"I think I understand," Hall said.

"I don't have to go into the details. There is no time for that, anyway.

The point is that he had to go to Spain last year, and he came back filled with loathing for everything he saw. This I know for a fact.

First, he started to sit home alone every night and get drunk, and then he began to write a memoir about what he saw. He didn't think anyone would ever see it. He still doesn't know that anyone but himself has ever seen it. I got it from his servant one morning a few weeks ago. She is one of ours. We photographed it and she put it back before he got home that night."

Eduardo pa.s.sed a box of inexpensive cigars around. "The week before that," he said, "I ran into Rivas at a cafe in Matanzas. He was sobering up after a drinking bout. I tried to avoid him but he followed me out of the place. He was crying. He called himself a son of a wh.o.r.e mother and a traitor to his honor and his people and carried on like a fool. Then he started to tell me about his wife's lover--we've known all about that for months, but Rivas had just found out--and I became filled with disgust for the creature. I shook him off and left him standing in the street crying like a whipped dog. I hate weaklings."

"I get it," Hall said. "But when you saw his diary, you started to change your mind, eh?"

"I still don't trust him. I introduced him to Santiago because Santiago wanted to meet him."

"I wouldn't trust him with Franco's daughter," Rafael said.

Santiago Iglesias sighed heavily. "No one asks you to sleep with him, Rafael," he said. "It isn't that. But you remember what happened in the early days of the war. We had to take any officer who swore loyalty to the Republic. We had no choice in the matter, did we, _chico_?"

"But we also put in commissars to keep an eye on them."

"It's true, _chico_. But some of them proved to be really loyal, eh?"

"A handful."

"All right, even a handful. But the point is that they were useful. Here is the situation as of tonight: if the pictures which will kill the Falange in San Hermano are anywhere within our reach at all, they are in the Spanish Emba.s.sy. We have no contact we can trust inside the Emba.s.sy.

The nearest thing to such a contact is Rivas. He is a weakling and he was a traitor. We know that. What we don't know is whether his repentance is sincere. The only way to really find out is to test the man. This is the time to test him. I've spoken with him three times in the past week. He begs for a chance to prove that he has the right to serve the Republic again."

"He can serve the Republic best," Rafael insisted, "by blowing his brains out."

"Rafael!"

"I'm sorry, Colonel Iglesias. I hate traitors."

"I don't love them, _chico_. But it is not for us to put our personal likes and dislikes before our greater duties, Major. And please remember," he added, smiling, "you still are a major in the People's Army. Neither your commission nor your Army has expired yet."

"What do you want me to do?" Rafael asked, softly. "I will respect your commands as my superior--and my friend."

Santiago toyed with a thick copy pencil. "I am going to put it to a vote right here. Who is for getting Fernando Rivas to let us into the Spanish Emba.s.sy and removing what we need from the files? Understand, we won't tell him what we want in the files--that would be trusting him too much before he proves himself. Who is for raiding the Emba.s.sy with the help of Rivas? On this, Mateo, you will have to vote also."

Hall and Eduardo Sanchez raised their hands.

"Against?"

The three men looked at Rafael. He folded his hands in his lap, ostentatiously studied the ceiling.

"Are you against the idea, Rafael?"

"I think it is crazy, Santiago. I am not afraid. I just think it is crazy. Can't we get in without the traitor?"

"I don't know how," Santiago said. "I guess we'll have to try it without you, Rafael."

"Over my dead body, my friend. I'm going with you. I've been wrong before, but I've never avoided a battle. I'm not ducking this one, Santiago."

Eduardo winked at Hall. "Listen to the strategist," he laughed, but there was pride and real affection in his words. "Rafael," he said, "if you didn't shoot so straight I'd say that you talk too d.a.m.ned much."

"Go to h.e.l.l," Rafael said. "You're wasting good time. Let's finish examining these fascist papers. Maybe we'll find the filthy picture tonight in these piles, and then we won't have to risk three, no four,"

he looked at Hall, "four good Republican lives on the guts of a traitor.

Come on, Eduardo, get to work."

Hall motioned Santiago to the door. "Let's go around the corner," he whispered, "and bring back a few bottles of Cristal."

They walked slowly to the _cantineria_ on the corner, had some beer, and bought a dozen bottles to take back with them. Santiago said that he hoped it would not be necessary to raid the Emba.s.sy without previously testing Rivas on less hazardous tasks.

"Personally," he said, "I think Rivas is honest about wanting to come back. I think he can be trusted if we have to do it with him. But it might mean shooting, and you cannot afford to get shot. Perhaps you had better not join us."

"No. Don't try to cut me out, _viejo_, or I'll do it alone with Rafael."

"All right. But I hope we find it before we have to raid the fascists."

They went upstairs. "Call Fabri at your office," Eduardo told Santiago.

"He says he has some good news for you."

"He must have found Lobo." Santiago was right. His man had reached the General. "He says for you to meet him at headquarters in an hour. Fabri found him at a party in Vedado. If I know Jaime Lobo, that means he will actually be back in two hours. You've got plenty of time."

Eduardo took a bottle opener from his desk. "You'll get me in trouble,"

he said. "We're not allowed to drink in the office."

"Tell Escalante it was my fault," Hall laughed.

"You'd better sign a sworn statement."

"Tomorrow. Listen, Eduardo, there is something you must do for me.

Santiago has a file on a man named Marcelino Ga.s.sau. I want the whole thing copied on microfilm, four negatives of everything in the file. Can you have it done in your dark room tomorrow morning?"

"Consider it done, Mateo."

Rafael drank his beer and cursed the magazines for not having the pictures of Ansaldo that Hall wanted. "Let's get back to work," he said, impatiently. "Let's find the d.a.m.ned pictures if they're here."

Hall and Santiago sat down at the desk and started to go through individual issues of various fascist publications for the year 1938.

While they worked, Hall asked Santiago if he knew the Figueroa whom he had to see in the Mexican Emba.s.sy.

"He is a friend," the Spaniard said. "He is completely reliable. He will do anything you ask within reason--and nearly anything that is without reason at all."

None of the men found the photo Hall was seeking by the time he was ready to leave for General Lobo's headquarters. "I'll get you a taxi,"

Eduardo said. "You can take a look at the AP ticker in the wire room in the meanwhile. There might be some news on Tabio's condition."

The wires reported that Tabio still breathed.

It was nearly midnight when Hall crossed the threshold of the brooding stone building that was Secret Police Headquarters. Like all police headquarters the world over, this one also smelled faintly of carbolic and damp stone, a stench Hall had grown to detest in San Sebastian. He walked briskly down the dark corridor which led to Lobo's office.