by Lou Cameron
Bardo nodded and explained, “In time General Morales hopes to make his special unit a full brigade. But it is difficult to get trained technicians such as yourselves and for the moment our government has only authorized him one battalion as an experiment.”
Captain Gringo kept his voice light as he asked, “Just what sort of an outfit is your general trying to put together, Lieutenant?”
Bardo shrugged and said, “I’m sure I don’t know, senores. As I said, I am infantry. We have never had a machinegun battalion before.”
Gaston blinked in surprise and said. “Mon Dieu! Neither has the Kaiser! Are we to understand you are talking about a whole battalion; three companies of machinegun crews?”
“Yes, with one battery of field guns attached, senores. All units to be mounted like field artillery and ready to strike anywhere on a moment’s notice. At least, that’s the way I’ve heard it. I said I didn’t really understand it.”
Captain Gringo was beginning to. He realized the young shavetail wasn’t privy to the whole plan, so he chose his words as he asked, “Then what we’re talking about is a rapid deployment force attached to a brigade of regular foot soldiers?”
Bardo wasn’t dumb. He was just trusting. He said, “Exactly so, senores, and I must say I see no great advantage, meaning no disrespect to General Morales who no doubt knows what he’s doing.”
Neither of the soldiers of fortune answered, so young Bardo asked them; “Could either of you perhaps tell me why we need a heavy strike force that the rest of the Brigade can’t possibly keep up with?”
A stupid question deserved a stupid answer, so Captain Gringo answered, “I guess General Morales figures that should there be another invasion attempt a hard hitting heavily armed special force could get there fastest with the mostest and hold the line until the rest of you guys can catch up.”
Bardo shrugged and said that must be it. Naturally, not suspecting any treachery, he couldn’t see how Morales and his clique meant to work it. Bardo, and probably most of the officers in the Honduran Army, seemed to be loyal to the moderate government in power. But Captain Gringo knew the idealistic junior officer would never believe them if they leveled with him about the all too obvious plot. If it had been obvious to any of the decent Hondurans they’d have shot General Morales as a traitor by now. So they had to think he was a good guy, and they wouldn’t believe a couple of knockaround guys they didn’t know in the first place and likely had down as hired thugs in the second.
Captain Gringo hadn’t been paying much attention to the passing scenery, since one banana port looked a lot like any other and he’d been expecting to wind up at some sort of military base anyway. So he was surprised when the carriage came to a halt in front of a baroque hotel made of strawberry cake icing and facing a cathedral made out of the same crud across the park-like square. Lieutenant Bardo said, “You have been quartered here for the moment, senores. The tailor who is to make your uniforms will call on you later, after la siesta. I am surprised you have no luggage.”
“We, ah, left Costa Rica in a hurry. I’m not complaining about that nice looking hotel, Lieutenant, but I’m a little surprised, too. I thought I was supposed to head up a heavy weapons company. Don’t you usually keep those things on army posts?”
“Of course. But as I thought I explained, General Morales’ special units are not formed yet, and it was his suggestion you and the other new technical officers would be more comfortable here at the hotel until you had your uniforms and a few days’ rest.”
Captain Gringo said he understood as he thanked the poor stupid kid for the buggy ride and helped Golondrina down. Bardo offered to go in with them, but Captain Gringo said he knew how to check into a hotel where he already had a reservation, so Bardo saluted and ordered his coachman to drive him back to his barracks. As the carriage and the jogging troopers tore off down the avenue to make it back in time for la siesta, Captain Gringo turned to Gaston and asked, “Can you believe this? They have to have at least one copy of Machiavelli in the local library!”
Gaston snorted and opined, “Merde alors, Machiavelli would not have the balls to behave so outrageously!”
Golondrina didn’t get it. But she waited until they’d gone in, signed the register, and were alone in a luxurious room with bath and balcony before she asked, “Deek, is this General Morales a bad person? I did not follow what you and Gaston meant about Senor Machiavelli.”
He knew he was probably wasting his time, but as he threw his hat on a chair in the corner he said, “On second thought, Gaston’s right and I owe Machiavelli an apology. The guys Morales is duping are too trusting to be allowed outside to play. That poor simp, Bardo, just can’t see why the general’s not only hiring his own private army but quartering them separately from those loyal to the government.”
She looked uncertain and asked, “Do you wish for to sleep with soldados instead of me, Deek?”
“Not really. As an officer I rate a private bedroom on or off post, so don’t pout.”
She looked relieved as she started to undress, asking, “I do not wish for to pout I wish for to make love during la siesta. But I shall never understand all this military talk.”
He didn’t think many people in this country understood a hell of a lot about the military facts of life. So he took off his clothes and tore off a quickie with Golondrina while he digested the situation with the part of his mind he didn’t screw with. The general probably thought he was pretty slick. He’d had them met by an officer not connected with his plot and had them checked in and not likely to run into anyone else for the next few hours. He was letting them see the comfortable advantages of working for him before he made his pitch, probably this evening after la siesta.
The two of them were just getting down to some serious screwing when there came a knock on the door. Captain Gringo silenced his adelita with a warning look and rolled off her to head for the door, snagging his shirt and gun rig along the way. He held the shirt over his private parts as well as the gun when he cracked the door open to see who it was. It was a well-rounded lady wearing a red satin kimono and blond hair. But he could see she was really a brunette, since the kimono was hanging open. She smiled at him and said, “Hello, my name is Dolores and I have been sent for to make you most comfortable during la siesta, compliments of General Morales.”
He laughed and said, “Tell him I think he has swell taste as well as a highly developed notion of hospitality, but I’ve already got somebody, no offense. My friend down in room 304 might be lonely, though.”
The pneumatic pseudo-blond shook her head and said, “No my friend, Maria, is already with Senor Verrier. Are you sure you would not like to play three in a bed? I am bisexual, and very perverse.”
He laughed again and said, “I’m sure you are, but no thanks. My pal in 304 is a Frenchman, as well as a sex maniac, though, so don’t go away mad.”
Dolores laughed and flounced off down the hall as Captain Gringo shut and locked the door again. He went back to bed with Golondrina and as he dropped his shirt and gun rig to take her in his arms again she asked, “Was that puta you were talking to as pretty as me?”
“Nobody is as pretty as you,” he said. But it was a white lie, because Dolores had been as pretty as hell, as well as a novelty. He hadn’t taken her up on the offer partly to avoid hurting Golondrina and partly because he didn’t like the scoundrel who’d sent her. Did General Morales really take him for such a don’t-give-a-damn guy? He probably did. He probably had complete contempt for his recruited thugs as well as the decent Hondurans who trusted him. Captain Gringo had met guys like General Morales before and they all seemed to think they were smarter than anyone else in the world.
They weren’t. A sneak didn’t have to be smarter than the people who trusted him. He simply had to be a sneak. Very few people expected a house guest to steal the silver or a comrade in arms to stab them in the back. So the sneak wasn’t smarter. The sneak was a rat. A guy who was really smarter than every
body else in the world would have everything he wanted without having to lie, cheat, and steal.
Captain Gringo had no idea how you could do that. But he didn’t think he was smarter than everybody else in the world.
He didn’t have to be, he just had to be smarter than General Morales and his clique, and it was looking easier by the minute. Guatemala was probably their best bet. He and Gaston weren’t wanted in Guatemala and the border wasn’t far. Golondrina was going to be a problem. Jungle running was rough enough without excess baggage and he knew Gaston was going to chide him for not being practique. But they’d have to take her along. Sometimes what Gaston called his sentimental streak made as much common sense as all the worldly bullshit about looking out for numero uno. The sweet little moron was getting to be a drag, but a lost and wailing waif stranded in a strange town far from home wasn’t something a smart knockaround guy left behind for people trailing him to notice.
Maybe they wouldn’t have to leg it up the Mosquito Coast through the mangroves and sawgrass. They still had some money. Nobody seemed to be watching them too closely. Gaston seemed to know half the tramp skippers plying Latin American waters, and Puerto Cortes was a busy little port.
He was so busy thinking that he forgot he was screwing until the little mestiza gasped, “Enough, por favor! You are wearing me out with your passion, Querido!”
Was he? He rolled off her, half erect, and reached out for a smoke as he decided to save his next come for later. They had the whole siesta to kill and he knew” she’d want more before it was time to get dressed and go out to see the sights. As he lit his claro, Golondrina caressed him and marveled, “Oh, Jesus Maria y Jose, it is still half up! I am so happy you never seem to get enough of me, Querido. But I am terribly tired. Will you suffer if I catch the forty winks?”
“Go ahead. I’ll just have to tough it through somehow.”
She kissed him, rolled over, and started to snore. Golondrina snored softly, like a purring kitten, and he’d thought it was cute for a while. But by now he’d slept more with her than he had a hell of a lot of women he’d found more interesting. Or had he?
“They’re right. We’re no damned good,” he muttered as he blew a smoke ring and stared thoughtfully at the tawny hourglass of her sleeping form. The first couple of times he’d had her in broad daylight that firm little body had been exiting as hell and he could still see, objectively, that she was built a lot nicer than a lot of those gals in the Police Gazette he’d jerked off over in his youth. He liked her. He owed her, and he knew he couldn’t desert her until they got somewhere she’d be safe. But he knew it wouldn’t kill him, now, if she decided to vanish in a puff of smoke.
He grinned crookedly as he patted her rounded rump with his free hand and told himself to look at the bright side. He probably wasn’t missing as much as he’d thought he was when he’d had to run for his life and forget about that girl back home in the States. By now she’d probably forgotten him, too, and married somebody else. He wondered if she snored and if her husband was hankering for something strange. If she’d married a man, he had to be. Women probably felt the same way. Maybe if he just sat tight, Golondrina would leave him for a bull fighter or something.
There was a knock on the door that Captain Gringo recognized as Gaston’s signal. He took his gun with him anyway as he went to answer it, but it really was Gaston. The little Frenchman ducked inside, glanced over at the nude across the room and murmured, “Very nice. I was wondering what you saw in the child.”
“Never mind that, you old goat. The last I heard you had two broads of your own to spend la siesta with. What are you doing fully dressed and on your feet?”
“I told them I’d be right back. I thought we’d better compare notes while we have time. We may have company after la siesta, non?”
“Yeah, Bardo said something about some tailors coming by to measure us for uniforms. But what notes have we got to compare? I haven’t talked to anybody but Golondrina since we came up to these rooms.”
“I envy you. My pretty one is built sloppy and the one with a serviceable cunt has a face that would stop a clock. Have you looked out the window, lately?”
“No. Should I?”
“I will save you the trouble. It’s not a good idea to move the blinds in any case. This hotel’s been staked out. There are large rough types in civilian dress lounging about the park across the way.”
“Under a tropic sun, during la siesta?”
“That’s what I thought. I told the whores they sent to watch us that I was going to get a paper. I went to a hall window fronting on the back of the building. They have the alley staked out, too.”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “Okay, Morales is protecting his small investment. Do you know if any of the other soldiers of fortune he recruited are here at this hotel?”
“The whores say there are and they should know. But screw the rogues on our side. Why are those other rogues watching us?”
“I don’t think they’re watching us. Morales wants to make sure we don’t get thick with any Honduran officers he hasn’t gotten around to corrupting. If anyone from the loyal outfits decides to pay a courtesy call on the new comrades in arms they may have heard about the general’s goons will no doubt head them off and tell them we’re a military secret or something.”
“Does not this strike you as a bit crude, Dick?”
“Hell, the whole thing’s more than a bit crude. But when did they start fancy south of Laredo? Remember the time we first met? Those Mexican Rurales had us up against the wall just for being a couple of guys they didn’t know. And the Mexican dictatorship’s considered smooth, for Latin America.”
“Oui, now that you remind me, we have met some trés rude people in our time. But what are we going to do about the species we seem to be dealing with at the moment?”
“There’s nothing we can do, right now. You’d better really take a paper back to your room with you. They probably sent those whores to spy as well as screw.”
“Mais oui, that would account for the pedestrian screwing. By the way, the pretty one with the sloppy box has a faint British accent.”
Captain Gringo frowned and said, “Dolores? I didn’t notice, but we were speaking Spanish, so I could have missed it.”
“I did not. She and the ugly one like to chat girlishly in a. somewhat crowded bed and during the slap-and-tickle I noticed the blond dropped her H in any language. What do you suppose it means, Dick?”
Captain Gringo shrugged and answered, “It means she started whoring in the east end of London, most likely. Hell, remember that Japanese whore in Manaus and the Greek girl in San Jose?”
“Very fondly. But the last English whore we met worked for Greystoke of British intelligence, non?”
“Oh, shit. Next you’ll be telling me there’s something to the story about the Brits planning to invade Honduras. Why the hell should Whitehall care if Morales pulls off this piss-pot coup or not? Why the hell should we care if Whitehall does? Go on back and stay cool. I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out the nearest exit.”
“Ah, great minds do run in the same channels. I shall march back with a paper and a gallant smile. But enjoying either one of those cows is another matter. What should I tell the British spy, if she tries to pump me?”
“That you’re totally dedicated to General Morales, of course. No matter who she’s really working for, Morales is the guy who sent her to spy on us.”
~*~
When the siesta ended at three that afternoon, Captain Gringo gave Golondrina some money and told her to go out and buy some more ladylike duds. An officer’s adelita was supposed to look decent and he wanted her out of the way for a while. She’d just left when, as promised, a fussy little tailor and his assistant came knocking on the door to take his measure. They showed him pictures of the spiffy khaki kit he’d be wearing as a heavy weapons officer of Honduras. He noticed it was slightly different from the one Lieutenant Bardo had been wearing earlier t
hat morning. He didn’t say anything. They could be in on more than tailoring and he didn’t need to be told why Morales wanted his own guys to be able to recognize one another at a glance when the balloon went up. But, Jesus, didn’t the Honduran government have any security men with eyes?
He was standing in his shirt and pants with the assistant’s hand up his crotch when a major in the same new outfit came in, grinning as he held out his hand and said, “Buenos Dias, Captain Walker. I am Hernan Morales, your battalion commander. You of course will be commanding Battery B under me.”
Captain Gringo shook with him as he smiled thinly and asked, “Any relation to General Morales, Major?”
“Of course. He is my uncle. Los Morales are a military family. My brother, Captain Morales, is to be in charge of Battery D. They have the really heavy weapons. The new French field guns. We will show the British, eh?”
Captain Gringo knew he was probably being foolish to mention it, but on the other hand they wouldn’t have wanted to hire him if they’d thought he was a total idiot, so he said, “I’ve been meaning to ask somebody about that. You don’t share any border with Great Britain, Major. How are they supposed to invade Honduras without invading Guatemala first?”
Morales laughed and said, “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Did not they tell you that Guatemala is in on it with the British?”
“Nope. I thought Guatemala was an independent country. When did they join the British Empire, Major?”
“About three years ago, although they don’t seem to know it yet. Guatemala is a most annoying country. We’ve had, let me think, about a dozen minor wars and a couple of really big ones with them since the Spanish colonies declared their independence early in this century.”
“Really? Any particular reason or do you guys just like to fight?”
Morales shrugged and said, “Honduras wishes only to be left alone. But you see, in the Spanish days, all of Central America was governed by the Viceroy in Guatemala City. After we got rid of the Spanish, and spent some time discussing new borders with guns, we Hondurans considered the matter settled, but the despotic Guatemalan government keeps insisting on what they regard as an inherited right to govern all Central America as the old colonial captain-generalcy did. They say we had no right to leave the Central American Federation they proclaimed back in ’23. They insist Honduras is part of their hegemony, as they call it. It would be an amusing joke if they didn’t keep sending men with guns across our border every few years. How many rounds a minute does a Maxim gun fire, by the way?”
