The Adventurers (38 page)

The two officers started up the walk to the house. It wasn't until then that Dax recognized the younger officer. Despite the slimness of the body, the tightly fitting uniform seemed only to accentuate the young feminine curves. She turned and suddenly her face broke into a familiar grin and she began to run toward him.

He hurried down the steps to meet her, then suddenly she stopped and stared up at him. It was almost as if she were a little girl again and was suddenly surprised to see how tall her older brother had grown.

"Dax?" Her voice was husky, almost breathless.

"Amparo."

Still she stood, her eyes searching his face. She seemed to want to speak but no words came. It was he who finally broke the silence. "Take off your hat."

"What for?" His face broke into a teasing smile. "So I can make up my mind whether to kiss or salute you."

Her blue eyes crinkled in an answering grin and with a gesture she flung her hat across the yard. Her blond hair tumbled down almost to her shoulders. "Dax, Dax, I could not believe my eyes. You're so—so big!" And then she ran into his arms.

He held her close, feeling the warm femaleness of her. "You've grown a little, too, Princesa."

She looked up into his face. "How could you leave Curatu without seeing me?"

"You were in Panama," he said. "No one seemed to know when you might return."

"Daddy knew."

Dax's face clouded. "I only saw el Presidente once. And then only for a few minutes. He was busy."

"Daddy's always very busy."

Dax heard the captain clearing his throat behind them. Awkwardly Amparo turned. "Capitan de Ortega, Senor Xenos."

The soldier saluted, then stepped forward to take Dax's outstretched hand. "Your excellency."

"Capitan de Ortega. Welcome to my house."

There were footsteps on the veranda and Amparo whirled around. "Fat Cat," she cried, "you haven't changed at all!"

Amparo appeared in a white gown at dinner. A diamond-and-emerald necklace was at her throat and matching ear clips accented the blondness of her hair. The candlelight seemed to add a warm ivory tint to her tanned skin.

Dax smiled at her over coffee. "You're the first guest I've had since my return. You'll have to stay for a few days. We have much to catch up on."

"I'd love to," she replied, then hesitated and looked at Captain de Ortega.

"I promised your father we would return tomorrow."

Dax glanced at de Ortega. The captain's face was expressionless as his eyes turned to Amparo.

"I'm afraid the captain is right," she said reluctantly.

Dax didn't press it. "Come, we shall have a liqueur on the galeria."

The soldier got up. "I must see to my men, your excellency. And then, if you will permit, I shall turn in. We must be on the road early."

Dax nodded. "Of course, Captain."

When the soldier left the room, Dax turned to Amparo. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Dax took out one of his thin black cigars.

"May I have a cigarette?"

"Excuse me." Dax pushed the box toward her, then held a fight.

Amparo took a deep drag and leaned back. "Well?"

He thought for a moment, then took the cigar from his mouth and studied it. "Many things have changed," he replied reflectively. "It has been a long time."

"Ten years is not so long." Her eyes were large and dark blue. "I haven't changed, have you?"

He shook his head. "You have changed, and so have I. Everything has changed."

"Some things never change."

They sat looking out into the night. The stars twinkled brightly in the velvet blue sky and the fires of the soldiers were like fireflies in the field across the road.

"Do you always travel with an escort of soldiers?"

"Yes."

He looked at her. "Why?"

"Father insists. There is always danger. Thieves. Bandoleros."

He grinned wryly. "Still?"

She nodded seriously. "There are a few who still oppose my father. They refuse to see the good." She looked at him suddenly, aware of how he must feel. "You're disappointed, aren't you? You expected everything to be changed."

"In a way I did."

"It's not that easy," she replied quickly. "I know how you feel. I felt the same after I returned from five years at the university in Mexico. But after I had been home for a while I began to understand."

"You did?"

"Yes. You have been away even longer than I, Dax; you've forgotten the way it is. Most of our people don't want change. They want to be given things, not to work for them. Even sending their children to school is too much of an effort."

"Maybe it's because there is no room for them in the schools, and only the children of officials can get in."

"It wasn't like that at first. But after a while they just stopped going."

Dax didn't answer.

"Father's biggest concern is to prepare for the war."

He looked at her questioningly.

"You've been abroad. You know a war is coming."

"What have we to do with that?" he asked. "Corteguay is not involved."

"Not directly, no. But el Presidente says it will be a great opportunity for our country to become self-sustaining. Someone will have to supply them with food."

"Wars aren't fought on bananas and coffee."

"He knows that. More than three years ago he approached the big cattle ranchers in Argentina. He granted them special concessions to set up operations here. By next year we will have close to a million pounds of beef available for export."

Dax knew what concessions el Presidente had probably made. He wondered how much had ended up in his pocket. "And how much meat is available to the campesinos?"

"You have been away a long time," Amparo said. "Have you forgotten that campesinos don't eat beef? They prefer their own foods. Vegetables. Chicken. Pork."

"Maybe that's because beef has always been too expensive."

She was suddenly angry. "My father was right—you're exactly like your father!"

Dax looked at her. "El Presidente said that?"

She nodded.

He smiled suddenly. "That's one of the nicest things he ever said."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Dax. Dax. I didn't come here to quarrel with you."

"We won't, I promise."

"What are you going to do? You can't stay here in the hills doing nothing."

He took the cigar from his mouth and looked at it for a moment, then threw it over the railing. It burst into a scatter of sparks. "I've thought about that," he said slowly. "But I don't see that there's anything for me to do. I hung around Curatu for almost three weeks. No one offered me anything so I came home."

"El Presidente is very hurt that you did not come to talk with him before you left."

"How could I? Every time I sent in a request to see him he was too busy."

"How could he have known you were planning to leave?"

"Would it have made any difference? What was I supposed to do? Hang around forever like a dog hoping for a bone?"

"Come back to Curatu with me and see him."

He looked at her. "Is that your idea or his?"

She hesitated a moment. "Mine. He would never admit he is hurt and longs to see you."

Dax looked at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"No, I think I'll stay here. When your father wants me he'll send for me."

That had been almost a year ago, and Dax had remained at the hacienda for almost nine months before el Presidente had summoned him. When he was ushered into the office el Presidente threw his arms around him and greeted him as if it had been only yesterday when last they had seen each other.

"Your father's greatest ambition," he said to Dax, "was to see the country united under one government representing all the people equally. It is also mine. This has been almost accomplished. But in Asiento el Condor, the old bandolero, still resists. El Condor knew your father and respected him. He would listen were you to approach him with an offer of amnesty. His participation in the government would be without prejudice."

CHAPTER 6

"I am not a politico,'" the old bandolero said. "I am only a simple murderer so there is much of which you speak that I do not understand. But this I do know. I would like my son to go to school. To learn to read and write and speak with the smoothness of your tongue. I would not wish for him to spend his life in these hills engaged merely in a struggle for his existence."

Dax looked across the fire at el Condor. The old man was seated on the ground, his legs crossed in front of him Indian fashion, the thin cheroot gripped between his lips, his hawk like face tight over the bones. He glanced around at the others. The bandolero's lieutenants stared back at him expressionlessly. The morning sun glinted on their knives and guns. Behind the old one stood the son of whom he spoke.

Slim and straight, he stared at Dax, his fourteen-year-old eyes filled with an animal wariness. Like his elders, he had a knife and revolver in his belt.

Dax turned back to el Condor. "Then you will accept el President's offer?"

"I am an old man," the bandolero replied. "It does not matter much if I die. But I would not wish my son to die with me."

"No one will be harmed. That is the personal guarantee of el Presidente."

"I do not desire to become governor of Asiento," el Condor went on as if he had not heard. "What do I know of government? I just do not want that my son should die." He took the cheroot from his mouth and looked at it, then raked out an ember from the fire and refit it. "I had eight sons and three daughters. They are all dead but this one."

"No one will die," Dax repeated. "El Presidente himself guarantees that."

The old man kicked the ember back into the fire. "Diablo Rojo is a fool. Guiterrez will kill us all."

Dax stared at the bandolero. The old one's face was impassive; only the faint glitter in his coal-black eyes betrayed his Indian heritage. He wondered how to explain to a man for whom time did not exist that Guiterrez had long since gone. That this was a new government, even though the soldiers wore the same uniform. That it had been many years since Presidente de Cordoba had been Diablo Rojo, a bandolero in the hills, and that he himself had seen Guiterrez captured and taken away to die. Before an answer had taken shape in his mind the old man spoke again.

"If you will guarantee the life of my son. You personally, swearing on the soul of your sainted father whom we all loved and respected. Then I am prepared to accept Diablo Rojo's offer."

"I swear it."

El Condor sighed softly. "Bueno." He got stiffly to his feet. "Go then to Diablo Rojo and tell him I will meet him in the village of Asiento on the last day of this month. There will be no more war between us."

El Presidente waited until the door had closed behind his secretary before he spoke. "You have done well in the mountains."

Dax did not answer, for no answer was expected. He looked across the desk at el Presidente. The man seemed never to change. Save for the slight graying of his hair he looked exactly as he had the first time Dax saw him. He was dressed in the uniform of a general but without medals, insignia, or braid. This, he believed, showed him to be a man of the people.

"There will be peace now. El Condor was the last of the important ones. The others, they are nothing. We can pick them off like flies."

"Perhaps the same arrangement could be made with them? They would be willing once they saw how el Condor was received."

El Presidente dismissed this with a gesture. "They are not worth the bother. We shall take care of them." He clasped his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "At any rate you will not have to concern yourself with such problems. I am appointing you consul at large. You are going back to Europe."

Dax stared at him. "To Europe? What for?"

El Presidente opened his hands. "The war in Spain is drawing to a close. It is time we established relations with the new government of Francisco Franco."

"But what of General Mola?" Dax asked. "I thought he was to be president."

El Presidente shook his head. "Mola talks too much. I realized that as soon as I heard his statement about the fifth column. With those words he lost his power, because Madrid did not fall immediately. The first thing a leader must learn is to keep his mouth shut. He must never let anyone, friend or enemy, know what he is thinking or planning."

Dax was silent for a moment. He wondered how many men besides his own father had been deceived by el Presidente's calculated silence. He pushed the thought from his mind. "What do you expect me to do in Spain?"

"Spain will need food. We have food to sell. Spain will also need supplies with which to rebuild. All kinds. The stupidity of the gringos will keep them from doing business with Franco. We can obtain whatever is required from them and transship it to Spain."

Dax looked at the older man with a growing respect.

Suddenly he understood what had set him apart from the countless other bandoleros who had come down from the hills. Now he knew what had attracted his father. Right or wrong, selfishly or unselfishly, el Presidente always planned ahead. And no matter how much disappeared into his own pocket, Corteguay benefited.

"You will go to Franco," el Presidente continued, "and you will make a deal with him. We will be the agents for Spain in the markets of the world."

"What if Franco is not interested?"

El Presidente smiled. "Franco will be interested, I know the man. He is like me, a realist. He knows that he can no longer count on his allies Germany and Italy once his war is over. They will soon be involved in a war of their own. Have no fears, Franco will make a deal."

"When do you want me to leave?"

"On the third of next month a ship sails for France. You will be aboard." He got out of his chair and walked around the desk to Dax. "And now there is just one more thing."

Dax smiled. "Yes?"

El Presidente did not answer immediately. He pulled a chair close to Dax and sat down. Subtly his voice changed. "You know for a long time now I have thought of you as my own son. I remember when my two boys died, when you came down from the hills with Amparo. I think often of you two."