a neutral in the struggle between slavery and freedom. +And when some fool insisted that most Americans were neutral in this +struggle, Lincoln replied with the anecdote of the American woman who +went for a walk in the woods and found her husband fighting with a wild +bear. Being a neutral, this woman stood by and shouted, 'Bravo, Husband. +Bravo, Bear.'</p> + +<p>"And then, Lincoln said ..."</p> + +<p>"Don Anibal," one of the doctors said, gently, "I must implore you ..." +The restraining hand of Tabio's wife made him stop.</p> + +<p>"It is no use, doctor," Tabio smiled. "At a time like this, if a +President can speak at all, he must speak to his people. Tonight you +will type my speech, and tomorrow you can bring the microphone right +into this room, and right from my bed I shall talk to the people. If I +am to die in any event, it will not matter much. And if I am to live, +doctor, the speech will not kill me."</p> + +<p>Simon, who was standing next to Hall in the doorway, whispered that +Tabio's eyes were too weak to distinguish them at that distance. They +started to walk toward the bed on their toes, and Hall, glancing at +Tabio sitting up in the old bed in a white hospital gown surrounded by +the burly Lavandero and his wife and son, was suddenly struck by the +similarity of the scene which was before him and the Doré engraving of +the death of Don Quixote. It was all there, even to the faithful Sancho +Panza figure of Lavandero, and at that moment Hall knew why Spanish +savants had for hundreds of years written scores of books on the true +significance of Cervantes' classic. Here were the two great impulses of +the Hispanic world, the fragile, gentle, trusting dreamer of great new +horizons and at his side the broad-backed practical man of earth who +threw his strength into the effort of implementing the dreams and making +them the new realities. Here was the visionary Juarez and the young +soldier Porfirio Diaz, when the warrior was still a man untainted by his +own betrayal of a people's dream. Here was the romantic poet José Marti +and one of his durable guerrilla generals, Maximo Gomez or Antonio +Maceo, whose white and black skins, blended, would have yielded a skin +the color of Lavandero's. (Was it any wonder, then, Hall thought in +those fleeting seconds before Tabio recognized him, that Tabio as a +young exile went to Cuba to write a biography of Marti while his +faithful fellow-exile spent the same months in Havana writing an equally +good study of Maceo?)</p> + +<p>At that moment Tabio saw Hall. "<i>Viejo!</i>" he said, happily. "Mateo Hall, +a good friend and thank God never a neutral. Señorita, give him your +stool. Come, sit down, Mateo."</p> + +<p>Hall took his hand, tenderly, for fear of hurting him. It was a thin +hand, bony and fleshless; cold, as though Death had already touched it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Viejo</i>," Tabio said. He might have been genially scolding a favorite +child. "Say something, old friend, and don't sit there staring at me as +if I were already a corpse. Tell me about yourself, Mateo. We've come a +long way since Geneva and Madrid and the day they fished you out of the +ocean, eh?"</p> + +<p>"It has been a long time," Hall said. "A very long time, Don Anibal. A +century."</p> + +<p>Tabio smiled. "Time is of no matter. It is the present and the future +which counts, eh, <i>viejo</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, <i>ilustre</i>."</p> + +<p>"My family and my good friends are afraid that I am dying," Tabio said, +smiling as if at some secret joke he wanted to share with Hall. "I am an +old dog. An old prison dog. Tell them, <i>viejo</i>, tell them that our breed +doesn't die so easily, no?"</p> + +<p>Hall could only nod and pat the sick man's hand.</p> + +<p>"Do I sound like a dying man?"</p> + +<p>Hall swallowed hard, managed to grin. "You? What nonsense, Don Anibal! I +was at the Congress the other day. I watched you and listened to you +speak. It was a great speech, Anibal."</p> + +<p>"It was not a great speech. But it was good because I spoke the truth. +And do you know, Mateo, that the truth is better than any great speech?" +Tabio was breathing with increased difficulty. He slumped back against +the pillows, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the doctors +quicken, and he turned to them and winked. "Not yet," he smiled. Meekly, +he allowed one of the doctors to hold a tumbler of colored liquid under +his mouth. He sipped some of it through a bent glass tube, then turned +to Hall again.</p> + +<p>"Where were you sitting?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"In the diplomatic box with Duarte and the Mexican Ambassador. Don't try +to talk to me, Anibal. Save your strength. I'll be here for a long time, +and when you're out of bed and on your feet again, perhaps we can have a +real visit and sit up all night talking as we used to talk."</p> + +<p>"Mateo! You talk like a child. I will never be on my feet again. But +just the same," and he winked impishly at his wife, "I'm a long way from +dying."</p> + +<p>"Of course you are," Hall insisted.</p> + +<p>"There, you see?" Tabio said to everyone in the room. "Mateo can tell +you. He knows how tough our breed is. Tell me, Mateo, is it true that +the American Ambassador considers me to be the most violent Bolshevik +outside of Russia?"</p> + +<p>Lavandero laughed, and Hall laughed, and when Tabio, laughing, turned to +his wife and son, they laughed too.</p> + +<p>"He is such a pompous fool, that Ambassador. Oh, I am being terribly +undiplomatic, <i>viejo</i>, but to think of an old-fashioned bourgeois +reformer like me being compared to Lenin and Stalin! It is the height of +confusion. But if you ever meet him you can tell him that I admire +Stalin and the Russian people. Your Ambassador and I were together at a +State dinner the day the Nazis invaded Russia and he said that the +Soviets would be crushed in a month and that he was glad. I told him +then that the Red Army would destroy the Nazi war machine and I told him +that before the war was over the United States would be fighting on the +side of Russia and that therefore it was dangerous of him to say he was +glad so many Red Army soldiers were being killed. And you can tell him +that some day when I speak to Mr. Roosevelt again I will tell him what +the American Ambassador to our country said openly in June of 1941."</p> + +<p>"Please, Don Anibal," one of the doctors begged, "you must save your +strength."</p> + +<p>"For the speech," Lavandero added, quickly, motioning to Hall that it +was time for everyone but the doctors to leave the room.</p> + +<p>Hall stood up, again patted the blue-veined hand of the President. He +watched Tabio, pausing to gain strength, mutely protesting with glazed +eyes the obvious stage directions of the doctors who ended this visit.</p> + +<p>"I must go now, Don Anibal," Hall said, softly. "If you wish, I will be +back tomorrow or the next day."</p> + +<p>"Matthew," Tabio said, and he began to address Hall in English, "you +were in Spain. You saw. Tell them it does not matter if one man lives or +dies. I have no fears for truth. I have come a long way on truth. Tell +them, <i>viejo</i>, tell them what a miracle truth is in the hands of the +people. You have but"—the words were coming with great difficulty—"you +have but to make this truth known...."</p> + +<p>Tabio's jaw sagged open. He fell forward against his knees. The doctors +took him by the shoulders and moved him into a prone position. His eyes, +still open, stared at everything and nothing, glass now.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cariño mío!</i>" his wife sobbed, but at an unspoken order from one of +the doctors Simon led his mother to a chair in the corner and kept her +still. Lavandero, Gonzales and Hall left the chamber for the library.</p> + +<p>"What happened to Anibal?" Lavandero asked Gonzales.</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head. "It is the end," he said. "Don Anibal will +never speak again."</p> + +<p>"You lie!"</p> + +<p>"No, Esteban." He turned to Hall. "His last words were to you, +<i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>"Christ Almighty!"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, tell me what happened to Anibal!"</p> + +<p>"He fell into a coma. I think it is a stroke." Gonzales sat heavily in +one of the leather chairs, began to fumble in his pocket for another +adrenalin vial. His fingers began to become frantic in their impotence. +"I—I ..."</p> + +<p>Hall caught his head as he started to collapse. He reached into the +doctor's pocket, found the adrenalin and used it.</p> + +<p>"It is a stupid way to live," Gonzales said. "To have your life depend +always on your being a vegetable with a bottle. Thank you, <i>compañero</i>. +Just let me rest here for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>Throughout all of this, Lavandero stood over Tabio's table, staring down +at the jar of pencils with a dark, ugly face. He clenched opened +clenched opened clenched his fists, his fingers working to no definite +rhythm, and then he looked at his fists opening and closing and for a +few minutes it seemed as if he looked upon his own hands with loathing. +Then, straightening up, he put his hands in the pockets of his blue +jacket and turned to Hall and Gonzales. "This is no time to plan +personal violence," he said. "It would be exactly what the fascists +wanted."</p> + +<p>"I am at your orders," Hall said. "I think you know that."</p> + +<p>"I am counting on you."</p> + +<p>"What do I do now?"</p> + +<p>"Keep out of sight for a few hours. I think you should go to Gonzales' +house. I'll get you an official car and a chauffeur."</p> + +<p>"I'm not alone," Hall said. He told Lavandero about Jerry and the death +of Androtten.</p> + +<p>"<i>Madre de Dios</i>, take her with you! And keep her hidden." The sweat +pouring down his face betrayed Lavandero's excitement; his voice was +calm and steady. "I'll send an armed guard with you."</p> + +<p>"I'll get the nurse," Gonzales said.</p> + +<p>"No. Don't get up. Tell us where she is."</p> + +<p>Lavandero had taken over. Later, Hall knew, the man would allow himself +to fly into a wild rage, but he would do it alone, where no one could +hear or see him. And Hall knew, also, that soon Lavandero would be +engaged in a battle with Gamburdo and the fascists for control of the +nation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_fourteen" id="Chapter_fourteen"></a><i>Chapter fourteen</i></h2> + + +<p>The black Packard roared out of the subterranean garage of the +Presidencia, shot out to the Avenida de la Liberacion. Hall and Jerry, +in the back seat, looked behind them at the second Packard which carried +their convoy of guards. "They have enough tommy guns back there to blow +up anyone who makes a pass at us," he said. "And the two boys in the +front seat can throw plenty of lead."</p> + +<p>"It's like a gangster movie," Jerry said.</p> + +<p>"That shooting in your room this morning was no movie. I've never seen a +deader Nazi than the late Wilhelm Androtten, alias X."</p> + +<p>"What's going to happen to us now, Matt?"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry."</p> + +<p>"I am worried. I want to know."</p> + +<p>The two cars pulled up at the doctor's house. Maria Luisa, Gonzales' +fourteen-year-old daughter, met them at the door. "I am preparing some +sandwiches," she said. "Father said you were famished."</p> + +<p>They waited in the living room while the girl worked in the kitchen. +"You're too hot in San Hermano," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Not yet. They don't know what happened to Androtten. I can just go on +being Ansaldo's nurse until ..."</p> + +<p>"Forget it," he snapped. "This isn't for amateurs any longer. And you're +still an amateur, baby."</p> + +<p>"Then what do you suggest I do?"</p> + +<p>"You're going back to the States with a bodyguard on the next plane out +of here. You're waiting for me in Miami. I'll give you a letter to one +of the chiefs of Military Intelligence there. You'll be safe."</p> + +<p>"How about you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll meet you in two weeks. Three weeks at the outside."</p> + +<p>"I won't do it, Matt. I'm staying here with you."</p> + +<p>"But I won't be here all the time."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll wait here for you."</p> + +<p>"Baby, listen." He took out a package of American cigarettes, put one in +her mouth, lit it. "Ladies don't smoke in San Hermano. You can smoke +until you hear anyone coming. Then hand it to me. Now, sit down like a +good girl, and for God's sake, listen carefully. There's a job I've got +to do. It's my job alone. I've got to do it alone. I had an idea that +before I was through here I'd have to do it. But Tabio's last words were +spoken in English and they were to me, and baby, as soon as he stopped +talking I knew what I had to do."</p> + +<p>Hall quoted the President's words about the power of Truth. "And he was +right," he said. "I remember what happened when I got out of the can in +Spain. I went back to Paris to get some rest. Tabio was in Geneva, +packing his things to go home. I found out he was still there and I went +to see him before he left. He was going home to run for President so +that this country shouldn't become a second Spain.</p> + +<p>"I remember telling him that the thing which kept me alive in Franco's +prison was my feeling that a miracle would happen—that the little guys +in England and France would force the appeasers to sell guns to the +Republic, or that Russia would be able to fly some heavy bombers across +France for Madrid, or that Roosevelt would open his eyes and lift the +damned embargo, or anything. Any good miracle like these, even a tiny +one, would have saved the day. And I went to sleep every day sure that +each morning I'd wake up closer to the day this miracle would happen, +and that some morning I'd wake up and find that the people somewhere +outside of Spain had performed this miracle.</p> + +<p>"I remember the way Tabio listened to me speak, and how when I was done +he said that the miracle I wanted all that time was that the truth +should get to the people. It was that simple. And he was dead right. +It's exactly what he did in his own country, and you know how the people +love him for it."</p> + +<p>Jerry looked puzzled. "But what do you propose to do?"</p> + +<p>"Look," he said. "It's a matter of days at most before the whole nation +will be mourning Tabio. The Constitution says that within thirty days +after the President dies, there must be a general election. I have an +idea that the race will be between Gamburdo and someone like Lavandero. +Both will claim that they are Tabio's real choice as a successor. If I +can get to Havana, I can dig up the truth about Gamburdo and Ansaldo in +a matter of days. I'm sure of it. If it's anywhere at all, it's in +Havana. Gamburdo is taking public credit for trying to save Tabio's life +by bringing Ansaldo to San Hermano. The truth can make this boomerang in +his face."</p> + +<p>"Can't I help in any way?"</p> + +<p>Hall stopped short. "Do you know what you're asking? That scrape in the +hotel this morning was nothing compared to the things you're asking for +if you stay. Even if Gamburdo is licked, it's only the beginning."</p> + +<p>"But you're sticking it out, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I have to. I've been in it since Madrid. There's no escaping it for me. +I'll never know any peace until the crime of Spain is liquidated. +Fascism isn't just an ideological enemy for me, baby. It's a cancer +burning in my own, my very personal guts. I'd go off my conk if mine +weren't two of the billion fists that are smashing and will go on +smashing back at fascism until it's deader than Willie Androtten. I've +never stopped to think of what my chances are of being alive at the +finish. All I know is that if I stopped fighting it I'd die."</p> + +<p>"Let me stay," Jerry pleaded. "I'd be a liar if I said that's the way I +felt, too. But the war came to me this morning at the end of Androtten's +gun, darling. I can't escape it any more than you can now."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They had an early dinner with Gonzales and his daughter, avoiding all +serious discussion until Lavandero arrived. The Minister of Education +brought grim news: Anibal Tabio had suffered a second stroke and was +dying.</p> + +<p>"Where is Ansaldo?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"He is still on the ranch of Gamburdo's brother. He is waiting for an +answer to his ultimatum. Don Anibal's condition is still a secret."</p> + +<p>"But Esteban," Gonzales said, "we cannot keep it a secret. You will be +accused of murdering Don Anibal if Gamburdo finds out."</p> + +<p>"I know. I've asked Segador to come. I wanted to bring Simon Tabio, but +he refuses to leave the room while his father still breathes. What do +you think, <i>Compañero</i> Hall? What is the first thing we have to do? By +the way, does the señorita speak Spanish?"</p> + +<p>"No. I will tell her what she should know later."</p> + +<p>"Is she reliable?"</p> + +<p>"I hope to marry her—if I am alive in three weeks."</p> + +<p>Jerry looked at Hall's face and blushed. "I'll bet you just told him +about us," she said.</p> + +<p>"My felicitations," Lavandero said, in English. He gave her his hand. +"But with your permission, we must speak in Spanish."</p> + +<p>Hall told Lavandero and Gonzales his plan about Havana. "I was going to +do it in any event if Duarte didn't hear from his friends in Mexico."</p> + +<p>"But why Havana?"</p> + +<p>"Because Havana was the base headquarters in the Western Hemisphere for +all Falangist work. The boys in the Casa de la Cultura and on the staff +of <i>Ahora</i> worked with the Batista government to break it up. They +arrested the key leaders, but even though they had to let them go back +to Spain, they took their confidential files away from them."</p> + +<p>"And you think that Ansaldo will turn up in these files?"</p> + +<p>"It is something we must not overlook."</p> + +<p>"There is someone at the door," Gonzales said. "Wait." He slipped the +safety of the automatic in his pocket, and went to the door with his +hand on the gun.</p> + +<p>"Be tranquil," Gonzales announced. "It is Diego."</p> + +<p>The Major Diego Segador who walked into the room was quite a different +creature from the mournful-visaged officer in the neat uniform Hall had +met at the barracks. He wore a gray civilian suit, whose jacket was at +least four sizes too small for his broad frame, yellow box-toe shoes and +an incongruous striped silk shirt. The discolored flat straw hat he +carried in his tremendous square hands completed the picture which +immediately came to Hall's mind: a vision of Diego Segador as a tough +steel-worker on a holiday in Youngstown, Ohio, during the twenties.</p> + +<p>"You look," said Gonzales, "like a Gallego grocer on his way to High +Mass."</p> + +<p>"That's enough," Lavandero said sharply, "Don Anibal is dying."</p> + +<p>The blood rose to Segador's head. "No!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Diego."</p> + +<p>Gonzales opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of brandy. He shouted to +the kitchen for his daughter to bring glasses.</p> + +<p>"Major," Hall said, "this is Miss Olmstead."</p> + +<p>"Hello," Segador said, in English. "You have close shave, no?"</p> + +<p>All the men had brandy. Jerry merely looked at the bottle with great +longing.</p> + +<p>"Well then, Diego," Lavandero said, "minutes count now. Hall has a plan. +It is a good one." He described it for the Major. "If he comes back with +pictures of Ansaldo in the uniform of the Falange, we will have to flood +the country with them. They will not look nice next to the pictures of +Ansaldo embracing Gamburdo, no?"</p> + +<p>"They will look very nice—for us. But how is Hall going to get to +Havana?"</p> + +<p>"By plane. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Because you are a marked man, Hall."</p> + +<p>"Get me to the border, then. I'll get to Havana from across the border."</p> + +<p>"Not on your passport," Segador said. "It is too risky. Tomas, you have +a passport, no? Never mind. All right, then, Hall. You go on a passport +made out to Vicente, but with your picture on it. I'll drive you north +by car. You board a plane in San Martin Province—there's one that meets +the Clipper for Miami. The mining men use it. You travel to Havana as +one of our nationals, one Emilio Vicente. Then the officials of your own +government in San Juan won't ..." He stopped suddenly, filled his glass +with brandy, and drank it in one short gulp.</p> + +<p>"Out with it, Major," Hall said. "What are you hiding?"</p> + +<p>"Hiding?"</p> + +<p>"About me and my government?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. It's just that you are too well known as Matthew Hall. You are +known by face in San Juan. Perhaps, when you land there to refuel, +someone will recognize you. And then there will be trouble about your +Vicente passport. Perhaps—one cannot be too careful."</p> + +<p>Hall knew that the Major was concealing something from him, something +that had to do with himself. He thought of his low standing at the +American Embassy, and of some of the fascists in high places he had +offended in San Juan. "Yes," he said, "I think you are right." This, he +decided, was not the time to start new trouble.</p> + +<p>"No," Lavandero said, "it is no good. We shall need another passport for +<i>Compañero</i> Hall."</p> + +<p>"How can we get it?" Segador asked. "There is no time."</p> + +<p>"There is time," Lavandero said, evenly. "Duarte is preparing a passport +and papers for Hall. Diplomatic. He will travel as Victor Ortiz Tinoco, +official courier of the Mexican Government."</p> + +<p>"When did he start on the papers?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"A few hours ago. He thought you might want to make the trip."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me before this?"</p> + +<p>Lavandero's face softened. "My dear friend," he said, "what you are +undertaking is no minor task. The complications are enormous. If you are +caught, you face much legal trouble at the very least; death by +violence, if the fascists catch you first. You are under no obligations +to this Republic. I had to hear it from your lips first."</p> + +<p>"When can I start?"</p> + +<p>"In two hours. You will have to give me your passport, so that I may +have the picture copied for the Ortiz Tinoco papers. Segador's idea is +the right one. He will drive you to the San Martin airport tonight. The +Mexican Embassy is ordering the tickets. I will leave you with Gonzales +and Segador to work out the rest of the details."</p> + +<p>"Good. Here is my passport."</p> + +<p>"The Republic will always be grateful to you, <i>Compañero</i> Hall." +Lavandero stood up and started for the door. Hall accompanied him.</p> + +<p>"Well," Hall said, "I'll try to get back within the week—if I'm lucky." +He held out his hand to the Minister.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, <i>compañero</i>." Lavandero raised his arms to Hall's shoulders +and embraced him. "You were worthy of his trust."</p> + +<p>"And you of his love," Hall answered. He was sorry for Lavandero, sorry +for him as a friend, as a man, as a leader so intent on answering his +responsibilities to his moment in history that he had to allow his own +personal rages to simmer unattended within him until there again came a +time when a man could walk off alone and be his own master.</p> + +<p>"I will see you in a week, <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>Hall walked back to the living room. Segador was trying to convey to +Jerry his impressions of Atlantic City in 1919. "Womans <i>bonitas</i>," he +was shouting, "whisky bad. Much bad. I have young years, much money. +Well, well. So."</p> + +<p>"We'll listen to your memoirs when I get back," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"When we get back," Segador said.</p> + +<p>"You're coming with me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm meeting you on your way back. We'll meet in Caracas. Listen to me, +<i>compañero</i>. The chief of our Air Force is loyal. He will give me one of +our American bombers. From the San Martin airport, a bomber can make +Caracas in fifteen hours. Give me ten hours' notice, and I will meet you +in time. I already have a loyal flying crew standing by for my orders."</p> + +<p>"Where can we meet in Caracas?"</p> + +<p>"At the airport. I can meet your plane."</p> + +<p>"Won't you be followed?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. By three or four of my picked men. Don't worry about that."</p> + +<p>Gonzales interrupted to say that there would be time for them to have +dinner at the house before starting on the drive north.</p> + +<p>"Oh, while we're at it," Hall said, "I am going to ask you to be good +enough to keep my <i>novia</i> here until I return. That is, if Segador +thinks it is safe."</p> + +<p>"It is safe," the Major grunted. "We will make it safe."</p> + +<p>"Then it is the privilege of my daughter and myself to make this house +the señorita's for a century." Gonzales called his daughter in from the +kitchen. "It will be very good for her, <i>amigos</i>. Maria Luisa is +studying English in high school. It will help her greatly."</p> + +<p>"Let her teach Jerry Spanish in a week," Hall said.</p> + +<p>The girl seemed pleased when her father told her about Jerry. "Oh, +nice," she said, trying out her English immediately. "You are very +welcome, Aunt. The pleasure it is all of mine."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," Jerry said.</p> + +<p>"Please. May I show you the room? There are five rooms upstairs in my +father's house. Your room faces the ..." She paused, flustered, turned +to Hall. "<i>Cómo se dice, por favor, frente con vista al mar?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Tell her that her room <i>faces the ocean front</i>, Maria Luisa. And teach +her two words of Spanish for every word you learn from her."</p> + +<p>"Let's go," Jerry said to the girl. "Vamoose <i>arriba, sí</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Under no circumstances," Segador said when the girls were gone, "must +you attempt to come back by regular routes. If anything happens to me, +wait at the border. Get to Santiago by plane, and wait in the big hotel +for word from us."</p> + +<p>"How bad is it for me?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? The fascists are mother-raping bastards, but they are no +donkeys. Today they must be looking for you in San Hermano. In a few +hours, they will begin to worry. Tomorrow they will become upset because +you are gone, and by tomorrow night they will turn the whole Cross and +Sword gang loose to look for you. But by tomorrow night, if all goes +well, and if that madman of a Duarte doesn't try to drive the car +himself but brings his driver along, you will be in Havana.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Segador said, "we will do everything we can to end the +hunt. But we can only do the usual things. Perhaps we will identify the +body of some poor Hermanito who gets killed by a car as Matthew Hall. +Give me some papers, by the way; we'll need them if we can get the right +body."</p> + +<p>"Lavandero has my American passport. And here's my wallet. That's good +enough." Hall took the three photos out of the wallet. "The pictures are +for her—if I don't come back."</p> + +<p>"And the money?"</p> + +<p>Hall flipped his fingers through the eight hundred-odd dollars worth of +travelers' checks. "I'd better sign these, just in case," he said. "I +want you to split it between Pepe Delgado and Emilio Vicente."</p> + +<p>"I understand," Segador said. "Duarte is bringing some money for you to +travel on."</p> + +<p>"I'll repay him when I return. Is there anything else I should know? I +have to write a letter. Have you any paper, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"In a moment."</p> + +<p>"Just a few things," Segador said. "A simple code for sending messages +to us." He explained the code system in a few minutes. "And one other +thing. I have the pictures we took of that Nazi Vicente shot; pictures +of his face and his fingerprints. We will seal them in the pouch you are +carrying. Perhaps you can identify it in Havana somehow."</p> + +<p>"I will try. Ah, thanks for the paper. This will take me only a few +minutes." Hall propped the writing pad on his lap and wrote a short note +to his attorney in New York.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is it," he wrote, "and I'll be more surprised than you are +if you ever receive this letter. I'm about to leave this country on what +might turn out to be a one-way trip to the grave. If I don't come back, +this letter is to be sent to you. It's about my will. I still want the +dough to go to the Spanish refugees and the veterans of the +International Brigades, but I want to lop off about a quarter of the +total in the bank and due me from Bird and leave it for Miss Geraldine +Olmstead. She is an American citizen and, if you hadn't received this +note, would by now be Mrs. H. When you meet her, introduce her to my +friends and take her around to the Committee; she wants to help the +Spanish Republicans. If I really thought this was my last trip, I guess +I'd close this letter with some appropriate and high-sounding last +lines—you know, the kind of crap a guy would write as the lead for his +own obit. But we'll skip the farewell address. This letter is being +witnessed by two good friends, one a doctor and the other a major in +this country. I guess that makes it legal."</p> + +<p>Hall signed the letter, told Gonzales and Segador what he wanted done +with it, and handed them the pen. "How much time do we have?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You will have to leave in less than two hours," Segador said. "Duarte +will be here long before then."</p> + +<p>"Good." Hall looked at his watch. "I would like to see the girl alone in +her room for a while. There is much that I must tell her before I go."</p> + +<p>"I understand," Segador said.</p> + +<p>"Are you making the trip to San Martin with me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I will only ride the first twenty miles with you. I have a car +waiting for me at Marao."</p> + +<p>Hall waited for Gonzales to call his daughter, and then he went up to +Jerry's room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_fifteen" id="Chapter_fifteen"></a><i>Chapter fifteen</i></h2> + + +<p>Hall had time to buy a paper at the Havana airport before the Panair bus +started out for the city. In the half-light of evening, he could read +only the headlines, and the front page carried nothing about Tabio's +condition. It meant only one thing, that Don Anibal was still alive. His +death would have rated a banner headline in every paper published south +of the United States borders.</p> + +<p>He folded the paper under his sealed attaché case, sat wearily back in +his seat as the half-empty bus rolled through the flat table lands +between the airport and Havana. It was a run of fifteen miles from +Rancho Boyeros to the Prado, a stretch long enough to give Hall another +opportunity to review in his mind the nature of the tasks that lay ahead +of him.</p> + +<p>Physically, there were few details which could trap him. Duarte had been +very thorough, even to the point of bringing Mexican labels for Jerry to +sew into every item of apparel on Hall's body and in his Mexican leather +grip. The credentials in his worn Mexican wallet had carried him through +the control stations of four governments, including the station in San +Juan (although the night in Puerto Rico had been a jittery twelve hours +of sulking in his room like a caged animal). He wore a hat and a pair of +soft ankle boots which belonged to Duarte, and a pair of broad-framed +tortoise-shell reading glasses he had borrowed from Dr. Gonzales. The +attaché case, protected by the Mexican seal, contained the pictures of +Androtten, a letter from Duarte to a man named Figueroa in the Mexican +Embassy, and the automatic Segador had given him the day after he was +drugged.</p> + +<p>It was too late to report to the Mexican Embassy and deliver the letter +to Figueroa. But the Casa de la Cultura would be open (there were +lectures and meetings of some sort going on every night at the Spanish +Republican society), the boys on the staff of <i>Ahora</i> would be at their +desks at the paper, and Colonel Lobo could always be reached within a +few hours. The idea was to contact all three tonight; if the documentary +bomb which would blow up Ansaldo was anywhere in Havana, it would be +either at the Casa, the paper, or in the files of the Secret Police.</p> + +<p>His heart quickened as the bus reached the narrow streets of Havana, +honked its way to the Maceo, and then turned lazily down the Prado. He +loved this city as he loved only two others, New York and Madrid. In the +course of nearly four decades, Hall had spent a mere four months in +Havana, but these were months in which he rarely got more than four +hours' sleep a night. He had worked hard in this city, but for a +hundred-odd nights he had also known the fantastic pleasures of merely +walking the streets of the Cuban capital, talking to friends, stopping +off to rest and have a tropical beer or a tall glass of mamey pulp, +getting drunk only on the green softness of the Havana moon and the cool +pleasures of the Gulf breeze. Here he had found old friends from Spain, +and made new and life-long friendships with a host of Cubans. He knew, +when he last left Havana, that the city had become one of his spiritual +homes, that always he would think of it as a place to which he could +return when he wanted the peace which comes to a man from being where he +belongs.</p> + +<p>As they approached the Panair office, Hall became apprehensive. He was +afraid that he might be recognized by one of the clerks. He dug into his +wallet for an American two-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. +"Take me directly to the Jefferson Hotel, <i>chico</i>," he said. "It is only +two streets out of your way."</p> + +<p>"I won't get shot if I do, <i>amigo</i>."</p> + +<p>He chose the Jefferson because it was a small, ancient and very +unfashionable hotel, without a bar, and completely overlooked by the +American colony. It was also very inexpensive, just the kind of a place +a new courier, anxious to make a good record, would choose. It was on +the Prado, it was clean, and the bills were modest enough to reflect to +the credit of the government traveler who submitted them. Not the least +of its charms for Hall was that the Jefferson was the one place where he +stood not the slightest chance of being known by either the guests or +the employees.</p> + +<p>He signed the register with a modest flourish, insisted upon and +obtained a reduced rate due to his standing as a courier, and then, +spotting the large safe in the office behind the counter, he asked for +the manager. "I am," he said, flourishing his identity papers, "a +courier of the Mexican Government. Since I have arrived too late to +present myself to my Embassy tonight, could I ask for the privilege of +depositing my case in your safe for the night?"</p> + +<p>The manager said he would be honored to oblige. He had, he said, +traveled widely in Mexico, and admired the Mexican people, the Mexican +Government, and most of all Señor Ortiz Tinoco's Department of Foreign +Relations, and did the visitor expect to make frequent stops in Havana? +The visitor assured the manager that he did.</p> + +<p>The case was handed to the night clerk, who opened the safe, deposited +it, and closed the heavy iron door. "It will be as safe," the manager +said, "as the gold in the teeth of a Gallego."</p> + +<p>"That," said Hall, "is security enough for me."</p> + +<p>He got into the rickety elevator and went to his room. It was a large +room overlooking the Prado. He opened the shutters, looked out at the +star-drenched skies. He was home again. Outside, juke boxes in three +different open cafés on one street were playing three records with +maximum volume. A baby in the next room was lying alone and cooing at +the ceiling. Near by, a light roused a rooster on some rooftop to let +out a loud call.</p> + +<p>Hall heard the sounds of the city as they blended into the tone pattern +peculiarly Havana's own. He took a quick shower, changed into some fresh +clothes, and went downstairs to the Prado. He stopped first at a cigar +stand a few doors from the hotel, bought a handful of choice cigars, and +lit a long and very dark Partagas, being careful to remember that only +gringos removed the cigar band before lighting up.</p> + +<p>He walked casually down the Prado, toward the Malecon, pausing in the +course of the four blocks between the Casa de la Cultura and the +Jefferson to study the stills in the lobby of a movie house showing an +American film, to sip a leisurely pot of coffee, and to buy a box of wax +matches and a lottery ticket from a street vendor. From the street, he +could see that the windows of the Casa were well lighted. He walked +another block, crossed the street, and then, very casually, he studied +the signs on the street entrance to the organization's headquarters. +<i>Tonight: Lecture on History of Music by Professor A. Vasquez. Dance and +ball for young people.</i> And why shouldn't a bachelor courier on the +loose in Havana attend a dance for the young <i>refugiados</i>? He went +through the motions of a visiting blade debating with himself the +propriety of attending such a ball.</p> + +<p>Squaring his shoulders, the Mexican courier put the cigar in his mouth +and started to climb the stairs to the headquarters of the Casa. He +climbed slowly, afraid of receiving too enthusiastic a greeting when he +reached the first-floor landing.</p> + +<p>There was a light in the small meeting room at the end of the corridor. +Hall stood near the door for a few minutes, listening for a familiar +voice through the opened transom. Then, carefully, he knocked, and +turned the handle of the door. It was open.</p> + +<p>He stepped into a meeting of a small committee. Eight men were sitting +around a long table. They were talking about the problems of getting +help to the Spaniards in the French concentration camps in North Africa. +All discussion stopped the moment the confreres saw Hall.</p> + +<p>"I am looking," he said, "for Santiago Iglesias."</p> + +<p>A tawny-haired Spaniard at the table looked up. "<i>Viejo!</i>" he shouted, +springing from his chair and rushing over to confront Hall.</p> + +<p>The right hand which rose to take the cigar from Hall's mouth also +lingered long enough to hold an admonishing finger to his lips. "Hello, +Rafael," he said. "I didn't know you were in Cuba."</p> + +<p>Rafael was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Neither did Franco," he +laughed. "Last week I found out for the first time that the fascists had +jailed you and that you got out after the war. I thought you were dead, +M..."</p> + +<p>The look in Hall's eyes stopped him from pronouncing the rest of the +American's name.</p> + +<p>"Let's go outside," Hall said, softly. "I do not have much time."</p> + +<p>They stepped into the corridor. "Where can we talk?" Hall asked. "Is +anyone using Santiago's office?"</p> + +<p>"No. We can sit there."</p> + +<p>They found the office unoccupied. "Don't turn the light on," Hall said. +"The window faces the street."</p> + +<p>Rafael locked the door, pulled two seats close to the big desk in the +corner. "We can sit here and talk quietly," he said.</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful to see you, Rafael. I'd heard you were captured in a +hospital during the Ebro retreat."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mierda!</i> That's what the fascists boasted. No. I came out of the +retreat in good order. I started with thirty men, but, instead of taking +to the roads like the Lincolns, I started to cross the mountains. I went +up with thirty men, and I came down on the other side with a battalion. +Most of them got through alive after that."</p> + +<p>"Good boy! Where have you been since then?"</p> + +<p>"In hell!" Rafael spat, angrily. "Rotting in a French concentration +camp, mostly. I organized an escape. We killed six guards, and more than +twenty prisoners got away. I got to Casablanca through the underground, +and they put me on a Chilean ship. Two weeks ago we reached Havana. I'm +to eat and rest for a month. Then I go back to Spain for more fighting. +With the guerrillas. When did you get here?"</p> + +<p>"An hour ago. Listen, I want to talk to you. But it is important that we +find Santiago. Is he in town?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He is supposed to be at our meeting. He'll be here."</p> + +<p>"Can you go back and leave word for him to join you in here the minute +he comes? It's very important."</p> + +<p>Rafael jumped from his chair, struck an absurd caricature of military +posture, and made a limp French salute, his hand resting languidly +against his ear. "<i>Mais oui, mon général</i>," he said. "<i>Mais oui, oui, +oui.</i>" He marched stiffly out of the room, posing at the door to make an +obscene gesture meant for the men of Vichy.</p> + +<p>He glided noiselessly back to the dark office in a few minutes, waved +Hall's proffered cigar away. "I can't smoke any more. We had nothing to +smoke the last year in Spain, and Monsieur Daladier and Company never +sent us any tobacco. Now I just can't stand it. I walk around Havana and +everyone offers me cigars, but I've lost my taste for it."</p> + +<p>"It will come back, Rafael."</p> + +<p>"Why are you in Havana, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"It is a long story, <i>chico</i>. I'd rather tell you in front of Santiago. +It's about Anibal Tabio. I left San Hermano two nights ago. Things are +serious, there. Falange."</p> + +<p>"Is Tabio really so ill?"</p> + +<p>"He is dying, <i>chico</i>. He may be dead by now. I think he was killed by +the Falange. I came here for the proof. Santiago knows. We've exchanged +letters."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hola!</i>" Santiago Iglesias was at the door. "Then you got my letters?" +He was ten years older than Rafael, tall and powerfully built. He +crossed the room in long, athlete's strides, his head thrown back as if +to announce to the world that the white hairs which outnumbered the +black of his head were merely an accident of the war.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would understand," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"What happens?"</p> + +<p>"Don Anibal is dying. I think Ansaldo did it."</p> + +<p>"He is a fascist, Mateo. You were absolutely right."</p> + +<p>"How do you know? I need the proof immediately."</p> + +<p>"There is a man in town who was trapped behind Franco's lines for two +years. He knew Ansaldo well."</p> + +<p>"That is good—for you and me. But it is not enough. There is too much +at stake."</p> + +<p>"I guessed as much, Mateo. General Mogrado sent a message from Mexico +City a few days ago. He wanted the information also. I took this man in +Havana and we went to a lawyer and he made a long affidavit about +Ansaldo. Mogrado has the affidavit by this time."</p> + +<p>"Who is this man? Is he well known?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mateo. He was a minor official of the Ministry of Commerce. I have +a copy of his affidavit, and you can meet him tomorrow if you wish. He +is staying with relatives in Marianao."</p> + +<p>"Let us try to see him tomorrow. But I need much more than his +affidavit. I need more than anything else a picture of Ansaldo in +Falange uniform, a picture that shows him with officers of Germany and +Italy. I was in Burgos when the picture was taken—and I have a feeling +that the picture is right here in Havana."</p> + +<p>"Here? In Havana?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, <i>compañeros</i>. I saw the <i>Arriba</i> man take that picture. I was +standing a hundred feet away. It was in the spring or summer of 1938," +Hall said. "I know you have the complete file of <i>Arriba</i> here."</p> + +<p>"No, Mateo. We do not."</p> + +<p>The blood left Hall's head. "You don't?" he said. "But when I was here +we ..."</p> + +<p>"It is the complete file of <i>Arriba</i> of Madrid since April of 1939, +Mateo. Since Franco entered Madrid, <i>amigo</i>."</p> + +<p>"And before that?"</p> + +<p>"There are some, but not a complete file. They have many fascist papers +at <i>Ahora</i>, and at the University there is Dr. Nazario with his personal +collection of fascist publications. It is very large, and it goes back +to 1935 in some cases, but it has many empty places."</p> + +<p>"And the Secret Police? What has Colonel Lobo got?"</p> + +<p>"Dossiers and documents. But papers—who knows?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be back in Madrid in a month," Rafael said. "I can go back sooner +if it will help the cause, Mateo. There is surely a complete file +there."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Rafael, but I need the picture in a few hours." He told +them why the pictures were needed, and how they would be used if he +could find them.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," Santiago said. "There are three collections to examine, +and in the meanwhile we might get some further clues from de Sola. He is +a very intelligent fellow. I'll put him to work on Dr. Nazario's +collection in the morning. Rafael, tonight you go to <i>Ahora</i>. Go through +their Spanish collection, and then examine their files of <i>Arriba</i> of +Havana. The local <i>Arriba</i> used more pictures than an American magazine, +and most of them came from Franco Spain. You'd better go right now."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there in ten minutes. Shall I tell them what it's about, +Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'll tell them myself. I'm here on false papers. Just warn them +that if they see me on the street I'm not to be recognized. But I'll see +them before I leave."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to call Lobo," Hall said. "At the very least his dossiers are +more official than de Sola's affidavit."</p> + +<p>Santiago shoved the phone toward Hall. "I was going to suggest it +myself. Do you remember the number?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>There was no answer at Lobo's house. Hall called the headquarters of the +National Police. "I want to reach Colonel Lobo," he said to the man who +answered his call.</p> + +<p>"We no longer have a Colonel Lobo."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"We have a General Lobo, señor."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Who is this speaking?"</p> + +<p>"Who am I?" Hall hesitated. "If he's there, just tell him it's Johnny +Verde Luna. He'll know who it is." Lobo called all Americans Johnny; +Verde Luna was a horse he and Hall had played for three straight weeks +at the Hipodromo until it romped home in front at the longest odds in +ten years.</p> + +<p>"I will, Mr. Johnny Green Moon," the other man said, in English. "When I +see him tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, señor. I ..."</p> + +<p>"He is not here, señor."</p> + +<p>"I know. Don't tell me where he is. But do you know?"</p> + +<p>"That depends."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, my friend," Hall said, his voice rising angrily, "I have +no time to play games. If you know where he is, find him and give him my +message. I'll call you every fifteen minutes until you get word from +him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, señor. I will do what I can. Where can I call you?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. I will call you." Hall hung up. "A clown!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you that Lobo is now a general."</p> + +<p>"When did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"Last week. It came as a reward for breaking up the Pinar del Rio +Nazi-Falange ring. You know, the one that was in radio contact with the +German submarines."</p> + +<p>"I remember it well." Hall had worked with Lobo in rooting the spy ring +out. "I wonder where the hell he is?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? But listen, Mateo, I know a man who knows all of Lobo's +hangouts. Suppose I send him out to look?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent. Just tell him to give Lobo this message—that he is the only +man who can save the life of Don Anibal Tabio. Eh?"</p> + +<p>"We'll try it. Wait here for me. I'll be right back."</p> + +<p>Hall started to tell Santiago the whole story of his experiences in San +Hermano when the Spaniard returned to the office. As soon as he +mentioned the fact that Ansaldo's assistant Marina was a morphine +addict, Santiago interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hijo de la gran puta!</i> I think I know him. Wait, I'll describe him. I +know him, all right, Mateo. Wait, I'll close the shutters. Then we can +turn on the light. I think I have his picture in this room."</p> + +<p>"Who is he, Santiago?"</p> + +<p>"Just a second. That's better." He turned on the small desk light. +"Let's go to the files."</p> + +<p>The Spaniard took a set of keys from his pocket, opened a heavy door +behind the desk and snapped on the light in a small store room. He +stepped in front of a row of steel filing cabinets, opened one with +another key. "He used another name in Spain—and in Paris. I know it's +the same man. Called himself Marcelino Gassau in 1937. Wait. Here it +is."</p> + +<p>"It's the <i>maricón</i>!" Hall cried when he saw the picture Santiago drew +from the file.</p> + +<p>"I knew it."</p> + +<p>Hall glanced at his watch. "Just a second. I'm going to call Lobo back. +It's time. Let's bring the whole file on the bastard out to the desk."</p> + +<p>The man at police headquarters had no news of Lobo. "I'll call you +back," Hall said. "Keep trying him."</p> + +<p>"So Gassau is your Marina," Santiago laughed. "We knew him well, the +<i>cabrón</i>. He was working in Portugal and Berlin as a liaison between +Sanjurjo and von Faupel in 1935 and 1936. Then, when the war started, he +went to Paris, the coward, spying on the German anti-fascists who were +on their way to fight with the Thaelmanns in Spain. He posed as a +contact man for the U.G.T., and then he'd lead the Germans straight to +the French police and notify the German Embassy. Then the Nazis would +start to complain that they were criminals who escaped from German +prisons and claim them back. Not one of the poor devils ever got to +Spain, but some of them were ultimately turned over to the German +Government and killed. It's all in this file."</p> + +<p>"What else can I find here?"</p> + +<p>"Not too much. He made a trip to Barcelona in 1937. The authorities +arrested him, but his friends got the British consulate to make a +special plea for his release, and the damned fools gave in and let him +go. After that he went to Argentina, but he returned to Madrid in May of +1939."</p> + +<p>The papers contained a detailed record of the fascist agent's crimes +against the Republic, and ended with a clipping from <i>Informaciones</i> of +Madrid which revealed that Gassau-Marina was one of ten men to be +decorated by the Falangist Government for distinguished service during +the three years of the war. A footnote to this list said that +Gassau-Marina was one of the three men decorated that day who had +previously been awarded the Order of the German Eagle, Second Class, by +German Ambassador to Spain, General Wilhelm von Faupel.</p> + +<p>"This will help," Hall said. "It's a good start."</p> + +<p>"There's my phone. Just a minute." It was Rafael. He was calling from +the offices of <i>Ahora</i>, and he suggested that Santiago join him there.</p> + +<p>"Let's go," Hall said. "Do we use separate cabs?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a child, Mateo. You're in Havana."</p> + +<p>"I'd better check with police headquarters on Lobo before we leave."</p> + +<p>They found Rafael in a tile-lined office on the second floor of the +newspaper building. He was sitting at a large table, three large piles +of fascist publications before him, and an opened copy of the Havana +<i>Arriba</i> in his hands. "No luck yet," he said. "But Eduardo Sanchez had +an idea where the picture can be found."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"He's in there," Rafael pointed to a door. "He's digging out some more +magazines."</p> + +<p>Sanchez walked in with an armload of bright-colored Havana <i>Arribas</i>. +"It's good to see you again, Mateo," he said. "What passes?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble. How are you making out?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? Are you going to stay long?"</p> + +<p>"I'm leaving tomorrow if I can get what I need."</p> + +<p>"You say the picture would be in <i>Arriba</i> for 1938?"</p> + +<p>"If at all, Eduardo."</p> + +<p>"That's serious. There is only one place in town where I know definitely +there is a complete file of <i>Arriba</i>. It might be a little hard to get +into."</p> + +<p>"Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"The third floor of the Spanish Embassy."</p> + +<p>"That's bad," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"Bad, yes," Santiago said. He put his arms over the shoulders of Rafael +and Eduardo. "But not hopeless, eh, <i>compañeros</i>?"</p> + +<p>Eduardo smiled, grimly. Rafael grinned, a sudden glint in his blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Rafael?"</p> + +<p>"I think we should shoot our way in, <i>mi coronel</i>."</p> + +<p>"And you, Eduardo?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. If we shoot our way in, we have to shoot our way out +again too. Maybe we'll kill a few fascists, but will we be able to get +at their files?"</p> + +<p>"It would do us good," Rafael said, "to kill ourselves a few fascists. I +think we are getting out of practice."</p> + +<p>"Sit down," Santiago said. "This takes some planning. Mateo, you had +better tell Eduardo what is at stake."</p> + +<p>"In a minute. I want some water. And I'd better phone Lobo's +headquarters again."</p> + +<p>"Use this phone," Eduardo said. "I'll bring you water." He took three +sheets of gray copy paper from his desk and fashioned a water cup. "We +can't get paper cups since Pearl Harbor."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," Santiago said. "There is a way we can kill two birds +with one stone. Eduardo, if Hall gets the picture, it kills Gamburdo and +the Falange in San Hermano. That's one bird."</p> + +<p>"And the other?"</p> + +<p>"The other, <i>compañeros</i>, is Fernando Rivas."</p> + +<p>"Rivas?" Eduardo's dark, good-looking face grew puzzled. "Is he in this +too?"</p> + +<p>"Wait. I should bring <i>Compañero</i> Hall up to date. You don't know Rivas, +Mateo. He is a queer bird. He comes from a good Republican family in +Madrid. A very good family. Republican since before the First Republic. +This Rivas, this Fernando, he was good. Under Alfonso, he got a job in +the Foreign Office. They sent him to Havana as an attaché in the +legation. Even then he was a good Republican. But something happened to +the man when the war started. He didn't fight for the fascists, but ..."</p> + +<p>"Tell him about his wife," Rafael said.</p> + +<p>"That's what I think did it. He had a British wife, and she had +high-life aspirations."</p> + +<p>"I think I understand," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"I don't have to go into the details. There is no time for that, anyway. +The point is that he had to go to Spain last year, and he came back +filled with loathing for everything he saw. This I know for a fact. +First, he started to sit home alone every night and get drunk, and then +he began to write a memoir about what he saw. He didn't think anyone +would ever see it. He still doesn't know that anyone but himself has +ever seen it. I got it from his servant one morning a few weeks ago. She +is one of ours. We photographed it and she put it back before he got +home that night."</p> + +<p>Eduardo passed a box of inexpensive cigars around. "The week before +that," he said, "I ran into Rivas at a café in Matanzas. He was sobering +up after a drinking bout. I tried to avoid him but he followed me out of +the place. He was crying. He called himself a son of a whore mother and +a traitor to his honor and his people and carried on like a fool. Then +he started to tell me about his wife's lover—we've known all about that +for months, but Rivas had just found out—and I became filled with +disgust for the creature. I shook him off and left him standing in the +street crying like a whipped dog. I hate weaklings."</p> + +<p>"I get it," Hall said. "But when you saw his diary, you started to +change your mind, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I still don't trust him. I introduced him to Santiago because Santiago +wanted to meet him."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't trust him with Franco's daughter," Rafael said.</p> + +<p>Santiago Iglesias sighed heavily. "No one asks you to sleep with him, +Rafael," he said. "It isn't that. But you remember what happened in the +early days of the war. We had to take any officer who swore loyalty to +the Republic. We had no choice in the matter, did we, <i>chico</i>?"</p> + +<p>"But we also put in commissars to keep an eye on them."</p> + +<p>"It's true, <i>chico</i>. But some of them proved to be really loyal, eh?"</p> + +<p>"A handful."</p> + +<p>"All right, even a handful. But the point is that they were useful. Here +is the situation as of tonight: if the pictures which will kill the +Falange in San Hermano are anywhere within our reach at all, they are in +the Spanish Embassy. We have no contact we can trust inside the Embassy. +The nearest thing to such a contact is Rivas. He is a weakling and he +was a traitor. We know that. What we don't know is whether his +repentance is sincere. The only way to really find out is to test the +man. This is the time to test him. I've spoken with him three times in +the past week. He begs for a chance to prove that he has the right to +serve the Republic again."</p> + +<p>"He can serve the Republic best," Rafael insisted, "by blowing his +brains out."</p> + +<p>"Rafael!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Colonel Iglesias. I hate traitors."</p> + +<p>"I don't love them, <i>chico</i>. But it is not for us to put our personal +likes and dislikes before our greater duties, Major. And please +remember," he added, smiling, "you still are a major in the People's +Army. Neither your commission nor your Army has expired yet."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?" Rafael asked, softly. "I will respect your +commands as my superior—and my friend."</p> + +<p>Santiago toyed with a thick copy pencil. "I am going to put it to a vote +right here. Who is for getting Fernando Rivas to let us into the Spanish +Embassy and removing what we need from the files? Understand, we won't +tell him what we want in the files—that would be trusting him too much +before he proves himself. Who is for raiding the Embassy with the help +of Rivas? On this, Mateo, you will have to vote also."</p> + +<p>Hall and Eduardo Sanchez raised their hands.</p> + +<p>"Against?"</p> + +<p>The three men looked at Rafael. He folded his hands in his lap, +ostentatiously studied the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Are you against the idea, Rafael?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is crazy, Santiago. I am not afraid. I just think it is +crazy. Can't we get in without the traitor?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how," Santiago said. "I guess we'll have to try it without +you, Rafael."</p> + +<p>"Over my dead body, my friend. I'm going with you. I've been wrong +before, but I've never avoided a battle. I'm not ducking this one, +Santiago."</p> + +<p>Eduardo winked at Hall. "Listen to the strategist," he laughed, but +there was pride and real affection in his words. "Rafael," he said, "if +you didn't shoot so straight I'd say that you talk too damned much."</p> + +<p>"Go to hell," Rafael said. "You're wasting good time. Let's finish +examining these fascist papers. Maybe we'll find the filthy picture +tonight in these piles, and then we won't have to risk three, no four," +he looked at Hall, "four good Republican lives on the guts of a traitor. +Come on, Eduardo, get to work."</p> + +<p>Hall motioned Santiago to the door. "Let's go around the corner," he +whispered, "and bring back a few bottles of Cristal."</p> + +<p>They walked slowly to the <i>cantinería</i> on the corner, had some beer, and +bought a dozen bottles to take back with them. Santiago said that he +hoped it would not be necessary to raid the Embassy without previously +testing Rivas on less hazardous tasks.</p> + +<p>"Personally," he said, "I think Rivas is honest about wanting to come +back. I think he can be trusted if we have to do it with him. But it +might mean shooting, and you cannot afford to get shot. Perhaps you had +better not join us."</p> + +<p>"No. Don't try to cut me out, <i>viejo</i>, or I'll do it alone with Rafael."</p> + +<p>"All right. But I hope we find it before we have to raid the fascists."</p> + +<p>They went upstairs. "Call Fabri at your office," Eduardo told Santiago. +"He says he has some good news for you."</p> + +<p>"He must have found Lobo." Santiago was right. His man had reached the +General. "He says for you to meet him at headquarters in an hour. Fabri +found him at a party in Vedado. If I know Jaime Lobo, that means he will +actually be back in two hours. You've got plenty of time."</p> + +<p>Eduardo took a bottle opener from his desk. "You'll get me in trouble," +he said. "We're not allowed to drink in the office."</p> + +<p>"Tell Escalante it was my fault," Hall laughed.</p> + +<p>"You'd better sign a sworn statement."</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow. Listen, Eduardo, there is something you must do for me. +Santiago has a file on a man named Marcelino Gassau. I want the whole +thing copied on microfilm, four negatives of everything in the file. Can +you have it done in your dark room tomorrow morning?"</p> + +<p>"Consider it done, Mateo."</p> + +<p>Rafael drank his beer and cursed the magazines for not having the +pictures of Ansaldo that Hall wanted. "Let's get back to work," he said, +impatiently. "Let's find the damned pictures if they're here."</p> + +<p>Hall and Santiago sat down at the desk and started to go through +individual issues of various fascist publications for the year 1938. +While they worked, Hall asked Santiago if he knew the Figueroa whom he +had to see in the Mexican Embassy.</p> + +<p>"He is a friend," the Spaniard said. "He is completely reliable. He will +do anything you ask within reason—and nearly anything that is without +reason at all."</p> + +<p>None of the men found the photo Hall was seeking by the time he was +ready to leave for General Lobo's headquarters. "I'll get you a taxi," +Eduardo said. "You can take a look at the AP ticker in the wire room in +the meanwhile. There might be some news on Tabio's condition."</p> + +<p>The wires reported that Tabio still breathed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was nearly midnight when Hall crossed the threshold of the brooding +stone building that was Secret Police Headquarters. Like all police +headquarters the world over, this one also smelled faintly of carbolic +and damp stone, a stench Hall had grown to detest in San Sebastian. He +walked briskly down the dark corridor which led to Lobo's office.</p> + +<p>A young lieutenant was sitting at the desk in the anteroom. "Mr. Johnny +Green Moon?" he asked, grinning.</p> + +<p>"Hello," Hall laughed. "You still here?"</p> + +<p>"Just a second." The lieutenant pressed a button on his desk. There was +a click in the electric door stop of the massive oak and iron door +behind the desk. "Go right in, Mr. Green Moon."</p> + +<p>Hall pushed the door open, stepped into the Spartan simplicity of Lobo's +private office, and quickly shut out the smell of carbolic by slamming +the door behind him. Lobo, who had equally good reasons for hating that +odor, had installed an American air-cleaning system in his own office.</p> + +<p>The young general—he was about three years younger than Hall—was +sitting at his tremendous carved desk and studying some papers. +"Johnny!" he shouted. "<i>Qué tal?</i>" He was wearing a very formal white +dress uniform heavy with medals and gold braid.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jaime," Hall said. "You look like an American Christmas tree."</p> + +<p>"Johnny, you dog! You took me away from a most beautiful reception."</p> + +<p>"Beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"A dream. Unbelievable! Four and twenty blonde Vassar girls dancing +around Lobo and wondering out loud if the handsome spik speaks English. +Sensational!"</p> + +<p>Hall had to laugh with the general. He could easily picture the effect +of Jaime Lobo's towering dark attractiveness—more than once in the +United States Hollywood talent scouts had begged him to sign +contracts—in the eyes of the American women one could find at a lavish +reception in Havana. "An American sugar king's party?"</p> + +<p>"No. The British business colony. It was stupendous." Lobo had lived in +the United States for five years, got a great kick out of scattering the +superlatives of Hollywood in his speech when he spoke English.</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Hall said, dryly. "It was super-colossal." He sat down in the +large armchair at the side of the desk, helped himself to one of Lobo's +cigars.</p> + +<p>"So you don't want to play," Lobo said, sobering and taking his own +seat.</p> + +<p>"Some other time, Jaime."</p> + +<p>"Sounds bad, keed. But tell me, Johnny, is it true that Don Anibal is +dying?"</p> + +<p>"He may be dead by now."</p> + +<p>"Ansaldo killed him?"</p> + +<p>Hall started. "What do you know about Ansaldo?"</p> + +<p>"I know he's a fascist pig. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? For the love of God, Jaime, if you can give me the proof, we +can ..." He told Lobo about the plans of Lavandero and the anti-fascists +in San Hermano.</p> + +<p>"I understand," Lobo said. "I've already sent for the dossier on +Ansaldo. It should be here in a few minutes. But while we're waiting, +there are a few things I'd like to show you." He opened the drawer in +his desk and took out an automatic wrapped in a brown-silk handkerchief. +"Take a look at this gun," he said, "but don't touch. I want to save the +fingerprints."</p> + +<p>"What about it?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing. I thought you might know something about it. The hell with +it. But tell me, Mateo, when did you get to town?"</p> + +<p>"This evening."</p> + +<p>"Panair?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, why?"</p> + +<p>"Then you're staying at the Jefferson, registered as Victor Ortiz +Tinoco, eh?"</p> + +<p>"My God," Hall laughed. "That's my gun!"</p> + +<p>"That was your gun, <i>chico</i>. It is now Cuban Government Exhibit A in the +case against your brains. So you had it all figured out, my boy. You'd +come to Havana with fake papers, put up at an out-of-the-way hotel, +check your gun with the hotel management, shoot the Spanish Ambassador, +and then plant the gun in my back pocket and blow town on your +diplomatic Mexican passport. But you reckoned without two suspicious and +smart young second lieutenants from Oriente Province."</p> + +<p>"What was my fatal mistake, chief?"</p> + +<p>"Your accent and the cardinal stupidity of giving your attaché case to +the desk clerk. He's a communist from Oriente. The weight made him +suspicious, and he called his friends in my office. Only he guessed from +your accent that you were a Spaniard, and that the gun was for the +purpose of shooting up the Mexican Embassy."</p> + +<p>"You know what Jefferson said about eternal vigilance being the price of +liberty, Jaime."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Jefferson and the natural shrewdness of a peasant from Oriente +Province. Of course the minute I saw the report describing Ortiz Tinoco +as a Spaniard with scars on the face, a broken nose, and big feet which +took him directly to the Casa de la Cultura, I knew it was Matthew Hall +in a beard."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Of course my phone calls every fifteen minutes didn't give you +any idea."</p> + +<p>"They helped, my boy. I'll admit that." He took the envelope bearing +Androtten's pictures and fingerprints from his desk. "Who is this +individual? He looks as if he is very seriously dead."</p> + +<p>"I brought that envelope here for you, Jaime. He was shot three days ago +in San Hermano, but I'm afraid I broke his nose before he died. That +other picture of him with his family and the letter from the Dutch +Government-in-Exile might be more interesting."</p> + +<p>"Wilhelm Androtten? Sounds like a brand of gin. Why did you kill him?"</p> + +<p>"He's a Nazi, Jaime. He was trying to kill me."</p> + +<p>General Lobo took some notes as he listened to Hall's account of +Androtten's role in the Ansaldo mission. "I guess the first thing to do +is to find out if the letter from Queen Wilhelmina is genuine. But it +still wouldn't prove anything. The Nazi, if he was an agent, could have +picked the name Androtten from a casualty list and then written to the +Dutch Government in the name of the soldier's father. I'll check the +photos and the fingerprints here, and also with American F.B.I. and the +British. The F.B.I. has been very good lately. They've helped out +terrifically here with technical things."</p> + +<p>A green light on Lobo's desk began to flicker. "It's the file room," he +said. "I guess they have the Ansaldo dossier." He called the lieutenant +on the inter-phone, told him to bring in the Ansaldo dossier.</p> + +<p>The dossier was not very long. It told the story how, in the winter of +1938, a prominent Cuban Falangist in the best of health had suddenly +taken to bed with a "serious complaint." His family announced to friends +that they had sent to Spain for a great doctor, one Varela Ansaldo. They +said Ansaldo cured the Cuban, to be sure, but he also had long private +sessions with the leaders of the Falange at the Spanish Embassy and, +before he returned to Franco Spain, the Falange in Cuba had undergone a +complete shake-up of its leadership. There were pictures of Ansaldo, but +alone and in plain clothes.</p> + +<p>"Are these the only pictures?" Hall asked.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. We took about three thousand feet of movie film from the +Inspector General of the Falange for Latin America when he tried to +escape to Spain on a C.T.E. ship two years ago. Let's look at them, old +man." He pressed a key in his inter-phone box. "Pablo," he barked, "set +up those Villanueva films in the machine. I'm coming in in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"I didn't think of that film," Hall confessed. "Every time you were +supposed to show it to me, something came up, remember?"</p> + +<p>Lobo was barking into the inter-phone again. "Teniente, scare up two +cold bottles of champagne for the theater, will you? We have a thirst +that is killing us."</p> + +<p>"Are you screening the film in a theater?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's a crime laboratory the F.B.I. installed for us. The whole +works. Wait till you see it, Matt. It's just like Hollywood. Colossal!"</p> + +<p>"And the champagne?"</p> + +<p>"That's my own contribution. I'll be damned if I can stop drinking +champagne in the middle of a party just because Johnny Green Moon drags +me out. Come on, let me show you the joint." He led Hall on a ten-minute +Cook's tour of the crime laboratory, his patter a slightly off-color +imitation of an American tourist guide's spiel. A small beaded screen +had been pulled down from the ceiling, facing two chromium-and-leather +lounge chairs. When the lieutenant brought in the champagne in two ice +buckets, General Lobo signaled the soldier in the tiny projection booth +to start the film.</p> + +<p>There was everything but a shot of Ansaldo.</p> + +<p>"He was too smart, the <i>cabrón</i>," Lobo said. "Let's go back to my office +and think it over." He poured what remained of the champagne into Hall's +glass.</p> + +<p>On the way back to his office, he asked the lieutenant to join Hall and +himself. "Lieutenant," he said, "here are some pictures and data on a +man named Wilhelm Androtten, and some notes I made. Put them all through +the mill—our own files, F.B.I., the British. Check the papers and +letters of Villanueva and Alvarez Garcia for any reference to Varela +Ansaldo. And give me a report by noon tomorrow. Anything else you can +think of for the moment, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"One thing. Those pictures of Gamburdo at the secret Falange dinner in +San Hermano. Remember it? I want about six microfilm negatives of each +shot."</p> + +<p>"Give them to me with your report, Lieutenant."</p> + +<p>The young officer accepted the papers, saluted smartly, and left.</p> + +<p>"There's one place in Havana where I can get that picture, Jaime," Hall +said. "The Spanish Embassy has a complete file of the Spanish <i>Arriba</i>, +and I'll stake my life on that picture of Ansaldo's being in that file."</p> + +<p>"So?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Jaime, I don't know if I'll have to examine that file. I won't +know until some time tomorrow morning. There's an outside chance that +old man Nazario has the <i>Arriba</i> we need in his collection at the +University. But please, Jaime, if I do have to go through the files on +Oficios Street, I don't want any of your excellent boys from Oriente +Province giving me a nice case of Cuban lead poisoning."</p> + +<p>Lobo, who had opened his collar and draped his long feet over his desk, +stopped smiling. He put his feet on the floor, buttoned the tunic +collar. "You don't understand," he said, speaking to Hall in Spanish for +the first time that evening. "In there, with the foolish movies, I make +foolish sayings. At the circus Lobo becomes the clown. But please +remember, Mateo, that I am a Latin American. My own people were driven +out of Spain by the spiritual forefathers of the Falange. I know what +will happen to Latin America if the Falange crowd wins out anywhere."</p> + +<p>"I know you do, Jaime."</p> + +<p>"I'm not always the playboy, Mateo. I know what my chief means to the +little nations of the Caribbean. I know what Don Anibal means to every +country south of Miami. I love Don Anibal. I love you because you love +my chief and my people and Don Anibal. <i>Claro?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Jaime. Then you'll tell your men I'm O.K.?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, my friend. I must tell them much more than that."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I'll try not to make any trouble. No international incidents."</p> + +<p>"If you don't have to shoot." Lobo became gay again. "Ay, Señor Ortiz +Tinoco," he sighed, "you might want to shoot, but you are without a +shooter to shoot with. My men are too good for you. They stole your +gun."</p> + +<p>"They are very good men, my general."</p> + +<p>"They have a good chief. But look, friend, in this drawer. I have a +treasure for you." He emptied the contents of a canvas bag on the desk. +"Ay, Señor Ortiz Tinoco, when I relieved Jefe Villanueva of his +super-production, I also took his gun. Such a wonderful little Swiss +automatic, built to be carried in a lady's purse or a horse's—ear. And +such a dainty Spanish leather shoulder holster. You would be a fool not +to accept this outfit in return for your gigantic cannon."</p> + +<p>Hall took off his jacket. "It's a deal," he said. "Help me get the +holster on."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going when you get the picture—if you get it, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"Caracas. Someone is meeting me there."</p> + +<p>The General laughed. "Caracas? Ay, we'll get you back to Caracas in +style, <i>chico</i>." He opened his cigar box, held it out in front of Hall. +"By the way, Mateo," he said, "I never asked you before. Are you a Red?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm a Red, White and Blue Kid. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Your government. Your embassy in San Hermano was sure that Pepe Stalin +was paying for your rice and beans. They asked your Embassy here to +check on you with me."</p> + +<p>"What did you tell them?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally, I told them that you were an agent. <i>Si</i>, señor! I told them +that you were a triple agent: mornings for the Kuomintang, afternoons +for the Grand Llama of Tibet, and evenings for the Protocols of Zion. +You'd better be careful when you get back to New York."</p> + +<p>"You bastard!"</p> + +<p>"Where are you going now? Me, I'm going right back to that party. I +promised a certain Vassar female, in my halting English, that I would be +back. Can I drop you anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to the Casa de la Cultura."</p> + +<p>"Good. But listen, Mateo, give me at least five hours' notice if you +decide to do any scholarly research on Oficios Street, eh? <i>Vámonos.</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_sixteen" id="Chapter_sixteen"></a><i>Chapter sixteen</i></h2> + + +<p>Don Anibal Tabio died at ten o'clock the next morning. He died on the +operating table, under Ansaldo's knife.</p> + +<p>Hall was in Santiago's office when Eduardo Sanchez called at eleven to +say that an AP flash had just come through in the newspaper's wire room.</p> + +<p>"Call me when the next bulletin comes through," he said, slowly. "We +have to know what Gamburdo and Lavandero are planning." Somehow, +although he had known for days that Tabio's hours were numbered, it was +hard to swallow his friend's dying on Ansaldo's terms. He was too +stunned to wonder how Gamburdo had finally won out. For a moment, there +was a sensation of sudden emptiness; this gave way to a sense of horror +and rage.</p> + +<p>"Poor Anibal," he said. "Charging the arrows of the Falange with only +the white plume of Truth in his thin hands."</p> + +<p>"He was your friend, wasn't he?" Santiago said. "He was a very great +man."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Would you like a drink, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"No, later. Call de Sola again. Tell him to hurry up. I'm going to the +Mexican Embassy. I have to leave an envelope with the secretary. I'll be +back in less than an hour."</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno.</i>" The Spaniard walked to the door with Hall. "There has been a +good change in you, Mateo," he said. "I remember the day when such a +blow would have sent you off like a wild bull. It is better to fight +them back the new way, no?"</p> + +<p>"You should know, Colonel Iglesias. You should know." Hall stopped off +at a bar on the way to his hotel for a quick double brandy to steady his +nerves.</p> + +<p>The manager of the Jefferson avoided Hall's eyes when he handed the +attaché case back to him. "The señor will notice that the seal is +unbroken?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It is a new seal," Hall said. "But be tranquil. I was present at Secret +Police Headquarters when the seal was broken. And please tell your clerk +that I am not angry with him." He put the case under his arm and took a +cab to the Mexican Embassy.</p> + +<p>There was more bad news when Hall returned to the Casa. The files of +Franco publications kept by Doctor Nazario at the University had also +failed to produce the needed picture of Ansaldo. And a messenger from +Eduardo Sanchez had brought for Hall a copy of the first AP bulletin +from San Hermano.</p> + +<p>Hall read the bulletin aloud for Santiago and Rafael. "The wily +bastard!" he said, reading how Gamburdo had decreed six days of official +mourning and a national election on the seventh day following Tabio's +death. "'As our beloved Educator's chosen deputy and successor, I can +promise the people of the Republic a continuation of the peace which was +ours under Don Anibal's wise leadership. I can promise that any +warmongers who would destroy this great blessing left to the nation by +Don Anibal will immediately feel the wrath of the government. It was +Anibal Tabio's last wish that our Republic be spared from suffering the +ravages of a war that is neither of our making nor of our choosing.'"</p> + +<p>"I hate politicos," Rafael said. "They are a stench in the nostrils of +decent people."</p> + +<p>"Tabio was a politico, too," Santiago said, sharply. "What else does it +say, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"It says that the Radicals and the Nationals have already nominated +Gamburdo. The Progressives and the Communists are meeting this afternoon +to select Lavandero as their candidate, and the Socialists are asking +both candidates for guarantees against Bolshevism before making up their +minds. The Traditional Nationalist Action Party—that's the Cross and +the Sword—are out a hundred per cent for Gamburdo."</p> + +<p>"What the hell are the Socialists stalling for?" Rafael shouted. "Where +are their brains?"</p> + +<p>"You mean," Santiago answered, gently, "where is their socialism?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to this," Hall said. "'The body of the President will lie in +state for six days in the Great Hall of Congress. Acting President +Gamburdo has ordered a hand-picked elite corps of army and navy officers +to maintain a twenty-four-hour watch over the bier.' An elite corps for +Don Anibal!</p> + +<p>"And listen to this: 'In the name of the Republic, Acting President +Gamburdo thanked the noted surgeon, Varela Ansaldo, for his last-hour +effort to save the life of the late President, and announced that he +would recommend to the Congress that Dr. Ansaldo and his assistant, Dr. +Marina, be given formal decorations. Gamburdo revealed that Ansaldo, who +came to San Hermano at his urgent pleas, left the mourning capital at +noon on the first leg of a flying voyage to Lisbon where he is to +perform a delicate operation on a prominent jurist.'"</p> + +<p>"They got away!" Rafael said.</p> + +<p>"It's not so bad," Hall said. "That is, it won't be if ..."</p> + +<p>"Of course, Mateo. If we can pin the arrows on Ansaldo after this +statement," Santiago said, "it will be very hard for Gamburdo to explain +to anyone. Especially since you have that picture of Gamburdo at the +secret Falange dinner."</p> + +<p>"I have more than that. I have a copy of the report the Inspector +General of the Falange made about Gamburdo at that dinner, and it's +written on official stationery. We've just got to get more on Ansaldo!"</p> + +<p>"Are you still against raiding the Embassy, Rafael?"</p> + +<p>"I changed my mind. When do we do it? Tonight?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Rafael, you'll have to find Dr. Moré. I think you'll catch +him in at the clinic now. Tell him to get Rivas and bring him to his own +house in Vedado."</p> + +<p>Hall took out his wallet. "Here, Rafael, you'll need money for taxis."</p> + +<p>"Are you crazy, Mateo? This is a hundred-peso note."</p> + +<p>"You'll also need a new suit. They won't let you into the Spanish +Embassy in those clothes."</p> + +<p>"I'll buy my own clothes!"</p> + +<p>"Rafael," Santiago said, gently, "Hall is our <i>compañero</i>."</p> + +<p>The boy began to blush. "I am sorry," he stammered, "but it is not my +way to accept such offers."</p> + +<p>"I don't offer it to a man," Hall said. "I gave it to an officer of the +People's Army. It is money intended to aid that army in its fight."</p> + +<p>"Hurry up, Rafael," Santiago said. "We will argue after we get out of +the Embassy—if we get out."</p> + +<p>"I've got to see Lobo," Hall said when Rafael left. "I've got to tell +him to ask the American Intelligence Service to check on Ansaldo's +movements in Lisbon. I don't think he is going to operate on any +Portuguese jurist or anyone else in Lisbon."</p> + +<p>"You'll make a fool of yourself, Mateo. You're not dealing with stupid +Spanish fascists like Franco and Gil Robles. You're dealing with the +German Nazis who run the Falange. I know them. They're too smart not to +have a patient waiting in bed for Ansaldo when he gets to Lisbon. Why +don't you see Lobo after our conference with Rivas? In the meanwhile, +I'd better get statements from de Sola and Carlos Echagaray on Ansaldo +and Marina."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Meeting Fernando Rivas in the home of the Cuban doctor, Hall was +reminded of what an acid-tongued Czech journalist said to him at Geneva +about Chautemps, a French politician. There was nothing wrong with the +politician, the Czech said, except that he had the face of a traitor. In +a city where the sun always shined, Rivas had the pallor of a skin which +never saw the sun. He sat tensely at the edge of the chair in Moré's +study, hands working a battered Panama, his puffy eyes darting furtive +looks at Rafael and Hall, men he had never seen before but whom he +obviously suspected of being agents of the Republican underground. Hall +thought: this is a man who can no longer know hate or love or anything +but fear.</p> + +<p>It was Santiago's show. He ran it on his own terms. From the outset, he +made it clear that he, or rather the Republic for which he spoke, was +giving the orders. They were given decently, temperately, but not +without the proof that force lay behind the commands. Rivas was to +address him as Colonel. "And these," he said, indicating Rafael and +Hall, "are my aides, Majors Juan and Pancho."</p> + +<p>"What is it you want of me, Colonel? There is nothing I would not do for +you."</p> + +<p>"For whom?"</p> + +<p>"For the—for the Republic."</p> + +<p>"What Republic?"</p> + +<p>"The Republic of Spain. The Republic of the Constitution of 1931."</p> + +<p>"And why should the Republic trust you now, Rivas?"</p> + +<p>"There is no reason, Colonel. I can ask only in the name of my family."</p> + +<p>Rafael had seen the older brother of Rivas die charging a German battery +near Bilbao. "It is not your privilege," he said. "I knew your brother." +Hall laid a restraining hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"You betrayed your family when you betrayed your people," Santiago said, +softly. "It is not good enough. I must have a better reason."</p> + +<p>"State your own terms," Rivas said. "I will meet them."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>The traitor took out a silk handkerchief, mopped his face. He suddenly +seemed to grow, to straighten his back. His head held high, he looked +each man proudly in the eyes. A moment earlier, his hands, his lips had +been quivering. Now they were firm and still. "Why?" he repeated in a +new, stronger voice. "Why?" He was fighting for one last chance, +fighting with his remaining reserve of dignity. "I'll tell you why, my +Colonel. Because I don't care whether I live or not. But I want to die +as a Spaniard, as a free man again. I want to die as a Republican. Is +that reason enough?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Santiago Iglesias was not a cruel person. He hated to play cat +and mouse with a human being, even with such as Rivas. But his first +responsibilities were to the Republic. "I hardly think so," he said, +speaking as an officer, although as a man he knew that Rivas had stated +a good reason, because he knew the reason to be true. "I hardly think +so, Rivas," he said. "Merely because the wife of a man who betrayed the +Republic turns out to be a whore is no reason for the Republic to love +him more."</p> + +<p>Fernando Rivas bent forward, as if he were trying to ward off a heavy +series of blows. "No," he said. "It is not reason enough."</p> + +<p>The thin body of Rafael Abelando shook with silent laughter for a +moment, and then it became still. The young major turned to Santiago, +his face filled with a sudden pity for the wreck of a man in the chair. +Hall caught the look, too, the admission of something Rafael would have +died rather than say out loud. The boy was ready to give the traitor +Rivas his last chance. It was the moment Santiago had been waiting for; +without Rafael's implicit confidence in his plan, he had all but decided +to call it off.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Pancho?"</p> + +<p>Hall nodded agreement.</p> + +<p>"And you, Major?"</p> + +<p>"The hell with what I think. I'll do my thinking later. If he comes +through, I'll tell you what I think. If he funks out on us, I'll slit +his throat."</p> + +<p>"All right, Rivas," Santiago said. "We will give you your chance. We +need your help tonight."</p> + +<p>"Shall I come armed? I am an expert marksman, Colonel."</p> + +<p>"No. We shall carry the arms. You shall carry the key—or the keys. We +want to get into the third floor of the Embassy, and we want to get out +alive—and without shooting. Can it be done?"</p> + +<p>Rivas raised his head, stared into the faces of the three men who held +open the gates of the Republic. "I am willing," he said. "It might take +some planning, gentlemen, but it can be done." He held out his hand to +Santiago. The colonel accepted it.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you are with us," Santiago said. "In a sense, you are the +most fortunate of the four of us. You see, Rivas, if we should all get +killed tonight, yours would be the most lasting memorial."</p> + +<p>"But why me, Colonel?"</p> + +<p>Santiago picked a heavy manila envelope up from the floor. He took out +the photographs of the memoir on Franco's Spain that Rivas had written +in his own hand. "You see," he said, "if we should all die tonight, the +Casa de la Cultura will publish your excellent memoir—with a postscript +about your heroic sacrifice."</p> + +<p>"But how?" Rivas gasped. "Where?"</p> + +<p>"You are surprised, Rivas? Please let me assure you that there are many +of us. We are everywhere where <i>they</i> are. <i>Claro?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I understand." For a fleeting moment Rivas had been back with the +Republic, a free man among free men. Now he was again a prisoner, but +with two jailers—Franco and the Republic. Now the Republic could force +the other to destroy him. "Yes," he said, "I understand." The Republic, +he knew, gave him his choice of executioners or his opportunity to fight +for his freedom.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I am grateful," he said. "I am grateful for the chance to belong to the +Republic again."</p> + +<p>"Good. We must plan. Shall we drink on it?"</p> + +<p>There was a decanter of Scotch whisky on Dr. Moré's sideboard. Santiago +filled four glasses to the brim, then called for and filled a fifth +glass. "It is for the other who will be with us tonight," he said. +Eduardo was getting the affidavit on Ansaldo from the exile in Marianao.</p> + +<p>"To the Republic!"</p> + +<p>Hall watched Rivas drink his Scotch in one greedy, hysterical gulp. He +quietly filled the man's glass, shoved the bottle toward him. Rivas +downed the second Scotch, reached for the bottle, then changed his mind +as his hand was in mid-air.</p> + +<p>"Paper," Rivas said. "The desk. I must draw a floor plan of the +Embassy."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>At eleven o'clock, Rivas let Santiago and his three friends into the +Spanish Embassy through the rear door.</p> + +<p>At ten-thirty, a large but unscheduled military parade started winding +through the streets of Old Havana. No one seemed to know what the parade +was about, but the soldiers in the ranks thought that it had something +to do with a surprise party being given to General Jaime Lobo to +celebrate his promotion in rank. It was his old regiment which had been +called out at nine that night and ordered into parade formation.</p> + +<p>At ten forty-five, the paraders were halted for some reason, and the +General's runners motorcycled down along the line of march and told the +bandmasters to keep on playing the liveliest of tunes. The order reached +the second band in the line just as it stopped in front of the Spanish +Embassy.</p> + +<p>A crowd gathered to listen to the band and watch the parade. Santiago, +Hall, Rafael and Eduardo casually detached themselves from this crowd at +precisely eleven.</p> + +<p>Rivas led them quietly up the back stairs. The blare of the brasses, the +booming of the drums, the crashing of the cymbals penetrated every +corner of the Embassy. "God is with us," he said. "The noise is +wonderful."</p> + +<p>Hall bit his tongue. A fat lot God had to do with it! He was crawling +behind Santiago, the Swiss automatic in the right hand cocked at his +hip. Eduardo was behind him, and ahead of Rafael. "Third floor," he +whispered. "We turn left at the head of the stairs and climb three +steps."</p> + +<p>Santiago pulled out his gun as they approached the third-floor landing. +He allowed Rivas to get a few steps ahead of him, to take the three +steps which led to the library. "Go in with Rivas," he whispered to +Hall. "You too, Eduardo."</p> + +<p>They followed Rivas into the dark room. He was standing near a draped +wall, motioning to them to follow him quietly. "Behind the drape," he +said. Eduardo closed in next to him. He frisked him for hidden knives or +guns. "Don't move," he said.</p> + +<p>Santiago joined Eduardo and Hall. "Rafael is covering the door," he +said. He motioned to Rivas to approach the drape. Eduardo remained at +the traitor's heels, the gun in Rivas's back. Hall knew what to do. He +waited until Santiago flattened himself out against the wall which +paralleled the drape, then he quickly drew the cloth to one side. He +found himself facing a large steel cabinet built into the wall.</p> + +<p>"Open." Santiago's fingers twirled an imaginary dial before his nose. +"Open it, Rivas."</p> + +<p>The frightened man who was both host and hostage raised his hand slowly, +fingered the dial, dropped his hand in disgust. He dried his sopping +fingers against the front of his jacket, tried again. The tumblers of +the lock rose and fell; the lock remained closed. Santiago slowly +released the safety catch of his pistol. "What passes?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ssh," Rivas pleaded. "I'll try it again."</p> + +<p>"Wait." Hall held a small bottle of brandy up to Rivas's face. "Take a +drink. It will steady your hands."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks."</p> + +<p>"Open it."</p> + +<p>"It's coming, Colonel."</p> + +<p>Santiago looked at the luminous dial of his wrist watch; eight minutes +gone. The band would not be under the window all night. He beckoned to +Hall. "That white door near the window, Mateo. He says you will find the +<i>Arribas</i> in there perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I'll try it."</p> + +<p>"He's opened the steel door," Eduardo said.</p> + +<p>"Keep him covered." Santiago stepped in front of Rivas, opened the door +as wide as it would swing. He faced a multitude of locked steel drawers.</p> + +<p>"Let me," Eduardo said. He changed places with Santiago. He was good at +picking such picayune locks; the concentration camp on the Isle of Pines +was full of native fascists whose careers ended when Eduardo jimmied +open the locks that protected their secrets. He could crack them open +swiftly, almost noiselessly.</p> + +<p>"There's one," he whispered. "Two."</p> + +<p>"He has a talent," Santiago said to Rivas.</p> + +<p>Hall glided over to the white door of the closet. Like the others, he +wore soft-soled rubber shoes. He took a small oil can from his pocket, +saturated the hinges and the handle of the white door. Slowly, he opened +the wooden door. A book balanced precariously on an upper shelf behind +the door started to fall. He grabbed it with his left hand. A rash of +invisible pimples spread over his scalp. Too much noise that time, even +though the book didn't fall. He held his breath, counted to twenty. The +band was still blaring, the drums pounding away. Good old God!</p> + +<p>He ran the slim beam of the dime-store flashlight over the shelves. +<i>Informaciones, A.B.C.</i>, ah, here, <i>Arriba</i>! He turned to signal to +Santiago that he had found it, but the colonel had again changed places +with Eduardo, was now emptying documents from the little steel drawers +to the inside of his shirt.</p> + +<p>Rafael, standing guard at the doorway, wildly signaled Hall to get to +work on the files. He pointed vigorously to the non-existent watch on +his narrow wrist.</p> + +<p>Hall dug into the <i>Arriba</i> pile. He pulled the top of the 1938 batch to +the floor, sat down in front of them. April. May. June. Not here. +Impossible! He sneaked the remainder of the brandy into his throat. Once +again. April. He looked at Santiago, working calmly; light flickering +over the papers in the drawers, eyes selecting the wheat from the chaff. +The problem is April. It happened in April, 1938. Easy does it. April +One. April Two. Three. Four. Seven. Nine. No. No. Not yet.</p> + +<p>Santiago was in the middle of the room, his hands crammed with papers. +He beckoned to Rafael, stuffed batches of papers into the major's shirt.</p> + +<p>"Got the bastard!" Hall said. He forgot to whisper. He climbed to his +feet, a yellowing newspaper in his hands. "Got it!"</p> + +<p>A door opened on the floor above. "Rivas?" someone on the fourth-floor +landing called.</p> + +<p>Rafael was still in the room. Santiago held his shoulder, shook his +head. Stay here, he motioned. He signaled for Rivas, handed him his own +gun. He pointed to the third-floor landing, smiled at the man.</p> + +<p>The four men in the room covered the back of Fernando Rivas as he +advanced toward the landing, the warm gun gripped firmly in his sweaty +hand. They watched him stick his head out of the door, say, hoarsely, +"Yes. It's all right," the gun hidden behind his thigh.</p> + +<p>"What's all the noise?" Fourth Floor again.</p> + +<p>"Parade."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing there?" No suspicion—just conversation. Anyone +could see Fourth Floor only meant conversation. Anyone but Rivas. To a +man, the four behind Rivas prayed he would stall off the man above him +with a polite nothing.</p> + +<p>"None of your business, you fascist pig!"</p> + +<p>Over and above all the noises of the city, of the band on the corner, of +the hearts thumping in the breasts of the four men in the room there +fell a whining silence which was both hours long and seconds short. Then +the silence was shattered by the crashing explosions of two heavy +pistols.</p> + +<p>"Let me." Rafael ran to the doorway, flattened out against the wall. His +eyes took in the prone body of Rivas at the landing and the heap of man +sprawled on the stairs. Rivas was dead. His gun lay near his head. The +man on the stairs still held onto his gun. Rafael reached behind him for +the silent weapon, the weapon you used on lone forays into enemy +territory, on guards in concentration camps.</p> + +<p>The knife flashed over his head, pinned the hand with the pistol to the +wooden stairs. Behind the knife flew Rafael. Once again the blade was +raised, this time with a hand still on it as it descended.</p> + +<p>Eduardo pulled Hall's sleeve. "Quick," he said. "The stairs. Follow me."</p> + +<p>"All right," Rafael said to the dead Rivas, "now you're a Republican."</p> + +<p>The watch on Santiago's wrist read 11.29 when Rafael, the last man to +leave, melted into the crowd around the band. People on the sidewalk +could hear feet pounding heavily through the large empty rooms of the +Embassy. Lights were going on in all the dark windows. Yells. A woman's +scream.</p> + +<p>At the head of the parade, a baton twirled. The uniforms started to move +forward. The crowd on the sidelines followed the band.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Later, sitting in Lobo's office, the mass of documents from the shirts +of Santiago and Eduardo and Rafael on the desk before the general, Hall +remembered his outcry when he found the picture of Ansaldo and the Axis +officers giving the fascist salute. My "got it!" got poor Rivas, he +thought. I'm still an amateur at it. Santiago was good; found dynamite, +but he kept his mouth shut. Eduardo was good; cracked the locks and kept +his mouth shut. Rafael was good; finished off the bastard from the +Fourth Floor in seconds, and remembered to use a knife, and kept his +mouth shut until it was all over. Funny the way he stood over what +remained of Rivas and said, "All right, now you're a Republican." +Mocking, yet respectful. It was good; no forgiveness for the dead man's +treachery but respect for his insane courage.</p> + +<p>"It was a nice band concert, yes?" Lobo said. "Plenty of bim bam boom in +the drums. Tsing! Tsing! Cymbals. Tarantara, tarantara."</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"I'm a one-man band, eh, keed?"</p> + +<p>"Colossal."</p> + +<p>"What's eating you, Matt? That little slob who killed himself with his +big mouth?"</p> + +<p>"It was my fault, Jaime. It was my big mouth."</p> + +<p>The General picked up a fistful of the documents which had cost the life +of Fernando Rivas. "What the hell is his life worth compared to the +lives of the hundreds of American seamen who now won't be sent to the +bottom by Nazi torpedoes in the South Atlantic? I'll say it again, Matt, +and if you'd stick around long enough, I could prove it. By tomorrow +morning I'll have at least twenty mucking bastards in the calabozo +thanks to what's in these papers; twenty fascist snakes who are the eyes +and the ears and the oil and the water of the Nazi subs in this part of +the ocean. You did it—and at the cost of only one second-rate life. +Isn't it worth it?"</p> + +<p>Hall was going through the documents on the desk. Bombshells, most of +them.</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Mandato # 36: 1940. From: Inspector-General Delegación +Nacional, del Servicio Exterior, de Falange Española +Tradicionalista de las J.O.N.S. To: Jefe Supremo, Falange de +San Hermano.</i> In Re: A.T.N. Effective immediately you will form +Acción Tradicionalista Nacional, to replace organization of +Falange ordered dissolved by the Jew-Communist betrayer, Tabio. +You will replace Yoke and Arrows with new symbol of Cross and +Sword. Until further orders, you will not enter Spanish Embassy +or consulates. <i>Camarada</i> Portada will arrive with detailed +orders within thirty days. <i>Saluda a</i> Franco! <i>Arriba</i> España!</p> + +<p><i>Mandato # 74: 1941, Servicio Exterior. Confidential</i>: +Enrique Gamburdo entered Tabio government with permission and +approval of the National Delegation of the Falange. <i>Camarada</i> +Gamburdo is to be given the support and unquestioning loyalty +due an Old Shirt. There will be no exceptions to this order. +Signed ...</p> + +<p><i>Orden # 107: 1941. Confidential</i>: Our heroic Japanese Allies +have today destroyed the Jew-Protestant-Marxist American fleet +in Honolulu. <i>Camaradas</i> of the Cross and Sword must be +prepared to defend the wise peace policies of <i>Camarada</i> +Gamburdo against the Jewish war mongers who will now try to +make the Kahal the government in San Hermano. El Caudillo has +shown how the Motherland can frustrate the war mongers. Do not +falter and delay the glorious hour of our final victory. +<i>Camarada</i> Marcelino Gassau will soon arrive in San Hermano +with instructions on how to help the victory. Signed ...</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Photograph these, will you, Jaime?"</p> + +<p>Lobo was sorting out the documents in rough piles. Sabotage. Espionage. +Undersea warfare. Guantanamo. Cuban politics. "The works," he grinned. +"In a week, this haul will have crammed our prisons with fascist rats. +If we didn't have to avoid treading on the toes of your State Department +these documents would be enough to put the Spanish Ambassador in the +calabozo and bring about a break with Franco. But even if it happens, +you won't be around to see it, Matt. You're leaving in exactly four +hours."</p> + +<p>"Four hours?"</p> + +<p>"Just a minute. That's my private phone. Yes, General Lobo speaking." He +put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Pick up the other phone. It's the +Spanish Ambassador."</p> + +<p>"O.K."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Ambassador?"</p> + +<p>"General! Something terrible has happened."</p> + +<p>"Terrible?"</p> + +<p>"There's been a murder in the Embassy. Someone broke into the Embassy +and shot one of our attachés. Communists, I think."</p> + +<p>"Is he dead? When did this all happen?"</p> + +<p>"Five minutes ago."</p> + +<p>Hall and Lobo looked at the wall clock. The hands showed ten minutes +after one.</p> + +<p>"Five minutes or hours, Mr. Ambassador?"</p> + +<p>"Minutes, General. It just happened."</p> + +<p>"Where did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"On the stairs. The back stairs, between the third and fourth floors. It +is terrible."</p> + +<p>"Who is the man?"</p> + +<p>"Elicio Portada, General Lobo. Poor Portada!"</p> + +<p>"Just a minute." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Listen to those +lies, will you? Only one body. Three hours to dispose of the Rivas +carcass and search the files. Did you leave them in much of a mess, +Matt?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter." The hand came away from the phone. "Hello. Yes, +this is still General Lobo. Mr. Ambassador, I have very serious news for +you. As the representative of a friendly neutral, I am sure we can count +on your co-operation."</p> + +<p>"What is it, General?"</p> + +<p>"We happen to have incontrovertible evidence that the late Elicio +Portada was connected with a Nazi-Falange ring in direct contact with +German submarine fleets in these waters. My immediate deduction is that +he was killed by members of this ring to keep him from confessing to us. +He was on the verge of making a complete confession."</p> + +<p>"What? It is preposterous! I shall protest to the Foreign Minister!"</p> + +<p>"Suit yourself, señor. Our evidence is incontrovertible. In the +meanwhile, thanks to your attitude as you now express it. I must remind +you that while the crime was committed on what is legally Spanish +territory, if you move the body one inch out of the Embassy grounds you +will be moving it on to Cuban national territory. Do you understand me? +Not one body is to be moved out of the Embassy without my consent. Not +one body, do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"My government shall protest your interference, General Lobo."</p> + +<p>"Let them. I'm sending two men over to the Embassy. Tell them what +happened. And make up a list of all of Portada's friends. We'll find the +murderer on that list, I'll warrant." He hung up the telephone with a +slam.</p> + +<p>"Let him sleep that off," he laughed. "My super-dooper crime laboratory +will prove that the Ambassador lied about the time of the shooting. My +super-sleuths will find bloodstains on the third-floor landing—and I +hope to Christ Rivas has a different blood type than Portada. My +super-sleuths will keep a straight face when the fascists hand them the +gun of the missing murderer. Then my colossal courtesy-of-the-F.B.I. +crime laboratory will find Rivas's fingerprints on the gun. Mystery: +where is Rivas?"</p> + +<p>"Have you got his fingerprints?"</p> + +<p>"Teniente," Lobo shouted into the inter-phone, "send those Einsteins of +crime to the home of Fernando Rivas of the Spanish Embassy. Bring back +fingerprints: best place to find them is liquor bottle, razor, hair +brush—and do it fast."</p> + +<p>"Good going."</p> + +<p>"I'll teach that fascist bastard to tell me nursery tales on the +telephone at one in the morning." Lobo was growing genuinely indignant. +"God, how I wish you didn't have to leave town, Matt. I'm going to be +running a circus for the next two weeks!"</p> + +<p>"I'll take a rain check on it, Jaime. Maybe I can come back in time for +the closing day."</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" Lobo sent for his aide, ordered microfilm copies of the +documents to be ready in four hours. "And bring me the special belts and +harnesses, Teniente."</p> + +<p>"Did you get me a seat on a Panair plane? I thought Figueroa would take +care of that."</p> + +<p>"Better than that, my boy." Lobo crossed the room, opened a panel in the +wall. It revealed a closet filled with uniforms. "Get into one that +fits, Mateo. I have a seat for you on a Flying Fortress headed for +Caracas."</p> + +<p>"<i>Yanqui?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yanqui.</i> You're traveling as Major Angel Blanco of my confidential +staff. You are going south for me on a most delicate mission. You speak +very little English, and you stink from pomade. Besides, you wear these +thick glasses and you've been out on such a night of wild Latin +debauchery that you sleep most of the time. In short, you are the +Anglo-Saxon's dream of the stupid, conceited, lecherous Latin officer +who can't hold his liquor."</p> + +<p>"<i>Claro.</i> I'm repulsive."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you are also a walking microfilm file, only no one knows it. +Your belt, your Sam Browne harness, the lining of your short boots, the +inside of the visor of your cap are filled with identical sets of +microfilms. Your pouch carries a letter from me to a General XYZ in +code—and God preserve the sanity of anyone who attempts to uncode it. +It will add up to precisely three tons of <i>mierda de caballo</i>."</p> + +<p>Hall found a uniform that fit him. He got into it, smeared the proffered +pomade into his black hair. "Do I carry any baggage?"</p> + +<p>"We'll pack you a bag. Two extra uniforms, pictures of your wife, your +mistress, and your mother, a pound of pomade, a few copies of the +<i>Infantry Journal</i>—it will be all right."</p> + +<p>"I can imagine. But before I go, Jaime, there's something I don't quite +get. Why did the Spanish Embassy crowd have to hide Rivas's body? Why +couldn't they admit that he did it?"</p> + +<p>Lobo adjusted Hall's tunic. "Elementary, my dear Watson," he said. "The +Portada blighter was sleeping with the Rivas bloke's wife. It's the +Ambassador's job to avoid scandals within the happy family. Admitting +Rivas killed Portada over a rag, a bone, and a hank o' hair would be a +confession the Ambassador couldn't run his own show. Elementary?"</p> + +<p>"No. You're improvising, and the notes sound all wrong. Let me know +about it when you really find out, Sherlock."</p> + +<p>"Come back in two weeks." General Lobo yawned, stretched his long frame. +"I'll take you to the American air base myself," he said. "I'll +introduce you and act as your interpreter. And after you take off, +you'll be on your own. Who's meeting you in Caracas, by the way?"</p> + +<p>"Major Diego Segador. Know him?"</p> + +<p>Lobo smiled. "You'll get through," he said. "Segador has nine lives, +each of them tougher than the side of a battleship. Ask him to tell you +what we did to those three Nazi heavyweights in San Souci in '39. <i>Madre +de Dios</i>, Mateo, it was carnage!"</p> + +<p>Twenty steps down the corridor, a Negro technician was focusing a sharp +lens on page three of <i>Arriba</i> for April 27, 1938. The picture which +spread across four columns of the top of the page was remarkably like +the picture Hall had carried in his mind since that day with Jerry in +San Hermano. The fans in the negative dryer were whirring over +twenty-odd other negatives. Lobo was right, Hall realized. They were +worth the life of one Rivas, they might yet take the life of a Hall. The +stakes were worth the risk. Kill the beast in San Hermano, drive a knife +into its arteries, keep it from crawling north and its foul breath +beginning to stink up the clean air. Kill, so you can live again, kill, +so you can go back to Ohio when the beast was dead, and have children +and not worry that some day they'd have to kill or be killed too. Kill +for the same reasons the Rafaels and the Santiagos and the Lobos kill +and you'll never have to lose a night's sleep.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of the girl I'm going to marry in two weeks."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hijo de la gran puta!</i> He's in love, too! Let's go to the laboratory. +We've got a lot to do before you go."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_seventeen" id="Chapter_seventeen"></a><i>Chapter seventeen</i></h2> + + +<p>The American Army plane banked sharply over the blacked-out Caracas +field. Three times the four-motored ship circled the airport, breaking +its speed, rousing the men who controlled the lights along the correct +runways. During the second time around, Hall thought he saw a Douglas +with the bright green-and-white flag on its wings. He was not so sure +the third time.</p> + +<p>The pilot brought his ship in gently. It rolled down the new concrete +strip, a silver juggernaut in a cloud of red dust. Hall climbed out, +gave the captain a silver cigarette case as a souvenir of the trip. The +plane was not through for the night; it was to take on more fuel and +proceed to a base farther south.</p> + +<p>Hall went to the small operations building. He showed his papers to a +sleepy official, had his passport stamped. "That Douglas on the other +end of the field," he said to the official, "is that the plane from San +Hermano?"</p> + +<p>The official didn't know. He offered to find out. "It is not of +importance," Hall said. He left his bag with the official. "I will be +ready to go to the city as soon as the American plane takes off. Is that +car for me?"</p> + +<p>He went out to the field, stood chatting with the American flying +officers as they stretched their legs and smoked while their plane was +readied for the next leg of their flight. The boys were an agreeable +surprise, or they had a C. O. with brains; each of them spoke some +degree of Spanish, and to a man they were polite to the "Cuban officer" +who had made the trip with them. It was a decent, non-condescending +politeness.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask General Lobo to thank you all for your kindness," he +said. "You are, as they say in English, <i>damn regular guys</i>!"</p> + +<p>The young captain, who had given Hall his life history and his Seattle +home address, was touched. "Aw," he said, "we're just ordinary Yanks, +Major Blanco. Don't forget to look me up if you ever get to Seattle +after the war. Then I'll show you some real hospitality. <i>Entiende?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand perfectly, Captain. And you must visit me, too. You +can always reach me through General Lobo." Hall, who had calmly +appropriated the story of Lobo's boyhood and palmed it off on the +captain as his own during the flight, began to laugh. "Oh, yes, +Captain," he said, "we will have the most amazing reunion after the +war."</p> + +<p>"Well," the American pilot said, "we're shoving off now."</p> + +<p>Hall exchanged salutes and handshakes with the Fortress crew. "<i>Hasta +pronto</i>," he shouted, as the last man climbed aboard. He remained where +he stood, waving at the Americans, when he saw the outlines of Segador's +thick shoulders emerging from the lighted doorway of the administration +building. Segador was walking toward the Douglas.</p> + +<p>He approached Hall, glanced at the Cuban uniform for a second, and +continued on his way to the parked plane. There was no hint of +recognition.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," Hall said to Segador, "have you a match, please?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Major, I see the stamp of the government match monopoly. Would you +be from San Hermano, by any chance?"</p> + +<p>In the darkness, Segador's hand crept toward the huge pistol in his +holster. Hall held the unlighted match in his fingers. It was +unbelievable; he was still unrecognized. He had been speaking to Segador +in a disguised voice. "It is a very black night," he said in his normal +voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes—Colonel."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but it's major. Major Angel Blanco of the Cuban Army, +señor." Then he struck the match, held it close to the cigar in his +mouth.</p> + +<p>"<i>Madre de Dios!</i> It's you!"</p> + +<p>"Who the hell did you think it was, Diego? Wilhelm Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"I am a fool. But the uniform, the glasses—this confounded +blackness...."</p> + +<p>"Is that the plane?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. We can't take off until morning. I can't trust the night flying +instruments. Was it worth the trip?"</p> + +<p>"<i>In spades</i>," he said, in English.</p> + +<p>"It was successful?"</p> + +<p>"Very much, Diego. I found the picture. I found other things." He told +him about the documents on San Hermano which Santiago had taken from the +steel boxes. "If we stand behind the plane can we be seen by anyone?"</p> + +<p>"No. Only by my men in the cabin."</p> + +<p>"Good." They walked farther into the blackness, put the plane between +themselves and any eyes that might be watching them from the field +buildings. "Quick," Hall said, "give me your belt and take mine. It is +loaded with a complete set of negatives."</p> + +<p>The exchange was completed in seconds. "I've got three duplicate sets +hidden on my person," Hall said. "Now they'll have to kill both of us to +stop the truth from reaching San Hermano."</p> + +<p>"I'm sleeping in the plane," Segador said. "You had better sleep in +town. Did you arrange for a hotel, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"Lobo arranged a room for me through the Cuban Legation. There's a +diplomatic car at the gate now, waiting to take me to town. What time do +we start out?"</p> + +<p>"A minute after sunrise."</p> + +<p>"I'll be here. Can I bring anything from the hotel? Hot coffee? Beer?"</p> + +<p>"No. We have everything. Even," he looked up at the plane and smiled, +"even machine-gun belts."</p> + +<p>Hall followed his eyes. He found himself facing the twin barrels of the +machine guns in the side panel of the Douglas. There was a young soldier +at the firing end of the guns.</p> + +<p>"You do well, Sergeant," Segador said. "At ease."</p> + +<p>"Can he use them, Diego?"</p> + +<p>"He is a fantastic shot, that boy. He was in Spain. But you will meet +him tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"All right. But tell me one thing, if you can. It's been bothering me +for days. How did Ansaldo...?"</p> + +<p>"Don't. I hate to think of it, Mateo. The fascists put us all in a +bottle. <i>El Imparcial</i> ran a big story on the front page—they charged +that Don Anibal's only chance for life lay in an operation by Ansaldo. +They also hinted that selfish politicians were tying Ansaldo's hands. +The Cabinet had to capitulate."</p> + +<p>"And Lavandero?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't vote."</p> + +<p>"Poor Anibal! What was it that finally killed him?"</p> + +<p>Segador savagely bit the end off a cigar. "His faith in scoundrels!" he +said, vehemently. "Enough, Mateo. Shut up before I—I ..."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hall rode into town, had dinner sent up to his room. For an hour or so, +he read the local papers. Then he turned out the lights, took off his +tunic, opened his shirt collar, and put the Sam Browne belt with the +hidden pockets on the bed beside him. It was to be a night of rest +without sleep, a night of relaxing on the unmade bed with a hand never +farther than six inches from one of his two guns. Twice during the long +night he took benzedrine pills to keep awake. There could be no sleep +until the plane was well under way.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The two-motored Douglas was warming her engines when the Cuban +diplomatic car delivered Hall to the airport. "Drive right over to that +bomber," he ordered. "Fast."</p> + +<p>"Hey," he shouted before the car could skid to a stop, "taking off +without me?"</p> + +<p>Segador, freshly shaven, stepped to the doorway of the plane. "No. Get +on board. We were waiting. Toss me your grip."</p> + +<p>Hall tipped the driver of the car with a five-dollar note. "Give me a +hand, Diego. I'm not an antelope." Segador and the young sergeant pulled +him into the cabin.</p> + +<p>"Meet my crew. Major Blanco—First Pilot Captain Millares, Co-Pilot +Navigator Lieutenant Cuesta, Sergeant Mechanic Ruiz. They are a picked +crew, and they know what is at stake in this flight."</p> + +<p>The flying officers were at the controls. They saluted Hall, bade him +welcome. "Snub Nose says we can take off," the captain told Segador.</p> + +<p>"Then let's take off. Snub Nose, give Blanco a hand with his safety +belt. His hands are stiff."</p> + +<p>The wiry little sergeant fastened Hall's belt. "A lot of good it will do +you if we ground-loop, Major," he grinned.</p> + +<p>This one was a Spaniard. Hall knew it at once. Young, no more than +twenty-five, but very dry behind the ears. "<i>Chico</i>," he said, "if we +crash and I get hurt I'll murder you."</p> + +<p>"You terrify me." Snub Nose was laughing with the animal glee of sheer +happiness in being alive. "But I like you. I brought a bucket along just +for you when you get air-sick."</p> + +<p>"That's enough out of you, General Cisneros!" the first pilot yelled +into the microphone in his fist. "Come on up to the office and stop +bothering your betters."</p> + +<p>"Call me when you feel sick," the boy roared at Hall, his strong-timbred +voice rising above the blasts of the engines. He went up forward, stood +behind the pilots as the big plane taxied into position and took off.</p> + +<p>"I examined the negatives last night," Segador said. "They are worth all +they have cost. Were they very hard to get, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"Two lives. But one was a doomed life. It was not hard."</p> + +<p>"Feel like sleeping?" Segador pointed to an inflated rubber pallet in +the bomb bay.</p> + +<p>"I could use a few hours of sleep," Hall admitted. He made his way to +the pallet, covered himself with an army greatcoat.</p> + +<p>He slept heavily, waking only to eat, to stretch his legs once when they +landed to refuel and show their papers to a new set of officials, and, +finally, when Segador shook him and told him to put on his parachute.</p> + +<p>"We're near the border," Segador said. He had a map and a heavy black +pencil in his left hand. "Can you put it on?"</p> + +<p>Hall had worn similar chutes while flying with the R.A.F. over France. +He waved Snub Nose away with a derisive gesture. "Back to your nursery, +<i>chico</i>," he said to the sergeant. "I was wearing chutes when you were +in diapers."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Snub Nose said, deliberately misunderstanding, "we can't +give you a diaper, señor. Just make believe you're wearing a diaper if +you have to jump."</p> + +<p>Hall looked out of the window. The late afternoon sun was beginning to +wane.</p> + +<p>"Look," Segador said, making a mark on the map. "We are here now. I'd +planned on crossing our own borders just after dark. But we had a strong +tail wind all the way. We're ahead of time."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"It's not so good, Mateo. Most of the army is loyal, but for the last +two months Gamburdo has been bringing the Germans back into the army."</p> + +<p>"Germans?"</p> + +<p>"We call them the Germans. I mean the sons of the <i>estancieros</i> and the +<i>señoritos</i> who became officers under Segura while he had his Reichswehr +experts running the army. Tabio kicked them out, but he neglected to +shoot them. The bastards are everywhere now. We have to assume that they +know I left the country in a Douglas bomber. You might have been +recognized in Havana or in Caracas by Falangist agents. The Germans are +also able to put two and two together."</p> + +<p>"I was very careful."</p> + +<p>"But it cost two lives." Segador flipped a switch on the panel in front +of his seat. "Attention, everyone," he said into his microphone. +"Lieutenant, how soon before we reach the national border?"</p> + +<p>"If we maintain our air speed, Major, we are due to cross the border in +less than forty minutes."</p> + +<p>"Good. Come back here, please." Then, while the co-pilot left his seat +up front and started back to the seats near the bomb bay, Segador +continued talking. "Captain, you know what we must expect. The fliers +are all loyal; I don't think they would shoot down one of our own planes +without permission of their chief. But there are too many Germans in the +A-A arm. We may have trouble from the ground."</p> + +<p>"I can fly higher, sir. We are now at seven thousand."</p> + +<p>"Take her up to nine." He turned to the navigator. "How much will that +put between our belly and the mountain tops at the border?"</p> + +<p>"Three thousand, Major."</p> + +<p>"Not enough."</p> + +<p>"We can climb higher and fly on oxygen," the captain suggested.</p> + +<p>"No. We've got to take this chance," Segador said. There was not enough +oxygen on board, and only the major knew that this was because the chief +of the air arm feared the new officers who handled the oxygen depot.</p> + +<p>"Navigator, take a look at my map." The pencil traced a straight line +extending two hundred miles across the border. "Is this our course?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Major. We are flying on course now."</p> + +<p>"Thanks." Segador looked at his watch, extended the pencil line another +hundred miles into the country. "Snub Nose—how much flying time is left +in our fuel tanks?"</p> + +<p>"Three hours."</p> + +<p>The point of the pencil came to rest at the end of the line Segador had +drawn on the map. "Can we make this point on our gas and still have +enough left to fly back to San Martin Airport <i>from the north</i>? It would +mean flying a wide circle."</p> + +<p>The navigator studied the map. "It can be done, sir."</p> + +<p>"Good. Mateo, my plan is to drop by parachute with the negatives at this +point. The plane is then to return and land at San Martin. You will then +make your way to San Hermano by train and go directly to Gonzales by +car."</p> + +<p>"Will I be followed?"</p> + +<p>"I have a man at San Martin. He will guide you."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"With luck, I'll be in San Hermano before you."</p> + +<p>"All right."</p> + +<p>"Nine thousand," the captain said. "Border ahead."</p> + +<p>"Pour on the coals. Take your stations, men." Segador patted Snub Nose +on the back as the youngster crawled into the glass bubble below the +pilot's feet. The navigator went to the guns in the rear. "Stay here, +Mateo," Segador ordered. He climbed into the mid-ship gun turret.</p> + +<p>Hall had once been accustomed to being human super-cargo on board a +fighting plane. This time the feeling irritated him. For want of +something better to do, he took down a tommy gun from a rack near +Segador's seat and examined it for dust and grease. It was immaculately +kept. He laid it across his lap.</p> + +<p>"Crossing the border now," the pilot announced.</p> + +<p>The plane shot across the heavily wooded mountains, left them well +behind in fifteen minutes. Hall followed the fading shadows of the plane +as it sped over the foothills. In a few minutes, darkness would blot out +the shadows, and then he would again know the strangely exhilarating +feeling of being alone in the skies at night.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant," Segador said, "go up front and check the course."</p> + +<p>The major and the sergeant remained at their guns. "More hills ahead," +the navigator explained to Hall as he passed.</p> + +<p>"No lights," Segador ordered.</p> + +<p>Hall walked forward, stood behind the men at the instruments. The +navigator was making his readings under a shielded blue light. Millares, +the pilot, pulled back on his stick, slightly, begging altitude at a +minimum loss of air speed as he climbed to put more distance between the +plane and the string of lower hills which lay across their course.</p> + +<p>The navigator suddenly became very busy at his radio. "Major," he said +into his microphone, "we are being called by a ground station. They've +spotted us. They want to know who is in command, and what flight this +is."</p> + +<p>"Stick to your course," Segador answered. "Maximum speed." He crawled +back to the main cabin.</p> + +<p>"What shall I answer, Major?"</p> + +<p>"Don't answer them. We'll just act as if we didn't pick up their +signal."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Major. They're repeating their request."</p> + +<p>"Mateo," Segador said, "this is very bad. I don't know who controls the +ground station. We can't take chances. I'm jumping as soon as it gets +dark."</p> + +<p>"That's a matter of minutes."</p> + +<p>"I know. Navigator, the plan remains the same, except that I jump in ten +minutes. Ignore all ground challenges on your way back to San Martin."</p> + +<p>"I'm jumping with you," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"No, you're not."</p> + +<p>"If they shoot us down on the way back to San Martin, the negatives will +fall into their hands, if they're not destroyed."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we both jump and are both caught?"</p> + +<p>"It's a chance I'd rather take, Diego." Hall opened the secret pocket in +the visor of his Cuban Army cap. "Let me leave this set of negatives +with Snub Nose. I have two more sets on me—in my Sam Browne and my +boots."</p> + +<p>"I have to think about it." Segador adjusted the harness of his +parachute. Then he picked up his microphone. "Snub Nose," he ordered, +"come back here. Adjust the <i>compañero's</i> parachute. He's jumping with +me."</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno.</i> I'll show him how to use it, too."</p> + +<p>Hall and Segador formally shook hands with the rest of the crew before +they jumped.</p> + +<p>For a few long seconds, plunging face downward, Hall could not think. He +saw the plane pass over his feet, silver wings etched against the dark +ceiling. He counted to seven, aloud, his voice lost in the wind. Then he +pulled the release cord. There was the expected moment of tensing pain +as the silk clawed at the night air and the straps of the harness cut +into the insides of his thighs. In his mind's eye there was a picture he +had forgotten: a sand-bagged office in London on a bright May morning, +the English girl with the yellow crutch under her arm as she handed him +the mail. Tear sheets on the series he'd done in Scotland. <i>Copyright +1940 by Ball Syndicate Inc., Somewhere in England, April 19, 1940.</i> This +morning I took my place in line inside of a converted Lancaster, watched +the man in front of me lean out and tumble into the clear sky, and then +did exactly as he had done. I counted to ten, pulled my release cord, +and ... And what a hell of a pseudo-romantic way to make a living, he'd +said to himself and to the English girl that morning.</p> + +<p>But tonight there was nothing phony about sitting in a canvas sling, +falling through a wet cloud, eyes peeled for the white of Segador's +parachute. Tonight he was no Sunday supplement kibitzer taking a joy +ride amidst men rehearsing for death. Tonight he was finally in the war, +as a combatant.</p> + +<p>The tricks he had learned in Scotland served him in good stead now. He +was able to play the cords of the parachute, guiding the direction of +his descent so that he followed Segador. There was little time to think +of anything but the operation of the moment. Fortunately, it was a green +night. Like Segador, Hall could see from a thousand feet that they were +dropping over a sloping meadow. At about two hundred feet, they could +see that they were going to land in the middle of a flock of sheep.</p> + +<p>The sheep began to bleat madly and run about in circles, as first +Segador, then Hall, dropped into their pasture. Segador broke free of +his silk, ran over to help the American. "Careful," he said. "With so +many sheep, there must be a herder around. Let me do the talking."</p> + +<p>A man in a woolly sheepskin cape was following a cautious sheep dog +toward the spot where they stood. He carried a rifle.</p> + +<p>Segador allowed the shepherd to approach to within fifty feet. "<i>Hola!</i>" +he called. "We have disturbed your flock."</p> + +<p>The shepherd said something to his dog, continued advancing slowly +toward the two men from the sky.</p> + +<p>"He is afraid we might be Germans," Segador said. "They hate the Germans +worse than the devil in the country."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" The shepherd was now quite close to them. Hall could see +at once that he was a Basque.</p> + +<p>"Vasco?" Hall asked. He poured out a stream of Basque greetings. They +served only to put the shepherd more on his guard.</p> + +<p>"I saw you fall from the skies—like <i>quintacolumnistas</i>."</p> + +<p>"That is true, <i>compañero</i>," Segador said. "But we are not fifth +columnists."</p> + +<p>"Are you of the Republic?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The other. He is not of the Republic. His uniform is different, and he +speaks the tongue of my fathers badly."</p> + +<p>"He is of the Republic of Cuba. He is a friend of our Republic."</p> + +<p>"You both have guns," the herder said. He looked at his dog, who stood +between him and the intruders. "If you are friends, you will give your +guns to the dog. I am without letters, but if you are friends, you can +prove it to an educated man in our village."</p> + +<p>"What is your village?"</p> + +<p>"You have guns."</p> + +<p>"They are yours, <i>compañero</i>. See, I take mine. I lay it on the ground +for your dog."</p> + +<p>The shepherd addressed his dog in Euzkadi. The dog walked over to the +gun, picked it up in his mouth, dropped it at the peasant's feet. He +then made a trip for Hall's gun.</p> + +<p>"You will walk in front of me," the shepherd said. "We will go toward +that stile." He picked up the two pistols, shoved them into his skin +bag.</p> + +<p>Segador started to laugh. "I salute your vigilance, shepherd. We had two +guns to your one. We could have shot you first. A coward would have run +for help, first."</p> + +<p>"Cowards do not serve the Republic," the shepherd said. He remained ten +feet behind them, ignoring Segador's further attempts at conversation, +marching them toward a thatched hut on the outskirts of a tiny village. +When they approached the hut, the dog ran ahead, started to scratch on +the unpainted door.</p> + +<p>An Indian woman with a mestizo baby in her arms stood in the doorway +when the three men reached the hut. "Let them in, woman," the shepherd +ordered.</p> + +<p>The inside of the small hut was dark and bare. On a pallet in the far +corner, Hall could see the forms of children huddled in sleep, how many +he could not tell. There was a stone stove, a hand-hewn table and two +benches. In another corner, a fragment of a tallow candle burned +fitfully under a dim portrait. Hall realized, with an inward start, that +the portrait was not of Jesus but of Anibal Tabio.</p> + +<p>"Hold the gun."</p> + +<p>The woman put the baby on the pallet with the other children, took the +rifle in her hands.</p> + +<p>"If you are of the Republic," the shepherd said, "you will allow me to +tie your hands."</p> + +<p>"We are of the Republic—and for the Educator, who is now dead."</p> + +<p>The woman, who held the gun, backed away, closer to the picture, while +her husband bound the hands of Segador and Hall behind their backs, and +then connected all four hands with a third length of rope.</p> + +<p>"Send your woman for the educated man," Segador said. "But hurry. We are +on a mission for the Republic. We must not be delayed too long."</p> + +<p>The shepherd took the gun from his wife. "Go then," he said to her. +"Bring Bustamente the Notary to this house."</p> + +<p>Two of the children on the pallet were now sitting up, staring at the +visitors with wide, frightened eyes. Segador grinned at them. His eyes +were growing accustomed to the darkness. "Go back to sleep, <i>niños</i>," he +whispered. "We will play with you when you awake."</p> + +<p>The kids ducked under the woolly coverlet, hiding their heads.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," the shepherd said. "If you are friends, I will offer you the +hospitality of this table." He started to roll a cigarette out of a +fragment of newspaper.</p> + +<p>"There are cigarettes in my pocket," Hall suggested. "Cuban cigarettes. +Perhaps you would like one."</p> + +<p>The shepherd rose from his own bench without a word, found the +cigarettes, put two in the mouths of Hall and Segador. He struck a rope +lighter, started their cigarettes. Then, still without speaking, he +finished rolling his own cigarette and lit it. "If you are fifth +columnists," he said, "I spit on your cigarettes." There was no rancor +in his statement; it was a polite expression of simple logic.</p> + +<p>His wife returned in a few minutes. She was with a nervous little +white-haired man who clung to the waistband of his alpaca trousers. He +carried a shiny alpaca jacket in his free arm—this and the steel-framed +glasses on his ancient nose were his badges of authority.</p> + +<p>"This is Bustamente the Notary," the shepherd said.</p> + +<p>Bustamente fingered his glasses. "Yes," he said, alive to the importance +of the moment. "I am the Notary." He squinted down his nose at the two +men.</p> + +<p>"Major Diego Segador, of the Republic. And this is my colleague, Major +Angel Blanco, of the Cuban Army."</p> + +<p>"They fell from the sky," the shepherd said. "Like fifth columnists."</p> + +<p>"Is that true, Your Eminences?" Bustamente the Notary was taking no +chances.</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>"And you have papers?"</p> + +<p>"We have papers. Mine are in here. And yours, Major Blanco?"</p> + +<p>The Notary adjusted his glasses, turned to the papers while the +shepherd's wife held a candle over them. "Ay," he said. "They look real. +Yes, I must admit they look real. On the other hand, I must also admit +that I have never seen real Cuban papers." This was indeed a problem for +the Notary. He scratched his chin, importantly, cleared his throat with +a rumbling hawk. "What do you think, Juan Antonio?"</p> + +<p>"I am without letters," the shepherd said.</p> + +<p>"I must admit," the Notary said, not without sadness, "I must admit that +I have never seen real papers of our own army."</p> + +<p>"Please," Segador said, "it is important that we get to San Hermano. Is +there anyone in this village who is not for the landowners or the mine +owners or the Germans who has seen real papers? I ask this in the name +of Don Anibal Tabio, in whose name we undertook our mission."</p> + +<p>"Justice will be done," said Bustamente the Notary. "This is the era of +justice, my good friends." He tried to punctuate his pronouncement with +Tabio's famous gesture. To do this he had to release his waistband, and +his trousers started to fall to his knees. From the pallet came a +choking snicker.</p> + +<p>"Silence!" Juan Antonio hissed to the kids on the dark pallet. "Show +respect for Bustamente the Notary." His wife, at the same time, restored +the Notary's dignity by handing him a length of cord to use as a belt. +He fixed his trousers and then made the moment truly solemn by putting +on his jacket.</p> + +<p>"I am sure the Notary will dispense the justice of the Republic," the +shepherd said.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hombre!</i> This is very serious," Bustamente the Notary whispered. It +was a loud stage whisper. "We must consider our decision with careful +seriousness, Juan Antonio." He stepped outside of the hut.</p> + +<p>Hall could hear his discussion with the shepherd. "The one who claims to +be of us," the Notary said, "he does not talk like an enemy of Don +Anibal, Mayhissoulrestinpeace. How does the other talk?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. He tried to speak in Euzkadi. It is not his tongue."</p> + +<p>"It is, in a sense, suspicious then. But we must not be hasty. Justice +begins in the village." The phrase was Tabio's.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do, Señor Notary?"</p> + +<p>"The laws of the Constitution of the Republic guarantee justice to all +suspects, Juan Antonio. Please tell me all you know about the two +officers."</p> + +<p>He listened to the simple recital of the facts. "Ay, it is as I have +observed, <i>amigo</i>. There is much to be said on both sides. If they were +Germans or fifth columnists, perhaps they would have shot you first. On +the other hand, since neither of us has ever seen a Cuban uniform, how +can we tell? And if they are ours, why did they drop from the sky into +the middle of a flock of sheep?"</p> + +<p>"It is very deep, Señor Notary."</p> + +<p>"Let us talk softer, Juan Antonio. Perhaps they can hear us inside."</p> + +<p>They moved farther from the doorway, conversed in whispers for a few +minutes, and then they started to walk down the dirt street of the +village. Hall and Segador sat patiently, without exchanging a word. +Once, while they waited for the shepherd and the Notary, Segador told +Hall with a look that he thought everything was going to be all right. +Then the two villagers returned with two horses and two donkeys.</p> + +<p>"We have decided," said Bustamente the Notary, "that in the interests of +full justice we must take you to see the school teacher in Puente Bajo. +He will know what to do."</p> + +<p>Segador sighed with relief. "Thank you, Señor Notary," he said. "And +thank you, <i>Compañero</i> Shepherd. I am certain that your decision is the +wisest one could make, and that we shall receive ample justice from the +school teacher of Puente Bajo. But tell me, how far is the village from +here?"</p> + +<p>"It is less than five miles, Major."</p> + +<p>"I am content."</p> + +<p>The shepherd undid the cord that connected the bound hands of Hall and +Segador and, because their hands were still tied behind their backs, he +helped them mount the donkeys. He and the Notary climbed into the wooden +saddles of their small horses, fastening the donkeys' leads to their +pommels.</p> + +<p>Segador smiled at Hall, whose donkey was being led by the shepherd. +"Wonderful," he said. "Sancho leads the noble Don home from an encounter +with the sheep."</p> + +<p>"Please, gentlemen," Bustamente the Notary said, sharply, "you are not +to address one another. Justice begins in the village, and +justice"—again he aped Don Anibal's gesture—"and justice will be +done."</p> + +<p>"We bow to your authority in matters of justice," Segador said, gravely.</p> + +<p>He and Hall sat in silence as the convoy cut across a meadow on the +slope and turned toward the outlines of a larger village in the valley. +They jogged toward the dim yellow lights of Puente Bajo, the shepherd +piercing the night quiet with the curses he flung at the heads of the +donkeys every time they balked.</p> + +<p>At the outskirts of the town, Bustamente the Notary ordered a halt. "I +have been thinking," he said. "It is my feeling that if the two on the +donkeys are of the Republic and innocent, then we will have committed an +offense against their sacred dignity if we lead them into Puente Bajo +fettered on mangy donkeys. I have therefore come to the conclusion that +perhaps it would be better for me to ride on alone to the school and +bring the teacher back to meet us here, by the road."</p> + +<p>"I can agree," the shepherd said. "But wait until I tether their +donkeys." He dismounted, led the donkeys to the side of the road and +tied their forefeet to lengths of rope he fastened to a strong tree.</p> + +<p>"Would you want one of your own cigarettes?" he asked Hall.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Many thanks. And one for Major Segador, too. And please take one +for yourself."</p> + +<p>The shepherd declined with a serious face. "First," he said, "I must +hear what the school teacher has to say about you. He is wiser, even, +than Bustamente the Notary."</p> + +<p>Bustamente the Notary and the man who was acknowledged to be even of +more wisdom than he returned out of breath; the school teacher from +trotting after the short horse and the Notary from talking incessantly +to the pedagogue. The teacher was a compact mestizo in his early +twenties, a short youth with a furrowed sloping Indian forehead and +bright beady black eyes. He was wearing a pair of brown-cotton trousers, +a blue shirt without a tie, and rope-soled slippers.</p> + +<p>"Are you truly Major Segador?" he asked. And then, without waiting for +the answer, he turned to the shepherd and began to berate him. "You +fool," he shouted, "untie his bonds at once. Do you know that he sat in +El Moro with Don Anibal?"</p> + +<p>"I am without learning," the shepherd said.</p> + +<p>"It is all right, teacher," Segador said. "The <i>compañero</i> did his +duty—and he did it properly. Undo my hand, Juan Antonio, so that I may +shake your hand."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, <i>compañero</i>," the school teacher said to the shepherd. "I +spoke to you without thinking."</p> + +<p>"What is your name, teacher?"</p> + +<p>"I am called Pablo Artigas." He helped Hall and Segador get off the +donkeys. "I regret that you have had so much grief in our province."</p> + +<p>"Are you a member of the Union?" Segador asked.</p> + +<p>"Naturally. For three years—since I am a teacher. Before that I +belonged to the Union of Students."</p> + +<p>"And you have your <i>carnet</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Not with me, Major Segador. It is in my room at the school."</p> + +<p>"We will look at it. May we go with you?"</p> + +<p>"I will be honored."</p> + +<p>"Please, Your Honors," said Bustamente the Notary, "I insist that you +ride the horses. The teacher may have one of the donkeys. I shall walk."</p> + +<p>The shepherd reached into his sheepskin cloak. "Here are your pistols," +he said.</p> + +<p>Hall passed his cigarettes around. The shepherd accepted one with a shy +smile. "I am glad that you are not angry, Señor Cuban Major," he said. +"I have never had a Cuban cigarette before."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Chapter_eighteen" id="Chapter_eighteen"></a><i>Chapter eighteen</i></h2> + + +<p>"Fantastic! Sheer fantasy on paper, but it's all true. All roads lead to +San Hermano. First, Lobo. Then, today, the man from Spain. Then ..." +Felipe Duarte could not sit still. He walked around Hall's room at the +Bolivar like a referee during a fast bout between flyweights. +"Ostensibly, Lobo came to represent Batista at the funeral yesterday. +Actually, he came to bring duplicates and even the originals of most of +your negatives—as well as a report on Androtten. I don't know what's in +the Androtten report yet; all I know is that the American Intelligence +Service had something on it, and they gave it to Lobo."</p> + +<p>"I tried to reach him on the phone."</p> + +<p>"He's busy, Mateo. He's closeted with Lavandero. That's not all ..."</p> + +<p>"I know, the de Sola affidavit. I'll have to tell you about Havana, +Felipe. And about the all-night march to Cerrorico through the woods +with Segador and the school teacher and the Notary's mules." <i>Mateo, eh +Mateo, what did you see in the shepherd's hut? Tabio's picture? All I +could see was poverty, Mateo.</i></p> + +<p>"Hey, you're not listening? What are you thinking of?"</p> + +<p>Hall put his shaving brush down, inserted a fresh blade in his razor. "A +thousand things. Cerrorico. The mining stronghold. Segador said the +communists had a good press and that they were reliable. He wasn't +kidding. They must have run off a million leaflets with reproductions of +the Ansaldo pictures and the Havana documents by the time I left." +Later, he would tell Duarte about the ride from Cerrorico in the engine +cab of an ore train, and hopping off at dawn at the Monte Azul station, +and being met by a Pepe Delgado who wore a freshly washed and +ill-fitting reservist's uniform and drove a small army lorry. Segador +had gone ahead on an earlier train.</p> + +<p>"You should have seen the leaflets yesterday, Mateo. Just as the funeral +procession was at its greatest the army planes appeared overhead and +started to drop the leaflets by the ton. And an hour after the leaflets +fell from the skies, the pro-United Nations papers were all over the +country with front-page reproductions of the pictures and the +documents."</p> + +<p>"And all that time I was sleeping on an ore train. Who is this man from +Spain you mentioned, Felipe?"</p> + +<p>"It is fantastic! After Mogrado got my message, he rounded up two +Spanish Army surgeons who knew Ansaldo. They made affidavits, too. That +isn't the half of what Mogrado did. He reached the Spanish underground +in Spain via a cable to Lisbon. And this morning the Clipper came in +from Lisbon, and what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I can't think. But don't tell me it's fantastic, Felipe."</p> + +<p>"But it is fantastic. There is a man on board the plane, a typical +<i>señorito</i>. He has papers with him that say he is a Spanish diplomat. +The minute he steps ashore, a mug from the Spanish Embassy recognizes +him. 'He is a fraud, a <i>rojo</i>, a defiler of nuns and an arsonist of +cathedrals!' he shrieks. It's fantastic! The man with the papers lifts a +heavy fist and he lets fly with a blow that knocks out the fascist's +front teeth. 'Baby killer!' he hollers, and then he turns around to the +airport officials and he says he is a Mexican citizen who used fake +papers to escape from Spain and he demands that they take him under +guard to the Mexican Embassy. In the meanwhile he says they'll have to +kill him if they want to take his papers before he is delivered in +person to the Mexican Embassy. Is it fantastic, Mateo?"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake stop telling me that!"</p> + +<p>"But it is fantastic! He makes them drive him to the Mexican Embassy, +and the Spanish official is screaming like a stuck pig that the man is a +Spanish citizen and an agent of the Comintern."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"He is a Spaniard, of course. The underground sent him. They had cadres +in the office of the Falange National Delegation. They took out the +Falange party records of Ansaldo and Marina, put them under a camera, +and sent the pictures to San Hermano with this agent. It was a farce. I +was in the next room, listening to him as he told the Ambassador that +his name was Joaquin Bolivar. Then I walked in, the sweet light of +recognition on my ugly face, shouting 'Joaquin! My old University pal, +Joaquin! Don't you recognize your old Felipe Duarte?' The Ambassador +just watches me. The man's papers are still in a sealed envelope before +him.</p> + +<p>"It is enough for him. He slams his hands down on the papers and says he +claims them in the name of his government. 'I will take the +responsibility for Señor Bolivar,' he says. 'I have reason to believe he +is a Mexican national.' I ask you, Mateo—is it fantastic?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's just efficient. Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"The Ambassador took him and his papers to see Lavandero. He's giving a +deposition and an interview to the press."</p> + +<p>"I ought to take in the interview."</p> + +<p>"No. Stay away. Segador thinks it will be wiser if you stay away. But +that isn't all. Do you remember the picture of Ansaldo that started you +off on your wild-goose chase?"</p> + +<p>"Vaguely. What about it?"</p> + +<p>"There is a doctor in the Institute of Tropical Medicine in Puerto Rico. +He is the head of the pro-Loyalist Spanish society on the island ..."</p> + +<p>"Ramon Toro?"</p> + +<p>"Toro. You know him? Well, he must be a man worth knowing. He has a +collection of <i>Avance</i>—that was the Falange organ in San Juan, starting +with issue number one. When he sees the picture of Gamburdo embracing +Ansaldo—it was on the front page of <i>El Mundo</i> in San Juan—a bell +rings in his head. He starts going through his <i>Avances</i>, and what do +you think? He finds the picture you were looking for in an August issue. +So he rips open his suitcase, pastes the whole issue of <i>Avance</i> between +the linings, and arrives at the San Hermano airport last night. He +doesn't stop. He takes his bag straight to the editor of <i>La +Democracia</i>, empties it of his clothes, and pulls out the ..."</p> + +<p>"Christ! Toro had it all the time!"</p> + +<p>"It's on the front page of <i>La Democracia</i> this morning. I was in such a +rush to get here that I left it in my office. I tell you, all roads lead +to San Hermano. Every time I hear a plane overhead, I think, aha! more +anonymous Republicans and underground agents and Cuban generals are +coming in with more documents. It's fantastic!"</p> + +<p>"Did anyone else turn up?" Hall was feeling better than he had in years. +He was one of many now, he knew, one of an army who marched in uniform, +out of uniform, but an army which knew the enemy and knew how to fight +him. Mogrado, Fielding, Duarte, Segador, Rafael, Pepe, Vicente, +Iglesias, even poor Rivas for all his cringing and breast-beating—the +army was strong, and it was growing stronger with the taste of victory. +That was all that mattered, now.</p> + +<p>"I guess that's the beginning of the end for the Falange," he said.</p> + +<p>"The hell it is, Mateo." Duarte was coming down to earth. "It will be a +long row to hoe. Your State Department has been distributing judicious +hints that a unilateral policy toward Franco will upset the apple cart. +They're after an all-Hemisphere policy toward Spain. All that this means +is that none of the countries, except my own, will dare to break with +Franco until Washington takes the lead. Not even this one."</p> + +<p>"You're crazy."</p> + +<p>"I'm a diplomat, Mateo. Mark my words."</p> + +<p>"I hope you have to eat those words by the end of the week." Hall doused +his face with bay rum, patted it with a towel. "When did they call the +troops up? Pepe started to tell me about it when he drove me over last +night, but I fell asleep as soon as he got started."</p> + +<p>"Three days ago, Mateo. There was a meeting of the Student Council to +Aid the United Nations at the University. The hall was packed. Then the +Cross and Sword gunmen stormed the entrances and fired point blank into +the crowd. There were over fifteen deaths, and so many injured that the +University authorities established an emergency hospital in five lecture +rooms. Your Jerry has been there since. The commanding general of this +area is loyal to the Republic; he called up the reserves."</p> + +<p>"What about Jerry? I've been trying to reach her all morning."</p> + +<p>"She is wonderful. All the patients are trying to teach her Spanish."</p> + +<p>"What are we waiting for? Let's go to the University."</p> + +<p>"Not me. I've got to go back to the Embassy. Lobo says he can meet us +both for lunch at the Embassy."</p> + +<p>"I'll make it. Let's go. Oh, one more thing. I put through some calls to +New York. And some are coming in. I gave your office as one of the +places I could be reached."</p> + +<p>"Don't be late."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Jerry could spend only a few minutes with Hall on the University steps. +"Gonzales told me that you were safe," she said. "And also what you +accomplished. I'm proud of you, Matt."</p> + +<p>"I worried about you," he said. "Were you scared when you found yourself +in a war zone?"</p> + +<p>"No. Just angry. Maria Luisa was at the meeting when the shooting +started. She wasn't hurt, thank God, but she was a bloody mess when she +got home. Gonzales and I left for the University at once. I've been +here, since. We've had four deaths to date."</p> + +<p>"When can you get away?"</p> + +<p>"Not till dinner time. But things are easing up. We've been able to +transfer more than half of our cases to the hospitals."</p> + +<p>"The Bolivar at eight."</p> + +<p>He took a cab to the Mexican Embassy. The driver was beaming as he shut +the door. He told Hall that the early returns were overwhelmingly in +favor of Lavandero. "Yes, señor," he laughed, "the fascists are on the +run today. The lines formed outside of the polling places three and even +four hours before they opened. Did you see what fell from the planes +yesterday? Did you see the papers? Those dirty fascists!"</p> + +<p>Duarte had figures to back up the cab driver's story when Hall reached +the Mexican Embassy. "It is a wonderful victory, Mateo," he said. "The +tide is running so strongly that Gamburdo is expected to concede the +election before the polls close at five."</p> + +<p>"The bastard! Where's Lobo?"</p> + +<p>"He'll be here in a minute. Let me show you some of the leaflets. I'll +bet you haven't seen one yet."</p> + +<p>The leaflet was the size of a standard newspaper page, printed on both +sides. There was the large picture of Gamburdo embracing Ansaldo smack +up against the shot of Ansaldo, in fascist uniform, giving the fascist +salute along with the Nazi and the Italian officers. Most of the Falange +documents proving the Axis ties of Gamburdo and the Cross and Sword were +also reproduced on the single sheet.</p> + +<p>"It turned the election," Duarte said. "Until yesterday, the fascists +were spreading the story that Lavandero had kept Ansaldo from operating +in time. Gamburdo was so anxious to grab the credit for Ansaldo that he +dug his own grave."</p> + +<p>"He's not in the grave, yet."</p> + +<p>"Be patient."</p> + +<p>Lobo walked into the office. He was wearing his regulation tan uniform. +"Mateo," he shouted, "you're a fraud! I heard you were wearing a Cuban +officer's uniform."</p> + +<p>"It's in shreds, Jaime."</p> + +<p>Lobo eased his long frame into Duarte's favorite chair. "I thought you'd +never gotten through," he said. "After the second day of silence I was +sure the fascists had clipped your wings. Don't bother to tell me about +your hardships, though. I've already seen Segador."</p> + +<p>"Everyone has seen Segador," Hall laughed. "Everyone but me. When the +hell do I see him?"</p> + +<p>"He's very busy, my friend. He's responsible to a government, you know, +not to himself, like you."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mierda!</i>"</p> + +<p>"That reminds me. There's an American officer in town. From Miami."</p> + +<p>"Intelligence?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally. He's a very nice guy, Mateo. The American Ambassador's +daughter here told him that you are an agent of the Comintern. He told +me that he knew she was crazy. He asked me to tell you that he's a +straight-shooter and he wants to speak to you. In a friendly way, of +course. Name's Barrows. A lieutenant-colonel. Know him?"</p> + +<p>"No. What about Androtten?"</p> + +<p>"What about Barrows, first? If I were you, I'd give him a ring. He's at +the American Embassy."</p> + +<p>"All right. Shall I ask him to lunch with us?"</p> + +<p>Barrows was not free for lunch. He arranged to meet Hall at Duarte's +office at three. "He sounds human," Hall admitted.</p> + +<p>During their luncheon, Lobo told Hall and Duarte what he had learned +about Androtten from the American Government. The man was a German named +Schmidt or Wincklemann (he had used passports in both names) who had a +record as a German agent which went back to 1915. He had spent some time +in Java, some years in Spanish Morocco, and the year of 1935 living in a +villa at Estoril, the beach resort outside of Lisbon. "The record +doesn't say what he was doing in Portugal," Lobo said. "My guess is that +he was working with Sanjurjo."</p> + +<p>"I'd back you on that," Hall said. "The old rumhound needed someone to +hold his hand before the war."</p> + +<p>"There are blank spaces in the record after that," Lobo said. "The next +entry is the spring of 1938, when your Androtten was known as +Wincklemann. He turned up in Rome as an art dealer specializing in +Spanish masterpieces. He sold two Goyas and a Velasquez to three rich +ladies in the British colony; told them the paintings were from the +private collections of Spanish noblemen who had been ruined by the +<i>rojos</i>. He was lying, of course—the paintings had all been taken from +Spanish museums by the Nazis. Wincklemann disappeared, and the ladies +finally sold the paintings back to the Franco government in 1940 for the +same price. The last mention of Wincklemann or Schmidt is a paragraph +from a letter mailed to Washington from Mexico in July, 1941. The letter +was from the junta of Dominican opposition leaders and mentioned a +Gunther Wincklemann as one of four Nazi agents who had been guests of +Trujillo in the Dominican capital that month."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hall borrowed an empty office in the Mexican Embassy for his appointment +with the American officer. It went off well. Barrows was a +plain-speaking man in his early forties, with the handshake of a young +and vigorous boiler maker. He had a nice, unhurried way about him, his +frosty blue eyes surveying Hall with good humor while he fussed with his +thick-walled pipe. "I'd heard all sorts of conflicting stories about +you," he said, smiling at the conflicts.</p> + +<p>"I can imagine," Hall said.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could tell you half of them."</p> + +<p>"I know the Ambassador's half. Heard it in Havana."</p> + +<p>Barrows snorted. "Have you a match that lights?" he asked. "I've been +trying to get this pipe started for days." He refused a cigar. It was a +match that he wanted. Hall had a lighter whose flame burned long enough +to light the pipe. "There now," he said, "now we can talk. I know that +you heard about the Ambassador's report. If it will make you feel any +better, Skidmore got his tail singed for it." He was highly amused.</p> + +<p>"Good." Hall was warming up to Barrows. "I hate stuffed shirts."</p> + +<p>"So do I. But frankly, Hall, I'd like to drop the subject. I—I need +your advice. Unofficially, of course. But I need it. It's about the +reports that the late Roger Fielding made to the British Embassy. You +saw them, I understand."</p> + +<p>"Only once. A few nights before he was killed."</p> + +<p>"That's what I was told. Commander New in the British Embassy told me. +He's not exactly up on the San Hermano scene yet, you know. He thinks +that after the job you and Lobo did in Havana that he ought to turn the +originals of the Fielding reports over to the government. What he +doesn't know is who to hand them to. He wants to know who will use them +and who will burn them. He thought that since you were an American, he'd +ask me to get your slant on it."</p> + +<p>"I get it," Hall said. "You want one guy who is certain to be an +anti-fascist. Someone who will know just how to use the information."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I don't suppose I have to tell you, Hall, that the enemy has +been sinking our shipping in the South Atlantic and the Caribbean at a +rate that spells one hell of a long war. I know, as you do, that +Falangist Spaniards on shore are working with the Nazi undersea raiders. +But even if we wanted to, we couldn't send enough Marines to South +America to root 'em out. We've got to rely on the local governments to +do the job."</p> + +<p>"Yeah." Hall was bitter. "We want this Republic to root out the +Falangists, so we send an Ambassador who plays footy with the Falangists +in public and calls the anti-Falangist President a dirty Red."</p> + +<p>"You're carping, Hall."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'm carping. I'm a taxpayer, it's my prerogative to carp. We +want the Latin American Republics to get tough with the Franquists who +are helping the Nazis sink our ships, so we sell the Spanish fascists +the oil they transfer to the Nazi subs, and we send an Ambassador to +Madrid whose only exercise is kissing Franco's foot in public every +Sunday morning, and when any of our sister Republics want to break with +Franco we dispatch a sanctimonious buzzard in striped pants from the +State Department and he tells them to lay off Franco, Spain's Saviour +from Atheism and Communism. How in the hell can we expect the Latin +Republics to crack down on Franco's stooges at home when we ourselves +play up to Franco in Madrid?"</p> + +<p>"Let's have that lighter again." Barrows was cool and unruffled, the +smile that danced across the smooth lines of his face never wavered. +"I'm a soldier," he said, pleasantly. "I can't discuss policy. I can +only talk tactics. You know that, Hall. Tactics is the art of working +with an existent situation and licking it—not waiting for the +millennium. You think our policy toward Franco Spain should be changed. +Maybe you're right. Maybe it will be changed. But, in the meanwhile, +Franquists in Latin America, in this country specifically, are putting +the finger on our ships. Fielding's reports might be accurate. If we are +to act on them, we need the help of pro-Allied members of this +government. Who is our man?"</p> + +<p>"There is one man in these parts who can be trusted completely to do the +right things with those reports," Hall answered. "Give him the reports, +and after the polls close he'll be in a position to round up every +fascist Fielding listed and put them on ice for the duration. He's an +army man—Major Diego Segador."</p> + +<p>"And you think he's our man, eh? Would you mind writing his name in my +book, and the best place to reach him?"</p> + +<p>Hall carefully printed the information Barrows wanted and then, as he +returned the book, he said, deliberately, "But there's one thing you +should know about Segador. He's everything I said he is, and more. But +he's also a leftist. He's very close to the Communist Party."</p> + +<p>"So what?" Barrows said, casually. "The Russians are killing plenty of +Germans, and I understand their chief is a member of the party, too. Man +named Stalin, or something like that."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if I call you unique?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. But let me ask one. What are you planning to do for the +duration? Ever think of G-2?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. I applied before Pearl Harbor. They turned me down so hard I +thought I was hit by a truck. I applied again on December 8th, 1941. It +was still no soap. I was for the Loyalists in Spain, you know. That made +me what the brass hats term a 'premature anti-fascist' and definitely +not officer material."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know about that," Barrows said. "What would you do if the door +was opened for you now? Understand, I'm not making an offer. I'm just +asking."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Hall said. "I don't think the door would be opened. If +it was—I'd have to think about it."</p> + +<p>"May I have your lighter again?"</p> + +<p>Hall watched Barrows make a major operation of relighting his pipe, and +recognized it as the officer's neat device for creating a break in a +conversation that needed breaking. Barrows had a way of making the +ritual of lighting his pipe serve as the curtain that falls on a given +scene of a play.</p> + +<p>"The Ambassador," Barrows smiled. "He's been tearing his nice white hair +since you got back from Havana. You put him on an awful spot, you know."</p> + +<p>"It'll do him good, the old bastard. Do you know what Tabio told me +about him a few days before he died? He said that he was with Skidmore +at a dinner a few days after Germany invaded Russia and that Skidmore +said he was glad that now the Russians would get what was coming to +them."</p> + +<p>"Not really?"</p> + +<p>"Lavandero was there. He'll back me up." Hall stopped. "Say, I have an +idea," he said. "There's one thing I can do for G-2. I can write a +report on Skidmore. I'll do it right after the elections."</p> + +<p>"Oh-oh! It'll mean trouble with the Spats Department."</p> + +<p>"Spats?"</p> + +<p>"State. But you make your report, and give it to me. I'll turn it in +with the rest of my stuff when I get back. Why not? You're a civilian. +The worst that can happen to you after you write the report is that +you'll have trouble getting passports and visas."</p> + +<p>"I don't give a damn," Hall said. "And I'll do something else. You gave +me an idea. I'm still a civilian, you said. Swell, then I won't be +climbing over anyone's brass hat if I see to it that a copy of the +report reaches the White House."</p> + +<p>Barrows leaned back in his chair, laughing. "He told me that you +threatened to do just that," he said. "But he's just a harmless old +duffer, Hall. He told me he wanted to shake your hand."</p> + +<p>"He can shove it. Did you meet his daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Once. She doesn't like you."</p> + +<p>"Ever receive any reports in Miami about her?"</p> + +<p>"You know I can't answer that question, Hall."</p> + +<p>"O.K. That means—oh, I guess it means that you got reports that she +sleeps around plenty. But her political life is more important to G-2 +than her sex didoes."</p> + +<p>"Gossip?"</p> + +<p>"Fact. She's secretly engaged to be married to the man who killed +Fielding. The Marques de Runa. But don't worry—he'll never be brought +to trial for it. He's in Spain. Left by Clipper over a week ago with his +chauffeur, the man who actually ran poor Fielding down."</p> + +<p>The officer from Miami laid his pipe down on the desk. "This is pretty +serious," he said. "I don't want to get it all by ear, old man. Would +you mind talking while it was taken down? Not only about Margaret +Skidmore. About everything you can give your Uncle about the Falange? +Facts, names, addresses, opinions—the works. I brought a young +lieutenant with me from Miami; he was a crack stenographer in civilian +life. How about spending a few hours with us?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. I can give you the rest of the day, if you like."</p> + +<p>"I'd like it fine. But if you don't mind—not here."</p> + +<p>"O.K. Dr. Gonzales' house. It's on the outskirts of the city, and we'd +be alone."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hall spent the rest of the day at Gonzales', dictating to the +lieutenant. While they worked, Duarte phoned to tell him that Gamburdo +had formally conceded the election. "What are your dinner plans?" he +asked the Mexican.</p> + +<p>"None. I have to finish a long report on the elections before I eat. +Where and when are you eating?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I thought that for sentimental reasons I'd eat with Jerry +and Pepe and Vicente and Souza at the Bolivar. Lobo is tied up for the +evening."</p> + +<p>"I'll join you when I can, Mateo."</p> + +<p>Later, when the American officers left, Hall tried to reach his friends +by phone. Arturo, the desk clerk, told him that Souza had taken the day +off and that Pepe and Vicente had been called up with the reserves. He +gave Hall a list of numbers where he might possibly find Pepe. Hall +finally reached him at the Transport Workers' Union. "Can you eat with +me tonight?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Where are you? Our officers just handed us our new orders. I am to +be your driver and Emilio your guard."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Sergeants Delgado and Vicente at your orders, sir."</p> + +<p>"Is this official?"</p> + +<p>Pepe laughed heartily. "Official," he said. "We can show you our +orders."</p> + +<p>"I am at Gonzales'. Can you pick me up now?"</p> + +<p>"At once."</p> + +<p>The sergeants were there in fifteen minutes. Pepe now drove an Army car +whose color matched his uniform. They drove to the University for Jerry.</p> + +<p>Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling the city, guarding both the Axis +diplomatic buildings and the commercial houses owned by known fascists. +The streets were crowded with civilians. They hung around the cafés, +listening to the latest election bulletins over the café radios, or they +congregated under the government's loud speakers in the plazas and the +broad avenues. Even though Gamburdo had already conceded his defeat, the +people awaited the results of each new count, cheered each new electoral +repudiation of the Falange candidate. Everywhere the sidewalks, the +gutters, the doorways of stores and buildings were littered with whole +or tattered copies of the leaflets exposing Gamburdo and Ansaldo.</p> + +<p>"We gave them a licking they won't forget so quickly," Pepe chortled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but they are still alive, Pepe. They took a licking in the last +Spanish elections, too."</p> + +<p>"<i>De nada</i>," Vicente said, grimly. "Let them try to make a second +Spanish War in our Republic. We'll drown them in their own blood."</p> + +<p>Jerry was waiting for them on the University steps. "Matt, it was +amazing. Translate for me, will you? I think Pepe and Vicente would like +to know, too. As soon as the word was flashed to the wards that +Lavandero won the election, the serious cases started to pull through, +and the others are just about ready to dance. I've never seen anything +like it!"</p> + +<p>Duarte joined them as they were finishing their soup. He was pale and +upset. "The Axis got the news pretty quickly," he said. He picked up a +bottle of brandy, poured a half tumbler and downed it in a gulp.</p> + +<p>"For Christ's sake, what happened, Felipe?"</p> + +<p>"The Nazis," he said. "This afternoon, a few minutes after Gamburdo +quit, a Nazi submarine deliberately sank one of the Republic's unarmed +freighters. It happened less than thirty miles from where we're sitting. +That isn't all. The ship had time to wireless for help before she sank. +And the Nazis waited until the rescue boats had picked up the survivors +before they surfaced again and sank each of the boats with their deck +guns."</p> + +<p>"When did you find out?"</p> + +<p>"Hours ago. I kept quiet because I wanted to make sure about Souza. Now +it's been confirmed. He was on one of the rescue boats. He is dead."</p> + +<p>"Why, the dirty ..."</p> + +<p>"Wait, Mateo. There is something else. Don't go. You had a call from +Radio City in New York. They want you to broadcast to America at ten +o'clock tonight. The Siglo station has the hook-up here."</p> + +<p>The clock on the Bolivar dining-room wall read eight-thirty. "I'd better +go right over," Hall said. "Eat and wait for me here, Felipe. Don't +bother to drive me, Pepe. I'll walk. It's less than two blocks. Have +some more brandy."</p> + +<p>"I'm going with you," Jerry said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"<i>Come in, San Hermano ...</i>" Over the long-wave from Radio City.</p> + +<p>The station announcer gave Hall his signal. Hall mopped his face with +his sleeve, glanced at his notes. "For a few hours this afternoon here +in San Hermano," he said into the microphone, "most of us believed that +virtue is its own reward, that the truth by itself is the most powerful +weapon in the hands of a democracy.</p> + +<p>"At three o'clock this afternoon, the fascist candidate for the +presidency of this Republic conceded defeat in an election marked by the +dramatic revelation of his ties with the Falange in Madrid and the Nazis +in Berlin. There was no bloodshed, no disturbances. Democracy had scored +a bloodless victory in San Hermano.</p> + +<p>"For thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds, the elections remained a +triumph for the ideals of the late president, Anibal Tabio, a man in the +traditions of our own Abraham Lincoln. It was Tabio's life-long belief +that 'Ye shall know the truth and it shall make you free.' But Tabio, +like the leaders of the last Spanish Republic, placed too much faith in +the power of good and decency and progress and had too little fear of +the fascist powers of evil abroad in this world.</p> + +<p>"At exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds after the fascist +Gamburdo conceded the elections to his Popular-Front opponent, the +people of this Republic learned that the world has grown much smaller +since Lincoln declared that no nation could exist half slave and half +free. Today what Lincoln had to say about one nation goes for one world. +This one world, our one world, is now torn by a global war. It is a +total war. The people of this democracy struck at the Axis today by +overwhelmingly defeating the Axis candidate at the polls. It took the +Axis exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds to answer the +democratic people of this free nation. The answer was delivered by the +torpedoes and deck guns of a Nazi submarine lurking thirty miles from +the docks of this port...."</p> + +<p>He talked on, glancing at the station clock frequently. There was a lot +he wanted to cram into his fifteen minutes. If possible, he hoped, he +would be able to get in a few words about the big feature story on the +front page of the bulldog edition of <i>El Imparcial</i>.</p> + +<p>It was a long and lachrymose account of how Mexico was suffering because +the food of the nation was being rushed to the American armed forces and +how the war had forced inflation and shortages on that suffering +Catholic country whose people had no quarrel with Hitler and no love for +the Godless Stalin.</p> + +<p>The red sweep-second hand raced Hall through his account of this story. +"It is no accident that this piece of Axis propaganda should be featured +on page one of the nation's leading pro-Franco paper tomorrow," he said. +"This is the Falange line for Latin America. This is the unnecessary +acid the Axis is preparing to inject into the very real wounds Latin +America is suffering and will suffer from this total war."</p> + +<p>The announcer standing at the other microphone drew his hand in front of +his own throat. Hall's time was up.</p> + +<p>Jerry rushed into the studio from the anteroom, where she had been +listening to the talk over the studio radio. She kissed him, took his +hand as they went downstairs and into the narrow street which led to the +Plaza de la Republica. "Where do we go from here, Matt?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"God alone knows. Let's get married tomorrow. That's one thing we'd +better do while we still have a chance. I used to think I belonged in +the army. The army doctors rejected me for combat service; I'm too +banged up. Twice I tried to get into Intelligence, the first time before +Pearl Harbor. They wouldn't touch me with a fork. Saturday, Colonel +Barrows hinted that they were less squeamish about accepting +anti-fascists into G-2. He hinted that maybe I could get an Intelligence +commission."</p> + +<p>"I'll go in as a nurse if they accept you, Matt."</p> + +<p>"That's a big <i>if</i>, baby. But if they don't, we can go on fighting the +fascists in our own way. We won't get Legion pins and ribbons and +bonuses after it's all over, and the only uniforms we'll ever get to +wear will be decoy outfits like the one I wore when I left Havana. But +the fight will be the same, and the enemy will be the same. And we won't +have to worry about getting stuck on an inactive front. We can pick our +fronts.</p> + +<p>"When it's all over, we'll go to Spain and we'll spit on Franco's grave +and I'll show you where a great man named Antin died and where a kid +lieutenant named Rafael killed fourteen fascists with one gun and we'll +walk down the Puerta del Sol in Madrid with the most wonderful people +I've ever known—what's left of them—and we'll dandle black-eyed +Spanish kids on our knees until our guts begin to ache for kids of our +own and then we'll make a kid of our own and fly back so he'll be born +in Ohio like his folks and grow up to be a good anti-fascist President +or at least an intelligent American Ambassador to San Hermano. Ah, I'm +talking like a fool, baby, talking like a drunk in a swank bar off +Sutton Place."</p> + +<p>The loud speakers on the lamp posts of the Plaza suddenly came alive.</p> + +<p>"Attention, everyone! Attention!"</p> + +<p>"Wait," Matt said. "Something's up."</p> + +<p>"Attention! This is the Mayor of San Hermano speaking. Eduardo Gamburdo, +wanted for the murder of Anibal Tabio, has fled the country. The Cabinet +and a quorum of the legislature, meeting at six o'clock tonight, have +unanimously voted that President-Elect Esteban Lavandero should be sworn +in as President immediately. At ten o'clock tonight, President Lavandero +took his oath of office from the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court in +the Presidencia. I will repeat this announcement. Attention...."</p> + +<p>Hall translated the announcement. "Now Lavandero has been introduced. +I'll translate as he goes along."</p> + +<p>"Citizens, members of the Popular Front parties, members of all +parties," Lavandero began. "This afternoon, at three thirty-five +o'clock, a submarine which has been positively identified as being of +German nationality torpedoed a ship bearing the flag of our Republic +within our national waters. The ship was sunk. The survivors and the men +on the boats which set out from shore to rescue them were shelled by +this submarine. The losses have been enormous. At the last official +count, we had lost over eighty citizens, all victims of fascist +bestiality.</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow, I shall go before the Congress and speak for a declaration of +war against the Axis. Tonight, my first official act has been to promote +Major Diego Segador to the rank of Colonel for outstanding services to +our Republic, and to appoint him Emergency Chief of the Defense of San +Hermano. I have asked Colonel Segador to speak to you now."</p> + +<p>Hall put his arm around Jerry. "The war has come to us," he said. "We +don't have to look for it any longer."</p> + +<p>"Citizens," Segador said. "Our city is in sight of a wolfpack of Nazi +submarines of undetermined size. The lights of our city are therefore at +the service of the fascist enemy. If you are on the streets, go into +your houses, or into the nearest cafés or other buildings. If you are +indoors, put out your lights, wherever you are. In five minutes, the +street lights of the city will be turned off. This announcement is being +recorded, and will be repeated for the next thirty minutes, or as long +as one light remains lit in San Hermano. Our lights are the eyes of the +submarines—we must blind their evil eyes.</p> + +<p>"Soldiers on duty, remain at your posts and await further orders. +Soldiers off duty, report at once to your commanding officer. Sailors +off shore ..."</p> + +<p>They stood together, watching the people hurry off the streets, watching +the lights go out in the lamp posts, in the cafés, in the houses of the +old Plaza. They remained near the loud speaker, listening to the +announcement repeated, listening to the national anthem, listening, +finally, to the dark silences of the night. They remained frozen to the +cobbles of the Plaza de la Republica which had been born in the days of +the empire as the Plaza de Fernando e Isabel and whose cobbles bore the +shadows of the edifices of the Conquistador generations and the Segura +generations and the democratic decade. Monuments of all manners of life +rose in dark, brooding piles on all sides of the Plaza; the slave life +and the life that was half slave and half free and the free life which +now had to fight for its freedom. In the dark Plaza, they could almost +hear the young heart of the city, of the Republic, beating slowly, +steadily, confidently.</p> + +<p>"Darling," she said, "I'm not afraid of anything any more. I'll never be +afraid again."</p> + +<p>"I know," he answered. "That's what this war is about, baby. It's the +war of the people who are not afraid to live their own lives. Let's go +back to the Bolivar, baby. Pepe and Vicente are still expecting us."</p> + +<p>Pepe and Vicente were sitting in their lorry, waiting for them.</p> + +<p>"<i>Compañeros</i>," Pepe said, "Duarte is waiting for you inside. You will +all have to stay at the hotel tonight."</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Pepe."</p> + +<p>"We have to go back to our barracks," Vicente said. "We are called."</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>compañeros</i>," Pepe said. His uniform looked less strange on him +in the blackout. "We cracked the thick skull of the Falange today, +<i>compañeros</i>, but the black heart is still pumping."</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE ARROWS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 35904-h.txt or 35904-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/9/0/35904">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/0/35904</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Five Arrows + + +Author: Allan Chase + + + +Release Date: April 19, 2011 [eBook #35904] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE ARROWS*** + + +E-text prepared by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Transcriber's note: + + Extensive research indicates the copyright on this book + was not renewed. + + + + + +THE FIVE ARROWS + +by + +ALLAN CHASE + + + + + + + +Random House - New York + + + + +_Chapter one_ + + +The governor's wife pointed across the bay to a speck in the black sky. +Ground lights in Catanzas were focusing their blue shafts on the speck, +moving as the plane moved, one light trying to lead the ship. + +A thin stream of glowing red and orange tracer bullets soared up at the +plane from the Catanzas side of the bay. A moment passed before the +Governor's guests on the terrace of La Fortaleza could hear the muffled +thud-thud of the distant ground batteries. Someone, the wife of a +visiting government official, exclaimed, "My goodness, I've only seen +this in the newsreels before!" + +Now the plane veered, slowly, and the lights from the San Juan side +joined the Catanzas batteries in pinning the plane to the dark clouds. +The sleeve target fastened to the tail of the plane could now be seen +from the terrace. Most of the Governor's guests gasped as the first +bright jets of tracers missed the silver sleeve and sailed into the +black void above it. The ack-ack batteries were speaking with more +harshness now; one of them, planted between two brick buildings, added +crashing echoes to their own reports as the guns went off. + +The bombing of Pearl Harbor was still very much a topic of conversation +on the island; the submarine nets in the bay were joked about at the +dinner table, but the jokes arose from a profound sense of gratitude for +the nets, the planes, the ships which were the island's defenses against +the undersea raiders that stalked the sea lanes between the ports of the +mainland and San Juan. + +The plane shifted course again, now headed directly toward La Fortaleza. +Through the increasing din of the ground guns, the Governor's young +military aide, Lieutenant Braga, could barely hear the ring of the +telephone nearest the terrace. He took the call, then returned to the +terrace and tapped one of the guests on the shoulder. "It's for you, Mr. +Hall," he said. "It's Tom Harris at Panair." + +Matthew Hall stood up quietly and walked into the cavernous reception +room. He walked carefully, with the steel-spring tread of a man who +seems to expect the floor to blow up under him at any moment. For +thirty-three years Matthew Hall had walked as other men. Since he was +not conscious of his new walk, he could not say when it had become part +of him. His friends had first noticed it in Paris, in '39, but had +expected it to wear off as soon as the prison pallor disappeared. The +pallor had gone; the walk remained. + +Hall's head and shoulders and hands were part of this walk. He moved +with his head forward and his shoulders hunched, with his hands slightly +cocked, almost like a fighter slowly advancing to mid-ring. The +shoulders were broad and thick, so broad that although Hall was of more +than average height they made him appear shorter and chunky. + +The face of Matthew Hall had changed, too, with his walk. There were the +obvious changes: the deep channel of a scar on his broad forehead, the +smaller one on his right jaw. The nose had changed twice, the first time +in 1938 when it was broken in San Sebastian. It had swelled enormously +and then knit badly and nearly two years later a New York surgeon had +done an expensive job of rebreaking and resetting the nose. Some bones +had been taken out and the once classic lines were now slightly +flattened. The scars and the dented nose blended strangely well with the +jaws that had always been a bit too long and the soft brown poet's eyes +which had so often betrayed Hall. With his eyes, Hall spoke his +contempt, his anger, his amusement, his joy. The eyes unerringly spoke +his inner feelings; they were always beyond his control. + +Changes more subtle than the scars and the flattened nose had come over +Hall's face within the past few years. It now had a queer, angry cast. +His lips seemed to be set in a new and almost permanent grimace of +bitterness. Also the right side of his face, the cheek and the mouth, +had a way of twitching painfully when Hall was bothered and upset. And +yet, as Governor Dickenson had already noted, Hall was not a completely +embittered man. More often than not, his eyes would light up with a look +of amused irony, the look of a man much moved by an immense private joke +he would be glad to share with his friends if he but knew how to tell it +properly. + +When Hall had risen to leave the terrace, the Governor noticed that his +cheek was twitching, but once he was alone in the reception room, away +from the sight of the tracers and the target plane, Hall's face grew +calm again. He sat down in the green armchair near the phone, picked up +the receiver. "Yes, Tom," he said, "any luck?" + +"Sure. I busted open a seat for you on the San Hermano plane for +tomorrow at six." + +"Was it much trouble, Tom?" + +"Not much." Tom Harris laughed. "We had to throw Giselle Prescott off to +make room for you. Know her?" + +"God, no! But thanks a lot." + +"I'll pick you up in the morning then. Good night, Matt." + +Hall put the receiver back on the cradle. He sat back in the soft chair, +oblivious of the crashing guns, the hum of the plane's engines, the +others on the terrace. Only one thing was in his mind now--San Hermano. + +It was some time before the young Puerto Rican lieutenant slipped +gingerly into the room. "Mr. Hall," he said, softly, "everything O.K.?" + +Hall smiled warmly. "My God," he asked, "you don't think the guns drove +me in here?" + +The officer blushed. "Fix you a drink?" he asked. + +Hall shook his head, drew two Havanas from his jacket. "No, thanks. +Cigar? It's from the one box I remembered to buy in Havana." + +The boy was a non-smoker. He lit a match for Hall, waited until the +older man relaxed with the burning cigar. Politely, he said, "I know +you've been through plenty, Mr. Hall. I'm a soldier, but if ..." + +"Plenty? Me?" + +The lieutenant nodded. "_The Revenger_," he said, hesitantly. "I--I read +your book." + +"Oh, that," Hall said. "_The Revenger_." So _The Revenger_ was plenty! + +"If there's anything I can get you ..." + +The boy's voice seemed to come from far away and Hall realized that he +himself was staring into space and that the lieutenant must have sat +there for a full minute waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry," he said. +"I'm really sorry. I guess I just get this way once in a while." + +"It's my fault," Braga protested. "I should have known how hard it must +be for you to talk about--it." + +"_De nada_," Hall laughed. "I made a lecture tour last year and spent +five nights a week talking about it for months. It's just that +I'm--well, that I just catch myself staring at nothing at the craziest +times. Maybe I do need that drink. What's in the shaker there--Daiquiri? +Good." He poured two Daiquiris from the jar on the sideboard, handed one +to the lieutenant. "I know you don't drink, either," he said. "But I'm +having this drink to toast victory--and you're a soldier." + +When they touched glasses, the boy saw that amused look in Hall's eyes, +the look he had seen earlier at the dinner table when one of the +visiting officials had expressed such innocent amazement at the enormity +of his first taxi bill in San Juan. "I'd better go back out there when I +finish this drink," he said. "I'm glad nothing's wrong with you." + +"You're a right guy, Lieutenant. Thanks for looking in." Hall returned +to his chair as the boy walked out to the terrace. So _The Revenger_ was +plenty! And the kid, how old was he? Twenty? Not a day more. Which made +him eighteen when the Nazi torpedo planes peeled off over the African +skies and then roared in to send their tin fish into the guts of His +Majesty's own _Revenger_. Which made him fourteen when the fighting +began, fourteen when the German pilot officers clicked their heels and +mouthed the new phrase "_Arriba Espana_" and flew the Moors from Spanish +Morocco to the mainland and touched off the shooting stages of World War +II. "_Ay, Teniente_," he muttered, "you've made me feel old as hell. +Older." + +Hall leaned back in his chair, tried to blow a series of smoke rings. He +thought: But I'm not old. I've just seen things and done things and had +things done to me. I'm not old at all. + + * * * * * + +After years of anonymity in various city rooms in the States, a brief +turn as a byline correspondent in Washington, a still briefer career as +a Broadway playwright, Matthew Hall had drawn an assignment as +third-string man for the World Press in Paris. That was in 1935, when he +was crowding thirty. The job had introduced him to Europe, and carried +him to Geneva, to Belgrade, to Bucharest, to Stockholm. Paris was the +journalistic capital of the Continent; when things happened outside of +Paris, it was a Paris man who was sent to the scene to cover. There he +would find that the office had adequate coverage in the permanent man, +and if he had any curiosity or craftsman's pride he would try to get the +story behind the story. Hall had both. They led him to the strange +half-world of tipsters, hounded opposition leaders, minor officials of +ministries who would talk and produce documents for a fee, candid and +cynical free-lance agents, wise old frightened politicians who sensed +the coming catastrophe in their bones, correct and stiff Nazi advance +agents and politely lavish native fascists who mixed queer brews for +foreign correspondents. They were the _sources close to a key ministry, +the influential elder statesmen, the prominent industrialists whose +names cannot be used_ who figured so prominently in the inside-Europe +dispatches of the era. + +July, 1936, had found Hall in Nice spending a long week-end as the guest +of a prominent refugee banker from Germany. The banker was the "inside" +prophet of the month in Parisian newspaper circles. His gospel was the +slightly shopworn one about German industry being fed up with Hitler and +willing to settle on Goering, Danzig and a few worthless colonies in +Africa as the price for eliminating the "extreme Nazis" and returning to +the family of Europe. "He's a damned Nazi himself," Hall had declared +when the invitation reached his office, but the bureau manager was +missing no bets. "I don't care what he is, Matt. He's a story. He's +news. He's what they want to read about in Washington and in London and +in Paris." + +Hall never wrote his story on the refugee banker (who later turned up as +a Nazi economist overlord in Denmark). On a blistering Sunday Paris had +called him by phone. Hell was popping in Madrid. The regular Madrid man +was vacationing in the States. "Get to Madrid, Matt. Looks like you'll +be busy there for a couple of weeks until it blows over." + +Like many of his American colleagues, Hall traveled to Madrid during +that first week of the war with the idea that in less than a month one +side or another would have been installed in power and he himself would +be back in Paris listening to the latest faker peddling the newest line +of disguised Nazism from Berlin. But Hall was an honest man. What he saw +interested and then intrigued and then enraged him. "This is no Spanish +Civil War," he wrote to the Paris office in a confidential memo sent by +courier. "This is the start of the second World War. It's the Germans +and the Italians against the Spaniards. Maybe I'm crazy, but it looks to +me like the British and the French are backing the fascists, while the +Russians are trying to help the Republicans. How about sending someone +in to cover the shooting for a week while I write a big story along +these lines?" + +He was answered in due time. "Stick to the military conflict between the +Nationalists and the Loyalists. And don't send us any Red propaganda." + +That was in October, when Caballero was preparing to quit Madrid in +panic, and the Fifth Army was calmly preparing to hold the city, +Caballero or no Caballero. Hall had long since lost his magnificent WP +objectivity. Through the open mails he sent a letter of resignation to +Paris. Antin in the Censura held the letter up, sent for Hall. The +Spaniard hemmed and hawed and cleared his throat a dozen times and then +he got up from his desk and embraced Hall and told him to sit down. +Hall's Spanish was pretty good by then, good enough for Antin to speak +to him in fluent Spanish rather than halting English. "The English I can +read with my eyes. The Spanish I speak with my heart." + +Was it that Hall was resigning because he loved the Republic? Yes, I +guess you could call it that. (You could also call it a good craftsman's +stubborn ideas about how to cover a war, but you didn't.) Did Hall +realize that, if he quit, an enemy of the Republic might be sent to take +his place? No, Hall didn't think. Come to think of it, though, the +office had Cavanaugh and Raney available and those two Jew-haters and +Mussolini-lovers would be no friends of the Republic. You are a friend, +a _companero_, it is right that you know. We have so many problems with +the foreign press. McBain from New York, we know he is a spy, he has +links with the Falange. If we arrest him, the world hollers Red Terror. +So we watch him, keep all his letters, hold up his cables. Thank God he +is a drunkard; two SIM men keep him drunk most of the time. Maybe his +office will fire him. You are a friend. You write the truth. Even a +little truth by a friend whose editor chops up his cables helps the +Republic. + +Hall tore up his letter of resignation. When the Republic captured +thousands of Italians after Guadalajara and Bruejega, Hall filed long +stories based on interviews with the Blackshirts. When the Republic +captured Nazi Condor officers and men at Belchite, Hall sent photographs +of their documents to Paris with his stories. + +New York kicked, and Paris warned Hall repeatedly. Finally Paris +transferred him to the Franco side. That was at the end of '38, when the +Republicans had seen their hopes dashed at Munich and the only thing +that kept them going was the feeling that they could hold out until the +Nazi Frankenstein finally turned on London and Paris. "Then France will +have to rush arms and maybe a few divisions to us and the British fleet +will have to patrol the Mediterranean and the Russian planes, unable to +get through now, will be able to come in through France and through the +Mediterranean." Antin figured it out that way, told it to Hall the week +before some nice clean crusaders for Christianity let him have it with a +tommy gun in the back in a Barcelona cafe. + +The Falangistas were very glad to have Hall behind their lines. Their +friends pulled some wires in New York and Washington and, after two +months, Hall was fired, but by then his notebook was growing thicker and +he elected to stay as a free lance. He was seeing the face of fascism +for the first time, he wrote, and seeing it at close range. He would +stay, job or no job. He stayed, and the Gestapo in San Sebastian wrote +out an order and a rat-faced little aristocrat with an embroidered gold +yoke and arrows on his cape was studying Hall's notes and smirking like +a villain in a bad movie. + +There were no charges and no explanations. They just slapped Hall into a +cell in solitary, and once a day they handed him a bucket for slops and +once a day he got a chunk of bread or a thin chick-pea stew. In the +beginning he had hollered for the American consul, but the German guard +would grin and say, "_No entiendo Espanol, Ich sprech kein Englisch_," +and finally Hall just settled down to waiting for the end of the war. + +Every now and then a smooth German major would have him brought out for +questioning; that scar on his head and the scar on his chin were grim +mementos of those sessions. The Spaniards were bad but the Germans were +worse. The Italians were just hysterical. There was the day the Italian +officer made the mistake of getting too close and Hall clipped him with +a weak right hook. The Blackshirt screamed like a woman and clung to his +eye; that was when they tied him to the wall and let him have it with +the steel rods on his back. + +And then, in April, the Republic keeled over in its own blood and the +fascists decided to be generous to celebrate their victory. The Axis was +now openly boasting that it had run the Spanish show; the worst that +Hall could do would be to play into their hands by writing about how +tough fascism was on any man fool enough to oppose the New Order. They +were generous, they were fair. They gave him a practically new suit of +clothes, they returned his three hundred odd dollars, they even returned +his notebook with nearly all of its original notes. + +Hall went to Paris. He spent a week soaking in warm baths and eating and +avoiding the WP crowd. During the week he cabled a New York book +publisher he had met in Madrid in '36, when he had joined a group of +American intellectuals attending an anti-fascist congress. He offered to +turn out a book on his experiences as a correspondent and a prisoner in +Franco Spain. It was a week before he got an answer, but the answer came +with a draft of five hundred dollars. + +The swelling had gone down in his nose by then, but he still had to +breathe through his mouth. A doctor who'd looked at it wanted a hundred +bucks for operating, but it meant two weeks of doing nothing but getting +fixed up, and Hall hated to wait. "Later," he said, "later, when I +finish my book." + +He poured his notes and his guts into the book, and finished it in a +month. When he was done he borrowed some money from a friend in the +Paramount office and got a Clipper seat to New York. + +His publisher, Bird, liked the book and rushed it to press. He also gave +Hall another five hundred and sent him to his own doctor to have his +nose fixed up. + +It was a good book, perhaps good enough to justify Bird's gamble, only +it reached the critics three weeks after the Nazi panzer divisions were +ravaging Poland and the smart boys in Paris were wearing smarter +correspondents' uniforms and filing fulsome stories on the genius of +Gamelin and Weygand. "We'll have to face it, Matt," Bird said, "no one +but you and I give a damn about Spain right now. I'm taking back copies +left and right from the booksellers. No, the hell with the advances. The +war's far from over. You'll do another book for me, and we'll make it +all up." + +Through Bird, Hall got a job as a war correspondent for a Chicago paper. +They shipped him to London, where he stewed in his own juices for +months, and then to Cairo to join the fleet. Hall was assigned to the +_Revenger_ and, when the Nazis sank her, he spent some three days on a +raft with a handful of survivors. One of them died of his wounds on the +raft, and another went raving mad and slit his own throat with the top +of a ration tin. + +Hall filed a story on the experience when he was brought back to Cairo, +and Bird cabled "That's your new book." It was an easy book to write. He +took a room at Shepheard's and pounded it out in three weeks. The +British censors liked it as "a tribute to British grit" and arranged for +a captain attached to a military mission bound for Washington by plane +to deliver the manuscript personally to Bird. The story was still hot +when the script reached New York. Bird sold the serial rights to a big +national weekly that same day for thirty thousand dollars. A lecture +agency cabled offering a guarantee of a fantastic sum for a three-month +lecture tour. A book club chose _The Revenger_, the critics sang its +praises, and Bird bought himself a house in the country. + +Hall quit his job and made the lecture tour and wound up with a fat bank +account and a permanent appreciation of the value of a chance plop in +the ocean. For the first time in his life, he found himself with enough +money to do exactly what he wanted to do. The Army doctors had shown him +to the nearest door, but he had offers from magazines and syndicates to +return to the war zones, and the radio wanted him as a commentator. + +It was Bird who first learned of Hall's new plans. And Bird understood. +"The Spanish War was round one," Hall told him. "South America was one +of the stakes. The Falange had an organization in the Latin countries. +The Heinies used to brag about it to me in San Sebastian. I'm going to +South America to see it for myself. Maybe there's a book in it, maybe +there isn't. I can afford to find out." + +Cuba had been the first stop on this odyssey. There Hall had had some +tough sledding, met some Spanish Republicans who knew him from Madrid, +won the aid of a group of young Cuban officials and written two angry +and documented magazine pieces. + +From Havana, Hall had flown to Puerto Rico. + +Hall had stopped thinking. The reverie into which the lieutenant had +plunged him passed into a rapt consideration of the imperfect smoke +rings he was blowing toward the ceiling. + +Dickenson joined him. "Well?" he asked. "Is it San Hermano tomorrow?" + +"I'm afraid so, Dick." + +"I'm sorry to see you leave. We figured you'd stay for at least a month. +What's so urgent in San Hermano?" + +"That's what I mean to find out. All I know is what I read in the +papers." He handed the Governor two copies of the San Hermano +_Imparcial_ he had found on a library table in the reception room while +having a cocktail before dinner. They were the papers which had made him +call Harris at Panair. + +The first issue was three weeks old. It described the visit of an +American Good-Will Commission to San Hermano, and told how the mission +was received by Enrique Gamburdo, the Vice-President, rather than by +Anibal Tabio, the President. In an oblique manner, the story went on to +deny the "widespread rumor" that Tabio had deliberately insulted the +Americans by not receiving them personally. + +"I don't like the way they denied the rumor," Hall said. "I know that +the paper is _imparcial_ on the fascist side only." + +The other edition of _Imparcial_ was three days old. It was the latest +copy available. It carried as its lead story the news that since Tabio's +illness had taken a drastic turn for the worse, Gamburdo had prevailed +upon a great Spanish doctor, Varela Ansaldo, to fly from Philadelphia to +San Hermano in an attempt to save the President's life. + +"And?" the Governor asked. + +"I'm not sure. But it looks to me like a deliberate attempt to lay a +smelly egg in Tabio's nest. Anyway, I did a little checking with Harris. +I figured I'd be able to meet Ansaldo's plane, and I was right. The San +Hermano Clipper overnights in San Juan, you know. Ansaldo is sleeping at +the Escambrun tonight. Tomorrow we'll board the ship for San Hermano +together." + +"I still don't get it, Matt. Do you know this Ansaldo?" + +"No. But he's evidently been invited to San Hermano by Gamburdo. And I +found out a few things about Gamburdo in Havana," Hall said. "Some +top-ranking Falange chiefs in the Americas always spoke highly of him in +their letters. Especially the letters marked confidential." + +"There you go again!" + +"Don't. You know I'm not crazy." + +"But Matt, neither is Gamburdo crazy. He wouldn't dare do what you're +implying." + +"Maybe. But I'm not thinking of Gamburdo as much as I am of Tabio. I +like Anibal Tabio, like him a lot. I met him for the first time in +Geneva in '35, when he was Foreign Minister. Then I met him again in +'36, when he and Vayo and Litvinov were hammering away at the fat cats +backing Franco. He was a real guy, Dick. One of the few statesmen alive +who not only knew that the earth is round but also that the people on +this round earth like to eat and wear decent clothes and send their kids +to college. + +"I remember how in '37, after Halifax yawned all through his speech and +then led the rest of the delegates in voting against Vayo's proposals, +Tabio sat down with me in a little bar and ordered a light beer and told +me very quietly that this was his cue. 'I must go home,' he told me, +'and see that it doesn't happen to my country.' That's how he pulled up +his stakes and went back to San Hermano and ran for President." + +"He's good, Matt. I know that." + +"He's damn good. He's the best of the anti-fascist leaders on the +Continent right now, Dick. He deserves all the help he isn't getting +from us." + +The Governor put the paper down with a sigh. "I'll tell you a secret, +Matt," he said. "But it's really secret. You know that there's going to +be a Pan-American conference on foreign policy in Havana in five weeks. +Well, some of the smarter heads in Washington are getting worried. We're +sending a delegation to the conference to ask all the nations down here +to break with the Axis. And some of us are afraid that if Tabio +is--well, not able to pick the San Hermano delegation, his government +will remain neutral." + +Hall stood up and began pacing between the couch and the chair. He +pulled out a large white handkerchief and mopped the sweat on his face, +his neck, his quivering hands. "God damn them all to hell," he said, +"they're moving in on us in our own backyard and when you try to say a +word in Washington they spit in your eye and tell you Franco is a +neutral and a friend." + +Dickenson drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly and audibly. "What's it all +about, Matt?" he asked, softly. "Where does San Hermano come in?" + +"I don't know a mucking thing yet. All I know is that it stinks to high +heaven. Listen, Dick, I'm not crazy. You know that. In Washington they +act as if I'm crazy or worse when I try to tell them." Hall put his hand +to the twitching right side of his face as if to keep it still. His +outburst had completely dried his throat. He went to the sideboard, +threw some ice cubes into a giant glass, poured soda over the ice. + +The Governor watched him swallow the contents in huge gulps. "Better sit +down, Matt," he said. "You'll blow a valve." + +"I'm all right," he said. He put the glass down on the floor, ran the +handkerchief over his neck. "There's one thing I do know, and it's +killing me. I know the Falange is in this. It's all I have to know. I +remember reading a fascist paper in jail in San Sebastian. There was a +big map on the back page, a map showing Spain as the center of the +Spanish World. An artist had superimposed the five arrows of the Falange +over the face of Spain. The article under the map said that while one of +the arrows pointed to Madrid, two pointed to the Philippines and the +others pointed to Latin America. They weren't kidding, Dick. When the +Japs marched into Manila they decorated the Philippine Falange for the +fifth-column job the Falangistas performed for Hirohito. And there are +twenty Falangist cells in Latin America for every one cell they had in +Manila on December 6, 1941. + +"And why not, Dick? It's the Germans who've always run the Falange. +Today they run Spain. And they also run the Exterior Falange set-up. +Maybe Falangismo as a philosophy is phony as all hell, and maybe its +creed of Hispanidad, with all its blah about Latin America returning to +the Spanish Empire, is just as phony. Maybe it doesn't make sense to us +gringos. I'll grant that. But it is a nice Nazi horse on the dumb +Spanish aristocrats who do Hitler's dirty work in the Americas. In +German hands it's one of the dynamics of this war. I've seen it in +operation, and I know. It's the gimmick that makes rich Spaniards fuel +and hide submarines in the Caribbean--you know that for a fact yourself. +It's the new amalgam which makes 'em look to Holy Mother Spain as the +core of a new empire, it's ..." + +"But granting all this, Matt, why must you go to San Hermano?" + +Hall swallowed some soda. He put the glass back on the floor, grabbed +the San Hermano _Imparcial_ from the Governor's hands. Slowly, he +crushed the paper and held it in front of Dickenson's face. "Do you know +who publishes _El Imparcial_?" he asked. "I'll tell you. It's a fascist +named Fernandez. In San Sebastian, during the war, he strutted all over +town in a Falange officer's uniform browning his nose with all the +top-ranking lice, the Germans, the Italians, the Franco crowd. He was +there for months, making radio speeches and public appearances and +getting cramps in the right arm from holding it up in the stiff-arm +salute. I saw him a dozen times, if I saw him once." + +"Jose Fernandez? I met him at a conference in Rio. He seemed like a +pleasant enough chap," the Governor said. + +"They're all pleasant. They can afford to be. You never met Ribbentrop +and Otto Abetz, Dick. They were the most charming men in Europe before +the war. But listen, last week in Havana I looked at a collection of +pictures taken from the files of the chief of the Falange delegation for +the Americas. There was one picture of a banquet held by the Falange in +San Hermano late in 1936. It was a secret affair, only insiders and +leaders. And there, on the dais, was Licenciado Enrique Gamburdo, big as +life." + +"Gamburdo!" + +"Sure. It was a secret affair, all right. Not a word in the papers, and +everyone present sworn to secrecy by a Bishop who was among the honored +guests." Hall dried the sweat on his hands again. "But always at these +affairs there's a man with a camera. Usually he's a Gestapo Heinie. +Sometimes he's a Gestapo Spaniard or even a Gestapo Latin-American. A +picture, just one picture, has to be made. It goes to the German consul +or the Falange chief of the country and they have to forward it to the +Ibero-American Institute in Berlin. The pictures back up the reports, +you see, and, besides, when you have a picture of a deacon trucking with +a doxie in a bordello it's a good thing to threaten to show the deacon's +wife if the deacon decides to return to the paths of righteousness." + +"But are you sure, Matt?" + +"I'm a good reporter. My job is to remember unimportant things, and to +remember them well when they become important. If I'm wrong, I'll find +out for myself in San Hermano." + +The Governor accepted one of Hall's cigars. "God," he said, "I hope +you're wrong, Matt." + +Later, back in his hotel room, Hall stripped to his shorts, ran cold +water over his wrists and the back of his neck. He poured some Haitian +rum into a glass, drenched it with soda from the pink-and-green night +table. + +Outside, in the darkness, four boys were playing tag. Hall listened to +the whispered padding of their bare feet as they flew from cobblestones +to trolley tracks. He went to the wrought-iron balcony, stood there +watching the undersized kids chasing each other up and down the narrow +street. Two freighters rode at anchor in the harbor, their gray noses +pointing at the pink Customs House. A soldier lurched down the street, +barely missing the feet of an old _jibaro_ sleeping in the doorway of a +dark store. + +Hall returned to the desk. He wrote a short note to a friend in a +government bureau in Havana--merely to say that he was leaving for San +Hermano and that for the time being could be reached in care of Pan +American Airways there--and a similar note to Bird. He decided to let +his other letters wait until he reached San Hermano. + +The kids who were playing tag disappeared. The only noise which broke +the silence of the night now was the soft pounding of the presses in the +newspaper plant up the street. Hall sealed his letters and started to +pack his bags. + +The four boys reappeared with a whoop. They carried freshly printed +magazines this time, and, as they ran down the street, first one then +another took up the mournful cry: "_Puerto Rico Ilustrado! +Il-us-traaa-dooohhh!_" They were no longer to be seen when Hall ran out +to the balcony to look. + +He took a cold shower, then lit one of his Havanas. The mosquito net +which completely covered his bed annoyed him. He put out the light in +order not to see the bars of the net frame. Silently, he railed against +the sugar planters and their kept politicos for leaving the island prey +to malaria. He had to remind himself that the net was his protection +against malaria before he could crawl under the frame, but even then he +climbed into bed with a cigar in his mouth. + +The cigar was his protection, his secret weapon, against the +claustrophobia the _mosquitero_ gave him. There were no cigars in +Franco's prisons, no cigars and no cool sheets and coiled spring +mattresses, no soft breezes floating in from a harbor as ancient as the +Conquistadores. + +He lay under the net, naked and uncovered, blowing smoke rings at the +cross bars above him. He thought of Anibal Tabio in Geneva, thin as a +reed, his slender hand pointing to the pile of German and Italian +documents del Vayo had brought to the League. He thought of Tabio and he +thought of his three years in Spain and, thinking, he got worked up all +over again. + +It was not easy to think of the months of being trapped like an animal +in a cage, of being pushed around by smirking men who had the guns, of +watching the metal inkstand in the hands of the German major the second +before it crashed into his own face. No, it was not easy, and the memory +of San Sebastian led to the scarlet memory of the afternoon on the +Malecon in Havana less than a month ago when Sanchez had pointed out to +him two leaders of the Falange at a cafe table and he started out to +bash their heads together right then and there. Luis and Felix had had +to grab him and wrestle him to the sidewalk, laughing and playing at +being just three jolly boys who'd had a drink too much instead of two +Spanish Republicans keeping a frenzied American from killing two men +they detested and would gladly have killed themselves. + +Hall sat up, shaking, covered with sweat. He crawled out of bed, stood +barefooted on the tiled floor. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness +came over him. He was lonely in his person, lonelier still in his +inability to make any of his own people understand the gnawing hates and +fears which had taken him first to Havana and then to San Juan and +now--_quien sabe_? And then, realizing with an amused start that he was +thinking in Spanish, he tore the net off the bed, threw the cigar away, +and went to sleep. + + + + +_Chapter two_ + + +Dr. Varela Ansaldo was traveling with his assistant, a young Dr. Marina, +an American nurse named Geraldine Olmstead, and a Dominican passport. +This much Hall was able to observe at the ground station, before the +passengers for San Hermano and way points boarded the Stratoliner. + +The Dominican passport interested Hall. He knew that the passports were +for sale at an average price of a thousand dollars. Refugees starved and +borrowed and sold their souls to scrape together a thousand dollars for +one of the precious passports. When you met a Spaniard with a new +Dominican passport, you seldom had to ask questions; you knew you were +meeting a man whose life was not worth a nickel in Spain. And yet, in +the day-old issue of _Time_ the Clipper had flown in from Miami, the +biography of Ansaldo carried no hint of the doctor's being in disfavor +with Franco. Nor did the biography mention the physician's Dominican +citizenship. + +Hall read the _Time_ biography again. _Scrupulously impartial during the +Spanish Civil War, Ansaldo took no sides, remaining at his post as a +healer under both nationalist and loyalist flags. With the end of war, +Ansaldo accepted a Chair offered by the Penn Medical Institute in +Philadelphia, assuming new position in October, 1939._ The story went on +to describe some of the new operations Ansaldo had since performed. + +Hall unbuckled his seat belt. He had a single seat on the left of the +plane, the third seat from the front. Ansaldo's nurse had the seat in +front of his. She sat across the aisle from Marina and Ansaldo, who +shared a double seat. Hall sat opposite a pink-cheeked Dutchman of sixty +who shared a seat with a very dark Brazilian. A State Department courier +had the seat in front of the nurse. The other passengers included the +wife of an American Army officer, some Panair officials, two Standard +Oil engineers, and some quiet Latin American government officials on +their way back from Washington. + +Most of the passengers, now that the plane had gained altitude, were +trying to sleep. The little Hollander was wide awake, virtuously and +happily wide awake with the morning heartiness of a man who has been +going to bed and rising early all of his life. He beamed at Hall. "I see +you and I are the only ones who had a good night's sleep, Mr. Hall." +Then, laughing, he explained that he had recognized Hall from the +picture on the jacket of his book before he had even heard his name +announced by the steward on boarding ship. His accent was slight, but +definite. + +"Yesterday," he said, gesturing at Hall's seat, "Miss Prescott--a +charming lady, by the way--and today another American writer. Ah, well, +the damn wheel turns and comes up twice with the same value. Oh, I +forgot. My name is Wilhelm Androtten." + +Hall extended his hand across the aisle, gripped the hand Androtten +offered him. It was a pudgy little hand, soft and white and pink. + +"Yes," Androtten sighed. "I have quite a hell of a story of my own to +tell about enemy actions. I too have been an actor in the drama. But of +course I'm not a writer. Ah no, Mr. Hall," he waved a stiff little index +finger back and forth in front of his glowing face, "I'm not going to +suggest that you write my story. To me it is important as hell. But to +the world? It is not as dramatic as the sinking of the _Revenger_. A +thousand times no!" + +The Hollander pulled an immense old-fashioned silver cigarette case from +the pocket of his brown-linen suit. "Have an American cigarette? Good. +Yes, mine is only the story of how the damn Japanese Army drove a poor +coffee planter off his estates and then out of Java. And that is all, +sir, except that as you may have guessed--I was the planter. Now I am, +so to speak, a real Flying Dutchman, flying everywhere to buy coffee +from the other planters and then flying everywhere to sell it again. But +I try to be jolly as hell and to bear my load like a Dutchman should, +Mr. Hall." + +"That _is_ a story, Mr. Androtten," Hall said. "A real one." The strong +light above the clouds rasped his sleep-hungry eyes. He put on his dark +glasses, leaned his head back against the padded roll of the reclining +chair. + +"Do you really think my story is worth while, Mr. Hall? I would be +honored as hell to tell you the whole story with all the damn facts, if +you desire. I ... Are you getting off at Caracas?" + +"No. I'm sorry. I go all the way through to San Hermano." + +"Good, Mr. Hall. I go to San Hermano myself. Do you know the Monte Azul +bean, sir? It's richer than the Java. A little Monte Azul, a little +Bogota, some choice Brazilians--and you have a roast that will delight +the rarest palates. Yes, San Hermano is my destination. San Hermano and +the damn Monte Azul bean." + +Hall gave up trying to stifle a series of yawns. "I'm sorry," he said. +"I guess I didn't get enough sleep after all." + +"Please sleep," Androtten said. "We'll have plenty of time to talk in +San Hermano." + +"Sure. Plenty of time." Hall opened the collar of his shirt, sank into a +light sleep almost at once. He slept for over an hour, waking when the +Standard Oil engineers in the rear seats laughed at a joke told by the +Army officer's wife. The steady drone of the engines, the continuing +sharpness of the light made remaining awake difficult. Hall closed his +eyes again but there was no sleep. + +Androtten and the Brazilian had found a common tongue, French, and in +the joy of this discovery had also discovered a common subject. The +Brazilian was holding forth on the exotic virtues of one rare coffee, +the huge diamond on his finger ring catching and distributing the light +as he gestured. Androtten was trying to describe the various blends of +Java. + +Hall thought of Ansaldo and Marina and the nurse. Marina was about +thirty, too dapper, too fastidious, his plaid sports jacket fitting too +snugly over his rounded hips. On boarding the plane, the nurse had +brushed against his arm, which he withdrew with a subconscious gesture +of revulsion. Hall watched him now, buffing his nails with a chamois +board. Ansaldo had also awakened, was reading one of the pile of medical +magazines he had carried into the plane. The nurse was a blank, so far. +All he could see of her was the soft roll of strawberry hair. She had a +few faint freckles on her nose and full lips and it was ten to one that +she was from the Midwest. But a blank. + +The older doctor, Ansaldo, was about fifty, and had a stiff correctness +that Hall had noticed immediately in the airport. He wore glasses whose +horn rims were of an exaggerated thickness. His iron-gray hair, cut +short and combed straight back, had an air of almost surgical neatness. +He had the long horse face of an El Greco Cardinal, and behaved even +toward his assistant and his nurse with a detached politeness. Marina's +obvious and fawning devotion to the older man seemed to bounce off +Ansaldo without effect. Hall put him down as an extremely cold fish, but +a cold fish who would bear watching for reasons Hall himself could not +quite define. + +When the plane stopped in Caracas for refueling, Ansaldo, carrying a +thick medical journal with his finger still marking his place, took a +slow walk in the shade, Marina following at his heels like a puppy. Hall +got out and lit a cigar and when he noticed the nurse looking at the +exhibit of rugs and dolls set up in a stand at the edge of the airfield +he walked to her side. "Indian-craft stuff," he said. "If you'd care to, +I'll be your interpreter." + +The girl took off her dark glasses, looked at Hall for a moment, and +then put them on again. "I can't see too well with these darn things," +she laughed. "Do you think I could get a small rug without giving up my +right arm?" + +"Your right arm is safe with me around, Madam. Perhaps you never heard +of me, Madam, but in these parts I'm known as Trader Hall. Matthew +Hall." + +"You're hired. My name is Jerry Olmstead." + +They sauntered over to the stand. The afternoon sun ignited the fires in +her hair. She was taller than most women, and though her white sharkskin +suit was well creased from travel, Hall could see that she had the kind +of full shapely figure which made poolroom loafers whistle and trusted +bank employees forget the percentages against embezzlers. Feature for +feature, Jerry Olmstead's was not the face that would have launched even +a hundred ships. Her forehead was too high, and it bulged a bit. Her +blue eyes were a shade too pale for the frank healthiness of her skin. +Her nose was straight and well shaped, but almost indelicately large. +When she smiled, she displayed two rows of glistening healthy teeth +which were anything but even and yet not uneven enough to be termed +crooked. + +Hall helped her select a small rug, agreed at once to the price asked by +the Indian woman at the stand, and then had a long discussion in Spanish +with the peddler about the state of affairs at the airport before giving +her the money. "You see," he said to Jerry, "unless you bargain with +these Indians, you're bound to get robbed." The rug cost Jerry something +like sixty cents in American money. + +"You'll be able to pick up some wonderful beaten-silver things in San +Hermano," Hall said. "I'd be glad to show you around when we get there. +In the meantime, can I get you a drink?" + +"I'd love one." + +The only drinks for sale in the canteen were cold ginger ale and +lemonade. They had the ginger ale, and Hall learned that this was the +girl's first trip out of the United States. "It's all so different!" she +said, and Hall thought he would grimace but then the girl smiled happily +and he watched the skin wrinkle faintly at the bridge of her nose and he +smiled with her. "You'll like San Hermano," he said. "And I'd like to +show it to you when we get there." + +"Did you spend much time there?" + +"Only a few days. I took a freighter back from Cairo two years ago and +it put in at San Hermano." + +"Say, what do you do, anyway?" Jerry asked. + +"Don't sound so surprised. I'm a newspaperman." + +"Were you a war correspondent?" + +Hall nodded. "I even wrote a book." + +Jerry looked into her glass. "I know it sounds terrible," she said, "but +I haven't read a book in years. Was yours about the war?" + +"Let's talk about it in San Hermano. Do I show you the town?" + +"It's a date." + +"That bell is for us," Hall said. "We'd better get back to the plane." + +They left the canteen. Ansaldo and Marina were still walking in a slow +circle. "Come on," Jerry said. "Meet my boss." + +She approached Ansaldo. "Dr. Ansaldo," she said, "I'd like you to meet +Mr. Matthew Hall. He's a newspaperman from the States. And this is Dr. +Marina. + +"Mr. Hall is showing me around San Hermano when we get there." + +"How nice," Ansaldo said, and from his tone Hall knew that he meant +nothing of the sort. + +"But now we must hurry," Ansaldo said. "The plane is about to depart." +He took Jerry's arm and they walked on ahead of Marina and Hall. + +"Senor Hall, if you are going to write about the doctor's forthcoming +operation," Marina said, "I would gladly help you. The doctor is the +greatest surgeon of our times, perhaps, who knows, of all times. He is +magnificent. In his hands, the scalpel is an instrument of divinity. It +is more, it is divinity itself. I must tell you the story of the +doctor's greatest operations, although all of them are great. I will +help you. You will write a great article about the great operation." + +"I am very grateful to you, doctor. I hope that in San Hermano you will +have enough time to give me your counsel. After you, doctor." Hall took +a last drag at his cigar as Marina climbed the plane ladder. + + * * * * * + +There was a mountain--the Monte Azul which produced the beans of +Androtten's rhapsodies--and a plateau in the clouds and below the +plateau lay the ocean and the city of San Hermano. The lights were going +on in the city when Flight Eighteen ended on the airport in the plateau, +for the city was five miles farther from the sinking sun of the moment. +On the plateau, the airport lights blended with the brown-orange shades +of dusk; in the city the lights cut through the classic blackness of +night. + +A smartly dressed colonel and a top-hatted functionary of the Foreign +Office were waiting with two black limousines for the Ansaldo party. The +man from the Foreign Office had cleared all the passport and customs +formalities. Jerry had just enough time to tell Hall that she and the +doctors were to stay at the Bolivar before the cars started down the +winding hill to San Hermano. + +Hall rode to town with the rest of the passengers in the sleek Panair +bus. He and Androtten were also bound for the Bolivar. + +Riding into the valley, the bus descended into the night. It was a night +made blacker by the war, as were the nights in San Juan and Havana and +New York. San Hermano was the capital of a nation still at peace, but +the maws of the war across the seas reached for the oil and coal of the +world, and San Hermano could not escape this world. Three lights in +every four on the Plaza de la Republica were out, for coal and oil +furnished the power for the city's electricity. Two years earlier, Hall +had asked Anibal Tabio why coal and oil had to turn the city's dynamos +when the nation abounded in thousands of mountain streams which could be +harnessed by men with slide rules and logarithm tables, and the gentle +President had answered him in a sentence. "Because, my dear Hall, San +Hermano has been in the twentieth century for barely a decade, while +your own nation has been in our century for forty years." And tonight, +looking at the ancient Plaza from the window of his room on the third +floor of the Bolivar, Hall remembered Tabio's words with disturbing +clarity. + +From the balcony of his hotel room, Hall could see both San Hermanos, +the Old City and the New. Everyone spoke of the two cities in these +terms--the geographers, the tourist guides, the inveterate _Hermanitos_ +themselves. + +The Old San Hermano had been founded by the Conquistadores in the +sixteenth century, a walled speck on the shores of an ocean, a fortress +and a thatched church, a handful of flimsy huts. In a century, the +thatched church became a proud, gloomy Cathedral; one of the walls was +knocked down, and in its place was the cobbled Plaza de Fernando e +Isabel. The Plaza was Spain in the New World; opening on to its cobbles +stood the huge Moorish stone palaces designed by architects brought over +from Seville, the palace of the Captains-General who served as colonial +governors, the fortified mint, the Cathedral, the home of the Governor's +elder brother, the Duke of La Runa. Enslaved Indians and later chained +Negroes from the African coasts had carried on their backs the square +stones Spanish masons cut and formed for the edifices of the Plaza, +first the Cathedral, next the Governor's Palace and the Mint. + +Then, in the days of Hidalgo, Bolivar, and San Martin, the ancient Plaza +of the Conquistadores became the Plaza de la Republica, and for a few +glorious hours the new nation was in tune with its century. But the +great Liberators of the times were to die in embittered exile, far from +the scenes of their brightest victories. For one swing of the pendulum +the liberated lands teetered on the dizzy heights of freedom, and then +the pendulum swung back and stopped swinging for a century. The land +remained in the hands of the Spanish nobles, and they won their war +against the Industrial Revolution, and all that remained of the hour of +triumph was the name the Liberators had given the old Plaza and a hollow +Republic controlled by the landowners. + +In ways more subtle, but no less real than the old ways, the Republic +became a colony again, except that the nation was no longer ruled by a +crown but by new and even more potent symbols: the sign of the pound, +the sign of the dollar, the sign of the franc. The new order brought a +new San Hermano, a new Western city built around the rims of the old +fortress seaport. It was a strange and often beautiful melange of French +villas and British banks and American skyscrapers and German town +houses. + +The old Constitution of the Liberators gave way to a series of native +dictators who waxed rich as the servants of the foreign owners of the +metals and minerals discovered under the nation's soil, of the foreign +business men who never saw San Hermano but built vast abattoirs near the +wharves where skinny _Hermanitos_ earned a few pennies a day for +slaughtering and then loading endless herds of native cattle in the dark +holds of foreign ships. + +They were ruthless men, the dictators who sat in San Hermano as +pro-Consuls of the foreigners and the landowners, ruthless men who, for +their share of the profits of the foreigners, of the endless rivers of +pesetas the landowners sent to Spain, maintained armies of cutthroats to +put down any attempt at rebellion against the new existing order. + +The last of these dictators to sit in San Hermano was General Agusto +Segura. More than a decade had passed since Segura had died in bed and a +junta of professors and miners wrested the control of the nation from +Segura's henchmen. There had been little bloodshed when the Junta took +over; after thirty years, the Segura regime, or what was left of it, had +just collapsed of its own rottenness. + +Hall thought of Segura, and the state he had ruled, and then, again +thinking about Tabio while he stared into the shadows of the darkened +Plaza de la Republica, Hall remembered Tabio's quiet remark about his +country's having been in the twentieth century for barely a decade. A +slim decade, which began with a world in confusion and was now ending +with a world in flames. But if the country weathered these flames, it +would be because Tabio, instead of running for the Presidency after the +revolution which swept out the remnants of Segurista power, had chosen +to serve as Minister of Education for nearly ten years. Hall was willing +to stake his life on this, ready to bet that the phenomenal free +educational system Tabio had set up for children and adults would, in +the final analysis, be one of the nation's chief bulwarks against +fascism. + +He changed his clothes and went out for a walk through the crooked +streets of Old San Hermano before turning in. Many lights were burning +in the fourth floor of the Presidencia, the floor on which the President +had his apartment. Military guards were standing listlessly at the +entrances to the gilded building. + +Hall walked along the Plaza until he came to the Calle de Virtudes, +which led to a little cafe on the street opposite the rear entrance of +the Presidencia. It had no windows but giant shutters which were folded +against the wall when the cafe was open for business. The cafe itself +stood on a corner, the sidewalks on both sides of the place covered with +tables and chairs. Wooden lattice fences, painted a bright orange, +screened the tables from the pedestrian's section of the sidewalk. +Inside, near the bar itself, two boys with guitars were playing and +singing the tragi-comic peasant songs of the south. + +He took a sidewalk table, ordered a meat pie and a bottle of beer, and +then went to the small hotel next to the cafe to buy a sheet of paper, +an envelope, and an air-mail stamp. He asked for a telephone book, +looked up the names under Gomez, copied the address of one Juan Gomez, +and returned to his table. There he bought a newspaper from a boy +peddling the latest edition of the evening. The front page carried a +story about Ansaldo: the distinguished visiting medico was to spend the +next day conferring with local doctors who had been treating the +President. In one of the back pages, under Arrivals, there was a line +about the illustrious author and war correspondent Dr. M. Gall who +reached San Hermano by Clipper; Dr. Gall was the noted author of _The +Revenger_, even now being produced in Hollywood. + +The paper was put aside for the meat pie. When he was done with the +food, Hall pushed his plates away and spread his sheet of lined writing +paper on the table before him. He called for some ink, filled his +fountain pen, and wrote a letter in Spanish to a "Dear Pedro." + +It was a rambling, innocuous letter which started out with family gossip +about a forthcoming marriage of a cousin, the marriage prospects of the +writer's eligible daughter, the letter received from Cousin Hernando who +was happy on his new ranch and whose good wife was expecting another +child soon. Then the letter went on to say that "I suppose you have read +in the Havana papers that our President is ailing. Today there arrived +in our city the distinguished Spanish doctor Varela Ansaldo. He is to +treat the President. Perhaps I am very stupid, but is he not the surgeon +who operated so well on the throat of your dear Uncle Carlos?" The +letter then continued on for another page of family gossip and regards +and requests that Pedro embrace a whole list of dear cousins and aunts. +It was signed, simply, "Juanito." + +Hall read the letter twice, sealed it, and addressed the envelope to +Pedro de Aragon, Apartado 1724, La Habana, Cuba. Pedro de Aragon was a +myth. Mail at this box was picked up by Santiago Iglesias, an officer of +the Spanish Republican Army whom Hall had met again in Havana. Iglesias +did at one time have an uncle named Carlos; the uncle had died on the +Jarama front from a fascist bullet that tore through his throat and +killed him instantly. Hall had arranged to write to Iglesias under names +chosen from the phone books of different cities if the need arose. He +scribbled the name and address of Juan Gomez on the back of the +envelope, left some money on the table, and walked back to the Plaza. +There he dropped the letter in a mailbox and continued on his way to the +Bolivar. + +There was a new clerk on duty when Hall reached the hotel, a wiry man of +forty-odd whose yellow silk shirt clashed with both his black mohair +jacket and his long, lined face. Hall asked for the key to Room 306 in +Spanish. + +The clerk cleared his throat and answered in English. "There was +messages," he said, handing the key to Hall with a sheaf of slips. "And +also this." From under the counter he drew a sealed letter written on +heavy paper and bearing the neat blue imprint of the American Embassy at +San Hermano on the envelope. + +Hall frowned and tore open the envelope. + +"Senorita the Ambassador's daughter telephoned twice," the clerk said. + +"Thank you." + +"It's on this slip, Mr. Hall." + +"Thanks again." He read the few handwritten lines of the letter. It was +an invitation from the Ambassador's daughter, Margaret Skidmore, to +attend the Ambassador's party at the Embassy on the 5th. That was two +nights off. + +There was a message from Jerry Olmstead. She had phoned from her room to +leave word that she had retired for the evening but would meet him in +the dining room at ten for breakfast. Hall noticed that the clerk was +watching him intently as he read the girl's message, but when he started +to read the next slip the clerk interrupted him. + +"It's from Mr. Roger Fielding," he said. "I took the message myself. He +is a very nice person. An Englishman." + +On the slip the clerk had written, "Mr. Fielding is very sorry you were +not in because it is important. He will call you again." + +"My name is Fernando Souza," the clerk said, extending his hand. "I am +very happy to meet you." + +Hall put the papers down on the desk and shook hands with the clerk. +They had a meaningless chat about the rigors of wartime travel and the +dimout in peaceful San Hermano and Hall learned that the Englishman +Fielding was in the tall Lonja de Comercio building and very decent. "I +have been at this desk for many years and in this position one meets +many people," the clerk said, and he went on amiably chatting about what +one could see on different one-day tours from the city. + +"It is very sad about the President," Hall said, and then the clerk +reddened and he forgot to speak English. "The Educator must live," +Fernando Souza said. "If the Educator goes, the nation goes." + +"I know," Hall said. "I admire Don Anibal greatly." + +"_Momentico, Senor. El telefono._" After nine, the night clerk had to +handle the switchboard at the Bolivar. + +It was Fielding again. Hall picked up the phone on the marble counter. +"Yes, Mr. Fielding," he said, "I'm sorry I missed your first call." + +"Not at all, old man. Not at all. Damned decent of you to answer my call +now, what with the hour and all that." The voice which came through +Hall's receiver was the raspy, crotchety, bluff voice of a movie +Britisher, the diction almost too good to be true. "I must say it was a +good surprise, a good surprise. The paper tonight, I mean, even if they +called you Dr. Gall. But what can they do if the H is silent in +Spanish?" + +"I've been called Gall before." + +"Of course you have, of course you have." The man at the other end of +the wire cleared his throat with a loud harumph. "What I'm calling +about, Mr. Hall, is--well, damn it all, what with the war and all that I +guess we have a right to keep a tired traveler from going to bed the +second his plane reaches the end of his road. I think it rather urgent +we have a bit of coffee and a bit of a chat tonight. Really, old man, I +think it is urgent." + +"At what time?" Hall asked. + +"I'm at home now," Fielding said. "I can get to Old San Hermano in an +hour. Souza can tell you how to get to my office. Nice chap, that Souza. +Straight as a die." + +"Good." + +"The office is about ten minutes from the Bolivar by cab, if Souza can +get you a cab. Suppose I ring you at the Bolivar when I reach the +office?" + +"That will be fine. See you soon." Hall put the phone down and turned to +Souza. "He said you are straight as a die," he said. + +"Mr. Fielding is a very decent Englishman," Souza said. He offered no +further information about Roger Fielding, and Hall decided against +asking any questions. + +"If you are meeting him at his office, I had better get you a cab," +Souza said, and then, sensing the hesitation in Hall's eyes, he quickly +added, "it would be better. Walking at night is dangerous, especially in +Old San Hermano, since the lights went out. There are many--accidents." + +"O.K.," Hall said. "Look, I'm going upstairs to catch a little sleep. +When Fielding calls back, get me that cab and send up a pot of coffee. +And it's been good meeting you, even if Fielding does say you are +straight as a die." + +Souza did not get the joke, but he knew that Hall was trying to joke and +he laughed. + +Hall went to his room, took off his shoes and his suit, and fell across +the bed. He dozed off wondering why he had agreed so readily to meet the +man with the tailor-made British diction. + +At ten-fifteen his phone rang. "Mr. Fielding called ten minutes ago. I +have your cab ready now. He is a very reliable driver." + +"Good. How about my coffee?" + +Souza laughed. "The only waiter on duty is a _cabron_, Senor. Mr. +Fielding will have much better coffee for you, anyway." + +Hall chuckled as he washed the sleep out of his eyes with cold water and +combed his hair. The waiter is a _cabron_! There was one for the book. +Hall made up a song while he dressed, a song about yes we have no coffee +today because the son of a gun is a dirty _cabron_ so we have no coffee +today. + +Souza slammed his palm down on the bell twice when the elevator let Hall +into the lobby. "Pepito!" he shouted. + +The biggest cab driver Hall had ever seen outside of the United States +bounded into the lobby from the blackness of the San Hermano night. He +advanced toward the desk in seven-league strides, wiping his right hand +on the blouse of his pale-blue slack suit and taking off his white +chauffeur's cap with the other hand. He hovered over Hall like a mother +hen. + +"Pepito," Souza said, "this is Senor Hall." This he said in Spanish. In +English, he again told Hall that the man was a very reliable driver. + +"_Con mucho gusto_, Senor 'All. _Me llamo_ Delgado." Sheepishly, the +giant offered his hand to Hall. + +"I am much pleased," Hall said. "Shall we start now?" + +Pepito Delgado led Hall to a blue 1935 LaSalle parked in front of the +Bolivar. "She is my own machine after I make the last payment next +month," Delgado said. "I am glad you speak Spanish. It is the only +language I know." He drove Hall to the ten-story Comercio building in a +few minutes. + +When Hall tried to pay him, Delgado shook his head happily. "You'll pay +me later," he smiled. "I'll wait for you." + +"But I may be hours," Hall protested. + +Delgado called upon the Saints in a series of genially blasphemous +exhortations. "Mother of God," he said, "it is bad luck not to make a +round trip with the first American of the season. I'll wait and not +charge you more than two pesos for the whole trip." + +"I do not wish to rob you," Hall said. "Wait, and we shall make a fair +price later." + +He entered the Comercio building, but as the doors of the elevator +closed and he started on his way up to the seventh floor Hall knew that +Delgado was only playing the fool and was in fact no man's fool at all, +and it bothered him. The right side of his face twitched slightly as he +left the car and walked down to the bend in the hall leading to Room +719. + + + + +_Chapter three_ + + +The frosted glass door of Room 719 bore the words, "Roger Fielding Y +Cia." The anteroom was dark, but Hall could see the dim form of a man +sitting in a lighted inner room. He knocked on the glass without trying +the knob. In a moment, the light snapped on in the anteroom, and the man +from the inner office opened the hall door. + +"Mr. Hall?" he asked. "I'm Roger Fielding. Welcome to San Hermano. And +please come inside." + +Fielding fitted to the last detail the mental image Hall had conjured of +the man on the phone. Genial, peppery, he not only talked like a +Hollywood Englishman, he was a casting director's dream. Let the call go +out for a man to play a retired India colonel, a British Ambassador, the +Duke of Gretna Green, the popular professor of Chaldean Culture at +Oxford, the Dean of Canterbury or the Chief of Scotland Yard, and +Fielding was the man who could slip into the role without even changing +from street clothes to costume. Fielding was the man, complete to the +faintly grizzled face with the gaunt features, the dazzling plaid +jacket, the thick-walled Dunhill pipe with the well-caked bowl. + +He ushered Hall into the inner office, whose shades were all drawn to +the sills. There was a large mahogany desk at the window; against the +wall stood a long table bearing a row of glass coffee makers, a tray of +demi-tasse cups, and a series of earthen canisters. On the wall above +this table hung a large sepia-tinted photograph of London, taken about +1920. It faced a large print of a cottage and a brook in the Shakespeare +country. This engraving hung over a row of four filing cabinets with +steel locks. The walls were further decorated with framed certificates +of Fielding's membership in coffee associations of San Hermano, Rio and +New Orleans. + +"Sit down, sit down," Fielding urged, pulling a comfortable leather +chair to the side of his desk for Hall, and taking the swivel chair +behind the desk for himself. The highly polished desk was bare, except +for a calendar pad and a folded red-leather picture frame whose picture +faced Fielding. + +"I'm in coffee, you see." + +Hall glanced up at the certificates and the long table. "I see," he +said. + +"How was your trip? Not too tiring, I hope? That's the sad thing about +planes. Faster than ships, but rather confining." + +"It was not too bad," Hall said. "Besides, I stole an hour's cat nap at +the hotel while waiting for you to get to town." + +"Good for you," Fielding said. "I like a man who can steal an hour's +sleep when the spirit so moves him. May I make you some coffee to keep +you awake, though?" + +"If it's not too much trouble." + +The Englishman was already at his coffee table. He took the pipe out of +his mouth, pointed with the end of the curved stem at one of the +canisters. "I guess we'll mix you a little of that Monte Azul with some +of this light roast from the south," he said. "If that doesn't sit well, +I have two dozen other roasts you can try." + +Hall asked him how good a blend would result from the mixture of Monte +Azul, Bogota, and the various Brazilian growths Androtten had described +to the Brazilian on the plane. + +"Ah," Fielding smiled, "so you know coffees, too?" + +"Not at all. My education started on the plane." Hall described +Androtten, and told Fielding of the Dutchman's experiences in Java and +his theories of the perfect blend. + +Fielding set some coffee and water into one of the vacuum makers, put a +match to the alcohol burner. "Androtten," he mumbled. "I don't remember +meeting him before. However, if it's the Monte Azul bean he's after, +I'll venture he'll be in to see us before the week is over. Let me see, +Androtten ..." He picked up his phone, asked for a local number. +"Hello," he said into the phone. "Sorry to call so late, old man. About +a chap named Androtten. A Hollander. Blitzed out of Java by the Nippos. +Of course. In coffee. Came in tonight on the Clipper to buy Monte Azul +for blending. Know him? I see. Well, thanks, anyway." + +The Englishman put the phone away. "One of my countrymen," he explained. +"He's not in Monte Azul and I'm not in southern crops. We help one +another in a case like this. Incidentally, he never heard of your +Androtten." He chatted aimlessly about the coffee business until the +coffee in the vacuum maker was ready, then he poured it into a small jug +and brought the jug and two demi-tasse cups to the desk. "Sugar?" he +asked. + +Hall had lost his taste for sugar in San Sebastian. "I have it black and +pure," he said. + +"That's the only way to enjoy real coffee, Mr. Hall." Fielding took a +key from his pocket and went to the first filing cabinet. "However," he +said, "it wasn't to talk about coffee that you were generous enough to +come here tonight. Not to talk about coffee." He pulled a brown-paper +portfolio out of the file and returned with it to the desk. He undid the +strings that bound the portfolio, removed a manila folder. + +"I think you had better pull your chair around and sit next to me here," +Fielding said. "We have to look over some things in this file." + +Hall moved both the chair and the jug of hot coffee. From his new +position, he could see that the leather folding frame on the desk +contained two photos of what was evidently one person. One photo showed +a young man of twenty-odd standing near a stone wall in what was +undoubtedly England; the other photo was the young man as a laughing +child in a pony cart. + +"I lost my boy," Fielding mumbled, absently. He tapped the ashes from +his pipe out into an ash tray on the window sill, filled it again with +new tobacco from a worn ostrich pouch. Hall could see a thin, rheumy +film cover the Englishman's eyes. + +"The war?" Hall asked, softly, but if Fielding heard him he gave no +indication that he had. + +Fielding held a lighted match over the filled bowl of his pipe, started +it burning with deep, sucking draughts. "Ah, your book," he said, when +the pipe was burning. "You are a man of courage, Hall. You showed real +guts. The kind of guts our Nellie Chamberlain didn't have when England +needed them most." + +Hall poured fresh coffee into both his and Fielding's cups. "Thank you," +he said. "I tried to do it justice." He told him what the British censor +in Cairo had said when he saw the manuscript. + +The grizzled Englishman took the pipe out of his mouth, looked at Hall +with amazement and disgust. "British grit, my foot!" He bellowed. "The +_Revenger_ was doomed the day Nellie Chamberlain decided to back Franco. +I'm talking about your other book, Hall, _Behind Franco's Lines_. +Any fool can get a battleship shot out from under him, but it takes a +man ..." Suddenly he stopped, because both Hall and he were looking at +the photos of the young man who was once a laughing boy in a +canary-colored pony cart. + +He opened the folder. A photostat of a multi-paged typewritten report +lay on top of the neat pile of papers in the folder. "Now then, Hall, to +get to the point. When I read that you had arrived in San Hermano, well, +frankly, Hall, I thought it was the answer to my prayers. I know I'm a +garrulous old man, but that comes from talking into the prevailing winds +for so long that I just can't help myself." + +"I know what you mean," Hall said. "Only I never thought of it in that +way. I thought of it in terms of talking to a blank wall." + +"Be it as it may, Hall, I don't think I'll be talking at a blank wall +when I speak to you. As I said, there is a point to this meeting, and +the point is brief. Hall, the Falange is in San Hermano, and it is up to +much trouble." + +"The Falange!" + +"Oh, I know what you are thinking. Tabio made it illegal and it had to +disband and all that. But Tabio's government never threw the whole +Falange crowd into jail, where they belong, and they are still getting +their orders from the Spanish Embassy." + +Hall passed a hand in front of his smarting eyes. "Did you say they're +up to trouble?" he asked. + +"I said just that, Hall. Did you ever hear of the Cross and the Sword? +Sounds like the name of a ha'penny thriller. Have you seen one of these +since you arrived in San Hermano?" He handed Hall a gold lapel emblem; +it was a sword with a blazing hilt, the letters ATN engraved across the +cross piece of the hilt. + +"The ATN stands for Accion Tradicionalista Nacional, but no one calls +them that any more than they call the Nazis by their formal name. You +know, National German Socialist something or other. It's a bad business, +Hall, a very bad business. The Cross and Sword, alias the Falange +Espanola." + +"Are they very strong?" + +"They don't parade around the streets in their blue shirts as they did +until Tabio clamped down in '40, and they don't pack the Cathedral in +their Falange uniforms any more to hold special masses for the rotten +soul of that young snot old Primo de Rivera whelped. The Cross and the +Sword is not like that. But go to the San Hermano Country Club or a +meeting of the Lonja de Comercio or to a fashionable party in the +country and every tailored jacket you see will have a Cross and a Sword +pinned to the lapel. + +"Go to a little country village the day after the local school teacher +was murdered on some lonely dark road. The _campesinos_ stand around +muttering 'The Cross and the Sword is guilty,' and the next night the +home of some local Spanish landowner goes up in smoke. Then it's only a +matter of hours before the Cross and Sword members in San Hermano are +raising hell because a fellow Cross and Sword member had his house +burned down. They tell everyone that's what happens when you have a Red +regime which forces a gentleman to sell his land to the government and +then sells the land back to the peasants who have to borrow the money +from the government to pay for the land." + +Hall turned the Cross and Sword emblem over in his fingers. "That's what +happened in Spain," he said. "It happened in just that way." + +"Of course it did, Hall. Of course it did. Now look here. Look at this." +From the bottom of the pile of documents in the folder, Fielding +extracted a map of the nation's coastline. + +"Here," he said, "is the coast. Now note these islands. I have numbered +some of them in red ink. Now take this island, Number Three. Looks like +an ink blot, doesn't it, now? Not much of a place for anything. Just a +bunch of volcanic caves and some quite useless land. Good for grazing a +few head of sheep, but not too good even for that. Belongs to a chap +named Segundo Vardenio. Been in his family for years, over three hundred +years. Own the island, own thousands of acres on the shore facing the +bloody island. I know the whole family. More Spanish than the Duke of +Alba, that family. + +"Well, sir, they were all in the Falange. Segundo Vardenio was one of +the big leaders of the Falange in the country. Used to wear his blue +shirt and his boots and give his damned stiff-arm salute all over the +place. And what do you think goes on at his island, Hall? I'll tell you. +Oil and submarines, submarines and oil. The Vardenio lands on the shore +are in sugar. They have a narrow-gauge Diesel railway of their own on +the estates. Understand, Hall, a _Diesel railway_? The locomotives and +the submarines burn the same type of oil." + +"German subs?" + +"Hun subs and only Hun subs, Hall. Look here. Look at this report. I +sent it to the chief of Naval Intelligence at our Embassy. On the 29th +of September, 1940, a Hun sub anchored off Vardenio's island. A small +launch belonging to the Vardenio family towed the sub into the largest +of the sea caves on the island. The sub took on a load of Diesel oil, +fresh fruit, meat, cigars, razor blades and a sealed portfolio. I don't +know what was in that portfolio. Three days later, the British freighter +_Mandalay_, carrying beef and copper from San Hermano, was torpedoed and +sunk by a Nazi submarine at approximately this point." Fielding held a +ruler between an X mark in the ocean and the island. + +He continued to read the report aloud, running a bony finger under the +words as he read them, pausing now and then to sneer at his detractors +in the British Embassy or to chuckle at some particular sarcasm written +into the report. + +The facts in the report were set forth in great detail. They dealt with +other submarine anchorages, with the role of the Cross and the Sword on +the waterfront, and with the beginnings of an organized ring of +sabotage. The report ended with the account of the events which followed +the visit of the _Ciudad de Sevilla_, a Spanish liner, to the port of +San Hermano. + +"Look here, Hall," Fielding said. "Listen to this. On the twentieth of +September, '41, the _Ciudad de Sevilla_ docked in San Hermano at +four-ten in the afternoon. At approximately five o'clock, the radio +operator of the Spanish liner, one Eduardo Jimenez, left the ship and +proceeded to a bar on the Paseo de Flores, the bar known as La +Perrichola. There he met with two unidentified men, one of whom was +later identified as a provincial leader of the Cross and the Sword. The +three men went to a brothel near the waterfront, and at exactly ten +o'clock left the brothel and got into a waiting sedan which, by a +roundabout route, took them to Calle Galleano 4857, a quiet villa in the +west suburb. + +"The villa belongs to Jorge Davila, a lawyer for some of the great +landowning families of the south. Davila's record as one of the leaders +of the now illegal Falange and an organizer of the Cross and the Sword +has been covered in my previous report, dated July 7th of this year." +Fielding poured some fresh coffee for Hall and himself. "Tomorrow or the +next day I can show you the report in question, Hall. But to proceed +with this report. + +"At Davila's home, a group of Cross and Sword leaders were waiting for +the three men in the sedan. They had a long meeting, lasting over five +hours. Then eight men, including the Spanish ship's officer, left the +house and entered two fast cars of American make. The cars proceeded to +the town of Alcala, in the sugar lands some seventy miles from San +Hermano. + +"In the morning, there was no trace of the eight men in Alcala. That +night, the sugar fields of the English planter, Basil Greenleaf, were +set on fire by incendiary flames started in over twenty different parts +of his acreage at the same time. Two of Greenleaf's employees who were +attempting to fight the blaze in the east field were killed by rifle +fire. One of them lived long enough to stagger to the road where he told +his story to the Greenleaf foreman, a man named Esteban Anesi. + +"I must call your attention, sir, to the fact that Greenleaf was the +only planter in the Alcala region who had contracted to sell his crop to +Great Britain, and that the fire took place exactly two weeks before the +harvest time. + +"Eduardo Jimenez was next seen in San Hermano the day after the fire, +when he appeared in the Municipal Police Headquarters in what was +evidently a state of extreme intoxication. He complained that on leaving +his ship on the twentieth, he had gone to a bar for a drink, met up with +two pimps, and had then been taken to a brothel where, after two days of +drunken revelry, he had been cleaned out of his life's savings and then +been carried out to sleep it off in an alley off the Calle Mercedes. +Having made his complaint, he passed out. A police doctor examined him, +recommended a good night's sleep." + +Fielding held his finger under the word _sleep_. "Hah," he roared. "Damn +clever, the bastards! Now then, where was my place? Oh, yes, good +night's sleep. Yes." + +"In the morning, Jimenez awoke, vomited, and started to yell for the +jailer. He wanted to know what he was doing in a cell, and when shown +his complaint, he expressed innocent amazement. He could not recall a +thing. The warden gave him a hearty breakfast and sent him on his way. +Jimenez joined his ship, which sailed for Spain that afternoon with a +cargo of beef." + +The case of Eduardo Jimenez was the last in the report. Fielding put the +copy aside and leaned back in his chair. "Was this worth your while, +Hall?" he asked. + +Hall grinned. "You have the necessary proof?" + +"Absolutely. To the last word, old man. To the last word." + +"May I have a copy of your report?" + +"Of course. I hope you will get better results, though." + +"May I ask an impertinent question, sir?" + +"Be as impertinent as you wish. I'm sixty-four years old, Hall, and if I +can't put up with Yank impertinence in this late stage, I deserve no +sympathy." + +"Well then, and don't answer if you think me too brash, Fielding, it's +simply ..." + +"Hold on!" Fielding held up a restraining hand. "Let me write your +question out on this slip of paper and after you ask it, I'll show you +what I've written." He scribbled a few words on the paper, covered them +with his left hand. + +"Are you British Intelligence?" Hall asked him. + +Fielding handed Hall the slip of paper. On it was written: _Q. Fielding, +old man, are you a British agent? A. No, my fine impertinent friend. +Believe it or not, I am not a British agent._ + +He was not smiling when he put a lighted match to the slip of paper and +watched it burn to ashes in the bronze tray. "As a matter of fact," he +said, soberly, "I am not in very good repute at the British Embassy. I +organized a dinner of the more sensible people in the British colony +here in '38 and, after I'd made a blistering speech against Munich and +non-intervention in Spain we all signed a row of a cable to Nellie +Chamberlain. They have me down as a sort of an eccentric and a Red. +Perhaps I am eccentric, but I'm no more a Red than poor Professor Tabio +or your own Mr. Roosevelt." + +"I've been called both things before myself." + +"I'll bet you have, Hall. I'll bet you have. Let's have another jug of +coffee and look through some more reports. Can you stay awake for an +hour or so?" + +"I can stay up all night." + +"Well, maybe you can. But I'm not as young as I used to be. We'll finish +the reports in this folder and call it a night. But first--the coffee." + +The aroma from the jug warmed Hall's senses. In the cell at San +Sebastian he would awake at night dreaming that he was smelling the +sweet vapors of a fresh pot of coffee boiling away near his pallet. +"God," he said, "I must tell you about what this smell means to me some +day." + +"There's nothing like it," Fielding agreed. "Now let me see, here's a +photostat of a letter from the Embassy acknowledging the receipt of the +report I just read, and here ... Ah...." He started to turn the next +letter over, but Hall, reading the letter-head, laid a hand on the +sheet. + +"May I?" he asked. + +Fielding handed him the letter. It was on the stationery of the +International Brigade Association in London, dated January, 1938. + +"The action on the Jarama front ... bitter ... your son Sergeant Harold +Fielding leading squad of volunteer sappers ... missing in action ... +thorough check on records of hospitals and field stations on that +front ... no record of Sergeant Fielding ... we therefore regret ... must +be presumed dead...." + +The father of Sergeant Fielding held the picture of the boy in front of +Hall. "This photograph," he said, heavily. "It was taken a year before +he went to Spain. You didn't, by any chance, happen to know the lad, did +you, Hall? He was my only child. Completing work on his Master's in +biochemistry at Cambridge when the Spanish show started. You didn't +happen to know him, eh, Hall?" + +Hall studied the photograph. + +"He fought with the British Battalion," Fielding offered. + +"I was with them in the fighting for Sierra Pedigrosa," Hall said. +"There was Pete Kerrigan, and a boy named Patterson I knew pretty well. +And--but that was after the Jarama fighting." + +"The boy is not alive," Fielding said. "I checked with the International +Red Cross after the war, and he was not taken prisoner by the fascists. +I just wanted to find someone who could tell me--who could tell me how +my boy died." + +Hall returned the red-leather frame. "I wish from the bottom of my heart +I could help you. But I just can't. I'm afraid I never did meet the +boy." + +Roger Fielding read the letter from London for perhaps the thousandth +time, sighed, and placed it face down on top of the pile to the left of +the letters and reports in the folder. "Ah, well," he said. "Now for the +living. Now here's a report I made three weeks ago. Some day those young +stuffed shirts in the Embassy will have to read my reports seriously, +Hall. Perhaps this is the report that will do it." + +The second report bore the heading: "Neutrality or Belligerence: +Gamburdo or Tabio." + +Hall started. "What's this?" he asked. + +"Let's look it over, old man." Fielding cleared his throat and began to +read aloud. + +"It is no secret, or it should be no secret to our vigilant intelligence +services, that President Anibal Tabio is a warm friend of the cause for +which the United Nations are fighting. It is no secret that Tabio, +before being stricken with his present tragic illness, was planning to +go before the Havana Conference himself to lead the continental campaign +to declare war on the Axis powers. + +"However, the views of Vice-President Gamburdo, who now has assumed the +control of the government, are less well known. Gamburdo's views, +however, are not among the best kept secrets of this war." Fielding +chuckled, waved his pipe in the direction of the Presidencia, and added +the comment, "I should say not! They are far from secret. + +"Gamburdo's ties to the Cross and the Sword are very discreet. I have +reason to believe that Gamburdo believes his link with the ATN is not +known by anyone except a few chosen fascist leaders." + +Fielding looked up at Hall. "Oho," he laughed. "That must have been hard +to swallow. They don't like to call the Cross-and-Sword bandits +'fascists.' Oh, no. Not the Embassy. They've got them tabbed as +'conservatives' opposed to the extremes of the Red Tabio regime. The +fools! + +"Well, now, to continue. Ah--chosen fascist leaders. Oh, yes. But twice +within the past two weeks, for three hours on the twelfth and for a full +day on the fourteenth, Gamburdo was at the ranch of his brother Salvador +in Bocas del Sur conferring with Cross and Sword leaders Jorge Davila, +Segundo Vardenio, Carlos Antonio Montes, and Jose Ignacio del Llano. The +second meeting was also attended by Ramos, the Spanish Consul General in +San Hermano." + +"Ramos," Hall commented. "I know something about him. Two years ago +Batista gave him twelve hours to get the hell out of Cuba before the +diplomatic courtesies were forgotten and a cot reserved for Ramos in the +concentration camp for Axis nationals on the Isle of Pines." + +"He did come to San Hermano from Havana," Fielding said. "So I'm not so +crazy after all." + +"You're not crazy at all." + +"Hello!" Fielding exclaimed. "If you know that Ramos was kicked out, +then the Embassy crowd must know it too. Now I begin to see why +Commander New has invited me to have dinner at the Embassy tomorrow." He +took a deep breath, straightened his tie with elaborate mock ceremony. +"Mr. Hall," he said, speaking like an announcer at a royal court, "I +have the pleasure of informing you that Roger Fielding, Esquire, is +about to be released from the insane asylum to which His Majesty's +Ambassador consigned him in September, 1938." + +Hall laughed and helped himself to another pipeful of Fielding's +tobacco. "Let's finish this report," he said. "I can't tell you how +important it is to me." + +"Here you are, old man." Fielding handed the report to Hall. "I was +reading them aloud to keep you from falling asleep. But I think you're +wide awake now." + +Hall smiled warmly at the old man and read the rest of the report. It +was very brief. It described how Gamburdo had shifted nearly the entire +customs staff at San Hermano to other ports or to desk jobs on land, and +replaced them with new customs men who were in many cases proven members +of the Falange or the ATN or both. This move, the report stated, opened +the gates to Axis arsonists assigned to cross the seas on Spanish +liners. + +"Cross and Sword members," the report concluded, "are in certain +exclusive bars openly boasting that when Tabio passes away, Gamburdo +will declare the nation a neutral in this war. His family has been +sending copper, hides, beef, coffee, and sugar only to Spanish firms +since 1940. It is an open secret in the Lonja de Comercio that these +shipments do not remain in Spain but are immediately trans-shipped to +Germany. None of the Spanish firms with which the Gamburdo family does +business were in existence before July 18, 1936, the day the Spanish War +started. They are all known in shipping and export circles as German +enterprises. Gamburdo's brother has twice been heard to boast, while in +his cups, that the Nazis are protecting his vast holdings in France. + +"The Cross and Sword members in San Hermano business circles speak +highly of Gamburdo and to a man they assert that if Tabio dies, Gamburdo +will impose a foreign policy which in the name of neutrality will bring +prosperity to the landowners and exporters. It will also, of course, +bring vitally needed war supplies from this country to the Axis powers; +a fact they don't even bother to deny." + +Hall was puzzled by the report's lack of information on Gamburdo's link +to the Falange during the Spanish War. He remembered that picture of +Gamburdo at the Falange dinner held in San Hermano in 1936, the picture +he had seen in the files of the secret police in Havana. "How much do +you have on Gamburdo?" he asked. + +"Gamburdo?" Fielding yawned twice, stretched his arms. "Not as much as I +would like to have, Hall." + +"Oh." Hall told him about the picture. + +"I'm not surprised," Fielding said. "But it's really news to me. What do +you know that I should know?" + +"Nothing much, I'm afraid. How about this doctor who arrived on my +plane, Varela Ansaldo?" + +"He's never been in San Hermano before." + +"Who sent for him?" + +"I don't know. _El Imparcial_ has been giving Gamburdo the credit." + +"What do you think of that?" + +"I don't know, Hall. I think they might be trying to give Gamburdo +credit for something he doesn't deserve. _El Imparcial_ is very much +pro-Gamburdo, you know." + +"Don't I know it! I used to see Fernandez in his Falange uniform in San +Sebastian." + +"He's no good." + +"Do you think his paper can be right about Ansaldo? I mean about his +being brought to San Hermano by Gamburdo." + +"Possibly I can find out." + +"What do you think, Fielding? What's your hunch?" + +"I have none, old man. But I can see that you have, and I can see what +it is. You think _El Imparcial_ might for once be telling the truth." + +"Not the whole truth. I saw _El Imparcial_, too. It also said that +Varela Ansaldo was brought to San Hermano to _cure_ Tabio." + +Fielding cocked his head, looked at Hall out of one eye. "And you think +Ansaldo was brought in to kill Professor Tabio?" + +"I don't know. I just don't know." + +"But you mean to find out?" + +"_Quien sabe?_" + +"I'll help you. I'll give you all the help I can." + +"But you think I'm nuts?" + +The Englishman hesitated for a long while. "Ah ... Frankly, old +man--well, damn it all, you could be wrong. But I'd never say you +were--_nuts_ I believe is the word you used." + +"Thanks." + +"Well, sir, it's been a busy day." Fielding put the letters back in the +folder, then shoved the folder into the portfolio and tied the strings. +"Unless I hear a motion to the contrary, I shall make a move to adjourn. +Ah, the delegate from North America bows. The Ayes have it. Session is +adjourned." + +He rose from the desk, put the portfolio back in the filing cabinet, +closed the drawer and tested the lock. "Suppose we meet again after I +have my dinner with Commander New at the Embassy tomorrow night. He's +our new Intelligence man. Understand he took quite a beating from the +Hun at Dunkirk." + +"Swell. Same place?" + +"I don't know yet, old man. Suppose I give you a ring." The Englishman +suddenly lapsed into a lisping, Castillian Spanish. "Senor Hall? Eh, +Senor Hall? This is Father Arupe. Bless you, my son. Would you care to +come to confession tonight?" + +"Then it will be Father Arupe on the phone?" + +"Yes, Senor. If I ask you to confession, it means this office in an +hour. If I suggest you attend mass in the morning, drive out to my +house. I'll write the address for you." + +"Good." + +"Oh, just another word about tonight's reports. If you could help me +bring the facts about the waterfront to your government, I think it +would be most beneficial. Most beneficial, old man." + +"I'll do my best." + +"I know I can count on you. Knew it before I ever laid eyes on you, +Hall. One of my associates can keep us both posted on the waterfront. +Name's Harrington. Grand chap, Harrington. Straight as a die, and +intelligent." + +Hall poured a cup full of cold coffee and swallowed it in a gulp. "God, +that's good coffee," he said. + +"How are you going back to the Bolivar?" + +"I've got a car waiting downstairs. The driver insisted upon waiting." + +"El Gran Pepe?" + +"Yeah. I guess it is Big Joe." He described his driver. "And Souza says +he is very reliable." + +"Oh, he is, old man. He is. You know, since they turned the bloody +lights down, it's worth your life to cross the streets at night. Awful +lot of traffic accidents and all that, you know. Nothing like a reliable +driver." + +"How about you, Fielding?" + +"Oh, I'll phone for my own reliable driver. Or better yet, tell Pepe to +come back for me, will you, old man?" + +Hall rubbed the right side of his face. "Why don't you ride back with +me, and then continue on out to your house?" + +"No. It would be better if you left here alone." + +"But how about you?" + +"There's no danger, old man. No danger. Besides ..." Fielding reached +into his jacket pocket, took out a small black automatic. "She's loaded, +and I can shoot in the dark, if need be. My Betsy is all I need." + +"This is silly," Hall protested. + +"Go on, now, old man. No one is going to break in to the office at this +hour of the night. I'm in no danger at all." + +"If you say so." Hall got up. "Don't see me to the door. I know my way." + +The old man put his arm around Hall's shoulder. "We English," he said, +"we're an undemonstrative tribe. Take pride in our cold hearts. But +underneath the ice some of us have hearts. I'm glad to know you, Hall. +And I'm glad we had this little chat. Good night, and sleep well. You're +all in." + +"Good night, Fielding. And thanks. You're swell." + +Hall left the office, rode the elevator to the main floor. Outside, the +reliable driver was asleep at the wheel, his right hand under the white +chauffeur's cap which rested on his lap. Hall stood near the open +window, smiling sardonically at Big Pepe. O.K., pal, he thought, we'll +find out about you right now. He cleared his throat, suddenly barked, +"Arriba Espana!" + +Big Pepe awoke with a startled growl. The hand under the cap swung up +toward the window. It was clenched around a large nickeled revolver. + +"It's me, Pepe," Hall laughed. "Hall." + +The driver groaned, shoved the pistol into his trouser-pocket. Then he +also laughed. "Get in," he said. "Get in and thank your stars you're +still alive." + +Hall joined him in the front seat. + +"Arriba Espana," Pepe muttered, starting the car. "That is no joke in +the heart of any Delgado from the Asturias. That is an abomination." + +"You're an Asturiano?" + +"Look at me, _companero_. Do I have the face of a Gallego? Do I have the +head of a Catalan? Do I have the eyes of a Madrileno or the soul of a +_puta_?" + +"You fought in the war against the fascists?" + +"Mother of God, he's asking me if I fought! Always until eternity they +will ask, Delgado, did you fight? And what will I say?" + +"Watch out!" Hall screamed. "You'll hit that pole!" He grabbed for the +wheel. Big Pepe's steel arm stopped him. + +"_De nada_," the driver laughed. "Didn't Fernando tell you I am a +reliable driver?" The car missed the pole by inches, whirled around a +corner on two wheels, and then rolled casually down the Avenida de la +Liberacion. Another mad turn, and they were at the Bolivar. + +"The Englishman, Fielding," Hall said. "He wants you to pick him up at +the office and take him home." + +"_Bueno._" Big Pepe put the car in gear. + +"How much do I owe you?" Hall shouted. + +"_Manana, companero, manana._" Big Pepe had to stick his head out of the +window and look back, while the car moved ahead, to answer Hall. One +more _manana_, the American thought, and the reliable driver would drive +his car through a wall. He watched the car turn the corner on two +wheels. + +Souza was still on duty. He handed Hall the key to his room. "You look +very tired, Senor Hall," he said. "I hope you sleep well." + +"Thank you. Good night, _amigo_." When he got to his room, he phoned +down to the desk. + +"I forgot," he said. "But if that _cabron_ of a waiter is still on duty, +could you send up a bottle of mineral water with the elevator operator?" + +"Of course. The operator is no _cabron_." + +"Thanks. And by the way, didn't I meet you the last time I was in San +Hermano?" + +"No, Senor. But if you will pardon me for presuming, I feel in a sense +as if we are old friends, in a sense." + +"Old friends?" + +"Yes, Senor. You see, I have read your book." + +"My book?" + +"_Si, su libro. Buenas noches, companero._" + +This time there was no confusion in Hall's mind. He knew which book +Fernando Souza meant. He went to sleep feeling less lonely than he had +in a long time. + + + + +_Chapter four_ + + +The alarm in the pigskin traveling clock Bird had given Hall as a +going-away gift went on at eight. Hall shut it off, glanced at the +radium dial, and got out of bed. On the roof tops of the houses in old +San Hermano roosters were crowing. Outside, trolley bells clanged a +block away from the Bolivar. Hall took the half-emptied bottle of +carbonated water into the bathroom, poured it over his toothbrush, +sprinkled the wet brush with powder, and scrubbed his teeth. The charged +water filled his mouth with a vigorous foam. He rinsed his mouth with +the rest of the soda, bathed, shaved and dressed. + +There was nothing in his box at the desk. He handed the day clerk the +key and walked out to the street. At a little hole-in-the-wall stand on +Virtudes Street he bought a glass of mouth-puckering tamarind juice. A +few steps down the narrow street there was a newsstand. Hall bought two +morning papers, found a cafe where he had a cup of coffee with hot milk +and a toasted roll. He remained at his table in the soft morning sun, +reading the papers and smoking a cigar, until nearly ten o'clock. + +According to both papers, Ansaldo and Marina were to make a preliminary +examination of Tabio, and would then spend the rest of the day +consulting with San Hermano physicians who were attending the President. +There was no hint of what was actually wrong with the President, simply +a repetition of the old statement that Tabio's condition was still +grave. + +Jerry was on time for their breakfast appointment. She was wearing a +bright yellow suit of very thin cloth. "Hello," she said. "Still want to +be a tourist guide?" + +"More than ever." He caught himself wishing that this could be just an +ordinary date with a girl. + +"What's wrong?" she asked. + +"Why?" + +"You're scowling." + +"Sorry. My mind must have wandered. I'd never scowl at you." + +She smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. "I thought for a moment that I'd +pulled a boner. The suit isn't too loud, is it?" + +It was his turn to smile. "God, no," he laughed. "It's perfect. Very +hungry? Good. We're eating right here in the hotel." + +They took a table near a potted orange tree. + +"How do you say ham and eggs in Spanish?" she asked. + +"_Jamon y huevos._ Want some?" + +"Uh huh. But I want to order them myself." + +"O.K. Order some for me, too." Hall hissed for the waiter. + +"What's the idea of razzing the guy?" + +"Relax, that's the way you call a waiter." + +Jerry smiled at the waiter when he reached their table. With a childish +directness, she pointed first at Hall and then to herself. "_Jamon y +huevos_," she said. + +"That is all the Spanish the senorita speaks," Hall explained. "I think +we will have toast and coffee, too." + +"Well, well," the waiter said in accented English. "The lady speaks +good, no?" + +"No," Jerry laughed. + +"Well, well," the waiter said, "today is very nice and sunny. Very +nice." He walked into the kitchen. + +"I have a perfect itinerary," Hall said. "Old San Hermano first; that's +the historic colonial part of the city. Then, at noon, we take the +funicular railway to the top of the world for lunch. And after +that--well, well, well, as the waiter said." + +They walked about San Hermano all morning. Hall showed her through the +old fortress of the Duke of La Runa, which the government had restored +after Segura was overthrown, told her about the early colonial history +of the city. They sat on the old sea wall for a few minutes, while Hall +pointed out the Moorish and Spanish details of the stone houses along +the sea drive above the wharves. The youngest of the houses was a +century old; the tile friezes along their bellies had all been imported +from Spain in sailing ships. Jerry watched the sun do magic tricks of +blue and purple on the surface of the houses. They wandered through the +old market places, deserted that day, but colored by the little stalls +along the sidewalks. Hall bought a large spray of gardenias for the girl +from an itinerant vendor. + +"Where are those beaten-silver things you told me about?" she asked. + +"Later," he said. "There's plenty of time for that." + +"Where do we go now?" Jerry asked. "My feet are killing me." + +"From now on we ride." He found a taxi parked near the Cathedral, and +they rode to the funicular railway terminal at the base of Monte Azul. +He told her how the railway was built by Segura, as they rode. "But it +was when the Tabio junta threw the Seguristas out that the damned cable +cars meant anything to the people of the country themselves. You see, +Jerry, Segura gave the concession on top of the mountain to one of his +thugs. The new regime opened it up to the little guys. And wait till you +see what they did to the grounds." + +They shared the cable car with an old water colorist, and two other +young couples. "My God," Jerry exclaimed, when she saw the route the +cars followed, "it's like climbing hand over hand up a sheer cliff!" + +"Don't worry. It's perfectly safe. In a way, though, I'm sorry this is +such a clear day. On a cloudy day, the tracks just vanish into the soup +up there, and you feel that you are being towed into the clouds." + +The cars climbed for five miles, creaking, whining, grunting, but +steadily pushing on toward the peak. From the opened windows, Jerry +could see the Moorish villas at the base of the mountain, then their +red-tiled roofs, then the miles of scraggly wild orange trees. The +sweet, heavy odors of their blossoms filled the car. + +"Oh, look," she said, "the town is getting smaller. And the sea is +growing bluer." + +"Wait until we get off," he smiled. "Then you'll really see something." + +The old artist took out a sketch pad, studied Jerry's excited face, and +made some quick strokes with a charcoal stick. Hall winked at the old +man. "_Hola, viejo. Que pasa?_" + +"_La mujer es muy bonita._" + +"_Muchas gracias_, Senor. _Es verdad._" + +"What are you saying to him?" Jerry asked. + +"He said you are very beautiful and I said that's the Lord's gospel +truth. He's sketching you, I think." + +"Can we buy it if it's good?" + +"I'll speak to him later. Up there." + +The car stopped at the terminal on the man-made plateau about a thousand +feet from the actual tip of Monte Azul. A wooden rail ran along the edge +of the plateau for about a quarter of a mile. Within the rail was the +funicular terminal, a souvenir stand, a tiny post office, and a large +open-air restaurant. + +"Let's eat," Hall said. "You get hungry as a horse up there." + +They took a table with an enameled orange top near the rail. Large +barbecue pits hugged the mountain side of the restaurant, and under a +shed roof three cooks presided over a row of steaming pots. From their +table, they could see the mile-deep belt of mountain flowers which had +been planted in the days of the dictators and expanded by the democrats. +There were flowers of every shape and color, but orange was the color +which spoke most frequently in the cultivated beds. Below the flowers, +the mountainside seemed to be daubed with various shades of green and +brown. "But usually," Hall said, "the mountain is blue. Almost as blue +as the sea." + +Jerry looked down at the sea. "I've never seen such a deep blue," she +said. + +"I know. This is the bluest water in the world." He hissed for a waiter. +"I'm going to order a hell of a meal, young lady. A side of barbecued +beef and some corn cakes the like of which you never tasted and--just +trust my judgment." + +"Can we get drinks here?" + +"They have a white wine that beats anything in France." + +The food was good and the wine was potent. When they were done eating, +Jerry wanted more wine. "No more wine," Hall smiled. "Nibble on this +cheese, and while you're nibbling I'm going to order a punch I've just +composed in honor of this day. Let's call it Punch _Para Las Mujeres +Bonitas_." + +"Whatever that means," Jerry said, dreamily. + +"Oh, it's wonderful. Black rum and passion-flower juice and tamarinda +and wild cherry juice and--just wait. I'll be right back." He walked +across the plateau to the outdoor bar and had a long discussion with the +attendants. + +Jerry was staring into the sea when he returned. "You know?" she sighed. + +"What?" + +"Nothing. I was just thinking that I've been looking at the sea and not +thinking at all." + +"Cigarette?" + +"Uh huh. Thanks for taking me up here. It reminds me of something nice, +but I can't think of what." + +"I know," Hall said. "The minute you get here for the first time you +feel as if you've known this place all your life." + +The waiter brought a pitcher of scarlet punch and two tall glasses to +the table. Hall paid the check, and added a package of American +cigarettes to his tip. + +He filled the two glasses, tried a sip from his before handing one glass +to the girl. "Let's see how this strikes you," he smiled. + +"It's delicious!" + +"Finish it and then try walking," Hall said, dryly. + +"We'll try walking later." They finished the punch in the pitcher, and +then Jerry looked at her face in a pocket mirror. + +"Oh, Mr. Hall," she sighed. "It ate away what was left of my lipstick +and I think it gave me a red nose and I suppose I should powder and +paint but I won't." + +"Madam," he said, "you are under the influence." + +"I may be high, sir, but I'm not drunk." + +Hall got up and took her arm. "Shame on you, nurse," he said. "There's +still a thousand sights to see up here." + +"Lead on," she commanded. "We'll see who's potted." + +Hall pointed to the edge of the restaurant. There was a mountain path at +that end, a graveled path leading into a park of streams and cypresses. +They followed this path until the forest closed in around them, and they +were alone. + +"My feet," Jerry said. "These shoes were not meant for serious mountain +climbing." + +"My lady." Hall spread his brown gabardine jacket in the moss bank +adjacent to a small stream. She took off her shoes and stretched out on +the jacket, her hands clasped under her head. + +"You know," she said, "if I weren't so full of food I'd take my +stockings off and dip my feet in the creek. I just haven't the strength +to move." + +Hall lit a cigarette, put it in the girl's mouth. "If you ever dipped +one of your dainty gringo toes in this burbling frigidaire," he said, +"they'd hear your screams twelve miles out at sea." + +Jerry sat up and hummed the tune of "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf." +She took off her stockings, started to edge down toward the stream. +"Here, help me up." She extended a hand to Hall, who pulled her to her +feet. "I'm going wading." + +There was no scream when Jerry stepped into the water. Her breath just +stopped. She yanked her foot out of the stream as if it were a blazing +inferno, hopped around on the dry foot with tears in her eyes, and then +lay down on the jacket. + +"Well, anyway," she said, when she could catch her breath, "I didn't +scream." + +"No. You were brave." He took out a large handkerchief, started to rub +the foot which had been in the water. + +"I never thought I'd wind up here when I left New York," she said. + +"When do you go to work?" + +"Tomorrow, I guess. The President is a pretty sick patient." + +"Does Ansaldo think he can pull him through?" + +"He didn't say." + +"Did he find out what's the matter with Tabio?" + +"Not yet. That's what he's doing today." + +Hall wanted to ask her further questions about Ansaldo, but he was +afraid to betray his interest too openly. "Let's cut it out," he +laughed. "This is a party, and we're talking shop." + +The girl sighed in contentment. "Oh, that's nice," she murmured. "I +don't care what we talk about, as long as we stay here." + +"Like it here?" + +"Right now, I wish I could stay here forever." She had her hands clasped +under her head, was talking to the tips of the cypresses as well as to +Hall. + +"Why don't you?" + +"It's like Shangri-La," she said. "We should both be two centuries old. +How old are you, Hall?" + +"Thirty-six." + +"I'm twenty-eight. Honest. Not twenty-one. Twenty-eight. In two years +I'll be over the borderline. Then I'll be an old lady. But right now I'm +not going to lie about my age." + +"Right now I don't think you could tell a lie. Not even a white lie." + +"No fair, Hall. First you get me drunk--only I'm not high any more--then +you take me to Shangri-La. Can I call you Matthew? Or is it Matty or +Matt the women in your life call you?" + +"My friends call me Matt." + +"My friends! There's no Mrs. Matt?" + +"No. Never has been." + +"I had a husband, once. Only I divorced him and became a nurse." + +"That when you left Ohio? Or was it Indiana?" + +Jerry turned her eyes from the cypresses and looked at Hall, who sat at +her side, his face over hers. "Ohio," she said. "How did you know?" + +Hall bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She neither resisted +nor returned his kiss. "You sweet dope," he said. "I'm a Buckeye myself. +Cleveland." + +"I'm from Columbus." + +"Pleased to know you, Miss Columbus. Did you know you have green eyes +and there are little gold stars in each eye?" + +"Nope." + +"Nope. Sweet dope. No one ever told you." + +"He calls me names!" Jerry sat up and put her arms around Hall's neck. +"He calls me names." She put her slightly opened mouth against his lips +and pulled him closer, and together they sank to the ground. They lay +locked in the one kiss, the girl's full breasts pressing against Hall's +chest. + +"Don't," she whispered, "please. Ah, don't. Ah, Matt. Darling." + +He found her lips again. They were trembling, and he could feel the +tremors which started in the pit of her stomach and rose to her +shoulders. "Please, Matt," she broke from his grip and turned her face +to the ground. "Darling," she said, biting then kissing his hand. He put +his arm around her and kissed the back of her neck. She shuddered +deliciously. "Let's get up," she said. + +"We're alone here," he said. + +She smiled and kissed his hand. "I'm getting up," she said. "Let me sit +up, Matt." + +"Sure," he said. He sat up with her. She ran her hand lightly over his +face, brushing the scars, the flatness of his nose. + +"Gorilla," she said, and she kissed him softly on the mouth. "You tore +off one of my buttons, you ape." + +"Hello, Miss Columbus," he said, speaking with a Spanish accent. "It is +a very nice day today. Very sunny." + +"Yes," she said. + +"Still want to stay here forever?" + +"Uh huh. Do I look too messy?" + +"No. Your hair could stand some combing." + +"Will you get me some more of that punch?" + +When she had combed her hair, they stood up and he took her hand and +they walked back along the graveled path. + +"Can we phone to town from here?" she asked. "Doctor wanted me to check +in at about five." + +"Going to work?" + +"Don't know yet." + +They had their punch. The light danced in Jerry's hair, gave it the same +orange tint which dominated the flower beds. "I forgot to tell you," +Hall said. "You're beautiful." + +Jerry swirled the scarlet drops on the bottom of her glass. "You don't +know a thing about me," she said. + +"What should I know?" + +"Nothing. But can I tell you, anyway? I want to, Matt." + +"I want to know." + +Jerry sighed. "I told you I was married before, didn't I? It didn't +take." + +"I'm sorry." + +"Don't be. I'm not really from Columbus. That is, my home town is nearer +Columbus than to any other city, but it's just a hick village in the +sticks." She told her story in very few words. High school, and then +three years at the State University, and then marriage to a small-town +high-school principal some years older than herself. After five years of +small-town married life, Jerry came into a small inheritance, left the +schoolmaster, and went back to get her degree. "I wanted to study +medicine," she said, "but I didn't have enough money, so I took up +nursing instead. The idea was to earn enough as a nurse to go back to +medical school." + +"What happened?" + +"New York happened. I couldn't take hospital regimentation, and some of +the doctors were so anxious to sleep with me that they got me some snap +jobs. You know, sitting up with rich lushes and hanging onto the girdles +of deserted dowagers who wanted to jump out of windows and handing the +right scalpel to society surgeons while they carved out a million-dollar +gut." + +"It must have paid well." + +"Too well." + +"And so you became a glamour girl." + +"That's a pretty cruel way to put it, Matt. I'm not really a dope, you +know." + +"I know." + +"I guess I just stopped thinking because I was afraid to think." + +"Where does Ansaldo fit into the picture?" + +"I came with him because I admire his skill as a doctor. I can learn +things by working with him. He's fantastically good, Matt." + +"How long do you know him?" + +"Not long. He came to New York about six months ago to operate on a +drunk who'd been my patient for months. The patient had fallen down a +flight of stairs on my day off. Ansaldo invited me to be one of the +nurses when he operated on the patient's spine. Are you interested in +operations?" + +"A little. Why?" + +"It was amazing. I thought I had seen some good surgeons at work. But +Ansaldo is more than good, Matt. He's great. After that first operation, +I was his nurse for all of his New York operations. And naturally, I +jumped at the chance to come along. I'm a perfectionist, Matt. Some day, +some day soon I hope, I'm going to go back to medical school. I've been +saving every spare penny I could. And what I'm learning from Ansaldo +couldn't be taught in any school." + +"You amaze me," he said, honestly. It was hard to doubt her. He prodded +her for details of Ansaldo's skill. She answered him earnestly, and with +increased enthusiasm. + +"But wait," she protested, finally. "I don't see why I should be telling +all about myself. I haven't talked like this to any man for years." + +"I haven't listened like this for just as long," he laughed. + +"But it's not good, I know," she said, her voice abruptly breaking. +There were tears in her eyes, and she turned away. "I've gone and made a +fool of myself." + +"Why?" + +"I know," she said. "You probably have a wife and nine kids in New York. +I bet you carry their pictures in your wallet." + +"Do I?" Hall handed his wallet to Jerry. "Look for yourself. Take out +every picture." + +There were three photos in all. The first was of Bird, his wife and +their baby. "My publisher," he explained. + +There was a sepia photo of Hall pointing the lens of a camera at a bomb +crater in Madrid. "London?" Jerry asked. + +"Yeah," he said. "London." + +The remaining photo showed Hall talking to an aged couple on a road +packed with refugees. "France?" Jerry asked. + +Hall shook his head. "No. Belgium." Again he lied. The picture had been +taken in Spain. + +"Don't hurt me, Matt," the girl said. She was dry-eyed now, but +saddened. "Don't hurt me later." + +"I won't hurt you," he said. He wondered at that moment if he would be +able to avoid hurting her. + +"Are you really alone?" + +"Alone?" He did not laugh. "God! I'm the loneliest sonofabitch in the +whole world." + +The girl smiled again. "I have half a mind to believe you," she said. +"Shall we get started back?" + +"O.K. It's getting late. Have dinner with me?" + +"I don't know, yet. Would you call the hotel and ask if there are any +messages for me?" + +"There's a phone in the souvenir stand." + +The girl bought a batch of picture sets while Hall was on the phone. "Do +we eat?" she asked when he came out of the booth. + +"No. They want you in the Marti Memorial Lab at the University at +seven." + +"Shucks." + +"I phoned for a driver to meet us at the bottom in twenty minutes. We +still have time for a drive around the nicer parts of New San Hermano." + +They went to the terminal to wait for their car. The ticket agent +glanced at Jerry and then he reached under his counter and brought up a +large envelope. "Senor," he said, "the painter left this for the lady." +It was the sketch of Jerry, wide-eyed and happy as the car climbed Monte +Azul. In the lower right-hand corner was an inscription Hall translated +for her. "To a charming visitor--a memento of her visit to our free +city. Horacio." + +"It was sweet of the old man," Jerry said. "Tell the guy to thank him +for me, will you?" + +"I already did. But this is fantastic. An original Horacio water color +is worth a baby fortune. This sketch is valuable, Jerry." + +"Didn't you recognize him?" + +"Never saw him before in my life." + +Big Pepe was waiting for them with his LaSalle when they reached the +bottom of Monte Azul. "How good are you with tourists?" Hall asked. "I +want to show the senorita New San Hermano." + +"I can drive you with my eyes closed," Pepe said. + +Hall laughed. "Keep your eyes open. And your four wheels on the +pavement," he said. "Or I'll kill you with your own gun." + +"I have no fears of you," Pepe said. "Get in." + +Hall held onto Jerry's hand as he described the sights that rolled by +their window. Big Pepe handled the car like a model tourists' chauffeur. +It rolled along smoothly, not too quickly, and when Hall tapped him on +the shoulder he would stop, the motor running softly while Hall made his +explanations to Jerry. + +At six, Hall and Jerry agreed to have one last drink before parting for +the night. "Let's ask the driver, too," he suggested. "He's a nice guy." + +"Sure. So are you." + +"Pepe, how about joining us for a drink at that bar near the Libro del +Mundo?" + +Pepe turned around and grinned at them. "With many thanks," he said. "I +will join you." + +"If we don't all join our ancestors first. Watch the road, you Asturian +murderer!" + +"I take it," Jerry laughed, "you were telling him to keep his eyes on +the wheel." + +"You're learning the language, _muchachita_." + +They found an empty table on the sidewalk. Hall and Jerry had Scotch and +sodas. Big Pepe ordered coffee. He was very happy to be with them. He +beamed continuously at the girl, and to Hall he swore that never had he +seen a more magnificent woman. "Of course," he purred, "she could stand +more meat, but for a gringo, she is most magnificent." + +"He says you're a sight for sore eyes," Hall translated. + +"Then tell him to look at my face." + +"The woman thanks you," Hall said. + +Jerry pointed to the bar. "There's the little Dutchman," she said. + +Androtten was standing alone at the bar, a wine glass in his hand. + +"I'll call him over. He's a lonesome bastard too." + +The Dutchman was delighted to see Hall. "This is indeed a damn +surprise," he said. "Join you at the table? Happy as hell to join you, +Mr. Hall. Ah, the nurse of the great doctor. Tell me, nurse, do you +think the doctor could cure my rheumatism?" This, he made clear by his +gesture of holding his side in mock agony and groaning, was meant to be +a joke. + +Hall translated the joke for Pepe. + +The driver nodded. "I understood most of it," he admitted. "One doesn't +drive American tourists for a century and learn nothing." + +"Aha," Hall said. "Pepe knows a few words of English, it develops." + +Jerry turned to the driver, smiled sweetly at him. "Tell me," she said, +"did you ever have your eyes scratched out?" + +Pepe grinned, shrugged his huge shoulders. "Did the senorita say I have +nice eyes?" he asked Hall. + +"No, Pepe. She said your eyes can bring you trouble." + +The Asturiano closed his eyes and drew his finger across his throat, +making the appropriate sounds. "I understand perfectly," he said. + +"Let's sit down one of these days," Androtten said to Hall. "I am +willing as hell to give you the damn story of what the Japanese did to +me in Java, if you are still damn willing to listen." + +"Oh, I am. Anxious as hell, Mr. Androtten." He explained to Big Pepe +what had happened to the little man. Pepe's face instantly reflected his +deep sorrow. + +"I hate to break up this nice party," Jerry said, "but I have to go to +work." + +"Can we take you back to the Bolivar, Mr. Androtten?" + +"Not just yet. I have a damn appointment here at seven." + +Hall put some money on the table and followed Jerry to the car. "I +forgot to tell you," he said. "There'll be a government car waiting to +pick you up at ten to seven." + +"The poor man," Pepe sighed. "The cruel Japanese!" + +"It's been a wonderful day, Matt." + +"When do we repeat it?" + +"Can't tell. I'll leave a message for you tonight when I get back." + +Hall ate alone after Jerry went to the laboratory, and then wandered +around the dark streets of the waterfront, thinking how he could +organize his work. That was the damned job, always. Planning your moves. +Deciding exactly what it is you're after and then organizing a method of +getting it. The letter to Santiago. That was a good start. With luck, +there would be an answer in a week. But was a week too far away? How +sick was Tabio, and could he hold out for another week? And anyway, was +Ansaldo a fascist? + +The face of Varela Ansaldo would not leave Hall's mind. Maybe Fielding +could find out something, anything. At this moment, Fielding was +probably eating a little crow with his dinner at the British Embassy. +But would they tell Fielding anything? Did they know anything? And who +the hell was Fielding and how in hell did he get the dope in his +reports? _No, my fine impertinent friend, I am not a British agent._ He +was the father of Sergeant Harold Fielding who hopped out of the wicker +pony cart and picked up one of those thin rifles and died at Jarama. + +Santiago's answer. There was the best bet. If the boys in Havana had no +dope, at least they would tell him who to contact in San Hermano, and it +was a safe bet that when Pedro de Aragon (or would it be a love letter +from Maria de Aragon?) wrote, the letter would lead him to someone who +would know Souza and Pepe Delgado. They were O.K., but just a little +cautious, and this business of squiring Ansaldo's nurse would not set +too well with them unless Ansaldo was not Gamburdo's man at all. + +Hall was turning a corner when he first noticed the little man walking +in the shadows of the opposite sidewalk. A little man in a black suit +and a dirty stiff straw hat. Hall slowed his steps, waited for the man +in the straw hat to walk closer to the yellowed street light. The man +slowed down, too. Hall kept walking. He headed for an avenue, found a +cab, told the driver to take him to La Perrichola. He looked around to +see the little man get into the other cab at the stand. + +"I changed my mind," Hall told the driver. "Take me to the Ritz +instead." + +He walked slowly into the lobby of the Ritz. It was one of the more +modern hotels in New San Hermano. He found a phone booth and called +Souza. "Where's Pepe?" he asked. + +"Right outside. Do you need him?" + +"Very much. Tell him to pick me up near the back entrance of the Ritz. +I'm too drunk to trust a strange driver." + +Souza laughed. "You Americans," he said. "Pepe will be there in five +minutes." + +Hall went to the bar, had a short brandy. The little man was sitting +behind a potted palm near the street doorway, his face buried in a +magazine. Hall looked at his watch and walked to the elevator. "Sixth +floor," he said. + +He walked through the sixth-floor hall, took the back stairs to the +fourth floor, and then looked out of the window at the landing. Big +Pepe's LaSalle was parked near the servants' door. Hall listened for the +sound of footsteps on the stairs above him. Quietly, he walked to the +basement, nodded at a waiter relaxing on a bench near the door, and +walked slowly to the LaSalle. + +"_Que pasa?_" + +"Trouble. Drive a few blocks down and then come back slowly toward the +front of the hotel." + +"Sit with me," Pepe said. He tapped the pistol in his pocket. + +"No." Hall got down on the floor of the back part of the car. "And take +your white hat off." + +The car shot down three streets, then Pepe turned the corner, rode a +block, and started to crawl along the street on which the main entrance +of the Ritz opened. "Souza said you were in trouble," Pepe said. "He +says you are not a _borracho_." + +"I was followed. Watch for a little man in a black suit and a stiff +straw hat. Park a block from the entrance to the Ritz and keep your +motor running." + +"_Claro._" + +"I think he tried to sell me perfume this afternoon when I was walking +with that nurse." + +"She needs no perfume," Pepe said. + +"She is not my woman," Hall said. + +"Did you see that other woman who came with the doctor?" Big Pepe +snorted violently. "I hate _maricones_," he said. + +"I hate them too, Pepe. Did you know that Franco is also a homosexual?" + +"They are all _maricones_. Hitler, Franco. They are all the same." + +"_Putas y maricones_," Hall said. "_La Nueva Espana!_" + +Big Pepe cleared his throat and spat out of the window. "Arriba Espana." +Hall could feel the low, toneless laugh in the Asturian's throat. + +"I think I see your dog," Pepe said. He described him for Hall. "He acts +as if he lost something." + +"Me." + +"Falangista?" + +"I don't know. Ever seen him before?" + +"Who knows? _Mira!_" + +"I can't look. What's he doing?" + +"Hiring a car." + +"Follow him. But ..." + +"_Mira, chico_, that I can do with my eyes closed. And he won't know me +for the offal on the streets." + +"Don't lose him." + +"I'd sooner lose my _cojones_." He started the car, slowly. "I am +magnificent at this," he said. + +"Good." + +"During the war I did this all the time." + +"When he stops, watch where he goes but don't stop yourself. Keep going +after he stops." + +"Don't worry," Pepe said. "I am not new at this." + +"Very good." + +"That girl with the nice hair, _companero_. Why don't you take her into +your bed some night? I think she would be very good there." + +"Forget the girl." + +"That will be very hard." + +"Where are we?" + +"Still following the little dog. We're moving toward the Plaza." + +"Pepe. The Englishman's son. Did you know him?" + +"He was very young. I only saw him once. He was very brave, _companero_. +The Centro Asturiano sent flowers to his father when the boy was killed. +He died for the Republic, you know." Pepe slowed the car. + +"What's the matter?" + +"He's stopping. We're on the Calle de Virtudes. He's going into a cafe. +I'll keep going." + +The car covered another block. Pepe turned the corner and stopped. "You +can sit up now," he said. + +Hall saw where he was. "Which bar did he go to?" he asked. + +"El Siglo. There's another cafe next door. You can sit behind a hedge at +a table there and watch El Siglo. I have done it many times. I'll park +the car across the street and watch for you." + +"Do you think we can do this alone?" + +"Why not?" + +"What do we have to do?" + +"Who knows? It is the little dog's next move." + +"But could you get some friends now?" + +"Yes. How many?" + +"A few. I'll keep an eye on El Siglo." + +"All right," Pepe said. "But we shouldn't lose the little dog." + +"That is a chance we must take. If we lose him tonight, we will follow +him tomorrow. He will be in my footsteps again." + +"That is true," Big Pepe said. "I will be back soon." He drove off down +the back street. + +Like El Siglo, the cafe where Hall found a table near a boxed hedge on +the sidewalk faced the entrance to the apartments of the Presidencia. +The lights were on again in the fourth floor. Hall wondered if the +doctors were poking poor Tabio at that moment. + +He ordered a pot of coffee and sat back to watch the entrance to El +Siglo. A newsboy sold him a late paper, but Hall gave up trying to read +it after a few minutes. He bought a box of wax matches and some cigars, +turning his back to El Siglo when the tip of his first match flared into +flame. + +Less than ten minutes after Hall started his vigil, the little man in +the straw hat walked out of El Siglo and sat down behind the wheel of a +Renault parked at the curb. He sat alone in the car, his face turned +toward the Presidencia. Hall looked nervously up the street for a sign +of Big Pepe. He jotted the license number of the Renault down on the +margin of his newspaper. + +There was still no sign of Big Pepe. + +The man in the Renault pressed the squeaky rubber horn twice. Another +man walked quickly out of El Siglo and got into the back seat of the +Renault. Hall squirmed in his chair and looked vainly for Big Pepe. The +passenger was Wilhelm Androtten. + +Hall watched the Renault start to move up the Plaza. It rode around the +entire Plaza, and, as it started to pass the cafes again, Hall saw that +it was following a black limousine which had just left the Presidencia +after picking up two passengers. + +The black limousine was doing about thirty, picking its way out +carefully in the half darkness of the old city. As it passed directly in +front of Hall's table, one of the people sitting in the back seat lit a +cigarette. In the light of the match, Hall could see that it was Varela +Ansaldo. + +He had to wait another ten minutes for Big Pepe, who returned with two +young men. "We lost him, Pepe." + +"_Hijo de puta!_ I told you." + +"Relax. I know who he works for. We can find them on our own terms now. +I saw them." + +"Who?" + +Hall looked at the two young men sharing the front seat with Pepe. +"Introduce me to your friends," he said. + +Big Pepe grinned. "That is your right," he said. "This is my nephew +Miguelito, and this is Juan Antonio Martinez. They're school teachers." +The last he said with almost boastful pride. + +The teachers were both slim lads in their early twenties. Hall shook +their hands and got into the back of the car. "Let's drive out to the +beach and talk," he said. + +"No," Miguelito said. "It would not be wise. There are too many +strangers there." + +His colleague grunted. "Your pistol, Miguelito," he said. "Take it out +of your pocket. It is digging a new hole in my arse." + +"They talk that way all the time," Pepe said, tolerantly. "But they are +very educated." + +"I am sorry if I talk like a worker," Juan Antonio said to Pepe. "My +father was only a miner. I apologize, Your Eminence." + +"He is joking," Pepe said. "Miguelito, you are a Bachelor of Arts. Tell +me, do workers joke, too?" + +"Quiet, both of you," Miguelito said. "_Companero_ Hall will think we're +all crazy." + +Hall laughed. "I've seen boys like you before," he said. + +"We were too young to go then," Juan Antonio said. "But if they try it +here, the streets of San Hermano will run with blood before we let the +fascists win." + +"Juan Antonio is a Communist," Big Pepe said. + +The boy did not deny it. "Remember my words," he said, "the flag of the +Falange will never fly over San Hermano." + +"Not if we are still alive," Miguelito added. + +"Will you listen to these children?" Pepe asked. "As soon as you turn +your back they put on the _pantalones_ and make the noises of a man!" + +"This little dog of a fascist who followed you," Miguelito said, "who is +his superior?" + +"I don't know, _companeros_. It could be Hitler...." + +"It could be Franco," Big Pepe said. + +"He said that," Juan Antonio said. "He said Hitler, didn't he, +Miguelito?" + +"Quiet," Miguelito said. "This is no joke. You said you saw him with his +superior?" + +Hall smiled at the boy. "Listen, _chico_," he said, "men with more +pistols than you have tried to put words in my mouth before. All they +got from my mouth was my spit." + +"_Ole!_" Juan Antonio punched Miguelito's shoulders with glee. + + * * * * * + +Souza was reading a fat book at his desk when Hall returned to the +Bolivar. He greeted the boys with familiarity. "They are reliable," he +said after they left. + +"I know. I was sober when I called you before. But tonight your reliable +boys nearly drank me under the table trying to find out who was with the +little dog." + +"The one who followed you to the Ritz?" + +"The same one. They also told me that you are President of the Hotel +Clerks Union." + +"I am." + +"Got a cigarette? Thanks. No, I've got matches." Hall looked around to +see if he and Souza were alone. Quietly, he said, "Androtten was the man +I saw with the little dog." + +Souza's face grew grimmer. "I don't think I am surprised." + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know. But I don't trust him." + +"Maybe this will help you." Hall handed him the license number of the +Renault. "It's the number of the car they used." + +"It will help," Souza said. + +"What time did Ansaldo get in?" + +"He did not get in, yet. Why?" + +"Androtten was following his car, I think." + +"Androtten is out, too." + +"Maybe we have something." + +"You have a message in your box." It was a note from Jerry. She was +going to work all day and had to attend a party at the American Embassy +in the evening. But she would call him in the morning. + +"I am watching her," Hall explained. + +The trace of a smile flitted across the long face of the night clerk. "I +know," he said. "Pepe told me." + +"I'll kill him," Hall laughed. "I'm going to bed. Leave a note in my box +about when they get in." + +He went to his room. When he turned on the light, he saw that a note had +been slipped under his door. It was from Jerry. "Thanks for a lovely +day," it said. "I will call you before I leave for the lab." + + + + +_Chapter five_ + + +He was dreaming of the crowds in the bull ring at Badajoz, but there +were no bulls on the sand. It was the day of the massacre, the day when +the Portuguese troops herded the _milicianos_ and their families and +handed them over to the waiting _franquistas_ on the Spanish side of the +border. It was the day the _franquistas_ shoved the Republican families +on to the sand of the bull ring at Badajoz and set up the heavy machine +guns in the boxes and fired away until every human being on the field +lay choking and dying in his own blood. In his dream Hall saw grand +ladies in mantillas in the boxes that day tossing roses and perfumed +kerchiefs to the animals at the machine guns, and in his dream he even +knew that the perfume on the kerchiefs came from a certain shop in +Barcelona. + +Then Hall spotted a crowd of German and Spanish officers in another box +and he leaped at them, his right hand gripping the ugly clasp knife in +his pocket. There were nine officers in the box, four of them Nazis and +one a gaudy Italian colonel and the rest were Spanish fascists in capes +and one of them wore a Requete beret, although his cape carried the +golden embroidered five arrows of the Falange. They began to flee from +their box in a panic, but Hall managed to get a quick look at one of the +Spaniards and then flung his knife at the Spaniard's retreating back. +Then the bells began to toll in the churches and carabineros left their +machine guns and ran barehanded after Hall but the clang of the bells +started to blot everything out and the church bells of Badajoz blended +into the steady drone of a smaller bell in Hall's ears and he awoke to +the phone bell which had abruptly brought him back to San Hermano. + +"Did I wake you up?" It was Jerry. + +"Yeah. What time?" + +"Stop groaning. Wash your face and I'll call you back in five minutes." + +Later, she asked him if he had been having a bad dream and he said it +had been closer to a nightmare in technicolor. "About the war?" she +asked, and he said it had been about the war. + +"Darling," she said, "I wish you never have another nightmare as long as +you live." + +"Thanks," he said. "Do we have breakfast together?" + +"No. I'm leaving with the doctors in a few minutes. Work all day." + +"Dinner tonight?" + +"That's out, too. I have to go to a party with the doctors at the +American Embassy." + +"Good. I was invited, too. I'll see you there." There was a long pause +at the girl's end of the wire, and Hall said, "Jerry? Are you still +listening?" + +"Sure," she said. + +"What's wrong?" + +"Nothing. You're a darling. I've got to hang up now. I've got to be out +of here in ten minutes." + +"O.K.," he said. "See you tonight." + +He reached the lobby at half-past eight. There was no message in his +box, and he could see that Jerry's key was already in the cubicle. "I'll +be in the dining room if anyone phones," he told the day clerk. He +bought a paper from a boy standing near the entrance of the Bolivar and +went in to eat. + +Hall was having his second cup of coffee when Androtten entered the +dining room. The little Dutchman smiled happily when he spotted Hall. + +"Good morning, good morning," he shouted. "Hell of a nice day, no?" + +"It's nice and sunny," Hall said. "Eating alone? Take a chair." + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Hall. Damn nice of you." + +Hall wanted to shove the incongruous hells and damns down the pink face +of the Hollander. "Not at all," he said. "I like company." But the +beaming Dutchman brought goose pimples to his spine this morning. + +"Excuse me," Hall said, rising. "I'll be back in a minute." + +He went to the desk, picked up a pad of cable blanks and an indelible +pencil. Then, at the table, he sat with pencil poised over the pad and +smiled at Androtten. "Mine is a funny business," he said. "When you get +to the capital of a country you can't go right to work, you know. Far +from it, Androtten. First you smooch around the town like a prowler, +talking to taxi drivers and bartenders and ..." + +"Pardon my ignorance, Mr. Hall. But _smooch_? Is it a real word or +journalists' slang?" + +"I guess you'd call it slang. I mean you have to mingle with the little +people to get an idea of the currents." + +"And when you get this idea?" + +"When you get the idea, you can go to work." Hall wrote the name and +address of the editor of one of the big weeklies in the States on the +blank. "Vice-President Gamburdo is man of hour here today," he wrote. +"Tomorrow may be man of hour in all Latin America. Arranging for +interview. Can you use? Matthew Hall." + +"And now you are working?" + +Hall turned the blank around so that Androtten could read the text of +his cable. "I'll let you in on my secret," he laughed. + +The Dutchman read the text. "Interesting," he said. "Damn interesting." + +"I'm afraid it's just routine." + +"Oh, never that." The Dutchman sighed. "When such vital personalities as +Senor Gamburdo are routine to you, Mr. Hall, I imagine that my story has +only a small chance of ever being told. But I suppose that is merely as +it should be." + +"Hell, no, Mr. Androtten. I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as I have +my interview with Gamburdo, we'll sit down and have our chat and then +I'll query the _Saturday Evening Post_ or _Collier's_ and whatever they +offer we'll split down the middle." + +"You make me happy as hell, Mr. Hall. But please, money is no object. +Please keep all of the money." + +Hall shook his head. "We'll fight that out later," he said. "Cigar?" + +Androtten demurred. His heart was not strong enough for cigars that +early in the morning, he explained. "In Java I was healthier than an +ox," he said. "But the damn Japanese ..." He let the rest of the +sentence remain unspoken. + +Through the open window of the dining room, Hall saw Pepe's LaSalle +drive up to the Bolivar. + +He excused himself with an "I'll be seeing you," and walked out to the +desk. He handed the cable blank to the day clerk. "Send it press rate +collect," he said. + +Pepe had a message for Hall from Souza. Ansaldo had returned to the +Bolivar at 3:14 A.M., twenty-three minutes before Wilhelm Androtten. +They had both left calls to be awakened at eight in the morning. + +"That all Souza said?" + +"That is the complete message." + +"Well, it's something, anyway." The papers said that Ansaldo was to +spend the morning at the bedside of President Tabio. + +"Where to?" + +"Gobernacion Building. But not right away. Drive somewhere where we can +have a coffee together. I'd like to talk to you first." + +Pepe took him to a little workers' restaurant on the edges of the +business section of New San Hermano. It was evident that he had had +little sleep. + +"Tired?" Hall asked. + +The driver whistled, softly. "Like a corpse," he admitted. + +An amused grimace distorted Hall's face. "What a corpse!" he said. "Why +didn't you tell the boys who followed the teachers and me from the cafe +last night to be better than the little dog?" + +"You saw them?" + +"I kept tripping over them all the way home." + +Pepe thought it was very funny. "They pledged their lives to protect +yours, the bunglers. Reliable, but clumsy." + +"I am not angry," Hall said. "I am grateful." + +"For nothing," Pepe protested. + +"Pepe, do you know why I came to San Hermano?" + +The big Asturian shrugged his shoulders. "You never told me, or +Fernando. Miguelito and his friend said you have the mouth of a clam." + +"Do you want to know why?" + +"I never question friends. You are a friend." + +Hall looked up at Pepe Delgado and wanted to tell him how much he +reminded him of the best of the men he had met in Spain, the best of the +officers and _milicianos_ who never, even in the heat of battle, forgot +the feelings and the sacred _dignidad_ of their fellow men. + +"Mother of God!" Pepe laughed. "Don't look at me as if I were that girl +with the red hair." + +"You are a good _companero_," Hall said. "In a few days, perhaps I can +tell you." + +"I never ask questions of friends," Pepe said. + +"I know. Did Souza tell you what I told him last night?" + +"No. Only about when Ansaldo and Androtten came back." + +"Can you reach Souza today?" + +"Of course." + +"Then listen. Tonight, he must find some excuse for moving me into the +room next to Ansaldo--if there is such a room. Do you think he can do +it?" + +Pepe grabbed the check for the coffee, refused to relinquish it to Hall. +"This is my table," he said with quiet dignity. He also refused to +discuss his fee for driving Hall around San Hermano for days. +"_Manana_," he laughed. "But about the room. I think Fernando can +arrange it. The wife of the owner of the Bolivar is a member of the +Centro Asturiano. She is also a first cousin of Dr. Gonzalez." + +"I hope he can do it," Hall said. + +"_Hola!_" Pepe boomed. "_Que tal?_" He exchanged loud pleasantries with +a chauffeur who came in and sat down at a table in the corner. + +"A Gallego," he explained to Hall. "But otherwise a pretty decent man." + +"There are many decent Gallegos," Hall said. + +Pepe whistled through his teeth, shook the limp and dangling fingers of +his right hand, and looked behind his back. Hall grinned. Pepe's gesture +was as old as Spain. + +"Listen, Pepe," he laughed, "we have much to do. And all in a very short +time. I am going to see the Press Secretary in the Gobernacion. I am +requesting an interview with Gamburdo." + +"Gamburdo is a _cabron_," Pepe said. + +"I know. In my eyes he is an _hijo de la gran puta_. But for the present +I want Gamburdo and his friends to think that I am an admirer of the +_cabrito_. Clear?" + +"I think I understand." + +"Good. Tell all of this to Souza when you drop me at Gobernacion. When +can you see him?" + +"I will try to see him at once." + +"_Bueno._ Let's go, then." + +In the car, Hall had a fresh idea. "This young Juan Antonio, the +teacher. Is he really a Communist?" + +"Yes." + +"Member of the party?" + +"Of course. He writes for _Mundo Obrero_ regularly." + +"Good. If you see him, ask him to go to the Communist headquarters and +from there to telephone a friend. From there, understand? Tell him to +call any friend. No, wait. Make it a friend in the office of _Mundo +Obrero_. I want him to denounce me to this friend as an admirer of +Gamburdo and an enemy of Tabio." + +"But why?" + +"I have an idea that Gamburdo has made some changes since he became +Acting President," Hall answered. "If he has, he's got some Cross and +Sword bastards listening in on all Communist phones." + +"It is possible," Pepe said. "I will discuss your idea with Juan +Antonio." + +"Talk him into it, Pepe." + +Pepe stopped the car in front of the Gobernacion building. He promised +to meet Hall at the Bolivar in two hours. + +Hall entered the polished marble corridors of the Gobernacion. There was +a popular song about this building. Hall thought of the words, written +by no known poet, and yet so well known in the nation that it had become +the unofficial anthem of the Hermanitos in the guerrilla armies which +had fought the Seguristas. Even today, after nearly three decades, San +Hermano youngsters learned the words from slightly older playmates when +they were barely old enough to play by themselves. Somehow, the kids of +the city sang a slightly less ribald version of the ballad of the +_edificio magnifico_ which cost the nation over twenty million pesos and +which, the song maintained, supported a village full of Don Augusto's +whores and bastards. + +"I want to see the Press Secretary," Hall told an attendant in the right +department. + +"So do I," the attendant laughed. "He resigned last week." + +"Didn't anyone take his place?" + +The attendant was a very old man. He leaned back in his chair and with +an eloquent look gave Hall to understand that he had completely lost +patience with the visitor. "_Chico_," he said, "no one could take Don +Pascual's place." + +"Please, _viejo_, I am in a hurry. Is anyone trying to take Don +Pascual's place?" + +"Ha!" The old man shifted in his chair. With withering scorn he raised +his arm and pointed a handful of gnarled brown fingers at a door marked +_Prensa_. There were many other men in San Hermano who pointed to things +with just that gesture. Hall recognized the gesture at once. He had seen +it for the first time in Geneva, when Anibal Tabio rose to make that +gesture toward the pile of captured Italian and German military +documents with which the Spaniards had tried to impress the League. + +Hall smiled with compassion at the figure of the old man imitating the +gesture of his idolized President. + +"Go in, go in," the old man said, petulantly. "Go in and see that burro +of a dolt who is _trying_ to take Don Pascual's place." + +"And has this burro a name?" + +"The burro has a name. It is Valenti. Now you made me say the +unspeakable name! Please, _chico_, in the name of my sainted mother and +the Educator, go away!" + +The old man's attitude told Hall more about what Gamburdo had already +done to the Press Bureau than he could have learned in a week of routine +digging. He handed the old man a cigar and a box of matches and walked +through the door to Valenti's office. He found himself in a small +anteroom facing a dark-haired girl pecking genteely at the keys of a +typewriter with creamy fingers whose long nails were painted a deep +blood red. She was immaculately groomed and pretty. + +"I would like to see Senor Valenti," he said. + +"Your name, Senor?" + +So you had voice training, too, he thought. "Matthew Hall," he said. "I +am a journalist from New York." + +"How nice!" The secretary switched to English immediately. There was +only the slightest suggestion of an accent to her English, and over the +faint Spanish intonations she tried to impose the broad a's of something +resembling the Oxford drawl. "It is quite a relief to speak English +during office hours, really." She pronounced it as "re-ahl-y." + +"Yours is a very good English, Miss ..." + +"Vardieno," she said. + +"Pick it up in school in San Hermano?" + +Miss Vardieno made a mouth of disdain. "Heavens, no!" she said. "Dad +sent me to finishing school in the States. Stuffy old place, but +charming in its own Adirondack way. Besides, I could always sneak down +to town for a week-end when it became too boring." + +"Of course," Hall smiled. "Nothing like good old New York to work off a +bore." + +"And how! What brings you to this forsaken village?" + +"Pan American Airways," he laughed. "There's a flight out of Miami every +two days they tell me." + +The girl laughed with him. "O.K.," she said. "I asked for it. I'll find +out if Mr. Valenti can see you now." She pushed her chair back and got +up, pausing mid-way long enough to give Hall a fleeting look at her +breasts with a casualness she had never learned in the Adirondacks. But +Hall had eyes only for the pendant which dangled at the end of a thin +platinum chain. When she sat at her desk or stood erect, Miss Vardieno's +Cross and Sword emblem sank neatly below the neck line of her blue New +York dress. + +"There are so many lovely sights in San Hermano," Hall sighed as the +girl walked into the private office. + +She was in the private office for quite some time. Emerging, she had +regained her finishing-school poise. "I am so sorry," she said. "Mr. +Valenti is tied up in a conference that will last for hours. Our +Congress opens in five days, you know, and what with the situation being +what it is, Mr. Hall, it is the feeling of the Press Director that it +will be impossible for any writer to obtain an interview with Mr. +Gamburdo until after the Congress convenes." + +Nice going, he thought. "An interview with the Vice-President? But how +did Mr. Valenti know that was what I wanted?" + +"I don't know, Mr. Hall. I guess he just presumed. Every one wants to +interview Mr. Gamburdo these days. If it keeps up I guess he'll make the +cover of _Time_, don't you think?" She sat down and propped up a flower +sagging over the rim of the crystal vase on her desk. "Our pretty +tropical blooms are too darned delicate, don't you think?" + +"Oh, yes," Hall said, thinking not of the broken blossom but of the +speed with which the text of his cable had reached Gamburdo's new Press +Secretary. + +Miss Vardieno brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her skirt. "Well, +anyway," she said in her best bored-with-it-all nuance, "he's going to +be a vast improvement over Tovarich Tabio." + +"I'll be seeing you," Hall said. + +"Don't be a stranger now," Miss Vardieno said. "It's such a relief to +speak English during office hours." + +Hall closed the door behind him and started to whistle the ballad about +the graft that built the marble halls of Gobernacion's _edificio +magnifico_. "You're right," he told the old attendant. "Valenti can +never wear Don Pascual's _pantalones_." + +The old man's dry cackle followed Hall down the swirling marble stairs. +Hall walked out to the Avenida de la Liberacion, looked in all +directions for the man who had followed him the night before. The yellow +straw hat was nowhere in sight. He turned his steps toward the +fashionable shopping district directly south on the avenue. If his +shadow were on him, he would flush him by walking down the broad, sunny +avenue. + +The shopping district brought no sign of the "little dog." Hall shopped +the plate-glass windows, hoping to catch a tell-tale glimpse of anyone +who might be on his heels. He went into a department store, bought a +tropical dinner suit, and arranged to have it altered and delivered to +the Bolivar at five. Then, after selecting a maroon tie and a shirt, he +found a phone booth and called Fielding's office. + +A Spanish-speaking secretary answered the phone. Fielding was in Alcala +at an auction, she said. "Please have him call Father Arupe's +secretary," Hall said. + +The hot noon-day sun forced Hall to abandon his ideas of taking a +leisurely stroll to the Bolivar. He found a rickety cab and relaxed on +the dusty cushions. Fielding was the man he needed now, Fielding might +be able to make Androtten show his cards, Fielding might have some of +the answers about the new Press Chief and his brand-new secretary. And +if Souza could find out who owned the Renault Androtten and the little +dog used, maybe Fielding could tie the information into some of his own +data and come up with something. Then when the boys in Havana answered +that screwy letter perhaps they'd all have something to go by. In three +days at the outside there would be word from Havana. Three days of +waiting and accepting Souza and Pepe and even Fielding on faith. + +At the Bolivar, the desk clerk told Hall that Pepe had called to say +that he was having some minor engine trouble and would be delayed for +about an hour. Hall noted the word "minor" and put it down to a delay in +reaching Souza or Juan Antonio. He ordered a jug of iced pineapple juice +sent up and went to his room. The long walk down the Avenida de la +Liberacion under the broiling sun had covered Hall with sweat. He +stripped and went to the bathroom. A slow gust of air hissed out of the +faucets when Hall turned the taps. He washed his face with cold water at +the basin while waiting for the pressure to force up the water to the +bath faucets. + +But no water came. The hissing ceased, the faucets went bone dry. Hall +phoned the news down to the desk. + +"I am so sorry, Senor," the clerk said. "But all the baths on your line +seem to have gone dry. The manager has sent for a plumber." + +Hall stretched out on his bed and tried to relax. + +The desk clerk phoned him back. "Can I send the plumber up?" he asked. + +"Sure." Hall put on his pants and a pair of slippers. More than anything +else, at this moment, he wanted to wallow in a cold tub. The plumber, +who looked enough like Pepe Delgado to be his twin, had other ideas. + +"It is very serious, Senor," he complained. "There will be no water from +these rotted pipes in a century." He banged the pipes with one tool and +twisted them with another, cursing them as he worked. "It is very +serious," he concluded. "I can do nothing on them today." + +"Mother of God!" Hall said, and then he saw the sly smile on the +plumber's massive face. + +"Even She couldn't get any water from these pipes," the plumber said. + +"How am I going to bathe?" + +"Who knows? Maybe the manager will give you another room where the bath +still works." + +"Maybe. Well, thanks for trying." + +"For nothing, Senor." The plumber picked up his tools and left. + +Hall dressed and joined Pepe in the car. "What did the plumber say?" +Pepe asked. + +"Enough. Let's have a quick lunch somewhere." + +"Souza is changing your room tonight. He is also changing the rooms of +four other guests. They have no water either." + +"Good work. Where are we eating?" + +"When I stop the car you'll find out." + +"Is the plumber your brother?" + +"My cousin. I also spoke to Juan Antonio. He made that telephone call." + +"Are you very hungry?" Hall asked. "I want to buy you half a steer." + +"I could eat half a steer, _companero_. And I know where to get it, +too." He drove to an old garden restaurant near the beach. "Here they +serve the best meat in San Hermano. And at low prices, too." + +Pepe did ample justice to a tremendous steak. He washed it down with a +quart of beer, chiding Hall for confining his luncheon to a simple +roast-beef sandwich. "Such food is all right for little children, Senor +Hall. But you are a man." + +"Call me Mateo." + +"You should eat like a man, _Companero_ Mateo." + +"I don't feel like eating." + +"Then go to a good doctor. Or take that red-headed woman into your bed +for a night. You'd eat in the morning, _chico_!" + +Hall laughed. "I'd rather see a doctor," he said. + +"A doctor?" Pepe grew serious. "Is anything wrong?" + +"Who knows? This Dr. Gonzales you mentioned. Is he a medico?" + +"Yes. Would you like to see him, _Companero_ Mateo?" + +"Could we see him after lunch?" + +"Now is the best time. He's surely taking a little siesta, and it is +better not to telephone. His daughter is at school all day. Come on, +I'll drive you over." + +They got into the car and Pepe swung into a street with a trolley track +that led them to a middle-class suburb. He stopped in front of a gray +frame house similar to any doctor's house in an American town. A fat and +ancient Persian cat was sleeping in the shadiest part of the porch. Pepe +meowed at the cat. She opened a lazy eye, yawned, and went back to +sleep. + +"The cat and her master always take their siesta at the same time," Pepe +explained. "It is a very intelligent cat." He opened the screen door. + +"Is there no bell?" + +"He disconnects the bell when he naps." Pepe led Hall into a cool, +shaded living room. There was no rug on the highly polished redwood +floor. The furniture was made by native craftsmen of bamboo and wicker, +although the designs reflected the functional modernism of the Bauhaus +school. It was the first modern furniture Hall had ever seen in South +America. + +Pepe noticed Hall's interest. "The doctor has many peasant projects," he +explained. "He brought some Spanish refugees from Madrid to the country +to teach the peasants how to make good furniture. They have a big +co-operative shop in the southern province near the Little River. Sit +down in one of these new chairs. I'll get him." + +Hall relaxed in one of the low-slung chairs while Pepe went to the rear +part of the house. "He's not on the couch in his office," Pepe said. He +went to the foot of the stairs leading into the foyer. "_Hola!_ It's +Delgado! _Hola!_ Don Manuel, it's Delgado!" His shouts would have roused +the dead. He turned around and winked to Hall. "_Abajo_ Anibal Tabio!" +he shouted. "_Viva_ Gamburdo! _Viva_ Segura! _Abajo_ Tabio!" + +Upstairs there was the sound of a book or a heavy shoe dropping to the +floor. "Bandit!" someone shouted, and then a tall graying man in his +stockinged feet shuffled to the head of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and +cursing Pepe with a mock cantankerousness. "_Bulto_," he shouted. "Give +a man a chance to put on his shoes. Show some respect for my degrees!" + +Pepe made a low, courtly stage bow. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," he +pleaded. "I am only a simple petitioner." + +"_Momentico, companero._" The doctor went to his room for a pair of +huaraches. + +"Doctor, I want you to meet _Companero_ Mateo Hall." + +"_Companero_ Hall!" The doctor started to speak English. "It is so good +to finally meet you. Don Anibal gave me your book on Spain for Christmas +when it was printed. He spoke to me about you very highly. Please, sit +down. You will find these chairs very comfortable." + +"Pepe has been telling me about your co-operative." + +"It is not very large. Here, try this chair. It is my favorite." + +Pepe reminded the doctor that Hall was in need of his professional +services. "Excuse my bad manners, doctor," he said, "but when you start +to talk about your projects ..." + +"He is right," the doctor smiled. "Sometimes I do talk too much. I like +to talk, even when people don't really listen to me. Even in my sleep I +talk. About many things. Art. Weaving. World politics. The war." + +"I like to listen," Hall said. "Where did you learn your English, +doctor?" + +"My English?" The doctor leaned back in his chair, the smile of a man +enjoying a highly private joke on his face. "I am afraid, _companero_, +that I learned my English in the same sort of a place where you learned +your excellent Spanish. That is, in a dungeon built by the Kings of +Spain." + +"In Spain?" + +"No. I am not a Spaniard. My grandfathers were Spaniards, but my father +and I were born here." He pointed to a framed flag of the Republic which +hung on the wall over Hall's chair. "That flag hung in my cell in El +Moro for three years, and that flag was in my hands the day Segura's +death opened the prison gates to all of us." The doctor was not aware +that he was now speaking in Spanish. + +"The doctor was in El Moro with Don Anibal," Pepe said. + +"That is true," the doctor admitted. "Nearly every patriot on the +faculty and so many of the students were there, too. I had just taken my +degree in medicine but I was still at the University as an instructor in +biology when the arrests began. But don't think it was all tears and +terror. Don Anibal and his late cousin Federico formed the so-called +University Behind Bars. We had Chairs in Latin, English, biology, +history, art, literature--everything. The soldiers, who were with us, +smuggled in our books and papers. Later, when the Seguristas were out of +power, the students who were in prison were able to take their +examinations in the University of San Hermano, and the new Regents gave +them full academic credit for their studies at El Moro." + +"He is a sick man, doctor," Pepe said. "Examine him first and talk to +him later." + +"Pepe is right, _Companero_ Hall. I do talk too much." + +"Nonsense. Any man who did three years in jail has a lot of talking to +catch up on when he gets out." + +"Will the examination take very long?" Pepe asked. "I have to go back to +town. I can pick you up later." + +"Have you an hour?" the doctor asked Hall. + +"I have all day." + +Pepe got up. "I'll be back in two hours," he laughed. He walked out to +the porch. They heard him meow at the cat. Then the cat screeched and +Pepe howled. + +"A cat is never completely civilized," Dr. Gonzales said. "Poor Pepe +refuses to believe it. And now Grisita has scratched him again." + +"Your wild beast!" Pepe roared. "She clawed me!" + +"Come inside, and I'll fix it, Pepe." + +"No, thanks. I've got iodine in my car." + +Hall expected the doctor to be amused. Instead, a wave of profound +sadness gripped the man. He took out a pocket handkerchief and ran it +over his forehead. "What's wrong, doctor?" + +"Not much," Gonzales said. "I just can't stand the way they spare me. +Since my illness it's been hell. For twelve years I was the National +Minister of public health education. Don Anibal appointed me when he was +Minister of Education. He created the job for me. Now I live on a +pension, and outside of the few hours I put in every week as a +consultant at the University and my handicraft projects, I do nothing. +Biologically I am now a vegetable. And my good friends, the people of +San Hermano ..." + +"_Claro._ You mean they are too kind ..." + +The doctor nodded. "But they are my friends," he said. "They do not do +this to hurt me. And now, what bothers you?" + +"My back. I think that I may have strained it." + +"I can examine you better in my office. It's in the next room." + +"Thank you. But first, I'd like to talk to you about some other things. +I don't know what's going on, but I do know that something is wrong. I +knew Don Anibal in Geneva, and I know that if he were well, your country +would break with the Axis...." + +The doctor sighed. "You are not alone," he said. "Don Anibal is a very +sick man. No one seems to know what is wrong, exactly. He is paralyzed +from the hips down, and he grows weaker every day. The mind is still +strong, but it must rest so much that none of us dare to tax Don Anibal +with worries other than his health. In the meanwhile, Gamburdo has taken +over." + +"And Gamburdo? Is he honest?" + +"Gamburdo is not a man of good will. He is a clever lawyer and a very +intelligent man. His family prospered under Segura, but the General +seduced a Gamburdo daughter, and that turned them against the +Seguristas. Gamburdo volunteered his services as a lawyer when Tabio and +the Republican junta was in jail. But this offer was a calculating +gamble. He knew that Segura's days were numbered; he knew that the +leaders of the junta would be the new government of the nation. He +joined the Party of Radical Socialism, but when he became its head, he +saw to it that, like himself, the party became neither radical nor +socialist." + +"He was for Franco, you know," Hall said. + +"I know. He was for Franco and the Falange and against Tabio. But he is +very intelligent. He managed to keep these things nicely hidden. When +Tabio was elected President and created the new government of national +unity, Gamburdo joined forces with Don Anibal--but only to destroy this +unity from within. + +"This is the least of his sins. It seems that he has kept all the +Republican doctors from the Presidencia. The only doctors Gamburdo has +permitted are the reactionaries, the old servants of the Seguristas. We +tried to talk to Don Anibal, but you know him and his saintly faith in +the goodness of Man. I think that, deliberately, he has placed his life +in Gamburdo's hands as a lesson to all of his old friends in the need +for real unity. It is as if he means to prove to us, by getting well, +that unity is the most important issue in the nation today." + +"And Dr. Ansaldo? Is he really good?" + +"He has a great reputation. But it is a gamble for Gamburdo alone. If +Don Anibal recovers, Gamburdo and his friends will say that it was a +Spaniard who saved the President. If he dies--even a great Spanish +doctor could not save him. Either way, Gamburdo stands to gain." + +In the office Hall took a chair facing the microscope on the doctor's +white enameled metal desk. He watched the doctor hunt through the +instrument cases along the wall. On a lower shelf, the doctor found his +stethoscope. + +"Would you please remove your shirt?" + +Hall shook his head. "No," he said. He gently took the stethoscope from +the doctor's hands, carefully folded it and put it away in a small +wooden box he found on the desk. "This is what I really came for, +doctor." + +"My stethoscope?" + +"Exactly." He explained to the doctor that with such instruments one +could easily hear through an average indoor wall. "I have a queer +feeling," he said, "that with your stethoscope I can perhaps get a hint +as to what is actually wrong with Don Anibal,--or, at least, in San +Hermano." + +The doctor gave Hall his hand. "I won't ask you any questions," he said. +"But may I wish you luck?" + +"Thank you." + +"Now let me fix you a cold drink. I'm not very good in the kitchen, but +we'll see what we can both do." + +Pepe returned with news for Hall about the change of rooms at the hotel. +Hall now had the room next to Ansaldo's sitting room. He also told him +that the Spanish Republican societies were planning an _homenaje_ for +Hall. "They formed a committee to arrange it with you, but I told them +that you didn't want to see them until next week." + +"I hope you were pleasant," Hall said. + +"Of course I was, Mateo. I just thought you didn't want too much noise +about you in San Hermano for the next few days." + +"Maybe you're right, Pepe." + +"What do you want to do now?" + +"Take a bath. I'm going to a party at the American Embassy tonight. But +tomorrow I think we'll have a lot of work to do, _companero_." + +"I wonder what happened to the little dog?" + +"Maybe I'll know some more about him tonight." + +"What have you got in the box?" + +"Medicine." + +Pepe snorted. "_Mierda!_" he laughed. "What you really need is ..." + +"I know," Hall said, sharply. "That girl with the red hair." + +"Excuse me," Pepe said. "I am not a doctor." + +"You are too modest, _ilustre_." + +"Have a good time tonight. I'll be waiting for you in the morning. Or, +if you change your mind, leave word with Fernando." + +"Good. Until tomorrow, then." Hall got the key to his new room from the +clerk, as well as the packages he had ordered earlier in the day. + +The new room was larger than the other one. His clothes and bags had +already been moved in, and the chambermaid had made a creditable effort +to put them away as Hall had previously done. Hall went to the window, +saw that it looked out on the Plaza. He adjusted his window shutters for +privacy. The wall between his room and Ansaldo's sitting room had only a +bureau against it. Hall moved the chest slightly to one side, made room +for a small, solid chair. Then he took his bath. + +He was shaving when he heard Ansaldo return to the Bolivar. He wrapped a +towel around his middle, put the plastic prongs of the stethoscope in +his ears, and sat down on the little chair facing the wall. The hearing +end of the stethoscope picked up only footsteps. The sounds told their +own story. The man in the next room was walking to the window, then +opening the shutters, then sitting on the couch. There were other +footsteps, lighter and less pronounced. Perhaps another person in the +room was wearing soft slippers or going barefooted, like Hall himself. + +"Are you tired, _ilustre_?" It was Marina. + +"No. Why should I be tired?" Ansaldo. + +Marina giggled. + +"Did you find out?" Ansaldo asked. + +"Not yet, _ilustre_. What was it like to examine Tovarich Tabio?" + +Ansaldo laughed. "Let me take care of the Tovarich, please. And don't +act too happy at the Embassy tonight." + +"I am not a fool, _ilustre_. Didn't the Caudillo himself personally +decorate me for bravery?" + +"Now you are being a boor. I detest boors." + +"I am sorry, _ilustre_." + +"Try to find out if they are coming in tonight." + +"They would not be coming by Clipper," Marina said. "Too dangerous." + +There was the rustle of paper, followed by the padded footsteps. Then +someone--Hall guessed it was Marina--sat down in a creaky armchair. The +man with the shoes got up and walked in the direction opposite from +Hall's room. Hall heard a door open, followed a few seconds later by the +rush of water into a tub. He remained in his chair, his stethoscope +still against the plaster. + +The phone near Hall's bed started to ring. He got up very quietly, +tiptoed over to the bed. He hid the stethoscope under his pillow before +he answered. + +"Hello, it's me." + +"Yeah, Jerry." + +"Speak louder. I can't hear you." + +"Sure." He went on speaking with his hand around the mouthpiece to +muffle the sound. "Can you hear me now?" + +"Just about. Listen, I've got lots to tell you. I was with Doctor when +he examined the President, and he was magnificent!" + +"The patient?" + +"No, you dope. The doctor. What are you doing now?" + +"Nothing. Getting dressed." + +"Me too. Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about it." + +"Right now?" + +Jerry laughed. + +"I know," he said. "You're not wearing a thing at the moment." + +"Just a second. There. Now you're right about one thing, anyway." + +"Don't tempt me," he warned. "I might decide to check up for myself." + +"Not now you won't! Meet you downstairs in about twenty minutes. O.K.?" + +Hall finished his shave and dressed, toying all the while with the +notion of walking down the corridor to Jerry's room before she had a +chance to leave. Pepe would heartily approve, he thought, and, besides, +since that hour in the woods on top of Monte Azul, Jerry had not exactly +indicated that he would be unwelcome if he made a try. But while he +speculated, Jerry phoned him again from downstairs. "Daydreaming?" she +asked, and he answered, "Yes, about you." + +She met him at the elevator in the lobby. "Come on," she laughed, "let's +go to that place in back of the Cathedral. The little Dutch drip was +around here a second ago. He wants to tell you the story of his life, he +told me." + +"O.K. Let's just keep walking." + +She took his arm as they left the hotel. "Miss me?" she asked. + +"I did." + +"You're a liar." + +Hall winced. "Is that the best you have to say? How about the +magnificent doctor?" + +"He's really good, Matt. I'm not kidding. I've worked with some corking +medics in my day, but this guy is tops." She told Hall about the +masterly way in which Ansaldo had taken command of the situation, +kicking all the San Hermano doctors out of the sick room and examining +Tabio only in the presence of Marina, Jerry and Tabio's son. + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"Ansaldo has an idea. But he has to make certain." + +"What does it look like to you?" + +"It could be many things. What's good to drink here?" + +"Anything. Scotch and soda?" + +"Oke. But really, Matt, you should have seen Doctor in that sick room." +She launched into a long and enthusiastic account of the doctor at work. + +The girl was on the point of repeating herself when Hall cut her short. +"Listen," he said. "Let me tell you something about Anibal Tabio and his +generation of young democrats who walked out of jail and started to make +history." He told her of the schools and the hospitals which had been +built in the country in the last decade, of the minimum-wage laws, of +the work of Tabio followers like Dr. Gonzales. + +He told her how he first met Tabio in Geneva. "His was supposed to be +just a small voice in the League; a little South American dressing to +make the whole show look good. But a month after he got there, Mussolini +started to pop his goo-goo eyes at Ethiopia. Hoare and Laval and Halifax +were so nice and ready to give the Italian steamroller a healthy shove +downhill to Addis Ababa. Then one afternoon Litvinov got up to fire some +heavy shots. But that was expected. Then del Vayo started, and the fun +began. Because, when Vayo was through, it was Tabio's turn. And lady, +what Anibal Tabio did to hot shots like Hoare and Laval without even +raising his voice was just plain murder." + +Jerry put her hand on Hall's arm. "I suppose I read about it in the +papers at the time. It didn't mean much to me then. I'm afraid it didn't +mean much to me until right now, Matt." + +"Weren't you interested in what happened in the world?" + +"Not too much, I'm afraid. I was interested in myself. I was making up +my mind to go to Reno, and then I sat in Reno for six weeks cramming on +my old school books, and then I was off to nursing school." + +"Didn't Ethiopia, and later Spain, make any impression upon you?" Hall's +question was very gently stated. + +"Of course it did, Matt. I was sorry for the Africans and I was sorry +for the Spaniards. I wanted Mussolini to get licked and I wanted the +Loyalists to win. But most of all I wanted to get through nursing school +and then earn enough money to study medicine." + +"In other words, if Geraldine Olmstead got her M.D., all would be right +with the world, eh?" + +She avoided his eyes. "It sounds stupid and mean," she said. "But I +guess I deserve it. I'm afraid that was the idea." + +"When did the idea die?" + +"About ten seconds ago, when you put it into words," she admitted. "I +never thought of it in that way before. But I wasn't the only one, +Matt." + +"Hell, no! You were in a majority when the war started. The whole +country was sitting back and, as it thought, minding its own business. +We thought we were wonderfully immune until the bombs began to drop on +Pearl Harbor." + +"Now you're being gallant," she laughed. "There were plenty of people in +the country like--like you, Matt. Have we time for another drink?" + +Hall was staring into space. Suddenly he exploded. "_Madre de Dios!_ Now +I remember!" + +"Remember what? You look like you've seen a ghost." + +"I have." Hall tapped his head. "In here." + +Jerry laughed. "I wish someone would come along and tell me what this is +all about." + +"There's no time. Let's get back to the hotel. I've got to change +clothes and there's a guy I want to see before I go to the party." + +"But what's it all about?" + +"I'll tell you later." + +Walking back to the hotel, he asked Jerry if she had ever found the +solution to a problem in a dream. "Because just now I did. Do you +remember when you woke me up this morning that I sounded like a guy in a +fog? Well, I was. But just a few minutes ago at that table on the +sidewalk, the fog lifted." + +"And now you feel better?" + +"Sure. It's all over." + +"I think you're lying. I think that whatever it is, it's just +beginning." + +"No. It's over." + +Jerry was right. But what she did not know was that the fog had lifted +on Dr. Varela Ansaldo. The doctor was the Spanish officer of Hall's +dream, the one at whose back Hall hurled the knife. And at the table, +sipping his second drink, Hall had recalled in a flash where he had seen +Varela Ansaldo before. It had happened in Burgos, in April of 1938, +during a review of the 12th Division of the fascist army. Ansaldo, +wearing the uniform of a Franco major, with a big Falange yoke and +arrows sewn over the left breast pocket, had shared a bench on the +reviewing stand with an Italian and a German officer. Directly behind +them, on that day, had flown the flags of Imperial Spain, The Falange, +Nazi Germany and fascist Italy. Hall remembered the tableau vividly, +remembered so clearly perhaps because while watching the review from the +sidewalk he had been annoyed by the staff photographer of Franco's +_Arriba_, who must have shot a hundred pictures of the officials in the +stands that day and who had also shoved Hall aside or stepped on his +toes before shooting each picture. + +"I'll see you at the Embassy tonight," he said. + +"Oke. But get that scowl off your face first," she smiled. "You promised +to be nice tonight, and right now you look as if you are planning to +kill someone with your bare hands." + + + + +_Chapter six_ + + +The American Embassy was three blocks beyond the Presidencia. Hall +wanted to walk to the party, but when he reached the street he became +self-conscious about his palm-beach tuxedo jacket, and he hailed a +strange cab. + +The Embassy was housed in an old Spanish palace which a former +Ambassador had left to the United States Government in his will. After +the first World War, when the government had taken title to the palace, +Washington sent an architect and an office efficiency man to San Hermano +to redesign the structure. The outside remained more or less intact. But +inside, many changes had been effected. The spacious street floor, +designed as the slave quarters in the seventeenth century and later +converted to storerooms and servants' quarters, was now a hive of +offices and waiting rooms. The second floor was devoted largely to a +tremendous ballroom, a state dining room, and the tapestried private +offices of the Ambassador himself. The living quarters of the Ambassador +took up the third floor, while the low-ceilinged fourth floor, +originally designed for soldiers, was now given over to servants' rooms. + +A secretary at the entrance checked Hall's name off against a list on a +teak table. He took the carpeted stairs to the ballroom. Two butlers +stood at a screen in the doorway to the big room. The first butler +announced his name, but not loud enough to disturb any of the +Ambassador's two hundred-odd guests. The second butler nodded to Hall, +and led the way through a maze of dignitaries, diplomats' wives, and +young people trying to dance to the music a rumba band was producing +from a bandstand in a corner. Hall followed him patiently, looking for a +sign of Jerry's red hair. The butler nodded gravely at a young girl +dancing with a thin Latin in tails. She left her dancing partner and +advanced on Hall with an outstretched hand. + +"Mr. Matthew Hall, Miss Margaret," the butler whispered. + +"I'm so glad you came, Mr. Hall. I'm Margaret Skidmore." Her hand, thin +and remarkably strong, was covered with a white net glove that reached +to her elbow. + +"It's nice of you to have me," Hall said. + +Margaret Skidmore took his arm. "We must get you a drink," she said, +"and introduce you to some of the more interesting people here. And oh, +yes, to my father. But I warn you, he's not in the first category." She +was short; much smaller than Jerry, Hall thought, but a bird of a +different color. As they crossed the room, a wisp of the black hair +piled on top of her head dropped over her eye. Hall was amused by the +way she blew the hair to one side twice before deciding to lift it with +her gloved hand. + +"This is my Dad's favorite punch," she said at the buffet table. "I +forgot to tell you that the party is to celebrate the third anniversary +of his mission." + +Hall ladled out two cups. "Here's to the next three years," he toasted. + +"The next three years are the ones that will count," Margaret Skidmore +said. She was smiling at Hall and at some other guests when she said it, +but it was not polite banter. + +"The Press Secretary of the Embassy is sore at you," she said. "He's +angry because you tried to get to Gamburdo without him." + +"I'm sorry," Hall said. "If you'll introduce me to him, I'll try to make +amends." + +"Don't bother," she laughed. "Smitty's a stuffed shirt who needs to be +taken down a peg or two. But I must say that you look a lot different +than I thought you would, Mr. Hall." + +"I know. I'm supposed to look like a hero and I have the face of a mugg. +Or a gorilla." He was still looking for Jerry. "You're a surprise, too." + +"Am I so different?" There was coquettish amusement in her hazel eyes. +She tilted her fragile doll's nose, forced a haughty cast to her +small-girl's face. "Is an Ambassador's daughter supposed to be a +high-and-mighty lady like this?" + +"No. I like you better the other way." + +"Thanks. It's my only way." + +Hall spotted Jerry on the dance floor with Varela Ansaldo. Jerry looked +very happy, and Ansaldo had lost some of his undertaker's grimness. He +tried in vain to catch her eye. + +"Here comes my father." + +Hall found himself shaking hands with a portly, middle-aged American who +wore tails as if to the manor born. J. Burton Skidmore had the most +imposing head of wavy gray hair in the entire hemisphere, and he knew +it. His face, still ruddy and youngish, was pink and smelled of fine +cologne. + +"_Con mucho gusto_," the Ambassador said, holding Hall's hand and bowing +slightly from the waist. + +"I'm glad to meet you, sir," Hall said. + +"Father, Mr. Hall is an American. He is Matthew Hall, the writer. You +know. Matthew Hall." The childish, well-bred-daughter smile on Margaret +Skidmore's face could not conceal the acid contempt in her voice. "Mr. +Hall is an American, from New York." + +"Oh, yes, oh, yes, indeed. Hall. Of course, Mr. Hall. Been in San +Hermano long, Mr. Hall?" + +"No, sir. Less than a week." + +"Fine place, Mr. Hall. Fine people. Have you met Smitty yet? Dear, have +you seen Smitty? I think he and Mr.--Mr. Hall could find much in common, +Margaret." + +"Tomorrow," Margaret Skidmore said, and the Ambassador helped himself to +a cup of punch. + +"_Amigo Mateo!_" + +Without turning around, Hall said, in Spanish, "Only one man in all the +world has a scratchy voice like that," and then he turned around and +embraced Felipe Duarte. + +"What brings you to San Hermano?" he asked Duarte. + +"I am now a diplomat. First Counselor of the Mexican Embassy in San +Hermano and guest professor of literature at the University." + +Hall and Duarte had last met in Spain, where Duarte had served as a +Lieutenant-Colonel with the regular Spanish People's Army. "_Coronel_ +Pancho Villa" was the name his men gave him, and the thin, gangling +Mexican scholar had fought like a terror to live up to this name. Of +Duarte, the General Staff officers said that he was as bad a strategist +as he was brave a man, which would have made him one of the worst +strategists in military history. But during the Ebro retreat, Duarte had +taught the veteran professional officers a few things about the tactics +of guerrilla warfare which raised his standing as a soldier. + +Duarte took Margaret Skidmore's hand and raised it to his lips. +"_Enchante_," he sighed, and she knew at once that he was laughing at +her. + +"Senor Ambassador," Duarte said, speaking rapid Spanish, "this is one of +the most magnificent parties I have ever attended. How do you manage to +give such splendid parties with only your chit of a daughter to help you +shove food down the ulcerous throats of these sons of whore mothers, +dear Senor Ambassador? It is stupendous. It is colossal." + +The Ambassador smiled, shook Duarte's hand, and bowing slightly, he +murmured, "_Con mucho gusto_." Then, still smiling, he turned and walked +away. + +"Don't let this guy fool you," Hall said to the Ambassador's daughter. +"He speaks English as well as we do." + +"Better," Duarte said. "Ah learned mah English in Texas, Ah'll have +yo'all know, suh. And Mateo, don't let Margaret's innocent smile fool +you. She knows almost enough Spanish to know what I just told her +distinguished papa." + +"Some day I'm going to know enough," Margaret laughed. "And when I do, +you're going to get your face slapped in front of everyone, I'm afraid. +Tell me, Mateo, does _hijos de la gran puta_ mean what I think it does?" + +"That sounds like slang to me," Hall said. "I learned my Spanish on the +Linguaphone." + +"You're a fast boy, Matt," she said. "Call me Margaret, if you wish." +She straightened Hall's tie with a perfumed glove. "I'll give you a +little time with Felipe, and then I'll steal you back. There are many +people here tonight who want to meet you." + +"Hurry back," Duarte said. "He bores me stiff when I have him on my +hands too long." + +"You bastard," Hall said. "You're a diplomat now. Don't you ever stop +clowning?" + +"Sure. When I kill fascists I am very serious. You know that, Mateo. But +here, if I did not clown, I would die of boredom. For example, when +Skidmore gives a party, the politicos in my Embassy, they all find +reasons for being out of town. I am not a politico. I am a professor of +literature and a killer of fascists, by profession; a diplomat because +someone wanted to do Lombardo a favor and at the same time remove my +face from the domestic scene. _Claro?_ So it is clown or die. And if I +must die, I prefer to die having a second crack at Franco." + +"_Claro, amigo._ But must you wear a suit like this one?" + +Duarte's evening clothes were his cloak of independence. He wore a cheap +tuxedo he had bought in New York for twenty dollars and a pair of worn +patent-leather shoes that creaked as he walked. On state occasions, he +wore the medals he had earned on the battlefields in Spain. For private +parties, he simply wore an enameled gold Mexican flag on his lapel. +Tonight, he wore only the flag. + +All this he explained to Hall in his gay, rasping Spanish. "When the +Falangist Embassy was still on good terms, I wore my Republican medals +all the time. But just before Don Anibal took sick, he insulted the +Caudillo in a speech before the University faculty, and when the Franco +Ambassador called to ask for an apology Tabio told him that the truth +called for no apologies. So the Caudillo got sore and he called his +Ambassador home. The Embassy is still open, but a clerk is in charge, +and there isn't a Spanish diplomat in San Hermano of high enough +standing to be invited to any Embassy." + +Jerry joined them, and when Hall presented her to Duarte, the Mexican +kissed her hand and murmured, "_Enchante_." + +"Miss Olmstead is Dr. Ansaldo's nurse," Hall said. + +"How very interesting," Duarte said. "May I have this dance with the +nurse of Dr. Ansaldo?" and before she had a chance to say that her feet +were killing her, the dexterous Duarte was guiding her through the steps +of an intricate rumba he improvised at that moment. + +Hall took another glass of punch. Duarte was his friend, but at the +moment he wanted to break his neck. He wanted Jerry for himself, and he +hated the idea of admitting or showing it. He watched them so intently +that he failed to see Margaret return to the punch bowl. + +"Deserted?" she asked. "Our friend Felipe would desert his mother for a +redhead." + +"He's quite a guy," Hall laughed. + +"Come on," she said. "There's a crowd that's been dying to meet you. The +country's biggest publisher and some of the more important business +men." + +"Fernandez?" + +"That's right. He publishes _El Imparcial_. Confidentially, his paper is +getting the Cabot Prize this year. Dad arranged it." + +Fernandez was standing with a group of three Hermanitos and a blonde +fortyish woman in a tight dress whom Hall recognized instantly as an +American. "I'm Giselle Prescott," she said, her smile revealing flecks +of lipstick on her yellow teeth. + +"Take care of the amenities, will you, Gis?" Margaret Skidmore said. +"Dad is flagging me over at the other end." She picked up her skirts, +hurried to her father's rescue. + +Giselle Prescott introduced Hall to Jose Fernandez, tall, handsome, in +his early fifties. Fernandez presented him to Segundo Vardieno, +Francisco Davila, and Alfonso Quinones. Davila was a man of one age and +build with Fernandez, the other two were shorter and about ten years +younger. Breathlessly, Giselle Prescott told Hall that Vardieno and +Quinones were among the ten largest landowners in the nation, and Davila +its leading attorney. They all made modest denials. + +Quinones asked Giselle to dance, and she accepted gladly. Her myriad +blonde ringlets neatly blocked her partner's forward view. + +"Very accomplished writer," Hall said. "In the popular magazine field, +Miss Prescott is supreme." + +"She is very able," Davila said. Like Quinones and Vardieno, he wore the +emblem of the Cross and the Sword in his lapel. Fernandez wore only the +ribbon of the French Legion of Honor. + +"My niece told me that you had some difficulties at the Press Bureau +today," Vardieno said. + +"Your niece?" Then he remembered the golden Cross and Sword dangling +from the thin golden chain. "Oh, yes, the young lady who speaks English +so well." + +Vardieno explained to Fernandez that Hall had been unable to arrange for +an interview with Gamburdo. "Don't you think you could help Senor Hall?" +Davila asked, and Fernandez assured the three men that the matter would +be taken care of in the morning. Of course, it might not be possible +until after the Congress convened, but then politics in San Hermano +being what they were, the illustrious colleague from North America would +surely be understanding. + +"What's the inside on the political picture?" Hall asked, and the three +men, talking in unison and talking singly gave him one picture. + +Their picture was very detailed. "El Tovarich--our Red President, you +know," had lined up the unruly elements behind a dangerous program of +confiscating the estates of their rightful owners and turning them over +to communist gunmen. In addition to this land-piracy scheme, Tabio also +intended to drive the Catholic Church underground and impose heavy +penalty taxes on the parents who sent their children to Catholic +parochial schools. To aid in this program, Tabio was throwing open the +gates of the nation to Red agitators disguised as Jewish and Spanish +refugees. + +"So it's as bad as that," Hall said. + +"Worse." Fernandez looked around him. "Come closer," he said. "There's +something I must tell you about your own safety." + +"My safety?" + +"Yes, Senor." Fernandez had his right hand on Hall's shoulder. "Late +this afternoon I received a confidential information that the Communist +Party in San Hermano had privately denounced you to its members." + +"Denounced me? But why?" + +"Yes, Senor. And it was a most dangerous denunciation, too. A prominent +communist leader telephoned the editor of the official Red paper and +denounced you for being an enemy of Tovarich Tabio and a supporter of +Senor Gamburdo." + +Hall smiled. "But that couldn't be so bad," he demurred. "The Reds are +always denouncing someone. Tomorrow the Communist Party paper will +attack me as a fascist, and I guess that will be the end of the whole +thing." + +"No, that is not what will happen," Segundo Vardieno insisted. "Tell him +the rest of the information, Don Jose." + +Again Jose Fernandez looked around to make sure that he was not being +overheard. "Senor Vardieno is right, my friend. You see," he said, "the +Red who phoned the _Mundo Obrero_ ordered the editor _not_ to print a +word about you--yet. Do you understand what that means?" + +Davila, the lawyer, explained. "What Don Jose means," he said, "is that +a secret denunciation generally precedes an assassination. You see, +Senor Hall, if the Reds denounce you in their press, you would be marked +before the world as an enemy of the Tovarich. Then, if anything happened +to you--they are not only blameless, but even after killing you they can +make great propaganda about how the alleged fascists killed you because +you are a noted American patriot who stands for free enterprise." + +"Pretty clever," Hall said. + +"Jewish cleverness!" Segundo Vardieno was shaking with rage. "Give a Jew +a hundred pesos and in a day he has a thousand and you'll never know how +he did it. But will he apply his cleverness for the good of the country? +No! Only for communism." + +"Is Tabio a Jew?" Hall asked. + +"Confidentially," Vardieno answered, "El Tovarich is a Sephardic Jew. +But we're not making it public because we are gentlemen." + +"And only because we are gentlemen," Fernandez added. "I don't think El +Tovarich will be among us much longer." + +"Is he really that sick?" + +"Oh, yes," Davila said. "You know what happened to him, don't you? No? +Well, it's almost like the Hand of Divine Retribution." He told Hall +that Tabio had turned over to one of his henchman a vineyard confiscated +from an old family, and that in gratitude the henchman had started to +distill a special brandy for the Tovarich. "And now, the excess alcohol +from too much of the stolen grape has taken its toll." + +"Well, what do you know!" Hall said. + +"It is the gospel truth," Fernandez said. "I have ways of confirming the +story." + +"Some mess, isn't it?" Hall said. + +"It is filled with dangers," Vardieno said. "Your calmness is admirable, +Senor Hall, but you had better watch out. The Reds are out to kill you." + +Hall accepted a cigar from Jose Fernandez, took his time about lighting +it before answering Vardieno. "Oh, I don't know," he said, casually. +"Perhaps you might know that earlier in this war, I was on board a +British warship which the Nazis sunk with aerial torpedoes. I not only +survived, but I came through without a scratch. Since then I just can't +get too excited about a threat." He looked at the three men to see if +his braggart's act succeeded. Fernandez was obviously the most impressed +of the three. + +"_Bueno! Muy caballero!_" Fernandez said. "But you had better be +careful. The Reds in San Hermano have none of the sporting codes of the +Nazi airman." + +"Well, now that you mention it," Hall said, "I did catch some bastard +following me the other day." + +In a small voice, Davila asked, "Did you get a good look at him?" + +"I most certainly did. He was a big, clumsy brute in the white linen +suit of a respectable business man and a panama hat. But I'll bet a good +box of Havana cigars that he was a longshoreman or a miner. I know the +type." + +Davila looked at Vardieno and Fernandez. A slow grin crept over the +lawyer's face, and then the other two Hermanitos were grinning too. "So +they started, eh?" he said. "Well, don't let that big one worry you too +much. Should he, Don Jose?" + +The publisher grunted. "No. Don't worry about that one." Hall could +sense that Fernandez was picking up his cue from the lawyer. + +"As a matter of fact," Davila said, "I'll wager that you can find the +picture of the man in the white suit in Don Jose's confidential file on +the Reds. He keeps it in his office in the _Imparcial_ building." + +"I would be honored if you visited me in my office," Jose Fernandez said +to Hall. + +"Perhaps I can make it this week," Hall said. + +"Sst," Davila warned. "Miss Prescott is coming back. Let's change the +subject." + +"Of course," Vardieno said. "There is no sense in involving her in +this." + +"This is quite a turnout," Hall was saying when Giselle Prescott and +Quinones rejoined the group. "I think that every nation is represented +by its Ambassador here." + +"Every nation but Spain," Quinones said. "El Tovarich took care of that +by insulting the Ambassador and the Chief of the Spanish State." + +"It's true," Vardieno said. "Spain is a good customer for our nation, +but El Tovarich is so angry at Generalissimo Franco for destroying +communism in the Motherland that he is deliberately trying to destroy +this trade in order to get even with Franco." + +"He not only insulted Spain," Quinones said. "In his speech to the +University, El Tovarich said that only the so-called fascists in San +Hermano supported Franco." + +"Sounds like our pinkos back home," Giselle Prescott said to Hall. + +Fernandez exploded. "I am a good Catholic," he snapped. "I am pious. +During the Civil War I supported Franco. I was proud to support him. I +not only supported Franco, but I was delighted to hail Hitler and +Mussolini as noble allies in the struggle against Jewish Bolshevism. But +am I a fascist? I defy any man to call me a fascist or a Falangist to my +face!" + +Davila turned to both Hall and Giselle Prescott. "Now don't jump to any +false conclusions about Don Jose," he smiled. "After all, you Americans +are not Reds because you welcome the godless Russian armies of Stalin as +your allies in this present war, are you?" + +"Bull's-eye!" Giselle Prescott laughed. "I'm delighted to hear you both +talk like this. Back home only the Reds and the pinkos were for the +so-called Spanish Loyalists during the war." She opened her tiny purse +and found a leather address book. "Gimme a pencil or a pen, will you, +Hall?" + +"Sure. What for?" + +"I want to put down what Senor Fernandez and Senor Davila just said +before I forget. I'm doing a piece for a mag and these quotes would just +fit in. May I quote you, gentlemen?" + +"I have nothing to conceal," Fernandez said proudly. + +Davila was very gracious. "Of course you may use these remarks. But +please don't use Don Jose's name in your article. It might be +misunderstood. You see, Don Jose has many enemies in the Jewish and +radical press in your country." + +"On my honor as a Girl Scout," she said, "I'll use the quotes but not +the names." + +"You've got quite a story there," Hall said. He was looking into the mob +on the dance floor for a sign of Jerry. Her red hair was not to be +found, but Margaret Skidmore, dancing with a bemedaled diplomat, caught +his eye and gestured that she would join him at the end of that dance. +She took him away from the group in a few minutes and led him toward the +American bar she had rigged up for the party. + +"They sure were talking at you for a while," she said. "I could see them +giving it to you with both barrels." + +"That they were. What is the lowdown, anyway? Are those boys completely +right about Tabio?" + +Margaret was amused. "Oh, they're a gang of hotheads, I warn you. But +nice. I suspect that our friend Giselle is going to find Don Jose +particularly nice." + +"Meow!" + +"I'm not a cat. I just know Giselle." + +"Let's talk about San Hermano politics. I think you know plenty in that +little head of yours." + +"Oh, I do. But tonight's a party. I've got to be Daddy's good little +Hostess." + +"Like it?" + +"Bores me silly," Margaret said. + +"Perhaps we can talk some other time?" + +"Tomorrow would be swell. I have to go to my place in Juarez early in +the morning. Why don't you come out for lunch? It's a two-hour ride by +train from San Hermano. I think you can make a train at eleven." + +"Tomorrow?" Hall hesitated. + +"I wish you'd make it," the girl said with a sudden intensity. + +"It's a date." + +"I'll meet you at the station." + +They joined her father and one of the Embassy secretaries at the bar. +Hall had a Cuba Libre, and was introduced to a South American painter. +He listened to the painter talk to the Ambassador about the beauties of +Arizona, watched J. Burton Skidmore gravely shake hands with the painter +and mutter, "_Con mucho gusto_." Then the painter asked Margaret to +dance and, when she left, Hall wandered off to look for Jerry. + +He found her at the punch bowl with Ansaldo. "May I ask Miss Olmstead +for this dance?" he asked the doctor. + +"Just this one dance," Jerry said, "I'll be right back." + +She put her cheek against his, softly hummed the tune the band was +playing. + +"It's nice to have you in my arms," he said. + +"It's nice to be in your arms." + +He held her closer. They danced well together. So well that when Jerry +said it would be better if they did not dance again that night, Hall +made up his mind to leave at once. "I can't hang around and watch you +dancing with Ansaldo all night," he said. + +"Why, Massa Hall," she said, "Ah swain Ah do believe you-all are +jealous!" + +"Did Duarte give you English lessons in one rumba, too?" + +"You're a goof," she laughed. + +He took her back to Ansaldo, paid his respects to the Ambassador, and +looked for Duarte. The Mexican was talking to the tall young wife of the +Vichy Ambassador. + +"Felipe," Hall tugged at Duarte's sleeve, "I am afraid that I must go +now." + +"I'll go with you, if you're alone. Madame, _enchante_ ..." He winked at +Hall as he kissed Madame la Comtesse's hand. "Now we must pay our +respects to our host." + +"I already have." + +"Come with me while I do. I never miss it. He has kept me from +squandering my money. I bet with myself on him, and I always lose. So +Felipe pays Duarte, and Duarte supports Felipe." + +"What the hell are you babbling about now?" + +"Your Ambassador. He is an original, Mateo. For three years he draws me +to his parties as a lodestone draws baser metals. In three years, he has +learned exactly three words of Spanish: _'Con mucho gusto_.' Of course +he still says them with a gringo accent, but anyone can recognize what +he means. + +"For three years I am waiting for him to learn a new word, any word. +_Si. No. Pan. Mantequilla._ Right now, I'd settle for just one new +word. + +"In the beginning, when I was green in the business of diplomacy, I was +younger and more optimistic. Then I would not have settled for a word. I +wanted a whole new phrase. Nothing complicated, you understand. Any +simple phrase would have satisfied me. _Tiene usted un fosforo?_ Or +even--_Donde esta la sala de caballeros?_ But no. Tennyson's brook +burbles forever, and unto eternity J. Burton Skidmore will not learn +more than his three words, and damn it, he won't even learn how to speak +them correctly." + +"And you're still betting on him?" Hall asked. + +"What can I do?" Duarte said. "We stupid Mexican peons have such a deep +faith in mankind that we are always betrayed." + +"Here comes the Ambassador now." + +"_Oiga!_" Duarte stopped Skidmore, took his hand, and let loose a stream +of Mexican obscenities, spoken in dulcet, smiling tones. When he paused +for breath, Skidmore smiled genially, bowed slightly from the hips, and +said, "_Con mucho gusto_." + +Hall nearly collapsed with laughter when he and Duarte reached the +street. "You bastard," he said, "you'll kill me before my time." + +"Let's have a drink before you die." + +"Sure. But let's run over to the Bolivar first. I want to see if there's +a message. Besides, we could stand some fresh air." + +Duarte agreed. "I saw Fernandez and Vardieno trying to gas you," he +said. "You could use some air." + +"You're not kidding, Felipe." + +"How do you like the Falange in San Hermano?" + +"You mean Fernandez and his friends?" + +"Of course. That Pepito Fernandez, there is an _hijo de la chingada_ for +you, Mateo. Once, when he was keeping a woman in Paris ..." and Duarte +was off on a long hilarious story about the publisher and his lady of +the hour. He was still telling the story when they reached the darkened +Plaza de la Republica and Hall suggested that they cut across the +cobbles rather than walk two-thirds of the way around the square. + +Hall stepped off the sidewalk and took three steps before he noticed the +large Rolls-Royce bearing down on them with her throttle wide open and +her lights off. "Jump!" he shouted, but Duarte, who saw it first, had +already yanked Hall back to the sidewalk. + +"Get behind this pillar, quick!" Duarte had a small pistol in his hand. +He stood watching the Rolls roar across the Plaza and disappear into the +alley leading to the Avenida de la Liberacion. + +"It's almost like old times," Hall said. + +"He tried to kill you, Mateo." + +"Better put your gun away. And we'll have that drink first, I think." + +"I'm going to phone for a car from the Mexican Embassy from the next +phone, _chico_. Those bastards weren't playing." + +"Put the gun away. It was a bluff." + +"You mean you expected it?" + +"Hell, no! I didn't think it would take so soon. But they had no +intention of killing me tonight." + +"The Arrows?" + +"I think so." + +Duarte put the gun in his pocket. "I don't understand. It seems a little +too subtle for the Falange. Are you working for your government now?" + +"No. They turned me down. They said I was pro-Loyalist during the war. +Right now that makes you a Red in Washington. I'm traveling on my own." + +"On your own?" + +"I'm well-heeled. My last book sold like hell. So now I'm young Don +Quixote." + +"And your Sancho Panza?" + +"I have none. Or rather, I have thousands of them. Exiles. Taxi drivers. +Union leaders. Communists. First Secretaries of Mexican Embassies." + +"What are you after?" + +"The Falange." + +"Good. I can help you, _chico_." + +"You'll have to. Wait, I'm going into the hotel for a minute. Come on +along. I'll only be a second." + +Duarte took a seat in the lobby while Hall talked to Souza. There was +still no letter from Havana, but Souza had some information about the +Renault Androtten had used. "It is a for-hire car owned by the Phoenix +Garage on Reyes Street." + +"Can you find out who hired it the other night?" + +"That will not be so easy, _Companero_ Hall. The mechanics in the +Phoenix are not union members. But we are trying to reach someone there. +Perhaps by tomorrow we will know." + +"There's something else you can find out. Perhaps from the Mechanics +Union. Find out how many Rolls-Royce roadsters there are in San Hermano. +I know it will be hard, but it's important." + +"I will try. Must you know soon?" + +"Very soon, Fernando. A Rolls-Royce roadster, it was painted black or +dark blue, I think, and just tried to run down Duarte and me in the +Plaza." + +Souza made some notes on a slip of paper. "Maybe we can find out +tonight," he said. + +"Good. I'll be back in an hour. Is Androtten in his room?" + +"No. He's been out all evening." + +Duarte knew a quiet little bar a few blocks from the Bolivar. "They call +it a lover's retreat," he said when they got there. "You can see why." +Most of the tables were surrounded with lattice walls, and those tables +which were occupied were monopolized by couples who looked into one +another's eyes and said little. + +"There's Ansaldo's _maricon_," Duarte laughed. "In the table at the +back. I know the boy who's with him, too. He's a blue blood from the +Vichy Embassy." + +Hall watched Marina and the French boy. They had pink drinks made with +gin and grenadine and raw eggs. The French boy was giggling. "The +bastards," Hall said. + +"Sit here and order a Cuba Libre for me," Duarte said. "I'm going to +phone for a car." + +Now that the action had begun, Hall felt better. The tension had been +broken. Hands were starting to be shown. Now the moves would come more +quickly, he thought, and they would be more definite in form. Diverse +facts would synthesize, and when the letter came from Havana, perhaps +the whole thing would start to form one pattern. + +"We can't talk here," Duarte said. "Let's have a drink and then, when my +car comes, we'll go to my house. I rented a place on the beach." + +"Sorry, boy. That's out tonight. Have to stick around the hotel." + +"But we should talk, Mateo." + +"I'll have breakfast with you at your house. Do you eat in?" + +"Sometimes. We'll eat in tomorrow morning." + +"Eight o'clock too early?" + +"No. I'll get you out of bed, Felipe. Well, here's to Mexico!" + + + + +_Chapter seven_ + + +It was not quite six when the phone next to Hall's bed rang and a tired +Souza said, "Your driver is on the way up to your room, Senor." + +Hall admitted Pepe a moment later. "What is it?" he asked. Unshaven, +heavy-eyed, the big Asturiano seemed thoroughly upset. + +"_Nada_," he said. "It is just time." He went to the window, locked the +shutters, and held his finger to his lips. With his other hand, he first +pointed to Ansaldo's room and then to his ear. + +"Oh," Hall said, raising his voice. "Thank you for waking me. Sit down +and have a smoke while I dress." He gave Pepe a pencil and a sheet of +paper. + +Pepe wrote: "The Englishman Fielding was killed three hours ago." + +"How?" Hall asked. + +The driver vigorously pointed to the street. "You will miss your train, +Senor," he said. + +"I'll hurry." Hall dressed quickly, shaved, and went downstairs with +Pepe. They got into the car and Pepe headed in the direction of the +railroad terminal. + +"Fielding was run down by an automobile near his house," Pepe said. + +"Was it a Rolls-Royce?" + +"I don't know. There was only one witness. An old woman. She said that +he was walking across the street and the automobile just hit him and +kept on going. She said it looked as if he walked into the car." + +"Who is the old woman?" + +"A farmer's wife. She was on her way to the market with a wagon of +meal." + +"Didn't she describe the car?" + +"I don't think so, Mateo. The Englishman died instantly. He had a gun in +his pocket when they found him. Didn't have a chance to use it against +his murderers." + +"Where are we going now?" + +"No place. I just pointed our noses toward the railroad for the benefit +of anyone watching us from the hotel." + +"Oh. I have an appointment at the beach at eight o'clock. Let's have +some coffee until we're ready to go." + +Pepe drove to a cafe near the Transport Union building. They found a +table in the back of the place. "Do you know any of the Englishman's +friends?" Hall asked. + +"Not many." + +"Did you know his friend Harrington?" + +The name left Pepe cold. He was certain that he had never met Harrington +or heard the name mentioned. Nor did he know anything about Fielding's +employees. "His secretary is a middle-aged Hermanita. She lives alone +with a parrot and minds her own business. I knew a man who was her lover +once, but that was fifteen years ago." + +"Do you know much about Felipe Duarte?" Hall asked. + +"Sure. But why?" + +"I'm to meet him at eight this morning." + +Pepe looked at the clock. "Then let's go," he said. "Sometimes Duarte is +like a crazy man, but he is a good friend." + +"Does he know you?" + +"We have met many times. Did you know him in Spain?" + +They went to the car, and Hall told Pepe about some of Duarte's +legendary feats in the war against the fascists. He was in the midst of +a story about the Ebro retreat when they reached Duarte's cottage. + +Duarte came to the door wearing a towel around his middle. "So you got +up?" he laughed. "And you got Pepe up, too! Come in and fill your guts." +He led them through the small living room, put on a pair of shorts and +mismated huaraches. + +"We'll all eat in the kitchen," he said. "I'll bet you forgot that I'm a +wonderful cook, Mateo." He served a twelve-egg omelet whose pungent +fires brought tears to Hall's eyes. + +"This is really going to kill me," Hall said. + +"The lousy gringo," Duarte said to Pepe. "He's got a gringo stomach." + +Pepe defended Hall loyally. After he had his coffee, he rubbed his +bristling beard and asked Duarte if he had a razor that could cut +through steel wire. Duarte took him to the bathroom. + +"Shave and bathe while I talk to Mateo," he said. + +When they were alone, Hall asked him if he knew Fielding. "Sure, I do. +He's the one English planter in South America who knows that the world +is round." + +"He's dead." Hall told Duarte all that he knew about Fielding's death, +and what little he knew about Fielding himself. Duarte listened in +stunned silence. + +"And you still think that attempt on you last night was a bluff?" he +asked when Hall was done. + +"I'm more convinced than ever that it was a bluff. But whoever drove +that car knew that an hour later Fielding was going to be killed by a +car. And I'll bet that it was not the same car that made a pass at us +last night." + +"Then you're hiding something from me, Mateo." + +"The hell I am. I'm going to tell you everything I know. Just give me a +chance. Do you know Juan Antonio Martinez?" + +"The young teacher?" + +Hall told Duarte about Juan Antonio's phone call to _Mundo Obrero_ and +how it reached the Cross and the Sword in a matter of minutes. +"Fernandez and his boy friends told me about the phone call at the +Embassy last night. They warned me that it meant the Reds were going to +prepare an attempt on my life. Now my cue is to run to them for help +because of the Rolls-Royce in the Plaza." + +"Will you go through with it?" + +"Tomorrow. But I don't like the idea. They don't act as if they knew +about my record in Spain. But it's crazy to think they're going to +remain in the dark." + +"What are you doing today?" + +"I'm catching the eleven o'clock train to Juarez. I have an idea I'll +come back with a pretty good line on the Cross and Sword camarilla." + +Duarte laughed. "I have an idea you'll come back from Juarez with +something else," he said. + +"Not today, Felipe. I'd like to, but not today." + +"She's a good piece." + +"Forget it. I'm after stronger meat today." + +"Like that nurse with the red hair?" + +"I'm serious, Felipe. And we haven't got much time. Listen, did you ever +hear of a guy named Harrington? Fielding said he was his associate, and +that he knew a lot about the Falange at the waterfront." + +The name meant nothing to Duarte. "But then, I didn't know Fielding too +well. I've only talked to him once; he wanted to find out if I had known +his son." + +"Well, you've got to find Harrington, if he exists," Hall said. "And one +other thing: Fielding had dinner with the new British Naval Intelligence +officer for this port the night before last." + +"Commander New?" + +"That's the guy. You've got to see New this morning. Better send a +messenger to the British Embassy with a sealed note. Don't use the +phone." + +"What do I say in the note?" + +"Anything. The idea is that you've got to stop the British Embassy from +raising a stink about Fielding for at least a week. Let the Falange +think the British Embassy accepts the police verdict on Fielding's +death. In the paper this morning the police described it as an +unfortunate accident." + +"Some accident!" + +"Act as if you know plenty when you see New. You'd better have him visit +you, Felipe. Tell him that in a week you'll have the true facts." + +"Will I?" + +"I don't know. Well, tell him you think you'll have the full facts. And +find out all you can about Harrington, if New knows anything. See if you +can arrange for me to meet Harrington." + +"I understand." Duarte looked at his watch and shouted to Pepe to get +out of the bathroom. "We've got to get started," he said to Hall. "If +I'm to stop Commander New, I'd better not lose any more time." + +"Good. Where will you be tonight at about nine? That's when the return +train gets in." + +"Call me right here. What name will you use? Pedro?" + +"Pedro is O.K." + +"If we have to meet tonight, I'll tell Pepe where we can do it. I'd +better tell him now. Have some more coffee while I dress, _chico_. And +don't worry." Duarte went upstairs. + +Hall endorsed a hundred-dollar money order and ran after Duarte. "One +other favor, Felipe. Ride to town with Pepe and me, and after I get out +at the railroad station, please force that Asturian mule to accept this +check. He's refused to take a cent from me since I'm in town--and I +found out how much gasoline is selling for in San Hermano." + + * * * * * + +The train to Juarez was on the line to the north which had been built in +Segura's time. The graft which had gone in to the building of the road +was now scattered over the far corners of the earth. Somewhere in Paris, +one of the chief contractors still lived on his share of the booty, +paying varying fees to the Nazis for butter and woolens. In New York, +one of Segura's army of illegitimate sons was studying medicine on the +proceeds of some shares in the line which had belonged to his mother. +Estates whose rolling lands touched the rails on either side belonged to +old Seguristas who had bought the lands with the money they had managed +to steal from the project. The money was gone, but the steel cars the +builders had bought in Indiana and Pennsylvania remained. It was still a +good railroad, and even though it now belonged to the government, the +trains not only ran on time but were much cleaner and charged lower +fares than before. + +Hall watched the green countryside until the rolling landscape and the +rhythm of the wheels made him drowsy. He turned away from the window, +opened his newspaper to stay awake. The news was vague. The bulletin +from the Presidencia stated simply that Ansaldo had spent four hours +with Tabio but had issued no verdict. Those were exactly the words, "no +verdict," and reading them again Hall grew angry. He tried to figure out +some foolproof way of cabling to Havana, but the censorship hazards were +too great. + +The inside pages had little of interest. Bits of international and +Washington news. A feature story from Mexico City on the great religious +revival that was sweeping Mexico and threatening the Marxist forces in +the government. This was in _El Imparcial_, and Hall recognized the +byline of the author, a prominent lieutenant of the Mexican fascist +leader, Gomez Morin. There was a full page of local society items, dry +stuff about weddings, dinners, parties, the goings and comings of the +smart set. And the inevitable puff story, this one about the "great and +noted lawyer" Benito Sanchez, about whom no one had ever heard a thing +and who would sink back into obscurity until he paid for another +personality feature at so much per column, cash on the barrel. Hall +forced himself through this flowery account of the lawyer's ancestry, +wit, humanitarianism, piety, fertility, education, patriotism, skill in +court, and kindness to his mother. Try as he could, the hack who wrote +this story had not been able to completely fill three columns, the +accepted length for such compositions. The bottom of the third column +had therefore been filled with a stock item in small type: "Ships +Arriving and Leaving Today and Tomorrow." + +Mechanically, Hall read the shipping notes. The _Drottning-holm_ was in +port. The _Estrella de Santiago_ was returning to Havana. Tomorrow, the +_Marques de Avillar_ was due from Barcelona. Tomorrow the _Ouro Preto_ +was sailing back to Lisbon. The _City of Seattle_ was now six days +overdue; U. S. Lines, Inc., had no explanation. Mails for the _Ouro +Preto_ closed at midnight. + +Hall turned the page and stopped. The rustle of the paper struck a +hidden chord in his mind. He turned back to the shipping news, read it +carefully. The _Marques de Avillar_ became as great as the _Normandie_ +and the _Queen Mary_ rolled into one. He recalled the conversation he +had overheard between Ansaldo and Marina. _Find out if they came +today.... Too dangerous to come by Clipper._ But by Spanish boat? + +He went back to the conversation. Yes, that was exactly the way they +talked. And after the talking came the rustling of a paper. Not +evidence, of course, and even in wartime you couldn't shoot two bastards +like them unless you knew more. But was it worth following up? Perhaps +Margaret Skidmore would be able to supply another piece of the jigsaw. +She had a sharp tongue, and this meant a sharp head. Sharp and tough, +and Felipe was probably right about her other value, but if it happened +at all it would have to happen when this mess was cleared up. + +The train pulled into Juarez on time. Hall got off and gaped at the +station. It was covered from ground to roof with the blazing "tiger +vines" whose orange orchid-shaped flowers were the unofficial flag of +the country. Margaret was waiting for Hall under the station shed. "Hi," +she shouted, "have a nice trip?" + +"Swell. Let me look at you under the sunlight." In a tennis eye shade, +green sports dress, and rope-soled _zapatos_ she seemed to be more of a +woman than she was in evening clothes. + +"Well?" + +"You'll do," he laughed. "It's just that evening clothes rarely reveal +more than the size of a woman's shopping budget." + +Margaret laughed easily. "You mean that you can't tell whether a girl in +an evening gown has knock knees or a wooden leg. I have neither. There's +my car. That little jalopy." + +"How far is your place from the station?" Hall asked. + +"It starts right here." Margaret pointed to a green field to the left of +the road. "I have four thousand acres between the tracks and the main +house, and then there's a lot of scrub forest behind the house that +belongs to me." + +"All yours?" + +The car was raising great clouds of dust on the dry dirt road. "Uh huh. +The money came from Mother's side of the family. Since she died, I more +or less keep the old man in embassies. She left him only cigarette +money." She was very cold and matter of fact about it. + +"I see," he said. + +"Don't be so shocked. I always talk the way I feel. The old man's a +stuffed shirt and you know it. If he hadn't married money the best he'd +get out of life would be a career as a floor-walker in Macy's. No, he's +too aristocratic for Macy's. In Wanamaker's Philadelphia store. Do me a +favor. There's a big heavy ledger in the side door pocket. Take it out +and put it on my lap. No, with the binding facing the radiator. Thanks." + +"What's it for?" + +She opened the front ventilator in the cowl. The gush of wind which +poured in lifted her skirt to the edge of the book. "See?" she said. +"Keeps my skirt from blowing over my head when I open the vent." + +Hall glanced at her bare legs. "Some day you'll catch cold," he smiled. +"What have you got planted on your land? Looks to me like soy." + +"It is soy. Three thousand acres." + +"That makes you a farmer." + +"The hell it does. That makes me an Ambassador's daughter. The +Rockefeller committee planted it, with local help, of course. It's part +of a demonstration project. The idea is to teach them how to grow new +crops so that after the war Detroit can keep the home price on soy down +by importing just enough soy to keep it growing in South America. All I +did was donate my land." + +"What happens to the proceeds when you sell the crop?" + +"Oh, I suppose the old man will make a big show of donating the proceeds +to the Red Cross in San Hermano." + +"That the house?" + +"That's my hideaway. The old man can't come out here. He's violently +allergic to soy beans." + +She started to talk about the soy-bean project and the by-products of +its crop. The words flowed without effort. She knew the facts, the +theories, the statistics, the chemistry of the soy-bean industry as well +as she knew the road to her house. She discussed them as she might +yesterday's weather, or a neighbor's dog. I don't give a damn about soy +beans, she seemed to be saying, I just know about them because I was +roped in to lend my land and I'll be damned if I'll give my land without +knowing why. + +"Well, that's enough talk about soy, I guess," she said when she turned +off the road to the lane leading to her house. + +"I don't imagine there's anything else to know about it," Hall said. + +"Here we are, Matt." + +"Say, it is a nice house." + +"Hollow tile and stucco. I found the plans in an old issue of _House and +Garden_." + +"I'll be damned. It looks as Spanish as the Cathedral." + +"Oh, it should," Margaret said. "It's supposed to be an authentic New +Mexican ranch house. Let's go in and get a drink." + +Like the railroad station, the house was also covered with tiger vines. +It was built around a flagstone patio. Leaded glass doors opened from +the patio to the two-story-high beamed living room, the kitchen, and the +back corridor. This corridor opened on both the living room and the +stairs to the upstairs quarters. Inside, the living room was furnished +like a quality dude ranch--hickory and raw-hide furniture, Mexican +_serapes_ and dress sombreros hanging on the walls and over the large +stone fireplace, a Western plank bar with a battered spittoon at the +rail and a lithograph of the Anheuser-Busch Indians scalping General +Custer. The saloon art classic, of course, hung in a yellow oak frame +behind the bar. + +"Holy God," Hall said, "when I was a kid this litho used to give me +nightmares. It used to hang in the dirty window of Holbein's saloon on +West Third Street in Cleveland--that's my home town--and every time I +passed it I used to see more gore pouring down old Custer's throat." + +Margaret took off her eye shade and went behind the bar. "A drink should +drive away that terrible memory," she said. "Scotch?" + +"Black rum, if you have it." + +"Coming right up. That's a pirate's drink, though. Although when you +come right down to it, you do look like a freebooter." + +Hall had his foot on the bar. "Better smile when you say that, Pard," he +said. + +She smiled out of the side of her mouth and laughed. "Here's to Captain +Kidd," she said, raising her Scotch. + +"This is good rum." + +"Wait. I can improve it." She reached below the bar for a small wooden +platter and a lemon. Deftly, she carved off a slice of thick skin, +twisted it above an empty glass, dropped the peel into the glass and +covered it with rum. "Try it this way." + +"It is good. So you're a bartender, too!" + +Margaret refilled her own glass and sat down on the edge of a wheeled +settee. "Right now I'm farmer, bartender, chambermaid and cook. If you +must know, outside of the dogs in the yard and the horses in the shed, +we're the only living things within five miles. All my help is in the +next town celebrating some saint's day or something." + +"You'll manage to survive," Hall smiled. + +"I'm a pretty self-sufficient lady," she said. "Or hadn't you noticed?" + +"I'm not blind." + +"Hungry?" + +"I could eat. What's cooking?" + +"Sandwiches. Cold beef sandwiches and coffee. And if you're nice you can +have some _montecado a la_ Skidmore." + +"Real ice cream?" + +"No. But a reasonable facsimile. Let's go to the kitchen. You can help +me carry the tray and stuff." + +They ate at the monastery table in the living room. Margaret told Hall +the story of how she had supervised the building of the house and then +ordered her furniture from a dozen different stores between Houston and +San Hermano. She spoke of plumbing and artesian wells and wiring systems +with the same detailed knowledge she had displayed of soy-bean culture. + +"Do you know San Hermano politics as well as you know soy beans and +housing?" he asked. + +"Better," she smiled. "I'm closer to it. But we've got plenty of time to +talk about San Hermano. I thought we'd saddle up two horses and go for a +ride in the backwoods. Do you ride?" + +"After a fashion. I spent a summer vacation as a ranch hand in Wyoming +once." + +Margaret concentrated on Hall's feet for a minute. "Oh, I can fix you up +with boots and breeches. You sit here and I'll go on up, change, and +find you riding things. Just turn on a radio and relax or fix yourself a +drink while I'm changing." + +She went upstairs to her room. Hall lit his pipe, turned on the radio. +He found a program of Mexican marimba music. + +"That's swell," Margaret shouted through the open transom of her door. + +He could hear the water splashing into the bath upstairs. He lay back +and closed his eyes, the radio keeping him awake. In San Hermano, the +announcer looked at the studio clock, gave the station's call letters, +and read another "no change" bulletin on the health of the President. + +"Matt ..." + +"Ready so soon?" + +"Come on up to my room. It's the third door to the left of the stairs." + +"Sure." + +"Would you shut off the radio, too?" + +He flipped the radio switch and climbed the stairs to the upper landing. +Margaret's door was slightly ajar. "That you, Matt?" + +"The old pirate himself." He pushed the door open. + +Margaret was standing near her bed, freshly bathed and completely naked. +"I changed my mind," she said, thickly. + +"Margaret ..." + +"No. Don't talk." She had her arms around him, her mouth against his +lips. The pine salts of her bath and the sharp perfume in her hair and +behind her ears choked in Hall's throat. + +"You're biting my lips," she said. + +He picked her up and carried her to the bed while she undid the buttons +of his shirt with closed eyes and steady fingers. "I knew you were a +pirate," she smiled. + +Hall kicked his shoes off, drew the blinds. + +"Are you surprised?" she asked. + +He locked the door and joined Margaret. "Don't talk," he said. "You kiss +too well to talk in bed." + +There was the pine scent and the perfume and the savage odor of whisky +on hot breath and then there was the faint saline taste of blood on his +tongue and the rigid breasts of the girl pressed against his bare skin +and she was trying to gasp an insane gibberish of love words and sex +words and sounds that were not words at all. He shut off the gibberish +with his hard mouth and then he started to lose himself in the devils +that were coursing through his blood and the sharp pain of her nails +digging fitfully into the back of his shoulders and the taut smoothness +of her writhing thighs. For a searing moment the emptiness and the +agonies of the past four years rose to the surface like a two-edged +razor in his brain, rose slashing wildly to torture and torment, and +then, as suddenly, they were lost in the devils and the blood and the +white, pine-scented thighs of the girl and Hall stopped thinking and +gave himself completely to the one, to the only one, to the only thing +that could answer the devils and the pain and the moment. + +Then she lay at his side, limp, whispering, "God, oh my God, oh my God," +and smiling at him with tear-filled eyes. + +"Hello." + +"Was I good? Was I, Matt?" + +And he realized how adept she actually was at it. Sex was a soy bean, +something you used, developed, exploited. "You're very good at this sort +of thing," he said, "and you know it." + +"I'm not always good," she said. "This is one thing that takes two for +perfection. Like now." She reached into the drawer of the night table. +"Cigarette?" + +"No." + +"Light mine for me, darling. I'm half dead." + +She smoked her cigarette in happy, satisfied silence, moving closer to +Hall and putting her free arm under his neck. Then, with an abrupt +movement, she ground the butt into the ash tray and kissed the scar on +Hall's chin. "Who cut you up?" she asked. "Some Frenchwoman's husband?" +But before he could answer she was lying on his chest with her open +mouth pressing heavily against his lips. + +This time he could ignore the devils until the hot furies that +drove the girl finally moved him to respond. But what had earlier +been an experience which reached in and shook the guts was now a +performance--overture, theme, variations, theme and soaring climax and +maybe it was what she wanted and maybe it wasn't but baby that's the +best you get this trip. When it was done she seemed happy enough. She +smoked another cigarette and then she fell into a light sleep, her head +nuzzling under his arm pit like a puppy's. + +Hall lay watching the sun rays as they stretched between the shuttered +windows and the smoothness of Margaret's glistening back. + +"What are you thinking about?" she asked when she awoke. + +"Really want to know?" + +"Uh huh." + +"About a girl from Ohio." + +"Your wife?" + +"No. Just a girl I know. I've been wondering if she has freckles on her +back." + +"Well, anyway, you're frank." + +"When are you going back to San Hermano?" + +"Tonight. I'll drive you back. I think we should get ready. The help +might start straggling back in an hour or so." She kissed him tenderly, +then savagely. "No, but this is silly," she said. "We'll get caught." +She rolled away and got out of bed. + +Later in the living room, Margaret made two rum drinks. She had changed +her tennis dress for a dark suit, and her fingers now carried three +elaborate rings. "Now I'm dressed for town again," she laughed. "Without +my rings I'd feel naked." One of them was a wedding ring; Hall asked no +questions about it. + +"Are you still interested in San Hermano politics?" Margaret asked. + +"Sort of." + +"What do you want to know?" + +"Everything. Fernandez and his friends had one set of ideas. I guess you +know what they are. The Tabio crowd speaks differently. What's the +lowdown?" + +Margaret went to the wide window of the room. "Look," she said, "see all +that land between the fence and the top of that hill? I've got some of +it in soy and the rest is just lying fallow. What do you think it's +worth?" + +"I couldn't say." + +"Neither can anyone else. That all depends on the politics down here." + +"That's true back home too, isn't it?" + +"In a way, yes." She poured another drink for herself and sat down on +the settee. "I'll let you in on a secret, Matt. I'll tell you how I came +to buy this place. Sit down. It's a long story. And it leads right into +the thing you're interested in." + +"When did you get it?" + +"Two years ago. A young mining engineer in San Hermano met me at a party +given at the University. He wanted me to put him in touch with an +American financing outfit. On a field trip he had undertaken as a +student, the young engineer inadvertently stumbled across a treasure in +manganese. The deposits lay in an area he alone could reveal, and for a +consideration and a share in the profits, he was willing to lead the +right parties to the site of his discovery. + +"I became the right party," Margaret said. "The soy is growing over a +fortune in manganese." + +"What happened to the young engineer?" + +"He's in the States. I got him a scholarship in a good mining school. +When he gets out, he'll be able to run the works down here." + +"You don't miss a trick, do you?" + +"Darling," she laughed, "my grandfather didn't come up from a plow on +his muscles alone. But why don't you ask me why I'm not mining my +manganese now?" + +"I suppose that's where the politics comes in," he said. + +"Now you're catching on. You see, Matt, anyone who didn't know the score +down here might start mining like mad. There's a war on, the Germans +have grabbed most of Russia's manganese fields, and Russia had a +practical corner on the world's manganese supply. It's almost worth its +weight in platinum today." + +"Then why in the hell don't you cash in?" + +"Because I intend to live for a long time after the war, darling. And +I'd like something for my old age. Not inflation-swelled war dollars, +but real hard money. That's where the politics comes in, Matt. It costs +like hell to start a mine. I'd have to dip into my reserves to get it +started, or get partners and let them pay for the works. But they +wouldn't do it for nothing. They'd wind up with an unhealthy share of +the profits. This is my baby, and under certain circumstances I can run +it by myself and make money at it. But those circumstances are +determined by the politics here." + +"By that," Hall said, "I take it you mean Tabio's politics?" + +Margaret was not smiling now. Her eyes had narrowed down to sharp slits, +and although she talked as fluently about the mine and Tabio as she had +earlier discussed soy beans, her voice had taken on a sharp, metallic +edge. "I most certainly do," she said. + +"Then you agree with Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd?" + +"Now don't tell me," she said, wearily, "that they are all a bunch of +dirty fascists." + +"I'm not telling you a thing. I'm here to get the lowdown, not to hang +labels on everyone in San Hermano." + +"Thank God for that," she said. "I can give you the lowdown, if you +really want it." + +"That's what I'm here for." + +"I'm so sick of these smart-aleck pundits who are so quick to hang the +fascist label on everything they don't like," Margaret said. "I'm not +afraid of labels. I'm only interested in the facts. I'm interested in my +manganese operation. I'm interested in protecting what I have. And I'll +fight against anyone who tries to steal what's rightfully mine." + +"You've been threatened?" + +"Not directly. That's the hell of it. If not for me, or someone else +with as much money to risk as I'm risking, this manganese would be +useless to everyone. But I'm not going to sink a fortune into the mine +only to have the cream taken away from me." + +"By Tabio?" + +A slight smile touched Margaret's lips. "Not exactly," she said. "I'm a +little more rational than Fernandez and his friends. It's not Tabio I'm +afraid of, darling. It's the thing he's started. You don't open a few +thousand schools all over a backward country and then expect the people +to remain the same. It's not only the kids who go to these schools; +grown-ups pack the same school houses every night. People don't want +things they don't know about. But when they go to school they start +learning about a million things they'd like to have--and none of these +are free. They begin to want modern houses and radios and refrigerators +and pianos--you have no idea what they begin to want, Matt! + +"The schools are only the beginning. Once the miners learn how to read +and write, the unions come along and flood them with printed propaganda +about higher wages. They tell the miners that higher wages mean higher +standards of living." + +"Don't they?" Hall asked. + +"Not for the mine owners, dear," she said. "Higher wages mean lower +profits. And when you run a mine, the idea is to keep the profits up. +That's where the politics come in, Matt. You don't pass laws--as the +Popular Front has--forcing employers to bargain with the unions without +making the unions so powerful that they can and do elect whole blocs of +union deputies and senators. And then these blocs push through laws on +hospitalization and social security and death benefits that cut into a +mine owner's profits nearly as much as the wage increases. + +"In other words, Matt, it all boils down to dollars and cents. Tabio and +his ideas are great vote-catchers--but the costs are enormous. And these +costs don't come out of the pockets of the people who vote for the +Popular Front candidates." + +Hall watched her in fascination as she spoke. This was no mystic Pilar +Primo de Rivera, he thought, no hyper-thyroid hysteric falling on her +knees in the cathedral and then rushing out with blood in her eyes and +emptying a Mauser full of bullets into the warm bodies of housewives +shopping in the Madrid slums. Margaret's voice had not risen by one +note. Her hands were calm, she was still relaxed in the settee. If not +for the hard sharpness of her voice now, she might still be discussing +soy-bean culture or anything else as remote from her true interests. + +"Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd might be hysterical," Margaret +said, "but they are on the right track. The government has to change +quickly, or it will be too late for all of us. The Cross and Sword crowd +aren't really natives, you know. They're Spaniards. They got the scare +of their lives when Tabio's Spanish counterparts took over in Spain." + +"But why? They live here. Spain is an ocean away." + +"Money has a way of crossing oceans," Margaret said. "They all had +plenty invested in Spain. If Franco hadn't come along, Vardieno and +Davila and Quinones and a lot of other men you haven't met would have +been wiped out." + +"Isn't Franco a fascist?" + +"Labels don't mean a thing. I think democracy is the phoniest label in +the world, Matt. When it means a stable government, like we used to have +back home before the New Deal, I'm for it. But when it means the first +step on the road to collectivism, I'll take any Franco who comes along +to put an end to it. That goes for the Cross and Sword crowd, too. Or am +I all wrong?" + +Hall laughed, softly. "That's a rhetorical question," he said. "Let's +skip the rhetoric. Then things are really bad down here, aren't they?" + +"They couldn't be much worse. I know it sounds harsh, but I think the +best thing Tabio could do for his country would be to die. With Gamburdo +in the Presidencia, you'd see a return to something resembling sanity +down here. He has a very sound approach." + +"But wouldn't he be too late? What could he do about the school system, +for instance?" + +"The Cross and Sword crowd want the schools closed down at once. They +want education returned to the Church. But Gamburdo is a good +politician," Margaret said. "He'd keep the schools open, but he'll clean +out the Ministry of Education from the very top down to the personnel of +the village schools. He'll simply turn it over to the Jesuits. They +won't have to open their own parochial schools; they'll control +Tabio's." + +"Have they enough teachers?" + +"Gamburdo told me that if they need teachers they'll import them from +Spain." + +"How about the labor laws?" + +"A law is no better than its enforcement. That's what I learned in law +school and it still goes. Can you imagine what would happen to the +Wagner Act if Hoover were back in the White House?" + +"You don't need too much of an imagination to figure that one out," Hall +said. + +"Of course," Margaret said, "Gamburdo will need more finesse than a +Hoover." There was the little matter of the arms everyone knew were in +the hands of the miners in the north. There was also the still painful +memory of the one-day general strike called by the transport workers and +the longshoremen when the Supreme Court delayed its decision on the +validity of the Tabio labor codes. Gamburdo, she explained, would have +to plan his acts like a military strategist. "Because unless he does, he +will need a military strategist to pull him out of the hole." + +"You don't mean a civil war?" + +That was exactly what Margaret did mean. But Gamburdo had a plan for +averting such a war, or, if it had to come, to guarantee the victory for +the forces of sound government when the issue was drawn. He would begin +gradually by restoring to their army commissions the old officers +trained in Segura's military college. This he would do before attempting +to circumvent the labor laws. "Then, when the war ends in Europe, a lot +of good professional military leaders will be out of jobs," she said. +"Gamburdo plans to give them jobs." + +"How about the troops? Will they be loyal to the new order?" + +Gamburdo had provided for this, too. The army would have the best of +everything; it would be made more attractive than life as a miner or a +soy-bean cultivator. "But a boy will have to have the O.K. of his priest +before he will be taken in. And what a priest learns at confession is +nothing to be ignored. The Church will keep the unreliable elements out +of the army." Once he had an army, Gamburdo would then be ready to +restore sound government in the nation. + +"He's a clever guy," Hall said. "I had a hunch he was the coming strong +man on the continent when I applied for an interview." + +Margaret thought that this was very funny. "Don't be a child," she +laughed. "He won't admit to anything like this for publication." + +"That doesn't matter. What counts in my business is that I'll be on +record as the first American to interview him, and that I'll get the +credit for discovering him before his name is a household word." + +"Right now all he'll talk is platitudes. But you might get him to talk +off the record. He's gotten around to telling me things. And stop +looking at your watch. I'll lock up and we can start back to town at +once. You'll be back in plenty of time to sleep with her tonight." + +"With whom?" + +"Whoever you have that date with. I know I should be nasty about it. But +I never demanded fidelity and I always hated men who demanded it of me. +That's the way we both are, darling, and as long as it goes off as good +as it did upstairs today we can expect to do it often." She left the +settee, walked over to Hall's chair, and kissed his ear. He slapped her +trim buttocks, shouted, "Cut it out!" + +"Let's get going," she said. "Time's a-wasting." + +Hall thought, as Margaret drove him back to San Hermano, that Pepe +Delgado would have approved of her skill as a driver just as much as he +would disapprove of her politics. The ledger on her lap, she pushed the +roadster through hairpin curves and back-country roads with a confidence +as cold as her reasoning about her manganese properties. + +"I'll walk to my hotel from the Embassy," he said, when they reached the +suburbs of San Hermano. "I could stand a little walk." + +"So you're meeting her in the lobby," Margaret laughed. She kissed him +fondly when she stopped the car near the Embassy. "Darling," she said, +"don't ask me to the Bolivar. But I have to go back to the farm in a few +days. I'll let you know ahead of time, and we can have a night +together." + +"Call me," Hall said. "Or I'll be calling you." + +An hour later he met Duarte in the home of one of the secretaries of the +Cuban Embassy. The Mexican had borrowed the home for the evening. "We +have at least two hours to talk here," Duarte told Hall. "My friend is +at the cinema." + +Duarte opened two bottles of cold beer, set one before Hall. He took a +long look at Hall and burst into laughter. "Did she give you any +information, Mateo?" + +"You bastard," Hall said. + +Felipe Duarte doubled over with laughter. "Mateo the Detective!" he +chortled. + +"O.K.," Hall laughed. "So I was raped." + +"Raped is the right word, _chico_." + +"When did she take you into her bed, Felipe?" + +"Long ago. My first week in San Hermano. Then once more after that. I +gave way for an American aviator who came here to sell planes to the +government. He was succeeded in a week by two men, a local _senorito_ +named Madariaga and the First Secretary of the French Embassy. After +that I just stopped noticing." + +"Who is her husband?" + +"She has no husband." + +"She was wearing a wedding ring, Felipe." + +"That's a new development. I never heard of her having a ring or a +husband." + +"She's a very clever girl, Felipe. And a confirmed fascist." + +"She's only a rich _puta_, Mateo. The hell with her." + +"She might be useful, Felipe. What happened to you today? Did you learn +anything?" + +Duarte shrugged his shoulders. He had little real information. "I saw +Commander New. He looked down his nose at me during our whole interview, +and then, like an English trader, he started to bargain with me. About +the week, I mean. He said that a week was too long. He would only give +me three days. Then--if I gave him no more information than you got from +the _puta_ today, he goes to the police." + +"That's not so good." + +"Who knows? The counsellor of the British Embassy spent the whole day +going through Fielding's files with the widow. If they found those +reports you saw that night, maybe the Intelligence officer will give us +that full week." + +"Did you find out anything about Harrington?" + +"Commander New never heard of him, he says. Then I thought I would make +a real surprise for you. Souza arranged with some smart boys to search +Ansaldo's room with a fine comb. But they combed not a louse, Mateo. +They found nothing of interest except that Ansaldo's _maricon_ is a +morphine addict." + +Hall lit a black cigar from the Cuban's private collection. "Where the +hell is my letter from Havana?" he said. + +"Take it easy, _chico_." Duarte opened a fresh bottle of beer for his +friend. + +"I'll be all right," Hall said. "I won't explode tonight." + +Duarte recalled an earlier occasion in a Madrid hospital, when a phone +call from the Paris office of the AP had made Hall lose his head. "To my +dying day," he told Hall, "I'll never forget those curses that shot out +of your guts." + +"Don't remind me," Hall said. "I get sick when I think of it again. That +was the time they held up my story on Guadalajara because they weren't +satisfied that I had definite proof that the troops captured by the +Republic were Italian regulars." + +The Mexican laughed. It was a laugh made bitter by the silver plate in +his skull. It covered an injury he had suffered in fighting the Italian +regulars at Guadalajara. + +Hall understood. "There are too many bastards in this world," he said. +"I wish curses alone could stop them. But we've got work to do. Pepe +didn't bring me here. He was busy on something else. I'll have to use +your driver. Have him drive me to some decent restaurant. I wish you'd +come along too." + +"Why didn't you tell me you're hungry?" + +"I forgot. But there's one thing your driver can do for us. Do you know +where the Compania Transatlantica Espanola pier is located? Good. Just +have him drive very slowly past the pier on the way. I want to look it +over." + + + + +_Chapter eight_ + + +Shortly after eight in the morning, Hall sat down at a table in a +waterfront cafe and ordered coffee and rolls. It was a small place with +a zinc bar in one corner, patronized largely by longshoremen and petty +customs officials. Hall chose a table which gave him a good view of the +Compania Transatlantica Espanola dock diagonally across the street. + +On the dock there were the unmistakeable signs that the _Marques de +Avillar_ was coming in on time. Minor customs officials in their blue +uniforms stood around in small, important looking knots, their hands +filled with papers and bundles of official forms. The passenger +gangplank, with the line's name splashed on its canvas sides in crimson +and gold letters, had been hauled on to the pier and lay waiting like a +rigid, outstretched hand for the incoming ship. A row of motley cabs +were lined up facing the pier, their drivers dozing or reading the +morning papers behind their wheels as they waited for the business from +the ship. Pepe was not only one of these drivers, but through the +transport union he had arranged to fill the cab line with trustworthy +anti-fascist drivers. + +Hall could see Pepe slouched behind the wheel of the LaSalle, his white +cap pushed way to the back of his massive head. The cab strategy was +Pepe's inspiration. It did away with the necessity of following any of +the cabs which picked up passengers whose moves might be of interest to +Hall. As a further precaution, Souza had arranged through members of his +union to get an instant line on any of the _Marques de Avillar_ +passengers who registered at a San Hermano hotel that day. + +A letter written in Spanish with purple ink in a fine, delicate woman's +hand lay on the metal table between the butter pat and the carafe of +water. Hall read it again as he stirred his coffee. + +"Beloved Mateo," the letter began, and Hall chuckled at Santiago's +current dodge, "Why did you leave me so suddenly without even giving me +a chance to explain? It is you and you alone whom I love, _carino_, and +any thoughts that you have to the contrary you must banish from your +dear head at this instant. Oh, _carino_, since you left without a +further word I have had no rest, no peace, no sleep...." He skimmed +through the first two pages of such protestations, then carefully reread +the casual lines: "You are so wrong; it is true that I did know the +doctor before, but he was never my lover. I knew him only because he +treated dear Carlos, but as a man I hate and detest him. How can I tell +you again that you are wrong, that he is an abomination not only in my +eyes but also in the eyes of my entire beloved family?" + +Nearly three lachrymose pages of love frustrated followed these lines. +"And so before I close my letter, I must beg you to drop everything if +you love me and fly back to Havana, even if only for a day. Oh, my +beloved, if you would only come back to Havana for one day, I am sure +that I can resolve all the doubts that are in your mind, Mateo. In the +name of all that we have shared, of all that is dear and sacred to us, +please fly back to my arms, my love, my kisses--and then you will know!" +The letter was signed, "Maria." + +Hall folded the letter carefully and put it in his wallet. It told him +what he wanted to know about Ansaldo. _He treated dear Carlos--he is an +abomination in the eyes of my beloved family._ Santiago's style as a +writer of love letters might be a little on the turgid side, but he knew +how to make himself clear. And nothing could be clearer than his line on +Ansaldo. An abomination. A man who marched with the men who put that +fascist bullet through the throat of Uncle Carlos. A bastard. + +The dock was growing more crowded. Over the near horizon, a ship pointed +its high white face at San Hermano. A long throaty whistle came from its +front funnel. Then five short blasts, and in a moment the tugs which had +been getting up steam in the harbor were heading out toward the growing +ship. + +"The _Marques de Avillar_," someone at the bar said. A customs man at a +near-by table gulped the remainder of his coffee and bolted to the pier. +At the bar, a laughing longshoreman pushed a five-centavo coin into the +nickeled red juke box, pressed the "_Besame_" button. Johnny Rodrigues +_y su_ Whoopee Kids. Two guitars, a cornet, maracas, sticks and a +lugubrious baritone. "_Besame, besame mucho_ ..." the raucous blaring of +a klaxon at the pier ... "_la ultima vez_" ... again the horn drowned +out the words. + +Hall looked up at the cabs, ignoring the Whoopee Kids' baritone. A +slender young man in a green jacket and cream-colored slacks was +standing near the foot of the gangplank. Pepe had taken off his white +hat. Hall kept his eyes glued on Pepe until the man in the green jacket +turned around, revealing himself as Dr. Marina. + +One of the white sedans of the Ministry of Health pulled up at the pier. +A doctor and two assistants, the three men wearing the light tan uniform +of their service, got out and started to talk to a customs man. He +pointed at the white ship being shoved toward the pier by the little +tugs. + +Hall drank in the tableau, his eyes following Marina's every move, his +ears deaf to the next record being played in the juke box. + +"_Otro cafe, senor?_" + +"_Si, gracias._" + +But the fresh pot of hot coffee remained untouched. Hall was still +watching Marina, but Marina did nothing except shift from foot to foot +while he watched the Spanish liner draw nearer the pier with every turn +of the heroic little engines in the two tugs. Hall thought of Jerry. He +had missed her again last night, but they had a date for dinner at +seven. Doctor had promised her a night off. The messages at the hotel: +Jose Fernandez had phoned, wanted Hall to call him back this morning. +O.K., Don Jose, as soon as I get a good look at the rats Marina is +awaiting. I want to hear more about the Red menace hanging over my head. +And Souza had an interesting tab on Androtten. The little Dutchman had +stayed out all night. Naughty, naughty, Wilhelm, gadding about with +_putas_ the whole night through and God knows where you are sleeping it +off but I guess your little dog is watching to see that no one rolls you +for your wad. Or wasn't it a debauch that kept you out all night? +Anyway, I'll bet you made your rounds in a Renault you rented from the +Phoenix Garage. + +The _Marques de Avillar_ was being eased into its dock. The cab drivers +were waving at the passengers lined up at the rail, and Marina was +hopping up and down, shouting and waving a big yellow handkerchief like +a banner. The coffee _por favor_ has grown cold and _por favor_ a pot of +hot _por favor_ and that's the idea _muchas gracias_ and you could have +docked the _Marques_ in my last yawn. Hall drank a steaming cup of hot +coffee. + +The gangplank was being wheeled to the ship. There was a knot of ship's +officers on the lower deck. They shook hands with the customs men and +the medicos who trotted up the gangplank, led them inside to the main +salon. Men in blue uniforms with official papers under their arms. A +press photographer and a bald roly-poly reporter. They'll be out in a +minute, and damn it the morning sun is growing too bright for a pair of +tired old eyes, and dipping his napkin in the fresh cold water on the +table Hall shoved the cold compress against his heavy eyes. + +Two cups of coffee later, the first of the passengers from the _Marques +de Avillar_ emerged from the salon and walked down the gangplank. +Priests--Hall counted twenty--followed by scrawny stewards with their +bags. A few of the priests were old, but most of them were young men who +carried themselves erect, their shoulders squared well back, their walk +the off-duty walk of the officer on leave from the front. Hall wondered +how many of the younger men in clerical collars were really priests and +how many of them were used to wearing other uniforms. He remembered the +day, less than two months earlier, when the C.T.E. liner _Cabo de +Hornos_ had docked in Havana and one of General Benitez' men had grown +suspicious of two of the Spanish priests on board; a brief discussion of +theology had been followed by a thorough search of their luggage, and +the young travelers woke up the next morning to find themselves learning +theology in the concentration camp on the Isla de Pinas. + +Hall was humming "Onward, Christian Soldiers." He watched two young +priests get into Pepe's cab and be driven away. The priests, and later +four nuns, entered the cabs in pairs. Then, following some customs men, +one of the ship's officers came out of the salon with a man in a black +suit and a Panama hat. They carried thick portfolios under their arms, +and behind them followed a steward with two heavy hand trunks. + +There was a blur of green and yellow on the gangplank, and then Marina +was on the lower deck, exchanging wild embraces with the ship's officer +and the man in the Panama hat. The three men walked down the gangplank, +Marina happily bringing up the rear behind the officer. He darted in +front of his friends when they reached the pier and signaled one of the +cabs. The first cab in line rolled up to the curb and picked them up. + +The sun shone into Hall's face. He washed his eyes with cold water, had +another cup of coffee. Thick, the air is growing thick and heavy. Hell +with it. Olive oil and garlic, coffee, squids, mussels, saffron, +mackerel, heat. "_Besame_" on the juke box again. Don't run off just +yet. Look at the watch. Start to get impatient. _Hombre de negocios_ +waiting for a colleague to work out a deal. A ton of coffee, three box +cars of ore, a round ton of sugar. He's way overdue and you're getting +impatient, but you don't leave yet. You don't leave and show the little +dog wherever he or his partners are hiding that you had breakfast here +this morning just to keep an eye on the _Marques de Avillar_. No, senor, +you would not be as careless as the faggot. No, senor, oh no, senor, +only the air is getting thicker and somewhere in the kitchen someone is +looking at me and laughing I swear it I swear it only I can't help it +this is the only face I have. + +Soft laughter. Eyes looking in his direction. The now blazing sun. The +flags on the mast of the white ship; crimson and gold of Fernando e +Isabel, the triangular pennant of the C.T.E., and the mucking five +arrows of the Falange floating insolently in the breeze over the heart +of a democracy. Don't leave too soon. Look at your watch again and curse +the mucking _hombre de negocios_ who's holding up your big deal. And +what was the name of the C.T.E. radio officer from the _Ciudad de +Sevilla_ whom poor old Fielding had in his report? Jimenez, Eduardo +Jimenez, thank God, my memory for names is like a sponge and what would +you say if the ship's officer who got that _abrazo de amor_ from the +faggot was C.T.E. Radio Officer Jimenez and damn the sun and damn the +olive oil on the hot stove chunks of garlic and squid floating in the +hot oil and stinking up the thick murky air and it's cooler with the +collar open. + +Eyes looking at him from the kitchen. Soft laughter. Some joke. Hall is +cockeyed on _cafe con leche_ and what's that it's the cup you lug and +what's that it's the coffee spilling all over your pants and if those +empty-faced bastards in the kitchen don't stop laughing I'll get right +up from the floor and put a right cross through their lousy guts. That's +just the ticket. Clip them with the old right, like the time in San +Sebastian when the gonzo with the feather in his hat made the mistake of +getting within range. Watch the old right, keed, watch the old K.O. +sockeroo. Watch it, watch it, don't forget to duck. WATCH IT! + + * * * * * + +The driver of the rickety four-wheeled bus was thumping time with fat +brown fingers on the rim of the heavy wheel. He didn't sing, just sat in +his bucket seat with the faded flowered cretonne slip cover (bet you a +good dinner his wife sewed it for him when he got the job) and thumped +time. The kid with the guitar in the front seat was doing the singing. +"Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." He was a nice kid and drunk as a loon, but sweet +and happy drunk. Nothing ugly about the kid. "Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." + +"Why is he singing?" Hall asked. + +Behind him, someone in the rear seat answered, "He's happy. His favorite +baseball team won the San Hermano tournament." + +Hall turned with a start, faced an impassive-looking farmer in blue +jeans. + +"You were fast asleep, senor," the farmer said. + +"Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." A bad dream. Go back to sleep. Or better yet, +wake up and put the light on. But the light was on. The dim yellow +lights inside the bus. "Ay, Jalisco, Jalisco." Scots wha hae wi' Wallace +fled. Scots wha ... God, no! A new song. No more Jalisco. The farmer +came into the town his cheeses ripe his mangoes brown he spied a maiden +by her stall she ... God, no! + +"Ay, Muchachita, Muchachita." The kid was still in the groove. +Four-string chord, six-string chord. _Un beso, un beso! Reflecciones de +otros tiempos._ More nice chords. The farmer remembers other times, +other maidens who pursed their lips and gave him _un beso_ when he +begged. What am I to the farmer and what is he to Hecuba? + +"For a _borracho_ he sings well." + +"Yes, with a skinful he is a virtuoso." The sound of his own words +startled Hall. He turned around to the man who had spoken to him. The +farmer smiled. + +"Pardon me, senor," the farmer smiled, "but tonight you are a little of +the virtuoso yourself, no?" + +"No." God, no! + +"I apologize, senor. You are not well?" + +"No. I am well." But where in hell am I? _Ay, muchachita, muchachita._ +Cigars in the coat pocket. Broken, all of them. Smashed to shreds. I +fell on them. When I fell they were smashed. Cigarettes in the side +pocket. Black tobacco, thicker than the cigarettes back home, +brown-paper package. _Bock, La Habana._ + +"Have you a match?" That's a good one. Felipe's been waiting three years +for J. Burton Skidmore to say it. "_Tiene usted un fo'foro?_" Very +welcome. Yes, they are Cuban. No, I am not Cuban myself. I dropped the +_s_ in _fosforo_? I have recently spent some time in Cuba. Yes, Batista +is a fine man. Where are you going? Is this your village? + +"Good-bye, friend." This from outside, the farmer standing on the dirt +road, Hall's gift cigarette glowing in his mouth. A tiny village. +Houses, store, the whitewashed village school, a cast-iron statue of San +Martin and Bolivar shaking hands, an open-front cafe, the small church. + +"Hello, friend." The kid with the guitar waved at Hall. "When did you +get on the bus?" + +"I don't remember," Hall said. + +"Good. Neither do I. What's your favorite song?" + +"_No Pasaran._" + +"I know it," the kid said. "It is a good song." His fingers flew over +the strings, found the right chords. Hall joined him in the words of the +Spanish Republic's song of resistance. + +Night, deep-blue night, the yellow mazdas of the farmers' village way +behind them now, and the _gua-gua_ rolling down the highway between +plowed fields and fields of sugar and nothing in sight but the broad +fields. + +"Hey, driver!" That was me. I can talk now. I can stand, too. If I grip +the tops of the seats I can walk to the front without taking a pratt +fall. "Driver, _gua-guero_ ..." + +"Jump, it's not high, senor ..." + +Feet on the ground once more. Black blue soft chill night air. There +goes the _gua-gua_. Red tail light bouncing around the bend in the road. +No ship. No sun. No garlic broiling in olive oil. Nothing. Get off the +road. Get up. Off the road. Get to the fence. Get up, get up, here comes +the blackout again, here it comes, watch it, men, this is it. + +He remembered the kid with the guitar, the rich voice of the driver. +_Jump, it's not high._ It was still night. He was lying in a field, +about fifteen yards from the highway. The taste of black earth at his +lips had awakened him. + +He turned his mouth away from the plowed earth. There was no sense in +trying to get up. He knew that much. All in. He was all in. Every bone, +every muscle ached. He closed his eyes, sank into a deep dreamless +sleep. + +Thirst wakened him. It was a thirst that started in his throat, spread +to his dry cottony mouth, sank deep into his drying insides. They were +drying out, drying out fast. He had to have water, or they would dry up +completely, and then he would be dead. + +I am now an animal, he thought. I must have animal cunning. I must sense +water and then I must get to it. Where things grow there must be water. +A stream. A well. + +He got to his knees, started to crawl deeper into the plowed field, +putting another few yards between himself and the road. He crawled into +a clump of weeds. The dew on their leaves brushed against his face. +"It's water," he said, and he licked the dew from the weeds. The thirst +remained. + +Fire. Build a fire and attract a watchman, a farmer, another bus rolling +along the deserted road. No, don't build a fire. Cane burns like oil. +Remember what poor old Fielding said? No fire. You'll be roasted alive. +Find water. It's a sugar field. Must be an irrigation ditch around. Find +the ditch. + +More ground gained by crawling. Then the sleep of exhaustion, no dreams +only sleep until the thirst becomes stronger than the exhaustion and +then more crawling until ... God! there is a ditch. Hear it, smell it. +Must be water, couldn't be this much mulepiss. Now drink your fill and +bathe your face and get your head away from the top of the ditch before +you fall asleep again and drown in two inches of it. It has a name. It's +water. + +This time Hall rolled over on his back when he felt that sleep was +overtaking him. + +There were a million bugs on the mud walls of the ditch. They crawled on +Hall's hands, on his face, and one column of intrepid bugs slithered +into his mouth and got caught in his throat and he was sick. He moved +away from the mess, tried to sit up. He could see a mound of rocks near +the road. With all his remaining strength, he started to crawl toward +the mound. + +It took him two hours to negotiate the twenty yards between the ditch +and the rocks. He lost count of the number of times he collapsed to his +face and fell asleep on the journey. All he knew was that when he woke +up, he had to get to the rocks. He could sit on the rocks and wait for a +truck or a bus to pass by. Then he could hail the driver. + +But when he reached the fence, he saw that the mound was on the other +side of the road. Fall asleep in the middle of the road and the next +truck that rolls along crushes you like a roach. _Putas y maricones! +Maricones y putas!_ Blood will run in the streets of the city when I get +up, the brown blood, the black blood, the blue blood. _Arriba Espana_ in +a pig's eye. You mean _Deutschland Erwache_, senor, and come a little +closer, you with the yoke and the five arrows on your cap, come a little +closer and get your filthy head bashed in. God, when I get up I'll kill +them I'll kill them if these chills ever go away I'll kill them I'll +kill all the baby killers when these chills go away oh God look at the +baby killers marching through Burgos with the holy men shaking holy +water on their lousy heads. Whores and faggots! Faggots and whores! I'm +getting up! + + * * * * * + +He was asleep when the army lorry roared by and then stopped down the +road, brakes screeching, rubber biting into macadam. + +The sergeant's brandy did no good. Neither did the fresh water they +poured on his face, the brandy they rubbed into his wrists. All this +they had to tell him later. + +He remembered nothing about the lorry. The bus he remembered; the +driver, the flowered-cretonne slip cover on the driver's seat, the +farmer, joining the kid in _No Pasaran_. He remembered jumping from the +bus, crawling for water, giving up the ghost when the bugs crawled into +his throat. And the rocks. There was that mound of rocks. + +Now there was a narrow bed in a small room. A man's room, obviously a +man's room. Desk, lounging chair, worn grass rug. For some reason +Fernando Souza was sitting in the lounging chair. Another man was +standing near the bed, looking down at Hall, his fingers pressed to +Hall's pulse. + +"Is that you, Souza?" Hall asked, and the night clerk of the Bolivar +left the chair and joined the doctor. + +"You will be well now," Souza said. + +"The pulse is coming back," the doctor said, to Souza. He let go of +Hall's wrist. When he went to the desk, Hall could see the military +trousers beneath his white coat. + +"Can you talk, Don Mateo?" Souza asked. + +"I think so. Where am I? What day is it?" + +The doctor went to the door. He held a whispered conversation with a +soldier who was waiting on the other side of the door. Then he took +Souza's chair. "Such cursing," he laughed. "When they brought you in, +Senor Hall, you had no pulse, you had the temperature of cold beer, and +your heart had just about three beats left. You were biologically more +dead than alive. But I swear, before I gave you the first ampule of +adrenalin, the curses were pouring out of your lips like the waves of +the ocean. How do you feel now?" + +"Very tired." + +"Are you hungry?" + +"I don't know." + +"You'll be able to eat soon. I've been feeding you through a needle for +seven hours. How would you like a steak?" + +"What time is it?" + +"Five o'clock," Souza said. "I've been here with you all afternoon, Don +Mateo." + +"What's this 'Don' business?" + +Souza smiled. "I am glad to see that you are making jokes, _companero_." + +"Where in hell are we?" + +Souza and the doctor took turns in telling the story. The soldiers had +picked him up in the road some ninety miles from San Hermano. More dead +than alive, they put him in the lorry and rushed him to their garrison. +There, while the commandant examined his papers, the doctor, Captain +Dorado, moved him into the commandant's room and gave him his first shot +of adrenalin. + +"Was it a heart attack?" Hall asked. + +"No," the doctor said. "You were drugged." + +Hall listened to the doctor's technical description of the drug which +had felled him. He had heard of it before. It worked like an overdose of +insulin. Burned up the sugar, then the energy in the body, and then blew +the fuses. Something like that, anyway. Another hour without adrenalin +and it would have been curtains. That second pot of coffee and the soft +laughter in the kitchen. Damn their eyes, that's where it happened. Then +eight hours of lying in the commandant's bed, cursing, sleeping, getting +needles of adrenalin, needles of energy, needles of the stuff that makes +pulses beat to the right measure. + +"Are we tiring you?" + +"No, Captain. I'd like something to eat, though." + +"I ordered some hot broth." + +"Thank you. I'm glad you're here, Fernando." + +"The commandant called me," Souza said. "He found your address through +Pan American Airways." + +"Oh." The letter. It had gone to Pan Am for forwarding. Then it was +still safe. + +"I will return in a few minutes," the doctor said. "I want to see about +your broth." + +Souza waited until the doctor was out of the room before he spoke. +"Providence was with you," he said. "The commandant here is a Tabio man. +He called me at once to find out who you were. Another man might have +called your Embassy first." + +"Have they called the Embassy yet?" + +"Not yet, _companero_." + +"What happened to the men the _maricon_ met at the pier?" + +"We have them under sharp eyes. They went first to Jorge Davila's home. +Then they went to the country. They are in Bocas del Sur at the estate +of Gamburdo's brother, the cattle raiser. The _maricon_ left them there. +He is now in San Hermano with Ansaldo. They were to be with Don Anibal +this afternoon." + +"And the girl?" + +"With Ansaldo." + +"When are you going back to the Bolivar?" + +"In an hour." + +"Tell her that I telephoned to say that I would be out of the city +tonight. I was to see her for dinner. What about the priests from the +boat? Are they all really priests?" + +"Who knows? Perhaps I shall know more when I return to the city." + +"How long will I be on my back?" Hall asked. "Did the doctor say?" + +"Not long. You have recovered from the drug, he says. Now you need food +and another day's rest." + +The doctor returned followed by a soldier who carried a small tray. "Hot +soup," he said. "And after the soup, some rich beef stew. But first, +some brandy. Three glasses, corporal. We'll drink to the memory of +Lazarus." He helped Hall sit up in bed, propped some pillows behind his +back. Only when he sat up did Hall notice that a large signed photograph +of Anibal Tabio hung over the commandant's desk. + +"Let's rather drink to the health of Anibal Tabio," Hall proposed. + +Souza and the doctor watched with approval as Hall ate the soup and the +stew, and then sipped mate through a silver straw. "He's going to be +well in a matter of hours," the doctor said. "Well enough to start +cursing again. It is a shame that I do not know English. But your +Spanish curses were enough for me." + +"What was I cursing?" Hall asked. + +"What didn't you curse, senor? Franco, _putas, maricones_, Hitler, +Gamburdo, the Cross and Sword ..." + +"God! Who heard me?" + +The doctor smiled. "Be tranquil," he said. "Just the commandant and +myself, and one of the soldiers. But you don't have to worry about the +soldier. He is the son of a miner in the north." + +"The soldier," Souza said, "is reliable. I have already seen him." + +"You are among friends," the doctor said. "Souza has told us about you." + +"I owe my life to you," Hall said. + +"From what I have learned," the doctor laughed, "you are not an easy man +to kill." + +"When can I get out of bed?" + +"Tomorrow. That is just as well, senor. The garrison tailor is cleaning +your suit now. Would you like more mate?" + +"Could I have another brandy?" + +"Of course. But then you must sleep." + +"I'm tired of sleeping." + +"I am prepared for that." The doctor called for the corporal, ordered +him to prepare a hypodermic syringe. "You must get some sleep, senor," +he said. + +In the morning, the doctor pronounced Hall well enough to leave the +commandant's bed. Hall's clothes, the suit cleaned and freshly pressed, +the shirt washed and ironed, the shoes polished to a glow, were laid out +on a chair near the bed. "We do things thoroughly in the army," the +doctor said. + +"I see." + +"The commandant would like to join you for breakfast." + +"In the officers' mess?" + +"No. Here." + +"Please tell him that I would be honored." + +"Good. Can you dress yourself?" + +"I'm all right, thanks to you, Captain. I feel as if I'd had a week's +rest on some quiet beach." + +"I'll get the commandant, then. The corporal will show you the way to +the washroom. I've laid out my razor and shaving things for you." + +It was good to stand on steadied legs again, good to walk erect like a +man. The razor had a nice edge. It sliced through the stems of the +two-day beard without snagging. For some reason, the efficiency of the +razor delighted Hall beyond measure. He studied the results of the shave +in the wall mirror, then looked for signs of his illness. Two days were +lost, he thought, two days of which he could account for but a few +hours. The doctor could fill in most of the second day. The first night +was something Hall himself could remember. It was like a bad dream one +longs to forget, but he could remember the bus, the field, the ditch, +the rock pile. He could remember staggering, crawling, getting sick, +passing out and crawling and passing out again. But there were at least +ten hours that remained a total blank; that portion of the day between +the time he blacked out in the cafe near the Spanish line's pier and the +moment he became aware of the kid in the bus. + +An enlisted man was cleaning up the commandant's room when Hall +returned. "The major will be here in five minutes," he told Hall. "And +in the meanwhile, he sent you these." He handed Hall a flat tin of +American cigarettes. + +Hall offered one of the cigarettes to the soldier. He sat down in the +leather chair near the desk, looked at the inscription on Tabio's +photograph. "To my dear Diego, my comrade in prison and in +freedom--Anibal." + +"The commandant is a close friend of Don Anibal's," the soldier said. "I +think I hear him coming now." The soldier stepped out of the room. + +A moment later someone rapped gently on the door. + +"Come in," Hall shouted. + +The door opened. In the doorway, a man in uniform, his hat carried +correctly under his left arm, paused, made a soft salute. "Major Diego +Segador," he said. "We are honored to have you as our guest." He shook +hands with Hall, sat down in the desk chair facing the portrait of +Tabio. + +"I am grateful to you for--everything," Hall said. + +"It was nothing," Segador said. "After Souza spoke to me about you, I +was sorry we could not do more." + +"What more could you have done?" + +The major's lips parted over his long teeth in a mirthless smile. "We +could have killed the _cabron_ who drugged you, _companero_." + +"You know who did it?" + +"It could have been anyone in that cafe. What's the matter with Delgado? +Didn't he know it is owned by a dirty Falangist?" Color rose to the +major's dark cheeks. He was a man of Hall's own years, shorter, but with +a pair of powerful hands capable of hiding the hands of a man twice his +size. The hands were gripping the arms of his chair now, the knuckles +white as the major fought to control his rage. Hall knew the feeling, +sensed the fires that burned in the major's head. He called me +_companero_ a moment ago, he thought, he knows what I'm after. + +"Pepe is all right," Hall said. + +"He should have more brains." The major opened the locked middle drawer +of his desk, pulled out a sealed brown envelope. "Your papers," he said. +"Please examine them and see if everything is present." + +Hall tore open the envelope, shook the contents to the desk. Passport, +wallet, not more than fifty pesos missing, a book of travelers' checks, +some sheets of blank paper, a small leather address book, wrist watch, +the Bock cigarettes. Except for the fifty pesos, everything else which +belonged in the wallet was there, money, pictures, cards, the letter +from Havana. + +"Nothing is missing," Hall said. He took the letter from its envelope +and counted the pages. + +"I'm sorry I had to read your love letter," Segador said. "But it was +necessary." + +"I know," Hall said. "But it is not a love letter." + +The massive face of the major reflected his surprise. "Not a love +letter?" he asked. "Ah, here's the coffee. Come in, corporal. Set the +trays down on the desk." + +Hall waited until the corporal left. "It is not a love letter," he +repeated. "I would like very much to interpret it for you. I think it +might explain why I was drugged." + +"Before you start," the major said, "there are two things that you +should know. The first is that Souza has given me a fairly good idea of +why you came to our country. The second is that for your own sake, and +for ours, I had to notify your Embassy that we had picked you up drunk +in a village cafe last night." + +"Drunk?" + +"I'm sorry, _companero_. I mean no disrespect, but your Embassy is not +very much in sympathy with many things a man like yourself is willing to +die defending. Under the circumstances, you can spare yourself some +unnecessary trouble if you say merely that you were drunk. If you stick +to this story, you can help yourself and, to be very frank, you can help +Don Anibal." + +"You are his friend, aren't you?" + +The major got to his feet. "His friend?" He undid his tie, then took his +shirt off. His torso was a mass of old and, for the main part, +improperly sewn scars. Mementoes of bullets, steel whips, knives. "My +republicanism is more than skin deep, my friend." + +"Then I can tell you everything." Hall dipped into the tin of American +cigarettes. "It started in San Juan," he began, "or rather it really +started in Geneva, when I met Don Anibal for the first time. But it was +in San Juan that I read that Dr. Ansaldo was on his way to San Hermano +to treat Don Anibal. And if I may jump to the end of my story first, +this love letter seems to confirm what I suspected about Ansaldo. Do you +see what it says here about the doctor who treated Carlos?" + +For an hour, Hall told Segador of what he had learned and experienced +since arriving in the country. The major interrupted with questions +frequently, made notes in a small black notebook. "Please," he said, +when Hall finished his account, "I am going to repeat the important +parts of the story to you. Correct me if I am wrong or if I leave +anything out." + +He recited the story back to Hall, then consulted his watch. "The Press +Secretary of your Embassy is due to call for you in a few minutes," he +said. "Please remember your story. You were drunk." + +"Was I with a _puta_?" Hall asked. + +The major grinned. "No," he said, "that I did not think necessary. +Although if it were, I assure you I would tell your Embassy that you +were with the mangiest _puta_ in six provinces." + +"What do we do now?" + +"It is hard to say. In the meanwhile, I think there is something you +need." He took a large automatic out of his desk, slipped a clip of +bullets into its grip, and handed the gun and a small box of cartridges +to Hall. "If we could only prove to Don Anibal before it is too late +that Ansaldo ..." + +"How?" + +"We must find a way. In the meanwhile, stay alive for the next few days. +I have friends. They will watch for your safety. Souza, others. They +will bring you my messages. And be careful in cafes." + + + + +_Chapter nine_ + + +The American Embassy sent a well-dressed young attache to call for Hall +in the morning. He arrived in a low-slung yellow sedan, introduced +himself as Orville Smith, snubbed everyone in sight, and relaxed only +when he and Hall were well out of sight of the camp. "They said that you +sure hung one on," he said pleasantly and, Hall realized, with even a +touch of admiration. + +"Must have been something I ate," Hall answered. + +"Glad you turned up intact, old man. Might have led to some amusing +complications. If the major had called five minutes later, this would +have appeared on the front page of _El Imparcial_ this morning." + +He gave Hall a galley proof of a news story. _Missing American Writer +Believed Victim of Communists._ Missing since yesterday ... last seen +leaving hotel ... On Wednesday, at American Embassy party, Hall had +discussed Red threats to his safety, told publisher of _Imparcial_ that +giant Red assassin had followed him day before ... Embassy officials +described Hall as author of book on experiences on _H.M.S. Revenger_ ... +The missing American failed to phone or keep appointment made with +publisher of _Imparcial_ in connection with Soviet threats ... Feared +abducted and killed. + +"What do you make of it?" Hall asked. + +"Politics. They take their politics seriously down here. Was it true +that you were followed?" + +"Yes. But not by the Reds. By the fascists." + +"Are there any fascists down here?" This in a tone of detached +amusement. + +"A few. How well do you know Fernandez?" + +"Quite well. He's one of the few gentlemen in San Hermano. Comes from an +old Spanish aristocratic family. Did you really have an appointment with +him?" + +"It wasn't definite. He told me he had heard of some Red plot to bump me +off. I just kidded him along." + +"Mr. Fernandez is really very well informed," Smith said. "He has a +crack staff of reporters, and the information that they pick up +shouldn't be ignored." + +"Yeah," Hall said. "I hear he's good. Matter of fact, I heard +_Imparcial_ is getting the Cabot Prize this year." + +It was like a shaft driven into Smith's armor. "No!" he exclaimed. "Who +told you?" + +"Some _puta_," Hall said, dryly. "In bed." He watched the blood rushing +to Orville Smith's head. "You'd be surprised at what a gal who sleeps +around can pick up." + +"She was pulling your leg, Hall." + +Hall grinned. "Please, Mr. Smith," he said. "Gentlemen don't discuss +such things." Smith grew redder. + +"Not to change the subject," Hall said, "but what's cooking in town? In +politics, for example. Doesn't the Congress open today?" + +"Not really. They have the ceremonial opening this afternoon. According +to tradition, the President speaks to the entire Congress. Then they +settle down to a week of reviewing last year's business. The first +working session really starts in about ten days." + +"And today I guess Gamburdo is speaking instead of Tabio." + +"Oh, beyond a doubt. Tabio is really on his last legs, old man. I +suppose I should feel sorry about the old coot, but then you learn +things in my game." + +"About Tabio?" + +"Oh, yes. We had information that in his address to the Congress, Tabio +was planning to call for the nationalization of all the mines in the +country." + +"But why?" + +"Oh," Smith said, "because he was being forced into it, I guess. I've +met Tabio and he's not as bad as his enemies make him out to be. But +what are you going to do when you are elected by a Popular Front +majority? The Communist Senators and Deputies are all from the mining +provinces up north. They've been hollering for the nationalization of +the mines for twenty years. Now they're strong enough to put the squeeze +on Tabio." + +"But isn't Gamburdo in the Popular Front?" + +"Gamburdo is different," Smith said. "He has different ideas, and he +can't be pressured by the bolos." + +"I'm doing a story on Gamburdo for a magazine back in the States. You +get around. Tell me more about Gamburdo. I've got him down as the coming +man on the continent. Am I half cocked, or is he really hot?" + +Orville Smith discussed Gamburdo, Tabio, the political scene. He talked +about the politicos, about their ideas, about the gossip which followed +them in their careers. Carefully prodded by Hall, he spoke fluently for +nearly two hours. It was a very revealing monologue. It told Hall how +Orville Smith had spent his three years in San Hermano. Week-end parties +at the estates of wealthy Spanish planters. Dinners, cocktails, high +masses, weddings, fishing trips with the Vardienos and the Fernandezes +and the Gamburdos. Info straight from the horse's mouth. + +Tabio the tool and or agent of bolshevism. The better element. How +social legislation would push taxes up and cut down returns on American +investments. Vardieno gives lovely parties on his island. No, not many +lately. No oil for the boats, hard enough to get it for his narrow-gauge +Diesel locomotives. Fine lad, young Quinones; made the golf team at +Princeton. The Vardieno girl in the Press Bureau? That would be the one +who went to finishing school in the States. She just started in at the +Bureau for some experience. Cross and Sword? Oh, I know the pinkos back +home would call it fascist. It's not, really. Conservative, for free +enterprise and private ownership. All the better-element folks belong or +support it. Do I know any labor leaders? No, never met one. Did I ever +spend a week-end in a small village hotel? No, thank you, the roaches +are bigger than sparrows in the sticks. + +Hall thought about the art of diplomacy. You take a kid from the FFV's +and at an early age you wrap him in cellophane and send him off to some +nice, prophylactic boarding school, well-heeled white Gentiles only, +thank you, High Episcopalians preferred, and only nice clean thoughts, +none of them less than a century old, are gently swished against the +cellophane until some of them seep through by osmosis. He meets only the +sons of the better element and outside of an adolescent clap he picks up +on one wild week-end with some of the boys in New York he has no real +problem until he's eased out of prep and then he has an idea he wants to +go to Harvard but the family prevails and he does time at Princeton, +nearly makes varsity football but a high tackle in a practice scrimmage +changes his mind, and then he is ready for his place on the board of the +mill but someone--a nice girl of fine breeding, no doubt--puts another +idea in his head. So he goes to Georgetown, fills out a lot of nasty +forms, and then, _voila!_, the young monsieur arrives in Paris as Third +Secretary and dreamily sends that first letter home to the folks: Hello +Folks, here I am in Gay Paree learning how to be an Ambassador. + +And then in Paris, Hall thought, listening to Orville Smith, your young +Third Secretary naturally gravitates to his French equivalents, the +young bluebloods who were reared in French cellophane and got the same +ideas, only in French, in their own versions of Princeton and Groton. +The better element meets the better element, and he makes factual, +intelligent reports. The Popular Front falling into hands of the bolos. +This he learns at a week-end party on Flandin's yacht. The Croix de Feu +and the Cagoulards are fine, conservative forces. Only the pinkos call +them fascists, but Bertrand de Juvenal, the fledgling ambassador's pal, +knows otherwise. Sit-down strikes, forty-hour week, vacations with +pay--he puts them all down in his reports; communist, of course. Got the +lowdown on the beach at Cannes just the other day. Daladier is the man +to watch. Yes, he is in the Popular Front. But Daladier's different. +He's like Monsieur Laval, the French Calvin Coolidge. Fine force for +sensible government. There will be no war, Munich has settled that. Got +the lowdown from Flandin himself. Germany will be defeated. Spent a most +fascinating week-end with General Weygand. Marechal Petain is man of the +hour. Marechal Petain will make France another Verdun. Vichy wants to be +friends with Washington. The Marechal indignantly denies, in private, +that that was a Nazi salute you saw in the newsreels, sir, he says he +was just waving at the cameramen. But Bertrand de Juvenal does not deny, +and Laval does not deny, and Daladier weeps in his collapsed house of +cards. And then comes the transfer to San Hermano at a better rating. + +Smith pointed to the suburbs of San Hermano ahead of them. "We made good +time," he said. "We'll be in the Embassy in ten minutes." + +"Good going. You can drop me at the Bolivar, if you don't mind." + +"Not at all, old man. But say, why don't you drop by for a spot of lunch +with the old man and the boys at the Embassy? We'd love to have you with +us and, besides, the old man will probably want to see for himself that +you're in one piece." + +Hall looked at his watch. "What time do you have lunch?" + +"About one." + +"Good. I'd like to join you. But I'll still have time to stop off at the +Bolivar to change and pick up my mail. I'm expecting a letter from my +sweetheart." + + * * * * * + +Pepe was waiting in his cab in front of the Bolivar. He was contrite and +subdued. "I nearly killed you with my stupidity, Mateo," he said. "I +should have known that cafe was owned by Falangistas." + +"It's nothing, Pepe. I had it coming to me. I'm all over it now, anyway. +What's new?" + +"I have the complete list of where the passengers from the _Marques de +Avillar_ are staying. Their names, too. Except the names of the two men +who are at the Gamburdo ranch. But they are still there." + +"Did you recognize any of the names?" + +"My friends are examining the lists now. I'll have them back for you in +the evening." + +"Have you seen Duarte?" + +"I told him about you. He wants you to call him at the Mexican Embassy." + +"I will, later. I have to go to my room for a minute, and then I want +you to take me to the American Embassy. I'm having lunch there." He +entered the hotel and asked for his mail at the desk. There was a +message from Jerry, a short gossipy note from his publisher, and another +love letter from Havana. + +The note from Jerry was very short. "I missed you, you dog," it said. +"Phone me when you return to town. Jerry." + +The letter from Havana, mailed the day after the first letter, was +almost a duplicate of the first. Again it protested its love, but this +time it said, "How many times must I tell you that the man you think is +your rival is unworthy of all human decencies? Far from being a rival in +my eyes, I look upon him as a creature worse than an assassin. You must +believe me; I detest the man." Hall put the letter in his wallet. + +He examined his room carefully. It had not been searched, the +stethoscope was still in its hiding place, his clothes were just as he +had left them. Everything was as it had been. Hall took out his portable +typewriter, copied the _El Imparcial_ story which had been killed, and +sealed the copy in an envelope. He went downstairs, got into the cab, +and slipped the envelope into Pepe's pocket. + +"Give the envelope to Dr. Gonzales," he said. "And tell him to get the +information to Major Segador right away." + +"I'll drive right out to the doctor as soon as I leave you. Shall I wait +for you outside of the American Embassy after I see the doctor?" + +"I think you'd better." + +Ambassador Skidmore seemed pleased to see Hall. "You gave us quite a +scare, young fellow," he said, his ruddy face beaming, white hair +bobbing as Skidmore shook his head from side to side in mock anxiety. +"Ah, you newspaper boys," he laughed. "Always going off on a tear when +you are least expected to! And here poor Joe Fernandez was so sure that +the Reds had made hamburger out of you, Hall." + +"I'm sorry I spoiled a good story," Hall said. "I'd better call +Fernandez on the phone before he sends out another alarm." + +"No need to, my boy," the Ambassador said. "Joe Fernandez is joining us +at lunch." + +Fernandez showed up with a former Senator, a dignified old dandy named +Rios, who sported a silver-headed cane, a waxed, dyed mustache, and a +Cross and Sword emblem in his lapel. They shared the table in the +Ambassador's small private dining room with Hall, Orville Smith and the +Ambassador. + +The publisher fawned over Hall like a long-lost brother. "You are safe," +he exclaimed. "Thanks be to the Virgin Mother! What happened? Was it +very bad?" + +"I got drunk," Hall said. "That's all that happened." + +"Ridiculous, Senor Hall! You are a man who can take his drink. You were +drugged. Mark my words, senor, you were drugged. You don't know these +Reds." + +Orville Smith winked broadly at Hall. "The main thing is," he said to +Fernandez, "that Hall is safe now. I'm sure he appreciates your concern, +Don Jose." In deference to the Ambassador's three-word Spanish +vocabulary, Smith and the others spoke English. Rios, who spoke only +Spanish, sat between Skidmore and Smith, who acted as their interpreter. + +"What province did you represent in the Senate?" Hall asked the former +Senator. + +"San Martin, in the north." + +"Don Joaquin is a great statesman," Fernandez interrupted. "But when El +Tovarich prepared his gangsters for the elections two years ago, he +armed the Red miners and they held their guns in the ribs of Don +Joaquin's majority." + +Hall listened to Smith translate this account of Rios' defeat at the +polls before he spoke. "And do you plan to run again, Senor Rios?" he +asked. + +Fernandez answered for the dandy. "He will run again," he shouted, "and +he will be elected. Fire can fight fire. Guns can fight guns." + +"I have _pantalones_," Rios said. "I am a man of honor." + +"Don Joaquin's constituents demand that he runs again," Fernandez said. +He turned to the Ambassador, became his own translator. The ex-Senator +nodded happily at every word Fernandez addressed to the Ambassador, as +if by nodding he could bolster the words whose meaning he had to guess. + +"How do you think things will go in Congress today?" Hall asked +Fernandez. + +"The same as every year, Senor Hall. Ceremonials, the speech, and +then--_quien sabe_?" + +Rumors rose from the table. Everyone had a choice rumor to air. Rios had +it on good authority that Tabio's illness was merely a pretext; the +President was afraid to face the Congress lest they force him to justify +his wild socialistic measures which had put the national budget in such +dire peril. Orville Smith informed the men at the table that Tabio's +illness had taken a more serious turn. "In fact, I understand that Dr. +Ansaldo has informed the government that he will refuse to operate on +Tabio without the written permission of the Cabinet." Fernandez spoke of +Ansaldo's skill as a surgeon. + +"How about Gamburdo's speech, Joe?" the Ambassador said. "You promised +to bring me an advance copy." + +"I told my secretary to bring it to you as soon as it arrived," +Fernandez answered. "It is very late in arriving today." + +"Have you any idea of what he is going to say, Joe?" + +"He is a very sound man," Fernandez said. "I am sure that the speech +will be satisfactory." + +"It won't call for the nationalization of the mines, at any rate," Smith +added. + +He made the mistake of translating his remark for Joaquin Rios. He might +just as well have dropped a match into a keg of gunpowder. The wax +mustaches under the purpling nose of ex-Senator Rios began quivering +even before he unleashed an avalanche of ringing livid paragraphs on the +subject. His eyes blind to the cold stares of Jose Fernandez, he +unlimbered his heaviest verbal artillery, pounded the table until the +glasses rattled, pointed accusing fingers at every corner of the room, +and otherwise managed rather effectively to end the luncheon. Fernandez +fairly had to drag him out of the Embassy to cool him down. + +"Fine fellows," Skidmore said to Hall when they were gone. "Best of the +lot down here." + +"Sure," Hall said. "I've known all about Fernandez for years." + +"He's a great guy, Hall. Publishes one of the best newspapers on the +continent. As a matter of cold fact, old man, I wouldn't be at all +surprised if he won the--well, he might be in for a rather high honor." + +"I know. The Cabot Prize." + +"Who told you?" + +Hall looked at Smith, who was growing uncomfortable. "I can't remember," +he said. "But it's hard to keep such a secret in San Hermano." + +"Well, I'll be damned," the Ambassador laughed. "It was nice to see you +again, old man. Drop in any time when you have a problem." + +"Problems in San Hermano? Things seem to be pretty much under control, +I'd say." + +"Yes," the Ambassador admitted. "Things are pretty quiet." + +"Will it be as quiet when Tabio dies? I heard talk that the Gamburdo +crowd is pretty close to the fascists." + +"Gamburdo?" Skidmore grew both amused and indignant. "What kind of +communistic nonsense have you been hearing? I know Eduardo Gamburdo +intimately. I've entertained him at the Embassy, and I've week-ended at +his estate. He's a fine conservative influence on this government and, +damn it all, young man, Gamburdo is a thorough gentleman." + +"Yeah," Hall said. "Thorough." For a few seconds, during the luncheon, +he had toyed with the idea of telling the Ambassador all that he knew +about Gamburdo and Ansaldo and the role of the Falange. Now he cursed +himself for a fool. Skidmore, he saw, was Orville Smith at sixty, but +with the power to make trouble for any visiting American who rubbed +against his deep-set prejudices. "Well, thanks for everything," he said. +"I guess you're pretty busy today." + +Hall rushed out of the Embassy, his face twitching crazily as he charged +down the marble walk to the curb. He had broken into a heavy sweat which +drenched him from head to toe. "Get me out of here," he roared at Pepe. +"Get going before I kill someone." + +"What happened?" Pepe asked. + +"Nothing. Where are we going?" + +"Nowhere. What's the matter with your face?" + +"Nothing." He put his hand against his right cheek. "Nothing. Did you +see Gonzales?" + +"I gave him the letter. He said you should go to the opening of Congress +today. He says you might be surprised." + +"Thanks. I had my surprise for the day already." + +"Gonzales was serious. He says you should go. It starts at four +o'clock." + +"All right. I'll go. Better take me to Gobernacion. I'll need a pass +from the Press Bureau. No, wait, let's go to Duarte's place. He takes +his siesta at this time. I'll call that Vardieno bitch from his place." + +Hall opened his tie. "Have we time to stop for a beer?" he asked. "I'm +dying for a drink." + +"No. We might miss Duarte. He'll have beer for you." + +Pepe was right. Duarte did have beer, and had they stopped on the way, +they would have missed him. He was about to leave the house when they +arrived. Duarte was wearing the green dress uniform of a Mexican +lieutenant-colonel, to which he had pinned his Spanish medals and +insignia. + +"Going to war?" Hall asked. + +"No. To the opening of Congress." + +"You've got time." + +"Hall is dying," Pepe said. "He needs cold beer." + +The Mexican brought out five bottles of beer. "I've got more in the ice +box," he said. "What's the matter?" + +"He wants to kill someone," Pepe said. + +"Me too. What of it?" + +Hall put the mouth of the opened bottle to his lips, tilted his head +back. "God," he said, "Pepe is right. Let me make one phone call, and +then I'll spill it. I've got to get it off my chest before I blow the +top." + +He reached the Vardieno girl on the phone. She was so sorry. The lists +had all gone down to the Hall of Congress. Anyway, all requests for +foreign writers had to come through their embassies. That was the Press +Chief's new ruling. + +"That's fine. That settles it," Hall said when he put the phone away. +"Now I must ask the Ambassador to approve me for the press gallery." + +"Sit down, Mateo," Duarte said. "I can wait a full hour if necessary." +He put a bottle of cold beer into Hall's hand. "Tell us about it." + +"I'll wait outside," Pepe said. + +"No. Stay with us, Pepe. I want you to know the facts. Do you both +remember that I was waiting for a letter from Havana? Well, I got it. +Two letters, in fact. They told me what I wanted to know about Ansaldo." +He drained the second bottle and then told them what had happened to him +at the Embassy. + +"Don't bother with him," Duarte said. "You don't need his permission. +I'll give you my diplomatic invitation and my carnet. The uniform is all +I need to get through the gates. You'll sit in the diplomatic gallery +with me." + +"Great." + +"You can even act as Skidmore's interpreter." + +"_Con mucho gusto!_" + + * * * * * + +Riding to the Hall of Congress, Duarte drew Hall's attention to the loud +speakers fastened to the poles in every plaza. "The government has +bought over a hundred speakers in the past two weeks," he said. "I know, +because most of them were bought in California and I had to O.K. their +transit duty-free through Mexico. I think our friend Gamburdo is up to +something today." + +Hall looked at a knot of grim-faced _Hermanitos_ standing under one of +the speakers. "I think the people suspect it too." + +"We couldn't get an advance copy of the speech at the Embassy, Mateo. +Usually, Tabio releases advance copies to the press and the diplomatic +corps on the morning of the speech." + +"I wonder why?" + +"I can only suspect the worst. After the speech, can you come back to +the house with me? I want to hear what happened to you. Commander New +called me this morning and told me that he had asked the police to +investigate Fielding's death." + +"What? On the phone?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, the damned idiot! Now even if the police are not fixed every damned +fascist in South America knows that the Fielding thing went wrong!" + +"It's too late for cursing now. Let's talk about the whole picture after +the speech." + +The plaza facing the Hall of Congress was filling up with citizens who +had come to hear the speech over the public-address system. Scattered +through the crowds were men carrying signs reading "_Viva_ Eduardo +Gamburdo." Duarte pointed them out. + +"Every one a Cross-and-Sword ruffian," he said. "I used to see the same +faces while the Falange was legal. They then wore the blue shirt." + +"I can't see their faces," Hall said. + +"I've seen their faces. Three months ago Lombardo came to San Hermano to +address the C.T.A.L. convention. The same gang showed up with their +filthy signs, only this time the signs read: '_Viva_ Christ the King' +and 'Go back to Bolshevik Mexico, you Dirty Jew' and 'Down with the +Commune of the anti-Christ' and other lovely things. I know them." + +"Something is happening," Duarte said when they were in the building. +"Everyone is too quiet." They followed a military escort to the Mexican +box. + +The Mexican Ambassador was tense. "I don't like it," he said to Hall and +Duarte. "Why is everyone so quiet on the rostrum?" + +"They look as if they've seen a ghost," Hall said. + +Duarte studied the faces of the officials on the flag-decked rostrum. +"Where's Gamburdo?" he said. "Has anyone seen him?" + +"I saw his car parked outside when I came in," the Ambassador said. + +"What's that? Do you hear it, Mateo?" + +"Sounds like distant thunder, Felipe." + +"It's not thunder. It's the crowd. What have they got to cheer about?" + +"Gamburdo's cheer leaders must have gone to work." + +"I don't like it," the Mexican Ambassador said. "I don't like it." + +A gavel fell on a block. At a signal from the President of the Senate, a +military band hidden in one of the caucus rooms began to play the +national anthem. The music was piped in to the great hall over the +public-address system. + +The gavel called the Congress to order. A clerk called the roll, the +Senate head started the parliamentary ritual. Then the band started to +play the national anthem again, this time without a signal. A door +behind the rostrum opened. + +In the doorway, flanked by his two young sons, Anibal Tabio sat in a +wheel chair. His closest friend, Esteban Lavandero, the Minister of +Education, stood behind him. Slowly, the chair was wheeled to the +rostrum. + +"Members of the Congress," the Senate Chief shouted, "The President of +the nation has come to deliver his annual address." + + + + +_Chapter ten_ + + +There were two shouts. On the floor, one of the Senators screamed "_Viva +La Republica!_" At the same moment a young voice in the press gallery +yelled, "_Viva_ Don Anibal Tabio!" and in the great hall every man +sprang to his feet. The low distant thunder of the crowds in the Plaza +had now swelled to a roar whose joyous overtones poured into the Hall of +Congress through the doors, the windows, the steel and marble walls +themselves. Senators and Deputies of the Popular Front Parties were the +first in the hall to find their voices. "_Viva_ Don Anibal!" they +shouted, applauding wildly, laughing, yelling, embracing one another, +wondering if the tears in their eyes could be seen by their colleagues. +The anti-Tabio Congressmen remained on their feet, their hands moving in +the motions of applause, their hearts cold and sick. Somehow, Eduardo +Gamburdo had found his former place on the rostrum, was now standing and +applauding with the other people in the hall. The signals had been +crossed. The dead President had come to life. Anibal Tabio was sitting +before the chromium microphone, serene and unmoving, his paralyzed legs +neatly covered with a light Indian blanket. + +Outside, the crowd had begun to sing the national anthem. The +legislators, the reporters, many of the Latin American diplomats in the +visitors' gallery took up the words. Hall glanced at his neighbors. +Tears flowed down the cheeks of Duarte and his chief. A few rows away, +Skidmore and Orville Smith, correctly dressed in formal afternoon wear, +stood stiffly at attention, their eyes firmly riveted to the strange +tableau of Tabio and his entourage. + +Someone thrust a huge bouquet of orange and blue mountain flowers at the +invalid in the wheel chair. His son Diego accepted the flowers, laid +them tenderly on an empty chair. Diego at fifteen was heavier than his +father had ever been, darker, more like an Indian peasant than the son +of Anibal Tabio. His brother Simon, who now accepted the second bouquet, +was an eighteen-year-old replica of Don Anibal himself. Tall, lithe, he +had the same fair brown hair, the same thin spiritual face as the +father. Lavandero, standing behind Tabio's chair, had the dark, brooding +face of a Moor. His shock of black hair started at the peak of a high, +broad forehead; his large black mustache failed to dominate his thick, +strong lips. He was rubbing a hairy fist in his eyes and talking softly +to Tabio. + +The President, at fifty-three, seemed to have aged ten years since Hall +had last seen him. His hair had turned gray, and everything about him +was thinner than ever before in his life. In Geneva, Hall had always +wondered what would have happened to the thin, delicate frame of Anibal +Tabio in a tropical hurricane. Now, even from the gallery, Hall could +see that Tabio had grown so thin that the high cheek bones which had +always marked his slender face now stuck out like two sharp points, +almost burying the deep-set gray eyes. Tabio sat quietly in his wheel +chair, smiling at friends on the floor, looking first to Diego then to +Simon, gently patting the hand of his older son when the boy put his +hand on the father's fragile shoulder. + +The ovation continued when the singing of the national anthem was +completed. Tabio turned to Lavandero, whispered a few words. The +Minister of Education held his hands, palms out, toward the assemblage. +"Please," he said. "Please." + +Guests and legislators took their seats. In another room, a drummer +dropped his cymbal on the floor. It rent the sudden silence of the great +hall, and then its echoes were stilled. + +Anibal Tabio squeezed the hands of his sons, drew a deep breath, and +faced the microphone before him. + +"My countrymen," he said, "this is the third year in which I have had +the honor of addressing you at this solemn hour. A week ago, I would +have said that my chances of preaching my own funeral sermon were better +than my chances of opening this, the fifteenth free Congress of our +beloved Republic. + +"But since then ..." he leaned forward, his long chin jutting +pugnaciously forward as he gasped for breath, "since then many things +have come to my ears. I have heard rumors. Strange and disturbing rumors +about what was going to happen today. I need not repeat these rumors to +you. You have all heard them." + +Hall looked at Skidmore's face as Smith translated Tabio's words. + +"Yes, you have heard them. When they came to my ears," Tabio said, "I +thought: What is happening? Who dares to challenge the mandate of the +people? Who dares to speak of perverting the will of the people? It was +then that I knew, as never before, that a President's place is with the +people. If I could sit up in my bed and talk this way to my sons, to my +dear friend Esteban Lavandero, then I could sit up in this chair before +you, the chosen representatives of the people. + +"My good friends, this may be the last time I will ever speak to +you ..." + +Shouts of "No!" rang all over the hall. + +"Hear me, friends. Hear me and mark well what I say. Once this nation +honored me with the post of Minister of Foreign Affairs. As your +Minister, I crossed the ocean. I went to Geneva. I went to Spain, from +where we have derived so much of our culture, our language, so much of +our personality as a people. + +"We are today a free people, not the colonial vassals we were in the +days of Imperial Spain. But Spain, too, had become a free nation in +1931. I saw the free Spain at the hour of her birth, when the hated +Bourbon heard the voice of Spain's millions at the ballot and fled to +the empty pleasures of a decaying society abroad. I also saw the free +Spain in the hours of her agony. It was at that hour that I beheld for +the first time the ugly bloodless face of fascism. + +"It is a cold, metallic, impersonal face, my countrymen, the face of an +Agusto Segura grown to superhuman power, the maniacal face of a mad +killer who suddenly finds all the world's horrible instruments of +destruction in his idiot hands. I saw this beast grow strong on the +blood of free men, and I wept for a gallant people who, for a few brief +moments, had presumed to control their own destinies. + +"Yes," Tabio said, his hand pointing across an ocean, "yes, I wept for +Spain, but through my tears I began to see my own native land, saw my +own people enjoying this precious freedom. And at that moment I knew +that I must dedicate whatever remained of my life to doing all that was +in my power as a man and as a citizen to keep the beast of fascism from +gorging on our young Republic. + +"I have fought that fight to this very moment. But more important than +anything I have done has been the magnificent unity of our peoples in +their determination to struggle against fascism in all of its black +forms. It has not been the President who has led the people in this +great crusade. No, my countrymen. It has been the people who have +created and given their mandate to the President, to the Congress." + +Tabio had never learned a single orator's trick. As a statesman, he +retained all the speaking habits he had originally formed during his +early years as a young professor of history at the university. Teaching, +he once explained, was the process of thinking aloud. And at this +moment, in what he guessed would be his last speech to the nation, +Anibal Tabio returned to the concepts which had gone into his great book +on the relationships of people to government in modern democracy. For +the better part of thirty minutes, he explored these relationships +again. After all these years, the professor was back in class, patiently +expounding his ideas to a new set of faces. + +"Well, that is the state and the people. I have not told you anything +new. You have heard this all before from me." Tabio was laughing softly, +and at himself. "But that is what happens when the people elect a +pedantic professor as their President. Instead of a speech, they get a +long, dry lecture." + +Tabio paused, frowned at the people who sat hushed in the hall. "Have +you forgotten how to laugh?" he asked. A few loyal followers tried to +laugh. "Good," Tabio said. + +"But I am not finished, my countrymen. I have spoken of the ideal +democratic state. Many of us like to feel that we have achieved this +state. That perfection is ours. This is dangerous thinking. Of course, +we are not as imperfect as a certain newspaper in San Hermano and a +certain organization which has usurped the symbol of brotherly love as +its emblem"--this time he drew some real laughter--"we are not as +imperfect as they would have you believe. + +"But even if we were the most perfect state in the world, today this +would mean very little. Our chances of surviving, of progressing until +the Republic of Man became even more attractive than the Kingdom of God, +our chances of surviving at all would still be obscured. If our nation +were some remote island in the skies, whirling on its own axis, remote +from all other lands, perhaps then I would have no fears for our future. + +"We are not this remote planet unto ourselves. We share a world with a +hundred nations, a thousand races. I do not regret that we are part of +this world. I think we should rejoice in our membership in the world's +family of races. But we must not lose sight of the fact that our nation, +no less than any other nation, be it free or fascist, is part of this +strange family. + +"We must never forget that the great war which started in unhappy Spain +in July, 1936, was not a war between good and evil in Spain alone. It +was a war not of two Spanish ideas but of two fundamental world ideas. +It was the start of the universal death struggle between the slave-world +ideas of fascism and the free-world ideas of political and economic +democracy. It was the start of the fascist war against freedom that has +now spread all over the world." + +Tabio glanced at his two sons. He accepted a glass of water, smiling at +the legislators in the front rows as he drank. "Freedom," he said, "is +there a man who does not know the meaning of the word?" Before he +returned to the theme of the world war which had started in Spain, he +explored the full meaning of freedom in modern times. It was only after +he had delivered a profound essay on freedom which shook Matthew Hall +until the American felt a lump rising in his throat that Tabio picked up +the earlier threads. + +"In Spain, then, the forces of freedom suffered a heavy loss. But what +of those small men with narrow little minds who held the reins of so +much of the world's power while Spain bled? What of these tiny +statesmen, these sleek somnambulists who held lace handkerchiefs before +their narrow mouths and laughed while fascism marched in Spain? What of +these wretches who, through the immoral instrument called +non-intervention, sought to end freedom in Spain in the criminal +conviction that the blood of Spain alone would satisfy the fascist +beast? + +"History was not long in giving the lie to these gentry. The beast who +had whetted his insatiable appetite in Spain now started almost +immediately to claw at the world. It was in April of 1939 that Madrid +fell. By September the beast belched and turned on the very creatures +who had covertly and overtly helped him subdue Spain." + +That Tabio had not raised his voice at this point, that he in fact spoke +more softly, accentuated all the more the scorn and the anger in his +heart. + +"Nations have fallen to the beast," he continued. "Nations of meager +freedom, like Poland. Nations of great and traditional freedom, like +France. The war has spread over the world like a Biblical plague. Russia +could not escape it. Nor could our great sister Republic, the United +States. + +"Yes, North Americans now have felt the pain, the anguish, the power of +Axis treachery. No nation can escape this war. + +"My countrymen, we are not an island in the skies. We are a sovereign +nation in the same world, on the same earth, in the same waters, sharing +the same era as the United States, England, Russia and China. It is not +for us to choose whether or not we can stay out of this war. That choice +the world does not permit us. Our only choice is the determination of +what our role must be in this war. + +"There has been strange talk in our land lately. There has been strange +and deceitful talk of neutrality. Has it not occurred to any of you that +those in our midst who howl the loudest for neutrality, who show such a +sudden concern for the lives and safety of the humblest Indian peasant, +that these pious seekers after neutrality have never before worn the +white dove on their family escutcheons? Who are these peaceful gentlemen +who grow pale in the presence of bloodshed? Are they not the same +persons who as young men were proud to be officers in the armies of +Segura, who laughed and drank as they ruthlessly shot down defenseless +miners in the northern provinces? + +"Who are these sudden pacifists in our Republic? Are they not the very +devout gentlemen who sent money and rum and cigars to the fascists in +Spain during the Spanish phase of this war? Are they not the very men +who sent cables of homage to Hitler and Mussolini after the shame of +Munich? Are they not the very men who even now wear the medals of Nazi +Germany, of Blackshirt Italy, of Falangist Spain--who wear these medals +proudly while they chortle over the blood of dying Russians on the +Eastern Front, of dying Americans on the Bataan peninsula?" + +Tabio stopped. His eyes searched the press gallery, then fixed on Jose +Fernandez. He pointed a graceful hand at the publisher of _El +Imparcial_. + +"I ask you," he said, "are they not the very men who write in their +papers that Adolf Hitler, whatever be his alleged faults, is waging a +holy crusade on behalf of Christian civilization against Marxist +atheism?" + +Tabio continued looking at Fernandez, but Lavandero shot a fierce scowl +at Ambassador Skidmore, who seemed bewildered and unhappy as Smith +translated Tabio's questions. The Ambassador, too, had seen the object +of Tabio's shaft. Angry, uneasy laughter broke out on the floor. A cry +of "Long live the United Nations!" from one of the Popular Front +deputies was immediately answered with the shout "Long live Christ the +King" from the public gallery. + +The President, who had heard both shouts, turned to the gallery. "Who +are these neutrals?" he asked. "Are they not the same fascists who hope +to fool God by casting their fascist swords in the image of the Cross of +Jesus? Are they not the fanatics who, rather than see the Axis beast +destroyed, would first destroy the freedom and the dignity of their own +land? + +"They lie. There can be no neutrals in this world war. He who calls +himself a neutral is either a fool or a fascist. And the fine gentlemen +who prate of neutrality are very clever men." + +The Popular Front Congressmen rose to their feet, applauding and adding +to the din with their shouts of agreement. They were joined by a few of +the independents. The delegates of the rightist coalition remained in +their seats, their arms folded across their chests. But they were not +quiet. As the ovation for Tabio continued, loud cries came from the +ranks of the men who kept their seats. "Down with atheism!" shouted one +rightist Senator. "We have no quarrel with any other nation!" another +yelled. "We will not die for Godless Russia!" + +"Long live democracy!" a Popular Front deputy answered. "Long live the +anti-fascist United Nations!" + +Esteban Lavandero pleaded with the Congress for silence. + +"My countrymen," Tabio said, "there can be no neutrality in this war. +There is one official neutral in Europe. His name is Francisco Franco. +We all know what this hypocritical neutrality really is; how it shields +the vile aid that fascist Spain is lending to the Axis. But this is as +it should be. Franco is a fascist, and today fascism must triumph all +over the world or be crushed forever. + +"But what of our own nation, what of the twenty nations of Hispanic +America in this war? What is our stake in this world struggle? + +"If the Axis wins this war, we, like all other nations, must of +necessity lose our political freedom. And if we once lose our political +democracy, we must begin again the long, bitter struggle to win it once +more before we can even begin to dream of creating an era of economic +democracy. + +"If the United Nations win, if world fascism is crushed forever, a new +world era of economic democracy must begin at once. It will not come +easily. The defeat of the Axis will not immediately bring in its wake +the millennium. It will, however, give the common people of the world +the final realization of their great power. In this lies the inherent +strength of political democracy. For democracy is not a static thing. It +can grow and bring in the era of economic democracy, or it can falter +and give way to fascism. + +"The common people of the world, today fighting and dying behind the +banners of the United Nations, have served notice on history that they +will not rest until fascism has been swept from the face of this earth." + +Tabio was now speaking with both arms raised, his hands reaching out to +everyone. "My countrymen, I have said enough. I know that I have spoken +the thoughts that are uppermost in the minds of that great majority of +our citizens who have given their mandate to you and to me. In a week, +you will have to frame the mandate for the delegation which will speak +for our Republic at the forthcoming conference of the nations of the +Americas. Speak out! Speak out honestly, speak out openly. Speak as the +spokesmen of a democracy. Speak as the citizens of the embattled united +democracies of the entire world must speak at this hour. Speak for the +free men of the free world. Speak firmly, for you will be speaking not +only for the future of our own Republic but for the future of all +mankind." + +The Cuban Ambassador, whose seat was nearest the podium, crossed the +plush rail and rushed to Tabio's wheel chair. He fell to his knees, +embraced the President. In a flash, Eduardo Gamburdo left his own place +and copied the Cuban's gesture. The rostrum became crowded with +dignitaries bent on paying the same homage to Anibal Tabio. The envoys +of the Latin American democracies, the delegates of the Free French and +the Spanish Republican juntas, the leaders of the trade unions and the +chiefs of the Popular Front parties milled around the wheel chair as the +pro-democrats in the hall added their voices to the cheers of the crowds +in the Plaza. Duarte, his soft raspy words choked and unintelligible, +embraced Hall. + +Lavandero was pulling the wheel chair back toward the door of the +Speaker's Chamber. The well-wishers of the President followed him into +the room. For a moment, the people in the auditorium applauded the blank +door through which Tabio had vanished. Then young Simon Tabio returned +to pick up the flowers on the chair, and his father's supporters cheered +louder, punctuating their cheers with cries of "Long live Don Anibal!" +The youth streaked into the room behind the platform. + +"Let's get out of here," Hall said. + +"I've got to go to my office," Duarte said. "I have to prepare a report +on the speech. Join me, and then we can talk." + +"Pepe can drive us over." + +"No one drives today," Duarte said when they reached the visitors' +doorway. + +The streets were jammed thick with people. Hall had never seen so many +people in San Hermano before. It was as if every house, every building +in the university, every shop, every wharf, every school had been turned +inside out and its people poured out into the streets. Whole families in +their best clothes, trolley drivers in their work uniforms, longshoremen +in their dungarees, even peasants from the other side of Monte Azul in +their brown-cotton trousers and their broad-brimmed straw hats milled +along the sidewalks, the pavements, the Plaza, the trolley tracks. Cars, +taxis, trucks, wagons, trolleys were parked crazily all over the place. + +Pepe, like a hundred other drivers within a block of the Hall of +Congress, was standing on top of his car, waving the flag of the +Republic, shouting, "Long live the United Nations! Long live Don Anibal! +Long live the Republic!" + +Crowds formed around each parked vehicle, joined the cries of the +drivers. The roofs of the trolleys were jammed with groups of students +and motormen waving flags or the banners of their student societies and +their unions. Thousands of Hermanitos, kids in overalls, housewives, +lawyers, shopkeepers wandered through the crowds with framed portraits +of Anibal Tabio which an hour ago had hung from the walls of their +homes, their offices, their shops. The pictures of Tabio ranged from +formal photographs and oil paintings to crude charcoal drawings and +pictures torn from the daily press. + +Hall and Duarte made their way to Pepe's sedan. When he saw them, he put +the flag in his left hand and with his right hand he pointed to +something on the ground on the opposite side of the car. "Look!" Pepe +shouted. "Down here!" + +A pile of torn Cross-and-Sword placards lay on the cobbles inside a ring +of laughing young Hermanitos who were urinating on the signs. Some of +the boys in this ring showed signs of having been in a fight. + +"The fascists ran away," Pepe laughed. "Don Anibal's speech split their +filthy ears." + +"I'll see you later," Hall told Pepe. + +"Wait!" Pepe shouted. He leaned over the side of his cab. "Boy," he +said, "boy, where is that flag for the American _companero_? That's the +one. Thank you, boy." He lay down on his belly, stretched a huge paw +into the crowd around the remains of the Cross-and-Sword banners. When +he stood up, he had a small American flag in his hand. + +"Wonderful," Hall said, taking the flag. "I guess it's also the Yankee +day to howl." + +A crowd formed around Hall and Duarte. They saluted the American flag, +saluted the Mexican uniform. + +"Long live the United States! Long live Mexico!" the crowd shouted, and +the two men answered, as one, "Long live Don Anibal!" + +The crowd separated, let them through. They walked a few steps, and then +another crowd formed around them. Again they listened to cheers for the +United States and Mexico, again they responded with their cheer for +Tabio. + +"Jesus H. Christ," Hall said. "This is the first time I've carried an +American flag in the streets since I was a Boy Scout in Ohio." + +"It will do you good, Mateo." + +"I like it. But try to make anyone believe it back home!" + +At the fourth block Hall and Duarte started to detour around a trolley +car which had stopped in the middle of a crossing. A dozen hands reached +down from the crowded roof. "_Companeros!_ Take our hands! Climb up! +Take our hands! We want a speech!" + +"Long live Mexico! Homage to Colonel Felipe Duarte, Counselor of the +Mexican Embassy and hero of the war against the fascists in Spain!" + +Duarte had to join the crowd on the roof of the stalled train. He made a +short speech about Mexico, Republican Spain, and the greatness of Anibal +Tabio. + +Two more blocks of happy, cheering Hermanitos. Vivas, salutes for the +American flag and the Mexican uniform. Men in dungarees and heavy shoes +saluting the flag and the uniform with clenched fists. Young women and +old men who embraced Hall and Duarte. Even an ancient with a +nicotine-yellowed white beard, who wiggled out of one crowd, tore the +flag out of Hall's hand, kissed it, and then handed it back to the +American with an embrace and a viva for Voodro Veelson. + + * * * * * + +They were relaxing over a beer in Duarte's office when the explosion +came. + +"What the hell...?" Hall cried. + +There were two explosions. A little one, like the crack of a distant +artillery piece in the mountains and then a louder, deep-toned whoosh of +a noise. They had both heard such noises before. + +"Remember that noise, Mateo?" + +Hall was on his feet. "Do I! Only one thing makes a noise like that," he +said. "Direct hit on a gasoline tank." + +"Exactly." + +While they were washing, the sun had begun to set. Now a new sun had +risen in the skies of San Hermano, risen at a point about a mile north +of the Embassy. A great sheet of flame had shot from the ground, +stabbing at the purpling skies, straining to leap clear of the round +heavy blobs of black smoke which rose from the same place and surged +over and around the fires. + +The streets were more crowded than they had been when Hall and Tabio +left the Congress. New signs had been added to the placards and +portraits of Tabio which the people carried. Tremendous sketches and +blown-up photos of Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin and Chiang Kai-shek, +nailed to frames with handles for two men, bobbed over the heads of the +crowds. Duarte, from the balcony, asked the people on the street what +had happened. They thought it was a victory bonfire. + +"The hell it is, Felipe. Let's see for ourselves." + +"I must stay and write my cable. You go and then come back here." + +"Can you lend me a car and a chauffeur?" + +"You couldn't drive a car through these crowds. You'll have to walk. +Leave through the back way. It opens on a narrow street leading to the +Avenida de la Liberacion. You'll save time." + +Hall found the narrow street deserted. He set out at a fast pace, his +eyes on the flames and the increasingly heavy puffs of smoke. The shouts +of the crowds on the broad avenues and the plazas followed him up the +small street. Over the cries of the Hermanitos came the wail of the +sirens, the clamor of the bells on the American fire engines the city +had purchased a few years back. + +The crowd half-pushed, half-guided Hall to the entrance of the Ritz. He +ducked into the lobby to catch his breath, bought some cigars at the +stand, lit one, and then decided to have a quick drink. + +Margaret Skidmore was at the bar with Giselle Prescott and a young man +Hall had met at the Embassy ball. The Prescott woman was wearing an +immense wheel of a white hat. She was very drunk. + +"What's up?" Hall asked. + +"The Reds blew up a church," Margaret said. "How are you, Matt? I heard +that you were out on a monumental bender. Too many women?" + +"Too much alcohol." Then, to the man with the girls, "Didn't we meet at +the Embassy party? My name is Hall." + +"I'm the Marques de Runa." + +"Spanish?" + +Margaret answered for him. "No. Not exactly. The family had the title +revalidated in 1930." + +Giselle Prescott shuddered over an emptied glass. She whispered +something about rum, romanism and rebellion. + +"What's eating her?" Hall asked Margaret. + +"Gin and communism. She's allergic to burning churches." + +"My father phoned the governor of our province and demanded soldiers to +protect the family estates," the young Marques said. "It is scandalous. +We hear that they've already raped a nun and killed two priests. My +father says that if El Tovarich ..." + +"Who saw the church burning?" Hall interrupted. + +"Everyone, senor." + +"Any of you?" + +Silence. "Any of you?" he repeated. + +"It was anarchy," the Marques said. "When El Tovarich started to rant in +Congress today the Reds swarmed into the city from the wharves. They +tore a religious poster from my cousin's arms and beat him within an +inch of his life." + +"Is that a fact?" Hall was staring at the gold emblem of the Cross and +Sword in the Marques' lapel. "That's too bad." + +"You see what I meant," Margaret said. "Now you understand me, Matt." + +"Sure. Now I understand. How about you, Giselle?" + +"What about me? I'm filing for the WP today." + +"Then you'd better come with me. I'm going to have a look at this +burning church. Might be good color stuff." + +"I don' wanna look," she said. "Gives me hives. Besides, I know all +about it anyway." + +Hall put his arm through Margaret's. "Let's you and me look, then," he +said. + +"Don't go!" the Marques cried. "You're both dressed too well. They'll +kill you." + +"I'd better not go with you, Matt." + +"But I insist. I'm going and you're coming with me." + +They watched de Runa stiffen. "Now don't be a child," she said. "Hall +will bring me back intact." + +"Don't go," the Marques said. + +Hall freed his hands. For a moment he thought he would have to use them +on the Marques. Then Margaret tugged his arm. "Let's go if we're going," +she said. "You wait right here for me with Giselle, Freddie. I'll meet +you here in half an hour." + +The fire was five blocks from the Ritz. There was a half block heap of +glowing brick and rubble. Behind the rubble stood an old church, one +wall partially blown out. The firemen were playing streams of water into +and around this hole. + +"God!" Margaret said. "The stench!" + +"Oil. My guess is that a thousand gallons of oil went up in smoke." + +In the crowd standing at the rim of the fire lines, a taxi driver turned +around and glanced at Hall. "Some fire," he said. + +"What happened?" + +"Garage. The Phoenix Garage went up in smoke. Blew a hole in the +Cathedral when it exploded." + +"The Phoenix Garage?" + +"That's what it is, senor." The driver moved closer to the gutted +rubble. + +"You wait here, Margaret. I'm going to talk to the firemen." He crossed +the fire lines, found his way to the engine captain near the main +hydrant. When he returned to Margaret, he gave her a complete report. +"The fire chiefs say that the Reds didn't blow up the church at all," he +said. "Seems as if the gasoline tanks in the garage caught fire by +themselves." + +Margaret laughed. "Don't tell Gis," she said. "She's already cabled a +story to the States that the Reds burned the church." + + + + +_Chapter eleven_ + + +Duarte knew about the Phoenix Garage before Hall returned to the Mexican +Embassy. "Commander New dropped in while you were at the fire," he +explained. "He told me." + +"Does he know anything else about it?" + +"Not about the fire. But he does know a little more about Fielding. He +says that Fielding's files have been cleaned out. There wasn't a single +copy of any of Fielding's reports when the British officials opened the +files." + +"But the British have all the dope, Felipe. Fielding's reports--at least +the ones he showed me--were all carbons of the reports he made to his +Embassy." + +"I know that. But if his reports are now in the hands of the Falange, +the Axis knows it too. It will give them time to cover their traces. It +will also put the finger on you. One of the things they did find in the +office was a note Fielding had made reminding himself to prepare copies +of certain reports for you, Mateo. That might explain what happened to +you in that Falangist cafe on the waterfront the other day. Fielding had +already been killed when you were drugged." + +Hall lay down on the couch in Duarte's office, took his shoes off. "I'll +be all right in a few minutes," he said. "I just need about ten minutes +of this." + +"I'll get some cold beer." + +"No. I don't need it. Listen, Felipe, do the British know that I was +drugged?" + +"I don't think so. I didn't tell them, anyway. I wouldn't, without your +permission." + +"Maybe you should tell them. It might do some good. But what are we +going to do now that we know about the fire? I still feel like a drunk +on a merry-go-round." + +Duarte laughed. "You can always get off and go home," he said. + +"No. It feels worse when I get off." + +"I did something this morning, Mateo. I sent word to General Mogrado +through one of our diplomatic couriers." + +"Mogrado? Of the Spanish air force?" + +"He's living in Mexico City now. I asked him to rush everything he could +get on Ansaldo. The largest Spanish Republican colony in the hemisphere +is in Mexico, you know. I figured that surely there must be one man +among the exiles--a doctor, a former Army officer, someone--who could +give us the dope on Ansaldo." + +"Sounds like a possibility." + +"We'll see." + +"Don't let me fall asleep here. I've got things to do." + +"Then get some rest. I've got to complete my report." Duarte turned to +his typewriter, glanced at what he had written on the sheet in the +machine. "Mateo," he said, "I'm meeting Dr. Gonzales in an hour. We're +going to try to reach Lavandero with your Havana information on Ansaldo. +Will you join me?" + +"No. I have some unfinished business myself. I think that before the +night is over we'll know a lot more about Ansaldo." + +"What are you going to do?" + +Hall stifled a yawn. "I'm going to take a chance and shoot the works on +someone who can talk. It might work." + +"Be careful, Mateo. You look very tired." + +"I'll turn in early. Let's have breakfast at your place tomorrow, eh?" + +Hall found a phone booth in a tobacco shop near the Embassy. He called +Jerry. + +"I knew it would be you," she said. "I was waiting for you to call, you +dog." + +"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I'm taking you to dinner." + +"I'm famished. Where are you?" + +"I can be at the Bolivar in about fifteen minutes. Meet me in the +lobby?" + +"All right. But hurry. And just in case you've forgotten what I look +like, I'll be wearing a red carnation." + +He became part of the growing multi-directional parade in the streets. +Nightfall had brought colored torches to the hands of many of the +Hermanitos, and hundreds of new huge portraits of the four leaders of +the United Nations. There was a new pattern to the street festivities. +Now whole groups of Hermanitos, each marching behind a picture of one of +the four statesmen, made their way through the crowds to the embassies +of the United Nations and then to the Plaza de la Republica, where they +paraded their signs and their sentiments in front of all the government +buildings and the Presidencia. After that, the marchers joined the +milling groups of celebrators who just seemed to move around in slow +circles, singing, cheering, loudly wishing a long life to Anibal Tabio +and the United Nations. + +The darkened Plaza was packed, torches in the hands of hundreds of the +crowd bringing more light to the ancient square than had been seen there +since the nation had been forced to begin conserving its fuel. Hall cut +through the crowds toward the Bolivar, too excited to sense his fatigue. +This is a night I shall long remember, he thought, this is the night I +will tell my children about if I ever have any children. This is the +night that I saw the power of the common people, the night I saw +democracy take to the streets of a nation's capital and tell the world +that fascism's day of cheap triumphs is done. This is the night of the +meek who shall yet inherit the earth. + +Through the shoulders of the crowd, he could see Jerry's red hair. As he +drew closer, he saw that she had two little girls in her arms. The +children were crying wildly, the tears choking in their throats and +coursing down their contorted faces. + +"There, there," Jerry was saying to them, "everything will be all right. +You're only lost. We'll find out where you belong." But the strange +foreign words only added to the terror in the frightened hearts of the +girls. + +"What happened?" Hall asked Jerry. + +"They're lost. I was afraid they'd get trampled or something, Matt." + +He spoke to the kids in their own language, soothing, silly words. Then +he took them in his arms while Jerry dried their tears with a perfumed +handkerchief. Between sobs, the little girls told Hall that they had +slipped out of the house to see the fiesta and had been having a swell +time until the crazy lady swooped them up, talking crazy words and +keeping them from going on their way. + +"Do you know where you live?" he asked them. They pointed toward their +own house. "We will take you there. And don't call the senorita a crazy +lady, little ones. She is your friend." + +"Are they lost?" Jerry asked. + +"Hell, no. Just tourists. Let's get them home, first." + +The girls lived nearly a mile from the Bolivar. They watched the +paraders in silence while Hall carried them to their house, but when he +reached their block the girls insisted that they could walk the rest of +the way. "No," he laughed, "I'm taking you right to your door. And I'm +waiting in the street until you come to your window and throw me a +kiss." + +The girls, who had less than a dozen years between them, giggled and hid +their heads in his shoulders. "We won't throw you a kiss," the older of +the sisters said, shyly. "You aren't our _novio_." + +"These little devils!" he laughed to Jerry. The girls began to squirm in +his arms. "No, little ones," he told them, "I won't make any more crazy +talk like the senorita." + +"This is our house." + +He put them down on the first steps. "Now hurry," he said. "Upstairs +with you, and be quick!" + +They scrambled up the stairs. "They're sweet," Jerry said. For a brief +moment, the faces of the two little girls appeared at the open window on +the first floor. Then the ample figure of a woman in a white cotton +dress loomed behind them. + +"Let's scram before they catch it," Hall said, but he was too late. The +shrill cries of the girls, as their mother flailed their behinds with a +righteous hand, followed Hall and Jerry down the street. + +"Me and my Good-Neighbor policy," Jerry said. "It's all my fault." + +"They deserve it. What would you do to your kids if they joined a +stampede?" + +Jerry had to laugh. "The same thing, I guess. But what's all the +celebrating about? Is it the local Fourth of July?" + +"No. But I have a funny feeling that in years to come it might be. Your +patient started it." + +"Tabio?" + +"President Anibal Tabio. He decided not to die today. He got out of bed +and addressed the opening session of the Congress and called for war on +the Axis." + +"You're kidding me again, Matt." + +"The hell I am. I was there. I saw him myself." + +"But he's paralyzed, Matt." + +"He spoke from a wheel chair." He told Jerry about the speech, and as +they walked through the dense crowds toward a restaurant, he translated +some of the signs carried by the people who swarmed on all sides of her. + +"_Abajo el Eje_--that's down with the Axis. And that one says Long live +the United Nations. _Mueran los Falangistas_--death to the Falangists." + +"What are they, Matt?" + +"The Spanish fascists. Hadn't you heard of them before?" + +Jerry shook her head. "I still don't see how he got out of bed. He must +have done it on nerves alone. I was at the lab all day with Marina and +Tabio's X-rays." + +"He delivered a great speech, Jerry." + +"I'll bet he did. I guess nothing can stop this country from joining the +democracies now, Matt." + +"No," he said. "Nothing but Gamburdo--if Tabio dies." + +They had to wait on a street corner while a line of students carrying +red torches snake-danced across their path. + +"Where are we eating?" she asked. + +"I know a wonderful place facing the sea wall. It's very plain, but the +food is stupendous. We'll have to walk, though." + +"I'm game. It's fun walking in these crowds tonight. It's almost like +New Year's Eve in New York." + +The restaurant was packed. The waiter had to put an extra table on the +sidewalk for Hall and Jerry. "It's better from here anyway," Hall told +her. "We can see the ocean and get away from the din inside." + +A hundred happy men and women jammed the interior of the restaurant, +singing to the music of the small orchestra, toasting the slogans which +were all over San Hermano this night. Hall invited the waiter to drink a +toast in sherry to Don Anibal, and then he ordered lobster salads and +steaks for Jerry and himself. + +"I missed you," he told Jerry and, hearing his words, he was startled to +realize that he meant them. + +"You're just lonely. But I like to hear you say it." + +"No. I really missed you." + +"What's wrong, Matt? You look all in." + +"Nothing," he said. "I've had a long day. What do you think of this +lobster salad?" + +Small talk. Make small, polite talk about lobsters and cabbages, talk +about the weather and your neighbor's garden, talk about anything before +you start talking love talk and then you'll forget why you have to talk +to her at all. "You're beautiful tonight," he said, softly. + +"I'm ignoring you, Hall." + +Good. Banter. Nice cheap cafe-society banter. Have to play the game as +she is played; silly brittle talk about nothing. Break her down, keep +her off guard, keep your own guard up. Talk about the lobster. Talk +about the steak. Make vacuous wise-cracks over the coffee. Now she's +pleased with the guava pastry. Be the man of the world. Talk about +guava. + +"You're talking down at me, Matt. I told you once before. I'm not really +stupid." + +"God, I'm sorry," he said. "I must have been groggy all through dinner." + +"You sounded it." + +"Can you walk?" + +"I'm too full." + +"Let's sit on the sea wall. It's the pleasantest spot in town." + +Hall bought a paper from a passing newsboy. They walked along the sea +wall for a block, and then he spread the paper out on top of the wall +and lifted Jerry to the broad ledge. They sat facing the sea, not saying +much of anything. + +"The beach looks so clean," she said. "Do you think ..." + +He leaped to the sand. "Take my hand," he said, "and bring the paper +with you." He spread the papers on the sand, laid his jacket over the +papers, and sprawled on the makeshift pallet. Jerry sat near him, took +his head in her lap. + +"Poor Matt! You're so tired. Want to tell me about it?" + +"About what?" + +She stroked his face with soft, gentle hands. "About what's bothering +you, darling. Something terrible is happening to you." + +"There's nothing wrong." + +"You're such a bad liar, darling. I can see it in your face." + +"Only that?" + +"It's enough. That is, when you care for a guy." + +"You're sticking your chin out, baby." + +"No, I'm not. You're really a very gentle person. But you want to be +hard as nails, don't you, Matt?" + +"I don't know what I want to be, baby. I'd like to see the world a good +place for little guys who like republics. I'd like to kill the bastards +who are fouling up such a world. It sounds very big, I know. But I'm not +big. I'm a little guy and I like the world of little people. Or don't I +make sense?" + +"I think I understand you, Matt." + +"Later I'll read you Tabio's speech. Or at least the high lights, in +English. You'll get a pretty good idea of the things I believe in." + +"What was it like on the other side, Matt? In the war, I mean. Or don't +you want to talk about the war?" + +It's now or never, he thought. Tell her about the war, tell it to her +straight. If she's ever going to see it, she's got to see it now. "I +don't like to talk about it," he said, "but I will. I guess I owe it to +you to talk about it. I was there when it started, and I kept hollering +that it had started, but no one would believe me." + +"In Poland?" + +"Hell, no! In Madrid. The summer of '36. I reached Madrid in the fourth +week of July, and by September I'd seen enough of the Nazis and the +Italians to know it was World War Two." The words came easily, the whole +fabric. Tabio had told the story as a historian. This was the other way +it could be told, the way of the eyewitness, of the partisan. He told +her everything, about the fighting in Spain and about the slaughter of +the innocents; about the grotesque ballets of death and disintegration +on the green tables of Geneva; about the arrows of Falange, reaching out +from the festers of Spain to the New World. Everything but the role of +Ansaldo. + +"Now," he said, "I think you can guess why I'm so bothered about this +war, why I sometimes act as if I have a very personal stake in it. +Please try to understand what I mean, Jerry." + +She was silent for a long moment. "I think I do," she said. "For the +past few days I've been thinking about the war. Ever since--oh, you know +since when. I've been thinking that if I don't do anything else, maybe +I'll join the Army as a nurse when we leave here." + +"You've got it bad, haven't you?" + +"I don't know what I've got, darling. All I know is that I don't have +the right to be a Me Firster any more. Do you think I'm right about +that?" + +"Baby, listen to me. You don't have to go to Bataan to get into the war. +It's spread everywhere. The front stretches from Murmansk to Manila to +San Hermano. And it's the same front." + +"But what can I do here?" + +Hall drew a deep breath. "Let's both have a cigarette," he said. "This +is going to take some telling." He sat up, faced the girl, took her +hands and held them firmly. "Now, what I'm going to say might sound +harsh, Jerry. But you'll simply have to believe me." + +"What is it, Matt?" + +"How much do you know about Dr. Ansaldo?" + +"Only that he's a nice guy. He's never made a pass at me, he behaves +like a gentleman, and he's one crack surgeon. Don't tell me he's no +good, Matt. I just won't believe it." + +"You'll have to believe me," Hall insisted. "What do you know about +Ansaldo's past? Do you know where he was during the Spanish War?" + +"I haven't the faintest idea. Do you know?" + +"Sure, I do. I saw him." Hall described his first meeting with Ansaldo. +As he spoke, Jerry abruptly withdrew her hands. Trembling, she backed +away from him, started to get up. + +"What's wrong?" he asked. + +"I wish you hadn't made love to me," she said, simply. "Now I feel +cheap--and used." + +"Don't say that. I ..." + +"You know it's true. You're not just another newspaperman. And you don't +give a damn about me. It was Ansaldo you were interested in from the +beginning. That's why you were on the same plane with us on the way +here. And that's why you ..." + +"You mean I'm a G-man? Don't be absurd." + +"Don't make it worse by calling me a fool. I liked you. I liked you a +lot. Don't make it worse now, Matt." + +"But you're dead wrong." He tried to put his arms around her. She shook +him off. "Believe me," he said, "I'm not government. You were right--but +only partially--about my original interest in your party. But tonight I +wish to hell it were only Ansaldo who interests me. It would make things +a lot easier all around. The other morning I was watching Marina when a +Spanish ship came in. Someone didn't want me to watch. I was drugged. +That's why I disappeared for a few days. It damn near finished me. I've +got something on Ansaldo--before I'm through I hope to have enough to +hang him. I mean it literally. I'm trying to have him fitted for the +same grave he thought I'd have. And it's going to be simple. What won't +be simple is convincing the authorities here that you were an innocent +bystander in the whole affair. Do you think I would talk to you this way +if things were as you suspect they are with me?" + +"I don't know what to think, Matt." + +"Don't stop liking me," he said. + +"Take me back to the hotel, please. I'm all confused. I want to believe +you. Honestly I do. But what am I supposed to do? You give me the choice +of matching one line against the other, and all the time I'll be +wondering if both lines aren't fakes." + +"Listen to me, baby ..." + +"Don't 'baby' me. You've got sand on your jacket. No, don't, Hall. Just +take me back to the hotel, please." + +They walked to the sea wall in silence. Hall made a step for Jerry with +his hands, boosted her to the top of the wall. "I'll try to find you a +cab," he said. "But before we turn in, I'm telling you again that I'm +not government. I'm exactly what I said I am. Believe me, Jerry. Please +believe me." + +"I don't know what to believe any more." + +"But you do believe what I said about Ansaldo, don't you?" + +"I don't know," she said, miserably. "Haven't you asked enough questions +for one night? Show me your badge and subpoena me or something to the +American Embassy and I'll tell you all I know. Which is nothing. I don't +know any more than I've already told you." + +Hall was flagging every passing car. "They're all private," he muttered. +"We'll never get a cab tonight. And for God's sake, stop sniffling. Even +if I am a G-man I won't bite you." + +"You shouldn't have played me for a sucker, Hall." + +"I didn't play you for anything." + +"Don't say any more, Hall. Please don't." + +Her attitude infuriated him. Furiously, he flagged a passing car, biting +his lips in anger and frustration. He fought against yielding to his +anger. "Jerry," he said, "there's one thing I'll have to ask you to do. +I'm asking as a private citizen. But whatever you think I am, you'll +have to do this one thing. I must insist that you don't tell Ansaldo +anything about our conversation or about my having been in Spain." + +"Is that an order?" + +"Yes," he roared. "Yes, damn you, it's an order!" + +One of the cars he had flagged slowed down, pulled over to where he +stood with Jerry. But it was not a taxi. It was a small chauffeur-driven +town car. The young Marques de Runa sat alone in the back seat. + +"Good evening," he smiled. "Can I give you and your young lady a lift? +You'll never be able to get a public car tonight." + +"Thanks." Hall took Jerry's elbow, pulled her toward the door. He made +the introductions, then climbed in after Jerry and shut the door. "We +were just going to the Bolivar," he said. + +"Were you trying to escape from the mobs?" the Marques asked. + +"No. The lady has a bad cold. We thought the sea air might do it some +good." + +"You should try the mountain air," the Marques said. "I always take to +the mountain air when I have a cold, Senor Hall. Don't you think the +mountain air is better?" + +Hall let the question go unanswered. He was looking into the mirror over +the driver's seat, studying what he could see in the small glass of the +chauffeur's face. + +"The mountain air, Senor Hall." + +"Oh, yes. Very dry. Perhaps the lady will try the mountain air. What do +you think, Jerry?" + +"No, thank you," she said, sharply. "I have hallucinations on mountain +tops." + +The Marques thought this was very funny. But not too unusual, he +hastened to add. "For example," he said, "once when I was on a skiing +week-end in Austria, three members of our party saw an apparition." He +chattered amiably about the experiences on that and other skiing trips, +directing his words solely to Jerry. Hall ignored them both. He was +still staring at the mirror, and, after catching the chauffeur's eyes +for the second time, he knew definitely that the man at the wheel was +the little dog who had trailed him to the Ritz and then driven off after +Ansaldo's limousine with Androtten as his passenger. + +It was only when the car was less than a block from the Bolivar that +Hall spoke again. "It's too bad," he said, his eyes trying to focus both +on the mirror and on de Runa, "it's too bad about the Phoenix Garage +blowing up today." + +The chauffeur and the Marques started. + +"But--why?" the Marques asked. + +"Oh, I don't know. It's just that an officer in the British Embassy was +telling me just the other day that the Phoenix Garage was one of the +most fascinating establishments in San Hermano. I was planning to visit +the garage myself tomorrow. I'm interested in garages, you know." + +The chauffeur stopped the car in front of the Bolivar with an abrupt +slamming of his brakes. + +Hall laughed. "Your chauffeur was daydreaming, I think." + +The Marques laughed, or tried to laugh, as if Hall had just made one of +the funniest remarks ever heard in San Hermano. "That's what he is," the +Marques laughed, "a man who dreams by day. Very good, Senor Hall. +Excellent." + +Hall got out of the car, helped Jerry to the street. "Thank you again +for picking us up," he said. "And do something about your driver before +he starts driving into people in his sleep." + +The car was in gear and on its way down the street before the Marques +could make his answer heard. + +"What was so funny about your crack?" Jerry asked. + +"I'll tell you tomorrow. Are we still friends?" + +"Stop it, Matt. Just leave me alone tonight." + +"Sure," he smiled. "Sleep on it. But please to keep the mouth shut, +yes?" + +"I'm going to my room, Matt." + +"May I phone you in the morning?" + +Jerry ran into the hotel without answering. Hall stood in the street for +a moment, watching the receding crowds in the Plaza. They started to +become a blur in his heavy eyes. He entered the lobby. Souza was going +over a bill with two guests. Hall nodded to the night clerk, then went +into the small bar of the Bolivar to have a drink while Souza got rid of +the strangers. + +Only one of the four tables in the bar room was occupied. Androtten and +a San Hermano coffee dealer sat at this table, three open copper +canisters between them. The Hollander was driving a hard bargain for two +types of Monte Azul bean. + +"Mr. Hall," he smiled, "delighted to see you healthy again. Delighted as +hell." + +"Healthy again?" + +"Damn rumors have been spread about the hotel that you were ill, Mr. +Hall. Not seriously as hell, I hope? Why don't you join us? Mr. +Rendueles has been trying to make a deal with me on some fairly choice +bean." + +Hall downed his double Scotch. "No, thanks. I'd better get some sleep." + +"Yes. You look sleepy, Mr. Hall. I wonder if we'll ever find time +for--you know--my damn story. Eh?" + +"One of these days," Hall said. "We'll get the complete story, +Androtten. All the facts, in complete detail. Good night." He paid for +his drink and went to the desk in the lobby. + +"Your key," Souza said. "I have it right here." + +"Thanks. What's new?" + +"Oh, nothing, senor. Nothing at all." Souza was being profoundly +impersonal. "I hope you are feeling better, senor. Oh, yes, message in +your box." + +The message was from Souza himself, and the ink was not yet dry. "I +can't speak now," it read. + +"Thank you. Good night." Hall put the message in his pocket and went to +his room. + +He flung himself across the bed, yielding to the fatigue that was +tearing at every nerve and muscle in his body. In the dark, he managed +to get rid of his shoes and his suit, letting them drop to the floor +when he had taken them off. He tried to think of all that had happened +that day, of what he would have to do tomorrow. The fading shouts of the +crowds in the Plaza grew fainter. The bed grew softer. He fell asleep. + +The phone bell woke him in a few minutes. Souza was calling. "Senor +Hall, the drinks you ordered are on the way upstairs," he said. "I am +sorry for the delay, but we have a new waiter, and he is not accustomed +to our system yet." + +"Oh, I get it." The _cabron_ of a night waiter was gone. The invisible, +detested _cabron_ whom Hall had never seen. He half expected Miguelito +or Juan Antonio to be standing in the hall when he heard the knock on +the door. Instead, there was a short, swarthy man in his forties, +balancing a tray of brandy and soda in his right hand, a professional +waiter down to his flat feet and his bland smile. + +"Shall I bring it in, senor?" + +"Please. Set it down here, on the little table." + +The waiter closed the door, put the tray down. "_Companero_ Hall," he +said, the bland smile gone, "permit me to introduce myself. I am Emilio +Vicente, delegate of the Waiters' Union." He shook Hall's hand, then +gave him a calling card. It was Major Segador's private card. + +"Turn it over, _Companero_ Hall." + +The short message on the reverse side indicated that Hall was to trust +Vicente. + +"I am happy to know you," Hall said. "Will you have a drink with me?" + +"Some other time, _companero_. Tonight I have a message. Major Segador +suggests that should you need any assistance in a hurry, you can call +upon me. I am at your orders." + +"Thank you." + +Emilio Vicente picked up his tray. "_Companero_," he said, "it might +seem a little dangerous, but the Major assured us that you do not lack +for _cojones_." + +"What?" + +"Good night, _Companero_ Hall. You look as if you could use some sleep." + + + + +_Chapter twelve_ + + +Hall slept through the morning. He rose at noon, staggered into a cold +tub, and then ordered a breakfast of steak and eggs. Vicente wheeled the +table into the room. + +"I have been thinking of the major's offer," Hall said. "There's +something you can do for me. Do you know anything about the Marques de +Runa?" + +"Yes. He's a Falangist. His family owns one of the biggest import and +export companies in the country. The young one works there, too." + +"What is he up to now?" + +"Perhaps we can find out." + +"Good. Do you know anything about his chauffeur?" + +"No. But we can find out." + +"Do you mind if I ask Pepe Delgado to check up too?" + +"Not at all, _companero_. He is very reliable." + + * * * * * + +San Hermano had settled back to her old routines when Hall left his +room. The trolleys ran, cars moved along all the streets, the loud +speakers on the poles and buildings had been taken down, and street +sweepers were groaning over the litter of signs and papers they +themselves had helped scatter over the whole city the day before. +Yesterday's crowds had gone back to their jobs, their homes, their own +quarters. + +The papers had little news about Tabio's condition. They carried his +speech and, in most cases, described the events which had followed +Tabio's speech as a spontaneous demonstration on the part of the people. +_El Imparcial_ merely said that a great crowd had heard the speech over +the public amplifiers and that Red hoodlums had severely beaten some +anti-communists who had joined the crowd in the Plaza to listen to the +address of the President. + +Hall scanned the papers at a cafe table in Old San Hermano while Pepe +went to telephone some friends who were doing some further checking on +the Marques de Runa. The information Pepe received over the telephone +was very brief. At six o'clock that morning, the Marques de Runa and his +chauffeur had taken a plane for Natal from the San Hermano airport. + +"Wait for me in the car." Hall went to a phone himself, called Margaret +Skidmore. + +"Hi, Pirate," she said. "Getting lonesome for the farm?" + +"Sure. How about you?" + +"I can't get away this week," she said. "How about the week-end?" + +"I'll have to let you know tomorrow. Tell me, Margaret, how well do you +know the Marques de Runa?" + +"Very well. Why?" + +"Oh, nothing much. I left my notebook in his car last night, I think." + +"I know. He told me." + +"About the notebook?" + +"No. About your red-headed girl friend. She sounds like a good +substitute for farming." + +"Cut it out," Hall laughed. + +"Is she the gal you were dreaming about at the wrong time one day last +week?" + +"No. But about my notebook. It's not too important, but I had some +interesting things in it, Margaret. I was wondering how to reach the +Marques." + +"It would be impossible today," she said. "He just left for Barcelona on +a business trip." + +"Is he a good friend of yours?" + +"Freddie? He's my fiance." + +"You're kidding!" + +"No. I'm to be the Marquesa de Runa. Didn't you know?" + +"Does anyone else know it?" + +"Yes," she said. "He does. Now don't start cross-examining me about +that! It's my affair." + +"I won't. You always know what you're doing." + +"Thanks. I feel like doing some plowing over the week-end. With you. +Let's talk about it then, if it still interests you. And in the +meanwhile, I'll have someone look through the car for your notebook." + +"Thanks a lot." + +Hall went to the car. "Let's go back to the hotel," he said, "and find +Souza. Or is the day clerk reliable?" + +"Don't worry," Pepe said. "Arturo can be trusted. That's why Souza got +him the job." + +"We have a lot to do, Pepe. I want to search the room of the Dutchman, +Androtten. We'll need all the help we can get." + +They found the task very simple. Androtten had left that morning with a +small handbag on what he described to the clerk as a two-day buying trip +in the south. With the day clerk standing guard at the phone and Vicente +lounging in the hall to sound any needed alarm, Hall and Pepe entered +the Dutchman's room with a pass key and drew the blinds. + +There was a picture of Androtten and what was evidently his family in a +portable leather frame on the bureau. It showed Androtten and a fat +blond matron sitting at a table, with a youth in his teens at +Androtten's left and a little girl leaning at the woman's knee. "He's a +family man," Pepe said. + +"We'll see." Hall went through the wastebasket, the clothes hanging in +the closet, every drawer in the bureau. He examined every piece of +luggage for false sides and bottoms, hidden compartments, and stray +papers. In the traveling bag he found in the closet, Hall discovered a +heavy brown envelope. Inside was the picture of a young colonial +Netherlands officer and a letter from the Dutch Government-in-Exile. The +letter regretted to inform Androtten that his esteemed son, Lieutenant +Wilhelm Androtten II, had perished fighting the Nazi invaders in the +battle for the Lowlands, and had been posthumously awarded the second +highest decoration the Queen gave such heroes. Hall had to guess at the +contents of the letter, using his German as a basis for deciphering the +Dutch. + +"Does this look like that boy grown up?" he asked Pepe. + +"I think so, Mateo. What does the letter say?" + +Hall gave him the gist of the letter as he understood it. "But I still +think he's a fraud, Pepe. Let's examine the labels on his clothes +again." + +The labels revealed only what Androtten had already indicated. London, +Amsterdam, New Orleans, Rio. He had purchased no clothes in San Hermano. + +"Let's get out of here, Pepe." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"I've got to write a letter in my room. But wait for me. I think we're +going to visit Duarte when I've got the letter finished." + +His own room, he soon discovered, had also been searched that day. The +lock on his traveling bag had been picked, and the stethoscope was +missing. He flung the new straw hat in the closet and went to the lobby. +Pepe was talking to the day clerk. He grinned at Hall, asked, "So soon?" + +"I changed my mind." Then, to the clerk, "Where is Miss Olmstead? At the +University laboratory?" + +"No, senor. She went to the country with the two doctors." + +"Do you know where exactly?" + +"No. Only that she went to the country. They will not be back tonight. +They left an hour ago." + +"Come on, Pepe. We have to get started." + +They sat down in the car. "First stop the Mexican Embassy," Hall said. +"But wait there for me. I won't be too long." + +"What happened?" + +"My room was searched. The stethoscope is missing." + +"That means trouble, Mateo." + +"Sure. It also means that someone was careless. Where the hell were +Arturo and Vicente?" + +"It's a big hotel, Mateo. We were talking about it only this morning. +Duarte wants you to stay with him in his house for the night." + +"What do you think about it?" + +"Duarte is right." + +"But I have a good gun, Pepe. And good friends." + +"I know that, Mateo. But stay with Duarte tonight. I think that tonight +someone else should sleep in your bed. Duarte suggested three pillows or +a log. Then, in the morning, if there are no bullet holes in the +pillows ..." + +"Or the log ..." + +"... or the log, then you can say it was a mistake to sleep at Duarte's +house tonight. Someone followed me this morning, Mateo. I drove him +crazy, but I couldn't get a look at him myself. It was very funny. But +it is also serious." + +Hall put the gun back in his pocket. "Maybe it is," he said. "I'll stay +with Duarte." + +"It is the right thing to do, Mateo. I'll leave you with Duarte. I have +to see Souza and some other friends tonight." + +Pepe waited at the curb until Hall was admitted to the Mexican Embassy. +Then, his eyes sweeping the streets for signs of anyone shadowing him on +foot or by automobile, he took the most roundabout route he could devise +to reach the Transport Workers' Union headquarters. + +Duarte had had no word from General Mogrado. "I'm sure he met the +courier," he told Hall. "But I'm worried by his silence. It is not like +him." + +"Give him another night, Felipe. In the meanwhile, I'll send another +letter to Havana. I just can't believe that the evidence on Ansaldo is +not available on this side of the ocean. If it's nowhere else, it must +be in Havana." + +"Why are you so sure?" + +"Because I know Havana. I know what the Spanish Republicans and the +secret police must have there. I tell you, Felipe, we can hang Ansaldo +in Havana. Do you remember where and how I first saw Ansaldo in Burgos? +Well, there was a photographer standing and working in front of me for +hours that day. I know who he was, Felipe. He was the man from _Arriba_. +I don't doubt but that either the Spaniards or the Cubans have a +complete file of _Arriba_ in Havana. And I'm willing to bet my bottom +dollar that I'll find those pictures of Ansaldo in that file." + +"I hope so, Mateo. But I hope you don't have to go. Are you very tired?" + +"I could stand an hour's sleep before dinner." + +"We'll go to the house. Dr. Gonzales might join us for dinner. And +Lavandero is going to try to join us after dinner." + +They went to Duarte's house in one of the Embassy's cars. Hall stretched +out on the couch under the mural of Madrid and fell asleep in a few +minutes. It was some while before he was rested enough to dream, and +then the figures in the mural above the couch began to move through his +sleep in a macabre procession. + +Duarte woke him in an hour. "Twice you yelled in your sleep," he said. +"And then you started to twist like a chained snake. Bad dreams, Mateo?" + +"I guess so," Hall said, his fingers working the muscles at the back of +his neck. "I always dream about the bombardments when I feel bad." + +"Gonzales and Lavandero can't meet us tonight. They're both at the +Presidencia. I think Tabio is getting weaker." + +"Is that what they told you?" + +"No. They just said they couldn't meet us." + +"Too bad. What have you got cooking?" + +"I don't know, _amigo_. I hired a new cook and she won't allow me to put +my face in the kitchen." + +"She must be a smart cook." + +"We'll find out in a few minutes. I forgot to tell you, but Gonzales had +some news for us tonight. He says that Gamburdo is planning to delay the +actual start of Congress for another week. His game is to allow the +present high feelings of the people to cool down a bit before the +Congress starts its business." + +Hall was puzzled. "I don't quite understand the maneuver," he said. + +"The Congress has to choose a delegation for the Inter-American parley, +and to compose its mandate. Gamburdo still wants a delegation committed +to neutrality." + +"Can he get away with it?" + +"Who knows? He was a long way toward success when Don Anibal stopped +him. The real question is how long can Don Anibal be counted on to get +out of bed and fight for an anti-fascist war policy?" + +A soft rain had started to fall while Hall was sleeping. It splashed +gently against the open shutters of the cottage, embracing the house, +the palms and the papaya trees on the grounds, its soft rhythms throwing +Hall into a small boy's melancholy. He talked little during dinner, and +when he did, it was to subject Duarte to his reminiscences of rainy days +when he was very young. + +They swapped yarns for hours, listened to Duarte's endless collection of +Mexican and flamenco records, and killed a bottle of black rum. + +"I'm going to sleep until noon," Hall said when they quit for the night. + +But his sleep was cut short very early in the morning by Pepe, who +arrived with the news that Jerry had returned from the country late at +night and was trying desperately to contact Hall. + +He phoned her at once. + +"Matt," she said, "can you come over right away? I think that I owe you +an apology." + +Jerry was waiting for him in her room. She had not had any sleep for a +full night, and her eyes showed it. Hall noticed that the two ash trays +in the room were filled to the rims with fresh cigarette stumps. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"I'm out of cigarettes. Have you got any?" + +"Only Cubans. They're very strong." + +She accepted one, choked a bit on the first puff, then continued +smoking. + +"Give," he said. "What happened?" + +"You were right, I think. I can't swear to it, but I'm sure I recognized +his voice. The little Dutchman, I mean." + +"Androtten?" + +She nodded. "He was at the ranch. I'm certain of it." + +"Wait a minute, baby. Sit down. Relax. Now start from the beginning. +What ranch?" + +"Oh, I thought you knew. I went to Gamburdo's brother's ranch with +Ansaldo and Marina. Doctor was ripping mad. There was entirely too much +interference in the Tabio case, he said, and he'd called for a showdown. +He said he was going to stay on the ranch for a few days, or at least +until the politicians who were interfering with him would come to their +senses. He said we'd all just take a holiday until we could go back to +work." + +"Who else was at the ranch?" + +"Gamburdo's brother, two men I've never seen before, and our hostess." + +"Were you introduced to the two men?" + +"No, that's just it. They were not there when we arrived. They came on +horseback after we'd been there for some hours. Senora Gamburdo said +they were merely neighbors who wanted to talk over a cattle deal with +her husband." + +"And what makes you think she was lying?" + +"I can't say, exactly, Matt. I didn't like the way she explained them to +me--it was as if she felt that I insisted upon an explanation. That was +when I decided to tell Ansaldo that I wanted to come back to town this +morning. I told him there was some shopping I'd neglected. He didn't +seem to object at the time." + +"When did Androtten arrive?" + +"I don't know. I told you--I didn't see him. I just heard his voice. It +was about five in the afternoon, I'd say. I was taking a dip in the +pool--alone. There was a puppy playing around the pool. He found one of +my red beach shoes and started to chew on it. Then he took the shoe in +his mouth and carried it over to the side of the house and left it near +a hedge. + +"It was when I went for the shoe that I heard Androtten. Some sort of a +conference was going on in the room above the spot where the pooch had +dropped my shoe. I recognized the voices of Ansaldo and Marina and the +two others. But most of the talking was being done by a new voice. I +thought I recognized it. Then he stopped speaking Spanish and switched +to German. I'm sure it was German." + +"What was he saying?" + +"I couldn't make it out. But he was very angry." + +"And it was Androtten?" + +"Definitely." + +"Could you see into the room?" + +"No. I didn't try, anyway. I was afraid. I just picked up my shoe and +beat it." + +Hall hesitated. He gave Jerry a fresh cigarette, lit it for her. "Could +they have seen you?" he asked. + +She shook her head. "But that's not the end of it," she said. "After +dinner, Ansaldo took me for a walk in the garden. He made a lot of small +talk about different cases. Then he asked me why I insisted upon +returning to town. I told him again that I wanted to buy some things to +take home for friends. He was very pleasant about it. He asked me, +half-seriously, if the real reason I wanted to go back was because I had +a date with you. He was acting the part of a jealous lover when he said +it." + +"Acting?" + +"I'm sure he was only acting. Because when he said that I just laughed +and said, 'Good heavens, no, doctor! The last time I saw Hall he said he +was going to make a small fortune writing the story of that little +Dutchman's experience with the Japs, and my guess is that he'll be +spending the next few days locked up in his room with the Dutchman.' + +"Ansaldo stopped dead in his tracks when I said that, Matt. He asked me +which Dutchman I mean--but only after he had caught his breath." + +"What did he say when you told him you meant Androtten?" + +"Nothing much. He made a joke--a bad one--about Flying Dutchmen. And +then he continued talking about medical cases." + +"And that was the last you saw of him?" + +"Just about. My train left at five-thirty this morning. He was asleep +when I left." + +"Who drove you to the station?" + +"Marina and a ranch hand. Marina was glad to see me go. He hates to see +me around Ansaldo." + +"Why? Is Ansaldo also a fairy?" + +"God, no!" Jerry laughed. "He's anything but." + +"You're exhausted. Let me get you some breakfast," he said. "And then, +when you catch your second wind, maybe you'll remember some other +details." + +"I'm sure I've told you everything, Matt." + +He picked up the phone, asked for Vicente. "Ham and eggs?" he asked +Jerry. + +"No. Just coffee and toast." + +Hall gave Vicente the order. "And one other thing," he told the waiter. +"The woman is in trouble. Some one will have to keep an eye on her +today. And let me know when the fat little foreigner on this floor +returns to town. He is a dangerous enemy." + +"All those words for coffee and toast?" Jerry asked. "I've learned a few +words, Matt. I know that _mujer_ is woman." + +"Good for you. I was asking him about his wife. She's been ill." + +"Oh." Jerry relaxed in her chair. "Tell me, Matt. What was it all about +at the ranch? There was something wrong there. I know. Why should +Ansaldo have wanted me around? And who is Androtten?" + +"That's a big order, baby. There's only one thing I definitely know +about it. I know that Ansaldo is a hot shot in the Falange. I know that +two Falange agents arrived in San Hermano on board a Spanish ship the +other day, and that they were traced to the ranch. But I can only guess +that the two neighboring _estancieros_ you saw were these two visiting +Falange agents." + +"And Androtten?" + +"Again I'm guessing. I know that a Nazi general named Wilhelm von Faupel +is the man who actually runs the Falange. I know something about the way +the Nazis work. O.K. So I assume that Androtten--if it really was +Androtten whose voice you heard--is a Gestapo agent. That would make +sense. Hitler orders Tabio's death; the job is handed to Hitler's +Falange, and a Gestapo officer tags along to run the show in San Hermano +as his comrades run it in Spain. It would all make sense if we could +prove that the two visiting _estancieros_ were the Falange agents off +the _Marques de Avillar_, and that Androtten was the man you heard." + +"Then why should they have wanted me around?" Jerry asked. + +There was a gentle rap on the door. "Time out for coffee," Hall smiled. +"_Entrada!_" + +The door was unlocked. The handle turned, and Wilhelm Androtten entered. +He took off his small Panama hat, fanned his red, puffy face with it. +"Ah," he sighed, "they told me at the desk that I would find you here, +Mr. Hall. Hot as hell, isn't it?" He put a large coffee canister on the +arm of a chair. "May I sit down?" he asked. + +"Of course." Hall glanced at Jerry, whose fingers were clenched tightly +on a large amber comb. "What can I do for you?" + +Androtten put the canister on his lap. "Oh, my dear Mr. Hall," he +sighed, his pudgy right hand resting on the lid of his tin. "I just +wanted to tell you that I am leaving for Rio on an extended buying trip +tomorrow. If you still are interested in my damn story, perhaps you +could spare me some time this afternoon, eh?" + +"I think it could be managed," Hall smiled. "Did you buy all the damn +Monte Azul bean you wanted, sir?" + +"Oh, yes. Oh, yes indeed, Mr. Hall. Fine, rich, full-bodied bean, +fragrant as hell. Please, I'll show you." Androtten opened the canister. +There was no coffee under the lid. Instead, there was a small automatic +pistol, equipped with a gleaming silencer. + +"Please," Androtten sighed, "no noise, please. I should hate to be +forced to shoot you both." + +Jerry stifled a muted cry. "You wouldn't dare," Hall said. + +"You are a fool, Hall. I hope you have already noticed that my gun is +equipped with the only silencer in this jungle of Indians and +blackamoors." + +"The Gestapo--you Nazis think of everything, don't you?" Hall said in a +rising voice. + +"I must remind you again not to shout, Hall. Please, lock your hands on +top of your head." + +Hall obeyed the order. + +"If the nurse co-operates, she will be spared." + +"For God's sake, Jerry, do anything the Nazi orders," Hall cried. "He +has a gun!" + +The little man with the gun angrily raised a finger to his lips. "Not +one word out of you," he whispered. He got out of the chair, started +backing toward the door. "Now," he said, "listen carefully, both of you. +For your information, Hall, I am not Gestapo. I am from the +Ibero-American Institute in Berlin. And that, I am afraid, is the last +information you will ever receive about anything, Hall." + +The comb in Jerry's hand snapped with a dry little crack. The sudden +noise startled Androtten. He raised the gun and fired just as Hall dove +for his feet. Three times the cough of a silenced gun sounded in the +room. The shots seemed to come all together. A split second after the +third shot was fired Hall had kicked the gun from the limp hand of the +Nazi and was sitting astride his chest with his hands locked on +Androtten's throat. He was oblivious to the noise at the balcony, to +Jerry, to everything but the man dying under him. + +A gentle hand tugged at Hall's shoulder. "Enough, Mateo. The _cabron_ is +dead." + +Emilio Vicente had climbed into the room from the balcony. He had a +pistol in his hand. "The woman," he said. "She has fainted." + +Jerry was lying in a heap on the floor near her chair. "Christ, she was +hit!" Hall rushed to her side, examined her for bullet wounds. + +"No, Mateo. His bullet sailed over my head. My bullets both hit him. I +aimed for the heart. See, you are covered with his blood, no?" + +"Water." Hall was sitting on the floor, Jerry's head in his lap, a hand +clasped firmly over her mouth. He dipped a handkerchief into the glass +Vicente gave him, ran it over her face. "Jerry," he whispered, "promise +me you won't yell if I take my hand away? Everything is all right. His +shot missed us both, and now he's under control." + +She nodded. "I'm sorry I passed out," she said. + +"You're O.K. now." + +Vicente, standing over them, grinned at the girl. "_Si_, you +_magnifica_," he said. "You make boom noise of comb. She"--he pointed to +Androtten, who lay under a blanket Vicente had found while Hall was +reviving Jerry--"she have much scare of boom, she shoot much badly. Me, +Emilio, shoot much good. She no good no more." + +"Is he dead? _Muerto?_" + +"Much dead." Vicente showed them his pistol. He pointed to his own +silencer. "I heard the son of a whore mother," he said to Hall, a +sardonic smile on his grim face. "When he gets to hell he will learn +that there were other silencers in this jungle." + +"You heard everything?" + +"But naturally, _companero_. I followed him to the door and listened. +When you shouted to the woman that the Nazi had a gun, I knew you were +shouting for me. I have a gun, too. And a pass key. So I rushed into the +next room and climbed over to the balcony. It was not difficult." + +"You were very good. You saved our lives." + +"It is nothing." + +"I can get up, Matt," Jerry said. "I'd rather sit in the chair." + +Hall helped her to the chair, told her what Vicente had done. Vicente +laughed at Hall's account of his heroism. "It was nothing," he repeated. +"The Nazi was too fat to miss." + +"He's very messy," Hall said, looking at the blanket. + +"What are you going to do with the body?" Hall asked Vicente. + +"Feed it to the sharks." + +"Better fingerprint him and make photos of the face, first," Hall +advised. "And let Segador know immediately." + +"Be tranquil, _companero_. All in good time. When you and the woman +leave, Pepe and I shall put the remains of this dog in a laundry basket +and get it out of here." Vicente looked at Jerry. "And I think you had +better get her out of this room. She is going to get sick if she stays +here." + +"You're right." Hall gave Jerry his hand. "Come on, nurse," he smiled. +"We're going to my room. This is no place for a lady." He helped her to +her feet. + +She held her hand out to Vicente. "You are very sweet," she said. +"_Usted mucho dulce._ Understand?" + +"Understand," he laughed. He kissed her hand. + +Hall had a bottle of brandy in his room. He poured two stiff drinks for +Jerry and himself. "Feel any better?" he asked. + +"It was awful for a few minutes. I was afraid he would kill you." + +"So was I, baby. I was afraid he'd kill me before I ever got around to +telling you how I felt. About you, I mean." + +"How do you feel about me?" + +He filled the glasses again. "Still think I'm a cop?" + +"I don't care. I guess you aren't, though." + +"Right." + +"I'd have died if he killed you. I love you, Matt." + +She was sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood over her, took the +glass from her hand. "You know how I feel, then," he smiled. + +"Darling," she said, raising her face, "didn't you think that I knew?" + +"Wait," he laughed. "I'm filthy with his blood. I'd better change my +clothes." + +He found a fresh suit and a clean shirt in his closet. "I'll change in +there," he said. + +"Darling," she said, while he was changing, "I still can't figure out +why Ansaldo wanted me at the ranch." + +"I think I can, baby. It's not so hard. Figure it out for yourself. The +beautiful American nurse is a complete political innocent. Sees all, +knows nothing. A perfect set-up. The Falangist doctors take you along to +San Hermano. You sit in the sickroom while Ansaldo examines Tabio. You +yourself work on the smears and the slides in the laboratory. You are +the clean, unbiased witness who can testify that scientifically all was +on the up and up. Your existence is proof that Ansaldo's visit was +legitimate. If anything was shady, he'd bring a Falangist nurse." + +"But why was I brought to the ranch?" + +"Same reasoning. Lavandero blocks Ansaldo's plans. Meanwhile, the +Falange sends two agents from Spain with the latest orders for Ansaldo. +He has to sneak out of town to confer with them. So does Androtten, the +Nazi boss of the expedition. Again Ansaldo takes the unbiased, +non-political nurse along. She is still the witness. She sees nothing +wrong at the ranch, and, after Ansaldo puts Tabio in the grave, if +anyone starts to suspect anything, they question the obviously innocent +American nurse and she backs Ansaldo's story. She really hasn't seen a +thing." + +"That is," Jerry said, "until the dumb American nurse stood under the +wrong window and heard Joe Nazi himself." + +"Exactly." + +"Then you think they know that I heard Androtten?" + +"I can't say. But just to play safe, you're moving out of this hotel to +where they can't find you. And right away. Not that they're not +prepared. Remember, you didn't _see_ Androtten. They know that much. By +now you can bet your bottom dollar that they have a coffee planter three +hundred miles from the Gamburdo ranch who will swear on a stack of +Bibles that Androtten was with him for the past three days, and a whole +slew of witnesses to back him up." + +"But won't it make them suspicious if I move?" + +"The hell with them, baby. It's you that counts now." + +"Then I'm staying. I won't spoil it for you by playing into their +hands." + +Hall took her in his arms. "You're wonderful," he said. "But ..." + +The phone began to ring. It was Dr. Gonzales. "Can you come over to the +Presidencia at once?" he asked. "Yes, very important. I am in Don +Anibal's apartment. Please, hurry." + +"I'll be right over." + +"What is it, Matt?" + +"Come on. We're going to the Presidencia. It sounds like the end." + + + + +_Chapter thirteen_ + + +The private elevator in the Presidencia was both carpeted and +bullet-proof, as it had been in General Segura's day. But the +magnificent bronze friezes of General Segura's capture of San Hermano +had long since been melted down to make medals, and in place of the +martial friezes there now hung a series of water colors painted by +grade-school children in the small villages. Every year, Hall explained +to Jerry as the car climbed to the fourth floor, a committee of the +Republic's leading artists chose twenty water colors submitted by the +schools for a place in this elevator. The students whose pictures were +chosen received medals made from the bronze frieze which had originally +hung in their places. + +Gonzales was waiting for them at the fourth-floor landing. "Are you all +right?" he asked Jerry, and without waiting for an answer he took Hall's +arm and started to walk down the long gilded corridor toward the private +library of the President. + +The library was large, perhaps forty feet square, the four walls were +lined with books from floor to ceiling. In one corner was an immense +mahogany writing table, clean now except for a drinking glass packed +with sharpened pencils and a large yellow foolscap pad. When Tabio was +well, this table was always piled high with books, most of them opened +and kept in place by an inkwell, a heavy watch, or another book. Today +there were no books on Don Anibal's table; instead, almost as if in +explanation, a padded steel and aluminum wheel chair stood empty near +the little corridor which led to the door of the President's bedroom. + +"Please, sit down." Gonzales indicated two leather chairs. + +"I'm in the way," Jerry said. "I don't belong here." + +"I had to take her along," Hall said. "It was a matter of her life. Is +there some place where she can rest while we--while we talk?" + +"Excuse me. I will make the arrangement." Gonzales stepped out of the +room. + +"What's happening?" Jerry asked. + +"I don't know. It looks bad. Whatever it is, don't cave in on me now. It +won't do anyone any good." + +"I'm all right now. But I'll probably have nightmares about today for +the rest of my life." + +Gonzales returned to the library with a middle-aged maid in a simple +uniform. "Please, nurse," he said, "this lady will escort you to a quiet +apartment. You will find brandy and a bed. I hope you will forgive us +and find comfort." His blue lips tried to smile at Jerry as she followed +the maid out of the library. + +"You're not well," Hall said. + +The blue lips tightened. "I'm a cardiac, you know. But it is not of +importance. Simon Tabio will join us in a moment. It is very serious, +_companero_." + +"Don Anibal?" + +"Yes. Simon will tell you about the new development. He is young, but he +is very strong. He knows that Gamburdo is a traitor." + +"Has he told Don Anibal?" + +"The mere telling might kill him. We must have the proof before we tell +him." + +"The proof?" Hall started to tell the ailing doctor about Androtten when +Simon Tabio entered the library. + +"Ah, Simon. This is _Companero_ Mateo Hall." + +"How do you do?" the boy said, in English. "I regret that we must meet +under such sad circumstances." + +"_El habla castellano, chico_," Gonzales said. + +"The sorrow weighs with equal weight in my own heart," Hall said. + +"_Companero_ Hall was on the point of telling me some important news +when you came in, Simon. I think you should hear it." + +"I would like to hear it," Simon said. + +"Do you know about Corbeta the Falange agent and Jimenez the C.T.E. +radio operator being at the Gamburdo ranch with Ansaldo?" + +"Yes. Segador has kept me informed." + +"There was one other man at the ranch with them, a Nazi. An agent of the +Ibero-American Institute named Androtten. At least that was the name he +used. He reached San Hermano on the same plane which brought Ansaldo and +me." Hall told them of Jerry's accidental discovery and of the events +which followed and brought about the death of the Nazi. He told it in +very few words, his eyes taking in the uncanny resemblance between Simon +and his father. + +"My father is very ill, senor. We must be able to prove your story for +him." + +"He is my friend," Hall said. "He will believe me." + +"He is very ill. I believe you, of course. But what proof have we for my +father that Androtten was a Nazi agent? If you know my father at all +well, senor, you must surely know his passion for the truth. And we must +remember that in his illness ..." The boy's voice trailed off to +nothingness, and he turned away from his elders. + +"I think," Gonzales said, gently, "I think that you had better tell +_Companero_ Hall about what happened this morning." + +Simon Bolivar Tabio dabbed at his reddened eyes with a white +handkerchief. "They are killing him," he said, brokenly. He paused to +swallow the painful lump in his throat, ashamed before the friends of +his father for his weakness. + +"There are many tears in San Hermano for Don Anibal," Hall said. "You +should be proud of your own." + +"This morning," Simon said, "Dr. Marina arrived here with a written +message for my mother from Dr. Ansaldo. The surgeon refused to operate +without the written permission of the entire Cabinet. He says in the +note that he refuses to predict how long my father can live without an +operation. He says that the operation must be performed immediately." + +"It is murder," Gonzales said. "Every doctor in San Hermano who has +examined Don Anibal swears that he is too weak to undergo an operation +right now." + +"He sent a copy of the note to each member of the Cabinet," Simon said. +"They refuse to discuss the question without my father's permission." + +"The dirty bastard," Hall said. + +"We were discussing you this morning," Gonzales said. "Lavandero and +Simon and myself. We think that if we get no further actual proof, we +will have to place a great burden on your shoulders, _Companero_ Hall. +Don Anibal trusts you." + +"Do you want me to tell Don Anibal what I know?" + +"Not immediately. It would be too great a shock. Don Anibal would demand +proof even from you. But if he hears from you that you are here to +investigate the Falange and then if, say tomorrow, you come back +and tell him that you have run across some important information, +perhaps ..." + +"But have we time to break it to him in easy stages? Is +his--health--adequate?" + +"It is a chance we are forced to take," Simon said. "My father's health +is not--adequate--for a sudden shock." + +"You may be right. I have already notified Segador about Androtten. +Perhaps by tomorrow he will have established Androtten's real identity." + +"Then you will see my father now?" + +"I will do anything you ask, _companero_." + +"Excuse me, then." Simon left the library. + +"Don Anibal is not going to live," Gonzales said when the boy left. "Not +even a miracle can save his life." + +The doctor was tearing the stopper from a small vial of adrenalin. He +held the open mouth of the vial to his nose and breathed deeply. + +"Adrenalin?" Hall asked. + +"It is nothing, _companero_. Say nothing to Simon, please." A corner of +his blue underlip was growing purple in tiny spots. "I hear him now, +Mateo." + +The boy carried his shoulders proudly when he returned to the library. +"My father is sitting up in bed," he said. "He is preparing a radio +speech to the entire Republic." + +Dr. Gonzales was incredulous. "Are you sure, _chico_?" + +Simon touched his right eye with his index finger. "I have seen it at +this moment. My father is a great and a brave man. He says that we +should bring _Companero_ Hall in at once." + +The door leading to Tabio's room was opened by an armed army sergeant. +"The President will see you now," he said. + +Hall followed Simon and Gonzales through the small corridor which took +them to the sick room. The shutters were opened, and the sun streamed +into the chamber, bathing everyone and everything in its gentle light. +Anibal Tabio was sitting up in bed, his hand raised in a familiar +gesture as he dictated to a secretary who sat on a stool near his +pillows. + +"Neutrality," he was dictating, "neutrality is either abject surrender +to Hitler or an open admission of complicity with the fascist Axis or a +sinful combination of both..." + +The swarthy Esteban Lavandero was, as always, at Tabio's side, his +fierce Moorish face twisted with pain and love. He stood behind the girl +secretary, one black hairy hand resting on the carved headboard of the +ancient bed, his ears cocked for every word which came from Tabio's pale +lips. + +Tabio's wife and two doctors in white coats stood on the other side of +the bed. The prim white collar of her dark dress matched the streaks of +white in her long black hair. Her luminous _mestiza's_ eyes, swollen +from quiet weeping, were now bright and clear, and when Anibal Tabio +looked to his wife after turning a particularly telling phrase in his +speech her generous lips parted and she smiled at him the way she had +smiled to reward his earliest writings three decades ago. + +"The great North American martyr to freedom, Don Abraham Lincoln, a man +of great dignity whose humor was the humor of the people from whose +loins he sprang, was a man who many years ago described such neutrality. +Lincoln was not a neutral in the struggle between slavery and freedom. +And when some fool insisted that most Americans were neutral in this +struggle, Lincoln replied with the anecdote of the American woman who +went for a walk in the woods and found her husband fighting with a wild +bear. Being a neutral, this woman stood by and shouted, 'Bravo, Husband. +Bravo, Bear.' + +"And then, Lincoln said ..." + +"Don Anibal," one of the doctors said, gently, "I must implore you ..." +The restraining hand of Tabio's wife made him stop. + +"It is no use, doctor," Tabio smiled. "At a time like this, if a +President can speak at all, he must speak to his people. Tonight you +will type my speech, and tomorrow you can bring the microphone right +into this room, and right from my bed I shall talk to the people. If I +am to die in any event, it will not matter much. And if I am to live, +doctor, the speech will not kill me." + +Simon, who was standing next to Hall in the doorway, whispered that +Tabio's eyes were too weak to distinguish them at that distance. They +started to walk toward the bed on their toes, and Hall, glancing at +Tabio sitting up in the old bed in a white hospital gown surrounded by +the burly Lavandero and his wife and son, was suddenly struck by the +similarity of the scene which was before him and the Dore engraving of +the death of Don Quixote. It was all there, even to the faithful Sancho +Panza figure of Lavandero, and at that moment Hall knew why Spanish +savants had for hundreds of years written scores of books on the true +significance of Cervantes' classic. Here were the two great impulses of +the Hispanic world, the fragile, gentle, trusting dreamer of great new +horizons and at his side the broad-backed practical man of earth who +threw his strength into the effort of implementing the dreams and making +them the new realities. Here was the visionary Juarez and the young +soldier Porfirio Diaz, when the warrior was still a man untainted by his +own betrayal of a people's dream. Here was the romantic poet Jose Marti +and one of his durable guerrilla generals, Maximo Gomez or Antonio +Maceo, whose white and black skins, blended, would have yielded a skin +the color of Lavandero's. (Was it any wonder, then, Hall thought in +those fleeting seconds before Tabio recognized him, that Tabio as a +young exile went to Cuba to write a biography of Marti while his +faithful fellow-exile spent the same months in Havana writing an equally +good study of Maceo?) + +At that moment Tabio saw Hall. "_Viejo!_" he said, happily. "Mateo Hall, +a good friend and thank God never a neutral. Senorita, give him your +stool. Come, sit down, Mateo." + +Hall took his hand, tenderly, for fear of hurting him. It was a thin +hand, bony and fleshless; cold, as though Death had already touched it. + +"_Viejo_," Tabio said. He might have been genially scolding a favorite +child. "Say something, old friend, and don't sit there staring at me as +if I were already a corpse. Tell me about yourself, Mateo. We've come a +long way since Geneva and Madrid and the day they fished you out of the +ocean, eh?" + +"It has been a long time," Hall said. "A very long time, Don Anibal. A +century." + +Tabio smiled. "Time is of no matter. It is the present and the future +which counts, eh, _viejo_?" + +"Of course, _ilustre_." + +"My family and my good friends are afraid that I am dying," Tabio said, +smiling as if at some secret joke he wanted to share with Hall. "I am an +old dog. An old prison dog. Tell them, _viejo_, tell them that our breed +doesn't die so easily, no?" + +Hall could only nod and pat the sick man's hand. + +"Do I sound like a dying man?" + +Hall swallowed hard, managed to grin. "You? What nonsense, Don Anibal! I +was at the Congress the other day. I watched you and listened to you +speak. It was a great speech, Anibal." + +"It was not a great speech. But it was good because I spoke the truth. +And do you know, Mateo, that the truth is better than any great speech?" +Tabio was breathing with increased difficulty. He slumped back against +the pillows, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the doctors +quicken, and he turned to them and winked. "Not yet," he smiled. Meekly, +he allowed one of the doctors to hold a tumbler of colored liquid under +his mouth. He sipped some of it through a bent glass tube, then turned +to Hall again. + +"Where were you sitting?" he asked. + +"In the diplomatic box with Duarte and the Mexican Ambassador. Don't try +to talk to me, Anibal. Save your strength. I'll be here for a long time, +and when you're out of bed and on your feet again, perhaps we can have a +real visit and sit up all night talking as we used to talk." + +"Mateo! You talk like a child. I will never be on my feet again. But +just the same," and he winked impishly at his wife, "I'm a long way from +dying." + +"Of course you are," Hall insisted. + +"There, you see?" Tabio said to everyone in the room. "Mateo can tell +you. He knows how tough our breed is. Tell me, Mateo, is it true that +the American Ambassador considers me to be the most violent Bolshevik +outside of Russia?" + +Lavandero laughed, and Hall laughed, and when Tabio, laughing, turned to +his wife and son, they laughed too. + +"He is such a pompous fool, that Ambassador. Oh, I am being terribly +undiplomatic, _viejo_, but to think of an old-fashioned bourgeois +reformer like me being compared to Lenin and Stalin! It is the height of +confusion. But if you ever meet him you can tell him that I admire +Stalin and the Russian people. Your Ambassador and I were together at a +State dinner the day the Nazis invaded Russia and he said that the +Soviets would be crushed in a month and that he was glad. I told him +then that the Red Army would destroy the Nazi war machine and I told him +that before the war was over the United States would be fighting on the +side of Russia and that therefore it was dangerous of him to say he was +glad so many Red Army soldiers were being killed. And you can tell him +that some day when I speak to Mr. Roosevelt again I will tell him what +the American Ambassador to our country said openly in June of 1941." + +"Please, Don Anibal," one of the doctors begged, "you must save your +strength." + +"For the speech," Lavandero added, quickly, motioning to Hall that it +was time for everyone but the doctors to leave the room. + +Hall stood up, again patted the blue-veined hand of the President. He +watched Tabio, pausing to gain strength, mutely protesting with glazed +eyes the obvious stage directions of the doctors who ended this visit. + +"I must go now, Don Anibal," Hall said, softly. "If you wish, I will be +back tomorrow or the next day." + +"Matthew," Tabio said, and he began to address Hall in English, "you +were in Spain. You saw. Tell them it does not matter if one man lives or +dies. I have no fears for truth. I have come a long way on truth. Tell +them, _viejo_, tell them what a miracle truth is in the hands of the +people. You have but"--the words were coming with great difficulty--"you +have but to make this truth known...." + +Tabio's jaw sagged open. He fell forward against his knees. The doctors +took him by the shoulders and moved him into a prone position. His eyes, +still open, stared at everything and nothing, glass now. + +"_Carino mio!_" his wife sobbed, but at an unspoken order from one of +the doctors Simon led his mother to a chair in the corner and kept her +still. Lavandero, Gonzales and Hall left the chamber for the library. + +"What happened to Anibal?" Lavandero asked Gonzales. + +The doctor shook his head. "It is the end," he said. "Don Anibal will +never speak again." + +"You lie!" + +"No, Esteban." He turned to Hall. "His last words were to you, +_companero_." + +"Christ Almighty!" + +"For God's sake, tell me what happened to Anibal!" + +"He fell into a coma. I think it is a stroke." Gonzales sat heavily in +one of the leather chairs, began to fumble in his pocket for another +adrenalin vial. His fingers began to become frantic in their impotence. +"I--I ..." + +Hall caught his head as he started to collapse. He reached into the +doctor's pocket, found the adrenalin and used it. + +"It is a stupid way to live," Gonzales said. "To have your life depend +always on your being a vegetable with a bottle. Thank you, _companero_. +Just let me rest here for a few minutes." + +Throughout all of this, Lavandero stood over Tabio's table, staring down +at the jar of pencils with a dark, ugly face. He clenched opened +clenched opened clenched his fists, his fingers working to no definite +rhythm, and then he looked at his fists opening and closing and for a +few minutes it seemed as if he looked upon his own hands with loathing. +Then, straightening up, he put his hands in the pockets of his blue +jacket and turned to Hall and Gonzales. "This is no time to plan +personal violence," he said. "It would be exactly what the fascists +wanted." + +"I am at your orders," Hall said. "I think you know that." + +"I am counting on you." + +"What do I do now?" + +"Keep out of sight for a few hours. I think you should go to Gonzales' +house. I'll get you an official car and a chauffeur." + +"I'm not alone," Hall said. He told Lavandero about Jerry and the death +of Androtten. + +"_Madre de Dios_, take her with you! And keep her hidden." The sweat +pouring down his face betrayed Lavandero's excitement; his voice was +calm and steady. "I'll send an armed guard with you." + +"I'll get the nurse," Gonzales said. + +"No. Don't get up. Tell us where she is." + +Lavandero had taken over. Later, Hall knew, the man would allow himself +to fly into a wild rage, but he would do it alone, where no one could +hear or see him. And Hall knew, also, that soon Lavandero would be +engaged in a battle with Gamburdo and the fascists for control of the +nation. + + + + +_Chapter fourteen_ + + +The black Packard roared out of the subterranean garage of the +Presidencia, shot out to the Avenida de la Liberacion. Hall and Jerry, +in the back seat, looked behind them at the second Packard which carried +their convoy of guards. "They have enough tommy guns back there to blow +up anyone who makes a pass at us," he said. "And the two boys in the +front seat can throw plenty of lead." + +"It's like a gangster movie," Jerry said. + +"That shooting in your room this morning was no movie. I've never seen a +deader Nazi than the late Wilhelm Androtten, alias X." + +"What's going to happen to us now, Matt?" + +"Don't worry." + +"I am worried. I want to know." + +The two cars pulled up at the doctor's house. Maria Luisa, Gonzales' +fourteen-year-old daughter, met them at the door. "I am preparing some +sandwiches," she said. "Father said you were famished." + +They waited in the living room while the girl worked in the kitchen. +"You're too hot in San Hermano," Hall said. + +"Not yet. They don't know what happened to Androtten. I can just go on +being Ansaldo's nurse until ..." + +"Forget it," he snapped. "This isn't for amateurs any longer. And you're +still an amateur, baby." + +"Then what do you suggest I do?" + +"You're going back to the States with a bodyguard on the next plane out +of here. You're waiting for me in Miami. I'll give you a letter to one +of the chiefs of Military Intelligence there. You'll be safe." + +"How about you?" + +"I'll meet you in two weeks. Three weeks at the outside." + +"I won't do it, Matt. I'm staying here with you." + +"But I won't be here all the time." + +"Then I'll wait here for you." + +"Baby, listen." He took out a package of American cigarettes, put one in +her mouth, lit it. "Ladies don't smoke in San Hermano. You can smoke +until you hear anyone coming. Then hand it to me. Now, sit down like a +good girl, and for God's sake, listen carefully. There's a job I've got +to do. It's my job alone. I've got to do it alone. I had an idea that +before I was through here I'd have to do it. But Tabio's last words were +spoken in English and they were to me, and baby, as soon as he stopped +talking I knew what I had to do." + +Hall quoted the President's words about the power of Truth. "And he was +right," he said. "I remember what happened when I got out of the can in +Spain. I went back to Paris to get some rest. Tabio was in Geneva, +packing his things to go home. I found out he was still there and I went +to see him before he left. He was going home to run for President so +that this country shouldn't become a second Spain. + +"I remember telling him that the thing which kept me alive in Franco's +prison was my feeling that a miracle would happen--that the little guys +in England and France would force the appeasers to sell guns to the +Republic, or that Russia would be able to fly some heavy bombers across +France for Madrid, or that Roosevelt would open his eyes and lift the +damned embargo, or anything. Any good miracle like these, even a tiny +one, would have saved the day. And I went to sleep every day sure that +each morning I'd wake up closer to the day this miracle would happen, +and that some morning I'd wake up and find that the people somewhere +outside of Spain had performed this miracle. + +"I remember the way Tabio listened to me speak, and how when I was done +he said that the miracle I wanted all that time was that the truth +should get to the people. It was that simple. And he was dead right. +It's exactly what he did in his own country, and you know how the people +love him for it." + +Jerry looked puzzled. "But what do you propose to do?" + +"Look," he said. "It's a matter of days at most before the whole nation +will be mourning Tabio. The Constitution says that within thirty days +after the President dies, there must be a general election. I have an +idea that the race will be between Gamburdo and someone like Lavandero. +Both will claim that they are Tabio's real choice as a successor. If I +can get to Havana, I can dig up the truth about Gamburdo and Ansaldo in +a matter of days. I'm sure of it. If it's anywhere at all, it's in +Havana. Gamburdo is taking public credit for trying to save Tabio's life +by bringing Ansaldo to San Hermano. The truth can make this boomerang in +his face." + +"Can't I help in any way?" + +Hall stopped short. "Do you know what you're asking? That scrape in the +hotel this morning was nothing compared to the things you're asking for +if you stay. Even if Gamburdo is licked, it's only the beginning." + +"But you're sticking it out, aren't you?" + +"I have to. I've been in it since Madrid. There's no escaping it for me. +I'll never know any peace until the crime of Spain is liquidated. +Fascism isn't just an ideological enemy for me, baby. It's a cancer +burning in my own, my very personal guts. I'd go off my conk if mine +weren't two of the billion fists that are smashing and will go on +smashing back at fascism until it's deader than Willie Androtten. I've +never stopped to think of what my chances are of being alive at the +finish. All I know is that if I stopped fighting it I'd die." + +"Let me stay," Jerry pleaded. "I'd be a liar if I said that's the way I +felt, too. But the war came to me this morning at the end of Androtten's +gun, darling. I can't escape it any more than you can now." + + * * * * * + +They had an early dinner with Gonzales and his daughter, avoiding all +serious discussion until Lavandero arrived. The Minister of Education +brought grim news: Anibal Tabio had suffered a second stroke and was +dying. + +"Where is Ansaldo?" Hall asked. + +"He is still on the ranch of Gamburdo's brother. He is waiting for an +answer to his ultimatum. Don Anibal's condition is still a secret." + +"But Esteban," Gonzales said, "we cannot keep it a secret. You will be +accused of murdering Don Anibal if Gamburdo finds out." + +"I know. I've asked Segador to come. I wanted to bring Simon Tabio, but +he refuses to leave the room while his father still breathes. What do +you think, _Companero_ Hall? What is the first thing we have to do? By +the way, does the senorita speak Spanish?" + +"No. I will tell her what she should know later." + +"Is she reliable?" + +"I hope to marry her--if I am alive in three weeks." + +Jerry looked at Hall's face and blushed. "I'll bet you just told him +about us," she said. + +"My felicitations," Lavandero said, in English. He gave her his hand. +"But with your permission, we must speak in Spanish." + +Hall told Lavandero and Gonzales his plan about Havana. "I was going to +do it in any event if Duarte didn't hear from his friends in Mexico." + +"But why Havana?" + +"Because Havana was the base headquarters in the Western Hemisphere for +all Falangist work. The boys in the Casa de la Cultura and on the staff +of _Ahora_ worked with the Batista government to break it up. They +arrested the key leaders, but even though they had to let them go back +to Spain, they took their confidential files away from them." + +"And you think that Ansaldo will turn up in these files?" + +"It is something we must not overlook." + +"There is someone at the door," Gonzales said. "Wait." He slipped the +safety of the automatic in his pocket, and went to the door with his +hand on the gun. + +"Be tranquil," Gonzales announced. "It is Diego." + +The Major Diego Segador who walked into the room was quite a different +creature from the mournful-visaged officer in the neat uniform Hall had +met at the barracks. He wore a gray civilian suit, whose jacket was at +least four sizes too small for his broad frame, yellow box-toe shoes and +an incongruous striped silk shirt. The discolored flat straw hat he +carried in his tremendous square hands completed the picture which +immediately came to Hall's mind: a vision of Diego Segador as a tough +steel-worker on a holiday in Youngstown, Ohio, during the twenties. + +"You look," said Gonzales, "like a Gallego grocer on his way to High +Mass." + +"That's enough," Lavandero said sharply, "Don Anibal is dying." + +The blood rose to Segador's head. "No!" he shouted. + +"Sit down, Diego." + +Gonzales opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of brandy. He shouted to +the kitchen for his daughter to bring glasses. + +"Major," Hall said, "this is Miss Olmstead." + +"Hello," Segador said, in English. "You have close shave, no?" + +All the men had brandy. Jerry merely looked at the bottle with great +longing. + +"Well then, Diego," Lavandero said, "minutes count now. Hall has a plan. +It is a good one." He described it for the Major. "If he comes back with +pictures of Ansaldo in the uniform of the Falange, we will have to flood +the country with them. They will not look nice next to the pictures of +Ansaldo embracing Gamburdo, no?" + +"They will look very nice--for us. But how is Hall going to get to +Havana?" + +"By plane. Why?" + +"Why? Because you are a marked man, Hall." + +"Get me to the border, then. I'll get to Havana from across the border." + +"Not on your passport," Segador said. "It is too risky. Tomas, you have +a passport, no? Never mind. All right, then, Hall. You go on a passport +made out to Vicente, but with your picture on it. I'll drive you north +by car. You board a plane in San Martin Province--there's one that meets +the Clipper for Miami. The mining men use it. You travel to Havana as +one of our nationals, one Emilio Vicente. Then the officials of your own +government in San Juan won't ..." He stopped suddenly, filled his glass +with brandy, and drank it in one short gulp. + +"Out with it, Major," Hall said. "What are you hiding?" + +"Hiding?" + +"About me and my government?" + +"Nothing. It's just that you are too well known as Matthew Hall. You are +known by face in San Juan. Perhaps, when you land there to refuel, +someone will recognize you. And then there will be trouble about your +Vicente passport. Perhaps--one cannot be too careful." + +Hall knew that the Major was concealing something from him, something +that had to do with himself. He thought of his low standing at the +American Embassy, and of some of the fascists in high places he had +offended in San Juan. "Yes," he said, "I think you are right." This, he +decided, was not the time to start new trouble. + +"No," Lavandero said, "it is no good. We shall need another passport for +_Companero_ Hall." + +"How can we get it?" Segador asked. "There is no time." + +"There is time," Lavandero said, evenly. "Duarte is preparing a passport +and papers for Hall. Diplomatic. He will travel as Victor Ortiz Tinoco, +official courier of the Mexican Government." + +"When did he start on the papers?" Hall asked. + +"A few hours ago. He thought you might want to make the trip." + +"Why didn't you tell me before this?" + +Lavandero's face softened. "My dear friend," he said, "what you are +undertaking is no minor task. The complications are enormous. If you are +caught, you face much legal trouble at the very least; death by +violence, if the fascists catch you first. You are under no obligations +to this Republic. I had to hear it from your lips first." + +"When can I start?" + +"In two hours. You will have to give me your passport, so that I may +have the picture copied for the Ortiz Tinoco papers. Segador's idea is +the right one. He will drive you to the San Martin airport tonight. The +Mexican Embassy is ordering the tickets. I will leave you with Gonzales +and Segador to work out the rest of the details." + +"Good. Here is my passport." + +"The Republic will always be grateful to you, _Companero_ Hall." +Lavandero stood up and started for the door. Hall accompanied him. + +"Well," Hall said, "I'll try to get back within the week--if I'm lucky." +He held out his hand to the Minister. + +"Thank you, _companero_." Lavandero raised his arms to Hall's shoulders +and embraced him. "You were worthy of his trust." + +"And you of his love," Hall answered. He was sorry for Lavandero, sorry +for him as a friend, as a man, as a leader so intent on answering his +responsibilities to his moment in history that he had to allow his own +personal rages to simmer unattended within him until there again came a +time when a man could walk off alone and be his own master. + +"I will see you in a week, _companero_." + +Hall walked back to the living room. Segador was trying to convey to +Jerry his impressions of Atlantic City in 1919. "Womans _bonitas_," he +was shouting, "whisky bad. Much bad. I have young years, much money. +Well, well. So." + +"We'll listen to your memoirs when I get back," Hall said. + +"When we get back," Segador said. + +"You're coming with me?" + +"I'm meeting you on your way back. We'll meet in Caracas. Listen to me, +_companero_. The chief of our Air Force is loyal. He will give me one of +our American bombers. From the San Martin airport, a bomber can make +Caracas in fifteen hours. Give me ten hours' notice, and I will meet you +in time. I already have a loyal flying crew standing by for my orders." + +"Where can we meet in Caracas?" + +"At the airport. I can meet your plane." + +"Won't you be followed?" + +"Of course. By three or four of my picked men. Don't worry about that." + +Gonzales interrupted to say that there would be time for them to have +dinner at the house before starting on the drive north. + +"Oh, while we're at it," Hall said, "I am going to ask you to be good +enough to keep my _novia_ here until I return. That is, if Segador +thinks it is safe." + +"It is safe," the Major grunted. "We will make it safe." + +"Then it is the privilege of my daughter and myself to make this house +the senorita's for a century." Gonzales called his daughter in from the +kitchen. "It will be very good for her, _amigos_. Maria Luisa is +studying English in high school. It will help her greatly." + +"Let her teach Jerry Spanish in a week," Hall said. + +The girl seemed pleased when her father told her about Jerry. "Oh, +nice," she said, trying out her English immediately. "You are very +welcome, Aunt. The pleasure it is all of mine." + +"You are very kind," Jerry said. + +"Please. May I show you the room? There are five rooms upstairs in my +father's house. Your room faces the ..." She paused, flustered, turned +to Hall. "_Como se dice, por favor, frente con vista al mar?_" + +"Tell her that her room _faces the ocean front_, Maria Luisa. And teach +her two words of Spanish for every word you learn from her." + +"Let's go," Jerry said to the girl. "Vamoose _arriba, si_?" + +"Under no circumstances," Segador said when the girls were gone, "must +you attempt to come back by regular routes. If anything happens to me, +wait at the border. Get to Santiago by plane, and wait in the big hotel +for word from us." + +"How bad is it for me?" + +"Who knows? The fascists are mother-raping bastards, but they are no +donkeys. Today they must be looking for you in San Hermano. In a few +hours, they will begin to worry. Tomorrow they will become upset because +you are gone, and by tomorrow night they will turn the whole Cross and +Sword gang loose to look for you. But by tomorrow night, if all goes +well, and if that madman of a Duarte doesn't try to drive the car +himself but brings his driver along, you will be in Havana. + +"Of course," Segador said, "we will do everything we can to end the +hunt. But we can only do the usual things. Perhaps we will identify the +body of some poor Hermanito who gets killed by a car as Matthew Hall. +Give me some papers, by the way; we'll need them if we can get the right +body." + +"Lavandero has my American passport. And here's my wallet. That's good +enough." Hall took the three photos out of the wallet. "The pictures are +for her--if I don't come back." + +"And the money?" + +Hall flipped his fingers through the eight hundred-odd dollars worth of +travelers' checks. "I'd better sign these, just in case," he said. "I +want you to split it between Pepe Delgado and Emilio Vicente." + +"I understand," Segador said. "Duarte is bringing some money for you to +travel on." + +"I'll repay him when I return. Is there anything else I should know? I +have to write a letter. Have you any paper, doctor?" + +"In a moment." + +"Just a few things," Segador said. "A simple code for sending messages +to us." He explained the code system in a few minutes. "And one other +thing. I have the pictures we took of that Nazi Vicente shot; pictures +of his face and his fingerprints. We will seal them in the pouch you are +carrying. Perhaps you can identify it in Havana somehow." + +"I will try. Ah, thanks for the paper. This will take me only a few +minutes." Hall propped the writing pad on his lap and wrote a short note +to his attorney in New York. + +"Well, this is it," he wrote, "and I'll be more surprised than you are +if you ever receive this letter. I'm about to leave this country on what +might turn out to be a one-way trip to the grave. If I don't come back, +this letter is to be sent to you. It's about my will. I still want the +dough to go to the Spanish refugees and the veterans of the +International Brigades, but I want to lop off about a quarter of the +total in the bank and due me from Bird and leave it for Miss Geraldine +Olmstead. She is an American citizen and, if you hadn't received this +note, would by now be Mrs. H. When you meet her, introduce her to my +friends and take her around to the Committee; she wants to help the +Spanish Republicans. If I really thought this was my last trip, I guess +I'd close this letter with some appropriate and high-sounding last +lines--you know, the kind of crap a guy would write as the lead for his +own obit. But we'll skip the farewell address. This letter is being +witnessed by two good friends, one a doctor and the other a major in +this country. I guess that makes it legal." + +Hall signed the letter, told Gonzales and Segador what he wanted done +with it, and handed them the pen. "How much time do we have?" he asked. + +"You will have to leave in less than two hours," Segador said. "Duarte +will be here long before then." + +"Good." Hall looked at his watch. "I would like to see the girl alone in +her room for a while. There is much that I must tell her before I go." + +"I understand," Segador said. + +"Are you making the trip to San Martin with me?" + +"No. I will only ride the first twenty miles with you. I have a car +waiting for me at Marao." + +Hall waited for Gonzales to call his daughter, and then he went up to +Jerry's room. + + + + +_Chapter fifteen_ + + +Hall had time to buy a paper at the Havana airport before the Panair bus +started out for the city. In the half-light of evening, he could read +only the headlines, and the front page carried nothing about Tabio's +condition. It meant only one thing, that Don Anibal was still alive. His +death would have rated a banner headline in every paper published south +of the United States borders. + +He folded the paper under his sealed attache case, sat wearily back in +his seat as the half-empty bus rolled through the flat table lands +between the airport and Havana. It was a run of fifteen miles from +Rancho Boyeros to the Prado, a stretch long enough to give Hall another +opportunity to review in his mind the nature of the tasks that lay ahead +of him. + +Physically, there were few details which could trap him. Duarte had been +very thorough, even to the point of bringing Mexican labels for Jerry to +sew into every item of apparel on Hall's body and in his Mexican leather +grip. The credentials in his worn Mexican wallet had carried him through +the control stations of four governments, including the station in San +Juan (although the night in Puerto Rico had been a jittery twelve hours +of sulking in his room like a caged animal). He wore a hat and a pair of +soft ankle boots which belonged to Duarte, and a pair of broad-framed +tortoise-shell reading glasses he had borrowed from Dr. Gonzales. The +attache case, protected by the Mexican seal, contained the pictures of +Androtten, a letter from Duarte to a man named Figueroa in the Mexican +Embassy, and the automatic Segador had given him the day after he was +drugged. + +It was too late to report to the Mexican Embassy and deliver the letter +to Figueroa. But the Casa de la Cultura would be open (there were +lectures and meetings of some sort going on every night at the Spanish +Republican society), the boys on the staff of _Ahora_ would be at their +desks at the paper, and Colonel Lobo could always be reached within a +few hours. The idea was to contact all three tonight; if the documentary +bomb which would blow up Ansaldo was anywhere in Havana, it would be +either at the Casa, the paper, or in the files of the Secret Police. + +His heart quickened as the bus reached the narrow streets of Havana, +honked its way to the Maceo, and then turned lazily down the Prado. He +loved this city as he loved only two others, New York and Madrid. In the +course of nearly four decades, Hall had spent a mere four months in +Havana, but these were months in which he rarely got more than four +hours' sleep a night. He had worked hard in this city, but for a +hundred-odd nights he had also known the fantastic pleasures of merely +walking the streets of the Cuban capital, talking to friends, stopping +off to rest and have a tropical beer or a tall glass of mamey pulp, +getting drunk only on the green softness of the Havana moon and the cool +pleasures of the Gulf breeze. Here he had found old friends from Spain, +and made new and life-long friendships with a host of Cubans. He knew, +when he last left Havana, that the city had become one of his spiritual +homes, that always he would think of it as a place to which he could +return when he wanted the peace which comes to a man from being where he +belongs. + +As they approached the Panair office, Hall became apprehensive. He was +afraid that he might be recognized by one of the clerks. He dug into his +wallet for an American two-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. +"Take me directly to the Jefferson Hotel, _chico_," he said. "It is only +two streets out of your way." + +"I won't get shot if I do, _amigo_." + +He chose the Jefferson because it was a small, ancient and very +unfashionable hotel, without a bar, and completely overlooked by the +American colony. It was also very inexpensive, just the kind of a place +a new courier, anxious to make a good record, would choose. It was on +the Prado, it was clean, and the bills were modest enough to reflect to +the credit of the government traveler who submitted them. Not the least +of its charms for Hall was that the Jefferson was the one place where he +stood not the slightest chance of being known by either the guests or +the employees. + +He signed the register with a modest flourish, insisted upon and +obtained a reduced rate due to his standing as a courier, and then, +spotting the large safe in the office behind the counter, he asked for +the manager. "I am," he said, flourishing his identity papers, "a +courier of the Mexican Government. Since I have arrived too late to +present myself to my Embassy tonight, could I ask for the privilege of +depositing my case in your safe for the night?" + +The manager said he would be honored to oblige. He had, he said, +traveled widely in Mexico, and admired the Mexican people, the Mexican +Government, and most of all Senor Ortiz Tinoco's Department of Foreign +Relations, and did the visitor expect to make frequent stops in Havana? +The visitor assured the manager that he did. + +The case was handed to the night clerk, who opened the safe, deposited +it, and closed the heavy iron door. "It will be as safe," the manager +said, "as the gold in the teeth of a Gallego." + +"That," said Hall, "is security enough for me." + +He got into the rickety elevator and went to his room. It was a large +room overlooking the Prado. He opened the shutters, looked out at the +star-drenched skies. He was home again. Outside, juke boxes in three +different open cafes on one street were playing three records with +maximum volume. A baby in the next room was lying alone and cooing at +the ceiling. Near by, a light roused a rooster on some rooftop to let +out a loud call. + +Hall heard the sounds of the city as they blended into the tone pattern +peculiarly Havana's own. He took a quick shower, changed into some fresh +clothes, and went downstairs to the Prado. He stopped first at a cigar +stand a few doors from the hotel, bought a handful of choice cigars, and +lit a long and very dark Partagas, being careful to remember that only +gringos removed the cigar band before lighting up. + +He walked casually down the Prado, toward the Malecon, pausing in the +course of the four blocks between the Casa de la Cultura and the +Jefferson to study the stills in the lobby of a movie house showing an +American film, to sip a leisurely pot of coffee, and to buy a box of wax +matches and a lottery ticket from a street vendor. From the street, he +could see that the windows of the Casa were well lighted. He walked +another block, crossed the street, and then, very casually, he studied +the signs on the street entrance to the organization's headquarters. +_Tonight: Lecture on History of Music by Professor A. Vasquez. Dance and +ball for young people._ And why shouldn't a bachelor courier on the +loose in Havana attend a dance for the young _refugiados_? He went +through the motions of a visiting blade debating with himself the +propriety of attending such a ball. + +Squaring his shoulders, the Mexican courier put the cigar in his mouth +and started to climb the stairs to the headquarters of the Casa. He +climbed slowly, afraid of receiving too enthusiastic a greeting when he +reached the first-floor landing. + +There was a light in the small meeting room at the end of the corridor. +Hall stood near the door for a few minutes, listening for a familiar +voice through the opened transom. Then, carefully, he knocked, and +turned the handle of the door. It was open. + +He stepped into a meeting of a small committee. Eight men were sitting +around a long table. They were talking about the problems of getting +help to the Spaniards in the French concentration camps in North Africa. +All discussion stopped the moment the confreres saw Hall. + +"I am looking," he said, "for Santiago Iglesias." + +A tawny-haired Spaniard at the table looked up. "_Viejo!_" he shouted, +springing from his chair and rushing over to confront Hall. + +The right hand which rose to take the cigar from Hall's mouth also +lingered long enough to hold an admonishing finger to his lips. "Hello, +Rafael," he said. "I didn't know you were in Cuba." + +Rafael was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Neither did Franco," he +laughed. "Last week I found out for the first time that the fascists had +jailed you and that you got out after the war. I thought you were dead, +M..." + +The look in Hall's eyes stopped him from pronouncing the rest of the +American's name. + +"Let's go outside," Hall said, softly. "I do not have much time." + +They stepped into the corridor. "Where can we talk?" Hall asked. "Is +anyone using Santiago's office?" + +"No. We can sit there." + +They found the office unoccupied. "Don't turn the light on," Hall said. +"The window faces the street." + +Rafael locked the door, pulled two seats close to the big desk in the +corner. "We can sit here and talk quietly," he said. + +"It's wonderful to see you, Rafael. I'd heard you were captured in a +hospital during the Ebro retreat." + +"_Mierda!_ That's what the fascists boasted. No. I came out of the +retreat in good order. I started with thirty men, but, instead of taking +to the roads like the Lincolns, I started to cross the mountains. I went +up with thirty men, and I came down on the other side with a battalion. +Most of them got through alive after that." + +"Good boy! Where have you been since then?" + +"In hell!" Rafael spat, angrily. "Rotting in a French concentration +camp, mostly. I organized an escape. We killed six guards, and more than +twenty prisoners got away. I got to Casablanca through the underground, +and they put me on a Chilean ship. Two weeks ago we reached Havana. I'm +to eat and rest for a month. Then I go back to Spain for more fighting. +With the guerrillas. When did you get here?" + +"An hour ago. Listen, I want to talk to you. But it is important that we +find Santiago. Is he in town?" + +"Yes. He is supposed to be at our meeting. He'll be here." + +"Can you go back and leave word for him to join you in here the minute +he comes? It's very important." + +Rafael jumped from his chair, struck an absurd caricature of military +posture, and made a limp French salute, his hand resting languidly +against his ear. "_Mais oui, mon general_," he said. "_Mais oui, oui, +oui._" He marched stiffly out of the room, posing at the door to make an +obscene gesture meant for the men of Vichy. + +He glided noiselessly back to the dark office in a few minutes, waved +Hall's proffered cigar away. "I can't smoke any more. We had nothing to +smoke the last year in Spain, and Monsieur Daladier and Company never +sent us any tobacco. Now I just can't stand it. I walk around Havana and +everyone offers me cigars, but I've lost my taste for it." + +"It will come back, Rafael." + +"Why are you in Havana, Mateo?" + +"It is a long story, _chico_. I'd rather tell you in front of Santiago. +It's about Anibal Tabio. I left San Hermano two nights ago. Things are +serious, there. Falange." + +"Is Tabio really so ill?" + +"He is dying, _chico_. He may be dead by now. I think he was killed by +the Falange. I came here for the proof. Santiago knows. We've exchanged +letters." + +"_Hola!_" Santiago Iglesias was at the door. "Then you got my letters?" +He was ten years older than Rafael, tall and powerfully built. He +crossed the room in long, athlete's strides, his head thrown back as if +to announce to the world that the white hairs which outnumbered the +black of his head were merely an accident of the war. + +"I knew you would understand," Hall said. + +"What happens?" + +"Don Anibal is dying. I think Ansaldo did it." + +"He is a fascist, Mateo. You were absolutely right." + +"How do you know? I need the proof immediately." + +"There is a man in town who was trapped behind Franco's lines for two +years. He knew Ansaldo well." + +"That is good--for you and me. But it is not enough. There is too much +at stake." + +"I guessed as much, Mateo. General Mogrado sent a message from Mexico +City a few days ago. He wanted the information also. I took this man in +Havana and we went to a lawyer and he made a long affidavit about +Ansaldo. Mogrado has the affidavit by this time." + +"Who is this man? Is he well known?" + +"No, Mateo. He was a minor official of the Ministry of Commerce. I have +a copy of his affidavit, and you can meet him tomorrow if you wish. He +is staying with relatives in Marianao." + +"Let us try to see him tomorrow. But I need much more than his +affidavit. I need more than anything else a picture of Ansaldo in +Falange uniform, a picture that shows him with officers of Germany and +Italy. I was in Burgos when the picture was taken--and I have a feeling +that the picture is right here in Havana." + +"Here? In Havana?" + +"Listen, _companeros_. I saw the _Arriba_ man take that picture. I was +standing a hundred feet away. It was in the spring or summer of 1938," +Hall said. "I know you have the complete file of _Arriba_ here." + +"No, Mateo. We do not." + +The blood left Hall's head. "You don't?" he said. "But when I was here +we ..." + +"It is the complete file of _Arriba_ of Madrid since April of 1939, +Mateo. Since Franco entered Madrid, _amigo_." + +"And before that?" + +"There are some, but not a complete file. They have many fascist papers +at _Ahora_, and at the University there is Dr. Nazario with his personal +collection of fascist publications. It is very large, and it goes back +to 1935 in some cases, but it has many empty places." + +"And the Secret Police? What has Colonel Lobo got?" + +"Dossiers and documents. But papers--who knows?" + +"I'll be back in Madrid in a month," Rafael said. "I can go back sooner +if it will help the cause, Mateo. There is surely a complete file +there." + +"No, thank you, Rafael, but I need the picture in a few hours." He told +them why the pictures were needed, and how they would be used if he +could find them. + +"Don't worry," Santiago said. "There are three collections to examine, +and in the meanwhile we might get some further clues from de Sola. He is +a very intelligent fellow. I'll put him to work on Dr. Nazario's +collection in the morning. Rafael, tonight you go to _Ahora_. Go through +their Spanish collection, and then examine their files of _Arriba_ of +Havana. The local _Arriba_ used more pictures than an American magazine, +and most of them came from Franco Spain. You'd better go right now." + +"I'll be there in ten minutes. Shall I tell them what it's about, +Mateo?" + +"No, I'll tell them myself. I'm here on false papers. Just warn them +that if they see me on the street I'm not to be recognized. But I'll see +them before I leave." + +"I'm going to call Lobo," Hall said. "At the very least his dossiers are +more official than de Sola's affidavit." + +Santiago shoved the phone toward Hall. "I was going to suggest it +myself. Do you remember the number?" + +"Of course." + +There was no answer at Lobo's house. Hall called the headquarters of the +National Police. "I want to reach Colonel Lobo," he said to the man who +answered his call. + +"We no longer have a Colonel Lobo." + +"What?" + +"We have a General Lobo, senor." + +"Where is he?" + +"Who is this speaking?" + +"Who am I?" Hall hesitated. "If he's there, just tell him it's Johnny +Verde Luna. He'll know who it is." Lobo called all Americans Johnny; +Verde Luna was a horse he and Hall had played for three straight weeks +at the Hipodromo until it romped home in front at the longest odds in +ten years. + +"I will, Mr. Johnny Green Moon," the other man said, in English. "When I +see him tomorrow." + +"I don't understand you, senor. I ..." + +"He is not here, senor." + +"I know. Don't tell me where he is. But do you know?" + +"That depends." + +"Listen to me, my friend," Hall said, his voice rising angrily, "I have +no time to play games. If you know where he is, find him and give him my +message. I'll call you every fifteen minutes until you get word from +him." + +"Yes, senor. I will do what I can. Where can I call you?" + +"Never mind. I will call you." Hall hung up. "A clown!" he muttered. + +"I forgot to tell you that Lobo is now a general." + +"When did it happen?" + +"Last week. It came as a reward for breaking up the Pinar del Rio +Nazi-Falange ring. You know, the one that was in radio contact with the +German submarines." + +"I remember it well." Hall had worked with Lobo in rooting the spy ring +out. "I wonder where the hell he is?" + +"Who knows? But listen, Mateo, I know a man who knows all of Lobo's +hangouts. Suppose I send him out to look?" + +"Excellent. Just tell him to give Lobo this message--that he is the only +man who can save the life of Don Anibal Tabio. Eh?" + +"We'll try it. Wait here for me. I'll be right back." + +Hall started to tell Santiago the whole story of his experiences in San +Hermano when the Spaniard returned to the office. As soon as he +mentioned the fact that Ansaldo's assistant Marina was a morphine +addict, Santiago interrupted him. + +"_Hijo de la gran puta!_ I think I know him. Wait, I'll describe him. I +know him, all right, Mateo. Wait, I'll close the shutters. Then we can +turn on the light. I think I have his picture in this room." + +"Who is he, Santiago?" + +"Just a second. That's better." He turned on the small desk light. +"Let's go to the files." + +The Spaniard took a set of keys from his pocket, opened a heavy door +behind the desk and snapped on the light in a small store room. He +stepped in front of a row of steel filing cabinets, opened one with +another key. "He used another name in Spain--and in Paris. I know it's +the same man. Called himself Marcelino Gassau in 1937. Wait. Here it +is." + +"It's the _maricon_!" Hall cried when he saw the picture Santiago drew +from the file. + +"I knew it." + +Hall glanced at his watch. "Just a second. I'm going to call Lobo back. +It's time. Let's bring the whole file on the bastard out to the desk." + +The man at police headquarters had no news of Lobo. "I'll call you +back," Hall said. "Keep trying him." + +"So Gassau is your Marina," Santiago laughed. "We knew him well, the +_cabron_. He was working in Portugal and Berlin as a liaison between +Sanjurjo and von Faupel in 1935 and 1936. Then, when the war started, he +went to Paris, the coward, spying on the German anti-fascists who were +on their way to fight with the Thaelmanns in Spain. He posed as a +contact man for the U.G.T., and then he'd lead the Germans straight to +the French police and notify the German Embassy. Then the Nazis would +start to complain that they were criminals who escaped from German +prisons and claim them back. Not one of the poor devils ever got to +Spain, but some of them were ultimately turned over to the German +Government and killed. It's all in this file." + +"What else can I find here?" + +"Not too much. He made a trip to Barcelona in 1937. The authorities +arrested him, but his friends got the British consulate to make a +special plea for his release, and the damned fools gave in and let him +go. After that he went to Argentina, but he returned to Madrid in May of +1939." + +The papers contained a detailed record of the fascist agent's crimes +against the Republic, and ended with a clipping from _Informaciones_ of +Madrid which revealed that Gassau-Marina was one of ten men to be +decorated by the Falangist Government for distinguished service during +the three years of the war. A footnote to this list said that +Gassau-Marina was one of the three men decorated that day who had +previously been awarded the Order of the German Eagle, Second Class, by +German Ambassador to Spain, General Wilhelm von Faupel. + +"This will help," Hall said. "It's a good start." + +"There's my phone. Just a minute." It was Rafael. He was calling from +the offices of _Ahora_, and he suggested that Santiago join him there. + +"Let's go," Hall said. "Do we use separate cabs?" + +"Don't be a child, Mateo. You're in Havana." + +"I'd better check with police headquarters on Lobo before we leave." + +They found Rafael in a tile-lined office on the second floor of the +newspaper building. He was sitting at a large table, three large piles +of fascist publications before him, and an opened copy of the Havana +_Arriba_ in his hands. "No luck yet," he said. "But Eduardo Sanchez had +an idea where the picture can be found." + +"Where is he?" + +"He's in there," Rafael pointed to a door. "He's digging out some more +magazines." + +Sanchez walked in with an armload of bright-colored Havana _Arribas_. +"It's good to see you again, Mateo," he said. "What passes?" + +"Trouble. How are you making out?" + +"Who knows? Are you going to stay long?" + +"I'm leaving tomorrow if I can get what I need." + +"You say the picture would be in _Arriba_ for 1938?" + +"If at all, Eduardo." + +"That's serious. There is only one place in town where I know definitely +there is a complete file of _Arriba_. It might be a little hard to get +into." + +"Where is it?" + +"The third floor of the Spanish Embassy." + +"That's bad," Hall said. + +"Bad, yes," Santiago said. He put his arms over the shoulders of Rafael +and Eduardo. "But not hopeless, eh, _companeros_?" + +Eduardo smiled, grimly. Rafael grinned, a sudden glint in his blue eyes. + +"What do you think, Rafael?" + +"I think we should shoot our way in, _mi coronel_." + +"And you, Eduardo?" + +"I don't know. If we shoot our way in, we have to shoot our way out +again too. Maybe we'll kill a few fascists, but will we be able to get +at their files?" + +"It would do us good," Rafael said, "to kill ourselves a few fascists. I +think we are getting out of practice." + +"Sit down," Santiago said. "This takes some planning. Mateo, you had +better tell Eduardo what is at stake." + +"In a minute. I want some water. And I'd better phone Lobo's +headquarters again." + +"Use this phone," Eduardo said. "I'll bring you water." He took three +sheets of gray copy paper from his desk and fashioned a water cup. "We +can't get paper cups since Pearl Harbor." + +"Listen to me," Santiago said. "There is a way we can kill two birds +with one stone. Eduardo, if Hall gets the picture, it kills Gamburdo and +the Falange in San Hermano. That's one bird." + +"And the other?" + +"The other, _companeros_, is Fernando Rivas." + +"Rivas?" Eduardo's dark, good-looking face grew puzzled. "Is he in this +too?" + +"Wait. I should bring _Companero_ Hall up to date. You don't know Rivas, +Mateo. He is a queer bird. He comes from a good Republican family in +Madrid. A very good family. Republican since before the First Republic. +This Rivas, this Fernando, he was good. Under Alfonso, he got a job in +the Foreign Office. They sent him to Havana as an attache in the +legation. Even then he was a good Republican. But something happened to +the man when the war started. He didn't fight for the fascists, but ..." + +"Tell him about his wife," Rafael said. + +"That's what I think did it. He had a British wife, and she had +high-life aspirations." + +"I think I understand," Hall said. + +"I don't have to go into the details. There is no time for that, anyway. +The point is that he had to go to Spain last year, and he came back +filled with loathing for everything he saw. This I know for a fact. +First, he started to sit home alone every night and get drunk, and then +he began to write a memoir about what he saw. He didn't think anyone +would ever see it. He still doesn't know that anyone but himself has +ever seen it. I got it from his servant one morning a few weeks ago. She +is one of ours. We photographed it and she put it back before he got +home that night." + +Eduardo passed a box of inexpensive cigars around. "The week before +that," he said, "I ran into Rivas at a cafe in Matanzas. He was sobering +up after a drinking bout. I tried to avoid him but he followed me out of +the place. He was crying. He called himself a son of a whore mother and +a traitor to his honor and his people and carried on like a fool. Then +he started to tell me about his wife's lover--we've known all about that +for months, but Rivas had just found out--and I became filled with +disgust for the creature. I shook him off and left him standing in the +street crying like a whipped dog. I hate weaklings." + +"I get it," Hall said. "But when you saw his diary, you started to +change your mind, eh?" + +"I still don't trust him. I introduced him to Santiago because Santiago +wanted to meet him." + +"I wouldn't trust him with Franco's daughter," Rafael said. + +Santiago Iglesias sighed heavily. "No one asks you to sleep with him, +Rafael," he said. "It isn't that. But you remember what happened in the +early days of the war. We had to take any officer who swore loyalty to +the Republic. We had no choice in the matter, did we, _chico_?" + +"But we also put in commissars to keep an eye on them." + +"It's true, _chico_. But some of them proved to be really loyal, eh?" + +"A handful." + +"All right, even a handful. But the point is that they were useful. Here +is the situation as of tonight: if the pictures which will kill the +Falange in San Hermano are anywhere within our reach at all, they are in +the Spanish Embassy. We have no contact we can trust inside the Embassy. +The nearest thing to such a contact is Rivas. He is a weakling and he +was a traitor. We know that. What we don't know is whether his +repentance is sincere. The only way to really find out is to test the +man. This is the time to test him. I've spoken with him three times in +the past week. He begs for a chance to prove that he has the right to +serve the Republic again." + +"He can serve the Republic best," Rafael insisted, "by blowing his +brains out." + +"Rafael!" + +"I'm sorry, Colonel Iglesias. I hate traitors." + +"I don't love them, _chico_. But it is not for us to put our personal +likes and dislikes before our greater duties, Major. And please +remember," he added, smiling, "you still are a major in the People's +Army. Neither your commission nor your Army has expired yet." + +"What do you want me to do?" Rafael asked, softly. "I will respect your +commands as my superior--and my friend." + +Santiago toyed with a thick copy pencil. "I am going to put it to a vote +right here. Who is for getting Fernando Rivas to let us into the Spanish +Embassy and removing what we need from the files? Understand, we won't +tell him what we want in the files--that would be trusting him too much +before he proves himself. Who is for raiding the Embassy with the help +of Rivas? On this, Mateo, you will have to vote also." + +Hall and Eduardo Sanchez raised their hands. + +"Against?" + +The three men looked at Rafael. He folded his hands in his lap, +ostentatiously studied the ceiling. + +"Are you against the idea, Rafael?" + +"I think it is crazy, Santiago. I am not afraid. I just think it is +crazy. Can't we get in without the traitor?" + +"I don't know how," Santiago said. "I guess we'll have to try it without +you, Rafael." + +"Over my dead body, my friend. I'm going with you. I've been wrong +before, but I've never avoided a battle. I'm not ducking this one, +Santiago." + +Eduardo winked at Hall. "Listen to the strategist," he laughed, but +there was pride and real affection in his words. "Rafael," he said, "if +you didn't shoot so straight I'd say that you talk too damned much." + +"Go to hell," Rafael said. "You're wasting good time. Let's finish +examining these fascist papers. Maybe we'll find the filthy picture +tonight in these piles, and then we won't have to risk three, no four," +he looked at Hall, "four good Republican lives on the guts of a traitor. +Come on, Eduardo, get to work." + +Hall motioned Santiago to the door. "Let's go around the corner," he +whispered, "and bring back a few bottles of Cristal." + +They walked slowly to the _cantineria_ on the corner, had some beer, and +bought a dozen bottles to take back with them. Santiago said that he +hoped it would not be necessary to raid the Embassy without previously +testing Rivas on less hazardous tasks. + +"Personally," he said, "I think Rivas is honest about wanting to come +back. I think he can be trusted if we have to do it with him. But it +might mean shooting, and you cannot afford to get shot. Perhaps you had +better not join us." + +"No. Don't try to cut me out, _viejo_, or I'll do it alone with Rafael." + +"All right. But I hope we find it before we have to raid the fascists." + +They went upstairs. "Call Fabri at your office," Eduardo told Santiago. +"He says he has some good news for you." + +"He must have found Lobo." Santiago was right. His man had reached the +General. "He says for you to meet him at headquarters in an hour. Fabri +found him at a party in Vedado. If I know Jaime Lobo, that means he will +actually be back in two hours. You've got plenty of time." + +Eduardo took a bottle opener from his desk. "You'll get me in trouble," +he said. "We're not allowed to drink in the office." + +"Tell Escalante it was my fault," Hall laughed. + +"You'd better sign a sworn statement." + +"Tomorrow. Listen, Eduardo, there is something you must do for me. +Santiago has a file on a man named Marcelino Gassau. I want the whole +thing copied on microfilm, four negatives of everything in the file. Can +you have it done in your dark room tomorrow morning?" + +"Consider it done, Mateo." + +Rafael drank his beer and cursed the magazines for not having the +pictures of Ansaldo that Hall wanted. "Let's get back to work," he said, +impatiently. "Let's find the damned pictures if they're here." + +Hall and Santiago sat down at the desk and started to go through +individual issues of various fascist publications for the year 1938. +While they worked, Hall asked Santiago if he knew the Figueroa whom he +had to see in the Mexican Embassy. + +"He is a friend," the Spaniard said. "He is completely reliable. He will +do anything you ask within reason--and nearly anything that is without +reason at all." + +None of the men found the photo Hall was seeking by the time he was +ready to leave for General Lobo's headquarters. "I'll get you a taxi," +Eduardo said. "You can take a look at the AP ticker in the wire room in +the meanwhile. There might be some news on Tabio's condition." + +The wires reported that Tabio still breathed. + + * * * * * + +It was nearly midnight when Hall crossed the threshold of the brooding +stone building that was Secret Police Headquarters. Like all police +headquarters the world over, this one also smelled faintly of carbolic +and damp stone, a stench Hall had grown to detest in San Sebastian. He +walked briskly down the dark corridor which led to Lobo's office. + +A young lieutenant was sitting at the desk in the anteroom. "Mr. Johnny +Green Moon?" he asked, grinning. + +"Hello," Hall laughed. "You still here?" + +"Just a second." The lieutenant pressed a button on his desk. There was +a click in the electric door stop of the massive oak and iron door +behind the desk. "Go right in, Mr. Green Moon." + +Hall pushed the door open, stepped into the Spartan simplicity of Lobo's +private office, and quickly shut out the smell of carbolic by slamming +the door behind him. Lobo, who had equally good reasons for hating that +odor, had installed an American air-cleaning system in his own office. + +The young general--he was about three years younger than Hall--was +sitting at his tremendous carved desk and studying some papers. +"Johnny!" he shouted. "_Que tal?_" He was wearing a very formal white +dress uniform heavy with medals and gold braid. + +"Hello, Jaime," Hall said. "You look like an American Christmas tree." + +"Johnny, you dog! You took me away from a most beautiful reception." + +"Beautiful?" + +"A dream. Unbelievable! Four and twenty blonde Vassar girls dancing +around Lobo and wondering out loud if the handsome spik speaks English. +Sensational!" + +Hall had to laugh with the general. He could easily picture the effect +of Jaime Lobo's towering dark attractiveness--more than once in the +United States Hollywood talent scouts had begged him to sign +contracts--in the eyes of the American women one could find at a lavish +reception in Havana. "An American sugar king's party?" + +"No. The British business colony. It was stupendous." Lobo had lived in +the United States for five years, got a great kick out of scattering the +superlatives of Hollywood in his speech when he spoke English. + +"O.K.," Hall said, dryly. "It was super-colossal." He sat down in the +large armchair at the side of the desk, helped himself to one of Lobo's +cigars. + +"So you don't want to play," Lobo said, sobering and taking his own +seat. + +"Some other time, Jaime." + +"Sounds bad, keed. But tell me, Johnny, is it true that Don Anibal is +dying?" + +"He may be dead by now." + +"Ansaldo killed him?" + +Hall started. "What do you know about Ansaldo?" + +"I know he's a fascist pig. Why?" + +"Why? For the love of God, Jaime, if you can give me the proof, we +can ..." He told Lobo about the plans of Lavandero and the anti-fascists +in San Hermano. + +"I understand," Lobo said. "I've already sent for the dossier on +Ansaldo. It should be here in a few minutes. But while we're waiting, +there are a few things I'd like to show you." He opened the drawer in +his desk and took out an automatic wrapped in a brown-silk handkerchief. +"Take a look at this gun," he said, "but don't touch. I want to save the +fingerprints." + +"What about it?" Hall asked. + +"Oh, nothing. I thought you might know something about it. The hell with +it. But tell me, Mateo, when did you get to town?" + +"This evening." + +"Panair?" + +"Sure, why?" + +"Then you're staying at the Jefferson, registered as Victor Ortiz +Tinoco, eh?" + +"My God," Hall laughed. "That's my gun!" + +"That was your gun, _chico_. It is now Cuban Government Exhibit A in the +case against your brains. So you had it all figured out, my boy. You'd +come to Havana with fake papers, put up at an out-of-the-way hotel, +check your gun with the hotel management, shoot the Spanish Ambassador, +and then plant the gun in my back pocket and blow town on your +diplomatic Mexican passport. But you reckoned without two suspicious and +smart young second lieutenants from Oriente Province." + +"What was my fatal mistake, chief?" + +"Your accent and the cardinal stupidity of giving your attache case to +the desk clerk. He's a communist from Oriente. The weight made him +suspicious, and he called his friends in my office. Only he guessed from +your accent that you were a Spaniard, and that the gun was for the +purpose of shooting up the Mexican Embassy." + +"You know what Jefferson said about eternal vigilance being the price of +liberty, Jaime." + +"Sure. Jefferson and the natural shrewdness of a peasant from Oriente +Province. Of course the minute I saw the report describing Ortiz Tinoco +as a Spaniard with scars on the face, a broken nose, and big feet which +took him directly to the Casa de la Cultura, I knew it was Matthew Hall +in a beard." + +"Yeah. Of course my phone calls every fifteen minutes didn't give you +any idea." + +"They helped, my boy. I'll admit that." He took the envelope bearing +Androtten's pictures and fingerprints from his desk. "Who is this +individual? He looks as if he is very seriously dead." + +"I brought that envelope here for you, Jaime. He was shot three days ago +in San Hermano, but I'm afraid I broke his nose before he died. That +other picture of him with his family and the letter from the Dutch +Government-in-Exile might be more interesting." + +"Wilhelm Androtten? Sounds like a brand of gin. Why did you kill him?" + +"He's a Nazi, Jaime. He was trying to kill me." + +General Lobo took some notes as he listened to Hall's account of +Androtten's role in the Ansaldo mission. "I guess the first thing to do +is to find out if the letter from Queen Wilhelmina is genuine. But it +still wouldn't prove anything. The Nazi, if he was an agent, could have +picked the name Androtten from a casualty list and then written to the +Dutch Government in the name of the soldier's father. I'll check the +photos and the fingerprints here, and also with American F.B.I. and the +British. The F.B.I. has been very good lately. They've helped out +terrifically here with technical things." + +A green light on Lobo's desk began to flicker. "It's the file room," he +said. "I guess they have the Ansaldo dossier." He called the lieutenant +on the inter-phone, told him to bring in the Ansaldo dossier. + +The dossier was not very long. It told the story how, in the winter of +1938, a prominent Cuban Falangist in the best of health had suddenly +taken to bed with a "serious complaint." His family announced to friends +that they had sent to Spain for a great doctor, one Varela Ansaldo. They +said Ansaldo cured the Cuban, to be sure, but he also had long private +sessions with the leaders of the Falange at the Spanish Embassy and, +before he returned to Franco Spain, the Falange in Cuba had undergone a +complete shake-up of its leadership. There were pictures of Ansaldo, but +alone and in plain clothes. + +"Are these the only pictures?" Hall asked. + +"Perhaps not. We took about three thousand feet of movie film from the +Inspector General of the Falange for Latin America when he tried to +escape to Spain on a C.T.E. ship two years ago. Let's look at them, old +man." He pressed a key in his inter-phone box. "Pablo," he barked, "set +up those Villanueva films in the machine. I'm coming in in ten minutes." + +"I didn't think of that film," Hall confessed. "Every time you were +supposed to show it to me, something came up, remember?" + +Lobo was barking into the inter-phone again. "Teniente, scare up two +cold bottles of champagne for the theater, will you? We have a thirst +that is killing us." + +"Are you screening the film in a theater?" + +"No. It's a crime laboratory the F.B.I. installed for us. The whole +works. Wait till you see it, Matt. It's just like Hollywood. Colossal!" + +"And the champagne?" + +"That's my own contribution. I'll be damned if I can stop drinking +champagne in the middle of a party just because Johnny Green Moon drags +me out. Come on, let me show you the joint." He led Hall on a ten-minute +Cook's tour of the crime laboratory, his patter a slightly off-color +imitation of an American tourist guide's spiel. A small beaded screen +had been pulled down from the ceiling, facing two chromium-and-leather +lounge chairs. When the lieutenant brought in the champagne in two ice +buckets, General Lobo signaled the soldier in the tiny projection booth +to start the film. + +There was everything but a shot of Ansaldo. + +"He was too smart, the _cabron_," Lobo said. "Let's go back to my office +and think it over." He poured what remained of the champagne into Hall's +glass. + +On the way back to his office, he asked the lieutenant to join Hall and +himself. "Lieutenant," he said, "here are some pictures and data on a +man named Wilhelm Androtten, and some notes I made. Put them all through +the mill--our own files, F.B.I., the British. Check the papers and +letters of Villanueva and Alvarez Garcia for any reference to Varela +Ansaldo. And give me a report by noon tomorrow. Anything else you can +think of for the moment, Mateo?" + +"One thing. Those pictures of Gamburdo at the secret Falange dinner in +San Hermano. Remember it? I want about six microfilm negatives of each +shot." + +"Give them to me with your report, Lieutenant." + +The young officer accepted the papers, saluted smartly, and left. + +"There's one place in Havana where I can get that picture, Jaime," Hall +said. "The Spanish Embassy has a complete file of the Spanish _Arriba_, +and I'll stake my life on that picture of Ansaldo's being in that file." + +"So?" + +"Listen, Jaime, I don't know if I'll have to examine that file. I won't +know until some time tomorrow morning. There's an outside chance that +old man Nazario has the _Arriba_ we need in his collection at the +University. But please, Jaime, if I do have to go through the files on +Oficios Street, I don't want any of your excellent boys from Oriente +Province giving me a nice case of Cuban lead poisoning." + +Lobo, who had opened his collar and draped his long feet over his desk, +stopped smiling. He put his feet on the floor, buttoned the tunic +collar. "You don't understand," he said, speaking to Hall in Spanish for +the first time that evening. "In there, with the foolish movies, I make +foolish sayings. At the circus Lobo becomes the clown. But please +remember, Mateo, that I am a Latin American. My own people were driven +out of Spain by the spiritual forefathers of the Falange. I know what +will happen to Latin America if the Falange crowd wins out anywhere." + +"I know you do, Jaime." + +"I'm not always the playboy, Mateo. I know what my chief means to the +little nations of the Caribbean. I know what Don Anibal means to every +country south of Miami. I love Don Anibal. I love you because you love +my chief and my people and Don Anibal. _Claro?_" + +"Thanks, Jaime. Then you'll tell your men I'm O.K.?" + +"On the contrary, my friend. I must tell them much more than that." + +"Thanks. I'll try not to make any trouble. No international incidents." + +"If you don't have to shoot." Lobo became gay again. "Ay, Senor Ortiz +Tinoco," he sighed, "you might want to shoot, but you are without a +shooter to shoot with. My men are too good for you. They stole your +gun." + +"They are very good men, my general." + +"They have a good chief. But look, friend, in this drawer. I have a +treasure for you." He emptied the contents of a canvas bag on the desk. +"Ay, Senor Ortiz Tinoco, when I relieved Jefe Villanueva of his +super-production, I also took his gun. Such a wonderful little Swiss +automatic, built to be carried in a lady's purse or a horse's--ear. And +such a dainty Spanish leather shoulder holster. You would be a fool not +to accept this outfit in return for your gigantic cannon." + +Hall took off his jacket. "It's a deal," he said. "Help me get the +holster on." + +"Where are you going when you get the picture--if you get it, Mateo?" + +"Caracas. Someone is meeting me there." + +The General laughed. "Caracas? Ay, we'll get you back to Caracas in +style, _chico_." He opened his cigar box, held it out in front of Hall. +"By the way, Mateo," he said, "I never asked you before. Are you a Red?" + +"No. I'm a Red, White and Blue Kid. Why?" + +"Your government. Your embassy in San Hermano was sure that Pepe Stalin +was paying for your rice and beans. They asked your Embassy here to +check on you with me." + +"What did you tell them?" + +"Naturally, I told them that you were an agent. _Si_, senor! I told them +that you were a triple agent: mornings for the Kuomintang, afternoons +for the Grand Llama of Tibet, and evenings for the Protocols of Zion. +You'd better be careful when you get back to New York." + +"You bastard!" + +"Where are you going now? Me, I'm going right back to that party. I +promised a certain Vassar female, in my halting English, that I would be +back. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +"I'm going to the Casa de la Cultura." + +"Good. But listen, Mateo, give me at least five hours' notice if you +decide to do any scholarly research on Oficios Street, eh? _Vamonos._" + + + + +_Chapter sixteen_ + + +Don Anibal Tabio died at ten o'clock the next morning. He died on the +operating table, under Ansaldo's knife. + +Hall was in Santiago's office when Eduardo Sanchez called at eleven to +say that an AP flash had just come through in the newspaper's wire room. + +"Call me when the next bulletin comes through," he said, slowly. "We +have to know what Gamburdo and Lavandero are planning." Somehow, +although he had known for days that Tabio's hours were numbered, it was +hard to swallow his friend's dying on Ansaldo's terms. He was too +stunned to wonder how Gamburdo had finally won out. For a moment, there +was a sensation of sudden emptiness; this gave way to a sense of horror +and rage. + +"Poor Anibal," he said. "Charging the arrows of the Falange with only +the white plume of Truth in his thin hands." + +"He was your friend, wasn't he?" Santiago said. "He was a very great +man." + +"Yes." + +"Would you like a drink, Mateo?" + +"No, later. Call de Sola again. Tell him to hurry up. I'm going to the +Mexican Embassy. I have to leave an envelope with the secretary. I'll be +back in less than an hour." + +"_Bueno._" The Spaniard walked to the door with Hall. "There has been a +good change in you, Mateo," he said. "I remember the day when such a +blow would have sent you off like a wild bull. It is better to fight +them back the new way, no?" + +"You should know, Colonel Iglesias. You should know." Hall stopped off +at a bar on the way to his hotel for a quick double brandy to steady his +nerves. + +The manager of the Jefferson avoided Hall's eyes when he handed the +attache case back to him. "The senor will notice that the seal is +unbroken?" he asked. + +"It is a new seal," Hall said. "But be tranquil. I was present at Secret +Police Headquarters when the seal was broken. And please tell your clerk +that I am not angry with him." He put the case under his arm and took a +cab to the Mexican Embassy. + +There was more bad news when Hall returned to the Casa. The files of +Franco publications kept by Doctor Nazario at the University had also +failed to produce the needed picture of Ansaldo. And a messenger from +Eduardo Sanchez had brought for Hall a copy of the first AP bulletin +from San Hermano. + +Hall read the bulletin aloud for Santiago and Rafael. "The wily +bastard!" he said, reading how Gamburdo had decreed six days of official +mourning and a national election on the seventh day following Tabio's +death. "'As our beloved Educator's chosen deputy and successor, I can +promise the people of the Republic a continuation of the peace which was +ours under Don Anibal's wise leadership. I can promise that any +warmongers who would destroy this great blessing left to the nation by +Don Anibal will immediately feel the wrath of the government. It was +Anibal Tabio's last wish that our Republic be spared from suffering the +ravages of a war that is neither of our making nor of our choosing.'" + +"I hate politicos," Rafael said. "They are a stench in the nostrils of +decent people." + +"Tabio was a politico, too," Santiago said, sharply. "What else does it +say, Mateo?" + +"It says that the Radicals and the Nationals have already nominated +Gamburdo. The Progressives and the Communists are meeting this afternoon +to select Lavandero as their candidate, and the Socialists are asking +both candidates for guarantees against Bolshevism before making up their +minds. The Traditional Nationalist Action Party--that's the Cross and +the Sword--are out a hundred per cent for Gamburdo." + +"What the hell are the Socialists stalling for?" Rafael shouted. "Where +are their brains?" + +"You mean," Santiago answered, gently, "where is their socialism?" + +"Listen to this," Hall said. "'The body of the President will lie in +state for six days in the Great Hall of Congress. Acting President +Gamburdo has ordered a hand-picked elite corps of army and navy officers +to maintain a twenty-four-hour watch over the bier.' An elite corps for +Don Anibal! + +"And listen to this: 'In the name of the Republic, Acting President +Gamburdo thanked the noted surgeon, Varela Ansaldo, for his last-hour +effort to save the life of the late President, and announced that he +would recommend to the Congress that Dr. Ansaldo and his assistant, Dr. +Marina, be given formal decorations. Gamburdo revealed that Ansaldo, who +came to San Hermano at his urgent pleas, left the mourning capital at +noon on the first leg of a flying voyage to Lisbon where he is to +perform a delicate operation on a prominent jurist.'" + +"They got away!" Rafael said. + +"It's not so bad," Hall said. "That is, it won't be if ..." + +"Of course, Mateo. If we can pin the arrows on Ansaldo after this +statement," Santiago said, "it will be very hard for Gamburdo to explain +to anyone. Especially since you have that picture of Gamburdo at the +secret Falange dinner." + +"I have more than that. I have a copy of the report the Inspector +General of the Falange made about Gamburdo at that dinner, and it's +written on official stationery. We've just got to get more on Ansaldo!" + +"Are you still against raiding the Embassy, Rafael?" + +"I changed my mind. When do we do it? Tonight?" + +"I hope so, Rafael, you'll have to find Dr. More. I think you'll catch +him in at the clinic now. Tell him to get Rivas and bring him to his own +house in Vedado." + +Hall took out his wallet. "Here, Rafael, you'll need money for taxis." + +"Are you crazy, Mateo? This is a hundred-peso note." + +"You'll also need a new suit. They won't let you into the Spanish +Embassy in those clothes." + +"I'll buy my own clothes!" + +"Rafael," Santiago said, gently, "Hall is our _companero_." + +The boy began to blush. "I am sorry," he stammered, "but it is not my +way to accept such offers." + +"I don't offer it to a man," Hall said. "I gave it to an officer of the +People's Army. It is money intended to aid that army in its fight." + +"Hurry up, Rafael," Santiago said. "We will argue after we get out of +the Embassy--if we get out." + +"I've got to see Lobo," Hall said when Rafael left. "I've got to tell +him to ask the American Intelligence Service to check on Ansaldo's +movements in Lisbon. I don't think he is going to operate on any +Portuguese jurist or anyone else in Lisbon." + +"You'll make a fool of yourself, Mateo. You're not dealing with stupid +Spanish fascists like Franco and Gil Robles. You're dealing with the +German Nazis who run the Falange. I know them. They're too smart not to +have a patient waiting in bed for Ansaldo when he gets to Lisbon. Why +don't you see Lobo after our conference with Rivas? In the meanwhile, +I'd better get statements from de Sola and Carlos Echagaray on Ansaldo +and Marina." + + * * * * * + +Meeting Fernando Rivas in the home of the Cuban doctor, Hall was +reminded of what an acid-tongued Czech journalist said to him at Geneva +about Chautemps, a French politician. There was nothing wrong with the +politician, the Czech said, except that he had the face of a traitor. In +a city where the sun always shined, Rivas had the pallor of a skin which +never saw the sun. He sat tensely at the edge of the chair in More's +study, hands working a battered Panama, his puffy eyes darting furtive +looks at Rafael and Hall, men he had never seen before but whom he +obviously suspected of being agents of the Republican underground. Hall +thought: this is a man who can no longer know hate or love or anything +but fear. + +It was Santiago's show. He ran it on his own terms. From the outset, he +made it clear that he, or rather the Republic for which he spoke, was +giving the orders. They were given decently, temperately, but not +without the proof that force lay behind the commands. Rivas was to +address him as Colonel. "And these," he said, indicating Rafael and +Hall, "are my aides, Majors Juan and Pancho." + +"What is it you want of me, Colonel? There is nothing I would not do for +you." + +"For whom?" + +"For the--for the Republic." + +"What Republic?" + +"The Republic of Spain. The Republic of the Constitution of 1931." + +"And why should the Republic trust you now, Rivas?" + +"There is no reason, Colonel. I can ask only in the name of my family." + +Rafael had seen the older brother of Rivas die charging a German battery +near Bilbao. "It is not your privilege," he said. "I knew your brother." +Hall laid a restraining hand on his arm. + +"You betrayed your family when you betrayed your people," Santiago said, +softly. "It is not good enough. I must have a better reason." + +"State your own terms," Rivas said. "I will meet them." + +"Why?" + +The traitor took out a silk handkerchief, mopped his face. He suddenly +seemed to grow, to straighten his back. His head held high, he looked +each man proudly in the eyes. A moment earlier, his hands, his lips had +been quivering. Now they were firm and still. "Why?" he repeated in a +new, stronger voice. "Why?" He was fighting for one last chance, +fighting with his remaining reserve of dignity. "I'll tell you why, my +Colonel. Because I don't care whether I live or not. But I want to die +as a Spaniard, as a free man again. I want to die as a Republican. Is +that reason enough?" + +Colonel Santiago Iglesias was not a cruel person. He hated to play cat +and mouse with a human being, even with such as Rivas. But his first +responsibilities were to the Republic. "I hardly think so," he said, +speaking as an officer, although as a man he knew that Rivas had stated +a good reason, because he knew the reason to be true. "I hardly think +so, Rivas," he said. "Merely because the wife of a man who betrayed the +Republic turns out to be a whore is no reason for the Republic to love +him more." + +Fernando Rivas bent forward, as if he were trying to ward off a heavy +series of blows. "No," he said. "It is not reason enough." + +The thin body of Rafael Abelando shook with silent laughter for a +moment, and then it became still. The young major turned to Santiago, +his face filled with a sudden pity for the wreck of a man in the chair. +Hall caught the look, too, the admission of something Rafael would have +died rather than say out loud. The boy was ready to give the traitor +Rivas his last chance. It was the moment Santiago had been waiting for; +without Rafael's implicit confidence in his plan, he had all but decided +to call it off. + +"What do you think, Pancho?" + +Hall nodded agreement. + +"And you, Major?" + +"The hell with what I think. I'll do my thinking later. If he comes +through, I'll tell you what I think. If he funks out on us, I'll slit +his throat." + +"All right, Rivas," Santiago said. "We will give you your chance. We +need your help tonight." + +"Shall I come armed? I am an expert marksman, Colonel." + +"No. We shall carry the arms. You shall carry the key--or the keys. We +want to get into the third floor of the Embassy, and we want to get out +alive--and without shooting. Can it be done?" + +Rivas raised his head, stared into the faces of the three men who held +open the gates of the Republic. "I am willing," he said. "It might take +some planning, gentlemen, but it can be done." He held out his hand to +Santiago. The colonel accepted it. + +"I am glad you are with us," Santiago said. "In a sense, you are the +most fortunate of the four of us. You see, Rivas, if we should all get +killed tonight, yours would be the most lasting memorial." + +"But why me, Colonel?" + +Santiago picked a heavy manila envelope up from the floor. He took out +the photographs of the memoir on Franco's Spain that Rivas had written +in his own hand. "You see," he said, "if we should all die tonight, the +Casa de la Cultura will publish your excellent memoir--with a postscript +about your heroic sacrifice." + +"But how?" Rivas gasped. "Where?" + +"You are surprised, Rivas? Please let me assure you that there are many +of us. We are everywhere where _they_ are. _Claro?_" + +"I understand." For a fleeting moment Rivas had been back with the +Republic, a free man among free men. Now he was again a prisoner, but +with two jailers--Franco and the Republic. Now the Republic could force +the other to destroy him. "Yes," he said, "I understand." The Republic, +he knew, gave him his choice of executioners or his opportunity to fight +for his freedom. + +"Well?" + +"I am grateful," he said. "I am grateful for the chance to belong to the +Republic again." + +"Good. We must plan. Shall we drink on it?" + +There was a decanter of Scotch whisky on Dr. More's sideboard. Santiago +filled four glasses to the brim, then called for and filled a fifth +glass. "It is for the other who will be with us tonight," he said. +Eduardo was getting the affidavit on Ansaldo from the exile in Marianao. + +"To the Republic!" + +Hall watched Rivas drink his Scotch in one greedy, hysterical gulp. He +quietly filled the man's glass, shoved the bottle toward him. Rivas +downed the second Scotch, reached for the bottle, then changed his mind +as his hand was in mid-air. + +"Paper," Rivas said. "The desk. I must draw a floor plan of the +Embassy." + + * * * * * + +At eleven o'clock, Rivas let Santiago and his three friends into the +Spanish Embassy through the rear door. + +At ten-thirty, a large but unscheduled military parade started winding +through the streets of Old Havana. No one seemed to know what the parade +was about, but the soldiers in the ranks thought that it had something +to do with a surprise party being given to General Jaime Lobo to +celebrate his promotion in rank. It was his old regiment which had been +called out at nine that night and ordered into parade formation. + +At ten forty-five, the paraders were halted for some reason, and the +General's runners motorcycled down along the line of march and told the +bandmasters to keep on playing the liveliest of tunes. The order reached +the second band in the line just as it stopped in front of the Spanish +Embassy. + +A crowd gathered to listen to the band and watch the parade. Santiago, +Hall, Rafael and Eduardo casually detached themselves from this crowd at +precisely eleven. + +Rivas led them quietly up the back stairs. The blare of the brasses, the +booming of the drums, the crashing of the cymbals penetrated every +corner of the Embassy. "God is with us," he said. "The noise is +wonderful." + +Hall bit his tongue. A fat lot God had to do with it! He was crawling +behind Santiago, the Swiss automatic in the right hand cocked at his +hip. Eduardo was behind him, and ahead of Rafael. "Third floor," he +whispered. "We turn left at the head of the stairs and climb three +steps." + +Santiago pulled out his gun as they approached the third-floor landing. +He allowed Rivas to get a few steps ahead of him, to take the three +steps which led to the library. "Go in with Rivas," he whispered to +Hall. "You too, Eduardo." + +They followed Rivas into the dark room. He was standing near a draped +wall, motioning to them to follow him quietly. "Behind the drape," he +said. Eduardo closed in next to him. He frisked him for hidden knives or +guns. "Don't move," he said. + +Santiago joined Eduardo and Hall. "Rafael is covering the door," he +said. He motioned to Rivas to approach the drape. Eduardo remained at +the traitor's heels, the gun in Rivas's back. Hall knew what to do. He +waited until Santiago flattened himself out against the wall which +paralleled the drape, then he quickly drew the cloth to one side. He +found himself facing a large steel cabinet built into the wall. + +"Open." Santiago's fingers twirled an imaginary dial before his nose. +"Open it, Rivas." + +The frightened man who was both host and hostage raised his hand slowly, +fingered the dial, dropped his hand in disgust. He dried his sopping +fingers against the front of his jacket, tried again. The tumblers of +the lock rose and fell; the lock remained closed. Santiago slowly +released the safety catch of his pistol. "What passes?" he asked. + +"Ssh," Rivas pleaded. "I'll try it again." + +"Wait." Hall held a small bottle of brandy up to Rivas's face. "Take a +drink. It will steady your hands." + +"Many thanks." + +"Open it." + +"It's coming, Colonel." + +Santiago looked at the luminous dial of his wrist watch; eight minutes +gone. The band would not be under the window all night. He beckoned to +Hall. "That white door near the window, Mateo. He says you will find the +_Arribas_ in there perhaps." + +"I'll try it." + +"He's opened the steel door," Eduardo said. + +"Keep him covered." Santiago stepped in front of Rivas, opened the door +as wide as it would swing. He faced a multitude of locked steel drawers. + +"Let me," Eduardo said. He changed places with Santiago. He was good at +picking such picayune locks; the concentration camp on the Isle of Pines +was full of native fascists whose careers ended when Eduardo jimmied +open the locks that protected their secrets. He could crack them open +swiftly, almost noiselessly. + +"There's one," he whispered. "Two." + +"He has a talent," Santiago said to Rivas. + +Hall glided over to the white door of the closet. Like the others, he +wore soft-soled rubber shoes. He took a small oil can from his pocket, +saturated the hinges and the handle of the white door. Slowly, he opened +the wooden door. A book balanced precariously on an upper shelf behind +the door started to fall. He grabbed it with his left hand. A rash of +invisible pimples spread over his scalp. Too much noise that time, even +though the book didn't fall. He held his breath, counted to twenty. The +band was still blaring, the drums pounding away. Good old God! + +He ran the slim beam of the dime-store flashlight over the shelves. +_Informaciones, A.B.C._, ah, here, _Arriba_! He turned to signal to +Santiago that he had found it, but the colonel had again changed places +with Eduardo, was now emptying documents from the little steel drawers +to the inside of his shirt. + +Rafael, standing guard at the doorway, wildly signaled Hall to get to +work on the files. He pointed vigorously to the non-existent watch on +his narrow wrist. + +Hall dug into the _Arriba_ pile. He pulled the top of the 1938 batch to +the floor, sat down in front of them. April. May. June. Not here. +Impossible! He sneaked the remainder of the brandy into his throat. Once +again. April. He looked at Santiago, working calmly; light flickering +over the papers in the drawers, eyes selecting the wheat from the chaff. +The problem is April. It happened in April, 1938. Easy does it. April +One. April Two. Three. Four. Seven. Nine. No. No. Not yet. + +Santiago was in the middle of the room, his hands crammed with papers. +He beckoned to Rafael, stuffed batches of papers into the major's shirt. + +"Got the bastard!" Hall said. He forgot to whisper. He climbed to his +feet, a yellowing newspaper in his hands. "Got it!" + +A door opened on the floor above. "Rivas?" someone on the fourth-floor +landing called. + +Rafael was still in the room. Santiago held his shoulder, shook his +head. Stay here, he motioned. He signaled for Rivas, handed him his own +gun. He pointed to the third-floor landing, smiled at the man. + +The four men in the room covered the back of Fernando Rivas as he +advanced toward the landing, the warm gun gripped firmly in his sweaty +hand. They watched him stick his head out of the door, say, hoarsely, +"Yes. It's all right," the gun hidden behind his thigh. + +"What's all the noise?" Fourth Floor again. + +"Parade." + +"What are you doing there?" No suspicion--just conversation. Anyone +could see Fourth Floor only meant conversation. Anyone but Rivas. To a +man, the four behind Rivas prayed he would stall off the man above him +with a polite nothing. + +"None of your business, you fascist pig!" + +Over and above all the noises of the city, of the band on the corner, of +the hearts thumping in the breasts of the four men in the room there +fell a whining silence which was both hours long and seconds short. Then +the silence was shattered by the crashing explosions of two heavy +pistols. + +"Let me." Rafael ran to the doorway, flattened out against the wall. His +eyes took in the prone body of Rivas at the landing and the heap of man +sprawled on the stairs. Rivas was dead. His gun lay near his head. The +man on the stairs still held onto his gun. Rafael reached behind him for +the silent weapon, the weapon you used on lone forays into enemy +territory, on guards in concentration camps. + +The knife flashed over his head, pinned the hand with the pistol to the +wooden stairs. Behind the knife flew Rafael. Once again the blade was +raised, this time with a hand still on it as it descended. + +Eduardo pulled Hall's sleeve. "Quick," he said. "The stairs. Follow me." + +"All right," Rafael said to the dead Rivas, "now you're a Republican." + +The watch on Santiago's wrist read 11.29 when Rafael, the last man to +leave, melted into the crowd around the band. People on the sidewalk +could hear feet pounding heavily through the large empty rooms of the +Embassy. Lights were going on in all the dark windows. Yells. A woman's +scream. + +At the head of the parade, a baton twirled. The uniforms started to move +forward. The crowd on the sidelines followed the band. + + * * * * * + +Later, sitting in Lobo's office, the mass of documents from the shirts +of Santiago and Eduardo and Rafael on the desk before the general, Hall +remembered his outcry when he found the picture of Ansaldo and the Axis +officers giving the fascist salute. My "got it!" got poor Rivas, he +thought. I'm still an amateur at it. Santiago was good; found dynamite, +but he kept his mouth shut. Eduardo was good; cracked the locks and kept +his mouth shut. Rafael was good; finished off the bastard from the +Fourth Floor in seconds, and remembered to use a knife, and kept his +mouth shut until it was all over. Funny the way he stood over what +remained of Rivas and said, "All right, now you're a Republican." +Mocking, yet respectful. It was good; no forgiveness for the dead man's +treachery but respect for his insane courage. + +"It was a nice band concert, yes?" Lobo said. "Plenty of bim bam boom in +the drums. Tsing! Tsing! Cymbals. Tarantara, tarantara." + +"Sure." + +"I'm a one-man band, eh, keed?" + +"Colossal." + +"What's eating you, Matt? That little slob who killed himself with his +big mouth?" + +"It was my fault, Jaime. It was my big mouth." + +The General picked up a fistful of the documents which had cost the life +of Fernando Rivas. "What the hell is his life worth compared to the +lives of the hundreds of American seamen who now won't be sent to the +bottom by Nazi torpedoes in the South Atlantic? I'll say it again, Matt, +and if you'd stick around long enough, I could prove it. By tomorrow +morning I'll have at least twenty mucking bastards in the calabozo +thanks to what's in these papers; twenty fascist snakes who are the eyes +and the ears and the oil and the water of the Nazi subs in this part of +the ocean. You did it--and at the cost of only one second-rate life. +Isn't it worth it?" + +Hall was going through the documents on the desk. Bombshells, most of +them. + + _Mandato # 36: 1940. From: Inspector-General Delegacion + Nacional, del Servicio Exterior, de Falange Espanola + Tradicionalista de las J.O.N.S. To: Jefe Supremo, Falange de + San Hermano._ In Re: A.T.N. Effective immediately you will form + Accion Tradicionalista Nacional, to replace organization of + Falange ordered dissolved by the Jew-Communist betrayer, Tabio. + You will replace Yoke and Arrows with new symbol of Cross and + Sword. Until further orders, you will not enter Spanish Embassy + or consulates. _Camarada_ Portada will arrive with detailed + orders within thirty days. _Saluda a_ Franco! _Arriba_ Espana! + + _Mandato # 74: 1941, Servicio Exterior. Confidential_: + Enrique Gamburdo entered Tabio government with permission and + approval of the National Delegation of the Falange. _Camarada_ + Gamburdo is to be given the support and unquestioning loyalty + due an Old Shirt. There will be no exceptions to this order. + Signed ... + + _Orden # 107: 1941. Confidential_: Our heroic Japanese Allies + have today destroyed the Jew-Protestant-Marxist American fleet + in Honolulu. _Camaradas_ of the Cross and Sword must be + prepared to defend the wise peace policies of _Camarada_ + Gamburdo against the Jewish war mongers who will now try to + make the Kahal the government in San Hermano. El Caudillo has + shown how the Motherland can frustrate the war mongers. Do not + falter and delay the glorious hour of our final victory. + _Camarada_ Marcelino Gassau will soon arrive in San Hermano + with instructions on how to help the victory. Signed ... + +"Photograph these, will you, Jaime?" + +Lobo was sorting out the documents in rough piles. Sabotage. Espionage. +Undersea warfare. Guantanamo. Cuban politics. "The works," he grinned. +"In a week, this haul will have crammed our prisons with fascist rats. +If we didn't have to avoid treading on the toes of your State Department +these documents would be enough to put the Spanish Ambassador in the +calabozo and bring about a break with Franco. But even if it happens, +you won't be around to see it, Matt. You're leaving in exactly four +hours." + +"Four hours?" + +"Just a minute. That's my private phone. Yes, General Lobo speaking." He +put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Pick up the other phone. It's the +Spanish Ambassador." + +"O.K." + +"Yes, Mr. Ambassador?" + +"General! Something terrible has happened." + +"Terrible?" + +"There's been a murder in the Embassy. Someone broke into the Embassy +and shot one of our attaches. Communists, I think." + +"Is he dead? When did this all happen?" + +"Five minutes ago." + +Hall and Lobo looked at the wall clock. The hands showed ten minutes +after one. + +"Five minutes or hours, Mr. Ambassador?" + +"Minutes, General. It just happened." + +"Where did it happen?" + +"On the stairs. The back stairs, between the third and fourth floors. It +is terrible." + +"Who is the man?" + +"Elicio Portada, General Lobo. Poor Portada!" + +"Just a minute." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Listen to those +lies, will you? Only one body. Three hours to dispose of the Rivas +carcass and search the files. Did you leave them in much of a mess, +Matt?" + +"I don't remember." + +"It doesn't matter." The hand came away from the phone. "Hello. Yes, +this is still General Lobo. Mr. Ambassador, I have very serious news for +you. As the representative of a friendly neutral, I am sure we can count +on your co-operation." + +"What is it, General?" + +"We happen to have incontrovertible evidence that the late Elicio +Portada was connected with a Nazi-Falange ring in direct contact with +German submarine fleets in these waters. My immediate deduction is that +he was killed by members of this ring to keep him from confessing to us. +He was on the verge of making a complete confession." + +"What? It is preposterous! I shall protest to the Foreign Minister!" + +"Suit yourself, senor. Our evidence is incontrovertible. In the +meanwhile, thanks to your attitude as you now express it. I must remind +you that while the crime was committed on what is legally Spanish +territory, if you move the body one inch out of the Embassy grounds you +will be moving it on to Cuban national territory. Do you understand me? +Not one body is to be moved out of the Embassy without my consent. Not +one body, do you understand?" + +"My government shall protest your interference, General Lobo." + +"Let them. I'm sending two men over to the Embassy. Tell them what +happened. And make up a list of all of Portada's friends. We'll find the +murderer on that list, I'll warrant." He hung up the telephone with a +slam. + +"Let him sleep that off," he laughed. "My super-dooper crime laboratory +will prove that the Ambassador lied about the time of the shooting. My +super-sleuths will find bloodstains on the third-floor landing--and I +hope to Christ Rivas has a different blood type than Portada. My +super-sleuths will keep a straight face when the fascists hand them the +gun of the missing murderer. Then my colossal courtesy-of-the-F.B.I. +crime laboratory will find Rivas's fingerprints on the gun. Mystery: +where is Rivas?" + +"Have you got his fingerprints?" + +"Teniente," Lobo shouted into the inter-phone, "send those Einsteins of +crime to the home of Fernando Rivas of the Spanish Embassy. Bring back +fingerprints: best place to find them is liquor bottle, razor, hair +brush--and do it fast." + +"Good going." + +"I'll teach that fascist bastard to tell me nursery tales on the +telephone at one in the morning." Lobo was growing genuinely indignant. +"God, how I wish you didn't have to leave town, Matt. I'm going to be +running a circus for the next two weeks!" + +"I'll take a rain check on it, Jaime. Maybe I can come back in time for +the closing day." + +"Who knows?" Lobo sent for his aide, ordered microfilm copies of the +documents to be ready in four hours. "And bring me the special belts and +harnesses, Teniente." + +"Did you get me a seat on a Panair plane? I thought Figueroa would take +care of that." + +"Better than that, my boy." Lobo crossed the room, opened a panel in the +wall. It revealed a closet filled with uniforms. "Get into one that +fits, Mateo. I have a seat for you on a Flying Fortress headed for +Caracas." + +"_Yanqui?_" + +"_Yanqui._ You're traveling as Major Angel Blanco of my confidential +staff. You are going south for me on a most delicate mission. You speak +very little English, and you stink from pomade. Besides, you wear these +thick glasses and you've been out on such a night of wild Latin +debauchery that you sleep most of the time. In short, you are the +Anglo-Saxon's dream of the stupid, conceited, lecherous Latin officer +who can't hold his liquor." + +"_Claro._ I'm repulsive." + +"Yes, but you are also a walking microfilm file, only no one knows it. +Your belt, your Sam Browne harness, the lining of your short boots, the +inside of the visor of your cap are filled with identical sets of +microfilms. Your pouch carries a letter from me to a General XYZ in +code--and God preserve the sanity of anyone who attempts to uncode it. +It will add up to precisely three tons of _mierda de caballo_." + +Hall found a uniform that fit him. He got into it, smeared the proffered +pomade into his black hair. "Do I carry any baggage?" + +"We'll pack you a bag. Two extra uniforms, pictures of your wife, your +mistress, and your mother, a pound of pomade, a few copies of the +_Infantry Journal_--it will be all right." + +"I can imagine. But before I go, Jaime, there's something I don't quite +get. Why did the Spanish Embassy crowd have to hide Rivas's body? Why +couldn't they admit that he did it?" + +Lobo adjusted Hall's tunic. "Elementary, my dear Watson," he said. "The +Portada blighter was sleeping with the Rivas bloke's wife. It's the +Ambassador's job to avoid scandals within the happy family. Admitting +Rivas killed Portada over a rag, a bone, and a hank o' hair would be a +confession the Ambassador couldn't run his own show. Elementary?" + +"No. You're improvising, and the notes sound all wrong. Let me know +about it when you really find out, Sherlock." + +"Come back in two weeks." General Lobo yawned, stretched his long frame. +"I'll take you to the American air base myself," he said. "I'll +introduce you and act as your interpreter. And after you take off, +you'll be on your own. Who's meeting you in Caracas, by the way?" + +"Major Diego Segador. Know him?" + +Lobo smiled. "You'll get through," he said. "Segador has nine lives, +each of them tougher than the side of a battleship. Ask him to tell you +what we did to those three Nazi heavyweights in San Souci in '39. _Madre +de Dios_, Mateo, it was carnage!" + +Twenty steps down the corridor, a Negro technician was focusing a sharp +lens on page three of _Arriba_ for April 27, 1938. The picture which +spread across four columns of the top of the page was remarkably like +the picture Hall had carried in his mind since that day with Jerry in +San Hermano. The fans in the negative dryer were whirring over +twenty-odd other negatives. Lobo was right, Hall realized. They were +worth the life of one Rivas, they might yet take the life of a Hall. The +stakes were worth the risk. Kill the beast in San Hermano, drive a knife +into its arteries, keep it from crawling north and its foul breath +beginning to stink up the clean air. Kill, so you can live again, kill, +so you can go back to Ohio when the beast was dead, and have children +and not worry that some day they'd have to kill or be killed too. Kill +for the same reasons the Rafaels and the Santiagos and the Lobos kill +and you'll never have to lose a night's sleep. + +"What are you thinking, Mateo?" + +"I'm thinking of the girl I'm going to marry in two weeks." + +"_Hijo de la gran puta!_ He's in love, too! Let's go to the laboratory. +We've got a lot to do before you go." + + + + +_Chapter seventeen_ + + +The American Army plane banked sharply over the blacked-out Caracas +field. Three times the four-motored ship circled the airport, breaking +its speed, rousing the men who controlled the lights along the correct +runways. During the second time around, Hall thought he saw a Douglas +with the bright green-and-white flag on its wings. He was not so sure +the third time. + +The pilot brought his ship in gently. It rolled down the new concrete +strip, a silver juggernaut in a cloud of red dust. Hall climbed out, +gave the captain a silver cigarette case as a souvenir of the trip. The +plane was not through for the night; it was to take on more fuel and +proceed to a base farther south. + +Hall went to the small operations building. He showed his papers to a +sleepy official, had his passport stamped. "That Douglas on the other +end of the field," he said to the official, "is that the plane from San +Hermano?" + +The official didn't know. He offered to find out. "It is not of +importance," Hall said. He left his bag with the official. "I will be +ready to go to the city as soon as the American plane takes off. Is that +car for me?" + +He went out to the field, stood chatting with the American flying +officers as they stretched their legs and smoked while their plane was +readied for the next leg of their flight. The boys were an agreeable +surprise, or they had a C. O. with brains; each of them spoke some +degree of Spanish, and to a man they were polite to the "Cuban officer" +who had made the trip with them. It was a decent, non-condescending +politeness. + +"I am going to ask General Lobo to thank you all for your kindness," he +said. "You are, as they say in English, _damn regular guys_!" + +The young captain, who had given Hall his life history and his Seattle +home address, was touched. "Aw," he said, "we're just ordinary Yanks, +Major Blanco. Don't forget to look me up if you ever get to Seattle +after the war. Then I'll show you some real hospitality. _Entiende?_" + +"Oh, I understand perfectly, Captain. And you must visit me, too. You +can always reach me through General Lobo." Hall, who had calmly +appropriated the story of Lobo's boyhood and palmed it off on the +captain as his own during the flight, began to laugh. "Oh, yes, +Captain," he said, "we will have the most amazing reunion after the +war." + +"Well," the American pilot said, "we're shoving off now." + +Hall exchanged salutes and handshakes with the Fortress crew. "_Hasta +pronto_," he shouted, as the last man climbed aboard. He remained where +he stood, waving at the Americans, when he saw the outlines of Segador's +thick shoulders emerging from the lighted doorway of the administration +building. Segador was walking toward the Douglas. + +He approached Hall, glanced at the Cuban uniform for a second, and +continued on his way to the parked plane. There was no hint of +recognition. + +"Pardon me," Hall said to Segador, "have you a match, please?" + +"Of course." + +"Ah, Major, I see the stamp of the government match monopoly. Would you +be from San Hermano, by any chance?" + +In the darkness, Segador's hand crept toward the huge pistol in his +holster. Hall held the unlighted match in his fingers. It was +unbelievable; he was still unrecognized. He had been speaking to Segador +in a disguised voice. "It is a very black night," he said in his normal +voice. + +"Yes--Colonel." + +"Thank you, but it's major. Major Angel Blanco of the Cuban Army, +senor." Then he struck the match, held it close to the cigar in his +mouth. + +"_Madre de Dios!_ It's you!" + +"Who the hell did you think it was, Diego? Wilhelm Androtten?" + +"I am a fool. But the uniform, the glasses--this confounded +blackness...." + +"Is that the plane?" + +"Yes. We can't take off until morning. I can't trust the night flying +instruments. Was it worth the trip?" + +"_In spades_," he said, in English. + +"It was successful?" + +"Very much, Diego. I found the picture. I found other things." He told +him about the documents on San Hermano which Santiago had taken from the +steel boxes. "If we stand behind the plane can we be seen by anyone?" + +"No. Only by my men in the cabin." + +"Good." They walked farther into the blackness, put the plane between +themselves and any eyes that might be watching them from the field +buildings. "Quick," Hall said, "give me your belt and take mine. It is +loaded with a complete set of negatives." + +The exchange was completed in seconds. "I've got three duplicate sets +hidden on my person," Hall said. "Now they'll have to kill both of us to +stop the truth from reaching San Hermano." + +"I'm sleeping in the plane," Segador said. "You had better sleep in +town. Did you arrange for a hotel, Mateo?" + +"Lobo arranged a room for me through the Cuban Legation. There's a +diplomatic car at the gate now, waiting to take me to town. What time do +we start out?" + +"A minute after sunrise." + +"I'll be here. Can I bring anything from the hotel? Hot coffee? Beer?" + +"No. We have everything. Even," he looked up at the plane and smiled, +"even machine-gun belts." + +Hall followed his eyes. He found himself facing the twin barrels of the +machine guns in the side panel of the Douglas. There was a young soldier +at the firing end of the guns. + +"You do well, Sergeant," Segador said. "At ease." + +"Can he use them, Diego?" + +"He is a fantastic shot, that boy. He was in Spain. But you will meet +him tomorrow." + +"All right. But tell me one thing, if you can. It's been bothering me +for days. How did Ansaldo...?" + +"Don't. I hate to think of it, Mateo. The fascists put us all in a +bottle. _El Imparcial_ ran a big story on the front page--they charged +that Don Anibal's only chance for life lay in an operation by Ansaldo. +They also hinted that selfish politicians were tying Ansaldo's hands. +The Cabinet had to capitulate." + +"And Lavandero?" + +"He didn't vote." + +"Poor Anibal! What was it that finally killed him?" + +Segador savagely bit the end off a cigar. "His faith in scoundrels!" he +said, vehemently. "Enough, Mateo. Shut up before I--I ..." + + * * * * * + +Hall rode into town, had dinner sent up to his room. For an hour or so, +he read the local papers. Then he turned out the lights, took off his +tunic, opened his shirt collar, and put the Sam Browne belt with the +hidden pockets on the bed beside him. It was to be a night of rest +without sleep, a night of relaxing on the unmade bed with a hand never +farther than six inches from one of his two guns. Twice during the long +night he took benzedrine pills to keep awake. There could be no sleep +until the plane was well under way. + + * * * * * + +The two-motored Douglas was warming her engines when the Cuban +diplomatic car delivered Hall to the airport. "Drive right over to that +bomber," he ordered. "Fast." + +"Hey," he shouted before the car could skid to a stop, "taking off +without me?" + +Segador, freshly shaven, stepped to the doorway of the plane. "No. Get +on board. We were waiting. Toss me your grip." + +Hall tipped the driver of the car with a five-dollar note. "Give me a +hand, Diego. I'm not an antelope." Segador and the young sergeant pulled +him into the cabin. + +"Meet my crew. Major Blanco--First Pilot Captain Millares, Co-Pilot +Navigator Lieutenant Cuesta, Sergeant Mechanic Ruiz. They are a picked +crew, and they know what is at stake in this flight." + +The flying officers were at the controls. They saluted Hall, bade him +welcome. "Snub Nose says we can take off," the captain told Segador. + +"Then let's take off. Snub Nose, give Blanco a hand with his safety +belt. His hands are stiff." + +The wiry little sergeant fastened Hall's belt. "A lot of good it will do +you if we ground-loop, Major," he grinned. + +This one was a Spaniard. Hall knew it at once. Young, no more than +twenty-five, but very dry behind the ears. "_Chico_," he said, "if we +crash and I get hurt I'll murder you." + +"You terrify me." Snub Nose was laughing with the animal glee of sheer +happiness in being alive. "But I like you. I brought a bucket along just +for you when you get air-sick." + +"That's enough out of you, General Cisneros!" the first pilot yelled +into the microphone in his fist. "Come on up to the office and stop +bothering your betters." + +"Call me when you feel sick," the boy roared at Hall, his strong-timbred +voice rising above the blasts of the engines. He went up forward, stood +behind the pilots as the big plane taxied into position and took off. + +"I examined the negatives last night," Segador said. "They are worth all +they have cost. Were they very hard to get, Mateo?" + +"Two lives. But one was a doomed life. It was not hard." + +"Feel like sleeping?" Segador pointed to an inflated rubber pallet in +the bomb bay. + +"I could use a few hours of sleep," Hall admitted. He made his way to +the pallet, covered himself with an army greatcoat. + +He slept heavily, waking only to eat, to stretch his legs once when they +landed to refuel and show their papers to a new set of officials, and, +finally, when Segador shook him and told him to put on his parachute. + +"We're near the border," Segador said. He had a map and a heavy black +pencil in his left hand. "Can you put it on?" + +Hall had worn similar chutes while flying with the R.A.F. over France. +He waved Snub Nose away with a derisive gesture. "Back to your nursery, +_chico_," he said to the sergeant. "I was wearing chutes when you were +in diapers." + +"I'm sorry," Snub Nose said, deliberately misunderstanding, "we can't +give you a diaper, senor. Just make believe you're wearing a diaper if +you have to jump." + +Hall looked out of the window. The late afternoon sun was beginning to +wane. + +"Look," Segador said, making a mark on the map. "We are here now. I'd +planned on crossing our own borders just after dark. But we had a strong +tail wind all the way. We're ahead of time." + +"Good." + +"It's not so good, Mateo. Most of the army is loyal, but for the last +two months Gamburdo has been bringing the Germans back into the army." + +"Germans?" + +"We call them the Germans. I mean the sons of the _estancieros_ and the +_senoritos_ who became officers under Segura while he had his Reichswehr +experts running the army. Tabio kicked them out, but he neglected to +shoot them. The bastards are everywhere now. We have to assume that they +know I left the country in a Douglas bomber. You might have been +recognized in Havana or in Caracas by Falangist agents. The Germans are +also able to put two and two together." + +"I was very careful." + +"But it cost two lives." Segador flipped a switch on the panel in front +of his seat. "Attention, everyone," he said into his microphone. +"Lieutenant, how soon before we reach the national border?" + +"If we maintain our air speed, Major, we are due to cross the border in +less than forty minutes." + +"Good. Come back here, please." Then, while the co-pilot left his seat +up front and started back to the seats near the bomb bay, Segador +continued talking. "Captain, you know what we must expect. The fliers +are all loyal; I don't think they would shoot down one of our own planes +without permission of their chief. But there are too many Germans in the +A-A arm. We may have trouble from the ground." + +"I can fly higher, sir. We are now at seven thousand." + +"Take her up to nine." He turned to the navigator. "How much will that +put between our belly and the mountain tops at the border?" + +"Three thousand, Major." + +"Not enough." + +"We can climb higher and fly on oxygen," the captain suggested. + +"No. We've got to take this chance," Segador said. There was not enough +oxygen on board, and only the major knew that this was because the chief +of the air arm feared the new officers who handled the oxygen depot. + +"Navigator, take a look at my map." The pencil traced a straight line +extending two hundred miles across the border. "Is this our course?" + +"Yes, Major. We are flying on course now." + +"Thanks." Segador looked at his watch, extended the pencil line another +hundred miles into the country. "Snub Nose--how much flying time is left +in our fuel tanks?" + +"Three hours." + +The point of the pencil came to rest at the end of the line Segador had +drawn on the map. "Can we make this point on our gas and still have +enough left to fly back to San Martin Airport _from the north_? It would +mean flying a wide circle." + +The navigator studied the map. "It can be done, sir." + +"Good. Mateo, my plan is to drop by parachute with the negatives at this +point. The plane is then to return and land at San Martin. You will then +make your way to San Hermano by train and go directly to Gonzales by +car." + +"Will I be followed?" + +"I have a man at San Martin. He will guide you." + +"And you?" + +"With luck, I'll be in San Hermano before you." + +"All right." + +"Nine thousand," the captain said. "Border ahead." + +"Pour on the coals. Take your stations, men." Segador patted Snub Nose +on the back as the youngster crawled into the glass bubble below the +pilot's feet. The navigator went to the guns in the rear. "Stay here, +Mateo," Segador ordered. He climbed into the mid-ship gun turret. + +Hall had once been accustomed to being human super-cargo on board a +fighting plane. This time the feeling irritated him. For want of +something better to do, he took down a tommy gun from a rack near +Segador's seat and examined it for dust and grease. It was immaculately +kept. He laid it across his lap. + +"Crossing the border now," the pilot announced. + +The plane shot across the heavily wooded mountains, left them well +behind in fifteen minutes. Hall followed the fading shadows of the plane +as it sped over the foothills. In a few minutes, darkness would blot out +the shadows, and then he would again know the strangely exhilarating +feeling of being alone in the skies at night. + +"Lieutenant," Segador said, "go up front and check the course." + +The major and the sergeant remained at their guns. "More hills ahead," +the navigator explained to Hall as he passed. + +"No lights," Segador ordered. + +Hall walked forward, stood behind the men at the instruments. The +navigator was making his readings under a shielded blue light. Millares, +the pilot, pulled back on his stick, slightly, begging altitude at a +minimum loss of air speed as he climbed to put more distance between the +plane and the string of lower hills which lay across their course. + +The navigator suddenly became very busy at his radio. "Major," he said +into his microphone, "we are being called by a ground station. They've +spotted us. They want to know who is in command, and what flight this +is." + +"Stick to your course," Segador answered. "Maximum speed." He crawled +back to the main cabin. + +"What shall I answer, Major?" + +"Don't answer them. We'll just act as if we didn't pick up their +signal." + +"Yes, Major. They're repeating their request." + +"Mateo," Segador said, "this is very bad. I don't know who controls the +ground station. We can't take chances. I'm jumping as soon as it gets +dark." + +"That's a matter of minutes." + +"I know. Navigator, the plan remains the same, except that I jump in ten +minutes. Ignore all ground challenges on your way back to San Martin." + +"I'm jumping with you," Hall said. + +"No, you're not." + +"If they shoot us down on the way back to San Martin, the negatives will +fall into their hands, if they're not destroyed." + +"Suppose we both jump and are both caught?" + +"It's a chance I'd rather take, Diego." Hall opened the secret pocket in +the visor of his Cuban Army cap. "Let me leave this set of negatives +with Snub Nose. I have two more sets on me--in my Sam Browne and my +boots." + +"I have to think about it." Segador adjusted the harness of his +parachute. Then he picked up his microphone. "Snub Nose," he ordered, +"come back here. Adjust the _companero's_ parachute. He's jumping with +me." + +"_Bueno._ I'll show him how to use it, too." + +Hall and Segador formally shook hands with the rest of the crew before +they jumped. + +For a few long seconds, plunging face downward, Hall could not think. He +saw the plane pass over his feet, silver wings etched against the dark +ceiling. He counted to seven, aloud, his voice lost in the wind. Then he +pulled the release cord. There was the expected moment of tensing pain +as the silk clawed at the night air and the straps of the harness cut +into the insides of his thighs. In his mind's eye there was a picture he +had forgotten: a sand-bagged office in London on a bright May morning, +the English girl with the yellow crutch under her arm as she handed him +the mail. Tear sheets on the series he'd done in Scotland. _Copyright +1940 by Ball Syndicate Inc., Somewhere in England, April 19, 1940._ This +morning I took my place in line inside of a converted Lancaster, watched +the man in front of me lean out and tumble into the clear sky, and then +did exactly as he had done. I counted to ten, pulled my release cord, +and ... And what a hell of a pseudo-romantic way to make a living, he'd +said to himself and to the English girl that morning. + +But tonight there was nothing phony about sitting in a canvas sling, +falling through a wet cloud, eyes peeled for the white of Segador's +parachute. Tonight he was no Sunday supplement kibitzer taking a joy +ride amidst men rehearsing for death. Tonight he was finally in the war, +as a combatant. + +The tricks he had learned in Scotland served him in good stead now. He +was able to play the cords of the parachute, guiding the direction of +his descent so that he followed Segador. There was little time to think +of anything but the operation of the moment. Fortunately, it was a green +night. Like Segador, Hall could see from a thousand feet that they were +dropping over a sloping meadow. At about two hundred feet, they could +see that they were going to land in the middle of a flock of sheep. + +The sheep began to bleat madly and run about in circles, as first +Segador, then Hall, dropped into their pasture. Segador broke free of +his silk, ran over to help the American. "Careful," he said. "With so +many sheep, there must be a herder around. Let me do the talking." + +A man in a woolly sheepskin cape was following a cautious sheep dog +toward the spot where they stood. He carried a rifle. + +Segador allowed the shepherd to approach to within fifty feet. "_Hola!_" +he called. "We have disturbed your flock." + +The shepherd said something to his dog, continued advancing slowly +toward the two men from the sky. + +"He is afraid we might be Germans," Segador said. "They hate the Germans +worse than the devil in the country." + +"Who are you?" The shepherd was now quite close to them. Hall could see +at once that he was a Basque. + +"Vasco?" Hall asked. He poured out a stream of Basque greetings. They +served only to put the shepherd more on his guard. + +"I saw you fall from the skies--like _quintacolumnistas_." + +"That is true, _companero_," Segador said. "But we are not fifth +columnists." + +"Are you of the Republic?" + +"Yes." + +"The other. He is not of the Republic. His uniform is different, and he +speaks the tongue of my fathers badly." + +"He is of the Republic of Cuba. He is a friend of our Republic." + +"You both have guns," the herder said. He looked at his dog, who stood +between him and the intruders. "If you are friends, you will give your +guns to the dog. I am without letters, but if you are friends, you can +prove it to an educated man in our village." + +"What is your village?" + +"You have guns." + +"They are yours, _companero_. See, I take mine. I lay it on the ground +for your dog." + +The shepherd addressed his dog in Euzkadi. The dog walked over to the +gun, picked it up in his mouth, dropped it at the peasant's feet. He +then made a trip for Hall's gun. + +"You will walk in front of me," the shepherd said. "We will go toward +that stile." He picked up the two pistols, shoved them into his skin +bag. + +Segador started to laugh. "I salute your vigilance, shepherd. We had two +guns to your one. We could have shot you first. A coward would have run +for help, first." + +"Cowards do not serve the Republic," the shepherd said. He remained ten +feet behind them, ignoring Segador's further attempts at conversation, +marching them toward a thatched hut on the outskirts of a tiny village. +When they approached the hut, the dog ran ahead, started to scratch on +the unpainted door. + +An Indian woman with a mestizo baby in her arms stood in the doorway +when the three men reached the hut. "Let them in, woman," the shepherd +ordered. + +The inside of the small hut was dark and bare. On a pallet in the far +corner, Hall could see the forms of children huddled in sleep, how many +he could not tell. There was a stone stove, a hand-hewn table and two +benches. In another corner, a fragment of a tallow candle burned +fitfully under a dim portrait. Hall realized, with an inward start, that +the portrait was not of Jesus but of Anibal Tabio. + +"Hold the gun." + +The woman put the baby on the pallet with the other children, took the +rifle in her hands. + +"If you are of the Republic," the shepherd said, "you will allow me to +tie your hands." + +"We are of the Republic--and for the Educator, who is now dead." + +The woman, who held the gun, backed away, closer to the picture, while +her husband bound the hands of Segador and Hall behind their backs, and +then connected all four hands with a third length of rope. + +"Send your woman for the educated man," Segador said. "But hurry. We are +on a mission for the Republic. We must not be delayed too long." + +The shepherd took the gun from his wife. "Go then," he said to her. +"Bring Bustamente the Notary to this house." + +Two of the children on the pallet were now sitting up, staring at the +visitors with wide, frightened eyes. Segador grinned at them. His eyes +were growing accustomed to the darkness. "Go back to sleep, _ninos_," he +whispered. "We will play with you when you awake." + +The kids ducked under the woolly coverlet, hiding their heads. + +"Sit down," the shepherd said. "If you are friends, I will offer you the +hospitality of this table." He started to roll a cigarette out of a +fragment of newspaper. + +"There are cigarettes in my pocket," Hall suggested. "Cuban cigarettes. +Perhaps you would like one." + +The shepherd rose from his own bench without a word, found the +cigarettes, put two in the mouths of Hall and Segador. He struck a rope +lighter, started their cigarettes. Then, still without speaking, he +finished rolling his own cigarette and lit it. "If you are fifth +columnists," he said, "I spit on your cigarettes." There was no rancor +in his statement; it was a polite expression of simple logic. + +His wife returned in a few minutes. She was with a nervous little +white-haired man who clung to the waistband of his alpaca trousers. He +carried a shiny alpaca jacket in his free arm--this and the steel-framed +glasses on his ancient nose were his badges of authority. + +"This is Bustamente the Notary," the shepherd said. + +Bustamente fingered his glasses. "Yes," he said, alive to the importance +of the moment. "I am the Notary." He squinted down his nose at the two +men. + +"Major Diego Segador, of the Republic. And this is my colleague, Major +Angel Blanco, of the Cuban Army." + +"They fell from the sky," the shepherd said. "Like fifth columnists." + +"Is that true, Your Eminences?" Bustamente the Notary was taking no +chances. + +"It is true." + +"And you have papers?" + +"We have papers. Mine are in here. And yours, Major Blanco?" + +The Notary adjusted his glasses, turned to the papers while the +shepherd's wife held a candle over them. "Ay," he said. "They look real. +Yes, I must admit they look real. On the other hand, I must also admit +that I have never seen real Cuban papers." This was indeed a problem for +the Notary. He scratched his chin, importantly, cleared his throat with +a rumbling hawk. "What do you think, Juan Antonio?" + +"I am without letters," the shepherd said. + +"I must admit," the Notary said, not without sadness, "I must admit that +I have never seen real papers of our own army." + +"Please," Segador said, "it is important that we get to San Hermano. Is +there anyone in this village who is not for the landowners or the mine +owners or the Germans who has seen real papers? I ask this in the name +of Don Anibal Tabio, in whose name we undertook our mission." + +"Justice will be done," said Bustamente the Notary. "This is the era of +justice, my good friends." He tried to punctuate his pronouncement with +Tabio's famous gesture. To do this he had to release his waistband, and +his trousers started to fall to his knees. From the pallet came a +choking snicker. + +"Silence!" Juan Antonio hissed to the kids on the dark pallet. "Show +respect for Bustamente the Notary." His wife, at the same time, restored +the Notary's dignity by handing him a length of cord to use as a belt. +He fixed his trousers and then made the moment truly solemn by putting +on his jacket. + +"I am sure the Notary will dispense the justice of the Republic," the +shepherd said. + +"_Hombre!_ This is very serious," Bustamente the Notary whispered. It +was a loud stage whisper. "We must consider our decision with careful +seriousness, Juan Antonio." He stepped outside of the hut. + +Hall could hear his discussion with the shepherd. "The one who claims to +be of us," the Notary said, "he does not talk like an enemy of Don +Anibal, Mayhissoulrestinpeace. How does the other talk?" + +"I do not know. He tried to speak in Euzkadi. It is not his tongue." + +"It is, in a sense, suspicious then. But we must not be hasty. Justice +begins in the village." The phrase was Tabio's. + +"What are we to do, Senor Notary?" + +"The laws of the Constitution of the Republic guarantee justice to all +suspects, Juan Antonio. Please tell me all you know about the two +officers." + +He listened to the simple recital of the facts. "Ay, it is as I have +observed, _amigo_. There is much to be said on both sides. If they were +Germans or fifth columnists, perhaps they would have shot you first. On +the other hand, since neither of us has ever seen a Cuban uniform, how +can we tell? And if they are ours, why did they drop from the sky into +the middle of a flock of sheep?" + +"It is very deep, Senor Notary." + +"Let us talk softer, Juan Antonio. Perhaps they can hear us inside." + +They moved farther from the doorway, conversed in whispers for a few +minutes, and then they started to walk down the dirt street of the +village. Hall and Segador sat patiently, without exchanging a word. +Once, while they waited for the shepherd and the Notary, Segador told +Hall with a look that he thought everything was going to be all right. +Then the two villagers returned with two horses and two donkeys. + +"We have decided," said Bustamente the Notary, "that in the interests of +full justice we must take you to see the school teacher in Puente Bajo. +He will know what to do." + +Segador sighed with relief. "Thank you, Senor Notary," he said. "And +thank you, _Companero_ Shepherd. I am certain that your decision is the +wisest one could make, and that we shall receive ample justice from the +school teacher of Puente Bajo. But tell me, how far is the village from +here?" + +"It is less than five miles, Major." + +"I am content." + +The shepherd undid the cord that connected the bound hands of Hall and +Segador and, because their hands were still tied behind their backs, he +helped them mount the donkeys. He and the Notary climbed into the wooden +saddles of their small horses, fastening the donkeys' leads to their +pommels. + +Segador smiled at Hall, whose donkey was being led by the shepherd. +"Wonderful," he said. "Sancho leads the noble Don home from an encounter +with the sheep." + +"Please, gentlemen," Bustamente the Notary said, sharply, "you are not +to address one another. Justice begins in the village, and +justice"--again he aped Don Anibal's gesture--"and justice will be +done." + +"We bow to your authority in matters of justice," Segador said, gravely. + +He and Hall sat in silence as the convoy cut across a meadow on the +slope and turned toward the outlines of a larger village in the valley. +They jogged toward the dim yellow lights of Puente Bajo, the shepherd +piercing the night quiet with the curses he flung at the heads of the +donkeys every time they balked. + +At the outskirts of the town, Bustamente the Notary ordered a halt. "I +have been thinking," he said. "It is my feeling that if the two on the +donkeys are of the Republic and innocent, then we will have committed an +offense against their sacred dignity if we lead them into Puente Bajo +fettered on mangy donkeys. I have therefore come to the conclusion that +perhaps it would be better for me to ride on alone to the school and +bring the teacher back to meet us here, by the road." + +"I can agree," the shepherd said. "But wait until I tether their +donkeys." He dismounted, led the donkeys to the side of the road and +tied their forefeet to lengths of rope he fastened to a strong tree. + +"Would you want one of your own cigarettes?" he asked Hall. + +"Yes. Many thanks. And one for Major Segador, too. And please take one +for yourself." + +The shepherd declined with a serious face. "First," he said, "I must +hear what the school teacher has to say about you. He is wiser, even, +than Bustamente the Notary." + +Bustamente the Notary and the man who was acknowledged to be even of +more wisdom than he returned out of breath; the school teacher from +trotting after the short horse and the Notary from talking incessantly +to the pedagogue. The teacher was a compact mestizo in his early +twenties, a short youth with a furrowed sloping Indian forehead and +bright beady black eyes. He was wearing a pair of brown-cotton trousers, +a blue shirt without a tie, and rope-soled slippers. + +"Are you truly Major Segador?" he asked. And then, without waiting for +the answer, he turned to the shepherd and began to berate him. "You +fool," he shouted, "untie his bonds at once. Do you know that he sat in +El Moro with Don Anibal?" + +"I am without learning," the shepherd said. + +"It is all right, teacher," Segador said. "The _companero_ did his +duty--and he did it properly. Undo my hand, Juan Antonio, so that I may +shake your hand." + +"I am sorry, _companero_," the school teacher said to the shepherd. "I +spoke to you without thinking." + +"What is your name, teacher?" + +"I am called Pablo Artigas." He helped Hall and Segador get off the +donkeys. "I regret that you have had so much grief in our province." + +"Are you a member of the Union?" Segador asked. + +"Naturally. For three years--since I am a teacher. Before that I +belonged to the Union of Students." + +"And you have your _carnet_?" + +"Not with me, Major Segador. It is in my room at the school." + +"We will look at it. May we go with you?" + +"I will be honored." + +"Please, Your Honors," said Bustamente the Notary, "I insist that you +ride the horses. The teacher may have one of the donkeys. I shall walk." + +The shepherd reached into his sheepskin cloak. "Here are your pistols," +he said. + +Hall passed his cigarettes around. The shepherd accepted one with a shy +smile. "I am glad that you are not angry, Senor Cuban Major," he said. +"I have never had a Cuban cigarette before." + + + + +_Chapter eighteen_ + + +"Fantastic! Sheer fantasy on paper, but it's all true. All roads lead to +San Hermano. First, Lobo. Then, today, the man from Spain. Then ..." +Felipe Duarte could not sit still. He walked around Hall's room at the +Bolivar like a referee during a fast bout between flyweights. +"Ostensibly, Lobo came to represent Batista at the funeral yesterday. +Actually, he came to bring duplicates and even the originals of most of +your negatives--as well as a report on Androtten. I don't know what's in +the Androtten report yet; all I know is that the American Intelligence +Service had something on it, and they gave it to Lobo." + +"I tried to reach him on the phone." + +"He's busy, Mateo. He's closeted with Lavandero. That's not all ..." + +"I know, the de Sola affidavit. I'll have to tell you about Havana, +Felipe. And about the all-night march to Cerrorico through the woods +with Segador and the school teacher and the Notary's mules." _Mateo, eh +Mateo, what did you see in the shepherd's hut? Tabio's picture? All I +could see was poverty, Mateo._ + +"Hey, you're not listening? What are you thinking of?" + +Hall put his shaving brush down, inserted a fresh blade in his razor. "A +thousand things. Cerrorico. The mining stronghold. Segador said the +communists had a good press and that they were reliable. He wasn't +kidding. They must have run off a million leaflets with reproductions of +the Ansaldo pictures and the Havana documents by the time I left." +Later, he would tell Duarte about the ride from Cerrorico in the engine +cab of an ore train, and hopping off at dawn at the Monte Azul station, +and being met by a Pepe Delgado who wore a freshly washed and +ill-fitting reservist's uniform and drove a small army lorry. Segador +had gone ahead on an earlier train. + +"You should have seen the leaflets yesterday, Mateo. Just as the funeral +procession was at its greatest the army planes appeared overhead and +started to drop the leaflets by the ton. And an hour after the leaflets +fell from the skies, the pro-United Nations papers were all over the +country with front-page reproductions of the pictures and the +documents." + +"And all that time I was sleeping on an ore train. Who is this man from +Spain you mentioned, Felipe?" + +"It is fantastic! After Mogrado got my message, he rounded up two +Spanish Army surgeons who knew Ansaldo. They made affidavits, too. That +isn't the half of what Mogrado did. He reached the Spanish underground +in Spain via a cable to Lisbon. And this morning the Clipper came in +from Lisbon, and what do you think?" + +"I can't think. But don't tell me it's fantastic, Felipe." + +"But it is fantastic. There is a man on board the plane, a typical +_senorito_. He has papers with him that say he is a Spanish diplomat. +The minute he steps ashore, a mug from the Spanish Embassy recognizes +him. 'He is a fraud, a _rojo_, a defiler of nuns and an arsonist of +cathedrals!' he shrieks. It's fantastic! The man with the papers lifts a +heavy fist and he lets fly with a blow that knocks out the fascist's +front teeth. 'Baby killer!' he hollers, and then he turns around to the +airport officials and he says he is a Mexican citizen who used fake +papers to escape from Spain and he demands that they take him under +guard to the Mexican Embassy. In the meanwhile he says they'll have to +kill him if they want to take his papers before he is delivered in +person to the Mexican Embassy. Is it fantastic, Mateo?" + +"For God's sake stop telling me that!" + +"But it is fantastic! He makes them drive him to the Mexican Embassy, +and the Spanish official is screaming like a stuck pig that the man is a +Spanish citizen and an agent of the Comintern." + +"Who is he?" + +"He is a Spaniard, of course. The underground sent him. They had cadres +in the office of the Falange National Delegation. They took out the +Falange party records of Ansaldo and Marina, put them under a camera, +and sent the pictures to San Hermano with this agent. It was a farce. I +was in the next room, listening to him as he told the Ambassador that +his name was Joaquin Bolivar. Then I walked in, the sweet light of +recognition on my ugly face, shouting 'Joaquin! My old University pal, +Joaquin! Don't you recognize your old Felipe Duarte?' The Ambassador +just watches me. The man's papers are still in a sealed envelope before +him. + +"It is enough for him. He slams his hands down on the papers and says he +claims them in the name of his government. 'I will take the +responsibility for Senor Bolivar,' he says. 'I have reason to believe he +is a Mexican national.' I ask you, Mateo--is it fantastic?" + +"No. It's just efficient. Where is he now?" + +"The Ambassador took him and his papers to see Lavandero. He's giving a +deposition and an interview to the press." + +"I ought to take in the interview." + +"No. Stay away. Segador thinks it will be wiser if you stay away. But +that isn't all. Do you remember the picture of Ansaldo that started you +off on your wild-goose chase?" + +"Vaguely. What about it?" + +"There is a doctor in the Institute of Tropical Medicine in Puerto Rico. +He is the head of the pro-Loyalist Spanish society on the island ..." + +"Ramon Toro?" + +"Toro. You know him? Well, he must be a man worth knowing. He has a +collection of _Avance_--that was the Falange organ in San Juan, starting +with issue number one. When he sees the picture of Gamburdo embracing +Ansaldo--it was on the front page of _El Mundo_ in San Juan--a bell +rings in his head. He starts going through his _Avances_, and what do +you think? He finds the picture you were looking for in an August issue. +So he rips open his suitcase, pastes the whole issue of _Avance_ between +the linings, and arrives at the San Hermano airport last night. He +doesn't stop. He takes his bag straight to the editor of _La +Democracia_, empties it of his clothes, and pulls out the ..." + +"Christ! Toro had it all the time!" + +"It's on the front page of _La Democracia_ this morning. I was in such a +rush to get here that I left it in my office. I tell you, all roads lead +to San Hermano. Every time I hear a plane overhead, I think, aha! more +anonymous Republicans and underground agents and Cuban generals are +coming in with more documents. It's fantastic!" + +"Did anyone else turn up?" Hall was feeling better than he had in years. +He was one of many now, he knew, one of an army who marched in uniform, +out of uniform, but an army which knew the enemy and knew how to fight +him. Mogrado, Fielding, Duarte, Segador, Rafael, Pepe, Vicente, +Iglesias, even poor Rivas for all his cringing and breast-beating--the +army was strong, and it was growing stronger with the taste of victory. +That was all that mattered, now. + +"I guess that's the beginning of the end for the Falange," he said. + +"The hell it is, Mateo." Duarte was coming down to earth. "It will be a +long row to hoe. Your State Department has been distributing judicious +hints that a unilateral policy toward Franco will upset the apple cart. +They're after an all-Hemisphere policy toward Spain. All that this means +is that none of the countries, except my own, will dare to break with +Franco until Washington takes the lead. Not even this one." + +"You're crazy." + +"I'm a diplomat, Mateo. Mark my words." + +"I hope you have to eat those words by the end of the week." Hall doused +his face with bay rum, patted it with a towel. "When did they call the +troops up? Pepe started to tell me about it when he drove me over last +night, but I fell asleep as soon as he got started." + +"Three days ago, Mateo. There was a meeting of the Student Council to +Aid the United Nations at the University. The hall was packed. Then the +Cross and Sword gunmen stormed the entrances and fired point blank into +the crowd. There were over fifteen deaths, and so many injured that the +University authorities established an emergency hospital in five lecture +rooms. Your Jerry has been there since. The commanding general of this +area is loyal to the Republic; he called up the reserves." + +"What about Jerry? I've been trying to reach her all morning." + +"She is wonderful. All the patients are trying to teach her Spanish." + +"What are we waiting for? Let's go to the University." + +"Not me. I've got to go back to the Embassy. Lobo says he can meet us +both for lunch at the Embassy." + +"I'll make it. Let's go. Oh, one more thing. I put through some calls to +New York. And some are coming in. I gave your office as one of the +places I could be reached." + +"Don't be late." + + * * * * * + +Jerry could spend only a few minutes with Hall on the University steps. +"Gonzales told me that you were safe," she said. "And also what you +accomplished. I'm proud of you, Matt." + +"I worried about you," he said. "Were you scared when you found yourself +in a war zone?" + +"No. Just angry. Maria Luisa was at the meeting when the shooting +started. She wasn't hurt, thank God, but she was a bloody mess when she +got home. Gonzales and I left for the University at once. I've been +here, since. We've had four deaths to date." + +"When can you get away?" + +"Not till dinner time. But things are easing up. We've been able to +transfer more than half of our cases to the hospitals." + +"The Bolivar at eight." + +He took a cab to the Mexican Embassy. The driver was beaming as he shut +the door. He told Hall that the early returns were overwhelmingly in +favor of Lavandero. "Yes, senor," he laughed, "the fascists are on the +run today. The lines formed outside of the polling places three and even +four hours before they opened. Did you see what fell from the planes +yesterday? Did you see the papers? Those dirty fascists!" + +Duarte had figures to back up the cab driver's story when Hall reached +the Mexican Embassy. "It is a wonderful victory, Mateo," he said. "The +tide is running so strongly that Gamburdo is expected to concede the +election before the polls close at five." + +"The bastard! Where's Lobo?" + +"He'll be here in a minute. Let me show you some of the leaflets. I'll +bet you haven't seen one yet." + +The leaflet was the size of a standard newspaper page, printed on both +sides. There was the large picture of Gamburdo embracing Ansaldo smack +up against the shot of Ansaldo, in fascist uniform, giving the fascist +salute along with the Nazi and the Italian officers. Most of the Falange +documents proving the Axis ties of Gamburdo and the Cross and Sword were +also reproduced on the single sheet. + +"It turned the election," Duarte said. "Until yesterday, the fascists +were spreading the story that Lavandero had kept Ansaldo from operating +in time. Gamburdo was so anxious to grab the credit for Ansaldo that he +dug his own grave." + +"He's not in the grave, yet." + +"Be patient." + +Lobo walked into the office. He was wearing his regulation tan uniform. +"Mateo," he shouted, "you're a fraud! I heard you were wearing a Cuban +officer's uniform." + +"It's in shreds, Jaime." + +Lobo eased his long frame into Duarte's favorite chair. "I thought you'd +never gotten through," he said. "After the second day of silence I was +sure the fascists had clipped your wings. Don't bother to tell me about +your hardships, though. I've already seen Segador." + +"Everyone has seen Segador," Hall laughed. "Everyone but me. When the +hell do I see him?" + +"He's very busy, my friend. He's responsible to a government, you know, +not to himself, like you." + +"_Mierda!_" + +"That reminds me. There's an American officer in town. From Miami." + +"Intelligence?" + +"Naturally. He's a very nice guy, Mateo. The American Ambassador's +daughter here told him that you are an agent of the Comintern. He told +me that he knew she was crazy. He asked me to tell you that he's a +straight-shooter and he wants to speak to you. In a friendly way, of +course. Name's Barrows. A lieutenant-colonel. Know him?" + +"No. What about Androtten?" + +"What about Barrows, first? If I were you, I'd give him a ring. He's at +the American Embassy." + +"All right. Shall I ask him to lunch with us?" + +Barrows was not free for lunch. He arranged to meet Hall at Duarte's +office at three. "He sounds human," Hall admitted. + +During their luncheon, Lobo told Hall and Duarte what he had learned +about Androtten from the American Government. The man was a German named +Schmidt or Wincklemann (he had used passports in both names) who had a +record as a German agent which went back to 1915. He had spent some time +in Java, some years in Spanish Morocco, and the year of 1935 living in a +villa at Estoril, the beach resort outside of Lisbon. "The record +doesn't say what he was doing in Portugal," Lobo said. "My guess is that +he was working with Sanjurjo." + +"I'd back you on that," Hall said. "The old rumhound needed someone to +hold his hand before the war." + +"There are blank spaces in the record after that," Lobo said. "The next +entry is the spring of 1938, when your Androtten was known as +Wincklemann. He turned up in Rome as an art dealer specializing in +Spanish masterpieces. He sold two Goyas and a Velasquez to three rich +ladies in the British colony; told them the paintings were from the +private collections of Spanish noblemen who had been ruined by the +_rojos_. He was lying, of course--the paintings had all been taken from +Spanish museums by the Nazis. Wincklemann disappeared, and the ladies +finally sold the paintings back to the Franco government in 1940 for the +same price. The last mention of Wincklemann or Schmidt is a paragraph +from a letter mailed to Washington from Mexico in July, 1941. The letter +was from the junta of Dominican opposition leaders and mentioned a +Gunther Wincklemann as one of four Nazi agents who had been guests of +Trujillo in the Dominican capital that month." + + * * * * * + +Hall borrowed an empty office in the Mexican Embassy for his appointment +with the American officer. It went off well. Barrows was a +plain-speaking man in his early forties, with the handshake of a young +and vigorous boiler maker. He had a nice, unhurried way about him, his +frosty blue eyes surveying Hall with good humor while he fussed with his +thick-walled pipe. "I'd heard all sorts of conflicting stories about +you," he said, smiling at the conflicts. + +"I can imagine," Hall said. + +"I wish I could tell you half of them." + +"I know the Ambassador's half. Heard it in Havana." + +Barrows snorted. "Have you a match that lights?" he asked. "I've been +trying to get this pipe started for days." He refused a cigar. It was a +match that he wanted. Hall had a lighter whose flame burned long enough +to light the pipe. "There now," he said, "now we can talk. I know that +you heard about the Ambassador's report. If it will make you feel any +better, Skidmore got his tail singed for it." He was highly amused. + +"Good." Hall was warming up to Barrows. "I hate stuffed shirts." + +"So do I. But frankly, Hall, I'd like to drop the subject. I--I need +your advice. Unofficially, of course. But I need it. It's about the +reports that the late Roger Fielding made to the British Embassy. You +saw them, I understand." + +"Only once. A few nights before he was killed." + +"That's what I was told. Commander New in the British Embassy told me. +He's not exactly up on the San Hermano scene yet, you know. He thinks +that after the job you and Lobo did in Havana that he ought to turn the +originals of the Fielding reports over to the government. What he +doesn't know is who to hand them to. He wants to know who will use them +and who will burn them. He thought that since you were an American, he'd +ask me to get your slant on it." + +"I get it," Hall said. "You want one guy who is certain to be an +anti-fascist. Someone who will know just how to use the information." + +"Exactly. I don't suppose I have to tell you, Hall, that the enemy has +been sinking our shipping in the South Atlantic and the Caribbean at a +rate that spells one hell of a long war. I know, as you do, that +Falangist Spaniards on shore are working with the Nazi undersea raiders. +But even if we wanted to, we couldn't send enough Marines to South +America to root 'em out. We've got to rely on the local governments to +do the job." + +"Yeah." Hall was bitter. "We want this Republic to root out the +Falangists, so we send an Ambassador who plays footy with the Falangists +in public and calls the anti-Falangist President a dirty Red." + +"You're carping, Hall." + +"All right. I'm carping. I'm a taxpayer, it's my prerogative to carp. We +want the Latin American Republics to get tough with the Franquists who +are helping the Nazis sink our ships, so we sell the Spanish fascists +the oil they transfer to the Nazi subs, and we send an Ambassador to +Madrid whose only exercise is kissing Franco's foot in public every +Sunday morning, and when any of our sister Republics want to break with +Franco we dispatch a sanctimonious buzzard in striped pants from the +State Department and he tells them to lay off Franco, Spain's Saviour +from Atheism and Communism. How in the hell can we expect the Latin +Republics to crack down on Franco's stooges at home when we ourselves +play up to Franco in Madrid?" + +"Let's have that lighter again." Barrows was cool and unruffled, the +smile that danced across the smooth lines of his face never wavered. +"I'm a soldier," he said, pleasantly. "I can't discuss policy. I can +only talk tactics. You know that, Hall. Tactics is the art of working +with an existent situation and licking it--not waiting for the +millennium. You think our policy toward Franco Spain should be changed. +Maybe you're right. Maybe it will be changed. But, in the meanwhile, +Franquists in Latin America, in this country specifically, are putting +the finger on our ships. Fielding's reports might be accurate. If we are +to act on them, we need the help of pro-Allied members of this +government. Who is our man?" + +"There is one man in these parts who can be trusted completely to do the +right things with those reports," Hall answered. "Give him the reports, +and after the polls close he'll be in a position to round up every +fascist Fielding listed and put them on ice for the duration. He's an +army man--Major Diego Segador." + +"And you think he's our man, eh? Would you mind writing his name in my +book, and the best place to reach him?" + +Hall carefully printed the information Barrows wanted and then, as he +returned the book, he said, deliberately, "But there's one thing you +should know about Segador. He's everything I said he is, and more. But +he's also a leftist. He's very close to the Communist Party." + +"So what?" Barrows said, casually. "The Russians are killing plenty of +Germans, and I understand their chief is a member of the party, too. Man +named Stalin, or something like that." + +"Do you mind if I call you unique?" + +"Not at all. But let me ask one. What are you planning to do for the +duration? Ever think of G-2?" + +"Yeah. I applied before Pearl Harbor. They turned me down so hard I +thought I was hit by a truck. I applied again on December 8th, 1941. It +was still no soap. I was for the Loyalists in Spain, you know. That made +me what the brass hats term a 'premature anti-fascist' and definitely +not officer material." + +"I didn't know about that," Barrows said. "What would you do if the door +was opened for you now? Understand, I'm not making an offer. I'm just +asking." + +"I don't know," Hall said. "I don't think the door would be opened. If +it was--I'd have to think about it." + +"May I have your lighter again?" + +Hall watched Barrows make a major operation of relighting his pipe, and +recognized it as the officer's neat device for creating a break in a +conversation that needed breaking. Barrows had a way of making the +ritual of lighting his pipe serve as the curtain that falls on a given +scene of a play. + +"The Ambassador," Barrows smiled. "He's been tearing his nice white hair +since you got back from Havana. You put him on an awful spot, you know." + +"It'll do him good, the old bastard. Do you know what Tabio told me +about him a few days before he died? He said that he was with Skidmore +at a dinner a few days after Germany invaded Russia and that Skidmore +said he was glad that now the Russians would get what was coming to +them." + +"Not really?" + +"Lavandero was there. He'll back me up." Hall stopped. "Say, I have an +idea," he said. "There's one thing I can do for G-2. I can write a +report on Skidmore. I'll do it right after the elections." + +"Oh-oh! It'll mean trouble with the Spats Department." + +"Spats?" + +"State. But you make your report, and give it to me. I'll turn it in +with the rest of my stuff when I get back. Why not? You're a civilian. +The worst that can happen to you after you write the report is that +you'll have trouble getting passports and visas." + +"I don't give a damn," Hall said. "And I'll do something else. You gave +me an idea. I'm still a civilian, you said. Swell, then I won't be +climbing over anyone's brass hat if I see to it that a copy of the +report reaches the White House." + +Barrows leaned back in his chair, laughing. "He told me that you +threatened to do just that," he said. "But he's just a harmless old +duffer, Hall. He told me he wanted to shake your hand." + +"He can shove it. Did you meet his daughter?" + +"Once. She doesn't like you." + +"Ever receive any reports in Miami about her?" + +"You know I can't answer that question, Hall." + +"O.K. That means--oh, I guess it means that you got reports that she +sleeps around plenty. But her political life is more important to G-2 +than her sex didoes." + +"Gossip?" + +"Fact. She's secretly engaged to be married to the man who killed +Fielding. The Marques de Runa. But don't worry--he'll never be brought +to trial for it. He's in Spain. Left by Clipper over a week ago with his +chauffeur, the man who actually ran poor Fielding down." + +The officer from Miami laid his pipe down on the desk. "This is pretty +serious," he said. "I don't want to get it all by ear, old man. Would +you mind talking while it was taken down? Not only about Margaret +Skidmore. About everything you can give your Uncle about the Falange? +Facts, names, addresses, opinions--the works. I brought a young +lieutenant with me from Miami; he was a crack stenographer in civilian +life. How about spending a few hours with us?" + +"Sure. I can give you the rest of the day, if you like." + +"I'd like it fine. But if you don't mind--not here." + +"O.K. Dr. Gonzales' house. It's on the outskirts of the city, and we'd +be alone." + + * * * * * + +Hall spent the rest of the day at Gonzales', dictating to the +lieutenant. While they worked, Duarte phoned to tell him that Gamburdo +had formally conceded the election. "What are your dinner plans?" he +asked the Mexican. + +"None. I have to finish a long report on the elections before I eat. +Where and when are you eating?" + +"I don't know. I thought that for sentimental reasons I'd eat with Jerry +and Pepe and Vicente and Souza at the Bolivar. Lobo is tied up for the +evening." + +"I'll join you when I can, Mateo." + +Later, when the American officers left, Hall tried to reach his friends +by phone. Arturo, the desk clerk, told him that Souza had taken the day +off and that Pepe and Vicente had been called up with the reserves. He +gave Hall a list of numbers where he might possibly find Pepe. Hall +finally reached him at the Transport Workers' Union. "Can you eat with +me tonight?" he asked. + +"Yes. Where are you? Our officers just handed us our new orders. I am to +be your driver and Emilio your guard." + +"What?" + +"Sergeants Delgado and Vicente at your orders, sir." + +"Is this official?" + +Pepe laughed heartily. "Official," he said. "We can show you our +orders." + +"I am at Gonzales'. Can you pick me up now?" + +"At once." + +The sergeants were there in fifteen minutes. Pepe now drove an Army car +whose color matched his uniform. They drove to the University for Jerry. + +Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling the city, guarding both the Axis +diplomatic buildings and the commercial houses owned by known fascists. +The streets were crowded with civilians. They hung around the cafes, +listening to the latest election bulletins over the cafe radios, or they +congregated under the government's loud speakers in the plazas and the +broad avenues. Even though Gamburdo had already conceded his defeat, the +people awaited the results of each new count, cheered each new electoral +repudiation of the Falange candidate. Everywhere the sidewalks, the +gutters, the doorways of stores and buildings were littered with whole +or tattered copies of the leaflets exposing Gamburdo and Ansaldo. + +"We gave them a licking they won't forget so quickly," Pepe chortled. + +"Yes, but they are still alive, Pepe. They took a licking in the last +Spanish elections, too." + +"_De nada_," Vicente said, grimly. "Let them try to make a second +Spanish War in our Republic. We'll drown them in their own blood." + +Jerry was waiting for them on the University steps. "Matt, it was +amazing. Translate for me, will you? I think Pepe and Vicente would like +to know, too. As soon as the word was flashed to the wards that +Lavandero won the election, the serious cases started to pull through, +and the others are just about ready to dance. I've never seen anything +like it!" + +Duarte joined them as they were finishing their soup. He was pale and +upset. "The Axis got the news pretty quickly," he said. He picked up a +bottle of brandy, poured a half tumbler and downed it in a gulp. + +"For Christ's sake, what happened, Felipe?" + +"The Nazis," he said. "This afternoon, a few minutes after Gamburdo +quit, a Nazi submarine deliberately sank one of the Republic's unarmed +freighters. It happened less than thirty miles from where we're sitting. +That isn't all. The ship had time to wireless for help before she sank. +And the Nazis waited until the rescue boats had picked up the survivors +before they surfaced again and sank each of the boats with their deck +guns." + +"When did you find out?" + +"Hours ago. I kept quiet because I wanted to make sure about Souza. Now +it's been confirmed. He was on one of the rescue boats. He is dead." + +"Why, the dirty ..." + +"Wait, Mateo. There is something else. Don't go. You had a call from +Radio City in New York. They want you to broadcast to America at ten +o'clock tonight. The Siglo station has the hook-up here." + +The clock on the Bolivar dining-room wall read eight-thirty. "I'd better +go right over," Hall said. "Eat and wait for me here, Felipe. Don't +bother to drive me, Pepe. I'll walk. It's less than two blocks. Have +some more brandy." + +"I'm going with you," Jerry said. + + * * * * * + +"_Come in, San Hermano ..._" Over the long-wave from Radio City. + +The station announcer gave Hall his signal. Hall mopped his face with +his sleeve, glanced at his notes. "For a few hours this afternoon here +in San Hermano," he said into the microphone, "most of us believed that +virtue is its own reward, that the truth by itself is the most powerful +weapon in the hands of a democracy. + +"At three o'clock this afternoon, the fascist candidate for the +presidency of this Republic conceded defeat in an election marked by the +dramatic revelation of his ties with the Falange in Madrid and the Nazis +in Berlin. There was no bloodshed, no disturbances. Democracy had scored +a bloodless victory in San Hermano. + +"For thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds, the elections remained a +triumph for the ideals of the late president, Anibal Tabio, a man in the +traditions of our own Abraham Lincoln. It was Tabio's life-long belief +that 'Ye shall know the truth and it shall make you free.' But Tabio, +like the leaders of the last Spanish Republic, placed too much faith in +the power of good and decency and progress and had too little fear of +the fascist powers of evil abroad in this world. + +"At exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds after the fascist +Gamburdo conceded the elections to his Popular-Front opponent, the +people of this Republic learned that the world has grown much smaller +since Lincoln declared that no nation could exist half slave and half +free. Today what Lincoln had to say about one nation goes for one world. +This one world, our one world, is now torn by a global war. It is a +total war. The people of this democracy struck at the Axis today by +overwhelmingly defeating the Axis candidate at the polls. It took the +Axis exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds to answer the +democratic people of this free nation. The answer was delivered by the +torpedoes and deck guns of a Nazi submarine lurking thirty miles from +the docks of this port...." + +He talked on, glancing at the station clock frequently. There was a lot +he wanted to cram into his fifteen minutes. If possible, he hoped, he +would be able to get in a few words about the big feature story on the +front page of the bulldog edition of _El Imparcial_. + +It was a long and lachrymose account of how Mexico was suffering because +the food of the nation was being rushed to the American armed forces and +how the war had forced inflation and shortages on that suffering +Catholic country whose people had no quarrel with Hitler and no love for +the Godless Stalin. + +The red sweep-second hand raced Hall through his account of this story. +"It is no accident that this piece of Axis propaganda should be featured +on page one of the nation's leading pro-Franco paper tomorrow," he said. +"This is the Falange line for Latin America. This is the unnecessary +acid the Axis is preparing to inject into the very real wounds Latin +America is suffering and will suffer from this total war." + +The announcer standing at the other microphone drew his hand in front of +his own throat. Hall's time was up. + +Jerry rushed into the studio from the anteroom, where she had been +listening to the talk over the studio radio. She kissed him, took his +hand as they went downstairs and into the narrow street which led to the +Plaza de la Republica. "Where do we go from here, Matt?" she asked. + +"God alone knows. Let's get married tomorrow. That's one thing we'd +better do while we still have a chance. I used to think I belonged in +the army. The army doctors rejected me for combat service; I'm too +banged up. Twice I tried to get into Intelligence, the first time before +Pearl Harbor. They wouldn't touch me with a fork. Saturday, Colonel +Barrows hinted that they were less squeamish about accepting +anti-fascists into G-2. He hinted that maybe I could get an Intelligence +commission." + +"I'll go in as a nurse if they accept you, Matt." + +"That's a big _if_, baby. But if they don't, we can go on fighting the +fascists in our own way. We won't get Legion pins and ribbons and +bonuses after it's all over, and the only uniforms we'll ever get to +wear will be decoy outfits like the one I wore when I left Havana. But +the fight will be the same, and the enemy will be the same. And we won't +have to worry about getting stuck on an inactive front. We can pick our +fronts. + +"When it's all over, we'll go to Spain and we'll spit on Franco's grave +and I'll show you where a great man named Antin died and where a kid +lieutenant named Rafael killed fourteen fascists with one gun and we'll +walk down the Puerta del Sol in Madrid with the most wonderful people +I've ever known--what's left of them--and we'll dandle black-eyed +Spanish kids on our knees until our guts begin to ache for kids of our +own and then we'll make a kid of our own and fly back so he'll be born +in Ohio like his folks and grow up to be a good anti-fascist President +or at least an intelligent American Ambassador to San Hermano. Ah, I'm +talking like a fool, baby, talking like a drunk in a swank bar off +Sutton Place." + +The loud speakers on the lamp posts of the Plaza suddenly came alive. + +"Attention, everyone! Attention!" + +"Wait," Matt said. "Something's up." + +"Attention! This is the Mayor of San Hermano speaking. Eduardo Gamburdo, +wanted for the murder of Anibal Tabio, has fled the country. The Cabinet +and a quorum of the legislature, meeting at six o'clock tonight, have +unanimously voted that President-Elect Esteban Lavandero should be sworn +in as President immediately. At ten o'clock tonight, President Lavandero +took his oath of office from the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court in +the Presidencia. I will repeat this announcement. Attention...." + +Hall translated the announcement. "Now Lavandero has been introduced. +I'll translate as he goes along." + +"Citizens, members of the Popular Front parties, members of all +parties," Lavandero began. "This afternoon, at three thirty-five +o'clock, a submarine which has been positively identified as being of +German nationality torpedoed a ship bearing the flag of our Republic +within our national waters. The ship was sunk. The survivors and the men +on the boats which set out from shore to rescue them were shelled by +this submarine. The losses have been enormous. At the last official +count, we had lost over eighty citizens, all victims of fascist +bestiality. + +"Tomorrow, I shall go before the Congress and speak for a declaration of +war against the Axis. Tonight, my first official act has been to promote +Major Diego Segador to the rank of Colonel for outstanding services to +our Republic, and to appoint him Emergency Chief of the Defense of San +Hermano. I have asked Colonel Segador to speak to you now." + +Hall put his arm around Jerry. "The war has come to us," he said. "We +don't have to look for it any longer." + +"Citizens," Segador said. "Our city is in sight of a wolfpack of Nazi +submarines of undetermined size. The lights of our city are therefore at +the service of the fascist enemy. If you are on the streets, go into +your houses, or into the nearest cafes or other buildings. If you are +indoors, put out your lights, wherever you are. In five minutes, the +street lights of the city will be turned off. This announcement is being +recorded, and will be repeated for the next thirty minutes, or as long +as one light remains lit in San Hermano. Our lights are the eyes of the +submarines--we must blind their evil eyes. + +"Soldiers on duty, remain at your posts and await further orders. +Soldiers off duty, report at once to your commanding officer. Sailors +off shore ..." + +They stood together, watching the people hurry off the streets, watching +the lights go out in the lamp posts, in the cafes, in the houses of the +old Plaza. They remained near the loud speaker, listening to the +announcement repeated, listening to the national anthem, listening, +finally, to the dark silences of the night. They remained frozen to the +cobbles of the Plaza de la Republica which had been born in the days of +the empire as the Plaza de Fernando e Isabel and whose cobbles bore the +shadows of the edifices of the Conquistador generations and the Segura +generations and the democratic decade. Monuments of all manners of life +rose in dark, brooding piles on all sides of the Plaza; the slave life +and the life that was half slave and half free and the free life which +now had to fight for its freedom. In the dark Plaza, they could almost +hear the young heart of the city, of the Republic, beating slowly, +steadily, confidently. + +"Darling," she said, "I'm not afraid of anything any more. I'll never be +afraid again." + +"I know," he answered. "That's what this war is about, baby. It's the +war of the people who are not afraid to live their own lives. Let's go +back to the Bolivar, baby. Pepe and Vicente are still expecting us." + +Pepe and Vicente were sitting in their lorry, waiting for them. + +"_Companeros_," Pepe said, "Duarte is waiting for you inside. You will +all have to stay at the hotel tonight." + +"That's all right, Pepe." + +"We have to go back to our barracks," Vicente said. "We are called." + +"Yes, _companeros_," Pepe said. His uniform looked less strange on him +in the blackout. "We cracked the thick skull of the Falange today, +_companeros_, but the black heart is still pumping." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE ARROWS*** + + +******* This file should be named 35904.txt or 35904.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/9/0/35904 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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