The Adventurers (87 page)

I threw the rifle back at the soldier. "Open the other cases."

I turned back to the captain. "You have bills of lading for these?"

"Of course. They are part of a consignment for our next port of call."

"I see. May I see them?"

For the first time the captain's expression changed slightly. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at the customs inspector who was standing silently next to him. "I do not have them."

"Then who does, Captain?"

He did not answer.

"Come, Captain," I said, "someone must have them."

He seemed to answer with difficulty. "I think they may have been included with other bills by mistake."

"You mean that customs has the bills?"

He nodded reluctantly.

I turned to the customs inspector. "Have you seen them?"

The man's eyes were frightened. "No, excellency," he stammered. "We are not permitted to see such bills. They are processed by the chief inspector himself."

I turned to Giraldo. "Leave half your men here. Bring the rest and come with me."

"Si, excelencia!" For the first time I noted a growing respect in the young lieutenant's eyes. It had not been there at six this morning when I strode into his barracks. He had protested that he had no authority to embark on such a raid, and that his only duty was to protect me.

"Then your duty is clear," I said, "you must accompany me for my own protection."

He had stared at me for a moment. "I will have to take it up with my superiors."

"Lieutenant, you will clear it with no one!" I had allowed my voice to grow sarcastic. "Your instructions are very explicit. How will it look if I tell el Presidente that you have already breached them? That I have just returned from two days in the mountains while you were lolling around your barracks?"

Giraldo had thought for a moment, but it did not take him long to decide which was the lesser of two evils. Even if his decision was wrong in accompanying me, at least it would not cost him his commission. If they ever found out I had been alone in the mountains he'd be lucky if all el Presidente did was strip him of his commission.

He had turned his men out and they piled into two jeeps and followed my car to the port. The ship was already secured to the pier. I stood there in the gray light of the morning and looked up at the foremast, where the ruby and green insignia of the Campion Lines flew. It would have to be one of his ships, I thought, as we began to climb the gangplank.

Now that we had found the guns, I could tell by his manner that Giraldo felt differently. All hesitancy was gone as he issued his orders. I turned to the captain and the customs inspector. "Will you both please come to the chief inspector's office with me?"

Without waiting for an answer, I climbed up the steel ladder to the open deck. After the stench of the hold the warm sweet sea air smelled good. I took a deep breath.

Fat Cat came hurrying down the deck. "El Presidente has just arrived!"

I stared at him. "Here?"

"Si. On the docks. He is waiting for you."

I didn't speak. I didn't have to. Fat Cat knew what I was thinking. I could not make a move anywhere in the city that el Presidente didn't know about.

I followed Fat Cat to the edge of the gangplank and looked down. El Presidente was standing beside his big black limousine surrounded by soldiers. He looked up and saw me and waved. I returned the greeting and came down the gangplank. The soldiers parted to let me through.

"What did you find?"

I stared at el Presidente for a moment before I answered. "What I expected to find. Guns. Communist guns. The same kind you captured from the bandoleros in the mountains."

El Presidente looked at me for a moment, then turned away. "Hoyos!"

The policeman came quickly from behind the car. It was the first time I had ever seen him in uniform. The gold crescent of a colonel of the army shone on his shoulders. "Si, excelencia!"

"Put a squad of men aboard the ship to take possession of the guns, Colonel."

"That won't be necessary, sir," I said quickly, "Lieutenant Giraldo's men are already guarding them."

"You have Giraldo with you? Good."

"I am on my way to the chief inspector's office. I have been told the bills of lading are there."

"I will go with you," el Presidente said grimly. "My cousin, it seems, has a great deal to explain."

The ship's captain and the customs inspector moved on ahead as we walked down the dock to the building that housed customs. El President's voice was low as he took my arm confidentially. "How did you learn about the guns? From the girl?"

"No, from Martinez, the old farmer who lives near my hacienda. The bandoleros tortured him and left him for dead because he was my friend. He heard them talking." The lie was an apt one. They would have to dig him up to disprove it and they wouldn't bother.

"Martinez? You mean the animal man?"

I stared at el Presidente. Sometimes there was no end to the surprises he furnished me. It was at least thirty years since he had seen Martinez and yet he recalled him immediately. "Yes."

"I had no idea he was still alive," el Presidente said thoughtfully. "We used to get chickens from him. He must be a very old man by now."

We were at the door of the customs shed and Hoyos sprang forward to open it, then stepped aside to allow el Presidente and myself to enter. The two clerks seated at their desks looked up, startled.

"Is my cousin in?"

"I—I don't know," one of them answered nervously, half rising. "I will see, excellency."

"I will see for myself!"

The clerk sank back into his seat as el Presidente pushed past him into the private office. Through the open door I could see the chief inspector jump up from behind his desk and stand at attention.

"There are guns on that ship out there!" el Presidente roared.

The chief inspector's face was suddenly white. "Excellency, I did not know, believe me."

"Liar! Traitor! The bills of lading are here in your office, get them for me!" El Presidente strode toward the desk, his hand outstretched imperiously.

I walked into the office, with Hoyos at my shoulder, just as the chief inspector frantically pulled open a desk drawer. It stuck for a moment, then came open, and he reached in with his hand. There was a glint of metal, and a gun went off almost in my ear. The force of the bullet propelled the chief inspector back against the wall. He hung there for a moment, the surprise in his eyes abruptly fading to nothingness as he crumpled awkwardly to the floor.

I turned to Hoyos. He was standing there, the gun still smoking in his hand, his thin lips drawn back slightly. "I saw a gun!"

I didn't answer. Instead I went behind the desk, stepped over the dead man, and reached into the drawer. I took out the papers, which were held together by a large metal clamp. "That is your gun," I said quietly.

I saw the look that flashed between Hoyos and el Presidente, and I realized it wouldn't have mattered what the man had done. He was dead before we ever came into the office. I looked down at the papers, flipping through them rapidly, but the bills of lading, if there ever had been any, were gone.

There was more to the story of the guns than they were willing to have me discover.

CHAPTER 12

"My cousin," el Presidente said. "My own flesh and blood."

I looked across his desk at him. Despite the black mourning band on his sleeve he did not sound any sorrier than he had yesterday in the customs office. I didn't speak.

"You were right," he continued, "the guns were coming in on the ships. I never would have believed it. I had put my own cousin in charge of the port. If I couldn't trust him, whom could I trust?"

Again I had no answer, but this much I knew: there was no one he really trusted, except himself.

"I have placed the port under Hoyos' jurisdiction," he continued. "The army will control it now."

"What happened to the customs people?" I asked.

"They are in jail. They were all in it with him."

"You found evidence?"

"I found guns," he replied. "What more evidence do I need? For those guns to get off that ship, everyone had to know about it."

"And the captain? What about him?"

"We let him go. What else could we do? Have him call the American Embassy and create a big stink when you are trying to borrow twenty million dollars?"

There was a peculiar logic to his statement. This was one time we couldn't afford any trouble. I got to my feet and walked over to the window.

The ship was still in the harbor. It was due to leave on the evening tide. If only it hadn't been a Campion ship flying our flag we could close the port to the whole fleet. But how could you seal the port to vessels flying your own flag? The guns would still come in. If they were to be stopped another way had to be found.

El Presidente came over to the window and stood beside me. "It is never simple."

I turned to look at him.

"When I was a young man I thought I knew all the answers. Then I came to the palacia and found there is no quick and easy answer for anything. The smallest matters have a way of growing into insurmountable problems. And all the time there are people pushing you. Do this. Do that. First one way, then another, until there are times you wish you could take back the words you once said out of ignorance. No man ever knows anything until he is in the lonely and precarious seat of power and realizes how little he actually knows."

"I will speak to Campion when I get to New York. Perhaps he will know a way to keep the guns from getting onto his ships."

"Do that," the old man said, "but it will not help. How can Campion personally approve every freight order his ships pick up? He would have to look into every hold, every crate. And if he did that how long do you think he would remain in business?"

"I shall speak to him anyway."

"I am beginning to think there is only one way to settle this. It is for me to lead an army into the mountains and clean out the cursed bandoleros once and for always. Kill every one of them." "That is not the answer," I said. "You would have to kill the women and children, too, and you couldn't do that. Even if it were the only way, the world would turn away from us in horror."

"I know. The Americans would denounce us as a dictatorship and the Soviets would claim we were an extension of American imperialism."

El Presidente took a deep breath. "It's not easy. I sit here with my hands tied while every day a few more are murdered or subverted. And the only thing I can do is defend, never attack. It is a war without answer."

"The amnesty—"

He stared at me. "The amnesty is a failure! Has one single bandolero or revolutionary come forward? No, and they never will. You might as well accept it."

"It has been in effect only two weeks," I said. "They are still deliberating."

El Presidente walked away from me back to his desk. His voice was dry. "If you wish to continue to delude yourself, you can. I prefer to be realistic." He sat down heavily in his chair. "Take that little worm you allowed to escape with his life. Have you heard one word from him since? Or from his brother, that cowardly traitor? Or for that matter from the girl?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't tell el Presidente that I wouldn't even have known about the guns if it had not been for Beatriz. To me that was proof that the amnesty would at least be discussed and evaluated. I stopped in front of his desk. "You are not withdrawing your offer?"

"I don't have to," el Presidente replied contemptuously. "There is no need to withdraw a public offer that privately you know will never be accepted. At least this way the failure will be on their heads."

Then he changed the subject abruptly. "The girl? What are you planning to do about her?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"Better think about it, then. I have a feeling that somehow you've changed since you met her."

"What do you mean?"

"You have been in Corteguay for almost a month," he said, the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, "and there hasn't been the slightest hint of scandal. Not one father or husband has come forth with a complaint!"

As usual the drapes were drawn when I entered the room. "Amparo, I'm leaving tomorrow. I've come to say good-bye."

She looked up from the desk. Her voice sounded eerie, as if it were coming from a great distance. "That's very kind of you. You really didn't have to bother."

"I wanted to," I said, walking over to her. "I was wondering if there is anything I can do for you."

"For me?" There was an echo of surprise in her voice. "Why should you want to do anything for me?"

"For many reasons, most of which you know. But mainly because I don't like to see you like this."

Amparo looked straight into my eyes. Her own were calm and distant, as if we were speaking about some other person. "You mean the drugs?"

"Yes. There are places where you could be helped, you know. Cured."

"What would you cure me of, Dax? Of the only peace I've ever known?"

"But it's not real peace, Amparo, even you know that. It's only an illusion."

Again Amparo looked at me with that strange calmness. "Would you have me go back to what I was before? Torturing myself, living in terror, half crazy all the time with wanting things I knew I could never have? No, thank you. I don't care if it is only an illusion. Let me keep it, Dax."

"But you're only half alive."

"Half alive is better than dead." She looked down at the desk in front of her and picked up a letter. "Look at this, Dax. Do you know what I have been doing?"

I shook my head.

"I've been trying to write a letter of condolence. For two days I've been trying to write the family of my cousin to explain to them how sorry I am that he had to die because of my father's ambitions."

Amparo's voice was beginning to take on a slight edge of hysteria. "Do you know how many times I have had to write to families of men my father has killed? I can't even count them any more, there are so many."