Part 70 (1/2)

”Three days ago, Mateo. There was a meeting of the Student Council to Aid the United Nations at the University. The hall was packed. Then the Cross and Sword gunmen stormed the entrances and fired point blank into the crowd. There were over fifteen deaths, and so many injured that the University authorities established an emergency hospital in five lecture rooms. Your Jerry has been there since. The commanding general of this area is loyal to the Republic; he called up the reserves.”

”What about Jerry? I've been trying to reach her all morning.”

”She is wonderful. All the patients are trying to teach her Spanish.”

”What are we waiting for? Let's go to the University.”

”Not me. I've got to go back to the Emba.s.sy. Lobo says he can meet us both for lunch at the Emba.s.sy.”

”I'll make it. Let's go. Oh, one more thing. I put through some calls to New York. And some are coming in. I gave your office as one of the places I could be reached.”

”Don't be late.”

Jerry could spend only a few minutes with Hall on the University steps.

”Gonzales told me that you were safe,” she said. ”And also what you accomplished. I'm proud of you, Matt.”

”I worried about you,” he said. ”Were you scared when you found yourself in a war zone?”

”No. Just angry. Maria Luisa was at the meeting when the shooting started. She wasn't hurt, thank G.o.d, but she was a b.l.o.o.d.y mess when she got home. Gonzales and I left for the University at once. I've been here, since. We've had four deaths to date.”

”When can you get away?”

”Not till dinner time. But things are easing up. We've been able to transfer more than half of our cases to the hospitals.”

”The Bolivar at eight.”

He took a cab to the Mexican Emba.s.sy. The driver was beaming as he shut the door. He told Hall that the early returns were overwhelmingly in favor of Lavandero. ”Yes, senor,” he laughed, ”the fascists are on the run today. The lines formed outside of the polling places three and even four hours before they opened. Did you see what fell from the planes yesterday? Did you see the papers? Those dirty fascists!”

Duarte had figures to back up the cab driver's story when Hall reached the Mexican Emba.s.sy. ”It is a wonderful victory, Mateo,” he said. ”The tide is running so strongly that Gamburdo is expected to concede the election before the polls close at five.”

”The b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Where's Lobo?”

”He'll be here in a minute. Let me show you some of the leaflets. I'll bet you haven't seen one yet.”

The leaflet was the size of a standard newspaper page, printed on both sides. There was the large picture of Gamburdo embracing Ansaldo smack up against the shot of Ansaldo, in fascist uniform, giving the fascist salute along with the n.a.z.i and the Italian officers. Most of the Falange doc.u.ments proving the Axis ties of Gamburdo and the Cross and Sword were also reproduced on the single sheet.

”It turned the election,” Duarte said. ”Until yesterday, the fascists were spreading the story that Lavandero had kept Ansaldo from operating in time. Gamburdo was so anxious to grab the credit for Ansaldo that he dug his own grave.”

”He's not in the grave, yet.”

”Be patient.”

Lobo walked into the office. He was wearing his regulation tan uniform.

”Mateo,” he shouted, ”you're a fraud! I heard you were wearing a Cuban officer's uniform.”

”It's in shreds, Jaime.”

Lobo eased his long frame into Duarte's favorite chair. ”I thought you'd never gotten through,” he said. ”After the second day of silence I was sure the fascists had clipped your wings. Don't bother to tell me about your hards.h.i.+ps, though. I've already seen Segador.”