The telephone call was made after Lionel Tavalera had had time to think about the murder of his men by two policemen and that the next step would be to speak to their chief. Lieutenant Molina had been removed.

Palenzuela entered the hospital room to find Rudi on the cot with both of his legs in plaster casts. Major Tavalera was seated next to him in a straight chair. Palenzuela appeared genuinely astonished.

"My God, what happened?"

Tavalera said to Rudi, "Tell him what you told me. All of it."

Palenzuelr stood with his back against the wall listening to Rudi's confession, looking from Rudi's face drained of color to the clean tubes of plaster encasing his legs. Rudi spoke for several minutes, Tavalera now and again prompting him. When Rudi finished and the room was quiet, Tavalera said, "You didn't say why the woman of Boudreaux was with you at Atarbs."

Rudi said he believed she wanted to be celebrated as a heroine of the revolution.

"Go on."

And pose as a hostage to receive money from Boudreaux. He didn't know how much; the amount had not yet been decided.

This time when Rudi finished Tavalera looked at Palenzuela standing against the wall-though not the kind of wall he should be standing against-and said, "You don't tell Boudreaux any of this. You leave that to me. You understand? You don't speak to him; you're too busy inspecting buildings, or whatever you do." Tavalera rose from the chair. "I leave you alone, if you wish to say something to Rudi."

He watched the chief of municipal police straighten, bringing himself to attention before shaking his head.

"To a traitor? I have nothing to say."

In the coach on the way to the hotel and now in the bar with a glass of sherry, Tavalera had time to plan, a step at a time, how much of Rudi Calvo's confession he would tell. Not all of it, no. Not a word about the business of the hostage being a hoax. There would be satisfaction in telling it, that his woman had walked out and was now planning to rob him; but much more to be gained in the long run if he didn't tell it.

It would be far better to see the American so aroused with pity for poor Amelia that he pays the ransom to get her back. How much? It would have to be a fortune. Why ask a millionaire for anything less?

Tavalera was confident the amount would be enoughh once the money was confiscated and disappeared, the tricky part-to buy land, a home, several homes if he wished. One here, one on the peninsula of Varadero There seemed always to be ways to supplement a lean military income. In the penal colonies of Africa they would write to the families of convicts, tell them a donation would buy needed food and clothes for their unfortunate loved ones. Pesetas arrived and the miserable inmates continued to starve and die of disease. Why not? It was their due.

What Tavalera saw now, Boudreaux entering, coming to the table, was far more than a few pesetas; he was looking at his retirement after the war.

A drink arrived for Boudreaux as he sat down, whiskey with crushed ice. He said not a word to the waiter, his gaze holding on the Guardia major.

"Yes?"

"Two of Andres Palenzuela's men, it turns out, are traitors."

"You telling me this because Andres is a friend of mine?" "Andres is a friend of everyone. I tell you because one of the traitors is a friend of your man Victor Fuentes. They are the ones to consider, not our friend Andres."

Boudreaux remained silent as Tavalera told of the murder of his eight men in the escape of the cowboy and the marine, and told of Amelia Brown's presence as a hostage. When he had finished Boudreaux said, "She went riding with Novis and Victor and. uever came back." He reached into his coat for the note and handed it to Tavalera.

"Ah, I wondered," he said, unfolding the sheet of paper, stained and creased, and read, " "My dearest Rollie," " aloud. He looked at Boudreaux and went back to the note, reading the rest of it-in silence. He finished, but continued to look at the note as he said, "The poor girl, she seem very frighten."

"I would imagine," Boudreaux said, "she's scared to death."

"Why do you think they want Novis to bring the money?"

"I wondered the same thing."

"He could be with them, uh? They offer him some of it?"

"He's stupid enough. By the same token Novis is dumb loyal. I tell him to stick his hand in the fire, he'll do it."

Tavalera looked at the note again. "Deliver to Matanzas. April twenty-seventh… I'm going to be in Matanzas at that time."

"So am I," Boudreaux said. "I'm going tomorrow. I still have a mill to run. I'm in business as long as I can keep my fields from getting burned."

"You have your guerrilleros for that, good men; I know many of them."

"They're capable, yeah, but you have to keep after them." "Like any soldiers," Tavalera said, wanting to be agreeable, and paused before asking the important question. "So, you're going to pay the ransom?"

Then had to wait while Boudreaux sipped his whiskey, the American showing no emotion, nothing.

He said, "Do I have a choice?"

Tavalera eased back in his chair. He said, "You can at least appear to pay it."

"Give them what, my dirty laundry?" "I mean if you don't have the money." "That's not a problem."

They were getting to the tricky part.

"I'll be in Matanzas and a squad of my men will be on the train, but not in uniform, as men on business. I have to think how to do it, how to place my men to meet various situations. The details I can tell you in Matanzas. But to answer your question, no, don't send your laundry. Place the money in the pack, all of it, forty thousand dollars in American currency. What will you do, draw it from the bank here?"

"Yeah, but why, if you're gonna be there to arrest them?" "In case we fail. In case they have a plan so good they get away with it. They have the money, they give back your sweetheart, that lovely girl. But if you try to fool them, well, maybe they kill her."

Boudreaux took a sip of whiskey. He said, "There's something I don't understand," getting out his tailor-made cigarettes. "Why they risked their lives to save this Tyler and the marine." He lit a Sweet Cap and put them away without offering the Guardia one. "There's no news value in those two anymore; all the correspondents have gone home."

"What was the risk? They come to AtarSs intending to murder my people, took them by surprise. They did that to me, not to you. Tomorrow it will be announced, three thousand pesos reward for Tyler, as a fugitive dead or alive, and the same for the marine, Virgil Webster, an indio but he looks to be American."

"Part indio. I'm told," Boudreaux said. "I don't care what you do to them. What I want is Miss Brown back safe and sound. I'm telling you, Lionel, because I'm going to speak to the captain-general, see what he'll do about it."

"I can tell you," Tavalera said. "Blanco will point to the American fleet blockading the harbor, so scared he can hardly speak, and ask you to please don't bother him. No-listen, Rollie, what you do, leave this in my hands. I have eight dead men, a personal reason to do this for you. Trust me."