"Come on. We're going to the Presidencia. It sounds like the end."

_Chapter thirteen_

The private elevator in the Presidencia was both carpeted and bullet-proof, as it had been in General Segura's day. But the magnificent bronze friezes of General Segura's capture of San Hermano had long since been melted down to make medals, and in place of the martial friezes there now hung a series of water colors painted by grade-school children in the small villages. Every year, Hall explained to Jerry as the car climbed to the fourth floor, a committee of the Republic's leading artists chose twenty water colors submitted by the schools for a place in this elevator. The students whose pictures were chosen received medals made from the bronze frieze which had originally hung in their places.

Gonzales was waiting for them at the fourth-floor landing. "Are you all right?" he asked Jerry, and without waiting for an answer he took Hall's arm and started to walk down the long gilded corridor toward the private library of the President.

The library was large, perhaps forty feet square, the four walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling. In one corner was an immense mahogany writing table, clean now except for a drinking gla.s.s packed with sharpened pencils and a large yellow foolscap pad. When Tabio was well, this table was always piled high with books, most of them opened and kept in place by an inkwell, a heavy watch, or another book. Today there were no books on Don Anibal's table; instead, almost as if in explanation, a padded steel and aluminum wheel chair stood empty near the little corridor which led to the door of the President's bedroom.

"Please, sit down." Gonzales indicated two leather chairs.

"I'm in the way," Jerry said. "I don't belong here."

"I had to take her along," Hall said. "It was a matter of her life. Is there some place where she can rest while we--while we talk?"

"Excuse me. I will make the arrangement." Gonzales stepped out of the room.

"What's happening?" Jerry asked.

"I don't know. It looks bad. Whatever it is, don't cave in on me now. It won't do anyone any good."

"I'm all right now. But I'll probably have nightmares about today for the rest of my life."

Gonzales returned to the library with a middle-aged maid in a simple uniform. "Please, nurse," he said, "this lady will escort you to a quiet apartment. You will find brandy and a bed. I hope you will forgive us and find comfort." His blue lips tried to smile at Jerry as she followed the maid out of the library.

"You're not well," Hall said.

The blue lips tightened. "I'm a cardiac, you know. But it is not of importance. Simon Tabio will join us in a moment. It is very serious, _companero_."

"Don Anibal?"

"Yes. Simon will tell you about the new development. He is young, but he is very strong. He knows that Gamburdo is a traitor."

"Has he told Don Anibal?"

"The mere telling might kill him. We must have the proof before we tell him."

"The proof?" Hall started to tell the ailing doctor about Androtten when Simon Tabio entered the library.

"Ah, Simon. This is _Companero_ Mateo Hall."

"How do you do?" the boy said, in English. "I regret that we must meet under such sad circ.u.mstances."

"_El habla castellano, chico_," Gonzales said.

"The sorrow weighs with equal weight in my own heart," Hall said.

"_Companero_ Hall was on the point of telling me some important news when you came in, Simon. I think you should hear it."

"I would like to hear it," Simon said.

"Do you know about Corbeta the Falange agent and Jimenez the C.T.E.

radio operator being at the Gamburdo ranch with Ansaldo?"

"Yes. Segador has kept me informed."

"There was one other man at the ranch with them, a n.a.z.i. An agent of the Ibero-American Inst.i.tute named Androtten. At least that was the name he used. He reached San Hermano on the same plane which brought Ansaldo and me." Hall told them of Jerry's accidental discovery and of the events which followed and brought about the death of the n.a.z.i. He told it in very few words, his eyes taking in the uncanny resemblance between Simon and his father.

"My father is very ill, senor. We must be able to prove your story for him."

"He is my friend," Hall said. "He will believe me."

"He is very ill. I believe you, of course. But what proof have we for my father that Androtten was a n.a.z.i agent? If you know my father at all well, senor, you must surely know his pa.s.sion for the truth. And we must remember that in his illness ..." The boy's voice trailed off to nothingness, and he turned away from his elders.

"I think," Gonzales said, gently, "I think that you had better tell _Companero_ Hall about what happened this morning."

Simon Bolivar Tabio dabbed at his reddened eyes with a white handkerchief. "They are killing him," he said, brokenly. He paused to swallow the painful lump in his throat, ashamed before the friends of his father for his weakness.

"There are many tears in San Hermano for Don Anibal," Hall said. "You should be proud of your own."

"This morning," Simon said, "Dr. Marina arrived here with a written message for my mother from Dr. Ansaldo. The surgeon refused to operate without the written permission of the entire Cabinet. He says in the note that he refuses to predict how long my father can live without an operation. He says that the operation must be performed immediately."

"It is murder," Gonzales said. "Every doctor in San Hermano who has examined Don Anibal swears that he is too weak to undergo an operation right now."

"He sent a copy of the note to each member of the Cabinet," Simon said.

"They refuse to discuss the question without my father's permission."

"The dirty b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Hall said.

"We were discussing you this morning," Gonzales said. "Lavandero and Simon and myself. We think that if we get no further actual proof, we will have to place a great burden on your shoulders, _Companero_ Hall.

Don Anibal trusts you."

"Do you want me to tell Don Anibal what I know?"

"Not immediately. It would be too great a shock. Don Anibal would demand proof even from you. But if he hears from you that you are here to investigate the Falange and then if, say tomorrow, you come back and tell him that you have run across some important information, perhaps ..."

"But have we time to break it to him in easy stages? Is his--health--adequate?"

"It is a chance we are forced to take," Simon said. "My father's health is not--adequate--for a sudden shock."

"You may be right. I have already notified Segador about Androtten.

Perhaps by tomorrow he will have established Androtten's real ident.i.ty."

"Then you will see my father now?"