La Cora pulled her peignoir closer around her and touched her hair. “Had I known of your visit, Princesa, I would have made myself more presentable. If you could grant me a moment perhaps I could change into something more suitable?”
“Of course.”
Amparo turned to me as soon as La Cora had left the room. “She does have big tetas, doesn’t she?” she whispered.
I suddenly heard a voice through the open window. I walked over and looked out. I couldn’t see who was speaking, for whoever it was was directly beneath the window and hidden from my view. But the voice was oddly familiar.
“La bomba must be placed on the table exactly at midnight!”
The answering voice was indistinguishable. “It will be done, excelencia.”
“See to it. There must be no blunders!”
There was a moment’s silence, then two men came into view. One was the majordomo, the other Señor Guardas. The majordomo’s hand came up in a half salute as Señor Guardas turned and hurried off. No wonder the voice had seemed familiar; I had heard it only a moment before. I turned to Amparo.
She was studying herself in the mirror. “Do you think my tetas will get to be as big as La Cora’s?”
“I think so,” I replied dryly.
She saw my face in the mirror. “What is puzzling you?”
“They must be having a big entertainment tonight,” I said. “They’re even having firecrackers on the table.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Just now. I heard La Cora’s manager giving the instructions to the majordomo. He wanted la bomba placed on the table exactly at midnight. I wonder what sort of entertainment they are going to have?”
La Cora’s voice came from the doorway. “It is actually only a simple little party for el Presidente and a few members of the cabinet. We honor the beginning of his third year as our leader and benefactor.”
“Oh, then that must be the reason for la bomba at midnight.”
La Cora laughed. “The way you say it makes it sound most ominous. Actually, it’s to be molded of ice cream.”
“That’s a very clever idea,” I said. “La bomba de helado.”
La Cora looked over at Amparo. “You know how your father loves ice cream.”
Just then the majordomo came into the room with the tea tray.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Amparo said suddenly. “I’ve just remembered I have to be back at the residencia. Are you coming, Dax?”
I looked at La Cora apologetically, then hurried after Amparo, who was already disappearing down the hallway. I caught up to her just before she reached the front door. “What are you so angry about?” I asked, holding it open for her.
“I hate her!”
The two soldiers fell in behind us as we walked off toward the residencia. “Why?” I asked. “What has she ever done to you?”
Amparo looked at me coldly. “You’re like all men. You see nothing but a big pair of tetas.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is! I saw the way you were drooling. You couldn’t look anywhere else.”
“What did you expect me to do?” I asked. “There wasn’t much else to look at.”
Amparo stopped as we started up the walk to her private entrance. “You never looked at me like that.”
“I will,” I promised, “when you grow up.”
“If you were a gentleman you would look at me that way now!”
I looked at her. Then in spite of myself I had to laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
“There’s nothing to look at.”
I saw her hand coming and I caught it just before it could slap me. “Why do you want to do that?”
Her eyes flashed angrily. “I hate you!” She pulled her hand away from mine and drew herself up haughtily. “I never want to see you again!”
I shrugged and started down the walk.
“Dax!”
“Yes?”
She held out her hand. “You didn’t kiss me good-bye.”
74
I felt a rough hand shaking my shoulder. I rolled away from it and burrowed back under the sheets. They were soft and warm. I didn’t want to go to school. I might even plead illness.
“Wake up, Dax!” Fat Cat’s voice was harsh, urgent.
My subconscious identified the sound. I had heard it before. In the jungle, in the mountains. It meant danger. I sat up in bed, wide awake now. Night was still outside the windows. “What is it?”
Fat Cat’s face was tense. “Your father wants to see you right away!”
I glanced out the window, then back at him. “Now?”
“Inmediatamente!”
I was out of the bed and dressing. I glanced at the clock; it was two in the morning. I felt a cold dread creep over me. I shivered as I buttoned my shirt. “He has been hurt! He is dying!”
Fat Cat remained grim and silent.
I stared at him as he handed me my jacket. “La bomba!”
I saw the surprise come into his face. I spoke again before he could. “La bomba de helado! Asesinato!”
He crossed himself quickly. “You knew?”
I grabbed his hand. “Is my father alive? Tell me!”
“He is alive. But we must hurry.”
The chauffeur was behind the wheel of the big black Hudson, the motor racing. We got in silently and immediately we roared out the driveway toward the Palacio del Presidente. The guards waved us through without the usual identification.
I was out of the car and inside before Fat Cat was off the seat. The foyer was crowded with men. I saw el Presidente sitting in a chair in the corner. He was bare to the waist and a doctor was winding a bandage around the upper part of his chest. His face was white and drawn as he looked at me.
“Where is my father?”
He gestured toward La Cora’s apartamiento. “In the bedroom.”
Without another word I ran out the door toward the apartamiento. The first room was the living room, where Amparo and I had been earlier that day. Plaster and dust were everywhere. Half the far wall had been blown inward. I ran through what was left of the doorway to the dining room.
It was completely wrecked. The big windows and French doors were blasted open to the night. Tables and chairs everywhere were broken into fragments. The bodies of two men still lay on the floor but I didn’t waste even a look at them.
I went through another doorway into a small foyer. There was a closed door at the opposite end which two soldiers were guarding. One of them opened the door when he saw me.
I came to a dead stop in the doorway. Two priests were already there; a portable altar had been set up at the foot of the bed and the flickering light of the candle cast a wavering shadow of a crucifix onto the wall. One was kneeling before the altar; the other, bending over the bed, held a crucifix above my father’s face. On the opposite side of the bed was a doctor, a hypodermic needle in his hand.
My legs were suddenly leaden. I stumbled as I came into the room and caught a chair to right myself. “Papá!”
Then I was at the side of the bed, tears running down my cheeks. His face was ashen gray and I could feel the cold sweat on his cheek as I bent to kiss him. He didn’t move.
I looked at the doctor. “He’s dead!”
The doctor shook his head.
“Don’t lie to me!” I shouted. “He’s dead!”
I put my hands under my father’s shoulders to lift him. My father groaned and I lowered my hands as if I had been scorched. There was an empty space on his left side. I stared at the doctor. “Where is his arm?”
The doctor’s face was expressionless. “It was blown off by the explosion.”
I sensed a flicker of light coming from over my head and, looking up, I saw that the canopy over the bed was mirrored. I could see the weird shapes we made as we stood about the bed. Slowly I looked around the room. It was all red velvet and gilt. On the walls hung paintings of nude men and women. And in each corner were statues of couples in obscen
e embrace.
My father groaned again. I looked down at him. The beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. The doctor leaned over and wiped them away as I slowly got to my feet. “Take him out of here!”
“No,” the doctor said, “it is dangerous to move him.”
“I don’t care!” I shouted. “Take him out of here! I won’t have him die here in this whore’s room!”
I felt the priest’s hands on my shoulders. “My son—”
I shook myself free. “I want him out of here! A harlot’s bed is no place for a man to die!”
The doctor started to speak, then fell silent as a voice came from behind me. It was el Presidente’s. He stood in the open doorway, the bandage still around his naked chest. “The child is father to the man,” he said. “You will do as the boy commands.”
“But—” the doctor protested.
“He will be taken, bed and all, to my own room in the residencia!”
El Presidente’s voice was final and commanding. He gestured to the soldiers in the hallway behind him. They covered Papá with more blankets. It took ten of them to lift the heavy bed and carry it out of the house and down the walk to the residencia. Fat Cat and I followed silently, and it wasn’t until I had seen my father moved into el Presidente’s own chamber that I turned to the priest who had come from La Cora’s bedroom with us. “Now, Padre, I shall pray!”
The faint light of morning was just coming into the room when el Presidente opened the door an hour later. He stood looking at me for a moment, then crossed to the bed where my father lay. I watched him as he stood there silently. His face showed no expression.
Then he turned. “Come, soldadito. It is time for breakfast.”
I shook my head.
“You can leave him. He will live.”
I looked into his eyes.
“I would not lie to you,” he said quietly. “He will live.”
I believed him. He put an arm around my shoulder as we started out of the room. In the doorway I looked back. My father seemed to be sleeping. I could see the rise and fall of the white coverlet over his chest.
We went downstairs. The smell of hot food came to my nostrils, and suddenly I was hungry. I sat down at the table in the dining room and a servant placed a platter of ham and eggs before me. I began to eat ravenously.
El Presidente sat in a chair at the head of the table and another servant brought him a cup of steaming coffee. He wore a loose-fitting shirt, so I could not see whether he was still bandaged, but he moved his arm awkwardly as he lifted the cup.
“Now do you feel better?” he asked as I pushed back my empty plate.
I nodded. A servant put a cup of cafe con leche before me. I raised it to my lips. The coffee was hot and good. I sipped it, then put the cup down. “What happened to La Cora?”
El Presidente’s eyes flamed. “La puta, she got away!”
“How?”
“She left the room when the ice cream was placed upon the table. She said she wished to freshen up, but instead she left the grounds immediately in a black car. She and another, a man with a beard, were in the backseat. Her majordomo was driving.” He picked up his coffee cup again. “But we will find her, and when we do—”
“Didn’t the guards stop the car?”
“No, and already they have paid for their carelessness!”
“The bomb was in the ice cream?”
A surprised look came over his face. “How did you know?”
I told him of the conversation I had overheard yesterday under La Cora’s window. He sat silently all through my accounting. When I had finished a knock came at the door. He nodded to a servant, who went to the door.
An army officer, a captain, entered and saluted. El Presidente negligently returned the salute.
“We have found La Cora and the majordomo, excelencia.”
“Bueno.” El Presidente rose to his feet. “I personally shall attend to those two.”
“They are already dead, excelencia.”
“I said I wanted them alive!” el Presidente shouted angrily.
“They were already dead when we discovered them, excelencia. They were in the black car in which they had made their escape. They had been shot, and their throats were also slit.”
“Where was the car found?”
“La Calle del Paredos, Presidente.”
I knew the road. It led from the mountains to the docks.
“Where on the road?”
“Near the bay.”
“And the man with the beard?”
“There was no sign of him. We searched the whole area, even the docks. He had vanished.”
El Presidente was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Capitán.”
He turned to me. “Now it is time for you to rest. I have had a guest room prepared for you. You will live here with us until your father has completely recovered.”
I slept fitfully, and I was troubled by dreams. And in one of them I was back in the yard of my grandfather’s house. The sun was white hot and I could feel it burning into my brain as I kept hearing an oddly familiar voice. “There is one bullet left in the gun. You will kill him!”
I rolled over and sat up erect in the bed, my eyes wide and staring. It was late afternoon, and suddenly I knew where I had heard that voice. La Cora’s manager, Señor Guardas, the man with the beard, was Coronel Guiterrez.
I jumped out of bed and began to dress quickly. I didn’t know how, but this time I would find him. This time he would not get away. Because I would kill him.
75
Fat Cat fell in behind me as I came out of the room. I walked down the hall and stuck my head into my father’s room. “How is he?”
“He is still asleep,” the doctor said.
I turned and continued down the corridor toward the staircase. Amparo was coming up as I started down. Her hand stopped me. For once she wasn’t playing the princess. “Is your papá all right?”
“Yes. He is sleeping.”
“You were asleep, too,” Amparo said. “I wanted you to have lunch with me.”
“Later,” I replied, starting down the steps again. “I have work to do.”
I went out the front door and signaled for the car.
“Where are we going?” Fat Cat asked.
“To the docks.”
I didn’t wait for him to open the door. I jumped in and he climbed quickly into the front seat. He twisted around as the car began to move. “What for?”
“To find the man with the beard, the one who got away.”
“How can you do that? The policía and el militar have searched the whole city. They could not find a trace of him.”
I shrugged and directed the car to the pier where I had been yesterday. I walked down the dock to the catwalk. The same two boys were there, fishing around the piling.
“Campesinos!”
They looked up, their faces sullen. They exchanged looks, then concentrated again on their fishing.
“Campesinos!” I called again. “Yesterday you begged for a few centavos. Today I bring you one hundred pesos!”
This time they didn’t look away, but stared up at me with disbelief in their eyes.
“Come up, I will not harm you.”
They hesitated a moment, then laying down their fishing poles, came up onto the catwalk. The older boy took off his hat. “What is it you wish from us, excelencia?”
“To find a man.” I gave them a brief description of La Cora’s manager, Vandyke and all. “Sometime last night he was in this neighborhood. I wish to discover where he is now.”
They looked at each other. “Such a man would be hard to find, excelencia.”
“Harder to find than one hundred pesos?” I asked.
“La policía has already been looking for such a man,” the bigger one said. “They did not find him.”
“They did not offer one hundred pesos for information,” I answered, and started back to the car.
“We do not wish trouble w
ith the authorities, excelencia.”
I turned. “There will be no trouble.”
The two looked at each other. “We will see what we can discover.”
“Bueno. I shall be back in two hours. If you bring me information you will be richer by one hundred pesos.”
I walked back to the car. Fat Cat looked at me with a curious respect in his eyes. “Do you think they will find out anything?”
“If they are as hungry as you say they are, they will. Now take me home. I must get money.”
I went straight to my father’s den. I knew where he kept the small iron box—in the bottom drawer of his desk. The key was in a drawer on the opposite side. I opened the box and took out one hundred pesos. Then, because I was suddenly hungry, I went down to the kitchen and asked the cook to give me something to eat.
At four thirty in the afternoon I got out of the car with Fat Cat and walked out on the dock.
“I told you they would find nothing,” Fat Cat said smugly. “See, they are not even here.”
“They will come.”
We went back to the car and waited. It was almost twenty minutes before they did. Then they appeared in the mouth of the alley across the street, where they whistled, gestured, and disappeared. I crossed the street, Fat Cat right behind me, and walked back in the alley where we could not be seen from the street.
“Have you the money?” the older asked.
I took the hundred pesos from my pocket. “Do you have the information?”
“How do we know you will give us the money?”
“How do I know you will tell the truth after you receive the money?”
They looked at each other and shrugged.
“We are forced to trust one another.”
The older one nodded. “At three this morning such a man as you describe boarded a ship at Pier Seven. The one flying the flag of Panama.”
“If you have lied to me you’ll pay for it!”
“We have not lied, excelencia.”
I gave them the money, then turned and ran out the alley. At Pier Seven I got out of the car and located the ship, then started up the gangplank. But the sailor on duty at the top of the gangplank stopped me.
“We sail in an hour,” he said abruptly. “No visitors.”
Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 102