by Barry, Mike
He couldn’t lose. All that he had to do was to keep the search parties going, cover every alley in Havana, which he could do with a telephone and meanwhile stay under the perfect security which was afforded him by his office and his rights as a public official. He represented the government of the country; in his defense all force could be exerted and against that what could the American do? He had no troops, armaments, possessions, plan. All that he had was an imperfect knowledge of the situation, so could it be more than a matter of time until Delgado closed in on him? No. It could not. It could not be, the situation was totally in control, he had everything in hand and why then, Delgado thought, having reached this completely optimistic and absolutely true assessment of the situation … why was he shaking like this? Why am I so frightened? he asked himself.
Because—the perfectly reasonable interior voice of the old revolutionary he had carried around inside himself like a jack-in-the-box for fifteen years said—because, the old revolutionary told him, the American is of a type with whom you have never dealt before.
That’s ridiculous, he said. I was in the mountains.
You were in the mountains; a lot of people were with you in the mountains. You were sustained there by others. Also, you had faith which is something that you do not have now. You had a deep and persistent belief in the feeling that you were right.
That has nothing to do with it.
It has everything to do with it. You had an ideology then, you were fired by political idealism. What are you fired by now except greed?
Idealism has nothing to do with it either, he told the old revolutionary. Idealism is for the young or for the disenfranchised. It has no connection to those who have or are near power. Which is the situation that applies to me now.
That is why you are a fraud, Delgado. You are no longer what you were. You have been abandoned, you have completely abandoned yourself.
I have abandoned nothing.
You have abandoned everything.
I see a reasonable chance to make a new life for myself, he told the old revolutionary. The drugs can give me a way to a new life. It is not as if I am doing anything that would not be done otherwise. Americans are deeply involved in the drug culture, the people who sell it are merely answering a human need. Is it wrong if I get some of this for myself? It will change nothing. It is not as if I am taking drugs myself or I am creating a sickness that does not exist.
You are a liar, Delgado, the old revolutionary said. You are a cheat, you are a fraud and you are also very frightened. And do you know why you are frightened? Because you no longer are held up by idealism, by a series of beliefs. That is why you felt no fear in the mountains and why you are dying inside this time. Because you have become one with the Americans. It is not belief but merely the lust for money which is driving you now.
That is insane foolishness. You are talking to me like a schoolboy.
All idealists are schoolboys, Delgado. Why are you sweating? Why are you shaking so, why are you terrified of what the American, despite all the protection around you, might do to you? I will tell you. It is because in the mountains you felt no guilt, you knew that you were on the side of justice, and now you do not have that sense. You are guilty. What is holding you up now, Delgado? What do you have other than guilt?
The revolution is finished. Idealism is finished.
This revolution is finished. But the revolution as an abstract goes on forever. You have fallen away, the government has fallen away, but that does not mean that the revolution no longer exists. Just as in 1958, it is up there in the mountains. But you can no longer seek it, can you? You are crippled.
Go away, he said to the voice, I do not wish to continue this further.
Do you think that I really can go away, Delgado? I am yourself, I am as much a part of you as you are.
Nevertheless I want you to go away. I want no more part of this.
But you do, the old revolutionary said, you were the one who summoned me up, Delgado. I can do nothing unless you want me to speak.
Why won’t you leave me alone?
It was your decision, Delgado. All along the choices were yours. You have no one else to blame; you cannot pass off the responsibility.
Enough! Delgado screamed. Enough: get away from me! And the old revolutionary laughed, he laughed maniacally through all the alleys of Delgado’s skull and he rose from the desk to seize the old revolutionary by the throat and shake him to death and only then, only then did he realize that the revolutionary was indeed inside but the screaming had been outside and two security guards posted outside the door had come in to look at him with faces as blank as dishes, as puzzled as the animals that had scattered before them in the mountains fifteen years ago, the mountains that he could still see before him … and would never touch again. Finally, he went to the phone.
IX
Wulff awoke from a clotted doze on the floor to the shrieking of the telephone. Half suspended in a dream he thought for a moment that he was back in the precinct, doing desk duty, taking an emergency call. Your girl is dead, someone was saying to him, your girl is dead, and he awoke fully, bellowing, to find that he was in the room with Stevens and that it was Stevens reaching for the telephone, not he. The man’s face was coarse with sleep but his eyes were alert. He looked at Wulff and made a motion indicating that Wulff should settle back and, breathing in a shallow fashion, he did. It came back to you, all of it, sooner or later. He would be living with one emergency call forever.
“Yes,” Stevens was saying into the phone. “Yes, everything’s all right. I was going to call you in just a few minutes. Everything worked out. No, the helicopter is ditched.”
He paused, listened to something coming over the phone. It was a loose, syrupy babble with occasional peaks and Stevens withdrew the telephone from his ear, shaking his head at the sound, blinking and rubbing a hand over his free ear. “No,” he said, “he’s dead. I’m afraid that he was killed in an exchange of gunfire but we were able to get him anyway. They’re both dead. Yes, both of them. I was able to get the copter down somehow and walk away from it. It was in the dark; I can’t give you the exact location but it’s somewhere pretty near here.”
He paused again, looked at the wall, eyes dead. “Yes,” he said, “that would be a very good idea. I’ll get over there myself, don’t send anyone here. It’s best if you just let me get over by myself; I’ll be there shortly,” and then hung up the phone with a clatter, pushed it away from him and stood, backing his calves into the bed for balance. “He doesn’t believe a word of it,” he said to Wulff.
“That was Delgado?”
“Of course it was Delgado. He doesn’t believe that you’re dead; he doesn’t believe that the policeman is dead. I don’t even think he believes that he was talking to me. He wants me to come right over and see him.”
“Well,” Wulff said, “you can go over and see him.”
“He’s no fool. You’re all wrong if you take this man for a fool. Delgado knows what the hell is likely to happen.”
“Does he?” Wulff said, “then why isn’t he sending someone over to escort you?”
Stevens started to say something and then hesitated. He shook his head, his eyes became abstracted. “I guess he trusts me,” he said, “also he’s trying to attract as little attention, make as few waves as possible. This isn’t exactly a government-sanctioned project you know.”
“You mean he’s freelancing.”
“Probably. He’s probably doing that.”
“If he’s freelancing there’s only a minimum amount of troops he can throw into this. Also, he’s not likely to get much help, is he?”
“He’s no fool,” Stevens said again, “I’m telling you, he knows what he’s doing.”
“I’ve been dealing with people who know what they’re doing. It doesn’t help them.”
“All right,” Stevens said, “I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. That’s pretty stupid, isn’t it? You’re the one holding the
gun. I don’t want to fight this out. What do you want to do?”
“I think we ought to go over and see him,” Wulff said.
“Just walk in there, the two of us? Do you really think that we’d get two steps into the building? They’d kill you.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“I don’t understand you,” Stevens said. “We can’t walk unarmed into that building and expect to get into Delgado’s office.”
“I didn’t suggest being unarmed,” Wulff said.
Stevens’s glance swung over to the drawer in which the armaments had been and then back to Wulff. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “That’s no real firepower.”
“There may be enough. You were the one who said that he’s freelancing this thing out, remember? He wants to draw as little attention as possible. Probably no one ringing that building, none of the security force knows what’s going on.”
“That’s crazy,” Stevens said, “that’s absolutely crazy. You can’t take this man.”
“Can’t I?” Wulff said. He looked at Stevens in level fashion. “Are you sure of that? I took you.”
Stevens held his gaze for a moment and then, convulsively, looked away. “All right,” he said. “It might work. But Delgado isn’t me.”
“Yes he is,” Wulff said.
“I doubt it.”
“Delgado works for the highest bidder too,” Wulff said, “and he’s freelancing. There’s no one behind him. I detect if I may say so a certain absense of conviction … he doesn’t understand drugs, you see. All that he understands is money.”
“What do you want?” Stevens said. “What exactly are you after?”
“I want my valise back,” Wulff said. “I went to a lot of trouble to get that valise and then they hijacked it away from me. I still consider it my property. I’m getting a little tired of losing valises full of smack. The last one that was stolen from me cost about ten people their lives. You’d think that they’d learn their lesson by now, wouldn’t you? But they’ve got to learn it over and over again. The turnover in the world is fantastic.”
“All right,” Stevens said, “all right then,” and began to pull himself together. He went to the small closet, took out a set of clothes, began to dress. “I’ve got no choice, do I? I’ve got to come along.”
“Of course you’ve got to come along,” Wulff said. “You’re the one who’s going to get us into the building.” He went to the small table where he had left the armaments for the night and carefully began to check them over, checking the stocks, the action of the triggers. Everything seemed to work. Stevens finished dressing and went to the door, stood there in a reluctant position, one hand on the knob.
“He wants to see me now,” he said. “I guess that we should be going.”
“I guess we should,” Wulff said. He scooped up the pistols casually, began to fit them into various pockets. Thirty-two caliber, they hardly made a noticeable bulge anywhere yet at close range they would be as deadly and effective as machine gun fire. For the first time since he had boarded the plane in Las Vegas he was really armored again; there was a feeling of security in that. The gun, that was all they understood, there was no other argument which could draw pity or fear from them, and so if that was what it came down to, then it was that with which he would confront them. Stevens stood by the door, looking at him, his glance curiously lustreless. “I don’t like this,” he said.
“I don’t like it either,” Wulff said. “I just want my valise back.”
“He’s a deadly man. It’s a deadly business.”
“You don’t want to go there?” Wulff said. He looked at Stevens directly. “Then what use are you tome?”
“When you put it that way—”
“I haven’t decided what to do with you yet,” Wulff said. “I can’t decide if you’re to be trusted or not. Probably that doubt will always exist. So if you can’t be of any use to me, I can settle out the problem right now.”
“I’m sick of being threatened,” Stevens said, the lustrelessness passing down from eyes to voice. “I’ve been threatened for years, Wulff. I’m so tired of it. I can’t go on living this way anymore. There’s got to be some peace. I came to Havana for peace.”
“All of you people are crazy,” Wulff said. “Right down the line you don’t want to be involved in what you’re involved in but you’ll do it, won’t you? Of course you will. You love it; you wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t have defeat, Stevens. You’d have to face up and accomplish something, admit feeling, have pain if you couldn’t hang onto defeat. Come on,” he said, “let’s get going.”
“I’m not afraid,” Stevens said, not moving. “Right now, this minute, I’m not afraid. A minute from now I might be but now I’m all right. You ought to kill me, Wulff; I’ll never die better.”
“I wouldn’t do it,” Wulff said, “I just wouldn’t do it,” and he made a motion toward Stevens; Stevens caught it, acknowledged it and then with the aspect of a man binding himself together opened the door and preceded Wulff down the stairs. From behind he was not nearly such a large man, shrunken in fact, his shoulder blades prominent, his walk awkward, the tilt of his head that of a man many years older who had suffered an injury of some sort.
Into the jaws of the enemy, Wulff thought.
There was just no other way.
He knew that Delgado would be waiting.
X
The capital was only a short distance from the hotel. Urban sociology, Wulff thought, was a constant: all cities in all parts of the world seemed to be fabricated in the same way. From the central city, the gleaming center of commerce with its relatively aseptic streets, the city spat back residents; the people living just outside the circle of the central city lived in the filthiest, most dangerous area of all because real-estate values back of the central city were such that housing could be accommodated only by cramming the largest number of people into the smallest possible space. That meant poverty and filth but it also meant residents, because no firm or governmental office wanted to be on the ring outside of the central city; it was either straight downtown or it was sprawled out ten miles from that ring. Havana was typical of such construction; the hotel in which Stevens lived was in that ring but as they walked through the streets the very air seemed to lighten; it came off them like a glassine sheet or cellophane, rather than like the gelatinous material which had clung to their faces further back. It even seemed to Wulff, as he stalked Stevens four or five paces to the rear, holding his hand lightly on a pistol within his pocket, that Stevens himself was gathering courage, looking better the further he moved from his dismal quarters toward the capital. The capital itself loomed up before them, a series of flat buildings which rose above the skyline of the city and approaching it from the rear this way they were able to close in utterly unobserved. From the rear the buildings looked unadorned, unpatrolled, all of the security forces so common in these countries were clustered toward the front because they could see matters only in terms of frontal protection. No wonder any group of guerillas numbering more than three with more than five dollars in backing could make a good run at the regime if they wanted. The only reason the government here had stood so long was probably that no one else would have it: it was simply too much trouble to inherit the difficulties for oneself.
They stopped by a low wall ringing the near building, Stevens halting, letting Wulff catch up to him. “This is the building,” Stevens said. “He’s on the third floor.”
“I know that. I was here, remember?”
“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. As far as I’m concerned your entire life is a blank up to the point I met you on the plane. All right?”
“Suits me,” said Wulff.
“So what do you want to do?”
“What do you think I want to do?” Wulff said, “I want to go in there and take him.”
“I tell you again, you’re crazy. We won’t get anywhere.”
“You don’t understand,
” Wulff said, “you just don’t understand what’s really going on here. If we keep it low-key and matter-of-fact we have a reasonable chance.”
“Don’t say we. I’m just a hostage being brought here under duress.”
“Oh,” Wulff said, “in other words if this thing doesn’t work you’ll jump back to that side.”
“I’ll jump back to any side,” Stevens said, “I’ll be on any side which will have me. Survival is the name of the game, do you understand? I won’t betray you and I’ll work with you but if I can save my ass I’d like to. But I’ll walk in there fronting you and try to get us in.”
“You’re an honest man.”
“It’s the only goddamned virtue I have left,” Stevens said. “The rest of it went a long time ago, but yes I’m honest. I try to be according to my lights, anyway.” He pushed off from the wall again and Wulff fell into position. They traversed the wall of the building and came out then on a sudden, glowing street, sun bouncing off the hard cement, an explosion of traffic and uniforms. It was stunning, as if the street had been scooped up and hurled in their faces and for just a moment Wulff found himself taken by it, from the rear the building was death stretching into the backyard and rubble but from the front—ah! from the front it was the gleaming center of a thriving, industrious government. Washington, D.C. was the same way, crawling in from the drug-smeared ghetto to the abrupt sweep of Pennsylvania Avenue and the White House and these people had certainly taken their lessons from American administration, either that or both of them had learned from some common source…. Well, it was very complex and interesting, but having nothing to do with the primary thing, which was not to speculate on urban sociology but to get hold of Delgado and proceed from there. The uniforms ringing the steps did not even look at Stevens and Wulff as they climbed upwards; they looked straight out ahead, one of them chewing gum, a couple of others conversing, a gleaming display of governmental authority except that they did not hold themselves correctly and surely did not know what was going on. Stevens walked through a glass door, held it open for Wulff and they went into a huge lobby, stone figures ringing the walls. There at last a guard stopped them; a man whose face under the ornate cap was both young and stricken, showing a kind of personality which officials should never have.
