intercom buzzed. Del Valle, grateful for the distraction, pressed the button before he could continue, and made a mental note of the fact that some people had been far too free in their conversation with Orieza. Roderigo would determine who the general had been listening to, and would make sure those persons disappeared permanently. Orieza was asking far too many inconvenient questions.
“Yes?” he said, leaning over the intercom.
Orieza’s secretary spouted a stream of apologies for interrupting, and then begged their pardons, but could Commander Del Valle take an urgent call from the field? One of his men had been trying to reach him for some time, she said, and she had delayed connecting the call for as long as she thought prudent.
“Yes, yes,” Del Valle said testily. “Put it through.” He picked up the large receiver. “Yes?” he said again in Spanish.
“Commander,” stated one of his field lieutenants, whose name escaped him at the moment. The soldier was out of breath, or frantic in some way, as if he was frightened or had run to reach the phone. “Sir, I must sound the alarm urgently, sir! There is great trouble here at the terminal!”
“The pipeline terminal?” Del Valle demanded.
“Yes, Commander, yes!”
“Well?”
“Sir…it…”
“What, damn you?” Del Valle roared. “Spit it out, or I will wring your neck!”
“Sir, the terminal burns.”
“What?” Del Valle shouted. “What are you talking about?”
“Sir—” The voice was cut short by a loud clap of sound, a noise Del Valle couldn’t escape.
“Report!” he yelled. “Report, damn you!”
The muffled click of the receiver being replaced in its cradle was the only reply.
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