The Adventurers

by Harold Robbins

  I looked at her in surprise. “How did you know he sent for me?”

  She laughed. “La dueña. I heard her say that if it weren’t for your father you would have been sent down.”

  “Where did she hear that?”

  “From one of Papá’s aides. Papá always asks for your school report.”

  El Presidente had many more important things on his mind than my marks at school. Why this interest in me?

  “Papá thinks of you often. He says that if my brothers had lived they would have been like you.” She looked down at her hands, and a wistful note came into her voice. “Sometimes I wish I had been a boy. Then maybe Papá wouldn’t feel so badly.”

  “He would rather have you than any of them,” I said.

  Her face brightened. “Do you really think so?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m going to be very smart, he’ll see. I’ll be able to do as much as any boy.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I answered. It was always safe to agree with Amparo. That way we didn’t get into any arguments.

  “When are you leaving for Paris?”

  This time I was really surprised. “Paris?”

  “You’re going to Paris,” she said positively. “I heard my father say so. Your father is going there on a trade mission. Los Estados Unidos and Great Britain refuse to send their ships to trade with us. We must find new markets for our products or we will not survive. France seems most logical.”

  “Perhaps my father is going without me.”

  She shook her head. “No. He will be gone for several years. Besides, I heard Papá say that he will arrange for you to attend a school there.”

  “It’s funny he never said anything to me.”

  “It was only settled this morning,” she said. “I heard them talking at breakfast.”

  I thought of the French freighter I had seen at the docks. I wondered if we might be sailing on her. I walked to the window and looked out toward the port. I couldn’t see her at the pier. She must already have gone.

  Amparo came and stood beside me. “Shall we go outside for a walk?”

  “If you like.”

  We went downstairs and out her private entrance, which opened onto a small garden. As we came out of the building two soldiers fell in behind us just out of earshot. We went through the iron gate and strolled down the path toward the administración building. Soldiers snapped to attention and saluted as we passed.

  A car had pulled up in front of the “little palace,” as the guest house was now called. A man got out and hurried into the building. I couldn’t see his face. “Who was that?”

  Amparo shrugged. “I have seen him several times. I think he is the manager of La Cora.”

  I knew who La Cora was. She was the latest in a series of residents of the little palace. El Presidente liked to have things brought to him.

  “I don’t think he will be going there much longer,” Amparo said suddenly.

  “Why?”

  “I think Papá is already getting bored with La Cora. He has had dinner with me almost every night this week.” There was a faintly malicious sound of triumph in her voice.

  I knew, of course, about the women who had come to the little palace in a steady procession. They stayed an average of six weeks, then disappeared. A few days later another would appear. Our Presidente was a man of diversified tastes. La Cora had lasted longer than most; she had been in residence almost two months. “I wonder what she looks like.”

  “She’s not very pretty,” Amparo replied disdainfully.

  “I heard she was.”

  “I don’t think so,” Amparo answered. “She has big tetas. They’re out to here.” She held her hands out a foot in front of her chest.

  “I like big tetas.”

  She looked down at herself. Her own breasts were just beginning to form. “I shall have big tetas,” she said, “bigger than hers.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I answered soothingly.

  “Would you like to see her?”

  “Yes.”

  Amparo turned and walked up to the entrance of the little palace. The soldier on duty saluted, then opened the door. We went into the house, where a majordomo greeted us.

  Amparo looked down her nose at him. “I have come to call on La Cora.”

  The servant stood there hesitantly. I could see that he did not know what to do. Amparo, however, was used to having her own way. “I am not used to waiting!”

  The majordomo bowed. “Of course, Princesa. If you will follow me?”

  He led us to an apartamiento in the left wing of the building, and paused outside the door. Through it we could hear the faint murmur of voices. He knocked.

  The voices fell silent. A moment later a woman called, “Who is it?”

  “La princesa está aquí.”

  “La princesa?”

  “Sí, señorita. She wishes to see you.”

  There was a quick murmur of voices again, and the door opened. A tall woman with large dark eyes and black hair gathered into a chignon stood in the doorway. She looked at Amparo, then stepped back. “I am honored, Princesa.”

  Amparo swept into the room as if it were her own. “I thought it might be nice if we had tea together.”

  The woman glanced at the man by the window fleetingly. I saw him nod impersonally. His face was thin and he wore a Vandyke beard. His eyes were very dark and glittered.

  “It will be my pleasure, Princesa.” La Cora clapped her hands, and the majordomo came to the door. “Tea, please, Juan.”

  Amparo said, “I would like to present my friend, Don Diogenes Alejandro Xenos.”

  La Cora curtsied, and I bowed. “My pleasure, señorita.”

  “May I present my manager, Señor Guardas?”

  The manager bowed, his heels clicking audibly in the military fashion. “A su servicio.” He straightened up and looked at La Cora. “I trust you can persuade his excellency to attend. I have arranged a special entertainment for tonight.”

  “He will attend.”

  Señor Guardas walked to the door. “I must now excuse myself. I have many pressing engagements.”

  Amparo nodded, and he bowed again as he went out the door. I watched until it had closed behind him. There was no doubt in my mind that he had once been a soldier. It showed in his carriage, the military cadence of his walk.

  La Cora pulled her peignoir closer around her and touched her hair. “Had I known of your visit, Princesa, I would have made myself more presentable. If you could grant me a moment perhaps I could change into something more suitable?”

  “Of course.”

  Amparo turned to me as soon as La Cora had left the room. “She does have big tetas, doesn’t she?” she whispered.

  I suddenly heard a voice through the open window. I walked over and looked out. I couldn’t see who was speaking, for whoever it was was directly beneath the window and hidden from my view. But the voice was oddly familiar.

  “La bomba must be placed on the table exactly at midnight!”

  The answering voice was indistinguishable. “It will be done, excelencia.”

  “See to it. There must be no blunders!”

  There was a moment’s silence, then two men came into view. One was the majordomo, the other Señor Guardas. The majordomo’s hand came up in a half salute as Señor Guardas turned and hurried off. No wonder the voice had seemed familiar; I had heard it only a moment before. I turned to Amparo.

  She was studying herself in the mirror. “Do you think my tetas will get to be as big as La Cora’s?”

  “I think so,” I replied dryly.

  She saw my face in the mirror. “What is puzzling you?”

  “They must be having a big entertainment tonight,” I said. “They’re even having firecrackers on the table.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Just now. I heard La Cora’s manager giving the instructions to the majordomo. He wanted la bomba placed on the table exactly at midnig
ht. I wonder what sort of entertainment they are going to have?”

  La Cora’s voice came from the doorway. “It is actually only a simple little party for el Presidente and a few members of the cabinet. We honor the beginning of his third year as our leader and benefactor.”

  “Oh, then that must be the reason for la bomba at midnight.”

  La Cora laughed. “The way you say it makes it sound most ominous. Actually, it’s to be molded of ice cream.”

  “That’s a very clever idea,” I said. “La bomba de helado.”

  La Cora looked over at Amparo. “You know how your father loves ice cream.”

  Just then the majordomo came into the room with the tea tray.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Amparo said suddenly. “I’ve just remembered I have to be back at the residencia. Are you coming, Dax?”

  I looked at La Cora apologetically, then hurried after Amparo, who was already disappearing down the hallway. I caught up to her just before she reached the front door. “What are you so angry about?” I asked, holding it open for her.

  “I hate her!”

  The two soldiers fell in behind us as we walked off toward the residencia. “Why?” I asked. “What has she ever done to you?”

  Amparo looked at me coldly. “You’re like all men. You see nothing but a big pair of tetas.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is! I saw the way you were drooling. You couldn’t look anywhere else.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” I asked. “There wasn’t much else to look at.”

  Amparo stopped as we started up the walk to her private entrance. “You never looked at me like that.”

  “I will,” I promised, “when you grow up.”

  “If you were a gentleman you would look at me that way now!”

  I looked at her. Then in spite of myself I had to laugh.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “There’s nothing to look at.”

  I saw her hand coming and I caught it just before it could slap me. “Why do you want to do that?”

  Her eyes flashed angrily. “I hate you!” She pulled her hand away from mine and drew herself up haughtily. “I never want to see you again!”

  I shrugged and started down the walk.

  “Dax!”

  “Yes?”

  She held out her hand. “You didn’t kiss me good-bye.”

  22

  I felt a rough hand shaking my shoulder. I rolled away from it and burrowed back under the sheets. They were soft and warm. I didn’t want to go to school. I might even plead illness.

  “Wake up, Dax!” Fat Cat’s voice was harsh, urgent.

  My subconscious identified the sound. I had heard it before. In the jungle, in the mountains. It meant danger. I sat up in bed, wide awake now. Night was still outside the windows. “What is it?”

  Fat Cat’s face was tense. “Your father wants to see you right away!”

  I glanced out the window, then back at him. “Now?”

  “Inmediatamente!”

  I was out of the bed and dressing. I glanced at the clock; it was two in the morning. I felt a cold dread creep over me. I shivered as I buttoned my shirt. “He has been hurt! He is dying!”

  Fat Cat remained grim and silent.

  I stared at him as he handed me my jacket. “La bomba!”

  I saw the surprise come into his face. I spoke again before he could. “La bomba de helado! Asesinato!”

  He crossed himself quickly. “You knew?”

  I grabbed his hand. “Is my father alive? Tell me!”

  “He is alive. But we must hurry.”

  The chauffeur was behind the wheel of the big black Hudson, the motor racing. We got in silently and immediately we roared out the driveway toward the Palacio del Presidente. The guards waved us through without the usual identification.

  I was out of the car and inside before Fat Cat was off the seat. The foyer was crowded with men. I saw el Presidente sitting in a chair in the corner. He was bare to the waist and a doctor was winding a bandage around the upper part of his chest. His face was white and drawn as he looked at me.

  “Where is my father?”

  He gestured toward La Cora’s apartamiento. “In the bedroom.”

  Without another word I ran out the door toward the apartamiento. The first room was the living room, where Amparo and I had been earlier that day. Plaster and dust were everywhere. Half the far wall had been blown inward. I ran through what was left of the doorway to the dining room.

  It was completely wrecked. The big windows and French doors were blasted open to the night. Tables and chairs everywhere were broken into fragments. The bodies of two men still lay on the floor but I didn’t waste even a look at them.

  I went through another doorway into a small foyer. There was a closed door at the opposite end which two soldiers were guarding. One of them opened the door when he saw me.

  I came to a dead stop in the doorway. Two priests were already there; a portable altar had been set up at the foot of the bed and the flickering light of the candle cast a wavering shadow of a crucifix onto the wall. One was kneeling before the altar; the other, bending over the bed, held a crucifix above my father’s face. On the opposite side of the bed was a doctor, a hypodermic needle in his hand.

  My legs were suddenly leaden. I stumbled as I came into the room and caught a chair to right myself. “Papá!”

  Then I was at the side of the bed, tears running down my cheeks. His face was ashen gray and I could feel the cold sweat on his cheek as I bent to kiss him. He didn’t move.

  I looked at the doctor. “He’s dead!”

  The doctor shook his head.

  “Don’t lie to me!” I shouted. “He’s dead!”

  I put my hands under my father’s shoulders to lift him. My father groaned and I lowered my hands as if I had been scorched. There was an empty space on his left side. I stared at the doctor. “Where is his arm?”

  The doctor’s face was expressionless. “It was blown off by the explosion.”

  I sensed a flicker of light coming from over my head and, looking up, I saw that the canopy over the bed was mirrored. I could see the weird shapes we made as we stood about the bed. Slowly I looked around the room. It was all red velvet and gilt. On the walls hung paintings of nude men and women. And in each corner were statues of couples in obscene embrace.

  My father groaned again. I looked down at him. The beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. The doctor leaned over and wiped them away as I slowly got to my feet. “Take him out of here!”

  “No,” the doctor said, “it is dangerous to move him.”

  “I don’t care!” I shouted. “Take him out of here! I won’t have him die here in this whore’s room!”

  I felt the priest’s hands on my shoulders. “My son—”

  I shook myself free. “I want him out of here! A harlot’s bed is no place for a man to die!”

  The doctor started to speak, then fell silent as a voice came from behind me. It was el Presidente’s. He stood in the open doorway, the bandage still around his naked chest. “The child is father to the man,” he said. “You will do as the boy commands.”

  “But—” the doctor protested.

  “He will be taken, bed and all, to my own room in the residencia!”

  El Presidente’s voice was final and commanding. He gestured to the soldiers in the hallway behind him. They covered Papá with more blankets. It took ten of them to lift the heavy bed and carry it out of the house and down the walk to the residencia. Fat Cat and I followed silently, and it wasn’t until I had seen my father moved into el Presidente’s own chamber that I turned to the priest who had come from La Cora’s bedroom with us. “Now, Padre, I shall pray!”

  The faint light of morning was just coming into the room when el Presidente opened the door an hour later. He stood looking at me for a moment, then crossed to the bed where my father lay. I watched him as he stood there silently. His face showed
no expression.

  Then he turned. “Come, soldadito. It is time for breakfast.”

  I shook my head.

  “You can leave him. He will live.”

  I looked into his eyes.

  “I would not lie to you,” he said quietly. “He will live.”

  I believed him. He put an arm around my shoulder as we started out of the room. In the doorway I looked back. My father seemed to be sleeping. I could see the rise and fall of the white coverlet over his chest.

  We went downstairs. The smell of hot food came to my nostrils, and suddenly I was hungry. I sat down at the table in the dining room and a servant placed a platter of ham and eggs before me. I began to eat ravenously.

  El Presidente sat in a chair at the head of the table and another servant brought him a cup of steaming coffee. He wore a loose-fitting shirt, so I could not see whether he was still bandaged, but he moved his arm awkwardly as he lifted the cup.

  “Now do you feel better?” he asked as I pushed back my empty plate.

  I nodded. A servant put a cup of cafe con leche before me. I raised it to my lips. The coffee was hot and good. I sipped it, then put the cup down. “What happened to La Cora?”

  El Presidente’s eyes flamed. “La puta, she got away!”

  “How?”

  “She left the room when the ice cream was placed upon the table. She said she wished to freshen up, but instead she left the grounds immediately in a black car. She and another, a man with a beard, were in the backseat. Her majordomo was driving.” He picked up his coffee cup again. “But we will find her, and when we do—”

  “Didn’t the guards stop the car?”

  “No, and already they have paid for their carelessness!”

  “The bomb was in the ice cream?”

  A surprised look came over his face. “How did you know?”

  I told him of the conversation I had overheard yesterday under La Cora’s window. He sat silently all through my accounting. When I had finished a knock came at the door. He nodded to a servant, who went to the door.

  An army officer, a captain, entered and saluted. El Presidente negligently returned the salute.

  “We have found La Cora and the majordomo, excelencia.”

  “Bueno.” El Presidente rose to his feet. “I personally shall attend to those two.”