Гарри Гаррисон - Montezuma’s Revenge

“What next then?”

D’Isernia waved his hand at the door. Robl took his knife back and began to stolidly clean his nails with the point.

“The car is waiting outside to take you to a local hotel, the Vasco. A room has been reserved for you in the name of John Smith—”

“Oh, that’s really original.”

“You will wait there until we send for you. And while you are waiting you will contact your associates to determine if the money has arrived, for we will not proceed until we know it is here. If all is as it should be you will examine the painting tomorrow so that tomorrow night the exchange will be made. Do you understand that?”

“It sounds simple enough.” He was hot and very thirsty and it was not that simple, and the sight of the German whittling his cuticles with the knife also did nothing to make him feel any better. “Can I go now?”

“Any time you wish. But stay in your room until we call. I do not wish the police to pick you up at this time.”

“Your concern for my welfare is touching. I’ll see you.”

The same car was waiting outside, the bullet-headed Teutonic driver still planted solidly behind the wheel as though he were bolted in place.

“Do you know where to take me?”

Another great conversationalist. What next? He had to find some way of contacting Sones without being grabbed by the police, and could think of no way. Yet he did not dare admit this to his hosts since it might jeopardize the entire operation. More and more he was beginning to feel that he was not cut out for this kind of thing; the buoyancy of the alcohol had worn off and had been replaced by depression.

They ground up the road away from the resort and when they were on the highway again, with no other cars in sight, the driver turned around and looked sternly at Tony.

“Gornischt” he said.

The suddenness of this revelation took Tony off guard and he gaped speechlessly while trying to get his thoughts into gear as the driver went slower and slower and his scowl deepened.

“Gornischt, that’s right,” Tony said. “No names, right. But You Know Who told me that I’m supposed to answer, give me a second.” He raked through his memory desperately until the countersign finally surfaced.

“Hilfen!”

“Correct. But you should be more alert, Hawkin, if you wish to remain alive in this business.”

“Listen, I don’t want to remain in this business at all. But you knew the password—then you’re not a renegade Nazi like Robl?”

“Hardly. I am an Israeli now, but it was my dubious privilege to be born in Germany. I was happily teaching chemistry at the University of Tel Aviv until that Goldstein talked me into helping out here. Like you I wish only to see this matter finished, and to return to my laboratory.”

“Amen!”

“I agree. But for the moment I am Heinrich. Too newly arrived to be in the center of German expatriate matters here, they trust no one, but familiar enough now to be hired to do odd jobs like chauffeuring. As long as I am here I am your contact. Do you have anything to report to Jacob?”

“No more than you know, probably. I’ve made the contact with Robl and D’Isernia. There has been no mention of Hoeh-hande or anyone else involved in this matter. I’m supposed to stay at this hotel until they contact me again so I can examine the painting.”

“All right, I’ll take you to the hotel now. You must let me know at once if you have any more information.”

The car moved forward quickly again and Tony called out.

“Wait, slow down. Can you contact Goldstein right now?”

“Assuredly.”

“Fine, then listen, tell him where I am staying and ask him to get a message to Sones in casta seven at the Hacienda Cocoyoc. Let Sones know where I am and have him get in touch with me at once. But the phone is surely tapped and Sones is being watched closely, so he will have to do this contact in an undercover fashion.”

“As your American expression goes, do not teach your grandmother to suck eggs. It will be done.”

The Hotel Vasco was on the highway, cryptocolonial architecture, red-tiled roof, palm surrounded. Tony signed “John Smith” on the register under the indifferent eye of the clerk, filling in the other spaces on the form with information created on the spot. The room was large, airy, cool, comfortable, and Jacob Goldstein worked very fast indeed. After a short nap Tony found his appetite had returned, but before he ordered anything something had to be done about the elements of his disguise that were becoming decidedly uncomfortable. The rings that widened his nostrils slipped out easily enough, but taking out the pads in his cheeks and behind his lips was something else again. The adhesive was indeed adhesive and the inside of his mouth was sore before he had worried the pads out. But food would take care of that. Discomfort was forgotten as he ordered up a small dinner of guacamole salad, turkey mole, % small portion of chicken enchiladas and beef tacos, along with a half bottle of a red Santo Tomas wine, followed by a pastry so sweet it hurt his teeth. This all went down quite easily and he was lighting a large La Prueba cigar, dark aromatic leaf of Veracruz, when there was a soft sort of subservient knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“I have come for the tray, senor?”

“Just a moment.”

He unlocked the door and Sones pushed in with finger to lips, frowning fiercely, making hushing motions with his other hand. Tony stood aside and gaped in silence while Billy Schultz followed, winking conspiratorially and carrying with great ease I immense suitcases. He was followed by a stranger, a large, hulking man wearing a lumpy brown suit and carrying yet another suitcase in one hand, a drawn automatic pistol in the other. I bag carriers placed their burdens down without a sound and sat on them; Sones rattled the dishes loudly as he loaded the tray and put it out in the hall.

“Thank you, senor” he said, closing and locking the door from the inside and waving Tony after him to the bathroom. He closed this door behind them as well, made a quick search of the and electrical fittings, then flushed the toilet.

“We got your message,” he whispered. “I have no idea you arranged it but it showed good thinking, you know, how it arrived. You’re shaping up a bit better.”

Tony nodded and waved his hand in a dismissing motion, taking silent credit for Goldstein’s work. It was about time someone gave him credit for something, even though undeserved.

“What’s this with all the people and bags?”

“We are moving our base. Too much surveillance now at Cocoyoc. We will stay at this hotel.”

“Why are we whispering in the toilet?”

“Electronic bugging, of course. I am surprised at you, Hawkin. Schultz is checking the other room now.”

The roar of the toilet gurgled and stopped and Sones flushed it again. Steam rose from the bowl and he stepped back, eyes wide.

“I wondered too,” Hawkin said. “The waiter told me they laid the water pipes wrong before they poured the concrete slab. It was easy enough to fix the faucets, just change the handles around, but the toilets would have been ...”

“All right now. If this place is bugged, as I am sure it is, I will go out and come in again and talk to you and you play along. I want to feed some false information to those people.”

When they emerged, the stranger was still sitting on his bag, gun in hand, but Billy was standing on the bed pointing to the light fixture on the ceiling. Tony could see nothing of interest, but Sones stood on tiptoe and peered at it and nodded under-standingly. He went to the door and knocked. Tony joined him there, feeling slightly foolish at the play acting, while Sones opened the door, rattled the knob, and closed it again quickly,