_Chapter five_
He was dreaming of the crowds in the bull ring at Badajoz, but therewere no bulls on the sand. It was the day of the massacre, the day whenthe Portuguese troops herded the _milicianos_ and their families andhanded them over to the waiting _franquistas_ on the Spanish side of theborder. It was the day the _franquistas_ shoved the Republican familieson to the sand of the bull ring at Badajoz and set up the heavy machineguns in the boxes and fired away until every human being on the fieldlay choking and dying in his own blood. In his dream Hall saw grandladies in mantillas in the boxes that day tossing roses and perfumedkerchiefs to the animals at the machine guns, and in his dream he evenknew that the perfume on the kerchiefs came from a certain shop inBarcelona.
Then Hall spotted a crowd of German and Spanish officers in another boxand he leaped at them, his right hand gripping the ugly clasp knife inhis pocket. There were nine officers in the box, four of them Nazis andone a gaudy Italian colonel and the rest were Spanish fascists in capesand one of them wore a Requete beret, although his cape carried thegolden embroidered five arrows of the Falange. They began to flee fromtheir box in a panic, but Hall managed to get a quick look at one of theSpaniards and then flung his knife at the Spaniard's retreating back.Then the bells began to toll in the churches and carabineros left theirmachine guns and ran barehanded after Hall but the clang of the bellsstarted to blot everything out and the church bells of Badajoz blendedinto the steady drone of a smaller bell in Hall's ears and he awoke tothe phone bell which had abruptly brought him back to San Hermano.
"Did I wake you up?" It was Jerry.
"Yeah. What time?"
"Stop groaning. Wash your face and I'll call you back in five minutes."
Later, she asked him if he had been having a bad dream and he said ithad been closer to a nightmare in technicolor. "About the war?" sheasked, and he said it had been about the war.
"Darling," she said, "I wish you never have another nightmare as long asyou live."
"Thanks," he said. "Do we have breakfast together?"
"No. I'm leaving with the doctors in a few minutes. Work all day."
"Dinner tonight?"
"That's out, too. I have to go to a party with the doctors at theAmerican Embassy."
"Good. I was invited, too. I'll see you there." There was a long pauseat the girl's end of the wire, and Hall said, "Jerry? Are you stilllistening?"
"Sure," she said.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. You're a darling. I've got to hang up now. I've got to be outof here in ten minutes."
"O.K.," he said. "See you tonight."
He reached the lobby at half-past eight. There was no message in hisbox, and he could see that Jerry's key was already in the cubicle. "I'llbe in the dining room if anyone phones," he told the day clerk. Hebought a paper from a boy standing near the entrance of the Bolivar andwent in to eat.
Hall was having his second cup of coffee when Androtten entered thedining room. The little Dutchman smiled happily when he spotted Hall.
"Good morning, good morning," he shouted. "Hell of a nice day, no?"
"It's nice and sunny," Hall said. "Eating alone? Take a chair."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Hall. Damn nice of you."
Hall wanted to shove the incongruous hells and damns down the pink faceof the Hollander. "Not at all," he said. "I like company." But thebeaming Dutchman brought goose pimples to his spine this morning.
"Excuse me," Hall said, rising. "I'll be back in a minute."
He went to the desk, picked up a pad of cable blanks and an indeliblepencil. Then, at the table, he sat with pencil poised over the pad andsmiled at Androtten. "Mine is a funny business," he said. "When you getto the capital of a country you can't go right to work, you know. Farfrom it, Androtten. First you smooch around the town like a prowler,talking to taxi drivers and bartenders and ..."
"Pardon my ignorance, Mr. Hall. But _smooch_? Is it a real word orjournalists' slang?"
"I guess you'd call it slang. I mean you have to mingle with the littlepeople to get an idea of the currents."
"And when you get this idea?"
"When you get the idea, you can go to work." Hall wrote the name andaddress of the editor of one of the big weeklies in the States on theblank. "Vice-President Gamburdo is man of hour here today," he wrote."Tomorrow may be man of hour in all Latin America. Arranging forinterview. Can you use? Matthew Hall."
"And now you are working?"
Hall turned the blank around so that Androtten could read the text ofhis cable. "I'll let you in on my secret," he laughed.
The Dutchman read the text. "Interesting," he said. "Damn interesting."
"I'm afraid it's just routine."
"Oh, never that." The Dutchman sighed. "When such vital personalities asSenor Gamburdo are routine to you, Mr. Hall, I imagine that my story hasonly a small chance of ever being told. But I suppose that is merely asit should be."
"Hell, no, Mr. Androtten. I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as I havemy interview with Gamburdo, we'll sit down and have our chat and thenI'll query the _Saturday Evening Post_ or _Collier's_ and whatever theyoffer we'll split down the middle."
"You make me happy as hell, Mr. Hall. But please, money is no object.Please keep all of the money."
Hall shook his head. "We'll fight that out later," he said. "Cigar?"
Androtten demurred. His heart was not strong enough for cigars thatearly in the morning, he explained. "In Java I was healthier than anox," he said. "But the damn Japanese ..." He let the rest of thesentence remain unspoken.
Through the open window of the dining room, Hall saw Pepe's LaSalledrive up to the Bolivar.
He excused himself with an "I'll be seeing you," and walked out to thedesk. He handed the cable blank to the day clerk. "Send it press ratecollect," he said.
Pepe had a message for Hall from Souza. Ansaldo had returned to theBolivar at 3:14 A.M., twenty-three minutes before Wilhelm Androtten.They had both left calls to be awakened at eight in the morning.
"That all Souza said?"
"That is the complete message."
"Well, it's something, anyway." The papers said that Ansaldo was tospend the morning at the bedside of President Tabio.
"Where to?"
"Gobernacion Building. But not right away. Drive somewhere where we canhave a coffee together. I'd like to talk to you first."
Pepe took him to a little workers' restaurant on the edges of thebusiness section of New San Hermano. It was evident that he had hadlittle sleep.
"Tired?" Hall asked.
The driver whistled, softly. "Like a corpse," he admitted.
An amused grimace distorted Hall's face. "What a corpse!" he said. "Whydidn't you tell the boys who followed the teachers and me from the cafelast night to be better than the little dog?"
"You saw them?"
"I kept tripping over them all the way home."
Pepe thought it was very funny. "They pledged their lives to protectyours, the bunglers. Reliable, but clumsy."
"I am not angry," Hall said. "I am grateful."
"For nothing," Pepe protested.
"Pepe, do you know why I came to San Hermano?"
The big Asturian shrugged his shoulders. "You never told me, orFernando. Miguelito and his friend said you have the mouth of a clam."
"Do you want to know why?"
"I never question friends. You are a friend."
Hall looked up at Pepe Delgado and wanted to tell him how much hereminded him of the best of the men he had met in Spain, the best of theofficers and _milicianos_ who never, even in the heat of battle, forgotthe feelings and the sacred _dignidad_ of their fellow men.
"Mother of God!" Pepe laughed. "Don't look at me as if I were that girlwith the red hair."
"You are a good _companero_," Hall said. "In a few days, perhaps I cantell you."
"I never ask questions of friends," Pepe said.
"I know. Did Souza tell you what I told him last night?"
"No. Only about when Ansaldo and Androtten came back."
"Can you reach Souza today?"
"Of course."
"Then listen. Tonight, he must find some excuse for moving me into theroom next to Ansaldo--if there is such a room. Do you think he can doit?"
Pepe grabbed the check for the coffee, refused to relinquish it to Hall."This is my table," he said with quiet dignity. He also refused todiscuss his fee for driving Hall around San Hermano for days."_Manana_," he laughed. "But about the room. I think Fernando canarrange it. The wife of the owner of the Bolivar is a member of theCentro Asturiano. She is also a first cousin of Dr. Gonzalez."
"I hope he can do it," Hall said.
"_Hola!_" Pepe boomed. "_Que tal?_" He exchanged loud pleasantries witha chauffeur who came in and sat down at a table in the corner.
"A Gallego," he explained to Hall. "But otherwise a pretty decent man."
"There are many decent Gallegos," Hall said.
Pepe whistled through his teeth, shook the limp and dangling fingers ofhis right hand, and looked behind his back. Hall grinned. Pepe's gesturewas as old as Spain.
"Listen, Pepe," he laughed, "we have much to do. And all in a very shorttime. I am going to see the Press Secretary in the Gobernacion. I amrequesting an interview with Gamburdo."
"Gamburdo is a _cabron_," Pepe said.
"I know. In my eyes he is an _hijo de la gran puta_. But for the presentI want Gamburdo and his friends to think that I am an admirer of the_cabrito_. Clear?"
"I think I understand."
"Good. Tell all of this to Souza when you drop me at Gobernacion. Whencan you see him?"
"I will try to see him at once."
"_Bueno._ Let's go, then."
In the car, Hall had a fresh idea. "This young Juan Antonio, theteacher. Is he really a Communist?"
"Yes."
"Member of the party?"
"Of course. He writes for _Mundo Obrero_ regularly."
"Good. If you see him, ask him to go to the Communist headquarters andfrom there to telephone a friend. From there, understand? Tell him tocall any friend. No, wait. Make it a friend in the office of _MundoObrero_. I want him to denounce me to this friend as an admirer ofGamburdo and an enemy of Tabio."
"But why?"
"I have an idea that Gamburdo has made some changes since he becameActing President," Hall answered. "If he has, he's got some Cross andSword bastards listening in on all Communist phones."
"It is possible," Pepe said. "I will discuss your idea with JuanAntonio."
"Talk him into it, Pepe."
Pepe stopped the car in front of the Gobernacion building. He promisedto meet Hall at the Bolivar in two hours.
Hall entered the polished marble corridors of the Gobernacion. There wasa popular song about this building. Hall thought of the words, writtenby no known poet, and yet so well known in the nation that it had becomethe unofficial anthem of the Hermanitos in the guerrilla armies whichhad fought the Seguristas. Even today, after nearly three decades, SanHermano youngsters learned the words from slightly older playmates whenthey were barely old enough to play by themselves. Somehow, the kids ofthe city sang a slightly less ribald version of the ballad of the_edificio magnifico_ which cost the nation over twenty million pesos andwhich, the song maintained, supported a village full of Don Augusto'swhores and bastards.
"I want to see the Press Secretary," Hall told an attendant in the rightdepartment.
"So do I," the attendant laughed. "He resigned last week."
"Didn't anyone take his place?"
The attendant was a very old man. He leaned back in his chair and withan eloquent look gave Hall to understand that he had completely lostpatience with the visitor. "_Chico_," he said, "no one could take DonPascual's place."
"Please, _viejo_, I am in a hurry. Is anyone trying to take DonPascual's place?"
"Ha!" The old man shifted in his chair. With withering scorn he raisedhis arm and pointed a handful of gnarled brown fingers at a door marked_Prensa_. There were many other men in San Hermano who pointed to thingswith just that gesture. Hall recognized the gesture at once. He had seenit for the first time in Geneva, when Anibal Tabio rose to make thatgesture toward the pile of captured Italian and German militarydocuments with which the Spaniards had tried to impress the League.
Hall smiled with compassion at the figure of the old man imitating thegesture of his idolized President.
"Go in, go in," the old man said, petulantly. "Go in and see that burroof a dolt who is _trying_ to take Don Pascual's place."
"And has this burro a name?"
"The burro has a name. It is Valenti. Now you made me say theunspeakable name! Please, _chico_, in the name of my sainted mother andthe Educator, go away!"
The old man's attitude told Hall more about what Gamburdo had alreadydone to the Press Bureau than he could have learned in a week of routinedigging. He handed the old man a cigar and a box of matches and walkedthrough the door to Valenti's office. He found himself in a smallanteroom facing a dark-haired girl pecking genteely at the keys of atypewriter with creamy fingers whose long nails were painted a deepblood red. She was immaculately groomed and pretty.
"I would like to see Senor Valenti," he said.
"Your name, Senor?"
So you had voice training, too, he thought. "Matthew Hall," he said. "Iam a journalist from New York."
"How nice!" The secretary switched to English immediately. There wasonly the slightest suggestion of an accent to her English, and over thefaint Spanish intonations she tried to impose the broad a's of somethingresembling the Oxford drawl. "It is quite a relief to speak Englishduring office hours, really." She pronounced it as "re-ahl-y."
"Yours is a very good English, Miss ..."
"Vardieno," she said.
"Pick it up in school in San Hermano?"
Miss Vardieno made a mouth of disdain. "Heavens, no!" she said. "Dadsent me to finishing school in the States. Stuffy old place, butcharming in its own Adirondack way. Besides, I could always sneak downto town for a week-end when it became too boring."
"Of course," Hall smiled. "Nothing like good old New York to work off abore."
"And how! What brings you to this forsaken village?"
"Pan American Airways," he laughed. "There's a flight out of Miami everytwo days they tell me."
The girl laughed with him. "O.K.," she said. "I asked for it. I'll findout if Mr. Valenti can see you now." She pushed her chair back and gotup, pausing mid-way long enough to give Hall a fleeting look at herbreasts with a casualness she had never learned in the Adirondacks. ButHall had eyes only for the pendant which dangled at the end of a thinplatinum chain. When she sat at her desk or stood erect, Miss Vardieno'sCross and Sword emblem sank neatly below the neck line of her blue NewYork dress.
"There are so many lovely sights in San Hermano," Hall sighed as thegirl walked into the private office.
She was in the private office for quite some time. Emerging, she hadregained her finishing-school poise. "I am so sorry," she said. "Mr.Valenti is tied up in a conference that will last for hours. OurCongress opens in five days, you know, and what with the situation beingwhat it is, Mr. Hall, it is the feeling of the Press Director that itwill be impossible for any writer to obtain an interview with Mr.Gamburdo until after the Congress convenes."
Nice going, he thought. "An interview with the Vice-President? But howdid Mr. Valenti know that was what I wanted?"
"I don't know, Mr. Hall. I guess he just presumed. Every one wants tointerview Mr. Gamburdo these days. If it keeps up I guess he'll make thecover of _Time_, don't you think?" She sat down and propped up a flowersagging over the rim of the crystal vase on her desk. "Our prettytropical blooms are too darned delicate, don't you think?"
"Oh, yes," Hall said, thinking not of the broken blossom but of thespeed with which the text of his cable had reached Gamburdo's new PressSecretary.
Miss Vardieno brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her skirt. "Well,
anyway," she said in her best bored-with-it-all nuance, "he's going tobe a vast improvement over Tovarich Tabio."
"I'll be seeing you," Hall said.
"Don't be a stranger now," Miss Vardieno said. "It's such a relief tospeak English during office hours."
Hall closed the door behind him and started to whistle the ballad aboutthe graft that built the marble halls of Gobernacion's _edificiomagnifico_. "You're right," he told the old attendant. "Valenti cannever wear Don Pascual's _pantalones_."
The old man's dry cackle followed Hall down the swirling marble stairs.Hall walked out to the Avenida de la Liberacion, looked in alldirections for the man who had followed him the night before. The yellowstraw hat was nowhere in sight. He turned his steps toward thefashionable shopping district directly south on the avenue. If hisshadow were on him, he would flush him by walking down the broad, sunnyavenue.
The shopping district brought no sign of the "little dog." Hall shoppedthe plate-glass windows, hoping to catch a tell-tale glimpse of anyonewho might be on his heels. He went into a department store, bought atropical dinner suit, and arranged to have it altered and delivered tothe Bolivar at five. Then, after selecting a maroon tie and a shirt, hefound a phone booth and called Fielding's office.
A Spanish-speaking secretary answered the phone. Fielding was in Alcalaat an auction, she said. "Please have him call Father Arupe'ssecretary," Hall said.
The hot noon-day sun forced Hall to abandon his ideas of taking aleisurely stroll to the Bolivar. He found a rickety cab and relaxed onthe dusty cushions. Fielding was the man he needed now, Fielding mightbe able to make Androtten show his cards, Fielding might have some ofthe answers about the new Press Chief and his brand-new secretary. Andif Souza could find out who owned the Renault Androtten and the littledog used, maybe Fielding could tie the information into some of his owndata and come up with something. Then when the boys in Havana answeredthat screwy letter perhaps they'd all have something to go by. In threedays at the outside there would be word from Havana. Three days ofwaiting and accepting Souza and Pepe and even Fielding on faith.
At the Bolivar, the desk clerk told Hall that Pepe had called to saythat he was having some minor engine trouble and would be delayed forabout an hour. Hall noted the word "minor" and put it down to a delay inreaching Souza or Juan Antonio. He ordered a jug of iced pineapple juicesent up and went to his room. The long walk down the Avenida de laLiberacion under the broiling sun had covered Hall with sweat. Hestripped and went to the bathroom. A slow gust of air hissed out of thefaucets when Hall turned the taps. He washed his face with cold water atthe basin while waiting for the pressure to force up the water to thebath faucets.
But no water came. The hissing ceased, the faucets went bone dry. Hallphoned the news down to the desk.
"I am so sorry, Senor," the clerk said. "But all the baths on your lineseem to have gone dry. The manager has sent for a plumber."
Hall stretched out on his bed and tried to relax.
The desk clerk phoned him back. "Can I send the plumber up?" he asked.
"Sure." Hall put on his pants and a pair of slippers. More than anythingelse, at this moment, he wanted to wallow in a cold tub. The plumber,who looked enough like Pepe Delgado to be his twin, had other ideas.
"It is very serious, Senor," he complained. "There will be no water fromthese rotted pipes in a century." He banged the pipes with one tool andtwisted them with another, cursing them as he worked. "It is veryserious," he concluded. "I can do nothing on them today."
"Mother of God!" Hall said, and then he saw the sly smile on theplumber's massive face.
"Even She couldn't get any water from these pipes," the plumber said.
"How am I going to bathe?"
"Who knows? Maybe the manager will give you another room where the bathstill works."
"Maybe. Well, thanks for trying."
"For nothing, Senor." The plumber picked up his tools and left.
Hall dressed and joined Pepe in the car. "What did the plumber say?"Pepe asked.
"Enough. Let's have a quick lunch somewhere."
"Souza is changing your room tonight. He is also changing the rooms offour other guests. They have no water either."
"Good work. Where are we eating?"
"When I stop the car you'll find out."
"Is the plumber your brother?"
"My cousin. I also spoke to Juan Antonio. He made that telephone call."
"Are you very hungry?" Hall asked. "I want to buy you half a steer."
"I could eat half a steer, _companero_. And I know where to get it,too." He drove to an old garden restaurant near the beach. "Here theyserve the best meat in San Hermano. And at low prices, too."
Pepe did ample justice to a tremendous steak. He washed it down with aquart of beer, chiding Hall for confining his luncheon to a simpleroast-beef sandwich. "Such food is all right for little children, SenorHall. But you are a man."
"Call me Mateo."
"You should eat like a man, _Companero_ Mateo."
"I don't feel like eating."
"Then go to a good doctor. Or take that red-headed woman into your bedfor a night. You'd eat in the morning, _chico_!"
Hall laughed. "I'd rather see a doctor," he said.
"A doctor?" Pepe grew serious. "Is anything wrong?"
"Who knows? This Dr. Gonzales you mentioned. Is he a medico?"
"Yes. Would you like to see him, _Companero_ Mateo?"
"Could we see him after lunch?"
"Now is the best time. He's surely taking a little siesta, and it isbetter not to telephone. His daughter is at school all day. Come on,I'll drive you over."
They got into the car and Pepe swung into a street with a trolley trackthat led them to a middle-class suburb. He stopped in front of a grayframe house similar to any doctor's house in an American town. A fat andancient Persian cat was sleeping in the shadiest part of the porch. Pepemeowed at the cat. She opened a lazy eye, yawned, and went back tosleep.
"The cat and her master always take their siesta at the same time," Pepeexplained. "It is a very intelligent cat." He opened the screen door.
"Is there no bell?"
"He disconnects the bell when he naps." Pepe led Hall into a cool,shaded living room. There was no rug on the highly polished redwoodfloor. The furniture was made by native craftsmen of bamboo and wicker,although the designs reflected the functional modernism of the Bauhausschool. It was the first modern furniture Hall had ever seen in SouthAmerica.
Pepe noticed Hall's interest. "The doctor has many peasant projects," heexplained. "He brought some Spanish refugees from Madrid to the countryto teach the peasants how to make good furniture. They have a bigco-operative shop in the southern province near the Little River. Sitdown in one of these new chairs. I'll get him."
Hall relaxed in one of the low-slung chairs while Pepe went to the rearpart of the house. "He's not on the couch in his office," Pepe said. Hewent to the foot of the stairs leading into the foyer. "_Hola!_ It'sDelgado! _Hola!_ Don Manuel, it's Delgado!" His shouts would have rousedthe dead. He turned around and winked to Hall. "_Abajo_ Anibal Tabio!"he shouted. "_Viva_ Gamburdo! _Viva_ Segura! _Abajo_ Tabio!"
Upstairs there was the sound of a book or a heavy shoe dropping to thefloor. "Bandit!" someone shouted, and then a tall graying man in hisstockinged feet shuffled to the head of the stairs, rubbing his eyes andcursing Pepe with a mock cantankerousness. "_Bulto_," he shouted. "Givea man a chance to put on his shoes. Show some respect for my degrees!"
Pepe made a low, courtly stage bow. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," hepleaded. "I am only a simple petitioner."
"_Momentico, companero._" The doctor went to his room for a pair ofhuaraches.
"Doctor, I want you to meet _Companero_ Mateo Hall."
"_Companero_ Hall!" The doctor started to speak English. "It is so goodto finally meet you. Don Anibal gave me your book on Spain for Christmaswhen it was printed. He spoke to me about you very highly. Please, sitdown. You will find thes
e chairs very comfortable."
"Pepe has been telling me about your co-operative."
"It is not very large. Here, try this chair. It is my favorite."
Pepe reminded the doctor that Hall was in need of his professionalservices. "Excuse my bad manners, doctor," he said, "but when you startto talk about your projects ..."
"He is right," the doctor smiled. "Sometimes I do talk too much. I liketo talk, even when people don't really listen to me. Even in my sleep Italk. About many things. Art. Weaving. World politics. The war."
"I like to listen," Hall said. "Where did you learn your English,doctor?"
"My English?" The doctor leaned back in his chair, the smile of a manenjoying a highly private joke on his face. "I am afraid, _companero_,that I learned my English in the same sort of a place where you learnedyour excellent Spanish. That is, in a dungeon built by the Kings ofSpain."
"In Spain?"
"No. I am not a Spaniard. My grandfathers were Spaniards, but my fatherand I were born here." He pointed to a framed flag of the Republic whichhung on the wall over Hall's chair. "That flag hung in my cell in ElMoro for three years, and that flag was in my hands the day Segura'sdeath opened the prison gates to all of us." The doctor was not awarethat he was now speaking in Spanish.
"The doctor was in El Moro with Don Anibal," Pepe said.
"That is true," the doctor admitted. "Nearly every patriot on thefaculty and so many of the students were there, too. I had just taken mydegree in medicine but I was still at the University as an instructor inbiology when the arrests began. But don't think it was all tears andterror. Don Anibal and his late cousin Federico formed the so-calledUniversity Behind Bars. We had Chairs in Latin, English, biology,history, art, literature--everything. The soldiers, who were with us,smuggled in our books and papers. Later, when the Seguristas were out ofpower, the students who were in prison were able to take theirexaminations in the University of San Hermano, and the new Regents gavethem full academic credit for their studies at El Moro."
"He is a sick man, doctor," Pepe said. "Examine him first and talk tohim later."
"Pepe is right, _Companero_ Hall. I do talk too much."
"Nonsense. Any man who did three years in jail has a lot of talking tocatch up on when he gets out."
"Will the examination take very long?" Pepe asked. "I have to go back totown. I can pick you up later."
"Have you an hour?" the doctor asked Hall.
"I have all day."
Pepe got up. "I'll be back in two hours," he laughed. He walked out tothe porch. They heard him meow at the cat. Then the cat screeched andPepe howled.
"A cat is never completely civilized," Dr. Gonzales said. "Poor Peperefuses to believe it. And now Grisita has scratched him again."
"Your wild beast!" Pepe roared. "She clawed me!"
"Come inside, and I'll fix it, Pepe."
"No, thanks. I've got iodine in my car."
Hall expected the doctor to be amused. Instead, a wave of profoundsadness gripped the man. He took out a pocket handkerchief and ran itover his forehead. "What's wrong, doctor?"
"Not much," Gonzales said. "I just can't stand the way they spare me.Since my illness it's been hell. For twelve years I was the NationalMinister of public health education. Don Anibal appointed me when he wasMinister of Education. He created the job for me. Now I live on apension, and outside of the few hours I put in every week as aconsultant at the University and my handicraft projects, I do nothing.Biologically I am now a vegetable. And my good friends, the people ofSan Hermano ..."
"_Claro._ You mean they are too kind ..."
The doctor nodded. "But they are my friends," he said. "They do not dothis to hurt me. And now, what bothers you?"
"My back. I think that I may have strained it."
"I can examine you better in my office. It's in the next room."
"Thank you. But first, I'd like to talk to you about some other things.I don't know what's going on, but I do know that something is wrong. Iknew Don Anibal in Geneva, and I know that if he were well, your countrywould break with the Axis...."
The doctor sighed. "You are not alone," he said. "Don Anibal is a verysick man. No one seems to know what is wrong, exactly. He is paralyzedfrom the hips down, and he grows weaker every day. The mind is stillstrong, but it must rest so much that none of us dare to tax Don Anibalwith worries other than his health. In the meanwhile, Gamburdo has takenover."
"And Gamburdo? Is he honest?"
"Gamburdo is not a man of good will. He is a clever lawyer and a veryintelligent man. His family prospered under Segura, but the Generalseduced a Gamburdo daughter, and that turned them against theSeguristas. Gamburdo volunteered his services as a lawyer when Tabio andthe Republican junta was in jail. But this offer was a calculatinggamble. He knew that Segura's days were numbered; he knew that theleaders of the junta would be the new government of the nation. Hejoined the Party of Radical Socialism, but when he became its head, hesaw to it that, like himself, the party became neither radical norsocialist."
"He was for Franco, you know," Hall said.
"I know. He was for Franco and the Falange and against Tabio. But he isvery intelligent. He managed to keep these things nicely hidden. WhenTabio was elected President and created the new government of nationalunity, Gamburdo joined forces with Don Anibal--but only to destroy thisunity from within.
"This is the least of his sins. It seems that he has kept all theRepublican doctors from the Presidencia. The only doctors Gamburdo haspermitted are the reactionaries, the old servants of the Seguristas. Wetried to talk to Don Anibal, but you know him and his saintly faith inthe goodness of Man. I think that, deliberately, he has placed his lifein Gamburdo's hands as a lesson to all of his old friends in the needfor real unity. It is as if he means to prove to us, by getting well,that unity is the most important issue in the nation today."
"And Dr. Ansaldo? Is he really good?"
"He has a great reputation. But it is a gamble for Gamburdo alone. IfDon Anibal recovers, Gamburdo and his friends will say that it was aSpaniard who saved the President. If he dies--even a great Spanishdoctor could not save him. Either way, Gamburdo stands to gain."
In the office Hall took a chair facing the microscope on the doctor'swhite enameled metal desk. He watched the doctor hunt through theinstrument cases along the wall. On a lower shelf, the doctor found hisstethoscope.
"Would you please remove your shirt?"
Hall shook his head. "No," he said. He gently took the stethoscope fromthe doctor's hands, carefully folded it and put it away in a smallwooden box he found on the desk. "This is what I really came for,doctor."
"My stethoscope?"
"Exactly." He explained to the doctor that with such instruments onecould easily hear through an average indoor wall. "I have a queerfeeling," he said, "that with your stethoscope I can perhaps get a hintas to what is actually wrong with Don Anibal,--or, at least, in SanHermano."
The doctor gave Hall his hand. "I won't ask you any questions," he said."But may I wish you luck?"
"Thank you."
"Now let me fix you a cold drink. I'm not very good in the kitchen, butwe'll see what we can both do."
Pepe returned with news for Hall about the change of rooms at the hotel.Hall now had the room next to Ansaldo's sitting room. He also told himthat the Spanish Republican societies were planning an _homenaje_ forHall. "They formed a committee to arrange it with you, but I told themthat you didn't want to see them until next week."
"I hope you were pleasant," Hall said.
"Of course I was, Mateo. I just thought you didn't want too much noiseabout you in San Hermano for the next few days."
"Maybe you're right, Pepe."
"What do you want to do now?"
"Take a bath. I'm going to a party at the American Embassy tonight. Buttomorrow I think we'll have a lot of work to do, _companero_."
"I wonder what happened to the little dog?"
"Maybe I'll know some more about hi
m tonight."
"What have you got in the box?"
"Medicine."
Pepe snorted. "_Mierda!_" he laughed. "What you really need is ..."
"I know," Hall said, sharply. "That girl with the red hair."
"Excuse me," Pepe said. "I am not a doctor."
"You are too modest, _ilustre_."
"Have a good time tonight. I'll be waiting for you in the morning. Or,if you change your mind, leave word with Fernando."
"Good. Until tomorrow, then." Hall got the key to his new room from theclerk, as well as the packages he had ordered earlier in the day.
The new room was larger than the other one. His clothes and bags hadalready been moved in, and the chambermaid had made a creditable effortto put them away as Hall had previously done. Hall went to the window,saw that it looked out on the Plaza. He adjusted his window shutters forprivacy. The wall between his room and Ansaldo's sitting room had only abureau against it. Hall moved the chest slightly to one side, made roomfor a small, solid chair. Then he took his bath.
He was shaving when he heard Ansaldo return to the Bolivar. He wrapped atowel around his middle, put the plastic prongs of the stethoscope inhis ears, and sat down on the little chair facing the wall. The hearingend of the stethoscope picked up only footsteps. The sounds told theirown story. The man in the next room was walking to the window, thenopening the shutters, then sitting on the couch. There were otherfootsteps, lighter and less pronounced. Perhaps another person in theroom was wearing soft slippers or going barefooted, like Hall himself.
"Are you tired, _ilustre_?" It was Marina.
"No. Why should I be tired?" Ansaldo.
Marina giggled.
"Did you find out?" Ansaldo asked.
"Not yet, _ilustre_. What was it like to examine Tovarich Tabio?"
Ansaldo laughed. "Let me take care of the Tovarich, please. And don'tact too happy at the Embassy tonight."
"I am not a fool, _ilustre_. Didn't the Caudillo himself personallydecorate me for bravery?"
"Now you are being a boor. I detest boors."
"I am sorry, _ilustre_."
"Try to find out if they are coming in tonight."
"They would not be coming by Clipper," Marina said. "Too dangerous."
There was the rustle of paper, followed by the padded footsteps. Thensomeone--Hall guessed it was Marina--sat down in a creaky armchair. Theman with the shoes got up and walked in the direction opposite fromHall's room. Hall heard a door open, followed a few seconds later by therush of water into a tub. He remained in his chair, his stethoscopestill against the plaster.
The phone near Hall's bed started to ring. He got up very quietly,tiptoed over to the bed. He hid the stethoscope under his pillow beforehe answered.
"Hello, it's me."
"Yeah, Jerry."
"Speak louder. I can't hear you."
"Sure." He went on speaking with his hand around the mouthpiece tomuffle the sound. "Can you hear me now?"
"Just about. Listen, I've got lots to tell you. I was with Doctor whenhe examined the President, and he was magnificent!"
"The patient?"
"No, you dope. The doctor. What are you doing now?"
"Nothing. Getting dressed."
"Me too. Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about it."
"Right now?"
Jerry laughed.
"I know," he said. "You're not wearing a thing at the moment."
"Just a second. There. Now you're right about one thing, anyway."
"Don't tempt me," he warned. "I might decide to check up for myself."
"Not now you won't! Meet you downstairs in about twenty minutes. O.K.?"
Hall finished his shave and dressed, toying all the while with thenotion of walking down the corridor to Jerry's room before she had achance to leave. Pepe would heartily approve, he thought, and, besides,since that hour in the woods on top of Monte Azul, Jerry had not exactlyindicated that he would be unwelcome if he made a try. But while hespeculated, Jerry phoned him again from downstairs. "Daydreaming?" sheasked, and he answered, "Yes, about you."
She met him at the elevator in the lobby. "Come on," she laughed, "let'sgo to that place in back of the Cathedral. The little Dutch drip wasaround here a second ago. He wants to tell you the story of his life, hetold me."
"O.K. Let's just keep walking."
She took his arm as they left the hotel. "Miss me?" she asked.
"I did."
"You're a liar."
Hall winced. "Is that the best you have to say? How about themagnificent doctor?"
"He's really good, Matt. I'm not kidding. I've worked with some corkingmedics in my day, but this guy is tops." She told Hall about themasterly way in which Ansaldo had taken command of the situation,kicking all the San Hermano doctors out of the sick room and examiningTabio only in the presence of Marina, Jerry and Tabio's son.
"What's the matter with him?"
"Ansaldo has an idea. But he has to make certain."
"What does it look like to you?"
"It could be many things. What's good to drink here?"
"Anything. Scotch and soda?"
"Oke. But really, Matt, you should have seen Doctor in that sick room."She launched into a long and enthusiastic account of the doctor at work.
The girl was on the point of repeating herself when Hall cut her short."Listen," he said. "Let me tell you something about Anibal Tabio and hisgeneration of young democrats who walked out of jail and started to makehistory." He told her of the schools and the hospitals which had beenbuilt in the country in the last decade, of the minimum-wage laws, ofthe work of Tabio followers like Dr. Gonzales.
He told her how he first met Tabio in Geneva. "His was supposed to bejust a small voice in the League; a little South American dressing tomake the whole show look good. But a month after he got there, Mussolinistarted to pop his goo-goo eyes at Ethiopia. Hoare and Laval and Halifaxwere so nice and ready to give the Italian steamroller a healthy shovedownhill to Addis Ababa. Then one afternoon Litvinov got up to fire someheavy shots. But that was expected. Then del Vayo started, and the funbegan. Because, when Vayo was through, it was Tabio's turn. And lady,what Anibal Tabio did to hot shots like Hoare and Laval without evenraising his voice was just plain murder."
Jerry put her hand on Hall's arm. "I suppose I read about it in thepapers at the time. It didn't mean much to me then. I'm afraid it didn'tmean much to me until right now, Matt."
"Weren't you interested in what happened in the world?"
"Not too much, I'm afraid. I was interested in myself. I was making upmy mind to go to Reno, and then I sat in Reno for six weeks cramming onmy old school books, and then I was off to nursing school."
"Didn't Ethiopia, and later Spain, make any impression upon you?" Hall'squestion was very gently stated.
"Of course it did, Matt. I was sorry for the Africans and I was sorryfor the Spaniards. I wanted Mussolini to get licked and I wanted theLoyalists to win. But most of all I wanted to get through nursing schooland then earn enough money to study medicine."
"In other words, if Geraldine Olmstead got her M.D., all would be rightwith the world, eh?"
She avoided his eyes. "It sounds stupid and mean," she said. "But Iguess I deserve it. I'm afraid that was the idea."
"When did the idea die?"
"About ten seconds ago, when you put it into words," she admitted. "Inever thought of it in that way before. But I wasn't the only one,Matt."
"Hell, no! You were in a majority when the war started. The wholecountry was sitting back and, as it thought, minding its own business.We thought we were wonderfully immune until the bombs began to drop onPearl Harbor."
"Now you're being gallant," she laughed. "There were plenty of people inthe country like--like you, Matt. Have we time for another drink?"
Hall was staring into space. Suddenly he exploded. "_Madre de Dios!_ NowI remember!"
"Remember what? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I have
." Hall tapped his head. "In here."
Jerry laughed. "I wish someone would come along and tell me what this isall about."
"There's no time. Let's get back to the hotel. I've got to changeclothes and there's a guy I want to see before I go to the party."
"But what's it all about?"
"I'll tell you later."
Walking back to the hotel, he asked Jerry if she had ever found thesolution to a problem in a dream. "Because just now I did. Do youremember when you woke me up this morning that I sounded like a guy in afog? Well, I was. But just a few minutes ago at that table on thesidewalk, the fog lifted."
"And now you feel better?"
"Sure. It's all over."
"I think you're lying. I think that whatever it is, it's justbeginning."
"No. It's over."
Jerry was right. But what she did not know was that the fog had liftedon Dr. Varela Ansaldo. The doctor was the Spanish officer of Hall'sdream, the one at whose back Hall hurled the knife. And at the table,sipping his second drink, Hall had recalled in a flash where he had seenVarela Ansaldo before. It had happened in Burgos, in April of 1938,during a review of the 12th Division of the fascist army. Ansaldo,wearing the uniform of a Franco major, with a big Falange yoke andarrows sewn over the left breast pocket, had shared a bench on thereviewing stand with an Italian and a German officer. Directly behindthem, on that day, had flown the flags of Imperial Spain, The Falange,Nazi Germany and fascist Italy. Hall remembered the tableau vividly,remembered so clearly perhaps because while watching the review from thesidewalk he had been annoyed by the staff photographer of Franco's_Arriba_, who must have shot a hundred pictures of the officials in thestands that day and who had also shoved Hall aside or stepped on histoes before shooting each picture.
"I'll see you at the Embassy tonight," he said.
"Oke. But get that scowl off your face first," she smiled. "You promisedto be nice tonight, and right now you look as if you are planning tokill someone with your bare hands."