The Five Arrows

  _Chapter sixteen_

  Don Anibal Tabio died at ten o'clock the next morning. He died on theoperating table, under Ansaldo's knife.

  Hall was in Santiago's office when Eduardo Sanchez called at eleven tosay 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. "Wehave to know what Gamburdo and Lavandero are planning." Somehow,although he had known for days that Tabio's hours were numbered, it washard to swallow his friend's dying on Ansaldo's terms. He was toostunned to wonder how Gamburdo had finally won out. For a moment, therewas a sensation of sudden emptiness; this gave way to a sense of horrorand rage.

  "Poor Anibal," he said. "Charging the arrows of the Falange with onlythe white plume of Truth in his thin hands."

  "He was your friend, wasn't he?" Santiago said. "He was a very greatman."

  "Yes."

  "Would you like a drink, Mateo?"

  "No, later. Call de Sola again. Tell him to hurry up. I'm going to theMexican Embassy. I have to leave an envelope with the secretary. I'll beback in less than an hour."

  "_Bueno._" The Spaniard walked to the door with Hall. "There has been agood change in you, Mateo," he said. "I remember the day when such ablow would have sent you off like a wild bull. It is better to fightthem back the new way, no?"

  "You should know, Colonel Iglesias. You should know." Hall stopped offat a bar on the way to his hotel for a quick double brandy to steady hisnerves.

  The manager of the Jefferson avoided Hall's eyes when he handed theattache case back to him. "The senor will notice that the seal isunbroken?" he asked.

  "It is a new seal," Hall said. "But be tranquil. I was present at SecretPolice Headquarters when the seal was broken. And please tell your clerkthat I am not angry with him." He put the case under his arm and took acab to the Mexican Embassy.

  There was more bad news when Hall returned to the Casa. The files ofFranco publications kept by Doctor Nazario at the University had alsofailed to produce the needed picture of Ansaldo. And a messenger fromEduardo Sanchez had brought for Hall a copy of the first AP bulletinfrom San Hermano.

  Hall read the bulletin aloud for Santiago and Rafael. "The wilybastard!" he said, reading how Gamburdo had decreed six days of officialmourning and a national election on the seventh day following Tabio'sdeath. "'As our beloved Educator's chosen deputy and successor, I canpromise the people of the Republic a continuation of the peace which wasours under Don Anibal's wise leadership. I can promise that anywarmongers who would destroy this great blessing left to the nation byDon Anibal will immediately feel the wrath of the government. It wasAnibal Tabio's last wish that our Republic be spared from suffering theravages 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 ofdecent people."

  "Tabio was a politico, too," Santiago said, sharply. "What else does itsay, Mateo?"

  "It says that the Radicals and the Nationals have already nominatedGamburdo. The Progressives and the Communists are meeting this afternoonto select Lavandero as their candidate, and the Socialists are askingboth candidates for guarantees against Bolshevism before making up theirminds. The Traditional Nationalist Action Party--that's the Cross andthe Sword--are out a hundred per cent for Gamburdo."

  "What the hell are the Socialists stalling for?" Rafael shouted. "Whereare their brains?"

  "You mean," Santiago answered, gently, "where is their socialism?"

  "Listen to this," Hall said. "'The body of the President will lie instate for six days in the Great Hall of Congress. Acting PresidentGamburdo has ordered a hand-picked elite corps of army and navy officersto maintain a twenty-four-hour watch over the bier.' An elite corps forDon Anibal!

  "And listen to this: 'In the name of the Republic, Acting PresidentGamburdo thanked the noted surgeon, Varela Ansaldo, for his last-houreffort to save the life of the late President, and announced that hewould recommend to the Congress that Dr. Ansaldo and his assistant, Dr.Marina, be given formal decorations. Gamburdo revealed that Ansaldo, whocame to San Hermano at his urgent pleas, left the mourning capital atnoon on the first leg of a flying voyage to Lisbon where he is toperform 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 thisstatement," Santiago said, "it will be very hard for Gamburdo to explainto anyone. Especially since you have that picture of Gamburdo at thesecret Falange dinner."

  "I have more than that. I have a copy of the report the InspectorGeneral of the Falange made about Gamburdo at that dinner, and it'swritten 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 catchhim in at the clinic now. Tell him to get Rivas and bring him to his ownhouse 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 SpanishEmbassy 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 myway to accept such offers."

  "I don't offer it to a man," Hall said. "I gave it to an officer of thePeople'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 ofthe Embassy--if we get out."

  "I've got to see Lobo," Hall said when Rafael left. "I've got to tellhim to ask the American Intelligence Service to check on Ansaldo'smovements in Lisbon. I don't think he is going to operate on anyPortuguese jurist or anyone else in Lisbon."

  "You'll make a fool of yourself, Mateo. You're not dealing with stupidSpanish fascists like Franco and Gil Robles. You're dealing with theGerman Nazis who run the Falange. I know them. They're too smart not tohave a patient waiting in bed for Ansaldo when he gets to Lisbon. Whydon't you see Lobo after our conference with Rivas? In the meanwhile,I'd better get statements from de Sola and Carlos Echagaray on Ansaldoand Marina."

  * * * * *

  Meeting Fernando Rivas in the home of the Cuban doctor, Hall wasreminded of what an acid-tongued Czech journalist said to him at Genevaabout Chautemps, a French politician. There was nothing wrong with thepolitician, the Czech said, except that he had the face of a traitor. Ina city where the sun always shined, Rivas had the pallor of a skin whichnever saw the sun. He sat tensely at the edge of the chair in More'sstudy, hands working a battered Panama, his puffy eyes darting furtivelooks at Rafael and Hall, men he had never seen before but whom heobviously suspected of being agents of the Republican underground. Hallthought: this is a man who can no longer know hate or love or anythingbut fear.

  It was Santiago's show. He ran it on his own terms. From the outset, hemade it clear that he, or rather the Republic for which he spoke, wasgiving the orders. They were given decently, temperately, but notwithout the proof that force lay behind the commands. Rivas was toaddress him as Colonel. "And these," he said, indicating Rafael andHall, "are my aides, Majors Juan and Pancho."

  "What is it you want of me, Colonel? There is nothing I would not do foryou."

  "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 batterynear Bilbao. "It is not y
our 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 suddenlyseemed to grow, to straighten his back. His head held high, he lookedeach man proudly in the eyes. A moment earlier, his hands, his lips hadbeen quivering. Now they were firm and still. "Why?" he repeated in anew, stronger voice. "Why?" He was fighting for one last chance,fighting with his remaining reserve of dignity. "I'll tell you why, myColonel. Because I don't care whether I live or not. But I want to dieas a Spaniard, as a free man again. I want to die as a Republican. Isthat reason enough?"

  Colonel Santiago Iglesias was not a cruel person. He hated to play catand mouse with a human being, even with such as Rivas. But his firstresponsibilities were to the Republic. "I hardly think so," he said,speaking as an officer, although as a man he knew that Rivas had stateda good reason, because he knew the reason to be true. "I hardly thinkso, Rivas," he said. "Merely because the wife of a man who betrayed theRepublic turns out to be a whore is no reason for the Republic to lovehim more."

  Fernando Rivas bent forward, as if he were trying to ward off a heavyseries of blows. "No," he said. "It is not reason enough."

  The thin body of Rafael Abelando shook with silent laughter for amoment, 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 havedied rather than say out loud. The boy was ready to give the traitorRivas his last chance. It was the moment Santiago had been waiting for;without Rafael's implicit confidence in his plan, he had all but decidedto 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 comesthrough, I'll tell you what I think. If he funks out on us, I'll slithis throat."

  "All right, Rivas," Santiago said. "We will give you your chance. Weneed 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. Wewant to get into the third floor of the Embassy, and we want to get outalive--and without shooting. Can it be done?"

  Rivas raised his head, stared into the faces of the three men who heldopen the gates of the Republic. "I am willing," he said. "It might takesome planning, gentlemen, but it can be done." He held out his hand toSantiago. The colonel accepted it.

  "I am glad you are with us," Santiago said. "In a sense, you are themost fortunate of the four of us. You see, Rivas, if we should all getkilled tonight, yours would be the most lasting memorial."

  "But why me, Colonel?"

  Santiago picked a heavy manila envelope up from the floor. He took outthe photographs of the memoir on Franco's Spain that Rivas had writtenin his own hand. "You see," he said, "if we should all die tonight, theCasa de la Cultura will publish your excellent memoir--with a postscriptabout your heroic sacrifice."

  "But how?" Rivas gasped. "Where?"

  "You are surprised, Rivas? Please let me assure you that there are manyof us. We are everywhere where _they_ are. _Claro?_"

  "I understand." For a fleeting moment Rivas had been back with theRepublic, a free man among free men. Now he was again a prisoner, butwith two jailers--Franco and the Republic. Now the Republic could forcethe other to destroy him. "Yes," he said, "I understand." The Republic,he knew, gave him his choice of executioners or his opportunity to fightfor his freedom.

  "Well?"

  "I am grateful," he said. "I am grateful for the chance to belong to theRepublic again."

  "Good. We must plan. Shall we drink on it?"

  There was a decanter of Scotch whisky on Dr. More's sideboard. Santiagofilled four glasses to the brim, then called for and filled a fifthglass. "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. Hequietly filled the man's glass, shoved the bottle toward him. Rivasdowned the second Scotch, reached for the bottle, then changed his mindas his hand was in mid-air.

  "Paper," Rivas said. "The desk. I must draw a floor plan of theEmbassy."

  * * * * *

  At eleven o'clock, Rivas let Santiago and his three friends into theSpanish Embassy through the rear door.

  At ten-thirty, a large but unscheduled military parade started windingthrough the streets of Old Havana. No one seemed to know what the paradewas about, but the soldiers in the ranks thought that it had somethingto do with a surprise party being given to General Jaime Lobo tocelebrate his promotion in rank. It was his old regiment which had beencalled out at nine that night and ordered into parade formation.

  At ten forty-five, the paraders were halted for some reason, and theGeneral's runners motorcycled down along the line of march and told thebandmasters to keep on playing the liveliest of tunes. The order reachedthe second band in the line just as it stopped in front of the SpanishEmbassy.

  A crowd gathered to listen to the band and watch the parade. Santiago,Hall, Rafael and Eduardo casually detached themselves from this crowd atprecisely eleven.

  Rivas led them quietly up the back stairs. The blare of the brasses, thebooming of the drums, the crashing of the cymbals penetrated everycorner of the Embassy. "God is with us," he said. "The noise iswonderful."

  Hall bit his tongue. A fat lot God had to do with it! He was crawlingbehind Santiago, the Swiss automatic in the right hand cocked at hiship. Eduardo was behind him, and ahead of Rafael. "Third floor," hewhispered. "We turn left at the head of the stairs and climb threesteps."

  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 threesteps which led to the library. "Go in with Rivas," he whispered toHall. "You too, Eduardo."

  They followed Rivas into the dark room. He was standing near a drapedwall, motioning to them to follow him quietly. "Behind the drape," hesaid. Eduardo closed in next to him. He frisked him for hidden knives orguns. "Don't move," he said.

  Santiago joined Eduardo and Hall. "Rafael is covering the door," hesaid. He motioned to Rivas to approach the drape. Eduardo remained atthe traitor's heels, the gun in Rivas's back. Hall knew what to do. Hewaited until Santiago flattened himself out against the wall whichparalleled the drape, then he quickly drew the cloth to one side. Hefound 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 soppingfingers against the front of his jacket, tried again. The tumblers ofthe lock rose and fell; the lock remained closed. Santiago slowlyreleased 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 adrink. It will steady your hands."

  "Many thanks."

  "Open it."

  "It's coming, Colonel."

  Santiago looked at the luminous dial of his wrist watch; eight minutesgone. The band would not be under the window all night. He beckoned toHall. "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 dooras wide as it would swing. He faced a multitude of locked steel drawers.

  "Let me," Eduar
do said. He changed places with Santiago. He was good atpicking such picayune locks; the concentration camp on the Isle of Pineswas full of native fascists whose careers ended when Eduardo jimmiedopen the locks that protected their secrets. He could crack them openswiftly, 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, hewore 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 openedthe wooden door. A book balanced precariously on an upper shelf behindthe door started to fall. He grabbed it with his left hand. A rash ofinvisible pimples spread over his scalp. Too much noise that time, eventhough the book didn't fall. He held his breath, counted to twenty. Theband 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 toSantiago that he had found it, but the colonel had again changed placeswith Eduardo, was now emptying documents from the little steel drawersto the inside of his shirt.

  Rafael, standing guard at the doorway, wildly signaled Hall to get towork on the files. He pointed vigorously to the non-existent watch onhis narrow wrist.

  Hall dug into the _Arriba_ pile. He pulled the top of the 1938 batch tothe floor, sat down in front of them. April. May. June. Not here.Impossible! He sneaked the remainder of the brandy into his throat. Onceagain. April. He looked at Santiago, working calmly; light flickeringover the papers in the drawers, eyes selecting the wheat from the chaff.The problem is April. It happened in April, 1938. Easy does it. AprilOne. 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 hisfeet, a yellowing newspaper in his hands. "Got it!"

  A door opened on the floor above. "Rivas?" someone on the fourth-floorlanding called.

  Rafael was still in the room. Santiago held his shoulder, shook hishead. Stay here, he motioned. He signaled for Rivas, handed him his owngun. He pointed to the third-floor landing, smiled at the man.

  The four men in the room covered the back of Fernando Rivas as headvanced toward the landing, the warm gun gripped firmly in his sweatyhand. 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. Anyonecould see Fourth Floor only meant conversation. Anyone but Rivas. To aman, the four behind Rivas prayed he would stall off the man above himwith 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, ofthe hearts thumping in the breasts of the four men in the room therefell a whining silence which was both hours long and seconds short. Thenthe silence was shattered by the crashing explosions of two heavypistols.

  "Let me." Rafael ran to the doorway, flattened out against the wall. Hiseyes took in the prone body of Rivas at the landing and the heap of mansprawled on the stairs. Rivas was dead. His gun lay near his head. Theman on the stairs still held onto his gun. Rafael reached behind him forthe silent weapon, the weapon you used on lone forays into enemyterritory, on guards in concentration camps.

  The knife flashed over his head, pinned the hand with the pistol to thewooden stairs. Behind the knife flew Rafael. Once again the blade wasraised, 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 toleave, melted into the crowd around the band. People on the sidewalkcould hear feet pounding heavily through the large empty rooms of theEmbassy. Lights were going on in all the dark windows. Yells. A woman'sscream.

  At the head of the parade, a baton twirled. The uniforms started to moveforward. The crowd on the sidelines followed the band.

  * * * * *

  Later, sitting in Lobo's office, the mass of documents from the shirtsof Santiago and Eduardo and Rafael on the desk before the general, Hallremembered his outcry when he found the picture of Ansaldo and the Axisofficers giving the fascist salute. My "got it!" got poor Rivas, hethought. 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 kepthis mouth shut. Rafael was good; finished off the bastard from theFourth Floor in seconds, and remembered to use a knife, and kept hismouth shut until it was all over. Funny the way he stood over whatremained of Rivas and said, "All right, now you're a Republican."Mocking, yet respectful. It was good; no forgiveness for the dead man'streachery but respect for his insane courage.

  "It was a nice band concert, yes?" Lobo said. "Plenty of bim bam boom inthe 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 hisbig mouth?"

  "It was my fault, Jaime. It was my big mouth."

  The General picked up a fistful of the documents which had cost the lifeof Fernando Rivas. "What the hell is his life worth compared to thelives of the hundreds of American seamen who now won't be sent to thebottom 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 tomorrowmorning I'll have at least twenty mucking bastards in the calabozothanks to what's in these papers; twenty fascist snakes who are the eyesand the ears and the oil and the water of the Nazi subs in this part ofthe 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 ofthem.

  _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 Departmentthese documents would be enough to put th
e Spanish Ambassador in thecalabozo 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 fourhours."

  "Four hours?"

  "Just a minute. That's my private phone. Yes, General Lobo speaking." Heput his hand over the mouthpiece. "Pick up the other phone. It's theSpanish Ambassador."

  "O.K."

  "Yes, Mr. Ambassador?"

  "General! Something terrible has happened."

  "Terrible?"

  "There's been a murder in the Embassy. Someone broke into the Embassyand 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 minutesafter 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. Itis terrible."

  "Who is the man?"

  "Elicio Portada, General Lobo. Poor Portada!"

  "Just a minute." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Listen to thoselies, will you? Only one body. Three hours to dispose of the Rivascarcass 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 foryou. As the representative of a friendly neutral, I am sure we can counton your co-operation."

  "What is it, General?"

  "We happen to have incontrovertible evidence that the late ElicioPortada was connected with a Nazi-Falange ring in direct contact withGerman submarine fleets in these waters. My immediate deduction is thathe 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 themeanwhile, thanks to your attitude as you now express it. I must remindyou that while the crime was committed on what is legally Spanishterritory, if you move the body one inch out of the Embassy grounds youwill 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. Notone 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 whathappened. And make up a list of all of Portada's friends. We'll find themurderer on that list, I'll warrant." He hung up the telephone with aslam.

  "Let him sleep that off," he laughed. "My super-dooper crime laboratorywill prove that the Ambassador lied about the time of the shooting. Mysuper-sleuths will find bloodstains on the third-floor landing--and Ihope to Christ Rivas has a different blood type than Portada. Mysuper-sleuths will keep a straight face when the fascists hand them thegun 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 ofcrime to the home of Fernando Rivas of the Spanish Embassy. Bring backfingerprints: best place to find them is liquor bottle, razor, hairbrush--and do it fast."

  "Good going."

  "I'll teach that fascist bastard to tell me nursery tales on thetelephone 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 berunning a circus for the next two weeks!"

  "I'll take a rain check on it, Jaime. Maybe I can come back in time forthe closing day."

  "Who knows?" Lobo sent for his aide, ordered microfilm copies of thedocuments to be ready in four hours. "And bring me the special belts andharnesses, Teniente."

  "Did you get me a seat on a Panair plane? I thought Figueroa would takecare of that."

  "Better than that, my boy." Lobo crossed the room, opened a panel in thewall. It revealed a closet filled with uniforms. "Get into one thatfits, Mateo. I have a seat for you on a Flying Fortress headed forCaracas."

  "_Yanqui?_"

  "_Yanqui._ You're traveling as Major Angel Blanco of my confidentialstaff. You are going south for me on a most delicate mission. You speakvery little English, and you stink from pomade. Besides, you wear thesethick glasses and you've been out on such a night of wild Latindebauchery that you sleep most of the time. In short, you are theAnglo-Saxon's dream of the stupid, conceited, lecherous Latin officerwho 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, theinside of the visor of your cap are filled with identical sets ofmicrofilms. Your pouch carries a letter from me to a General XYZ incode--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 profferedpomade into his black hair. "Do I carry any baggage?"

  "We'll pack you a bag. Two extra uniforms, pictures of your wife, yourmistress, 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 quiteget. Why did the Spanish Embassy crowd have to hide Rivas's body? Whycouldn't they admit that he did it?"

  Lobo adjusted Hall's tunic. "Elementary, my dear Watson," he said. "ThePortada blighter was sleeping with the Rivas bloke's wife. It's theAmbassador's job to avoid scandals within the happy family. AdmittingRivas killed Portada over a rag, a bone, and a hank o' hair would be aconfession the Ambassador couldn't run his own show. Elementary?"

  "No. You're improvising, and the notes sound all wrong. Let me knowabout 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'llintroduce 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 youwhat we did to those three Nazi heavyweights in San Souci in '39. _Madrede Dios_, Mateo, it was carnage!"

  Twenty steps down the corridor, a Negro technician was focusing a sharplens on page three of _Arriba_ for April 27, 1938. The picture whichspread across four columns of the top of the page was remarkably likethe picture Hall had carried in his mind since that day with Jerry inSan Hermano. The fans in the negative dryer were whirring overtwenty-odd other negatives. Lobo was right, Hall realized. They wereworth the life of one Rivas, they might yet take the life of a Hall. Thestakes were worth the risk. Kill the beast in San Hermano, drive a knifeinto its arteries, keep it from crawling north and its foul breathbeginning 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 childrenand not worry that some day they'd have to kill or be killed too. Killfor the same reasons the Rafaels and the Santiagos and the Lobos killand 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."