Raymond Benson - Doubleshot

Javier gave way so that the picador could gallop his horse around the ring, leading the bull into a charge. The horse turned sharply, heading off the bull so that the picador could thrust the lance into the bull’s withers, the hump on its back that was the gateway to its vital organs.

The signal was given for the change in acts, to the tercio de banderillas. The banderilleros were older men, usually matadors who never made it to the top. They strutted out into the field, each holding a pair of the colorful spikes called banderillas. Again, each man had to taunt the bull to charge and, as it came within inches of his body, accurately thrust both spikes into the bull’s withers. It was one of the most dangerous parts of the bullfight, since the bull, at this point, was in pain, angry, and ready to gore anything that moved.

The bull charged Javier’s first banderillero, who was standing alone and unprotected near the center of the ring, the sticks held high above his head, back arched, and raised on tiptoes. He neatly sidestepped the animal and stabbed it with the spikes. The crowd cried out in approval. After the second pair of spikes was delivered, Javier motioned to the corrida president that he would opt to administer the third pair.

Javier moved to the center of the ring and beckoned to the bull. The animal was now wary of the men in the colorful costumes. He was learning and adapting his strategy for attack. Without warning, the bull charged and brushed against Javier, knocking him to the ground. Javier dropped the spikes and rolled to avoid being gored. The spectators gasped loudly. Javier jumped to his feet before the bull could turn and charge again. Forced to retreat to the fence, Javier brushed off the accident and picked up two more spikes.

This time, Javier boldly moved to the center of the ring and called to the bull. He arched his back and held the sticks high. It charged and the matador perfectly administered the spikes. The spectators roared.

It was time for the third and final act, the tercio de la muerte. The president gave his permission for the bull to be killed, something that was always traditionally asked for by the matador. Javier then looked around the bullring for someone to dedicate the bull to. Matadors would often pay tribute to a woman, a visiting dignitary, a friend or relative, by offering his hat to that person. If he wished to dedicate the fight to the entire crowd, he would throw the hat into the ring.

Javier strode toward the section where Bond was sitting. Their eyes met, and Javier flung the hat up and over the heads of the people in the first rows. Bond reached and caught the hat as the audience applauded. Javier smiled at Bond, then took his cape and sword from his assistant.

The matador has a time limit in which to kill the bull in the third act. It has to be done with precision, for no one likes to see the bull suffer. Aimed correctly, the estoque would sever the bull’s spinal cord and other vital organs, killing it quickly. If it were still alive after falling to the ground, a member of the team would stab it in the back of the head with a short knife. Death was then instantaneous.

Javier stood in the middle of the ring, daring the bull to come closer and closer with each charge. He expertly twirled the cape, holding back the sword so that the bull would not expect it. This is the point at which a matador indulges in his most risky maneuvers, allowing the bull to get as near to his body as possible. With each pass, the crowd cried, “Olé!” and cheered. The music started up again and the first bullfight was quickly approaching its climax.

The dance of the matador and the bull became a ballet as Javier created beautiful flourishes with the cape, sometimes dropping to one knee to accept the animal’s charge. He enthralled the crowd by performing a kneeling pinwheel maneuver. In this vulnerable position the matador moved the cape to one side, crossing his body with his arm. Then, once the horns passed, he spun in the opposite direction to the bull’s charge, wrapping the cape around his hips. It was a decorative pass, but it was necessary with a quick-turning bull such as this one.

Finally, Javier faced the bull and dropped to his knees again. He called to the bull, daring it to charge a defenseless man on his knees.

“He is brave, that young man,” Margareta said.

At that moment, one of the banderilleros, the only one dressed in red, stepped out of the shield directly behind the bull, in Javier’s view. He stood there a moment, as if waiting for some kind of reaction from Javier.

Bond could see that something was wrong. Javier stood and, for a moment, he looked at the banderillero. He rubbed his eyes and appeared disoriented. The bull sensed the man’s hesitation and charged.

The crowd screamed as Javier was picked up by the bull’s horns and thrown over the animal’s back. Javier landed with a thud on the ground. The rest of the team ran toward him, shouting, attempting to attract the bull’s attention, but the animal wasn’t to be distracted. It turned and plunged its horns into the matador’s body. There were more screams from the spectators. Bond stood in alarm, clutching Javier’s hat.

The banderillero in red had disappeared.

The men brought out a stretcher and rolled Javier’s body onto it. The blood on his side was quite evident. In the meantime, one of the other matadors came out to finish the job. Taking a cape and sword, the new man stood in front of the bull and held the sword out in front, taking careful aim. Then, just as the bull charged, the matador lunged forward and thrust the sword into the bull’s back. It was a perfect kill. The crowd cheered wildly as the bull collapsed, the blood pouring out if its wound.

Bond began to move out of the stand. “I have to see about Javier,” he muttered to the woman.

She followed him down the stairs into the pasillo, where a number of people had already gathered to see about Javier Rojo’s condition.

Hedy stood and spoke into her mike. “He’s on the move, and that woman who was sitting with him is right behind him. Damn, he’s getting lost in the crowd.” She shoved her way out of the row and attempted to keep sight of Bond, but the swarm of spectators blocked her view.

Bond pushed through the crowd, running toward the enfermería, a fully equipped emergency room.

What the hell happened out there? Had he imagined it?

He got caught up in the mass of people, and suddenly Bond’s head started to spin and he felt pressure in his chest.

“Let me through!” he tried to shout, but no one could hear him.

Someone cried, “Javier Rojo is dead!” There were screams of despair from the crowd.

Bond’s vision blurred and he stumbled, but he felt a soft hand take his.

“Come with me,” Margareta said.

Bond let her lead him out of the crowd and into the chapel, often called the “place of fright,” because that’s where the matadors left their fear before entering the bullring.

Bond collapsed to his knees.

“You don’t look well, Mr. Bond,” Margareta said.

“Who … are … you?” Bond asked, but the words came out as gibberish.

Margareta walked around him and opened a side door. The banderillero in red entered the chapel and began to remove his costume.

Bond looked up through the hazy film in his eyes and attempted to focus on the man who had killed his friend.

“Murderer …” Bond gasped.

The vision became a little clearer.

The banderillero was the double—the man who looked like Bond! Javier had become fatally distracted when he saw his “friend” in the bullring!

Margareta slammed the butt of a pistol down on the back of Bond’s head.