Len Deighton - Mexico Set

'I'm sorry,' I said. I reached and pulled her close to me. Her body was cold as she snuggled against me, and I pulled the bedclothes up almost over our faces. She kissed me. 'You're here; you're necessary,' I said.

'I do love you, Bernard. I know you think I'm immature but I love you desperately.'

'I think you're very mature,' I said, caressing her.

'Oh, yes,' she said dreamily. And then, as the thought came to her, 'You won't hide me from your children, will you?'

'No, I won't.'

'Promise?'

'Of course.'

'I'm good with children.'

'You're good with grown-ups too,' I said.

'Oh, yes,' she said. She snuggled down in the bed and cuddled me. I stayed awake as long as I could. I was frightened of going to sleep in case I had another nightmare about MacKenzie and woke up screaming and bathed in sweat the way I had two or three times before. But eventually I dozed off. I didn't dream at all. Gloria was good for me.

It was like stepping into a sauna bath to get off the plane into the heat of Mexico City. I arrived on a particularly bad day, when the humidity and temperature had reached a record-breaking high. Like a city under bombardment, the steamy streets echoed with constant rolls of distant thunder that never got louder. And black-headed cumulo-nimbus clouds, poised over the mountains, did not bring the threatened rainstorms. Such weather played upon the nerves of even the most acclimatized inhabitants, and the police statistics show a pattern of otherwise unaccountable violence that peaks at this time of year.

'I'll have to talk with Stinnes,' I told Werner. 'I've got to see him face to face.' We were in the apartment that belonged to Zena's uncle. The list of breakages hanging by the phone had grown much longer. Perhaps that was another sign of the way the oppressive weather made everyone so jumpy. I was reluctant to move away from the air-conditioner, but the air coming through it was warm, and the noise of the motor was so loud that it was difficult to hear what Werner was saying in reply. I cupped my ear.

'He'll be ready to go on Friday,' said Werner, raising his voice as he said it a second time. 'Just as London requested. Friday; no sooner and no later.' Even Werner, who seemed to enjoy the hot weather, had finally succumbed to the high humidity. He was shirtless and continually gulping deep draughts of iced lemonade. I'd told him that it would not help but he persisted. Werner could be very stubborn at times.

I said, 'London will not authorize the payment of such a large sum of money until someone on the spot checks with the recipient and okays it, and I am the someone on the spot.'

Zena came into the room bringing more iced lemonade. She said, 'His embassy has restricted everyone's movements. It's not so easy for them to go strolling in and out as they used to do.'

'I find that difficult to believe,' I said. 'Stinnes is a RGB man. He doesn't have to take any notice of anything the embassy says; he can tell the ambassador to drop dead.'

Zena interpreted my response as a sign of nervousness. 'It will be all right,' she said, and smiled at me in the patronizing way she did so often with Werner.

'It won't be all right,' I said. 'London won't authorize the money… not this kind of money.'

'Then tell London that they must authorize it,' said Zena.

'My standing with London Central is not so good that they will take my orders so readily,' I explained. They'll want some questions answered.'

'What questions?' said Werner.

'They'll ask why Stinnes is so insistent upon having the money up front.'

'Why not?' said Zena, who would be surprised at anyone wanting money any other way.

'What's the hurry?' I said. 'Why won't Stinnes wait until he's in the UK? What's Stinnes going to do in the middle of Mexico City with a suitcase full of pound notes?'

'American dollar bills,' said Zena. 'That's what he asked for, used hundred-dollar bills.'

Zena's manner annoyed me and I snapped at her. 'Golden sovereigns, zlotys, shark teeth or cowrie shells… what's the difference?' I said. 'Why carry a case filled with cash through a rough town like this? What's wrong with a bank transfer or a letter of credit or even a bearer bond?

'I wonder if Erich thought of sovereigns,' said Zena. 'Do you know, I think he might have preferred sovereigns or krugerrands, even, to US paper. How heavy would it be in gold?'

I ignored her question. 'Whatever he chooses to have as a payment, he'll still have it with him when he gets into the car, won't he? So if we were acting in bad faith we could easily take it away from him. I can't see what's in his mind.'

'I don't think he'll have it with him,' said Zena very casually, as if wondering whether the storm would come and the rain cool the streets. 'Erich is clever. He'll put it away somewhere where no one else can get their hands on it.'

'Will he?' I said.

'That's what I'd do,' said Zena.

'Nip into the bank, and give it to the cashier?' I said mockingly.

She rose to my bait. 'Or give it to someone he trusts,' said Zena.

I laughed. 'He gives his money to someone he trusts, but delivers his body to people he doesn't trust? I'd say anyone who followed that line of reasoning is an imbecile.' I looked at her to see what made her so sure about what Stinnes had in mind. There was no doubt that she had great influence over him. Now I began to wonder if Zena was thinking of delivering him to us, and then stealing his money from him. Poor Erich Stinnes.

'No doubt you do,' she said haughtily. 'That's because, now your wife has left you, you have no faith or trust in anything or anyone. But there are trustworthy people in this world.'

'Yes,' I said. 'There are trustworthy people in this world, but you have to take such unacceptable risks to find out who they are.'

She smiled as if pitying me and with unmuted sarcasm said, 'Life is difficult, isn't it? You have to risk what you need to get what you want.' She picked up the coffee-cups from the table and put them on a tray, making more noise than was necessary. 'I have to go out, Werner,' she said, as if by adding his name I would not be privy to this item of information.

'Yes, darling,' said Werner.

'Goodbye, Mrs Volkmann,' I said. 'It was nice to talk with you.' She glared at me. She knew I'd come back to the apartment with Werner only because I knew she had an appointment.

'I wish you and Zena got along better,' said Werner after she had gone.

'You mean you wish I'd be more polite to her.'

'She's not the easiest of people to get along with,' said Werner. 'But you always seem to say the wrong things.'

'Did you get the gun for me, Werner?'

I did my best. I followed him over to the big bookcase in which chinaware was displayed. He opened a locked drawer. Reaching into it, and groping about behind the cloth-wrapped silver cutlery, he got a Colt.38 Detective Special. He handed it to me. I took it from the fancy tooled-leather holster and examined it. Its nickel finish had almost all worn off; it must have been a quarter of a century old. At some recent time it had been fitted with a hammer shroud to reduce the chance of its discharging accidentally and shooting a hole in someone's foot. 'I know you wanted a small automatic with a silencer but this is all I could get at such short notice,' said Werner apologetically.

'It's fine,' I said. I tried to say something nice about it other than it might be a valuable antique. 'These steel-frame guns are easier to hold against the recoil the short barrel gives. I just want it to wave about, in case Stinnes suddenly has a change of mind.'

'Only one box of bullets, but they are not too ancient.'

'It's Stinnes. I just don't like the feel of it, Werner,' I said. I stuck the gun in the waist of my trousers and almost fell to the floor with the weight of it. I needed the box of bullets in my pocket to balance me. 'It's almost as if Zena doesn't want me to see Stinnes.'