***
“How do I look?” Beatriz asked nervously as Fat Cat turned the car into the palace grounds.
I smiled. “You will be the most beautiful woman there.”
As the car stopped a soldier opened the door. I got out first and helped Beatriz. The long dark gown set off her lush figure to perfection.
I smiled reassuringly as the butler announced us but I felt her hand tighten anxiously as we walked into the drawing room. A silence fell and the people there turned to look at us. They seemed as curious as I about the reception el Presidente would give the daughter of his foremost enemy.
El Presidente was dressed in a simple blue uniform without medals. Only his eyes and his step were young as ever as he crossed the room to us. He took Beatriz’s hand and pressed it to his lips as she curtsied. “You are an even lovelier woman than you were a child,” he said, smiling.
“Thank you, excelencia.”
In the corner of the room a small orchestra began to play. “You are just in time,” el Presidente continued, and with an old-fashioned kind of courtesy he bowed to me. “May I have just this one dance with her?”
I bowed and he led Beatriz to the edge of the dance floor. I watched them move away in a sedate waltz, then turned and walked over to the bar. “A whiskey and soda, please.”
“What’s up, Dax?” I turned and saw George Baldwin standing next to me. “I don’t think I quite believe what I see. The old man dancing with the daughter of his most outspoken enemy?”
I looked at him and shrugged. “His quarrel is with her father, not her.”
“That sounds to me like a quote,” George replied shrewdly.
I lifted my drink. “It is.”
“What’s behind it?”
“I don’t know,” I answered frankly. “Perhaps he wants to indicate that he is not the monster you think him.”
George smiled. “That’s not it. It has to be something more than that. When did he ever give a damn about what people thought about him?”
There was a burst of laughter from the grand staircase and everyone’s eyes turned. Amparo in a white gown stood at the top, swaying slightly and staring down at us. A young soldier, a captain by his uniform, tried to take her arm but angrily she shook him off. The music came to a stop.
“Go on, go on, don’t stop,” she called as she began to descend the staircase uncertainly. “I decided to come to the party after all.”
I looked over at the dance floor and noticed el Presidente glaring up at her with implacable anger. I saw Beatriz, pale and somehow frightened, next to him, and I wanted to go to her. But instead I walked over to the staircase.
“Amparo,” I said, taking her hand to steady her. I bowed and kissed it. “How good to see you again.”
“Dax,” Amparo replied uncertainly. Her eyes were dark, the pupils wide and distended. “Dax.”
The music started up again and I led her onto the dance floor. I held her close so that she would not stumble. Her movements were stiff, awkward, and yet somehow loose and disjointed. She placed her head wearily against my chest and closed her eyes. “Dax,” she whispered, shivering suddenly. “I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be,” I said reassuringly. “You’re safe now.”
“No,” she whispered, “I should not have come. He told me not to.”
“But you are here now and it will be all right. You will see.” The music stopped and I led her off the floor. “Come, let me get you a drink.”
Amparo gripped my arm. “No,” she said, a note of hysteria in her voice, “don’t leave me.”
I followed her eyes. El Presidente was approaching us, Beatriz on his arm, his face impassive.
“Papá.” There was something of the child seeking approval in Amparo’s voice.
El Presidente didn’t speak as he bent forward and kissed Amparo’s cheek.
“I wanted to come, Papá,” she said, still in that little girl’s voice.
Her father looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. He glanced at Beatriz, then at me. “You will excuse us?”
Beatriz nodded and I bowed.
“Come, Amparo,” he said imperiously and, turning his back, began to walk away.
Almost as if she were mesmerized, Amparo started to follow her father. Then, unexpectedly, el Presidente turned back to Beatriz. “I almost forgot to thank you for the pleasure of the dance, señorita.”
Beatriz curtsied.
El Presidente turned away and this time he took Amparo’s arm and led her to a corner of the room. Consciously the guests moved away so that they might speak in privacy. Beatriz looked up at me, her face still pale. “The girl is sick,” she said, a curious sympathy in her voice.
“Yes,” I replied, watching them. But it was more than just being sick. I recognized that particular kind of sickness. I had seen it too often in the eyes of others who wished to escape reality. Amparo was a heroin addict.
Now I understood the dim lighting in her room. It was so that I would not see the needle marks in her arm.
After a quiet talk with Amparo she seemed to calm down, and when el Presidente led us into dinner she was on his arm. He placed her in the hostess’ chair at the foot of the table. The nervousness had left her and after a while Amparo seemed almost her normal self. Her long blond hair and white dress with the sleeves reaching almost to her fingertips only served to accentuate the savage wildness of her beauty.
While we were having our coffee el Presidente got to his feet and cleared his throat. A silence passed down the table and all eyes turned toward him. He smiled benignly down at us.
“I suppose you are all wondering why I have given this dinner when for so long a time I have not entertained.” Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued. “It is to honor a trusted and old friend, the son of an equally close friend and patriot. It gives me pleasure to announce the appointment, effective immediately, of his excellency Señor Diogenes Alejandro Xenos, as foreign minister and representative to the United Nations.”
I felt Beatriz’s hand pressing warmly against my arm as the guests began to applaud. All eyes turned toward me but I remained seated as el Presidente held up his hand.
“That I choose to fill these two most important positions with the same man is an indication of the esteem in which I personally hold him. It is also evidence of the regard in which I hold the United Nations.”
Again there was applause and again el Presidente held up his hand.
“In these troubled times, for Corteguay and for the world, there is no greater need than for us to evidence our sincere desire for peace and unity within our own borders. And to further implement the strength of his position I make this offer now to all who dispute our policy. Complete and total political amnesty, free of all restraints. I invite such opponents to come and participate in a free election to be held within the near future. And to further assure all who doubt this, I hereby divorce myself from the position of Supreme Judge of the Court of Political Action and give such powers over into the hands of his excellency Señor Xenos.”
Again there was applause. I noticed George Baldwin looking down the table at me skeptically from his seat near el Presidente, and I was aware what he was thinking. That I had known about this all along.
El Presidente began again as the applause faded. “I repeat my invitation.” And this time he looked down the long table at me, though somehow I realized the words were intended for Beatriz’s ears alone. “To all who seek to divide our country by speech or with guns, both here or abroad, come forward into the open. Entrust yourselves not to me but to Señor Xenos. Let us all work together as true patriots for a more glorious future for our beloved country.”
He then sat down, and the applause this time was truly deafening. Little by little everyone turned toward me. El Presidente was smiling benignly. He gestured and I got to my feet as an attentive silence spread around the table. I looked down at their faces and somehow I knew that tomorrow whatever I said would be read or
heard all over the world.
I began to speak slowly, choosing my words carefully. “There is very little I can say other than that I am humbled by this honor so unexpectedly and generously given.” There was faint applause but it faded quickly. “There is one thing, however, that I wish to add. You have all been witness to the promise given.”
I paused and looked at everyone at the table. There was a respectful silence as my eyes stopped on el Presidente’s face. It was a mask but his eyes glittered and there was a faint hint of irony in the curve of his lips. I stared at him for a moment before I spoke again.
“I will do everything in my power to see that promise kept.”
I sat down and everyone seemed too surprised to applaud until el Presidente led them. The music began abruptly again in the other room and el Presidente got to his feet. The others rose and we followed him into the drawing room.
George Baldwin caught me at the end of the line of people who had come to congratulate me. We were soon alone and he looked at me with that quizzical look of his. “Does the old man really mean it?”
“You heard him,” I answered noncommittally.
“I heard you,” he said. “You meant what you said.”
I didn’t answer.
“If he didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t give two cents for your life now.”
I just looked at him. I still didn’t speak.
“The old son of a bitch,” George said, a grudging admiration coming into his voice, “he did it again. Until tonight I wouldn’t have given two cents for Corteguay’s chances of getting an American loan. But now, I’m certain that Washington will feel differently about the whole thing.”
7
We were silent in the back seat as Fat Cat drove through the dark streets to Beatriz’s home. I lit a thin cigarro and looked out the window. The houses near the university, where her father had once been a professor, were more prosperous. She still lived in the one where she had been born. It was no mansion but it was set well back from the street and screened by a wooden fence covered with flowers.
When the car stopped I got out. I took Beatriz’s hand. “I’ll see you to the door.”
Beatriz didn’t speak but hurried past me through the gate. I followed her up the steps to the small porch and she turned to face me. I took her hand and bent to kiss her.
She averted her face. “No.”
I looked at her.
Her eyes were an even darker green in the dim light coming through the window behind her. “I cannot see you again,” she said. “It is all turning out as they said it would. You are a trap, for me and my father.”
“They said?” I asked. “Who?”
Beatriz didn’t look at me. “Friends.”
“Friends? Or those who would have you and your father serve their ends?”
“It does not matter,” she said, “I will not discuss politics with you.”
“Good.” I took her by the upper arm and roughly pulled her to me. I could feel her stiffen but she offered no resistance. “I was not attracted to you because of political discussions.”
“Let me go,” she said, her lips scarcely moving.
I kissed her, and for a moment I thought I could feel the warmth rising inside her, but then she spoke again, whispering against my lips. “Let me go, I am not one of your whores.”
I released her. Her eyes were wide and staring. “Your friends have done their job well,” I said bitterly. “They not only dictate your politics, but also your love.”
“My friends have only my best interests at heart,” she replied uncertainly. “Everyone knows about you. They do not wish me to be hurt.”
“Excelencia! Look out!” Fat Cat’s warning shout came from the car behind me.
I whirled, sensing a movement in the bushes at the side of the house, and at the same time flung out my arm, knocking Beatriz violently to the ground beside me. I heard the cough of a silenced gun, then the sound of disappearing footsteps as Fat Cat came running through the gate.
I scrambled to my feet and followed Fat Cat into the bushes. He stopped short and turned to me. “It’s no use, we’ll never find them in the dark.”
I looked out across the field behind the house.
“Lucky for you I happened to warn you.”
I turned. “Yes, thanks. You probably saved my life.”
“It is too bad,” Fat Cat said solemnly, though with the hint of a smile. “They came just when it was beginning to get interesting.”
I stared at him and, turning, went back to Beatriz. She was just beginning to sit up, so I helped her to her feet. Her fine dark gown was a mess. “Are you all right?”
Beatriz nodded. “I—I think so.” She looked at me. “Who were they?”
“Who else could they be?” I asked sarcastically. “Your friends, who, having your best interests at heart, came to kill me. Of course, if by accident you, too, had been hurt, no doubt they would have been terribly sorry.”
Beatriz’s eyes began to fill with tears. “I don’t know what to think.”
The door behind us opened and a woman in a wrapper, no doubt a servant, looked out. “What is it? What has happened?”
“Nothing. I will come in a moment. Go back to bed.”
The door closed and Beatriz turned back to me. “Dax,” she said, her hand reaching for mine.
Suddenly I was angry, and I ignored her hand. “Sorry, I made a mistake. In my world only children do not know what to think. They have to be told. But men and women think for themselves.”
I turned and walked back to the car. Fat Cat was already behind the wheel. “Move over,” I said gruffly, and angrily threw the car into gear. As we turned the corner I heard him chuckling. “What’s so funny, you idiot?”
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
I didn’t speak. Instead I horsed the car into the next turn with an angry screeching of brakes.
“You’re like a child who has had his candy taken away.”
“Shut up!” I shouted.
Fat Cat was silent for a moment, then he spoke more softly, almost to himself. “Yes, but you see she is the one.”
I glanced at Fat Cat out of the corner of my eyes. “What?”
He looked at me, his eyes suddenly serious. “She is the one you will take home to free your hacienda from the ghosts of your family.”
***
The telephone began ringing at seven the next morning. The calls were coming in from all over the world. The newspapers and wire services had not been sleeping. The first one I took was from Jeremy Hadley in New York.
“Dax, do I congratulate you or sympathize with you? What does it mean?”
“Nothing more than what you heard.”
“There’s a rumor going around that el Presidente is preparing to step down and turn the reins over to you.”
“That is not true,” I answered, “nothing has been said about that and nothing will be. El Presidente has merely announced that an election will be held in the near future. He said nothing about his succession.”
“There is also a rumor that Dr. Guayanos is already in Corteguay.”
“I have heard nothing concerning his whereabouts. So far as I know, he is still in exile.”
“There is also talk that you have been seeing a great deal of his daughter and that you were instrumental in arranging a truce between Guayanos and el Presidente.”
I stopped. Rumors. There were times when it seemed as if the world were made up of only two things. People. And rumors. I didn’t know which there were more of.
“I have been seeing his daughter,” I said, “but there have been no political discussions between us.”
“Come on, Dax,” Jeremy said, “you don’t expect me to believe that? How could you avoid politics with the daughter of the leading opponent of your government’s regime?”
“Simple, Jeremy,” I said, “and you of all people should know that. Since when have I needed a reason other than that she is a beautiful woman?”
<
br /> I could hear him chuckle. “I’m beginning to feel better already, you old dog. I was afraid you were beginning to go straight. Good luck.”
I put down the telephone, and it began to ring again almost instantly. It was the assistant manager of the hotel. There was an anxious note in his voice. “The lobby is crowded with newspapermen and photographers, excellency. What shall I tell them?”
I thought for a moment. “Take them all into the dining room and serve them breakfast. Put it on my account. Then tell them I will be down as soon as I have shaved and dressed.”
I put down the phone again but it rang before I could take my hand off it. “Yes?”
“This is Marcel,” a familiar voice said in my ear. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“I know your father would be very proud at this moment.” Marcel’s voice was smooth.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, wondering why Marcel had called. He was not the type to waste time on the courtesies.
“When do you expect to be in New York? There are many important matters we must clarify.”
“I don’t know. El Presidente has not given me a schedule yet.” I was curious what he meant. “Is there something urgent, something that needs immediate attention?”
“No,” Marcel said, his voice hesitating. Then it cleared. “You know that television thing I have here? Do you think it is needed down there?”
Then I realized what he was telling me, that he was aware the lines were tapped. “No,” I answered, “I don’t think so. I’m sure they have something very similar here.”
“I thought so. Well, let me know when you are coming to New York. I will keep myself available for you.”
“I will.”
“And please congratulate el Presidente for me. Assure him of my respect and support.”
I put down the phone and it began to ring again. I got out of the bed, ignoring it, and started for the bathroom just as Fat Cat came in the door.
“Tell them I’ll accept no more calls for the present. Have them take messages.”
Fat Cat nodded and started for the phone. I was almost through the bathroom door when he called to me. “El Presidente.”
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