Authors: Robbins Harold
The second room apparently was her uncle's. That, too, seemed undisturbed. The third was the smallest of the three, probably the maid's room. It was the only one in disorder. The bed was rumpled and unmade, as if it had just been slept in. But the closet was empty, as were the bureau drawers.
I walked back into the hallway deep in thought. It didn't make sense. Why should the maid's room look as if she had gone away? And yet her bed be the only one to have been slept in?
I started down the staircase, then changed my mind. Still puzzling over the disorder in the maid's room, I pulled open the door to the linen closet. My hunch was right but it almost cost me my life.
Mendoza came out of the closet like a projectile. I clutched at him and we went tumbling backward, over and over, down the staircase. We landed on the floor below, with him on top and my head bursting and my lungs gasping for breath. I saw a knife flash and desperately I grabbed for it. I could feel the strain in my arms as I battled my assailant to keep him from using it.
"Fat Cat!" I shouted. "Fat Cat!"
Violently he clamped a hand over my mouth to keep me from shouting again. The slight easing of pressure enabled me to twist the arm out and away from me. I heaved with my body and rolled him off me onto the floor.
We both came to our feet at almost the same instant. He lunged toward me, the knife still in his hand. I ducked away from the slashing blade. From behind me came a heavy pounding on the door. He cast a quick glance sideways, then back again before I could take advantage of it.
"I don't care about you, Mendoza," I gasped. "Where is Beatriz?"
"As if you didn't know!" he answered, and lunged at me.
I jumped aside again. "Beatriz, where is she?"
Now Mendoza actually seemed to be laughing. He had to be mad. He began to swing wildly at me, mumbling incoherently all the while, "You can't win! Someday we'll get you, all of you! You can't win!"
I was so busy keeping away from his knife that I didn't anticipate his sudden leap. He crashed into me, his weight carrying us to the floor. But this time I was faster. I rolled away from him and then back, catching his knife hand at his side just as it was coming up.
It was an old bandolero trick. I clamped one knee and a hand down on his knife arm, pinning it to the floor, then with a crooked elbow jammed into his throat just below his Adam's apple, 1 pushed with all my weight.
His free hand clawed wildly at my eyes but I twisted my head away. And all the while I put more and more weight on my elbow. I could almost hear the crunch as his windpipe crushed. Relentlessly I kept on applying pressure until at last his hands stopped moving and his protruding eyes and tongue told me that he was dead.
Only then did I roll off and lie gasping on my back beside him. The pounding on the heavy door had ceased. In a few moments I heard the sound of a key turning and I began to sit up.
Fat Cat was the first in. He leaped over Mendoza's body and pulled me to my feet. "Are you all right?"
I nodded, turning.
Hoyos stood there, the key that had opened the door in his hand. Beatriz was beside him, her eyes wide and frightened.
No one had to tell me where Beatriz had been, for I could see the handcuffs still on her wrists. El Presidente had assured me she was safe, and he hadn't been altogether wrong. She had been very safe. In jail.
Beatriz sat over in one corner of the couch. She was still crying. I looked up and saw Hoyos watching us from the hallway. Mendoza's body already had been removed. I got out of my chair and closed the door. I came back to Beatriz and stood looking down at her.
"That's enough!" I said harshly.
She was surprised at the sharpness in my voice and looked up, her dark-green eyes still brimming with tears.
"You have cried enough, you're merely feeling sorry for yourself. It is time to stop."
"You killed him! Now that my uncle is dead in the fighting there is no one left. I am alone."
"You were alone before I killed him," I said patiently. "I tell you he was the one who had your father killed."
"I don't believe you!" Beatriz' eyes began to fill again with tears.
This time I lost my patience. Angrily I slapped her across the face. "Stop it!"
The shock dried her eyes, and she came up off the couch clawing at me. "I hate you! I hate you!"
I caught her arms and pinned them by holding her tight in an embrace. I felt the warmth of her firm young body through the thin soft dress. I looked down into her angry eyes and laughed. There was an almost instant surge of response 111 me to the touch of her, and I knew that she knew it.
Now she was very still, her eyes still angry. But it was another kind of anger, directed at herself, as if she had just proved something she had always known. "You animal. Now I suppose you're going to rape me."
"I should," I said, "it's probably what you need more than anything else."
She broke out of my embrace and stood there glaring at me, her magnificent breasts heaving. "I want to go away," she said, trying to control her voice, "I want to leave Corteguay. It's a sick land. Everything and everyone in it is sick." She turned away and went over to the window, her back to me. "It has taken too much out of me. I have nothing more to give. My father died because of it, my uncle—"
"I told you your uncle was a fool," I interrupted. "Who told him to join the rebels? Mendoza?"
Beatriz turned and stared at me. "You're very proud of yourself, aren't you? The little people have all been taught their lesson and put back in their proper places. Now you can go back to your soft willing women who make no demands upon you. You don't have to concern yourself over us any more. El Presidente will take care of everything, el Presidente will provide." Her voice was heavily sarcastic. "He'll provide—with prisons, or by extermination."
"No more," I said, suddenly weary.
"No more? You can stand there and say that with the blood of an innocent man on your hands? A man who wanted nothing but freedom for his people?"
"No, not that kind of man. A man who lied; to you, to your father, to everyone. A man who spread poison wherever he could. A man who was responsible not only for the death of your father but also probably for thousands of others these past few weeks. That's the kind of man you are talking about. I'm glad I killed him!"
"You're gloating over it," Beatriz replied, a note of contempt in her voice. "You make me sick."
We stood staring at each other, then her expression suddenly changed. "My God, I'm going to be sick!"
She ran past me into the kitchen and out the back door. I heard the rasping sounds of her retching, and when I got there she was leaning her head weakly against the cool clapboards of the house.
"Beatriz," I said, trying to take her into my arms.
"No, Dax," she replied huskily, "leave me alone."
For the first time I noticed how pale and drawn she had become. There were shadows under her eyes I had never seen there before. She turned to look at me, still speaking in that husky voice. "Just let me go away. Help me leave Corteguay, that's all I want from you."
I was silent for a moment but even then I couldn't keep all the anger out of my voice. "Pack a bag if that's what you want. I'll see to it that you're put on the first plane or boat out."
Then I walked back into the house. Halfway through the living room my anger disappeared and I began to smile. I wondered what Beatriz would say when she found out that the first plane out would be mine.
CHAPTER
34
Colonel Tulia was waiting in my antechamber when I got back to the Palacio del Presidente. "Your excellency, I took the liberty of awaiting your return."
"I have not yet had time to discuss the matter with el Presidente."
"I know, I have already heard the news. Mendoza is dead. El Presidente announced it about an hour and a half ago."
I nodded. Hoyos was right on the job. I wondered if he also told el Presidente that I had ordered the release of Beatriz.
"The typists have completed their work," Tulia said. "I thought you might like to look at the rest of the execution orders before you spoke to him."
I sat down, and Tulia opened his briefcase. The papers made a neat stack on my desk. I picked off the top one and studied it. The name meant nothing to me, I had never even heard it before. But it was a young man, a lieutenant, only twenty-three years old.
I put the order down and lit a cigarette. I could not take my eyes from the stack of papers. It was the first time I had ever realized that death could be arranged so simply, so impersonally. All it would take was my signature and every one of these pieces of paper would turn into a dead man.
My signature. I inhaled deeply, letting the acrid smoke burn its way down into my lungs. I wondered how many more ways el Presidente had in the back of his mind to use me. I began to feel sick inside. How many more had to die to maintain his power?
I remembered the grim satisfaction in his voice that morning as I had banked the plane away from the little village. "It will teach them a lesson," he had said. "It will be a long time before any of them will want to make war again."
Suddenly the answer came from inside myself. As if it had always been there but I had refused to accept it. The lesson was as old as time. An Englishman had put it into neat and economical language: "Power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely."
El Presidente knew more than I had given him credit for. This was the ultimate temptation, and he knew it. The power of life or death. What greater power could be given to any man? He knew better than anyone that once I had signed those orders, no matter how noble my motive, I was committed to power. And once I was, my corruption was inevitable.
For what my father could not or would not see was that there is no middle ground; there are no grays, only black and white. And no matter how much might be gained for the moment, in the end more would be lost. I looked up. Colonel Tulia was watching me intently.
I took a deep breath. Suddenly for the first time in my life I felt free. I was my own man. I belonged to myself, not to the memory of my father, not to el Presidente, but only to myself. For the first time I knew my own mind.
"Colonel Tulia, how many executive officers are there besides yourself?"
"Five colonels," he replied, "including Hoyos, of the secret police, and Pardo and Vasquez, the prisoners. Only Zuluaga and myself, really; the others are in the field." "Could a court-martial be convened?"
"If we included Hoyos." A light was beginning to show in his eyes. He realized what I was getting at. "Actually, only three officers are needed."
"And the prisoners?" I asked. "Are they also in Curatu?"
He nodded, then hesitated. "There is one difficulty. We need one more officer to preside as judge of the court."
I got to my feet. "That should present no problem, Colonel. I am still wearing the uniform of the army."
I looked down at my watch. "It is seven o'clock. Do you think you could have everyone here in an hour?"
I went upstairs to my room and shaved and took a shower. When I came down a few minutes before eight they were all there. Only Hoyos among them seemed uncomfortable.
I went around behind my desk and sat down. "We all know why we are here, gentlemen, let's get down to business."
Tulia turned to me. "It is the first order of the court to elect a presiding officer from among ourselves."
I nodded. A moment later I was elected.
"The next step is to present the court with the charges against the accused." Tulia stepped forward and laid a sheet of paper on my desk.
He had been very thorough. Somehow he had found the time to write out exactly what I should say. "Coronel Vasquez, this courtmartial is being held in accordance with army regulations and clause six of the document of surrender signed by you____"
The two trials were over in a matter of minutes. Both officers were acquitted of all charges, by a vote of two to one. Hoyos, of course, was the one who voted the other way. As presiding officer I dismissed the charges and restored both Pardo and Vasquez to their full rank and pay without penalty.
Quickly Tulia wrote out a brief summary of the trial and we all signed it. I signed twice, once as presiding officer and again as vice president.
Vasquez reached across the desk to shake my hand. His grip was firm. "Thank you."
Hoyos slowly got to his feet. "Now that it is over, gentlemen, I'll be getting back to my duties."
"No!" I said sharply.
Hoyos turned to look at me questioningly, and a sudden silence fell over the room. He looked at the others, then back at me. "I have important matters waiting," he said, almost mildly.
"They will keep."
I didn't want Hoyos informing el Presidente of what had happened before I got to him. This was something I had to do for myself. "You will return to your seat and wait here with your fellow officers until I have informed el Presidente of the decisions of this court."
"You have no authority to detain me," he protested. "I am accountable only to el Presidente."
"As an officer of the army you are also accountable to the vice president."
Hoyos stared at me for a moment, then shrugged and returned to his chair. "Yes, excellency."
Something about the sound of his voice aroused my suspicion, and it took me only a few minutes to ascertain that the office was bugged. I picked up one of the tiny microphones and looked at him.
His face was pale but he didn't speak.
"Why didn't you tell me the office was wired?" I said. "We could have saved the time spent in writing a report if we had known that everything that was said was being taped."
CHAPTER
35
It was perhaps an hour later when I presented myself at el President's apartamiento. But what I had to do might require that extra hour.
A servant let me in. "El Presidente is expecting you, excellency, but at eleven o'clock."