PS: I can assure you, you sad sack of sacrilegious impurity, or Mr. Excommunicado as we call you around the palace, the Church adopted its attire long before the appearance of the KKK.
“Wow, Gearheardt. There are some unhappy folks out there. What are you going to do?”
“Did you ever think you’d see a message from the Pope about my ass, Jack? I’m saving this one.” He folded the paper and stuck it into his jacket hanging over the chair.
“Isabella, come on over and let’s see where we are and what we can do.”
The woman walked over and pulled a chair up to the desk. Three other women, including a subdued Daisy, joined us also.
“I apologize for what has happened, ladies. It was my responsibility. I don’t blame the girls who jumped the gun. Each situation, as we all know, can only be judged from the view of those on the ground.”
Murmurs of sympathy and assent.
“I’ll be blunt. The good news is that we’ve cut a lot of balls off of bad guys.”
More murmurs, louder, affirming.
“I am going to assume, by the way, that the girls didn’t attach the de-nutter to their favorite clients.”
Murmurs, not so affirming.
“I know you don’t like any of them, but I mean the ones who don’t beat you and who tip generously.”
“Gearheardt, mi amore, you really don’t know what you’re talking about, so let’s get to the situation discussion?”
“You’re absolutely right, Isabella. Absolutely right. But anyway, we got hundreds of balls in traction or chopped off. That’s a victory of sorts.”
Isabella reached out and took Gearheardt’s hand. The kind of gesture which often signals bad news coming. “Señor Gearheardt,” she began, “the girls want me to tell you that they appreciate very much what you have tried to do for us.” She patted his hand. “Like the times before that men have promised to help us, we may be more worse off than before. In this case, we do not blame you and know that you were sincere. Also, we would like to tell you that we cannot do the intelligence network for longer.”
This was probably the bad news. The intelligence network had been a lot of hard work and probably a great leverage for Gearheardt’s operation, whatever it was.
Gearheardt took the news calmly.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Isabella.” He looked at Daisy. “What do you say, Daisy? You were head of the operation here and in Central America.”
Daisy lifted her head and her eyes were full. “Isabella speaks for me, Gearheardt. I am retire.”
“Daisy is concerned that the local police and others will not treat her kindly. After they find out. That is why we did not use so many Model 156’s in the Las Palomas. It was Daisy’s decision, but …” She shrugged.
We sat silent for a moment. Downstairs a loud chortling laugh announced the arrival of the late afternoon trade. Isabella let go of Gearheardt’s hand and lit a cigarette, offering one to Gearheardt also. It was the new regime.
“The new intelligence network is available for you, Señor Gearheardt,” Isabella said with a sly smile. “The fees will be slightly higher, of course. Say, fifty percent higher.”
Gearheardt sighed and slumped down in his chair. “I’m not sure I’m interested, but I’ll get back to you. You are offering an exclusive of course?”
Isabella just laughed. “My former boss said that exclusive does not make good competition and without competition the fees will be low.”
After a moment, Gearheardt drew himself up. “Well friends, I’ve got an airplane to catch. Jack, you’re welcome to come with me.” He put on his jacket.
“I think I’ll stay and face the music, Gearheardt. Keep in touch though. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where you’re going.”
“I’ve got about a dozen bastards I need to shoot, Jack. I think I’ll head over to India. It’s better to be shot like a dog in the street in India. Less embarrassing and hardly noticed. Take care, pal.” We both stood and shook hands. “No hugs, Jack, the women are watching.”
I walked out into the hall with Gearheardt, passing the women on the way. He took kisses from some of them. He was ignored by others and it seemed to hurt him.
“Nothing quite like the sickening stink of failure, Jack.” He sighed. “Don’t worry about your job with the agency if you want to stay. What happened this week will never have happened. Too many hands in the boiling pot for this to become a known incident.”
I went to the window and after a moment he appeared on the street, joking with the parking valet. A taxi drew up and stopped beside them. Gearheardt walked to the driver’s side, opened the door and, after extracting a surprised and frightened cabbie, got in. The taxi roared off in a cloud of burning rubber. As it passed the corner, a black Impala left the curb and accelerated after the taxi. I wanted to yell a warning to Gearheardt, beginning already to feel the loss.
“Gearheardt did not want you to see this, Jack.”
Isabella held out the teletype page that Gearheardt had slid under the inkpad on his desk. I had assumed it was personal and he had forgotten it.
“Dear Señor Gearheardt,” it read, “this is Sari. I am fine. I will be going to goodbye very soon. I am sorry to do something that has caused you much trouble, Angelica told me. The men here are very angry and will burn my place if I do not let them in. They are also angry because I feed the other parts of the men to the dogs in the street. Maybe this was not nice to do. But I am glad and maybe this is the equal right that you told me of in our conversation. To be angry. Next week I would be thirteen. It is nice in Cuba, yes? Sari.”
Isabella seemed friendlier now that Gearheardt was gone. She placed her hand gently on my sleeve. I didn’t think I could turn and face her.
“Gearheardt was to be Emperor of Mexico you know, Jack. He wanted to do that very bad. When I asked him why, he says that he likes living in Chapultepec Castle. He likes to be called His Excellency. And he says that when he is Emperor it’s goodbye to girls and donkeys. I do not know what he is talking about, but he is crazy, no?”
“He is insane.”
“But I like him very much.”
“He is insane.”
At the far end of the street, I saw the taxi squealing around the glorieta, the Impala close behind. They headed back at us. When the taxi passed, Gearheardt stuck his head out of the window and, grinning like an idiot, gave me a thumbs up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IS THIS THE LAST OF GEARHEARDT?
It would be an understatement to say I went to my office with trepidation the next morning. My intent was just to gut it out. I still had operations underway (with Rodrigo) that I felt were important. Even though Crenshaw had dismissed me from the agency in the whore’s room at Las Palomas, there were even odds that the whole thing would be covered up. Or they could, as the DCI warned, shoot me on sight.
Juanita greeted me warily. As I approached her desk, she shoved her paperwork into a single pile which she dropped in her desk drawer. She rose, which was unusual.
“Buenos dias, Señor Jack.”
“Buenos dias, Juanita.”
We stood facing one another for a moment. Her eyes, puffy and redrimmed, avoided me as if I were a too-bright light. She fidgeted with a button on her pink sweater.
“You look nice today, Jaunita.”
“Gracias, Señor Jack.” Now she looked at me, smiling slightly. “You look like the man who was shoot at and missed but sheet at and hit.”
I laughed politely. “Are you still taking English lessons from Corporal Weathers, Juanita?”
Juanita fidgeted with the button faster. I could see the black lacy brassier under her pink sweater where it was tightest. I loved her.
“The ambassador is to meet with you at ten o’clock, Señor Jack. If you need anything, I will get it for you.”
I started into what I assumed was still my office. “Thanks, Juanita. I’m fine. Just had a rough week.”
When I sat down at my desk, Juani
ta was at the door. “And Señor Pepe, he is okay?”
“Señor Gearheardt is fine too. Would you close my door please?”
My desk showed obvious signs of “intrusion and invasion.” I wasn’t surprised but tried to think if I had left behind anything of particular importance and decided I hadn’t.
I still had a dial tone, but, after thinking for a moment, realized I had no one to call. Eduardo wouldn’t be happy to hear from me. Crenshaw? No. My girlfriend at the Austrian embassy? Not likely. Mom? I didn’t feel like explaining the whole thing to her quite yet. Gearheardt? No way to reach him. Unless …
“Gearheardt, you rotten bastard, do you still have a tap in my office? Give me a call if you do.” I felt foolish talking to the walls.
But I knew when the light on my phone flashed it would be Juanita announcing my pal.
“Señor Pepe is on the line. He is—”
“He is insane, Juanita. I’ll take it. You hang up.”
Click.
“Gearheardt, are you in India yet?”
“Not yet, Jack. Got waylaid at the airport. The bastards winged me.”
“Who?”
“Somebody pissed off at me, I assume. I’m not a detail guy, Jack.”
“So are you okay? Where are you? Do you need help?”
“Thanks, Jack. Don’t need help right now. I’m still in the city. Some dive near the market. Not the Ritz, I can assure you. Ouch, dammit.”
“Gearheardt, let me get over there and give you a hand. I don’t want you dying. Mom would never forgive me. How do I get there?” It was rare that Gearheardt really needed help, and I had an appointment with the Ambassador in an hour and a half, but my pal was wounded and holed up in some hovel in a city where he wasn’t very popular.
“That was just Isabella pouring scalding water on my leg, Jack. These girls must be able to sit in boiling water. My ass is being cooked and they’re just wrestling around like little sea otters.”
“Gearheardt, are you in a tub with two or three girls, you rotten shit?”
“One just got out to get some lime for the beer, Jack. So there’s only two. Why do you ask?”
I was silent.
“Okay, Jack, if it makes your Boy Scout, Presbyterian heart feel better, I’m lying underneath a shack in mud hut town on dirty hay with cockroaches crawling all over my wounded leg. Feel better, now?”
“Gearheardt, we may have endangered the lives of hundreds or thousands of girls, alienated the Vatican, cut off the nuts of countless worthless men and started down the road to war with Cuba. Not to mention that I am headed into a meeting with a very angry ambassador this morning, where at the very least I will get my ass chewed from here to Sunday. You treat all that as if we had missed the return date on our library books.”
I heard Gearheardt speaking to someone. “Yes, it’s Jack. No, you can’t talk to him. And none of that lesbian crap. I’m trying to concentrate.” Splashing and whining sounds. “Okay, Jack. Remember that the men who lost their balls were deserving. The Vatican can take care of itself, and at least the girls know someone tried to do something for them. Believe me, I feel bad.”
“How did you get the message to call me?” I asked, wanting to change the subject before I blew up.
“The bug is connected to the com room at Las Palomas. Maria said you were talking to the walls asking me to call. Before you get all pissed off, I was going to call you anyway.”
“After you had a bath.”
“You’re a Puritan, Jack. Yes, after I had a bath. Isn’t there something more important we should be discussing?”
“I have no idea what to even ask you.”
“Here’s what you do. Ask Juanita for the folders I gave her. Take them to the meeting. She’ll also have a statement that basically exonerates you from any potential charges. You lay the folders on the table. You pass out the statement, get everyone to sign and then you leave. Take the folders with you after they sign. Clear enough?” He paused and I thought I heard a giggle. “I’ve been doing some research on our boys. The Ambassador and Daisy. Crenshaw and the donkey—”
“Crenshaw and the donkey?”
“Just do what I tell you, Jack. I don’t want to cause you trouble.”
Heaven forbid that should ever happen.
“I assume the folders contain this information about the Ambassador and Crenshaw.”
“You would assume that wouldn’t you?”
“So we end up blackmailers?”
“I like to think of it as being extortionists. Blackmailing seems so …”
“Tawdry?”
“Yeah, tawdry. This is a non-cash transaction. When you get back from the meeting, tell the wall to call me and I’ll ring you back. Good luck, Jack. You’re a champ.”
I couldn’t think of what to say to him. Long ago, in a bar in Vientiane, he had called me a champ and wished me luck. I didn’t see him again for three years.
“Gearheardt, why don’t you just tell me where you are? Let me at least help you get out of the country.”
“All arranged, Jackie. Tomorrow morning I’m off for India. Let’s call it a payback for Sari. Then I’m not sure. But I’ll call you. You know what they say about the girls in India, Jack—” A loud crash. “—oh shit!”
The line went dead. “Get me Gearheardt!” I yelled at the wall. “Come on, Maria. Get that bastard back on the line.” I remembered that I could call Las Palomas. When I finally reached Daisy, she heard me out and then connected me to the com room.
“Maria, can you call Gearheardt? It’s urgent!”
Maria sounded shaken. “He is not on the line, Señor Jack. He is not answering.”
“Where is he, Maria? Did he tell anyone? Who’s with him?”
“He sent the taxi for girls, Señor. I don’t think no one knows.”
I hung up and sat staring at the communications device Gearheardt had left for me, a wall with a bug in it. I wanted to panic, but couldn’t think of a direction to panic in. The feeling I had was Gearheardt slipping away again. So close and probably so totally screwed up.
“Juanita!”
I felt under my desk and extracted a piece of wood lightly glued to the leg brace. Triggering a switch inside that small opening swung the brace aside and let me grasp the butt of a Walther PPK, 9-millimeter, a weapon given to me by my mother after she fell in love with Sean Connery.
“Si, Señor.” Juanita stuck just her head into the office.
“Bring me the folders that Señor Gearheardt left with you.”
“But Señor Pepe—”
“There is no Señor Pepe. It’s Gearheardt. Bring me the folders.”
I shoved the pistol into my belt and buttoned my jacket. Meeting Juanita as she came back with the folders, I grabbed her arm and led her back to her desk.
“Call upstairs and tell the Ambassador that I’m on the way up.”
“But Jack, it’s not ten o’clock.”
Jack?
“Call him, Juanita.” I started down the hall toward the stairs, then turned and came back to her desk. “Juanita, I’m sorry if I’ve been angry with you. You may be a very loyal assistant and a friend. But you’ve been working with Crenshaw, the Ambassador and Gearheardt. I really don’t know if I can trust you.” I paused and breathed deep. “The black bra trick won’t work any more, Juanita. You’re not a Mexican bimbo. You’re a CIA operative. I just don’t …” There was really nothing to say. “Just call the Ambassador and tell him I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“Come in, Jack, come in.” The Ambassador sat at the end of the conference table. He had paused a cup of tea heading to his mouth. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray. On one side of the table sat Crenshaw, a butterfly bandage holding together a nasty gash above his right eye. He nodded and looked back to the window, open to the noisy street below.
“Care for tea, Jack? You can smoke if you want. I enjoy the blasted things.” The ambassador pointed toward a seat at the opposite end of the table. “Take th
at one if you wouldn’t mind, Jack. Makes it easier for us all to see one another.”
Under different circumstances, the ambassador was a man I would admire. He must have been catching hell from Washington but he was cool and collected and in control.
“Mr. Ambassador, I don’t really have time to—”
“Pardon me, Jack.” The ambassador looked at Crenshaw. “Major would you please shut that window. And latch it please. The equipment in the room won’t activate if the windows are open. Darwin,” he nodded to a large man standing by the door, “if you would step outside and close the door I would appreciate it.”
I had rushed into the room in such huff that I hadn’t noticed the ambassador’s bodyguard.
“Good now, Jack. Get’s a bit stuffy in here, but the soundproofing doesn’t seem to work unless all of the openings are latched. But you were saying you didn’t have time …”
“Where’s the Pygmy? He was supposed to be in this meeting. The issue of blame for the fiasco was to be discussed. You agreed to that.”
The Ambassador glanced at Crenshaw. “I’m afraid I don’t know his whereabouts, Jack. I’ve never met the man.”
“Then whose booster seat is that?” I pointed to a child’s plastic car seat in the chair across from Crenshaw.
Crenshaw stared at it as if it had dropped from the sky. The Ambassador hesitated. “Well it appears that a short person was in the room earlier,” he said.
In the silence that followed I heard a scurrying sound from under the table. After resisting the impulse for a moment, I ducked my head to see what (who?) was making the noise. There was nothing but Ambassador and CIA station chief legs and feet but just as I raised my head, the conference room door opened and then closed.
“Was the Pygmy under the table?” It pissed me off that I was being played with.
The Ambassador leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands under his chin, squinting down the table at me.
“I think, Jack, that a more germane issue is a young man in my embassy who would worry about pygmies dwelling under tables. The question ‘was the Pygmy under the table’ would seem to—”
Goodbye Mexico Page 31
