Hall watched Marina and the French boy. They had pink drinks made with gin and grenadine and raw eggs. The French boy was giggling. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Hall said.

"Sit here and order a Cuba Libre for me," Duarte said. "I'm going to phone for a car."

Now that the action had begun, Hall felt better. The tension had been broken. Hands were starting to be shown. Now the moves would come more quickly, he thought, and they would be more definite in form. Diverse facts would synthesize, and when the letter came from Havana, perhaps the whole thing would start to form one pattern.

"We can't talk here," Duarte said. "Let's have a drink and then, when my car comes, we'll go to my house. I rented a place on the beach."

"Sorry, boy. That's out tonight. Have to stick around the hotel."

"But we should talk, Mateo."

"I'll have breakfast with you at your house. Do you eat in?"

"Sometimes. We'll eat in tomorrow morning."

"Eight o'clock too early?"

"No. I'll get you out of bed, Felipe. Well, here's to Mexico!"

_Chapter seven_

It was not quite six when the phone next to Hall's bed rang and a tired Souza said, "Your driver is on the way up to your room, Senor."

Hall admitted Pepe a moment later. "What is it?" he asked. Unshaven, heavy-eyed, the big Asturiano seemed thoroughly upset.

"_Nada_," he said. "It is just time." He went to the window, locked the shutters, and held his finger to his lips. With his other hand, he first pointed to Ansaldo's room and then to his ear.

"Oh," Hall said, raising his voice. "Thank you for waking me. Sit down and have a smoke while I dress." He gave Pepe a pencil and a sheet of paper.

Pepe wrote: "The Englishman Fielding was killed three hours ago."

"How?" Hall asked.

The driver vigorously pointed to the street. "You will miss your train, Senor," he said.

"I'll hurry." Hall dressed quickly, shaved, and went downstairs with Pepe. They got into the car and Pepe headed in the direction of the railroad terminal.

"Fielding was run down by an automobile near his house," Pepe said.

"Was it a Rolls-Royce?"

"I don't know. There was only one witness. An old woman. She said that he was walking across the street and the automobile just hit him and kept on going. She said it looked as if he walked into the car."

"Who is the old woman?"

"A farmer's wife. She was on her way to the market with a wagon of meal."

"Didn't she describe the car?"

"I don't think so, Mateo. The Englishman died instantly. He had a gun in his pocket when they found him. Didn't have a chance to use it against his murderers."

"Where are we going now?"

"No place. I just pointed our noses toward the railroad for the benefit of anyone watching us from the hotel."

"Oh. I have an appointment at the beach at eight o'clock. Let's have some coffee until we're ready to go."

Pepe drove to a cafe near the Transport Union building. They found a table in the back of the place. "Do you know any of the Englishman's friends?" Hall asked.

"Not many."

"Did you know his friend Harrington?"

The name left Pepe cold. He was certain that he had never met Harrington or heard the name mentioned. Nor did he know anything about Fielding's employees. "His secretary is a middle-aged Hermanita. She lives alone with a parrot and minds her own business. I knew a man who was her lover once, but that was fifteen years ago."

"Do you know much about Felipe Duarte?" Hall asked.

"Sure. But why?"

"I'm to meet him at eight this morning."

Pepe looked at the clock. "Then let's go," he said. "Sometimes Duarte is like a crazy man, but he is a good friend."

"Does he know you?"

"We have met many times. Did you know him in Spain?"

They went to the car, and Hall told Pepe about some of Duarte's legendary feats in the war against the fascists. He was in the midst of a story about the Ebro retreat when they reached Duarte's cottage.

Duarte came to the door wearing a towel around his middle. "So you got up?" he laughed. "And you got Pepe up, too! Come in and fill your guts."

He led them through the small living room, put on a pair of shorts and mismated huaraches.

"We'll all eat in the kitchen," he said. "I'll bet you forgot that I'm a wonderful cook, Mateo." He served a twelve-egg omelet whose pungent fires brought tears to Hall's eyes.

"This is really going to kill me," Hall said.

"The lousy gringo," Duarte said to Pepe. "He's got a gringo stomach."

Pepe defended Hall loyally. After he had his coffee, he rubbed his bristling beard and asked Duarte if he had a razor that could cut through steel wire. Duarte took him to the bathroom.

"Shave and bathe while I talk to Mateo," he said.

When they were alone, Hall asked him if he knew Fielding. "Sure, I do.

He's the one English planter in South America who knows that the world is round."