in the filing cabinet, closed the drawer and tested the lock. "Suppose we meet again after I have my dinner with Commander New at the Embassy tomorrow night. He's our new Intelligence man. Understand he took quite a beating from the Hun at Dunkirk."
"Swell. Same place?"
"I don't know yet, old man. Suppose I give you a ring." The Englishman suddenly lapsed into a lisping, Castillian Spanish. "Señor Hall? Eh, Señor Hall? This is Father Arupe. Bless you, my son. Would you care to come to confession tonight?"
"Then it will be Father Arupe on the phone?"
"Yes, Señor. If I ask you to confession, it means this office in an hour. If I suggest you attend mass in the morning, drive out to my house. I'll write the address for you."
"Good."
"Oh, just another word about tonight's reports. If you could help me bring the facts about the waterfront to your government, I think it would be most beneficial. Most beneficial, old man."
"I'll do my best."
"I know I can count on you. Knew it before I ever laid eyes on you, Hall. One of my associates can keep us both posted on the waterfront. Name's Harrington. Grand chap, Harrington. Straight as a die, and intelligent."
Hall poured a cup full of cold coffee and swallowed it in a gulp. "God, that's good coffee," he said.
"How are you going back to the Bolivar?"
"I've got a car waiting downstairs. The driver insisted upon waiting."
"El Gran Pepe?"
"Yeah. I guess it is Big Joe." He described his driver. "And Souza says he is very reliable."
"Oh, he is, old man. He is. You know, since they turned the bloody lights down, it's worth your life to cross the streets at night. Awful lot of traffic accidents and all that, you know. Nothing like a reliable driver."
"How about you, Fielding?"
"Oh, I'll phone for my own reliable driver. Or better yet, tell Pepe to come back for me, will you, old man?"
Hall rubbed the right side of his face. "Why don't you ride back with me, and then continue on out to your house?"
"No. It would be better if you left here alone."
"But how about you?"
"There's no danger, old man. No danger. Besides ..." Fielding reached into his jacket pocket, took out a small black automatic. "She's loaded, and I can shoot in the dark, if need be. My Betsy is all I need."
"This is silly," Hall protested.
"Go on, now, old man. No one is going to break in to the office at this hour of the night. I'm in no danger at all."
"If you say so." Hall got up. "Don't see me to the door. I know my way."
The old man put his arm around Hall's shoulder. "We English," he said, "we're an undemonstrative tribe. Take pride in our cold hearts. But underneath the ice some of us have hearts. I'm glad to know you, Hall. And I'm glad we had this little chat. Good night, and sleep well. You're all in."
"Good night, Fielding. And thanks. You're swell."
Hall left the office, rode the elevator to the main floor. Outside, the reliable driver was asleep at the wheel, his right hand under the white chauffeur's cap which rested on his lap. Hall stood near the open window, smiling sardonically at Big Pepe. O.K., pal, he thought, we'll find out about you right now. He cleared his throat, suddenly barked, "Arriba España!"
Big Pepe awoke with a startled growl. The hand under the cap swung up toward the window. It was clenched around a large nickeled revolver.
"It's me, Pepe," Hall laughed. "Hall."
The driver groaned, shoved the pistol into his trouser-pocket. Then he also laughed. "Get in," he said. "Get in and thank your stars you're still alive."
Hall joined him in the front seat.
"Arriba España," Pepe muttered, starting the car. "That is no joke in the heart of any Delgado from the Asturias. That is an abomination."
"You're an Asturiano?"
"Look at me, compañero. Do I have the face of a Gallego? Do I have the head of a Catalan? Do I have the eyes of a Madrileño or the soul of a puta?"
"You fought in the war against the fascists?"
"Mother of God, he's asking me if I fought! Always until eternity they will ask, Delgado, did you fight? And what will I say?"
"Watch out!" Hall screamed. "You'll hit that pole!" He grabbed for the wheel. Big Pepe's steel arm stopped him.
"De nada," the driver laughed. "Didn't Fernando tell you I am a reliable driver?" The car missed the pole by inches, whirled around a corner on two wheels, and then rolled casually down the Avenida de la Liberacion. Another mad turn, and they were at the Bolivar.
"The Englishman, Fielding," Hall said. "He wants you to pick him up at the office and take him home."
"Bueno." Big Pepe put the car in gear.
"How much do I owe you?" Hall shouted.
"Mañana, compañero, mañana." Big Pepe had to stick his head out of the window and look back, while the car moved ahead, to answer Hall. One more mañana, the American thought, and the reliable driver would drive his car through a wall. He watched the car turn the corner on two wheels.
Souza was still on duty. He handed Hall the key to his room. "You look very tired, Señor Hall," he said. "I hope you sleep well."
"Thank you. Good night, amigo." When he got to his room, he phoned down to the desk.
"I forgot," he said. "But if that cabrón of a waiter is still on duty, could you send up a bottle of mineral water with the elevator operator?"
"Of course. The operator is no cabrón."
"Thanks. And by the way, didn't I meet you the last time I was in San Hermano?"
"No, Señor. But if you will pardon me for presuming, I feel in a sense as if we are old friends, in a sense."
"Old friends?"
"Yes, Señor. You see, I have read your book."
"My book?"
"Sí, su libro. Buenas noches, compañero."
This time there was no confusion in Hall's mind. He knew which book Fernando Souza meant. He went to sleep feeling less lonely than he had in a long time.
Chapter four
The
