by Lou Cameron
~*~
Major Morales said he had no idea where Golondrina was but that he didn’t want to arrive late at the German legation, so they went with him after leaving a message for the girl at the desk. The legation was only a couple of blocks away, so they walked, with one corporal’s squad marching ahead of them and another escorting them from the rear. Captain Gringo asked the major if they were showing off or if there was something to worry about and the Honduran answered, “Both. Two Honduran officers have been assassinated in the past few weeks and we don’t mean to let it happen again.”
“Sounds like somebody doesn’t like you. Were the guys from our battalion, brigade or whatever?”
“No, as a matter of fact one was a navy man. My uncle, the general, says he has no idea who could have been responsible. But you know the British.”
He did indeed, since he’d worked for British Intelligence a couple of times in the past. He hadn’t liked it much. Grey-stoke of Whitehall tended to be careless with the lives of non-British subjects he recruited to pull an occasional thorn out of the lion’s paw. But he knew the British didn’t go in much for political assassination. If someone like Greystoke was worried about General Morales beefing up the local defenses, it didn’t seem logical to knock off officers that weren’t part of his clique instead of the general, himself. Of course, he hadn’t met the general, so the old boy could be holed up pretty good as he made his plans, whatever the hell they were. They probably didn’t include assassinating people he’d just hired, Captain Gringo hoped.
He saw they were nearing an imposing baroque mansion with the black and white imperial flag of Der Kaiser hanging over the doorway. As they got inside pistol range, Morales held up his hand to halt the parade. The troopers snapped to attention as Morales called over the noncom in charge and said, “While you and your men are waiting out here, I have a job for you. Captain Walker here is missing his, ah, laundress. Post a runner back at the hotel to bring word as soon as she returns. Meanwhile, send details to the women’s house of detention and the morgue just in case. Her name is Golondrina. She’s a nice-looking peon girl who looks about seventeen or so. She left the hotel wearing a blouse and peasant skirt with an ivory mantilla comb in her hair. Have I left anything out, Captain?”
Captain Gringo said, “No, and I thank you, Major.”
“Bueno. Shall we go in?”
They did.
Like most such functions, the ball just starting was already crowded and promised to be more so once the music started. The interior of the German legation was made of gilt and pale blue cake icing and if the pile on the maroon carpeting had been any deeper, they’d have needed machetes to walk across it. Major Morales led them to a drawing room off the cavernous ballroom, where the crowd of men, in and out of uniform, and women in gowns of every color of the rainbow were trying to ignore the huge threatening chandelier hanging over them as they held glasses and blew smoke in each other’s faces. The major led them through toward a big man with the same patch on his more imposing uniform who’d been chatting with a besashed civilian and a man in U.S. Navy whites. The major said, “Uncle Jesus, may I present Captain Walker and Lieutenant Verrier?”
Captain Gringo knew lots of Hispanics were named Jesus, but he didn’t know how seriously the general took his name, so he saluted. But the general put out his hand and said, “Por favor, we are not on duty now, my son. I am so happy to meet you at last. I have heard so much about you.”
As they shook hands the U.S. Navy J.G. smiled crookedly and said, “We’ve heard a lot about you, too, Walker. You look a lot like the posters we have out on the Ramapo.”
Captain Gringo smiled sweetly at him and asked, “Oh, is that your gunboat out there, Lieutenant?”
“Yeah, we heard you were aboard that coastal steamer. Consulate in Limon wired ahead. Unfortunately we got here after you’d disembarked.”
“Better luck next time.”
“We’re looking forward to it, Renegade.”
The general frowned and said, “I do not wish to be rude, Lieutenant, but I must remind you that you and your crew are guests in Honduras and that you are speaking to one of my officers,”
The J.G. nodded and said, “In that case I apologize, to you, sir.” And then he went away, looking mad enough to spit. The general chuckled and said, “Ah, Youth. One takes life so seriously then. Please do not trouble yourself to inform me you were innocent of the charges, Captain Walker. I have been following your career for some time now, and some of the other soldiers of fortune I recruited speak very highly of you, so the details of your brush with Yanqui law are of no concern to me. You are no doubt wondering what you are here for, no?”
“I know how to dance, sir, but I have heard a couple of versions of the current emergency.”
The general took him by the arm and, leaving Gaston with his nephew, led Captain Gringo over to a man the American recognized, facing them sideways as he talked to a man in German uniform and a nice-looking redhead in a low cut green satin gown the queen wouldn’t have approved of at all.
The general cut in to the three-way conversation to ask, “Mr. Greystoke, may I present Captain Walker of the Honduran Forces?”
Greystoke smiled at Captain Gringo and said, “We’re old friends,” as he held out his hand. Captain Gringo thought he’d overstated the case, but he shook anyway as General Morales said, “I was just about to explain the invasion you people and the Guatemalans are planning when I noticed you over here. Maybe you would like to explain it yourself?”
“Gladly. By the way Dick, this is M’selle Devoise from the French legation, and I don’t believe you’ve ever met Herr Oberst Von Kassel, the attaché here at the German legation.”
The Prussian clicked his heels but Captain Gringo was too busy kissing Mademoiselle’s hand to click back. General Morales said, “Forgive me, all, but I see someone else I must greet. I’ll talk to you about your heavy weapons company later, Captain Walker.”
As the general left, Greystoke of British Intelligence chuckled fondly and said, “I admire subtle threats. I don’t suppose you’d tell me if you’ve ever actually seen one of the perishing machineguns he keeps talking about, would you, Dick?”
“Maybe. You want to tell me how many Royal Marines you figure it will take to paint Honduras pink?”
“Oh, I’d say a battalion could manage, backed up with offshore sixteen inchers of course. How are you Germans planning to invade Honduras, Herr Oberst?”
Von Kassel looked confused, then brightened, and answered, “Zo, you make the joke, ja? What would Der Kaiser want with Honduras? Such a climate and such lazy people!”
Captain Gringo heard an orchestra starting up in the next room and asked the French girl if she’d like to dance. She said she’d be enchanted, so they left the German and the Britisher to play the faggy bullshit game they called diplomacy. As he led her out on the dance floor, they seemed to be the first couple dancing, so he showed off by sweeping her around rather grandly while there was still room. She laughed, “Not so fast, M’sieur. It’s early and we are in the tropics.”
He slowed down and said, “Sorry. Just wanted to get as far as I could from those sparring partners.”
She laughed again, “I was hoping to be rescued. Why do you suppose they enjoy fencing with words like that, ah, Dick?”
“Maybe they don’t want to skin their knuckles. Everybody knows the Brits and Germans hate each other’s guts. Yet they invited Greystoke anyway. By the way, if I’m Dick, who are you, Mademoiselle?”
“Yvonne, of course. I work as a secretary at the French legation.”
“Oh? Somebody must have brought you then, right?”
“Oui, but I’m not that kind of a secretary. I came with my, how you say, boss, and his wife.”
“In that case you’ll naturally need an escort home?”
“Perhaps. It’s early yet. Do you always rush things like this, Dick?”
He sheepishly smiled down at her as they swirled pa
st the bandstand and said, “Not always. I’m a little out of practice talking to ladies. I’ve been, ah, associating with a rougher crowd for a while. As a matter of fact I haven’t been to a formal function like this since ... never mind.”
“I see you have not forgotten how to dance, though. You do not have to work at amusing me, Dick. I find your company quite pleasant, now that you have slowed down, hein?”
He laughed and twirled her on and she was right. It felt good to be all spiffed up and dancing with a beautiful girl. So who the hell cared how it all turned out? The odds were he’d never see her again, in or out of that rustling silk dress; but meanwhile she floated like a feather in his arms and smelled of expensive perfume and clean underwear. He told himself not to think about her underwear. He could feel with his hand on the back of Yvonne’s bodice that she wore a small corset to cinch her wasp waist and there didn’t seem to be anything under the low front of her dress but a pair of very lovely knockers that played peek-a-boo over the silky green folds between them as they bounced in time to the music. The orchestra was probably German, too. He detected a lot of oomp pa-pa despite it being a new American two-step. He didn’t mind. Yvette wouldn’t have bounced like that if they’d been playing it right.
The dance floor started getting crowded and she must have noticed they were oomp pa-pa-ing too, for she suddenly asked, “Could we sit the next one out, Dick? I’m sorry, but it’s terribly warm tonight and ...”
“Hey, it’s not your fault we’re in the tropics. I see a terrace door over there. I’ll park you out under the moon and see if I can find us a couple of drinks. What would you like, Rhine wine?”
“No thank you. We hate the Germans, too. Gin and tonic will suit me fine. It seems to go with the climate much better than it sounds.”
He nodded and led her out to the terrace and there really was a moon, albeit not a full one, damn it. He said something about those drinks but she put a hand on his sleeve and said, “Don’t bother. It’s cooler out here than I expected and if we’re not careful, some Boche will pester me again. That awful Van Kassel seemed to be trying to force his way on me as I was speaking to that English gentleman. Greystoke was his name, non?”
“Yeah, and it’s up for grabs if he’s a gentleman.”
“Oh? I thought the two of you were friends.”
“We’ve met before. You don’t really want to hear the story of my life, Yvette. Tell me yours.”
She laughed, radiant in the moonlight, and said, “You’d hardly find the story of my life interesting, Dick. I’m just a secretary. I’ve never escaped from a convent or eloped with a gypsy lover. I’m just ... me.”
“Okay, tell me how you learned shorthand. Do you use Greg or Pittman?”
“You are teasing me. A soldier like you must meet all sorts of more interesting people. I tell you I have led a perfectly ordinary life. As a matter of fact, it has been trés fatigue. That is why I volunteered to come over here to a tropic post. I thought I would find adventure and romance.”
“How’ve you been doing so far?”
“No adventure, and as for romance, I would like to know what that gleam in your eye is hinting at.”
He smiled sheepishly and offered, “Sorry. Like I said, I’m out of practice with nice girls.”
“Oh? And what have you and the bad girls been up to, Dick?”
He wished she hadn’t said that. Not because he didn’t enjoy her doubtless innocent flirtation. He’d been enjoying that, too, and it brought back old times. But speaking of bad girls, where the hell was Golondrina right now? Those soldiers would have come in to him if they’d found her in jail or in the morgue, he was sure. Maybe she was at the hotel. She had to be some damned place!
He was aware that Yvonne was saying something and when he listened in, sure enough, she was telling him the story of her life and she’d been right, it wasn’t all that interesting.
But it was pleasant lounging on a terrace with a pretty girl that wasn’t putting any pressure him, one way or the other. He didn’t figure to get anywhere with her, but she didn’t want to set him up for an ambush or steal his poke, so it tended to even out on the plus side. He wanted her, but he wanted lots of things he couldn’t have, so he didn’t worry about it and, as she saw he wasn’t going to leap on her, she began to relax and drop her coquettish guard. He liked that, too. She was as refreshing as a cool swim after a long hot day on the trail. It didn’t matter what she was saying. It was just nice to listen to an educated natural talker with no axe to grind. She stopped and asked, uncertainly, “Why are you smiling at me like that, Dick? Am I boring you?”
He shook his head and answered, “You couldn’t if you recited the alphabet. I told you it’s been a while.”
“Pooh, you are amused by my French accent, non?”
“You don’t have a French accent next to some people I know. My own French is trés lowzay, but I know enough to suspect you and my pal, Gaston, didn’t come from the same neighborhood.”
As if he’d heard his name being paged, Gaston came out on the terrace, saying, “Ah, there you are, Dick.”
Captain Gringo introduced them, wishing he spoke some lingo that Gaston understood and Yvettte didn’t. Gaston wasn’t being a pest, though. He said, “I just thought you would like to know the, ah, servant we were concerned about is all right. One of the soldiers just came from the hotel and your ... valet seems to be waiting in your room to help you undress when you wish to retire.”
Captain Gringo thanked him, not daring to meet his sardonic eyes as he did so, and Gaston went back inside. Yvonne said, “My, he does seem to be from the side of the Seine I was never allowed to visit, doesn’t he? Why was he being so sarcastic about your poor valet?”
“Was he being sarcastic? He always talks that way. I told you he had no couth. You were telling me about graduating from the Sorbonne.”
“Was I? That part of my life is not something one wishes to dwell on. Let’s say that like everyone I was young and foolish and thought I knew more than my parents, hein?”
“Oh? Then you were fibbing about not running away with a gypsy, eh?”
She looked away and murmured, “A gypsy might have made more sense, now that one looks back on it. Do I have to go into it, Dick?”
“Of course not. It’s none of my business. I’ve done some pretty dumb things myself. They go with growing up.”
She hesitated and then said, “Oh, it sounds more wicked than it was if I say nothing at all, doesn’t it?”
“That’s okay. Mystery women are intriguing.”
“I know all too well what sort of a past you men think we mystery women have. If you must know, I am a divorced woman. Does that shock you?”
“Not as much as finding out you were married might. Sometimes things just don’t work out, right?”
“Oh, you are most understanding. Pierre and I had nothing in common. My mother was right about him, even if I was too stubborn to see it until I made a fool of myself.”
“I don’t think you made a fool of yourself. You got out of a bad deal. Pierre was the fool if he let you go.”
She laughed uncertainly and said, “You are most gallant, in a rather grotesque way, but I am already sorry I told you. I know you men think a divorced woman is, how you say, easy?”
He didn’t think he ought to tell her that as a matter of fact most of the divorcees he’d met had been. He supposed the ones who didn’t want to let you know they weren’t virgins just didn’t say anything about it one way or the other.
She suddenly shivered, despite the warmth of the tropic night, and said she’d talked too much and wanted to dance some more. So he took her back inside and they did. She’d stiffened up on him after slipping up and telling on herself like that. He wished there was some way to reassure her, but he couldn’t think of any. It would probably hurt her feelings if he said it didn’t matter one way or the other if she gave on the first date or not. He had his bed partner for the night, like it or not, and he didn
’t intend to hang around long enough to ask her for another evening of her time.
He had no way of knowing that his indifference was something she was hardly accustomed to, or that it was making her wonder if she’d put on enough talcum after bathing that evening.
She had. The little musky genital odor that the cleanest female gave off after a few hours’ activity in the tropics just added a pleasant tang to her French perfume. The perfume masters of Grasse allowed for human body odor as they blended their teasing scents so that a woman wearing French perfume got sexier while a prim Victorian Miss doused with lavender cologne just got sweaty. Yvonne Devoise danced a lot sexier than most Victorian ladies, too. As a born flirt she couldn’t help it, although as a girl from a good family, she didn’t seem to mean to rub the inside of her thighs against his on the turns and she was too subtle for the pelvic bumps that could jar a partner with a semi-erection. But she did have natural curiosity—so as Captain Gringo reversed direction after a spin she made delicate pelvic contact and was somewhat alarmed to discover he didn’t have a semi-erection!
She was quite annoyed. As a lady, she of course had no intention of going to bed with him. At least, not tonight. As a woman who was used to being wanted, she wondered what she was doing wrong.
She hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Captain Gringo was enjoying himself at the ball. But he had a lot on his mind. He was wondering where the hell Golondrina had been all this time and just why the Morales clan had been so choosy with their invitations. He spotted other officers wearing the same special patch on the dance floor, but not as many as he’d expected. He supposed Lefty O’Toole, the only soldier of fortune from San Jose he knew on sight, had been left out because the big Irishman tended to be a diamond in the rough and it was a pretty classy affair. A couple of guys wearing the same outfit had Northern European features, but as he didn’t know them he had to take it on faith that they were guys like him and Gaston.
He didn’t see Gaston on the floor. He hoped the horny little Frenchman hadn’t cut out with some dame. The general had said they were going to get together later to talk about their new duties, and the major had an enlisted escort waiting outside to take them back to the hotel. Captain Gringo intended to pass on that last bit if the girl he was dancing with let him take her home. But it would be polite to let the major know instead of just vanishing like a ghost.
