Something about the sound of his voice aroused my suspicion, and it took me only a few minutes to ascertain that the office was bugged. I picked up one of the tiny microphones and looked at him.
His face was pale but he didn't speak.
"Why didn't you tell me the office was wired?" I said. "We could have saved the time spent in writing a report if we had known that everything that was said was being taped."
CHAPTER 35
It was perhaps an hour later when I presented myself at el President's apartamiento. But what I had to do might require that extra hour.
A servant let me in. "El Presidente is expecting you, excellency, but at eleven o'clock."
"It is an emergency," I said in my most authoritative voice. "I must see him immediately."
"He is with la princesa. El Presidente never allows us to disturb him when he is in her apartment."
"I shall return in an hour, then."
I turned from the door and went down the stairs and across the courtyard from la residencia to the little palace which Amparo now occupied. The soldiers on guard snapped to attention. "El Presidente has summoned me."
"Si, excelencia!" Both saluted and one of them hastened to hold open the door.
I stepped inside. The little palace hadn't been changed since I had been there last. I had been only a boy then, the day the bomb had severed my father's arm. It was just as well that Amparo would be present at our meeting, for what I had to say would affect her, too. I knocked softly on the sitting-room door.
There was no answer.
I knocked again, this time a little louder.
Still no answer.
I turned the knob and walked in. Only one dim lamp lit the corner. I reached out and switched on the lights, and it was then I heard sounds coming from the bedroom. I crossed the room. The sounds were louder now, and I recognized them. I had been married to Amparo long enough.
The servant must have been mistaken. That or he had lied deliberately. El Presidente was not here. I had just turned to leave when a scream of pain shattered the room. Then there was another. It contained so much agony and terror that involuntarily I threw myself against the door and burst into the bedroom.
I was almost in the center before I could stop myself. I stood there staring, a nausea churning my stomach. They were naked on the bed, Amparo's legs wide, el Presidente on his knees between them, a huge black dildo strapped around his waist. In his hand he held a riding crop.
He turned to stare at me over his shoulder. "Dax, you've come just in time to help me punish her!"
The sound of his voice helped break my paralysis. I moved over to the bed and pulled him away from her. "Are you crazy?" I shouted. "Do you want to kill her?"
He got off the bed and stood glaring at me, the dildo hanging down obscenely. I turned and bent over the bed. Amparo raised her head. "Dax," she whispered softly, "why did you do that? Now he'll be angry with you, too."
Then I noticed her eyes. They were wide and dilated and hazy with heroin. Slowly I pulled the sheet up to cover her. When I turned back, el Presidente had already unstrapped the dildo. It was lying on the floor. He picked up his trousers. "Dax," he said in a normal voice, as if nothing had happened, "have you signed the orders?"
"No, there are no orders to sign. A court-martial has acquitted them."
"A court-martial?" El Presidente turned, his trousers still dangling in front of him.
"Yes," I answered. "There will be no more executions, no more extermination of people. An hour ago I sent word to the field ordering a cease-fire. The army will only fight now if attacked."
He stared at me with unbelieving eyes. 'Traitor!" he screamed suddenly, dropping the trousers. He held a revolver, which must have been in one of the pockets. "Traitor!" he screamed again, and pulled the trigger.
I froze, expecting a bullet, but the firing pin struck an empty chamber. I was on him before he could try a second time, and knocked the revolver from his hand. He leaped at me, screaming obscenities, his skinny arms flailing, his fingers gouging at my face and eyes. I tried to hold him but he pushed me and I stumbled over a chair. He dove after the revolver, and we thrashed around on the floor.
Suddenly I was aware of Amparo, dancing nakedly around us. "Kill him, Dax," she screamed excitedly, "kill him!"
El Presidente's fingers reached for the gun, and on his face was an expression I remembered from my childhood. It was the same look of concentration that had been on his face as he had held the machine gun for me. But I had been a child then and had not understoood about killing. I thought I was bringing my mother and sister back to life.
Angrily, and for the first time, I struck out at that leering face. El Presidente fell away from me, his head striking the floor. I got to my feet slowly, and picked up the revolver from the floor.
"Kill him, Dax!" Amparo whispered in my ear. "Now! This is your chance, kill him!"
I looked at el Presidente, lying motionless on the floor, then at the revolver in my hand. There were so many dead because of him. It would be only justice.
"Now, Dax! Now! Now! Now!"
Amparo's voice was an obscene chant in my ears. I raised the gun slowly, aiming it at him. He opened his eyes, and for a long moment we stared at each other.
Amparo began to giggle hysterically. "Kill! Kill! Kill!"
I felt my finger tensing on the trigger.
"No, Dax," he said quietly, his eyes without fear, "if you do you will be no different from me."
Abruptly I lowered the gun. The temptation was gone. I felt Amparo pummeling my shoulder angrily. I pushed her away wearily. "Get back into bed, Amparo."
She was suddenly silent as she crept back.
I looked at el Presidente, who was beginning to struggle to his feet. Suddenly I saw him for what he had become—a skinny, trembling old man. He seemed to age before my eyes as he stood there in his bony nakedness. Instinctively I put out a hand to steady him.
He glanced at me, then sank gratefully into a chair. "It's over?" It was more statement than question.
"Yes."
He was silent for a moment. "I've taught you well. What will happen now?"
I glanced toward Amparo. She was sitting up in bed, her hands clasped around her knees, watching. Her eyes seemed clearer now. The heroin was probably wearing off.
I turned to el Presidente. "Exile."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You were like a son. When my own sons died I gave you their place in my heart."
I didn't answer.
He looked over at Amparo. "When do we go?"
"Now," I said, "as soon as you're dressed."
"Where?" Amparo asked from the bed.
"First to Panama. After that, anywhere in Europe you choose. But first you must sign these papers."
"What papers?"
"Your resignation as president and an agreement to remain in voluntary exile for life."
"Give me a pen." He signed without even looking at them.
"I'll wait outside while you get dressed," I said.
I went into the sitting room and picked up a telephone and dialed my office. Tulia answered. "Send the car around to the little palace," I said wearily. "They're ready to go."
I put down the telephone, and then remembered the promise I had made Beatriz earlier in the day. I picked up the receiver and dialed her number.
"Do you still want to leave Corteguay?"
"Yes."
"Then be ready in a half an hour. I'll come around to pick you up."
Amparo came out of the bedroom, clutching a robe. "My father would like a fresh uniform. You know how he is. The one he is wearing is soiled."
I gestured at the phone.
She picked it up and dialed his apartment and asked a servant to bring over a clean uniform. Then she put the phone down and started back toward the bedroom.
"Amparo?"
She turned and looked at me.
"Why did you let him do that to you?"
"Because he was el Pr
esidente," she said gently, "and because he was an old man and my father. There was no one else who would let him keep the illusion."
She turned and went back into the bedroom.
From outside I heard the sound of a car.
CHAPTER 36
I took Beatriz' bag as she came out the door and locked it behind her. We walked slowly to the jeep. The others had already left for the airport.
"I promised you the first plane out," I said after we got in, "and I have kept my word. But I wish you'd think it over. In the next few days the commercial planes will be flying again." "No," she answered, without looking at me, "I've already made up my mind."
"You're a stubborn broad."
She looked at me without speaking, and we rode most of the rest of the way in silence. It was only as we approached the airport that she spoke again. "Dax, you don't understand," she said suddenly, "I'm—"
"Don't understand what?"
"Nothing. It's just that I can't stay. here. There are too many memories."
"All right," I answered, "you don't have to explain. Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
"That if you go to the States you'll let my friend Jeremy Hadley take you over to the State Department. They'll at least tell you the truth about what happened to your father."
She was silent for a moment. When she spoke again her voice was very low and there was something suspiciously like tears in it. "I will."
There was one last-minute addition to the passenger list. Hoyos. He came over to me while the others were boarding. "I have spoken with el Presidente. He is willing for me to accompany him if there is room in the plane."
I looked at him questioningly.
"I am much too old to develop new allegiances," he said. "There is no place for me here."
"You may go."
"Thank you, excellency." He hurried aboard.
El Presidente and Amparo were the first to board. They spoke to no one. I couldn't see his face—the collar of his greatcoat was pulled up around it—but at the last moment he turned and looked out. He seemed to be searching for something, but after a moment he disappeared inside.
Hoyos was next aboard. He scampered upward without a backward look. Beatriz was next. She turned and came over to me. She raised herself and kissed me quickly on the cheek. "Thank you, Dax." Then she turned and hurried up the stairs.
I stood there looking after her. Suddenly I began to feel better. Somehow I knew that in a few days, when I followed her to New York, things would work out between us.
The cabin door shut, and a moment later Giraldo began to turn the engines over. I listened critically. They were running as smooth as silk. He stuck his head out the window and gave me a thumbs-up. I gestured back at him.
"Remember to come back after you put down in Panama!" I shouted over the roar of the engines.
He nodded, grinning, then, cranking up the window, began to taxi out onto the apron. I watched the plane turn into position, and at a signal from the control tower go racing down the strip and off into the sky. I followed it until its blinking red and green lights vanished among the stars. Then I turned and looked at the others.
It was Vasquez who put it best:
"Once, perhaps, in every fifty or a hundred years a man like el Presidente comes along. A man whose capacity for good or for evil is so vast that it is almost beyond the comprehension of ordinary men. Such a man was he, and we shall not forget him. For the good things he has done, and for the bad. But the tragedy is that with so little effort on his part it might have all been good. I pray to God that we may never see his likes again."
It was after four in the morning, and we were still in my office. So much had already been done. The cease-fire order had been confirmed and the language of a blanket amnesty had been agreed upon. It would be issued in the morning.
"Gentlemen," I said, "it now becomes the duty of this junta to elect a provisional president to govern in its name until an election can be held. As agreed, I shall vote only in case of a tie. There are four votes among you."
Tulia got to his feet. "I have taken the liberty of getting in touch with the commanders in the field. They all agree that you are the logical person to carry on the government until an election can be held."
"I am honored, gentlemen, but my answer is the same as it was earlier this evening. No. The honor you do me is great but the temptation is even greater. For too long in our country this has been the classical means of seizing power. Just this once let it not be said that all of us acted out of personal motives, but only for the ultimate good of our country. Actually I no longer belong here. I have been away too long and know too little about the needs of our people. What is needed is a man who knows and loves the people of Corteguay—all the people, the campesino and city dweller alike. There are good men among you. Select one and I will deem it an honor to serve under him."
Tulia looked at the others and then back at me. "In anticipation of your refusal we have made a second choice."
Vasquez got to his feet. "Colonel Tulia," he said in a hurt voice, "you forgot to consult me."
The others began to smile. Tulia, too, began to smile. "Would you accept my apologies, Senor Presidente?"
We walked down the hallway to el Presidente's office. Now it was no longer his. I supposed in time we would get used to that, too. I opened the door and stood back. "Tomorrow morning this will be your office, Senor Presidente."
Vasquez started forward, then stopped. He stood there for a moment looking in, then turned to me. "Tomorrow morning it will be mine," he said quietly, "but tonight—tonight it is yours. Without you there might not have been a tomorrow."
He pushed me gently through the door. "I will come back in the morning," he said. "Good night, Senor Presidente."
One by one they bid me good night, and then walked down the corridor. I watched them until they had passed the guard at the far end, then turned to Fat Cat, who was standing silently against the wall.
"Shall we go in?" "No," he said, shaking his head. "I have a premonition."
"You and your premonitions!" I laughed, and strode into the office.
I walked around the desk and sat down in the chair. It was just the kind of chair to make a man feel big and strong and powerful. I leaned back in it, putting my hands in my pockets. I felt el Presidente's revolver in one of them, and I took it out and threw it to Fat Cat.
He caught it deftly. "Where did you get this?"
"El Presidente tried to kill me but it misfired."
A shadow flashed across Fat Cat's face. "That's twice today you escaped. The third is the unlucky time. Come, let us go from here."
I laughed. "I'll go after I've had one cup of coffee. There's a kitchen back there; go make us a pot."
Fat Cat looked at me hesitantly. "I don't like to leave you alone."
"What can happen to me in the time it takes to brew a pot of coffee?" I asked. "See, it's already daylight."
Fat Cat still didn't move.
I got to my feet and took a machete down from the wall where el Presidente had hung it. I placed it on the desk in front of me. "Besides, I have this."
Fat Cat shook his head and turned, still silent, and started back to the kitchen. I heard the faint rattle of pots and then the sound of water running. I got out of the chair and walked slowly around the office. It was still filled with memories of el Presidente. There were pictures of him everywhere I turned—medals, medallions, scrolls, cups, each engraved with his name.
The gray morning light began to fill the room. I walked over to the window and looked out at the city. The street lights were beginning to go out near the port and soon the first rays of the sun would be creeping in from behind the mountains to the east. I opened the wide French doors and went out into the garden to breathe the morning air.
It was sweet and fresh as I strolled across the garden to the wall to look east to the mountains and catch the first glimpse of the morning sun. Then I heard a faint sound behind me
. I started to turn but suddenly I was caught in a grip of steel. An arm crooked around my neck from behind, and I was jerked backward almost off my feet as a harsh voice whispered in my ear. "Not a sound or you're a dead man!"
I tried to turn but the arm held me as if I were a baby. Again that voice in my ear. "El Presidente—where is he?"
The pressure relaxed slightly so that I could speak. "He is gone. Exiled."
The arm tightened again. "You lie!"
Another voice came from behind me. "It does not matter. This one is as good."
I stared as the man behind me came around to face me. He was one of the ugliest individuals I had ever seen. His mouth was twisted in a perpetual grin over blackened steel false teeth. His right hand was crushed, the fingers twisted, and a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun rested negligently in the crook of his other arm.
"Do you recognize me?"
I shook my head.
"Remember the boy whose father you talked into coming down from the mountains to be murdered?"
He began to laugh as he saw my eyes widen. "That's right, el Condor. I never forgot your face, how could you forget mine?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't have even if I had wanted to; the arm around my throat allowed me scarcely enough air to breathe.
"Let him go."
Abruptly the arm was taken from my neck, and I was hurled back against the wall. I stumbled and almost fell but managed to turn and face them. The other man was older, square and stockily built. There were two guns stuck into his belt.
"How does it feel to be trapped the way my father was trapped?" el Condor asked.
I didn't answer.
"I swore that I would not go back to the mountains this time without the blood of at least one of my father's assassins!"
I still didn't speak. I was tightening my muscles for an attempt to escape. Carefully I tried to gauge the distance between us. He was at least eight feet away.
"Assassin!" el Condor suddenly screamed. "You die!"
I sprang toward him at the same moment I saw the muzzle of the gun flash. At first I thought he had missed, then I was on the ground before him, staring up at him, and I knew he hadn't. But the strangest thing was that there was no pain. I had always thought there would be pain.
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