Over the Andes to Hell (A Captain Gringo Western Book 8)

by Lou Cameron

  “Ach, so much you talk and so hard I have to pedal. How much do you weigh? Don’t answer. I don’t want to know. I told you I would all explain when we got to my place and we are almost there, if I don’t die from huffing-puffing!”

  Captain Gringo shrugged and shut up. He had no choice. Whatever this little guy’s game was, it beat hanging around back there waiting to be arrested. The derby and silly mustache didn’t fool him. He’d seen the way the little bastard aimed a gun. He was trying to be taken for a humorous, harmless little fop. Maybe even a sissy. Despite the mustache, the German agent seemed a bit effeminate as well as short. What the hell was that stink he had on? He was sweating in the hot sun, and when the wind was right it smelled like a whorehouse towel back there. A raunchy mixture of hot crotch and French perfume. Captain Gringo knew European men wore more in the way of aftershave lotion than Americans, but this little guy overdid it. The accent was plastered on pretty heavy, too. He’d crossed swords with German agents before. Most of them had spoken pretty good Spanish as well as English. The little guy threw in a lot of nicht wahrs and achs, like a music hall comic trying to sound like a German. Would a real German do that?

  He almost lost his balance and spilled them as Derby Hat whipped around a corner he hadn’t expected and coasted to a stop near a breezeway break in the walls. He told Captain Gringo, “Get off, we are here.” So the tall American did so.

  The German led the way in, wheeling the bike. The breezeway led into a small, cool, well-manicured patio with a pink stucco house wrapped around it. Captain Gringo asked, “Is this whole place yours?” and the German said, “Ja, privacy in my kind of business I need. I have a cleaning crew in twice a week, but we are here completely alone and, as you see, nobody knows you are here.”

  The weird little German leaned the bike against a tree and ushered him into a beamed drawing room that opened on the patio. A pair of big black vicious-looking Dobermans eyed him thoughtfully from where they sat, like cast-iron statues, near the cold hearth of a baronial fireplace. Captain Gringo said, “Hi, dogs,” and the German said, “They will pay you no attention, since they see you are an invited guest.”

  “Yeah? What if I was an uninvited guest?”

  “They would kill you, of course. They are not pets. They are trained German soldiers. But sit and allow me to introduce myself. Ich heiss—ach, I mean, I’m called Max. Last names, as you know, are unimportant in this business.”

  As he took a seat on the leather sofa, Captain Gringo grinned and asked, “Is Max your real first name?”

  The German laughed, took off the derby, revealing close-cropped blond hair, and replied, “Of course not, but one must to some name answer. Sit quietly and let the hounds get used to you. I will us some refreshments fix.”

  Captain Gringo leaned back but eyed the two silent Dobermans warily as he lit a smoke and tried to relax. They were breathing, so you could tell they were real. He wondered how Max had trained them so well.

  The German puttered at a sideboard for a few moments before coming to join him on the sofa with a silver tray holding glasses, a soda siphon, and a bottle of Glengorm. As he built his own highball he asked, “Scotch, Max? I thought you guys were sore at the British!”

  Max shrugged and said, “Der Kaiser’s grandmother is Queen Victoria. We only wish our place in the sun beside the British. We do not reject the finer things of Anglo-Saxon culture.”

  “Yeah, I noticed the Spandau is a pretty good copy of the Anglo-American Maxim gun. But let’s get to where I fit into the Kaiser’s plans these days. What made you butt into my tussle with El Arano’s agents back there, Max?”

  Max built another, stronger drink as he replied, “Two reasons. As I said, you and your friend, Gaston Verrier, worked with German agents at a time the last government was planning to seize all foreign property in Colombia, including ours.”

  “That was a side issue and you know it. Get to the good part.”

  “Very well. Let us say that in our own march to empire we Germans have learned well the British game of fishing in troubled waters. Like everyone else, we have no idea what the new ruling junta’s policies will be. As you know, Krupp-Siemans has important mining properties here in the Andes.”

  “Meaning you figure to keep the new government so busy with other problems that they won’t have time to get around to* nationalizing any German holdings, eh?”

  “Exactly so. General Reyes, we think, is a man we can deal with. He is neither for nor against outside interests developing the mines in this country. He is an old-fashioned Spanish don who only wants, as you Americans say, his cut?”

  “So why are you trying to screw him up by helping outlaws like me?”

  “Ach, so much you talk and so little you listen! General Reyes ist not holding your friend in the presidio. General Reyes leaves such matters to El Arano. And El Arano ist to us an unknown quality! Not even the officers of Colombia we have on our payroll can tell us what El Arano is planning next. It makes Der Kaiser nervous to have wild cards in his poker game with the British. Ist better they be dealt out of the game, nicht wahr?”

  “Maybe. It seems to me you blew a chance just now to get in good with El Arano. You knew he had me under observation. Didn’t it occur to you to help them in your capacity as an agent of a friendly government?”

  Max shook his head and said, “We are not dealing with such a dried-and-cut officer in El Arano. Surely you see he was up to something more than the usual security precautions? Arresting you is not his game.”

  “What is his game then?”

  “Donner und blitzen, I don’t know! That is why I think we should keep you alive until we find-out. I helped you throw them off your trail. Now they will have to look for you some more.”

  “Meanwhile, other German agents will be watching to see where they look?”

  “Exactly. They must be expecting you to contact somebody. If we can find out who, we will have certain advantages. Fishing in troubled waters works best when one knows where to cast the bait, eh?”

  Captain Gringo shrugged and took a swallow of his Scotch and soda before he said, “I had no intention of looking up any old rebels. The only guy up here I want to see is Gaston, and they already have him. I don’t suppose you guys would be up to helping me bust him out of that presidio, huh?”

  Max laughed and said, “That would be troubling the waters indeed. I will be frank. I have already mein neck stuck out for you more than my orders called for. But why not wait and see what we shall see? You are safe here. Even if they found out you were here, I have diplomatic immunity. So make yourself at home. Are you comfortable?”

  Captain Gringo’ shrugged and said, “Sure. Considering the alternatives.”

  “You don’t find it too warm in here? Why don’t you take off your coat? When in Rome, one must observe the customs, and it is siesta time, ja?”

  The tall American shook his head and said, “I’m fine. It never gets really hot up here in the highlands and, as a matter of fact, it’s pretty cool in here.”

  Max stood up and said, “Suit yourself. I am going to slip into something more comfortable. Maybe I will take a little nap. Would you care to join me?”

  “Uh, I guess I could use forty winks, if you, uh, have a spare bedroom.”

  Max frowned and said, “Of course I don’t have a spare bedroom. I am a spy, not an innkeeper. What’s the matter, are you afraid I snore?”

  “You snore all you like. I’m not really tired, anyway.”

  Max shrugged and sort of flounced out of the room. Captain Gringo poured another stiff one as he glanced over at the watchful dogs by the fireplace and muttered, “Oboy! Like the girl said in Alice in Wonderland, things get curiouser and curiouser, don’t they?”

  The dogs didn’t answer, so Captain Gringo was left to decide on his own how he’d deal with little Max if the guy turned out to be a fairy. He knew the German was a killer. He knew it would be suicide to do any flouncing out on his own right now. Between the
m, they’d just put two Colombian agents on the ground. The streets would be crawling with avenging patrols. It wouldn’t be safe to go out on the streets again, if then, until the siesta was over and, better yet, the sun went down.

  Max came back in, walking barefoot in a wraparound fancy cloth robe. It wasn’t a particularly feminine robe, but Max had it fastened from the right, like a girl’s. Max rejoined him on the sofa, tucking his bare shins and feet up under the robe to say, “There now, that’s better.”

  Captain Gringo didn’t answer as Max built another heroic drink. His old Legion buddy, Gaston, had admitted to having been “practique” about sex a few times at lonely outposts. Captain Gringo had just never been able to get excited about boys.

  He was a live-and-let-live guy and too sure of his own manhood to have to go around beating pansies up to prove he didn’t have a secret yen for them. But Max was making him nervous as hell. It was one thing to gently tell a queer you met in a bar that you weren’t the kind of lad he was looking for. But Max was backed up with a gun and two killer dogs and, worse yet, he couldn’t afford to offend the little bastard.

  He tried to steer the conversation back to El Arano and the dark deeds of derring-do they’d been talking about. But Max was staring owlishly at him and didn’t seem interested. Captain Gringo said something about Gaston and Max said, “Screw Gaston. And, by the way, have you, ever?”

  “Hey, Gaston’s a guy, Max!”

  “So you keep telling me. But I must say you’re going to an awful lot of trouble for a platonic relationship.” Then Max giggled and added, “Of course, Plato also favored other kinds of friendships, nicht wahr? We all know how the Greek hoplites solved their sexual problems on the march through enemy territory. You can tell me. I, too, am an old soldier.”

  Captain Gringo managed not to grimace as he met the German’s gaze and said flatly, “I’d rather pull my pud. I guess I’m just an old-fashioned boy.”

  Max was staring wistfully down in the general direction of the big Yank’s lap and there were little beads of sweat above the silly mustache. Max was younger-looking than he’d first taken him for, or maybe he was one of those little guys with a glandular problem. He’d have been a nice-looking little guy without the Kaiser Bill and Heidelberg haircut. He wasn’t too short to get a girl. But Captain Gringo didn’t think this was the time to bring that up.

  Max finished the first drink and started on another. Captain Gringo resisted an impulse to tell, him he was putting it away pretty well, too. The German seemed to be trying to get up his courage with booze. But courage to do what? He’d just shot a man in cold blood, cold sober.

  Max said, “I am making you uneasy, ja?” and the American lied when he replied, “No, why should I be nervous? Are you packing a gun inside that bathrobe, old buddy?”

  Max laughed and the voice got even higher as the German said, “Maybe I will let you see what I have under my robe. If we are to work together it might be better to get the sexual tension out of the way, here and now. Why don’t you take off your clothes, Dick? I am really dying to make love to you!”

  Captain Gringo took a sip of his own drink and said, “Gee, I wish you wouldn’t, Max. Uh, I don’t know how to put this delicately, but …”

  “Do you find me so unattractive? I have made love to men better-looking than you, you know!”

  “I’m sure you have,” he soothed. “I’m sure I’m passing up a great opportunity, Max. But you see, I’m sort of, well, let’s call it shy.”

  Max swallowed some more scotch, without the soda, and said, “I, too, was shy about such matters when I first went to work for Der Kaiser, but a secret agent has enough worries. We Űbermenschen do not live by the mundane rules of bourgeois society. We are free to live and love as we please, or as we must. Shall I confess something to you, Dick? The first man who had me was a Turkish officer who had me as a prisoner in his power. I did not like him. I hated him. He was old and bald and greasy fat. But to save myself, I was forced to give in to his lusts. And, in the end, shall I tell you something even stranger, in the end I began to enjoy it!”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard some guys enjoy it in the end. But I’ll pass for now.”

  Max giggled and said, “Ach, such a naughty you are, mein innocent with the knowing eyes. Next you will tell me you have never in the end of any mädchen put it, ja?”

  “If a mädchen means a girl, I’ll plead no contest. But let’s get off the subject, Max.”

  “Why, am I an erection giving you? But you are right. It ist to talk about it without doing it a silly thing. So why don’t we just do it, and then we will more comfortable with each other be, and can make serious plans about serious matters, ja?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m just not interested, Max. I’d like to help you out, as a friend, but I couldn’t get it up for you with a block and tackle. I’ve had this conversation before and I’ve heard all your arguments. The idea just doesn’t interest me. You’re wasting your time.”

  Max rose a trifle unsteadily and said, “You are just being shy. We both know very well that if I presented my body to you, you would not be able to resist your natural desires!”

  “Hey, Max, I don’t even try to resist my natural desires, but …”

  And then he muttered, “Aw, shit,” as Max peeled off the robe, moved over to the sofa again, and got on hands and knees to present a round pink rump to him expectantly.

  Captain Gringo couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he stared blankly at the pink little asshole winking at him at point-blank range. Then he put his glass down, stood up, and unbuttoned his fly as Max giggled like a schoolgirl, watching him over one bare shoulder.

  Captain Gringo got one knee on the sofa, positioned his sudden erection between the German agent’s quivering buttocks, and thrust home as Max gasped, “Oh, so much of you there ist!”

  As Captain Gringo started screwing and undressing at the same time in his upright dog-style position, he asked, “Max, do you mind if I ask you something?”

  “Anything, liebling. Just don’t stop.”

  “Well, I was wondering why the hell you wear that false mustache when you’re trying to seduce a guy. It would have saved us a hell of a lot of time if I’d known all along that you were a woman!”

  Max laughed and answered, “Mein Gott! I forgot I had it on! You mean you thought … Ach, du Lieber! No wonder you were talking about putting it in mein rear. But, Gott be thanked, I see you found the right place after all!”

  Captain Gringo got rid of the last of his upper clothing as he said, “Yeah, and it’s nice as hell. Let’s turn you over and do this right.”

  So Max rolled over on her back to allow him to mount her properly, with his pants down around his booted ankles, but what the hell, that could wait. She was mannishly enough built to pass for a small, dapper male on the street, but female enough, from the chin down, for anyone on a sofa. As he settled into the saddle of her pale pink thighs and felt her little cupcake breasts against him, he started to kiss her, but said, “For God’s sake, can’t we take off that fucking mustache?”

  She moaned with desire and said, “Later, it is on me stuck with spirit gum and I must with alcohol remove it. Kiss me, Dick, I’m almost there!”

  He was, too, so he kissed her as they both climaxed in each other’s arms. She kissed as good as she screwed, but it sure felt stupid with that waxed mustache above her moist Frenching lips!

  He laughed down at her as they came up for air. Her eyes glowed with still unslaked desire as she asked uncertainly, “What’s wrong, mein tiger? Why have you stopped? Why are you so funny looking at me?”

  He said, “I haven’t stopped. Like John Paul Jones said, I’ve just begun to fuck. But I’m not the one that’s funny-looking. It’s just hit me that I don’t ever have to worry about turning swishy. I find it hard enough to kiss somebody wearing a mustache even when it’s a pretty girl!”

  Max moved her pelvis teasingly as she looked relieved and said, “Ach, m
ein poor innocent, before I have finished with you I shall teach you all the forbidden pleasures of bizarre sex. Let me arouse you again with my lips. Let me up, I wish to swallow you like a pythoness!”

  He said, “Well, all right, but goddamnit, you’re going to have to peel off that mustache!”

  Meanwhile, over at the presidio, an aide came in to Colonel Maldonado’s office wearing a somber expression. He said, “They just brought Gomez and Robles from the Calle de Mariposas, my Colonel. They had both been shot at close range. Gomez from the front and Robles from the back. The bodies are over in the infirmary, if you wish for to see them.”

  El Arafio looked disgusted and asked, “Why would I wish to see them? I knew what they looked like before they behaved so stupidly. Notify their families and make the usual arrangements for a military funeral. One may suppose even an idiot deserves a military funeral, eh?”

  The aide nodded but said, “Forgive me, my Colonel, I assumed you would wish for to examine the bodies for clues.”

  “Clues? Why do we need clues? I know who killed them. The police informant working as a waitress just a few yards from our gate has already made her report. The morons were following Captain Gringo, against my orders.”

  “The waitress identified the killer, my Colonel?”

  “Bah, the chica has no idea what happened. She only says a tall gringo bought a mirror from her. Do I have to draw you a picture, too?”

  The aide didn’t answer. El Arano sighed and said, “Look, the Americano was over there, scouting this installation, when he stopped at the cantina. He got the mirror from the girl to keep an eye on his rear view. It’s an old trick, but it usually works.”

  “Ah ah! And naturally, when the gringo left, the girl saw Gomez and Robles following him and—”