by Lou Cameron
“Oui, but this certainly is not the way I would have chosen to slip into Puntarenas without attracting notice, Dick.”
*
They were noticed indeed, but not arrested, when Captain Gringo drove into the yard of the next stage stop. As he’d foreseen, they were held up a good two hours while the local alcalde sent for the guard and the coach company sent a buckboard back up the trail for the bodies.
The dead driver and his shotgun rider were laid out in the stable of the local coroner and carpenter by the time a corporal’s squad of mounted guardsmen rode in. The young noncom in command looked intelligent, God damn him. He told the travelers to wait in the cantina while he had a look at the dead men. He took his own sweet time. When he rejoined them, he asked to see their weapons.
. The two soldiers of fortune had no choice but to hand over their pistols. The corporal had noticed they were Anglos, or assumed they were, and spoke English to be courteous as he handed their guns back with a smile, saying, “Forgive my curiosity, señores. While I never doubted your story for a moment, I had to make sure. The stagecoach crew were shot with rifles. You Caballeros are only armed with pistols. The matter is settled to my satisfaction. As soon as a fresh team and the new crew is ready to proceed, my men and I will make sure you get down out of these rough hills unmolested. We can only escort you as far as Orobina. But from there to Puntarenas our country is well settled by much nicer people, so you should have no further trouble.”
Captain Gringo invited him and his troopers to join them for some cerveza. He didn’t have to twist any arms. So by the time the coach was ready to go on, they were all pals. But Captain Gringo stayed awake, anyway, as he once more rode below with the others. The unexpected excitement had given him his second wind. He knew his muscles were going to ache for the next few days, whether he got any sleep or not. But he could keep his eyes open now.
He kept his ears open, too, as he listened to the two women chat on as if nothing had happened. The nice old lady had apparently been on the bottom with Claudette shielding her during the gun battle back there. If she’d wondered, or even noticed, that Gaston had started out with a carbine and wound up with a pistol, she didn’t drop so much as a veiled hint about it. He was braced for her to mention a relative who needed an operation. But the sweet old thing just didn’t seem to know she was in position to shake them down.
He told himself he was getting mighty suspicious in his old age. On the other hand, he’d been double-crossed more than once by even nicer-looking people. If he wanted to get old, he knew he had to suspect even sweet old ladies.
Gaston’s mind, being even older, seemed to be running in the same channels as he sat facing Captain Gringo, wearing a slight frosty smile. In English, he said casually, “When one was there, one would see no reason to wonder if one of us went mad and shot the crew, non?”
“Knock it off. I’ve already doped that out. And it’s not polite to speak English in front of a lady I hope only speaks Spanish.”
“I checked that out, too,” said Gaston, switching back to Spanish to add, “It seems to be getting warmer as we drop to a lower altitude, don’t you agree?”
It wasn’t getting warmer. It was starting to get hot as hell. At least they were making up for lost time. The new crew, no doubt uneasy about bandits even with an escort, took advantage of the downhill grade and fresh mules. But it still took a hell of a long time to get to the end of the line. The corporal and his men turned back to ride back up into the cooler hills, once they were passing bananas, peppers, and other hothouse plants on either side. By the time they reached Puntarenas they all looked and felt like they’d spent half the day in a Turkish steam bath. But they finally made it, late that afternoon. Better yet, nobody seemed at all interested as they stiffly climbed down from the coach, said adios to the crew and old lady, and headed for a no-questions hotel Gaston naturally knew about.
Like most hotels of the time and place, this one had the coeducational bathroom down at the end of the hall. Since women and children went first, Claudette staggered down to wash and cool her flushed flesh, thus leaving the two soldiers of fortune alone for the moment.
Captain Gringo muttered, “Jesus, what a dump,” as he started to take off his jacket.
Gaston said, “Don’t undress. We’ll never have a better opportunity to, how you say, ditch that blonde, hein?”
Captain Gringo stared dully at him and said, “I’m too pooped to run anymore in this heat, Gaston. Besides, I’m curious. We have to scout the waterfront in any case. Why not tag along to her meeting at the waterfront cantina and see what happens?”
Gaston rolled his eyes heavenward and replied, “Why not just put your .38 to your thick skull and pull the trigger? I only brought us here because I did not wish her to know about the much nicer place we can hide out until I can arrange passage out of here, Dick. We know why she is going to meet someone down on the docks later this evening. She is a spy. They are spies. Spies make me trés nervous, even when they are not Germans. German spies are even worse. I think it must be all that sour food they eat that gives them such acid dispositions, non?”
Captain Gringo took off his jacket and sat on the bed. Gaston asked, “Have you wax in your ears? Merde alors, let’s get out of here! What are you waiting for?”
Captain Gringo said, “I’m thinking. You said there was a fifty-fifty chance we could hop a freighter out of here without getting nailed, right?”
“Oui, if we start searching for safe passage soon.”
“That’s what I thought you said. That means there’s a fifty-fifty chance we won’t make it! Those are piss-poor odds when you consider the table stakes, Gaston!”
“True. But it seems to be the only game in town, non?”
“That’s what I’m thinking about. Claudette’s some kind of secret agent. But so far she seems to be on our side. She has contacts here and money waiting for her back in San José. I think she likes me. She sure swings a mean carpetbag when guys sit on my head.”
Gaston snorted in disgust and said, “She was saving herself as well. The woman is an adventuress who works for the highest bidder. Why should she share her payoff with us, and even if she likes you that much, how could we possibly go back to San José with her to get it now?” Captain Gringo shook his head stubbornly and said, “I can’t think of a place those embassy guys would expect to see me least. By now they must know all three of us are no longer to be found up in San José. Ergo, that’s the last place they’ll expect to see us. We could hide out with your pals in the Barrio Viejo till the heat died down. Then, with the payoff old Claudette promised, we could walk, not run, for the nearest exit that no damned bounty hunter is watching.”
Gaston started to object. Then he sighed and said, “Far be it from me to discuss doubling back on one’s trail with a fellow fox. It is so risky-sounding it may just work, with one big if. At the moment, m’mselle If is taking a bath down the hall, hein?”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “I’ve considered all the ways she could be plotting to double-cross us. She’s a spy, not a bounty huntress. The accumulated rewards outstanding on the two of us add up to more than the people she’s working for will pay her for delivering her emeralds, secret plans, or whatever. But she would have turned us in by now if that had been her game. She spotted me before I spotted her, remember?”
Claudette came back in, wearing just a towel. Gaston nodded politely and said, “Ah; we were just talking about you, m’mselle.”
Claudette threw herself face down across the bed and said, “It didn’t work. I’m too exhausted to think straight. If either of you mean to fuck me, please don’t wake me up before sundown.”
The two soldiers of fortune looked at each other and laughed. Gaston said, “Eh bein, I will flip you to see who goes to take a bath and who stays here, hein?”
Captain Gringo said, “We’re both going to leave her alone in here, for now. We booked adjoining rooms, if you want to call these rooms. Come on.
You can hit the tub. I’ll lock her in and stand guard next door.”
Gaston muttered, “Spoil sport!” but allowed himself to be ushered out to the hall as Captain Gringo locked the door.
Gaston said, “You go ahead and bathe. You look red as a lobster and I do not think it’s maidenly modesty. You may be suffering heat stroke, Dick. I’m serious. I know the signs. Go soak yourself in cool water until your skin looks human again. Never fear for your place in line, my suspicious youth. I know when a woman means it and when she is only showing off.”
Captain Gringo didn’t argue. He really did feel lousy. As he headed for the bath at the end of the hall, the floor rolled under him like the deck of a ship at sea. He felt like he had to throw up, too. But he didn’t. He put his head down against his knees while the tub filled, and that helped. The cool soak helped even more. He felt so much better by the time he climbed out that he knew Gaston had been right and he’d just had a brush with the real thing. He’d thought he was too inured to the tropics by now to suffer heat stroke like a greenhorn. But coming down from the highlands so suddenly after beating himself up with more sex than any man really needed had apparently lowered his resistance.
He relieved Gaston. He sat on the bed in the empty room with the hall door open while the Frenchman cooled his own flesh. By the time Gaston got back, Captain Gringo felt like he needed another bath. He said, “Jesus, I’m sweating like a pig. How hot do you think it is outside right now?”
“Don’t ask. It’s hot enough in here! It will soon begin to cool off. But you had better take a nap, Dick. I can stand guard over you children. I was not dumb enough to clamber over thundering stagecoaches after street fights and astounding orgies, hein?”
Captain Gringo flopped on the bed, still dressed, and said, “When you’re right you’re right. But who said I had any astounding orgies?”
“You did, when you didn’t even notice her derriere as she exposed it falling down in the next room. No man born of mortal woman fails to blink at a derriere like that unless he’s had so much of it he can’t take another bite. Besides, I left Maria waiting for you last night at our hotel, and I did not hear her screaming, as she would have, if you hadn’t taken time to comfort her before you left.”
Captain Gringo chuckled as he closed his eyes and muttered, “Old Maria told me she’s married. Ain’t that a pisser?”
“Oui. But I can’t say I find it surprising. You went with her nearly a month, you know. I’ve never met a woman who fails to insist on marriage within a month, unless she has some greater treachery in mind for her victim.”
*
Sleeping alone, for however short a time, did wonders for both Captain Gringo and Claudette. They were both able to walk without staggering as all three of them went over to the waterfront at sundown. They ordered food as well as drinks at the sidewalk cantina facing the quay. Claudette had said that the owner of the joint was a contact, but nobody, there acted like they’d ever seen her before. Apparently Der Kaiser paid well.
As they lounged under the awning, watching the harbor, the red sunset etched the boats out on the water in black outlines. Captain Gringo saw one was a squat gunboat, but he couldn’t make out its colors against the sunset. He commented on the fact that someone was being diplomatic to Costa Rica, too. But Claudette said, “The vessel we have to worry about is one of those four schooners. I don’t see anyone lowering a longboat. Do you?”
Captain Gringo squinted and said, “No. It’s early yet. The light’s shining on us from where they sit out there on the water. If anyone’s expecting you, they’ve spotted you by now.”
He ate some more tacos con refritos. They tasted awful. His cerveza tasted lousy too. But he didn’t blame the cook inside. He knew he was still sick.
Gaston was questioning Claudette again, about their payoff back up in San José. Captain Gringo wished he’d shut up. That part of the deal was not the problem. The problem was picking up whatever, here, and seeing that Claudette got safely with it to the French syndicate she said She was working for, the German embassy Carson had said she was working for, or whoever the hell she was working for. Going back by stage was too obvious. Walking was too fatiguing. He felt too lousy to think about it right now. They’d worry about it later, after a good night’s sleep.
Gaston said, “Regardez! A boat is coming in. It seems to be a power launch.”
Captain Gringo squinted out across the harbor, and, sure enough, a low steam launch had popped out from somewhere and was moving their way under its little smoke plume. He could make out figures under the full-length canopy running from stem to stern, but he couldn’t count how many there were.
Someone aboard the launch struck a match or blinked a flashlight on and off. Claudette said, “That’s our signal,” and got to her feet.
Gaston muttered, “What does she mean, our signal?” But when Captain Gringo rose to follow her, Gaston got up too.
The three walked to the edge of the quay as the steam launch nudged its tendered bow against the sea wall. A man called out, “M’mselle Pardeau?” and Claudette called back, “Oui. Do you have my package?”
A couple of seamen leaped ashore with a painter to steady the launch as the man under the awning replied, “Not here. Out on the vessel. Get aboard, all three of you, quickly. Before we’re noticed.”
Claudette moved forward. But Captain Gringo grabbed her arm and said, “Hold it, kiddies! My mama once told me never to do things the complicated way when the best way looks simple!”
Claudette said, “It’s all right, Dick. I know them.”
He said, “But I don’t. How come you want us to pick up out there, when you could have just brought it in with you?”
He never heard or saw the signal. But there must have been one, because one of the seamen who’d jumped up on the quay with them suddenly rabbit-punched Captain Gringo from behind and sent him sprawling forward into the bow of the launch.
He landed on his side, dazed, but still able to draw as he gasped, “Gaston! It’s a trap!” then fired up into the men above him, double-action, until his hammer was clicking in frustration as they all seemed intent on kicking him at once. He tried to rise as he heard Gaston’s gun go off.
Then Gaston landed on top of him, out like a light with a nasty bump over the left ear. It broke Gaston’s fall to land atop Captain Gringo. But it didn’t make Captain Gringo feel any better. Somebody flattened him on his back with a boot planted in the center of his chest, and as he stared up into the muzzle of a twelve-gauge riot gun, a voice he’d heard before said in English, “Okay, cut the bullshit, Walker. This gun happens to be loaded! We want you alive. But don’t push your luck, renegade!”
Captain Gringo could only curse as they hauled him to a seated position and cuffed his hands behind him while Gaston lay unconscious across his legs. He spotted Claudette wistfully looking down at him from the quay above and yelled, “You bitch! I trusted you!”
She said, “A girl has to live, dear.” Then she waved bye-bye with her hankie as the steam launch backed off to take him and Gaston out to the gunboat moored offshore.
As they approached an angle that let him see her colors better, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the Stars and Stripes. He looked up at the man with the shotgun and growled, “Nice going, Carson. I take it you’re not with the State Department after all?”
Carson smiled down thinly at him as another seaman knelt to cuff the unconscious Gaston. Carson said, “U.S. Navy Intelligence, doing a favor for War. It’s the least we could do after you suckered our marines in Venezuela that time.”
Gaston groaned and tried to sit up, asking where he was. Captain Gringo said, “You’re on my lap, wearing cuffs behind you. We seem to be guests of the U.S. Navy.” Gaston rolled off, managed to sit up, and blinked around owlishly as he took in his new surroundings. He said, “Merde alors, I knew they had ironclad gunboats, but ironclad sailors, too?”
Captain Gringo said, “I heard you shooting, pard. You can than
k sweet Claudette for those sneaky bullets. How did those blanks work, Carson? Lead foil over wadding?”
Carson smiled smugly and said, “You’re learning. Navy Ordinance can make anything. The Winchesters we provided were loaded with harmless ammo, too.”
“I figured as much. It was pretty shitty of you to blow away those poor Costa Ricans just to get us to expend all our real ammo, Carson. I don’t suppose you’d want to have me mention that at my trial back in the States, huh?”
“What trial?” Carson gloated, adding, “You already had your trial, Walker. You were sentenced to hang before you escaped from that army guardhouse. We’re just taking you back and turning you over to the army so they can carry out the sentence!”
“That sounds reasonable. But what about my buddy here? He’s never stood trial in the States, yet.”
“Don’t worry about it, Walker. Mon-sewer Verrier has sure been tried in absentia in Mexico. We’ll be dropping him off at Mazatlán when we put in there on a goodwill mission.”
“You prick! You smug fucking chicken shit! You killed two innocent guys just so you could say you took us alive, right?”
“Those were my orders, Walker. I don’t suppose a renegade like you would understand that orders are meant to be carried out to the letter.”
Captain Gringo watched the oncoming stem of the gunboat as he shook his head and said, “When you’re right, you’re right. I’ve never understood pricks like you and I hope I never will. Sure, I can see a guy doing his job. But the wants on us are dead or alive. You went to all that trouble, razzle-dazzle and murder, just to take us alive so some other pricks can hang us?”
“That’s right, Walker. And I’m pleased as punch everything went so well. Don’t try to understand me, Walker. You won’t live long enough to figure all the moves I made.”