“Also, I would like to see if our other visitor—what’s his name?”
“O’Bannion, Mr. Maury Bannion.”
“Well, see if he can meet with me in my study at 10:15—no, 10:30 this morning would be better. Mason, I want you there also. If he has any interesting proposition for El Presidente, I may want to set up a meeting between us, O’Bannion and Huerta.”
“Just who is this O’Bannion, Mr. Ambassador?”
“Interesting. Three weeks ago I received confidential letters of introduction of this fellow from Mr. Edward Doheny and United States Senator Albert Fall.”
“I’ve heard of Mr. Doheny, the head of the American owned Mexican Petroleum.”
“With close ties to Standard Oil.”
“Oh yes. Wasn’t he fairly close to President Diaz?”
“Diaz was worried about the rumors of a merger of Mexican Petroleum and Standard Oil. He wanted assurances from Doheny that Mexican Petroleum wouldn’t fall into the control of Standard.”
“What’s his concern now with Huerta?”
“He is afraid El Presidente might be leaning toward European oil interests, especially the British, with concessions detrimental to American oil interest. A distinct possibility, I might add, if our country continues to refuse recognition of Huerta’s de facto government. Doheny and similar interests in the United States have been strenuously urging the immediate recognition of Huerta before he turns to the Europeans.”
“I do not know the senator from whom you also received a letter of introduction.”
“Albert Fall. He is the senator from New Mexico. Because of his letter of introduction of O’Bannion, he must have some connection with the Doheny interests. He has been strongly working in the Congress on the immediate recognition of Huerta, to no avail because of the President’s obstinacy.”
42
SETH LET HIMSELF QUIETLY INTO their room at the embassy. He had worked up a sweat from his morning walk and was looking forward to a bath. The early morning air had enticed him to walk the ten long blocks up Chapultepec Avenue as far as the Citadel and the Belem prison. It was at these two fortress like structures where Feliz Diaz’s 1500 rebels had pretended to hold off Federalist troops just last February in what the Mexican press was calling the Decima Tragica. It was also here that Seth became aware he was being followed.
Hand Comfort raised his bleary-eyed unshaven face from beneath the covers on the bed. “That you, Pard?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“What’s the time?”
“Quarter to six.”
“Past milking time,” Hand said sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Looking at Seth’s street clothes, he added, “Where have you been gallivanting to at this hour?”
“Thought I would get some exercise before it got too hot. Walked up the avenue for a bit.” He loosened and pulled off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Hand, I’m pretty sure that I was followed, probably from the moment I left the Embassy, didn’t pick him up until after that Belem prison.”
Hand looked concerned. “I’ll be danged. What did the feller look like?”
“Nothing special, could have been Mexican or Spanish, long face with a thin moustache, and wearing a brown suit and shapeless soft hat. Every time I stopped and turned to look at him, he would turn away and look in a store window.”
“What do you reckon that cuss was after?”
“Well, he kept his distance, about a half block back—made no attempt to close—so, I expect he was wanting to see where I was going.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him next time you and I go out.”
“It’s probably nothing important, but let’s watch for him. Mind I get the tub first?”
“Naw, but what did you think of that Ambassador feller yesterday?” He was referring to the luncheon at the American Club.
“How did he strike you?”
“Too smooth by half,” said Hand.
“Reckon being smooth is one qualification for the job of Ambassador.” Actually, Seth thought Henry Lane Wilson could not have been more congenial and cooperative. He seemingly accepted the official version of their mission at face value and made no attempt to pry beyond it. In fact, he had offered the full cooperation of his staff to facilitate their work on the claims report. But afterward Seth thought, Who am I kidding? That man is too experienced a diplomat to accept at face value the admittedly thin justification of this mission of Bryan’s. Nevertheless, he had come away with an overall favorable impression of the Ambassador, and was beginning to hope the allegations of his collusion in the overthrow and murder of the former President Madero would prove false.
He was in the act of removing his boots when there was a soft knock on the door. Hand, still in his night shirt and scratching his stomach, ambled over and opened the door toa balding young man, dressed formally in a dark suit, a black cravat and a high old fashioned hard collar.
“Howdy, stranger,” Hand said with a broad grin. “What’s your pleasure?”
The visitor visibly winced at the effusive greeting from the night shirted spectacle standing before him. He peered around the big Texan and addressed Seth sitting on the bedroom chair, holding his right boot. “May I presume you are Mr. Cane?”
Seth smiled, “Your presumption is correct. Hand, will you let the gentleman come in. What is your name, sir?”
“Bateman, sir. Cyrus Bateman. I am the personal secretary to his Excellency.”
Seth rose and dropping his boot extended his hand to the man. “How do you do, Mr. Bateman? What may I do for you?”
Bateman ignored the extended hand and said stiffly, “The Ambassador presents his compliments and requests that you join him in his study at your earliest convenience.” Seth pulled out his watch which showed that it was straight up six o’ clock. “You may inform the Ambassador that I shall be pleased to join him in exactly fifteen minutes.”
“Very well, sir. I shall convey your message. Only—”
“Yes?”
“I shouldn’t be any longer than that. The Ambassador, who has a very busy schedule today, would be extremely displeased.”
“Fifteen minutes, Cyrus.”
Hand shut the door behind the secretary who marched off with an offended expression. “What a prissy little feller that was,” he said. “Reckon what the Ambassador wants at this hour?”
“No idea,” Seth replied. “But I am ding blasted if I’ll go down there before I get my bath.”
Exactly fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds later,a bathed, shaved and obviously refreshed Seth Cane entered the Ambassador’s study to find his Excellency wearing a green dressing gown, sitting at a large library table near the window leafing through a copy of the Mexican Examiner.
Without looking up, he said, “Ah, Mr. Cane. Have you had your coffee? I’ve ordered up a pot. Have a seat.”
“Coffee would be nice, sir,” Seth said, sitting in the leather armchair across the table.
“Yes, here it is now,” said the Ambassador as a Mexican servant entered with a tray containing a silver pot with two china cups. “Very good of you to come down at this hour. I do like to get an early start on the day. Don’t you?”
The white-coated servant set the tray on the table and poured one of the cups of thick black liquid and passed it to the Ambassador. He did the same for Seth and looked at him inquiringly.
“Do you take cream and sugar?” the Ambassador asked.
“Black, thanks.”
“Do you find your accommodations here satisfactory?” Before Seth could answer, he continued, “I regret that we could not give you and Mr. Comfort separate rooms but your simultaneous arrival with our other house guests left us a bit cramped for space. I do hope—”
“We are fine,” Seth interrupted, “We had
planned to stay at Porter’s Hotel so as not to inconvenience you people here.”
“Out of the question for special agents of the Secretary of State…and perhaps…” he smiled, “also, of the President?”
OK Henry, are you trying to pry behind our cover? Seth dodged the question and avoided returning a lie, “Where is Mr. O’Bannion, by the way? I missed him at the luncheon yesterday?”
“I believe he was meeting with several officials of the government regarding future economic investments and development in this country. Today, he will be visiting some potential areas for oil and gas exploration. He is a very delightful chap. He tells me that you used to be partners in a law firm in Oklahoma. Do you still have any business connections?”
“There is no connection, Mr. Ambassador. Our being down here simultaneously is a coincidence. We split the blanket almost a year ago.”
“My dear fellow, I wasn’t suggesting that there was any connection in your both being here. Split the blanket? What a colorful phrase. Derives from some Oklahoma Indian custom, I assume. Will you have another cup?” he asked reaching for the pot the servant had left.
Seth nodded and this time the Ambassador poured. “I believe there is no more seductive smell than the aroma of steaming coffee in the morning. Do you not agree, Mr. Cane?”
“I’m afraid that when it comes to seductive smells, nothing beats expensive French perfume emanating from a gorgeous young female.”
The Ambassador’s eyes narrowed at Seth’s deliberate vulgarity. “My friend, I have but a limited experience in that department, but I have been told that unlike coffee, the aroma of perfume can often lead to the most disastrous consequences.”
To each his own. “Pardon me sir, but obviously you had something more important to discuss with me than the seductive smell of coffee.”
The Ambassador quickly masked his annoyance with a smile that contained no element of apology. “I asked you to come down this morning in order to tell you we are to meet with President Huerta this afternoon.”
“Huerta? This afternoon?”
“I assume you heard me correctly.”
“But, sir, why?”
“It is courtesy for the representative of the chief executive of a foreign, not to mention a neighboring, country, to pay a call on the head of state upon his arrival.”
“Hold on, sir, aren’t we making something out of a very routine business? Mr. Comfort and I represent only the Secretary of State, on a very minor and ministerial mission, not the kind of a thing requiring a courtesy call upon a de facto occupant of the president’s chair.”
The Ambassador’s demeanor noticeably turned cool. “Very well, technically you are right. General Huerta, nevertheless, is the de facto head of state and I am asking you as a courtesy not only to him but also to me, that you join me in meeting with President Huerta this afternoon.”
Seth sighed, “As a courtesy to you, sir, we will meet with the General.” It might be interesting to see this notorious dictator up close. What can I lose, besides, the President asked for a personal evaluation of the man. “Where and what time is this meeting planned?”
“Two o’ clock. Don’t be concerned about where, since I will accompany you. We will go in the embassy limousine.”
“Ok, Mr. Comfort and I will be ready.”
A shadow passed across the Ambassador’s face, “Er—Mr. Comfort? I don’t think it would look well for you to bring your bodyguard. You certainly will have no need for one.”
“Excuse me, a bodyguard? Mr. Comfort is not my bodyguard. You have our credentials, Mr. Ambassador. Mr. Comfort is my associate in this assignment. As such, protocol dictates that he is to be present on equal status with me at any meeting resulting from our official status here.”
The Ambassador looked at him keenly and then smiled sardonically, “As you will have it, Mr. Cane.”
Seth stood to leave and the Ambassador added: “I almost forgot, we had a routine report from our consul in Chihuahua last night about an American rancher named Zachariah Cane. It seems he purchased a large hacienda in that state from some Spanish haciendado who understandably was anxious to leave Mexico. Mr. Cane has since filed numerous complaints about harassment and rustling by bandits on his new ranch. He is petitioning the federal government here for army support to suppress these bandits. By any chance, is this Zachariah Cane related to you?”
“He’s my half-brother.”
“Ah yes. Well, he must be either exceedingly brave or extraordinarily foolish to buy that hacienda. I doubt if those are ordinary bandits giving him problems. That is Villista territory and the federal army is hard pressed to exercise any control there.”
“I see,” Seth said.
“I wonder if you do, Mr. Cane. Our friend Villa has sworn to confiscate all hacienda holdings and turn the lands over to his soldiers and their families. I suggest the better part of wisdom would be for your brother to liquidate his interest there before it is too late. He could personally be in danger.”
“Mr. Ambassador, Zack Cane doesn’t scare easily. In any case, my brother and I are not on the kind of speaking terms where he would welcome any advice from me.”
The Ambassador shook his head, “Too bad, he sounds like an admirable man treading on dangerous ground out there.”
43
THIS is A MIGHTY ROUGH looking place to meet the High Muckity Muc.” Hand Comfort loudly commented upon their entering the Café’El Globo, thereby earning him a glare from the American Ambassador. Their senses were assailed by the pungent smell of old grease and stale beer. The dirty faced wall clock indicated that it was a few minutes past two in the afternoon and the room was occupied by less than eight persons, six of whom were soldiers of the Federalist Army Sitting at cheap wooden tables, they all turned to stare suspiciously at the three Norte Americanos .
The Ambassador removed his Panama and mopped his forehead with a silk handkerchief even though the temperature outside had been only in the high seventies. He moved over to Hand and whispered, “Mr. Comfort, do me the courtesy of not referring to the President of Mexico as the High Muckity Muck.”
“Whatcha want me to call his highness?”
“President will do nicely.”
“Well, you gotta admit this here saloon is a mighty queer place to meet any president, even old Huerta.”
The Ambassador looked at Seth and shook his head, “Youmust understand gentlemen, that President Huerta, notwithstanding certain eccentricities, is the head of this nation.”
“Would one of those eccentricities be an over fondness for the bottle?” Seth asked.
“I regret to say it is,” the Ambassador said, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. “He has a reputation for having a prodigious alcohol appetite.”
“Well, now,” Hand said, giving Seth a wink, “El Presidente can’t be all horse’s rump, can he?”
The Ambassador was shocked. He hastily looked around the room at its curious patrons. “Damn it, Comfort,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I warn you again to temper your comments. You must realize where we are.”
“I can smell where we are,” Hand retorted.
“You need not concern yourself about us, Mr. Ambassador.” Seth said. “Neither Mr. Comfort nor I have any intention of embarrassing you in front of President Huerta. Do we, Hand?”
Hand studied Seth’s warning expression a moment before answering with a shake of his head, “I reckon not, Pard.”
The Ambassador looked sharply at Seth. He had not expected the curtness of a reply to his rebuke of Hand. He took a deep breath. “Yes, well, we must not keep the President waiting.” He led them into a hallway leading to a private dining room in the back. Their way was quickly barred by two brown-uniformed soldiers with German Mauser rifles.
“Es prohibido!
” the older of the two said fiercely.
The Ambassador smiled disarmingly. “It’s quite alright. I am the American Ambassador and we have an appointment with El Presidente.”
“Es prohibido!” the soldier repeated, raising his rifle menacingly.
The Ambassador looked at Seth, “Mr. Cane, you speak Spanish more fluently than I. Can you explain to this peasant that we are expected by President Huerta?”
“I’ll give it a try,” Seth said, but before he could speak the door to the private dining room opened and a thin-faced man with a black moustache curving down each side of his mouth beneath a hawk nose came out with a hostile stare at the Americans. He was in the uniform of an officer with major’s insignia on his shoulder epaulettes. His brown riding boots were polished to a high luster.
“Que pasa?” he demanded of his soldiers.
“Thank, heavens,” the Ambassador said. “Major Domínguez, you may not remember me. We met once at a presidential reception. I am Henry Lane Wilson, the American Ambassador.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” the officer retorted, looking past the Ambassador at Seth and Hand. “What is the problem here?”
“I have an appointment to see President Huerta.”
The officer continued to stare at Seth and Hand. “Of course, Ambassador, and, these two?”
“Mr. Cane and Mr. Comfort, they are with me.”
“I trust that neither of them is armed?”
“Most assuredly not ,Major!” the Ambassador replied but looked nervously at Hand who shook his head and said, “Heck no. I ain’t packing iron since that Zapatista colonel lifted it off of me.”
“Zapatista colonel?” Major Dominguez exclaimed. “Can you describe this weapon taken by him?”
“It is all in the official reports,” the Ambassador quickly interjected. “Suggest you check with Colonel Sanchez of this district. May we now go in and see the president?”
“You will have to wait, Ambassador. He is now meeting with his cabinet ministers and—”
At that moment the door banged open behind him and they barely had time to press back against the wall to avoid the out rush of seven panic stricken men in business suits who were followed by a fusillade of invective from inside the room.
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