Shooting Script

by Gavin Lyall

  Ned knocked on the door, opened it, and we marched in.

  It was a wide room – and dark, except for pools of light-around a jumble of radio and telephone equipment in one corner and a big desk in the centre. Then I saw the steel shutters over the windows on two sides; the General wasn’t taking any chances with stray snipers.

  There were two men at the radio, three at the desk. Boscowas behind it, an officer with a telephone at each end. One of them was Capitán Miranda.

  Boscosaid: ‘Make your report, Coronel.’

  Ned took a breath and started. All aircraft had been serviceable, fuelled, and armed, by four o’clock. At five he’d got a call to clear an ambush on the road, started taxiing a couple of minutes later. He hadn’t seen me make my scouting pass, hadn’t heard me because of his own engine noise. The tower had warned him by radio in time to watch my bomb run…

  Boscolistened silently, his meaty near-handsome face expressionless. He was dressed very simply: khaki drill trousers and a shaped shirt of the sort American sergeants go for, fitting as tight as a tee-shirt; black tie tucked in below the second shirt button, webbing belt and holster. But all very clean and crisp; knifeedged creases on the shirt arms, medal ribbons in exact parade rows. The perfect soldier: tough but tidy, efficient but elegant. Just what you’d want your new dictator to be.

  I almost felt sorry I’d wrecked the background to the picture.

  Ned wound up: he’d spent an hour examining the Vamps, giving orders about repair. They were working flat out on the two least damaged, cannibalising parts from the total wrecks -but both had brick holes in fuselage and wings, which had to be patched, not replaced. One might fly tomorrow evening. Might.

  Boscoswivelled his eyes at me. ‘Nowyour report, Señor Carr.’

  I shrugged, but there didn’t seem to be any secrets to be kept. I’d dropped around 360 bricks from four fishing nets, attached to shackles…

  When I’d finished, he said: ‘It was Señor Whitmore’sairplane?’

  I shook my head. ‘Mine. I’d taken it as payment for the film work, and because he felt a little guilty about my losing the Dove. You remember that?’

  Just a quick flick of a smile under the neat moustache. ‘I remember. Also I remember telling you to stay away from the República.‘Then he shrugged…‘I am sorry you did not accept our offer to work for us: you were clearly not overrated. Now-‘

  He looked back at Ned. ‘Coronel, you are reduced toteniente. Capitán Miranda will take command of what you have left of the squadron. You will go back and work on the aeroplanes and if the Capitánneeds you, you will fly one of them when it is ready.’

  Even in the dim edge of the desk pool of light, Ned seemed pale. ‘I was hired at a rate and a rank. I quit.’

  ‘You are in a military service, Teniente,‘Boscosaid calmly. ‘One does not resign in a war. When it is over, we will consider.’

  I glanced at Miranda. He was leaning back in his chair, looking at Ned with a satisfied, thoughtful smile.

  Boscohad been studying Luiz and me carefully. Finally he said: ‘I think you forgot something in your report, Señor. Clearly, you had decided when your mission was finished that you would land and enter the city to discover its results. Therefore, you are spies. You will be shot.’

  I hadn’t exactly expectednot to be shot, but I didn’t understand this ‘spy’ business. ‘If you think Iintended to hang around here afterwards-‘

  ‘Señor?‘He smiled. ‘So why are you wearing those clothes? I believe one flies a military operation in military uniform -no? You make things easier for me.’ He turned to the officer. ‘Make sure photographs are taken – to prove they were in civilian clothes.’

  ‘Presidente,’ Luizsaid quietly, ‘may I be permitted to point out your mistake?’

  That you are Luiz Monterrey, the great famous film star, the American citizen? No-‘ he tossed the thought aside with an elegant flick of his hand. ‘Since we met last time, I havehad you investigated. I know now why you are so interested in Señor Jiminez – I know you were born here. That is not something you have much publicised; your American newspapermen will be as much interested in that as that you are dead. And thenorteamericanosall know we… dagoes are fanatics about our homelands. They will understand.’ And when he smiled this time, it was like the slow opening of a knife cut.

  ‘No,Presidente’- Luiz waved a hand just as elegant -1 just wish to point out that publicising our fate – and there are those in Jamaica who will know we have not returned, so the publicity is not entirely in your hands – will mean publicising our success. Did youplan to announce that General Bosco’s teeth have all been pulled?’

  There was a long time with just the hum and distant gabble from the bank of radio equipment in the corner. A phone buzzed; Miranda picked it up, listened, put it down again.

  Then the General said: ‘Jiminez must know already.’

  Luiz made the slightest of slight bows. ‘I think so. He knew we were coming, he knows there have been no jets overhead today, and it has been light enough for’ – he consulted his watch – ‘for two hours now.’

  ‘So?‘Boscosnapped.

  ‘But General Castillo -he does not know his tanks and guns are in no danger; he does not know the Army could walk into the city as soon as it could get here. Not yet, anyway.’

  After a moment, Boscolifted both hands in a brief shrug. ‘And so? How do you propose to tell Castillo? Or stop him knowing?’

  ‘I know nothing of Castillo – except that he will be trying very hard to find what is happening in the city. If an execution happens, can you be sure he will not know?’

  Boscoeyed him, then smiled thinly. ‘I could arrange a mostquiet execution.’

  ‘Señor Presidente,’ Luizshook his bfad sadly and patiently as if Boscowere a particularly dim pupil, ‘to execute me as a spy is one affair. Murder me quietly in an hotel bedroom and whatnorteamericanoreporter is even going toask if I were guilty of anything?’

  Boscoglared silently. Then one of the men at the radiocalled something and turned the radio full blast. We caught a roar of tape-recorded trumpets, a click, an amateurish heavy breath – and a sonorous shout:’

  ‘Viva el liberador-Jiminez!’

  Miranda and Boscowere both shouting. The radio got turned down hastily. Luiz said softly, ‘He has captured the radio station, finally.’

  Miranda and the other officer snatched up phones and started yelling. Boscojust looked at me. ‘With the jets, we would have held it.’ Then he cocked an ear to the muttering radio. ‘Jiminez will speak in five minutes.’

  I felt Luiz stiffen beside me. It needed just one sentence from Jiminez; if he couldn’t resist announcing that the Air Force was crippled, if he forgot it would be an open invitation to the listening Army to walk back in…

  Boscosaid drily: ‘It would seem your lives are not in my hands any more, Señores.‘He started raiding out orders to Miranda and the other officer; both grabbed their phones and passed them on. Then Boscoseemed to think of something else, called a question to the man at the switchboard and lifted his own phone. ‘It seems the line to the radio station is not yet cut.’ He held the phone out to Luiz. ‘Perhaps you would care to discuss with your old friend.’

  Luiz reached for it, reluctantly…’! will remind him that it is – damaging to his cause. That is all. And he will decide.’

  ‘Of course. I shall not blame you; I shall only shoot you.’

  Luiz smiled crookedly and put the phone to his face. ‘Señor Jiminez, con permiso… qué?… Ah, sf -he looked at Boscoand twitched a quick grin -‘Presidente Jiminez… Luiz Monterrey…’

  Miranda was starting to say something, but Boscowaved him down. Then Luiz must have got to Jiminez, because his Spanish went into top gear and I was left behind. I just picked out the word’Americana’.

  Finally he handed the phone back to Bosco, and turned to me. ‘It will not be mentioned – this time. Later, or if he hears we are dead…’ he shrugged.

&nb
sp; Boscosaid: ‘You told him where you are. Did you hope he would lead a gallant rescue party? I much hope so myself.’ He banged both hands flat on the desk. ‘So – we wait. I am sorrywe cannot offer you rooms in the Hall of Justice, but your friends blew down one of its walls in order to do some recruiting there.’

  Luiz nodded approvingly: busting into the town jail to free your pals would be the proper opening gambit of any revolution.

  Boscolooked around and saw Ned, still standing there,Ïsilent and sullen.‘Temente-take them to your room and I guard them properly.’ I Ned said: ‘Thought I was supposed to be repairing Vamps.’ ‘That can wait. You may-‘ Miranda leaned across and said somediing quietly. Boscolistened, nodded, looked up at -me.‘Capitán Miranda reminds me of an unfinishedconversation the last time you met.’ [I knew what was coming, now. Miranda stood up, quick and smooth, and stalked around the desk, his eyes on my face.

  There was nothing to do but wait for him..

  He stopped in front of me, studying me with a small, ihungry smile. Then suddenly his left shoulder dropped as fora ¡stomach punch; as my hands came up to guard it, he lashed out with his right. I rolled with it, but not enough, not nearly enough. He’d aimed at my bruised jaw and I went down withÌpain screaming through my head.

  As I climbed slowly on to my feet, Boscosaid calmly:‘That is all. You may go.’ I dabbed an already bloody handkerchief at the fresh blood on my lips. ‘General,’ I said thickly, ‘don’t ever wonder why people like me turn up on the other side to people like you.’

  He watched us file out with a still, calm, expression.

  THIRTY

  I was sitting in a deep square Scandinavian chair in Ned’s room. Half an hour of cold water on the outside, and neat Scotch on the inside, had got my face back into limited conversational use.

  ‘Just what’s Bosco waiting for now?’ I asked Luiz. He was sitting at the card table, where he could keep watch out of the window, absently dealing himself a series of poker hands. Ned was sitting and brooding, a glass of beer in his hand, in another deep chair. The guard was leaning beside the door.

  And still the occasional distant crackle of shots from the old town.

  Luiz shrugged and scooped up the cards. ‘For the reaction from the Army officers. If they shout Viva Boscoheinvites them to bring their tanks to join the fight for liberty, the fatherland, and a Swiss bank account for all above the rank of major. Once they are committed to him, they cannot go back to Castillo, so the news that his jets are all kaput does not matter.’ He shuffled with a quick snap of his long fingers. ‘On the other hand, if they cry Viva Castillo he says keep your distance or my jets will blast you to pieces, and goes on fighting with Jiminez alone.’ He glanced at Ned. ‘Always keeping the road to the air base open and a transport aeroplane warmed up and his bank-book packed.’

  Ned just grunted.

  I swilled more Scotch around inside my cheek and asked: ‘How does Jiminez getting the radio station affect this?’

  Luiz stretched a hand and rocked it delicately. ‘How you like. It convinces some that the situation is as serious as Boscoclaims, others that Boscohas failed already.’ He smiled suddenly. “That is my guess.’

  I looked casually round at the guard: he was the same one as before, still staring vacantly across the room, with both his brain cells obviously resting hard.

  I said to Ned: ‘So where’s the Dove, Teniente’?’

  He raisedhis head slowly and his face was hard. ‘Don’t you worry, matey. I won’t betenientelong; just as soon as we got something serviceable – Miranda couldn’t lead a cat to catmint.’

  ‘He belongs here,’ Luiz said quietly.

  Ned turned. ‘What does that mean?’

  Luiz started dealing. ‘I believe your reputation reaches from Korea to the Congo; you could find a new flying job anywhere. But I think you would agree that Capitán Miranda’s reputation is – perhaps a little limited?’

  ‘Nobody’s heard of him,’ Ned growled. ‘And anybody who has, wouldn’t hire him to wipe his own nose.’

  ‘Exactly. So we might assume that his future depends on die one man whohas hired him: General Bosco. And they both know it, and both know the other knows it. That is what is called, in some circles, loyalty.’ He paused widi a card frozen in his hand, looking at Ned. ‘You made a bad mistake up there, my friend. You said, “I quit.” One does not say that to dictators; above all things they prize loyalty. They hire the best men at the highest prices – and then dream that such men truly believe in diem and love diem and diat when the power and money are gone, those men will still bediereto bleed and die and hold back die fall of night.’

  He turned the card in his hand, scowled at it and snorted: ‘Sonofabitch! I never learn not to draw to an inside straight.’

  I said: ‘So how about diat Dove, Ned? Or are you waiting until you’re chopped down to corporal?’

  He drained his glass and walked slowly across and looked down at me. ‘Or perhaps I’m waiting until I forget who got me cut down – had you diought of diat? Keidi – if I tiiought you’d done it for money, I might let you go. If I thought you was a God-and-Liberty patriot for Jiminez -dienmaybe I’d let you go. But 7 know you don’t believe in Jiminez any more’n in Fadier Christmas. You did it just as a private war against me – because you’re die great bloody Keith Carr. All right. But you never stopped to diink how diat’d makeme feel. Keidi – I’m going toenjoy watching you shot.’

  He jerked die refrigerator angrily and snatched out a botde.

  I said wearily: ‘You’re right in a way, Ned – but it wasn’tanything personal against your career.’

  ‘God help me when you have a crack at me career, then.’

  I got up and walked to the window and stared out across the city. Far off, down by the docks along the river in the old town, a column of thick black smoke crawled sluggishly up the quiet ‘sky. And nearer, but to the north, a haze of whitish smoke – perhaps over the radio station. But that was all. From up here, in the cool hushed hotel suite, you couldn’t see much but the tops of the royal palms along the drive, the top storeys of the houses down the broadavenidas.

  About the view you’d get from a jet on its firing pass. From here – or there – you wouldn’t see anybody move: wouldn’t see anybody die.

  ‘People like us, Ned,’ I said. ‘We’re damn useful in the Battle of Britain or Mig Alley or something… But between wars, they ought to lock us up in cages. We’ve no damn business in places like this, times like this. That’s why I took you out. In the end, there was another reason – but that was the real one. Pros like us don’t belong here.’

  ‘It’s myjob, matey.’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t have to like your job, Ned.’

  He sneered. ‘You’ve got bloody righteous since you started flying charter.’

  I shrugged. ‘Or since I stopped knocking down towns.’

  ‘We weren’t going to take out the town-‘

  ‘Weren’t you?’ I jerked around. ‘Weren’t you? You were damn well going to do what the man upstairs told you. If he’d said knock down the old town, you’d have knocked it down. That’s your job.’

  We stared at each other.

  There was a soft tap on the door.

  Ned swung round, patted the revolver in his shoulder-harness, then nodded. The guard swung open the door, clamped his hand quickly back on the submachine gun.

  An urgent, pleading female voice muttered fast Spanish and sounded familiar. I glanced at Luiz; he was frozen in his chair.

  Then the guard stepped forward, out of sight. There was athud – and Whitmore walked in, carrying the limp guard in one hand.

  Ned grabbed for his gun. Whitmore’s free hand made one flickering movement and was pointing a big automatic at Ned’s middle.

  Thirty years I’ve played this scene,’ he drawled, ‘and you don’t think I’ve learned ityet?

  Luiz said: ‘What the hell kept you?’

  J.B., with the guard’s submachine gun,
came in and closed the door. Whitmore took Ned’s revolver, waved him back into a chair, then saw the glass of beer.

  He finished it in one gulp. ‘You realise I been awake since damn near midnight? – when they blew in the Hall of Justice. Just up the road from us.’ He turned to Luiz. ‘What for Chrissake d’you mean, what kept us? Only three-quarters of an hour since you told Jiminez where you was. Took us all that time to borrow a bunch of luggage and get a cab and make like we were tourists rushing for the best hotel in time of crisis.’

  For once, he was fairly smartly dressed: light fawn trousers, a darker fawn jacket, white shirt, evena de. Clearly anorteamericanoand if you didn’t recognise him he might well have been a stranded tourist.

  ‘Anyhow,’ he added, ‘you don’t think we came to rescueyou, huh? We just figured Carr might be running out of your cigarettes.’ He lifted his left hand, found die guard was still dangling from it, and tossed him on die sofa. Then took out a pack of cigarettes and threw them at me.

  J.B. came forward and dumped die machine gun on top of the refrigerator. She was wearing a slim white skirt and a blue-and-green impressionist jungle of a blouse. She lifted a hand: ‘Hi, Keith.’

  I waved dazedly back. I was just beginning to catch up on Luiz’s plotting.

  Then she saw the dark bruise on my chin. ‘Did that happen when you crashed?’

  ‘No. Just a couple of short conversations widi die Air Force.’

  She spun round on Ned. ‘Where’s a first-aid box?’

  He shrugged. ‘He doesn’t need one. It’ll get better with time. If he has any time.’ Then somediing clicked and he satup straight. ‘Christ -she was why… you knewshe was here. You didn’t want to leave a single Vamp alive and shooting.’ He leant back in his chair. ‘I never thought I’d seeyou take a risk for anybody else, Keith.’

  J.B. was looking puzzled. ‘What’s this all about?’ Luiz said sadly: ‘In order to stopthélast jet taking off, we had to collide with it. Carr was most brave. He totally forgot I was also on board.’

  Whitmore whistled softly. ‘So that’s how come you lost the ship, huh? Well, we can get another.’