"He's dead." Hall told Duarte all that he knew about Fielding's death, and what little he knew about Fielding himself. Duarte listened in stunned silence.

"And you still think that attempt on you last night was a bluff?" he asked when Hall was done.

"I'm more convinced than ever that it was a bluff. But whoever drove that car knew that an hour later Fielding was going to be killed by a car. And I'll bet that it was not the same car that made a pa.s.s at us last night."

"Then you're hiding something from me, Mateo."

"The h.e.l.l I am. I'm going to tell you everything I know. Just give me a chance. Do you know Juan Antonio Martinez?"

"The young teacher?"

Hall told Duarte about Juan Antonio's phone call to _Mundo Obrero_ and how it reached the Cross and the Sword in a matter of minutes.

"Fernandez and his boy friends told me about the phone call at the Emba.s.sy last night. They warned me that it meant the Reds were going to prepare an attempt on my life. Now my cue is to run to them for help because of the Rolls-Royce in the Plaza."

"Will you go through with it?"

"Tomorrow. But I don't like the idea. They don't act as if they knew about my record in Spain. But it's crazy to think they're going to remain in the dark."

"What are you doing today?"

"I'm catching the eleven o'clock train to Juarez. I have an idea I'll come back with a pretty good line on the Cross and Sword camarilla."

Duarte laughed. "I have an idea you'll come back from Juarez with something else," he said.

"Not today, Felipe. I'd like to, but not today."

"She's a good piece."

"Forget it. I'm after stronger meat today."

"Like that nurse with the red hair?"

"I'm serious, Felipe. And we haven't got much time. Listen, did you ever hear of a guy named Harrington? Fielding said he was his a.s.sociate, and that he knew a lot about the Falange at the waterfront."

The name meant nothing to Duarte. "But then, I didn't know Fielding too well. I've only talked to him once; he wanted to find out if I had known his son."

"Well, you've got to find Harrington, if he exists," Hall said. "And one other thing: Fielding had dinner with the new British Naval Intelligence officer for this port the night before last."

"Commander New?"

"That's the guy. You've got to see New this morning. Better send a messenger to the British Emba.s.sy with a sealed note. Don't use the phone."

"What do I say in the note?"

"Anything. The idea is that you've got to stop the British Emba.s.sy from raising a stink about Fielding for at least a week. Let the Falange think the British Emba.s.sy accepts the police verdict on Fielding's death. In the paper this morning the police described it as an unfortunate accident."

"Some accident!"

"Act as if you know plenty when you see New. You'd better have him visit you, Felipe. Tell him that in a week you'll have the true facts."

"Will I?"

"I don't know. Well, tell him you think you'll have the full facts. And find out all you can about Harrington, if New knows anything. See if you can arrange for me to meet Harrington."

"I understand." Duarte looked at his watch and shouted to Pepe to get out of the bathroom. "We've got to get started," he said to Hall. "If I'm to stop Commander New, I'd better not lose any more time."

"Good. Where will you be tonight at about nine? That's when the return train gets in."

"Call me right here. What name will you use? Pedro?"

"Pedro is O.K."

"If we have to meet tonight, I'll tell Pepe where we can do it. I'd better tell him now. Have some more coffee while I dress, _chico_. And don't worry." Duarte went upstairs.

Hall endorsed a hundred-dollar money order and ran after Duarte. "One other favor, Felipe. Ride to town with Pepe and me, and after I get out at the railroad station, please force that Asturian mule to accept this check. He's refused to take a cent from me since I'm in town--and I found out how much gasoline is selling for in San Hermano."

The train to Juarez was on the line to the north which had been built in Segura's time. The graft which had gone in to the building of the road was now scattered over the far corners of the earth. Somewhere in Paris, one of the chief contractors still lived on his share of the booty, paying varying fees to the n.a.z.is for b.u.t.ter and woolens. In New York, one of Segura's army of illegitimate sons was studying medicine on the proceeds of some shares in the line which had belonged to his mother.

Estates whose rolling lands touched the rails on either side belonged to old Seguristas who had bought the lands with the money they had managed to steal from the project. The money was gone, but the steel cars the builders had bought in Indiana and Pennsylvania remained. It was still a good railroad, and even though it now belonged to the government, the trains not only ran on time but were much cleaner and charged lower fares than before.

Hall watched the green countryside until the rolling landscape and the rhythm of the wheels made him drowsy. He turned away from the window, opened his newspaper to stay awake. The news was vague. The bulletin from the Presidencia stated simply that Ansaldo had spent four hours with Tabio but had issued no verdict. Those were exactly the words, "no verdict," and reading them again Hall grew angry. He tried to figure out some foolproof way of cabling to Havana, but the censorship hazards were too great.

The inside pages had little of interest. Bits of international and Washington news. A feature story from Mexico City on the great religious revival that was sweeping Mexico and threatening the Marxist forces in the government. This was in _El Imparcial_, and Hall recognized the byline of the author, a prominent lieutenant of the Mexican fascist leader, Gomez Morin. There was a full page of local society items, dry stuff about weddings, dinners, parties, the goings and comings of the smart set. And the inevitable puff story, this one about the "great and noted lawyer" Benito Sanchez, about whom no one had ever heard a thing and who would sink back into obscurity until he paid for another personality feature at so much per column, cash on the barrel. Hall forced himself through this flowery account of the lawyer's ancestry, wit, humanitarianism, piety, fertility, education, patriotism, skill in court, and kindness to his mother. Try as he could, the hack who wrote this story had not been able to completely fill three columns, the accepted length for such compositions. The bottom of the third column had therefore been filled with a stock item in small type: "Ships Arriving and Leaving Today and Tomorrow."

Mechanically, Hall read the shipping notes. The _Drottning-holm_ was in port. The _Estrella de Santiago_ was returning to Havana. Tomorrow, the _Marques de Avillar_ was due from Barcelona. Tomorrow the _Ouro Preto_ was sailing back to Lisbon. The _City of Seattle_ was now six days overdue; U. S. Lines, Inc., had no explanation. Mails for the _Ouro Preto_ closed at midnight.

Hall turned the page and stopped. The rustle of the paper struck a hidden chord in his mind. He turned back to the shipping news, read it carefully. The _Marques de Avillar_ became as great as the _Normandie_ and the _Queen Mary_ rolled into one. He recalled the conversation he had overheard between Ansaldo and Marina. _Find out if they came today.... Too dangerous to come by Clipper._ But by Spanish boat?

He went back to the conversation. Yes, that was exactly the way they talked. And after the talking came the rustling of a paper. Not evidence, of course, and even in wartime you couldn't shoot two b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like them unless you knew more. But was it worth following up? Perhaps Margaret Skidmore would be able to supply another piece of the jigsaw.

She had a sharp tongue, and this meant a sharp head. Sharp and tough, and Felipe was probably right about her other value, but if it happened at all it would have to happen when this mess was cleared up.

The train pulled into Juarez on time. Hall got off and gaped at the station. It was covered from ground to roof with the blazing "tiger vines" whose orange orchid-shaped flowers were the unofficial flag of the country. Margaret was waiting for Hall under the station shed. "Hi,"

she shouted, "have a nice trip?"

"Swell. Let me look at you under the sunlight." In a tennis eye shade, green sports dress, and rope-soled _zapatos_ she seemed to be more of a woman than she was in evening clothes.

"Well?"

"You'll do," he laughed. "It's just that evening clothes rarely reveal more than the size of a woman's shopping budget."

Margaret laughed easily. "You mean that you can't tell whether a girl in an evening gown has knock knees or a wooden leg. I have neither. There's my car. That little jalopy."

"How far is your place from the station?" Hall asked.

"It starts right here." Margaret pointed to a green field to the left of the road. "I have four thousand acres between the tracks and the main house, and then there's a lot of scrub forest behind the house that belongs to me."

"All yours?"