_Chapter seventeen_
The American Army plane banked sharply over the blacked-out Caracasfield. Three times the four-motored ship circled the airport, breakingits speed, rousing the men who controlled the lights along the correctrunways. During the second time around, Hall thought he saw a Douglaswith the bright green-and-white flag on its wings. He was not so surethe third time.
The pilot brought his ship in gently. It rolled down the new concretestrip, 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. Theplane was not through for the night; it was to take on more fuel andproceed to a base farther south.
Hall went to the small operations building. He showed his papers to asleepy official, had his passport stamped. "That Douglas on the otherend of the field," he said to the official, "is that the plane from SanHermano?"
The official didn't know. He offered to find out. "It is not ofimportance," Hall said. He left his bag with the official. "I will beready to go to the city as soon as the American plane takes off. Is thatcar for me?"
He went out to the field, stood chatting with the American flyingofficers as they stretched their legs and smoked while their plane wasreadied for the next leg of their flight. The boys were an agreeablesurprise, or they had a C. O. with brains; each of them spoke somedegree 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-condescendingpoliteness.
"I am going to ask General Lobo to thank you all for your kindness," hesaid. "You are, as they say in English, _damn regular guys_!"
The young captain, who had given Hall his life history and his Seattlehome 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 Seattleafter the war. Then I'll show you some real hospitality. _Entiende?_"
"Oh, I understand perfectly, Captain. And you must visit me, too. Youcan always reach me through General Lobo." Hall, who had calmlyappropriated the story of Lobo's boyhood and palmed it off on thecaptain as his own during the flight, began to laugh. "Oh, yes,Captain," he said, "we will have the most amazing reunion after thewar."
"Well," the American pilot said, "we're shoving off now."
Hall exchanged salutes and handshakes with the Fortress crew. "_Hastapronto_," he shouted, as the last man climbed aboard. He remained wherehe stood, waving at the Americans, when he saw the outlines of Segador'sthick shoulders emerging from the lighted doorway of the administrationbuilding. Segador was walking toward the Douglas.
He approached Hall, glanced at the Cuban uniform for a second, andcontinued on his way to the parked plane. There was no hint ofrecognition.
"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 yoube from San Hermano, by any chance?"
In the darkness, Segador's hand crept toward the huge pistol in hisholster. Hall held the unlighted match in his fingers. It wasunbelievable; he was still unrecognized. He had been speaking to Segadorin a disguised voice. "It is a very black night," he said in his normalvoice.
"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 hismouth.
"_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 confoundedblackness...."
"Is that the plane?"
"Yes. We can't take off until morning. I can't trust the night flyinginstruments. 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 toldhim about the documents on San Hermano which Santiago had taken from thesteel 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 betweenthemselves and any eyes that might be watching them from the fieldbuildings. "Quick," Hall said, "give me your belt and take mine. It isloaded with a complete set of negatives."
The exchange was completed in seconds. "I've got three duplicate setshidden on my person," Hall said. "Now they'll have to kill both of us tostop the truth from reaching San Hermano."
"I'm sleeping in the plane," Segador said. "You had better sleep intown. Did you arrange for a hotel, Mateo?"
"Lobo arranged a room for me through the Cuban Legation. There's adiplomatic car at the gate now, waiting to take me to town. What time dowe 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 themachine guns in the side panel of the Douglas. There was a young soldierat 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 meethim tomorrow."
"All right. But tell me one thing, if you can. It's been bothering mefor days. How did Ansaldo...?"
"Don't. I hate to think of it, Mateo. The fascists put us all in abottle. _El Imparcial_ ran a big story on the front page--they chargedthat 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!" hesaid, 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 histunic, opened his shirt collar, and put the Sam Browne belt with thehidden pockets on the bed beside him. It was to be a night of restwithout sleep, a night of relaxing on the unmade bed with a hand neverfarther than six inches from one of his two guns. Twice during the longnight he took benzedrine pills to keep awake. There could be no sleepuntil the plane was well under way.
* * * * *
The two-motored Douglas was warming her engines when the Cubandiplomatic car delivered Hall to the airport. "Drive right over to thatbomber," he ordered. "Fast."
"Hey," he shouted before the car could skid to a stop, "taking offwithout me?"
Segador, freshly shaven, stepped to the doorway of the plane. "No. Geton board. We were waiting. Toss me your grip."
Hall tipped the driver of the car with a five-dollar note. "Give me ahand, Diego. I'm not an antelope." Segador and the young sergeant pulledhim into the cabin.
"Meet my crew. Major Blanco--First Pilot Captain Millares, Co-PilotNavigator Lieutenant Cuesta, Sergeant Mechanic Ruiz. They are a pickedcrew, and they know what is at stake in this flight."
The flying officers were at the controls. They saluted Hall, bade himwelcome. "Snub Nose says we can take off," the captain told Segador.
"Then let's take off. Snub Nose, give Blanco a hand with his safetybelt. His hands are stiff."
The wiry little sergeant fastened Hall's belt. "A lot of good it will doyou if we ground-loop, Major," he grinned.
This one was a Spaniard. Hall knew it at once. Young, no more thantwenty-five, but very dry behind the ears. "_Chico_," he said, "if wecrash and I get hurt I'll murder you."
"You terrify me." Snub Nose was laughing with the animal glee of sheerhappiness in being alive. "But I like you. I brought a bucket along justfor you when you get air-sick."
"That's enou
gh out of you, General Cisneros!" the first pilot yelledinto the microphone in his fist. "Come on up to the office and stopbothering your betters."
"Call me when you feel sick," the boy roared at Hall, his strong-timbredvoice rising above the blasts of the engines. He went up forward, stoodbehind the pilots as the big plane taxied into position and took off.
"I examined the negatives last night," Segador said. "They are worth allthey 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 inthe bomb bay.
"I could use a few hours of sleep," Hall admitted. He made his way tothe pallet, covered himself with an army greatcoat.
He slept heavily, waking only to eat, to stretch his legs once when theylanded 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 blackpencil 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 werein diapers."
"I'm sorry," Snub Nose said, deliberately misunderstanding, "we can'tgive you a diaper, senor. Just make believe you're wearing a diaper ifyou have to jump."
Hall looked out of the window. The late afternoon sun was beginning towane.
"Look," Segador said, making a mark on the map. "We are here now. I'dplanned on crossing our own borders just after dark. But we had a strongtail 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 lasttwo 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 Reichswehrexperts running the army. Tabio kicked them out, but he neglected toshoot them. The bastards are everywhere now. We have to assume that theyknow I left the country in a Douglas bomber. You might have beenrecognized in Havana or in Caracas by Falangist agents. The Germans arealso able to put two and two together."
"I was very careful."
"But it cost two lives." Segador flipped a switch on the panel in frontof 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 inless than forty minutes."
"Good. Come back here, please." Then, while the co-pilot left his seatup front and started back to the seats near the bomb bay, Segadorcontinued talking. "Captain, you know what we must expect. The fliersare all loyal; I don't think they would shoot down one of our own planeswithout permission of their chief. But there are too many Germans in theA-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 thatput 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 enoughoxygen on board, and only the major knew that this was because the chiefof the air arm feared the new officers who handled the oxygen depot.
"Navigator, take a look at my map." The pencil traced a straight lineextending 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 anotherhundred miles into the country. "Snub Nose--how much flying time is leftin our fuel tanks?"
"Three hours."
The point of the pencil came to rest at the end of the line Segador haddrawn on the map. "Can we make this point on our gas and still haveenough left to fly back to San Martin Airport _from the north_? It wouldmean 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 thispoint. The plane is then to return and land at San Martin. You will thenmake your way to San Hermano by train and go directly to Gonzales bycar."
"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 Noseon the back as the youngster crawled into the glass bubble below thepilot'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 afighting plane. This time the feeling irritated him. For want ofsomething better to do, he took down a tommy gun from a rack nearSegador's seat and examined it for dust and grease. It was immaculatelykept. He laid it across his lap.
"Crossing the border now," the pilot announced.
The plane shot across the heavily wooded mountains, left them wellbehind in fifteen minutes. Hall followed the fading shadows of the planeas it sped over the foothills. In a few minutes, darkness would blot outthe shadows, and then he would again know the strangely exhilaratingfeeling 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. Thenavigator was making his readings under a shielded blue light. Millares,the pilot, pulled back on his stick, slightly, begging altitude at aminimum loss of air speed as he climbed to put more distance between theplane and the string of lower hills which lay across their course.
The navigator suddenly became very busy at his radio. "Major," he saidinto his microphone, "we are being called by a ground station. They'vespotted us. They want to know who is in command, and what flight thisis."
"Stick to your course," Segador answered. "Maximum speed." He crawledback to the main cabin.
"What shall I answer, Major?"
"Don't answer them. We'll just act as if we didn't pick up theirsignal."
"Yes, Major. They're repeating their request."
"Mateo," Segador said, "this is very bad. I don't know who controls theground station. We can't take chances. I'm jumping as soon as it getsdark."
"That's a matter of minutes."
"I know. Navigator, the plan remains the same, except that I jump in tenminutes. 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 willfall 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 inthe visor of his Cuban Army cap. "Let me leave this set of negativeswith Snub Nose. I have two more sets on me--in my Sam Browne and myboots."
"I have to think about it." Segador adjusted the harness of hisparachute. Then he picked up his microphone. "Snub Nose," he ordered,"come back here. Adjust the _companero's_ parachute. He's jumping withme."
"_Bueno._ I'll show him how to use it, too."
Hall and Segador formally shook hands with the rest of the crew beforethey jumped.
For a few long seconds, plunging face downward, Hall could not think. Hesaw the plane pass over his feet, silver wings etched against the darkceiling. H
e counted to seven, aloud, his voice lost in the wind. Then hepulled the release cord. There was the expected moment of tensing painas the silk clawed at the night air and the straps of the harness cutinto the insides of his thighs. In his mind's eye there was a picture hehad 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 himthe mail. Tear sheets on the series he'd done in Scotland. _Copyright1940 by Ball Syndicate Inc., Somewhere in England, April 19, 1940._ Thismorning I took my place in line inside of a converted Lancaster, watchedthe man in front of me lean out and tumble into the clear sky, and thendid 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'dsaid 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'sparachute. Tonight he was no Sunday supplement kibitzer taking a joyride 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. Hewas able to play the cords of the parachute, guiding the direction ofhis descent so that he followed Segador. There was little time to thinkof anything but the operation of the moment. Fortunately, it was a greennight. Like Segador, Hall could see from a thousand feet that they weredropping over a sloping meadow. At about two hundred feet, they couldsee 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 firstSegador, then Hall, dropped into their pasture. Segador broke free ofhis silk, ran over to help the American. "Careful," he said. "With somany sheep, there must be a herder around. Let me do the talking."
A man in a woolly sheepskin cape was following a cautious sheep dogtoward 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 slowlytoward the two men from the sky.
"He is afraid we might be Germans," Segador said. "They hate the Germansworse than the devil in the country."
"Who are you?" The shepherd was now quite close to them. Hall could seeat once that he was a Basque.
"Vasco?" Hall asked. He poured out a stream of Basque greetings. Theyserved 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 fifthcolumnists."
"Are you of the Republic?"
"Yes."
"The other. He is not of the Republic. His uniform is different, and hespeaks 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 stoodbetween him and the intruders. "If you are friends, you will give yourguns to the dog. I am without letters, but if you are friends, you canprove 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 groundfor your dog."
The shepherd addressed his dog in Euzkadi. The dog walked over to thegun, picked it up in his mouth, dropped it at the peasant's feet. Hethen made a trip for Hall's gun.
"You will walk in front of me," the shepherd said. "We will go towardthat stile." He picked up the two pistols, shoved them into his skinbag.
Segador started to laugh. "I salute your vigilance, shepherd. We had twoguns to your one. We could have shot you first. A coward would have runfor help, first."
"Cowards do not serve the Republic," the shepherd said. He remained tenfeet 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 onthe unpainted door.
An Indian woman with a mestizo baby in her arms stood in the doorwaywhen the three men reached the hut. "Let them in, woman," the shepherdordered.
The inside of the small hut was dark and bare. On a pallet in the farcorner, Hall could see the forms of children huddled in sleep, how manyhe could not tell. There was a stone stove, a hand-hewn table and twobenches. In another corner, a fragment of a tallow candle burnedfitfully under a dim portrait. Hall realized, with an inward start, thatthe 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 therifle in her hands.
"If you are of the Republic," the shepherd said, "you will allow me totie 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, whileher husband bound the hands of Segador and Hall behind their backs, andthen connected all four hands with a third length of rope.
"Send your woman for the educated man," Segador said. "But hurry. We areon 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 thevisitors with wide, frightened eyes. Segador grinned at them. His eyeswere growing accustomed to the darkness. "Go back to sleep, _ninos_," hewhispered. "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 thehospitality of this table." He started to roll a cigarette out of afragment 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 thecigarettes, put two in the mouths of Hall and Segador. He struck a ropelighter, started their cigarettes. Then, still without speaking, hefinished rolling his own cigarette and lit it. "If you are fifthcolumnists," he said, "I spit on your cigarettes." There was no rancorin his statement; it was a polite expression of simple logic.
His wife returned in a few minutes. She was with a nervous littlewhite-haired man who clung to the waistband of his alpaca trousers. Hecarried a shiny alpaca jacket in his free arm--this and the steel-framedglasses 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 importanceof the moment. "I am the Notary." He squinted down his nose at the twomen.
"Major Diego Segador, of the Republic. And this is my colleague, MajorAngel 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 nochances.
"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 theshepherd'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 admitthat I have never seen real Cuban papers." This was indeed a problem forthe Notary. He scratched his chin, importantly, cleared his throat witha 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 thatI have never seen real papers of our own army."
"Please," Segador said, "it is important that we get to San Hermano. Isthere anyone in this village who is not for the landowners or the mineowners or the Germans who has seen real papers? I ask this in the nameof Don Anibal Tabio, in whose name we undertook our mission."
"Justice will be done," said Bustamente
the Notary. "This is the era ofjustice, my good friends." He tried to punctuate his pronouncement withTabio's famous gesture. To do this he had to release his waistband, andhis trousers started to fall to his knees. From the pallet came achoking snicker.
"Silence!" Juan Antonio hissed to the kids on the dark pallet. "Showrespect for Bustamente the Notary." His wife, at the same time, restoredthe 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 puttingon his jacket.
"I am sure the Notary will dispense the justice of the Republic," theshepherd said.
"_Hombre!_ This is very serious," Bustamente the Notary whispered. Itwas a loud stage whisper. "We must consider our decision with carefulseriousness, Juan Antonio." He stepped outside of the hut.
Hall could hear his discussion with the shepherd. "The one who claims tobe of us," the Notary said, "he does not talk like an enemy of DonAnibal, 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. Justicebegins 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 allsuspects, Juan Antonio. Please tell me all you know about the twoofficers."
He listened to the simple recital of the facts. "Ay, it is as I haveobserved, _amigo_. There is much to be said on both sides. If they wereGermans or fifth columnists, perhaps they would have shot you first. Onthe other hand, since neither of us has ever seen a Cuban uniform, howcan we tell? And if they are ours, why did they drop from the sky intothe 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 fewminutes, and then they started to walk down the dirt street of thevillage. Hall and Segador sat patiently, without exchanging a word.Once, while they waited for the shepherd and the Notary, Segador toldHall 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 offull 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. "Andthank you, _Companero_ Shepherd. I am certain that your decision is thewisest one could make, and that we shall receive ample justice from theschool teacher of Puente Bajo. But tell me, how far is the village fromhere?"
"It is less than five miles, Major."
"I am content."
The shepherd undid the cord that connected the bound hands of Hall andSegador and, because their hands were still tied behind their backs, hehelped them mount the donkeys. He and the Notary climbed into the woodensaddles of their small horses, fastening the donkeys' leads to theirpommels.
Segador smiled at Hall, whose donkey was being led by the shepherd."Wonderful," he said. "Sancho leads the noble Don home from an encounterwith the sheep."
"Please, gentlemen," Bustamente the Notary said, sharply, "you are notto address one another. Justice begins in the village, andjustice"--again he aped Don Anibal's gesture--"and justice will bedone."
"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 theslope and turned toward the outlines of a larger village in the valley.They jogged toward the dim yellow lights of Puente Bajo, the shepherdpiercing the night quiet with the curses he flung at the heads of thedonkeys every time they balked.
At the outskirts of the town, Bustamente the Notary ordered a halt. "Ihave been thinking," he said. "It is my feeling that if the two on thedonkeys are of the Republic and innocent, then we will have committed anoffense against their sacred dignity if we lead them into Puente Bajofettered on mangy donkeys. I have therefore come to the conclusion thatperhaps it would be better for me to ride on alone to the school andbring the teacher back to meet us here, by the road."
"I can agree," the shepherd said. "But wait until I tether theirdonkeys." He dismounted, led the donkeys to the side of the road andtied 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 onefor yourself."
The shepherd declined with a serious face. "First," he said, "I musthear 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 ofmore wisdom than he returned out of breath; the school teacher fromtrotting after the short horse and the Notary from talking incessantlyto the pedagogue. The teacher was a compact mestizo in his earlytwenties, a short youth with a furrowed sloping Indian forehead andbright 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 forthe answer, he turned to the shepherd and began to berate him. "Youfool," he shouted, "untie his bonds at once. Do you know that he sat inEl Moro with Don Anibal?"
"I am without learning," the shepherd said.
"It is all right, teacher," Segador said. "The _companero_ did hisduty--and he did it properly. Undo my hand, Juan Antonio, so that I mayshake your hand."
"I am sorry, _companero_," the school teacher said to the shepherd. "Ispoke to you without thinking."
"What is your name, teacher?"
"I am called Pablo Artigas." He helped Hall and Segador get off thedonkeys. "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 Ibelonged 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 youride 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 shysmile. "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 toSan Hermano. First, Lobo. Then, today, the man from Spain. Then ..."Felipe Duarte could not sit still. He walked around Hall's room at theBolivar 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 ofyour negatives--as well as a report on Androtten. I don't know what's inthe Androtten report yet; all I know is that the American IntelligenceService 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 woodswith Segador and the school teacher and the Notary's mules." _Mateo, ehMateo, what did you see in the shepherd's hut? Tabio's picture? All Icould 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. "Athousand things. Cerrorico. The mining stronghold. Segador said thecommunists had a good press and that they were reliable. He wasn'tkidding. They must have run off a million leaflets with reproductions ofthe Ansaldo pic
tures and the Havana documents by the time I left."Later, he would tell Duarte about the ride from Cerrorico in the enginecab 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 andill-fitting reservist's uniform and drove a small army lorry. Segadorhad gone ahead on an earlier train.
"You should have seen the leaflets yesterday, Mateo. Just as the funeralprocession was at its greatest the army planes appeared overhead andstarted to drop the leaflets by the ton. And an hour after the leafletsfell from the skies, the pro-United Nations papers were all over thecountry with front-page reproductions of the pictures and thedocuments."
"And all that time I was sleeping on an ore train. Who is this man fromSpain you mentioned, Felipe?"
"It is fantastic! After Mogrado got my message, he rounded up twoSpanish Army surgeons who knew Ansaldo. They made affidavits, too. Thatisn't the half of what Mogrado did. He reached the Spanish undergroundin Spain via a cable to Lisbon. And this morning the Clipper came infrom 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 recognizeshim. 'He is a fraud, a _rojo_, a defiler of nuns and an arsonist ofcathedrals!' he shrieks. It's fantastic! The man with the papers lifts aheavy fist and he lets fly with a blow that knocks out the fascist'sfront teeth. 'Baby killer!' he hollers, and then he turns around to theairport officials and he says he is a Mexican citizen who used fakepapers to escape from Spain and he demands that they take him underguard to the Mexican Embassy. In the meanwhile he says they'll have tokill him if they want to take his papers before he is delivered inperson 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 aSpanish citizen and an agent of the Comintern."
"Who is he?"
"He is a Spaniard, of course. The underground sent him. They had cadresin the office of the Falange National Delegation. They took out theFalange 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. Iwas in the next room, listening to him as he told the Ambassador thathis name was Joaquin Bolivar. Then I walked in, the sweet light ofrecognition on my ugly face, shouting 'Joaquin! My old University pal,Joaquin! Don't you recognize your old Felipe Duarte?' The Ambassadorjust watches me. The man's papers are still in a sealed envelope beforehim.
"It is enough for him. He slams his hands down on the papers and says heclaims them in the name of his government. 'I will take theresponsibility for Senor Bolivar,' he says. 'I have reason to believe heis 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 adeposition 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. Butthat isn't all. Do you remember the picture of Ansaldo that started youoff 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 acollection of _Avance_--that was the Falange organ in San Juan, startingwith issue number one. When he sees the picture of Gamburdo embracingAnsaldo--it was on the front page of _El Mundo_ in San Juan--a bellrings in his head. He starts going through his _Avances_, and what doyou 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_ betweenthe linings, and arrives at the San Hermano airport last night. Hedoesn't stop. He takes his bag straight to the editor of _LaDemocracia_, 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 arush to get here that I left it in my office. I tell you, all roads leadto San Hermano. Every time I hear a plane overhead, I think, aha! moreanonymous Republicans and underground agents and Cuban generals arecoming 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 fighthim. Mogrado, Fielding, Duarte, Segador, Rafael, Pepe, Vicente,Iglesias, even poor Rivas for all his cringing and breast-beating--thearmy 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 along row to hoe. Your State Department has been distributing judicioushints that a unilateral policy toward Franco will upset the apple cart.They're after an all-Hemisphere policy toward Spain. All that this meansis that none of the countries, except my own, will dare to break withFranco 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 dousedhis face with bay rum, patted it with a towel. "When did they call thetroops up? Pepe started to tell me about it when he drove me over lastnight, but I fell asleep as soon as he got started."
"Three days ago, Mateo. There was a meeting of the Student Council toAid the United Nations at the University. The hall was packed. Then theCross and Sword gunmen stormed the entrances and fired point blank intothe crowd. There were over fifteen deaths, and so many injured that theUniversity authorities established an emergency hospital in five lecturerooms. Your Jerry has been there since. The commanding general of thisarea 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 usboth for lunch at the Embassy."
"I'll make it. Let's go. Oh, one more thing. I put through some calls toNew York. And some are coming in. I gave your office as one of theplaces 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 youaccomplished. I'm proud of you, Matt."
"I worried about you," he said. "Were you scared when you found yourselfin a war zone?"
"No. Just angry. Maria Luisa was at the meeting when the shootingstarted. She wasn't hurt, thank God, but she was a bloody mess when shegot home. Gonzales and I left for the University at once. I've beenhere, 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 totransfer 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 shutthe door. He told Hall that the early returns were overwhelmingly infavor of Lavandero. "Yes, senor," he laughed, "the fascists are on therun today. The lines formed outside of the polling places three and evenfour hours before they opened. Did you see what fell from the planesyesterday? Did you see the papers? Those dirty fascists!"
Duarte had figures to back up the cab driver's story when Hall reachedthe Mexican Embassy. "It is a wonderful victory, Mateo," he said. "Thetide is runn
ing so strongly that Gamburdo is expected to concede theelection 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'llbet you haven't seen one yet."
The leaflet was the size of a standard newspaper page, printed on bothsides. There was the large picture of Gamburdo embracing Ansaldo smackup against the shot of Ansaldo, in fascist uniform, giving the fascistsalute along with the Nazi and the Italian officers. Most of the Falangedocuments proving the Axis ties of Gamburdo and the Cross and Sword werealso reproduced on the single sheet.
"It turned the election," Duarte said. "Until yesterday, the fascistswere spreading the story that Lavandero had kept Ansaldo from operatingin time. Gamburdo was so anxious to grab the credit for Ansaldo that hedug 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 Cubanofficer's uniform."
"It's in shreds, Jaime."
Lobo eased his long frame into Duarte's favorite chair. "I thought you'dnever gotten through," he said. "After the second day of silence I wassure the fascists had clipped your wings. Don't bother to tell me aboutyour hardships, though. I've already seen Segador."
"Everyone has seen Segador," Hall laughed. "Everyone but me. When thehell 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'sdaughter here told him that you are an agent of the Comintern. He toldme that he knew she was crazy. He asked me to tell you that he's astraight-shooter and he wants to speak to you. In a friendly way, ofcourse. 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 atthe 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'soffice at three. "He sounds human," Hall admitted.
During their luncheon, Lobo told Hall and Duarte what he had learnedabout Androtten from the American Government. The man was a German namedSchmidt or Wincklemann (he had used passports in both names) who had arecord as a German agent which went back to 1915. He had spent some timein Java, some years in Spanish Morocco, and the year of 1935 living in avilla at Estoril, the beach resort outside of Lisbon. "The recorddoesn't say what he was doing in Portugal," Lobo said. "My guess is thathe was working with Sanjurjo."
"I'd back you on that," Hall said. "The old rumhound needed someone tohold his hand before the war."
"There are blank spaces in the record after that," Lobo said. "The nextentry is the spring of 1938, when your Androtten was known asWincklemann. He turned up in Rome as an art dealer specializing inSpanish masterpieces. He sold two Goyas and a Velasquez to three richladies in the British colony; told them the paintings were from theprivate collections of Spanish noblemen who had been ruined by the_rojos_. He was lying, of course--the paintings had all been taken fromSpanish museums by the Nazis. Wincklemann disappeared, and the ladiesfinally sold the paintings back to the Franco government in 1940 for thesame price. The last mention of Wincklemann or Schmidt is a paragraphfrom a letter mailed to Washington from Mexico in July, 1941. The letterwas from the junta of Dominican opposition leaders and mentioned aGunther Wincklemann as one of four Nazi agents who had been guests ofTrujillo in the Dominican capital that month."
* * * * *
Hall borrowed an empty office in the Mexican Embassy for his appointmentwith the American officer. It went off well. Barrows was aplain-speaking man in his early forties, with the handshake of a youngand vigorous boiler maker. He had a nice, unhurried way about him, hisfrosty blue eyes surveying Hall with good humor while he fussed with histhick-walled pipe. "I'd heard all sorts of conflicting stories aboutyou," 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 beentrying to get this pipe started for days." He refused a cigar. It was amatch that he wanted. Hall had a lighter whose flame burned long enoughto light the pipe. "There now," he said, "now we can talk. I know thatyou heard about the Ambassador's report. If it will make you feel anybetter, 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 needyour advice. Unofficially, of course. But I need it. It's about thereports that the late Roger Fielding made to the British Embassy. Yousaw 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 thinksthat after the job you and Lobo did in Havana that he ought to turn theoriginals of the Fielding reports over to the government. What hedoesn't know is who to hand them to. He wants to know who will use themand who will burn them. He thought that since you were an American, he'dask me to get your slant on it."
"I get it," Hall said. "You want one guy who is certain to be ananti-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 hasbeen sinking our shipping in the South Atlantic and the Caribbean at arate that spells one hell of a long war. I know, as you do, thatFalangist Spaniards on shore are working with the Nazi undersea raiders.But even if we wanted to, we couldn't send enough Marines to SouthAmerica to root 'em out. We've got to rely on the local governments todo the job."
"Yeah." Hall was bitter. "We want this Republic to root out theFalangists, so we send an Ambassador who plays footy with the Falangistsin 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. Wewant the Latin American Republics to get tough with the Franquists whoare helping the Nazis sink our ships, so we sell the Spanish fasciststhe oil they transfer to the Nazi subs, and we send an Ambassador toMadrid whose only exercise is kissing Franco's foot in public everySunday morning, and when any of our sister Republics want to break withFranco we dispatch a sanctimonious buzzard in striped pants from theState Department and he tells them to lay off Franco, Spain's Saviourfrom Atheism and Communism. How in the hell can we expect the LatinRepublics to crack down on Franco's stooges at home when we ourselvesplay up to Franco in Madrid?"
"Let's have that lighter again." Barrows was cool and unruffled, thesmile that danced across the smooth lines of his face never wavered."I'm a soldier," he said, pleasantly. "I can't discuss policy. I canonly talk tactics. You know that, Hall. Tactics is the art of workingwith an existent situation and licking it--not waiting for themillennium. 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 puttingthe finger on our ships. Fielding's reports might be accurate. If we areto act on them, we need the help of pro-Allied members of thisgovernment. Who is our man?"
"There is one man in these parts who can be trusted completely to do theright things with those reports," Hall answered. "Give him the reports,and after the polls close he'll be in a position to round up everyfascist Fielding listed and put them on ice for the duration. He's anarmy man--Major Diego Segador."
"And you think he's our man, eh? Would you mind writing his name in mybook, and the best place to
reach him?"
Hall carefully printed the information Barrows wanted and then, as hereturned the book, he said, deliberately, "But there's one thing youshould know about Segador. He's everything I said he is, and more. Buthe's also a leftist. He's very close to the Communist Party."
"So what?" Barrows said, casually. "The Russians are killing plenty ofGermans, and I understand their chief is a member of the party, too. Mannamed 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 theduration? Ever think of G-2?"
"Yeah. I applied before Pearl Harbor. They turned me down so hard Ithought I was hit by a truck. I applied again on December 8th, 1941. Itwas still no soap. I was for the Loyalists in Spain, you know. That mademe what the brass hats term a 'premature anti-fascist' and definitelynot officer material."
"I didn't know about that," Barrows said. "What would you do if the doorwas opened for you now? Understand, I'm not making an offer. I'm justasking."
"I don't know," Hall said. "I don't think the door would be opened. Ifit 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, andrecognized it as the officer's neat device for creating a break in aconversation that needed breaking. Barrows had a way of making theritual of lighting his pipe serve as the curtain that falls on a givenscene of a play.
"The Ambassador," Barrows smiled. "He's been tearing his nice white hairsince 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 meabout him a few days before he died? He said that he was with Skidmoreat a dinner a few days after Germany invaded Russia and that Skidmoresaid he was glad that now the Russians would get what was coming tothem."
"Not really?"
"Lavandero was there. He'll back me up." Hall stopped. "Say, I have anidea," he said. "There's one thing I can do for G-2. I can write areport 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 inwith 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 thatyou'll have trouble getting passports and visas."
"I don't give a damn," Hall said. "And I'll do something else. You gaveme an idea. I'm still a civilian, you said. Swell, then I won't beclimbing over anyone's brass hat if I see to it that a copy of thereport reaches the White House."
Barrows leaned back in his chair, laughing. "He told me that youthreatened to do just that," he said. "But he's just a harmless oldduffer, 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 shesleeps around plenty. But her political life is more important to G-2than her sex didoes."
"Gossip?"
"Fact. She's secretly engaged to be married to the man who killedFielding. The Marques de Runa. But don't worry--he'll never be broughtto trial for it. He's in Spain. Left by Clipper over a week ago with hischauffeur, the man who actually ran poor Fielding down."
The officer from Miami laid his pipe down on the desk. "This is prettyserious," he said. "I don't want to get it all by ear, old man. Wouldyou mind talking while it was taken down? Not only about MargaretSkidmore. About everything you can give your Uncle about the Falange?Facts, names, addresses, opinions--the works. I brought a younglieutenant with me from Miami; he was a crack stenographer in civilianlife. 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'dbe alone."
* * * * *
Hall spent the rest of the day at Gonzales', dictating to thelieutenant. While they worked, Duarte phoned to tell him that Gamburdohad formally conceded the election. "What are your dinner plans?" heasked 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 Jerryand Pepe and Vicente and Souza at the Bolivar. Lobo is tied up for theevening."
"I'll join you when I can, Mateo."
Later, when the American officers left, Hall tried to reach his friendsby phone. Arturo, the desk clerk, told him that Souza had taken the dayoff and that Pepe and Vicente had been called up with the reserves. Hegave Hall a list of numbers where he might possibly find Pepe. Hallfinally reached him at the Transport Workers' Union. "Can you eat withme tonight?" he asked.
"Yes. Where are you? Our officers just handed us our new orders. I am tobe 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 ourorders."
"I am at Gonzales'. Can you pick me up now?"
"At once."
The sergeants were there in fifteen minutes. Pepe now drove an Army carwhose color matched his uniform. They drove to the University for Jerry.
Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling the city, guarding both the Axisdiplomatic 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 theycongregated under the government's loud speakers in the plazas and thebroad avenues. Even though Gamburdo had already conceded his defeat, thepeople awaited the results of each new count, cheered each new electoralrepudiation of the Falange candidate. Everywhere the sidewalks, thegutters, the doorways of stores and buildings were littered with wholeor 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 lastSpanish elections, too."
"_De nada_," Vicente said, grimly. "Let them try to make a secondSpanish War in our Republic. We'll drown them in their own blood."
Jerry was waiting for them on the University steps. "Matt, it wasamazing. Translate for me, will you? I think Pepe and Vicente would liketo know, too. As soon as the word was flashed to the wards thatLavandero won the election, the serious cases started to pull through,and the others are just about ready to dance. I've never seen anythinglike it!"
Duarte joined them as they were finishing their soup. He was pale andupset. "The Axis got the news pretty quickly," he said. He picked up abottle 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 Gamburdoquit, a Nazi submarine deliberately sank one of the Republic's unarmedfreighters. 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 survivorsbefore they surfaced again and sank each of the boats with their deckguns."
"When did you find out?"
"Hours ago. I kept quiet because I wanted to make sure about Souza. Nowit'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 fromRadio City in New York. They want you to broadcast to America at teno'clock tonight. The Siglo station has the hook-up here."
The clock on the Bolivar dining-room wall read eight
-thirty. "I'd bettergo right over," Hall said. "Eat and wait for me here, Felipe. Don'tbother to drive me, Pepe. I'll walk. It's less than two blocks. Havesome 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 withhis sleeve, glanced at his notes. "For a few hours this afternoon herein San Hermano," he said into the microphone, "most of us believed thatvirtue is its own reward, that the truth by itself is the most powerfulweapon in the hands of a democracy.
"At three o'clock this afternoon, the fascist candidate for thepresidency of this Republic conceded defeat in an election marked by thedramatic revelation of his ties with the Falange in Madrid and the Nazisin Berlin. There was no bloodshed, no disturbances. Democracy had scoreda bloodless victory in San Hermano.
"For thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds, the elections remained atriumph for the ideals of the late president, Anibal Tabio, a man in thetraditions of our own Abraham Lincoln. It was Tabio's life-long beliefthat '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 inthe power of good and decency and progress and had too little fear ofthe fascist powers of evil abroad in this world.
"At exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds after the fascistGamburdo conceded the elections to his Popular-Front opponent, thepeople of this Republic learned that the world has grown much smallersince Lincoln declared that no nation could exist half slave and halffree. 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 atotal war. The people of this democracy struck at the Axis today byoverwhelmingly defeating the Axis candidate at the polls. It took theAxis exactly thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds to answer thedemocratic people of this free nation. The answer was delivered by thetorpedoes and deck guns of a Nazi submarine lurking thirty miles fromthe docks of this port...."
He talked on, glancing at the station clock frequently. There was a lothe wanted to cram into his fifteen minutes. If possible, he hoped, hewould be able to get in a few words about the big feature story on thefront page of the bulldog edition of _El Imparcial_.
It was a long and lachrymose account of how Mexico was suffering becausethe food of the nation was being rushed to the American armed forces andhow the war had forced inflation and shortages on that sufferingCatholic country whose people had no quarrel with Hitler and no love forthe 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 featuredon page one of the nation's leading pro-Franco paper tomorrow," he said."This is the Falange line for Latin America. This is the unnecessaryacid the Axis is preparing to inject into the very real wounds LatinAmerica is suffering and will suffer from this total war."
The announcer standing at the other microphone drew his hand in front ofhis own throat. Hall's time was up.
Jerry rushed into the studio from the anteroom, where she had beenlistening to the talk over the studio radio. She kissed him, took hishand as they went downstairs and into the narrow street which led to thePlaza 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'dbetter do while we still have a chance. I used to think I belonged inthe army. The army doctors rejected me for combat service; I'm toobanged up. Twice I tried to get into Intelligence, the first time beforePearl Harbor. They wouldn't touch me with a fork. Saturday, ColonelBarrows hinted that they were less squeamish about acceptinganti-fascists into G-2. He hinted that maybe I could get an Intelligencecommission."
"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 thefascists in our own way. We won't get Legion pins and ribbons andbonuses after it's all over, and the only uniforms we'll ever get towear will be decoy outfits like the one I wore when I left Havana. Butthe fight will be the same, and the enemy will be the same. And we won'thave to worry about getting stuck on an inactive front. We can pick ourfronts.
"When it's all over, we'll go to Spain and we'll spit on Franco's graveand I'll show you where a great man named Antin died and where a kidlieutenant named Rafael killed fourteen fascists with one gun and we'llwalk down the Puerta del Sol in Madrid with the most wonderful peopleI've ever known--what's left of them--and we'll dandle black-eyedSpanish kids on our knees until our guts begin to ache for kids of ourown and then we'll make a kid of our own and fly back so he'll be bornin Ohio like his folks and grow up to be a good anti-fascist Presidentor at least an intelligent American Ambassador to San Hermano. Ah, I'mtalking like a fool, baby, talking like a drunk in a swank bar offSutton 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 Cabinetand a quorum of the legislature, meeting at six o'clock tonight, haveunanimously voted that President-Elect Esteban Lavandero should be swornin as President immediately. At ten o'clock tonight, President Lavanderotook his oath of office from the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court inthe 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 allparties," Lavandero began. "This afternoon, at three thirty-fiveo'clock, a submarine which has been positively identified as being ofGerman nationality torpedoed a ship bearing the flag of our Republicwithin our national waters. The ship was sunk. The survivors and the menon the boats which set out from shore to rescue them were shelled bythis submarine. The losses have been enormous. At the last officialcount, we had lost over eighty citizens, all victims of fascistbestiality.
"Tomorrow, I shall go before the Congress and speak for a declaration ofwar against the Axis. Tonight, my first official act has been to promoteMajor Diego Segador to the rank of Colonel for outstanding services toour Republic, and to appoint him Emergency Chief of the Defense of SanHermano. I have asked Colonel Segador to speak to you now."
Hall put his arm around Jerry. "The war has come to us," he said. "Wedon't have to look for it any longer."
"Citizens," Segador said. "Our city is in sight of a wolfpack of Nazisubmarines of undetermined size. The lights of our city are therefore atthe service of the fascist enemy. If you are on the streets, go intoyour houses, or into the nearest cafes or other buildings. If you areindoors, put out your lights, wherever you are. In five minutes, thestreet lights of the city will be turned off. This announcement is beingrecorded, and will be repeated for the next thirty minutes, or as longas one light remains lit in San Hermano. Our lights are the eyes of thesubmarines--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. Sailorsoff shore ..."
They stood together, watching the people hurry off the streets, watchingthe lights go out in the lamp posts, in the cafes, in the houses of theold Plaza. They remained near the loud speaker, listening to theannouncement repeated, listening to the national anthem, listening,finally, to the dark silences of the night. They remained frozen to thecobbles of the Plaza de la Republica which had been born in the days ofthe empire as the Plaza de Fernando e Isabel and whose cobbles bore theshadows of the edifices of the Conquistador generations and the Seguragenerations and the democratic decade. Monuments of all manners of liferose in dark, brooding piles on all sides of the Plaza; the slave lifeand the life that was half slave and half free and the free life whichnow had to fight fo
r its freedom. In the dark Plaza, they could almosthear 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 beafraid again."
"I know," he answered. "That's what this war is about, baby. It's thewar of the people who are not afraid to live their own lives. Let's goback 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 willall 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 himin the blackout. "We cracked the thick skull of the Falange today,_companeros_, but the black heart is still pumping."
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