Authors: Donald Hamilton
We proceeded from the anteroom into a large room with a very fine carved ceiling. A man was working at a large desk, and a woman was working at a smaller one. The woman picked up the phone, spoke into it briefly, and nodded to Echeverria. Another armed sentry opened the door as we approached; then we were entering the presence of the President of Costa Verde. It occurred to me that I would really much rather have been stalking him with a gun, not because he was such a bad man—although on the record he was—but because, while I’m always fairly confident of my ability with firearms, I wasn’t a bit certain that I was clever enough with words to pull off what I planned here.
It was another fine light room with a high carved ceiling and windows on two sides. There was a maroon carpet on the floor, the modern wall-to-wall stuff seeming a little out of place in that old-fashioned atmosphere. There was a big shiny desk of antique design. I wasn’t good enough at antiques to determine if it was genuinely old or a modern replica. There were several large chairs of a similar pattern; but the president’s own piece of sitting-furniture was of thronelike proportions, with a back that kind of enveloped the smallish plump figure in bemedaled army uniform that occupied it.
It would have been very unwise to crack a smile, of course. I put from my mind, very firmly, the thought of a certain small, round, crowned cartoon character who appears daily in my hometown newspaper, and kept my face very polite and sober.
President Rael looked at us for a moment and spoke in English: “Señor Bultman we know, Señor Director. Be so kind as to introduce to us this other gentleman.”
“He is an American government agent named Matthew Helm, Your Excellency. However, he is traveling under the false name and passport of one Samuel Felton and pretending to be a magazine photographer. He says we will approve of his reasons for breaking our laws in this manner.”
Rael turned to my companion. “Do you vouch for this man, Señor Bultman?”
Bultman threw me a slightly apologetic glance and shook his head. He said, “By no means,
Excelentisimo.
How can I? I only met him a few days ago, although I had heard of him previously. But he seems to have useful information in his possession; and I thought you should hear what he has to say. If he should be telling the truth, he could make easier the task for which you have employed me—the primary task for which you have employed me.”
“Yes, the secondary task was executed in a highly satisfactory manner, as we have already informed you.”
They were presumably discussing the release of our group of kidnapees, which had, as I’d promised, been credited largely to Bultman. He was the one who in the end had escorted us out of the jungle and summoned transportation to take us to Santa Rosalia.
Since there were several in the party who would have taken pleasure in doing exactly the opposite to what I asked them, even if I begged them not to jump off a cliff, I’d got hold of General Henderson and explained that, both for Ricardo Jimenez’s sake and our own, it would be better if Ricardo’s name did not figure in the stories we gave to the press. We should agree to say only that we had escaped Labal through our own efforts, but we had been about to be recaptured by the wicked
bandidos
when Bultman and his little force had appeared in the nick of time to drive them off and bring us to safety. Rather to my surprise, even the most obstructionist members of the group had gone along with Henderson’s suggestions, putting Bultman into my debt, not only for his life, but for whatever bonus Rael had promised him for getting us released.
Bultman bowed in acknowledgment of the president’s complimentary words. “Your Excellency is too kind.”
Rael stared at us across the table. He was not as small as the big chair made him look. His solid stoutness made him appear to be a very short man; actually he was a rounded individual of only a little less than average height for that part of the world. He had a thin black moustache that reminded me unpleasantly of the late Lieutenant Barbera’s hirsute decoration. His eyes were small and brown and not unintelligent, but they did hold a rooster arrogance—not a man to whom you’d offer any slight or insult, at least not as long as he was in a position of power.
“Be seated, gentlemen,” he said at last. I had a hunch he’d have kept us standing to inflate his ego, except that his ego could not bear to look up at taller men. “Now, Señor Helm, or whatever your name is, let us hear your reasons for breaking the laws of our country.”
“It is a rather long story, Your Excellency,” I said. “May I tell it from the beginning?”
“Pray do.”
I spoke without expression: “A few weeks ago I was asked to assassinate the President of Costa Verde.” This created a certain sensation. I waited until the stir had subsided. I went on smoothly: “The request was made, indirectly, by a gentleman with whom I had once operated in this country, when he was a member of your armed forces: Colonel Hector Jimenez.”
“We are acquainted with the name.” Rael’s voice was cold. “Why should this exile Jimenez approach you on such a matter?”
“Because, as I said, we worked together once, and he knows I’m good, Your Excellency,” I said.
Echeverria said tartly, “Hardly a matter of pride, I should think, to be a skillful murderer.”
I took a chance and said with a shrug, “Some people take pride in skillful assassination, some in skillful, er, interrogation. As we say in my country, it takes all kinds.” Anger showed in Echeverria’s face. I spoke respectfully to Rael: “Do you wish me to continue with my story, Your Excellency, or should we debate the subject of self-esteem?”
“Continue,” Rael said, but I’d seen a flicker of pleasure in his small eyes. He had not been unhappy to see the powerful head of his secret police slightly discomfited, a good sign.
I went on, “You are aware, of course, that Jimenez had organized a previous attempt upon your life that failed miserably, using an amateur marksman, a member of his own family. Stubbornly intent upon his purpose even after this disaster, he apparently remembered me. It may be that time had left him with a rather glorified memory of my abilities; at any rate he seems to have convinced himself that I was the man for the job, the only man for the job.”
“Even though he knew you to be still an employee of the United States Government?”
“He took care of that,
Excelentisimo
, or thought he did. He abducted—or had abducted—and threatened the life of a lady who meant a great deal to me.”
Rael watched me closely. “A dreadful predicament for you, Señor Helm.”
“Dreadful,” I said, “but hardly a predicament. A predicament is a trap without an exit. We have standing orders governing such situations. It was, of course, a ridiculous demand anyway, Your Excellency, considering the high regard in which you are held by the government I serve. I informed the go-between, another of Jimenez’s offspring, that I could not possibly comply with the request.” I cleared my throat. “Shortly thereafter the dead body of the kidnaped young lady was delivered to my doorstep.”
There was a little silence. Echeverria broke it, with a sneer in his voice. “You are a strong-minded man, to make such a sacrifice.”
I ignored him and continued to speak to the elaborately uniformed little man on the far side of the big desk. “Naturally, Your Excellency, I requested permission to punish those who had done this. The permission was refused, in a qualified way. I was told that for an agent of the U.S. government to indulge in private retribution
within the borders of our country
was unthinkable; there was too great a chance of the agency being compromised. However, my chief does not like us to be subjected to this form of coercion. He therefore left the door open for me to deal with any Jimenez or guilty associate I could catch abroad. He even authorized light surveillance of their Chicago establishment so I could be alerted if any of them should leave for foreign parts.” I paused and smiled thinly. “I’m afraid I exceeded my orders slightly there,
Excelentisimo.
I arranged to have a close watch kept on the Jimenez household. Then, having learned that one of the sons was leaving the U.S. and heading this way, I joined the same tour, made his acquaintance, and worked hard to gain his confidence.”
“That was the escaped assassin, Ricardo Jimenez?” When I nodded, Rael went on: “You intended to kill him?”
“Of course, Your Excellency. Let the murdering parent sit safe in Chicago. I would bring him the news of his first-born’s death. A small compensation for what he had done to me.”
“But you did not carry out your intentions.”
“That is correct, Your Excellency. Acting as a friend to Ricardo Jimenez, managing his wheelchair, drinking with him as I laid my plans to deal with him, I happened to obtain from him some information that, as an agent, I felt duty-bound to transmit to Washington. I felt obliged to ask for official instructions, even though they might conflict with my private plans.”
I was conscious of Bultman, on my right, listening carefully and saying nothing. He was aware, of course, that I was bending the truth slightly here and there, but his face remained impassive. Echeverria, beyond him, leaned forward impatiently.
“Well, what was this invaluable information?”
I addressed Rael: “One evening after I’d got him slightly drunk, Your Excellency, young Jimenez boasted to me that he planned to pick a fight with Lupe Montano, kill him, and take over control of that ragtag rebel movement of Lupe’s.” It seemed diplomatic to describe the revolutionary movement in derogatory terms whenever possible. I went on: “I guessed that the young man was acting on behalf of his father, an experienced army officer, since Ricardo himself knows nothing of soldiering beyond what he learned as a boy in some military school or other. I assumed that if the murder attempt was successful, Hector Jimenez himself would then try to slip into the country and take command of the so-called Army of Liberation from his son.”
That should do it, I thought. Never try to sell a simple homicide if you can make it into a complicated conspiracy; everybody loves a conspiracy. And the thought of this one should reinforce Rael’s already strong motive for desiring the death of Hector Jimenez.
“This is what you reported to your superiors in Washington?” Rael was still watching my face closely; I saw that I had his interest, if not his trust. When I nodded, he asked, “What orders did they give you?”
I said, “I was informed, Your Excellency, of Señor Bultman’s visit to the Costa Verde capital. I was told that there were indications that you had probably hired him to dispose of the elder Jimenez in Chicago. I was ordered to forget my revenge. I was instructed to let the younger Jimenez live and proceed with his plan to eliminate Lupe de Montano. I was also ordered to give Señor Bultman every assistance with his Chicago project, except that of course our agency must still not be known to have been involved. If things went as planned, I was told, a valuable ally of the United States”—I bowed respectfully toward the man behind the desk—“would have been relieved of two adult and experienced enemies, Lupe Montano and Hector Jimenez, and would face only a ragged bunch of self-styled revolutionaries led by an inexperienced and crippled boy. It was thought, Your Excellency, that you would find this solution to the problem satisfactory.”
Rael frowned judiciously. “It certainly has a great deal to recommend it, wouldn’t you say, Señor Echeverria? And we are informed that the bandit Montano is already dead at the hands of the young Jimenez, confirming at least part of Señor Helm’s story.” When Echeverria did not speak, clearly reluctant to approve of me in any way, Rael made a small gesture of impatience and turned back to me. “What assistance can you offer in the Chicago matter, señor?”
I said, “As I said,
Excelentisimo
, I have had the Jimenez menage there under close observation for several weeks. I have some reports here that may interest Your Excellency.
Con permiso
?” When he nodded, I took out the envelope I’d asked our man to get me. I said, “Señor Bultman may like to examine these also. Here is the current composition of the household. There is the family: Hector himself, the daughter Dolores, and the younger son Emilio. There is also a close friend of these young people named Manuel Santos Cordoba.” I saw Echeverria glance at me sharply, and I knew that my voice had changed a bit, but I’d been unable to help it; pronouncing the names of Leona the Lioness and Lobo the Wolf, and what I now knew to be the name of Oso the Bear. I cleared my throat and went on: “Then there are six other men on the grounds who pose as servants, ostensibly a chauffeur, a valet, a butler, a gardener, a yard man, and a male cook. The names and dossiers are here.”
I paused to give Rael time to catch up. He looked through the papers and slid them across the desk to Bultman, and nodded to me to go on.
“Here is the latest watch schedule maintained on the premises,” I said. “Here is an aerial photo of the grounds, which, Your Excellency will note, are quite extensive and well fenced. A detailed drawing of the house interior. A diagram of the alarm system. Positions of the yard lights; locations of the switches. An estimate of available weapons. There are two guard dogs kept in kennels when they are not on duty. Here.” I pointed to the aerial photo. “They are cared for, and largely handled, by Manuel Cordoba. Names. Breeds. Duty schedules. Feeding time and type of food. Commands.” I straightened up from the papers on the desk and sat back in my chair. “That’s all I have for now, Your Excellency, but if other information is required by Señor Bultman, it can probably be obtained. My observers are still in position.” Rael glanced at Bultman, who said, “All this could not have been obtained without alerting the subjects to the fact of surveillance.”
“Of course they’re alert,” I said. “They have been alert for almost a month; I have deliberately kept them so. My people were instructed not to be too inconspicuous. If I am not allowed to attack the murderers directly, I can at least make them sweat as they huddle inside their suburban fortress, knowing that they are being watched every minute of the day and night. They think I will be coming for them eventually—I made some loud threatening noises before I left Chicago—they just don’t know when.”