Captain Gringo stopped Gaston in front of the blonde’s entryway and said, “You’d better wait here. She’s got a couple of oversized mutts she’d better introduce you to herself.”
Gaston shrugged as he looked up at the stars and said, “I am in no hurry. I am not sure I ought to be here. Germans have made me trés nervous since 1870. They owe me a war with better odds on the French side.”
Captain Gringo eased inside, watching out for the dogs. It was just light enough to see by in the patio, and neither Doberman seemed to be out to chew his leg off, so he walked over to the house. The living room door was open. The room inside was dark. He started to strike a light, but then he saw the light from the hallway beyond and called out, “Hey, Max?” as he walked toward it.
He stopped as he spotted the Doberman dead in the hallway. He drew his gun and stepped over it. The light was coming from a room he’d never been in. He stepped over to the doorway and looked in. Then he sobbed, “Oh, no!”
Max lay dead across the bed. He didn’t have to feel her pulse. Nobody had ever looked so dead. He glanced down at the dead dog near the foot of her bed and muttered, “You tried, old boy. They caught all three of you napping, huh?”
Then he turned and hurried outside. He grabbed Gaston on the fly and as they headed down the street the Frenchman protested, “Where are we going in such a hurry, you long-legged gorilla of mine?”
The American said, “They got Max. I found her riddled like a sieve. If we don’t go somewhere, muy pronto, they’ll get us!”
Gaston started walking faster, but after they’d whipped around a couple of corners he glanced back and said, “Wait, let us not be the chickens with our heads cut off. Before we run ourselves into the ground, would it not be better to consider whether anyone is chasing us?”
“For Chrissake, Gaston, I told you the girl was a secret agent who helped me. Isn’t it obvious what happened?”
“Mais non, it is trés weird! If the executioners were after you, why did they leave after shooting the wrong person?”
Captain Gringo started to tell him he was full of it; then he frowned and said, “You’re right. I walked in like a big-ass bird with a hard-on. If the place had been staked out, we’d both be dead by now!”
“Spoken like a lad who’s beginning to use his noodle, as you Yankee Doodles say. The girl was a secret agent, a trés dangerous trade. Any number of people might have killed a German spy for any number of reasons. I know that I, for one, might have volunteered for the job, despite your grotesque views on trusting Les Bodies.”
“Hell, I never said I trusted her. I was hoping she’d help me get you out of jail.”
“Trés bien, but since I was never in jail we can forget about that part. I have no more idea than yourself about her recent demise, but I don’t see how the local government could have been in on it. From what you’ve told me of her, they already knew she worked for the Germans. Besides, gunmen with the local law in their pockets do not hit and run. They don’t have to. Don’t you see what this might mean?”
“No. Not a fucking thing about this whole deal makes any sense at all.”
Gaston slowed down and looked back to make sure they were alone on the dark street before he said, “Nobody in the Colombian government knows anything about what’s going on, so it could not have been a police trap. Even if I was wrong about that, and some species of a mad policeman went to so much trouble to lure us back here, they just, how you say, blew up a perfect chance to trap you once again.”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “I’ll buy that. So it reads two ways. Max might have been killed by an enemy of her own. She shot people a lot and spies aren’t very popular anyway. On the other hand, if it was the same people who tricked us into coming back here, they might not have had the balls to hang around if they were spies, too!”
“Ahah! Who do you think we’re dealing with—Greystoke of British Intelligence again?”
“Maybe. Up to now he’s always hired us or tried to kill us by this late in the game. Whoever it is, and whatever they want, it didn’t work. We ran into each other before either of us could be sucked deeper into this mess. So now there’s nothing to keep us here and I suggest we get the fuck out!”
Gaston laughed and said, “Lead on, MacDuff, my old and rare. We have guns and enough money to last us a month or so and, of course, we have each other, you sweet young thing. But tell me, do we just keep walking, or is there some goal to this relentless march of yours?”
Captain Gringo said, “It’s early yet. It’s pretty obvious the cops aren’t out in force after us. We could leg it back to a hotel I know and hole up for the night. Then we could scout the railroad depot in the cold gray light and if the coast is clear …”
“You are losing me,” Gaston cut in, adding, “I do not like this hotel of yours. If you know where it is, who is to say who else knows about it?”
Captain Gringo started to explain the precautions he’d taken leaving the widow’s shabby little hotel in a barrio where he was unknown. Then he smiled sheepishly and said, “Yeah, I told the people there I was a German, and a German agent was tailing me to find out why. I don’t want to risk getting old Vanessa in trouble, anyway. But if they have the railroad depot staked out …”
Cutting in again, Gaston said, “The longer we give them to plan, the more certain we can be that they’ll get around to that sooner or later. You and I are both supposed to be lurking around the presidio, for some reason. We would be, if we had not met by chance. The paseo is just getting interesting back there. I, too, have a hotel room here in town. They may have both under observation. They don’t know that we know about the dead girl either, since they did not see fit to hang about there after they killed her. So, all in all, I consider a bee line for a choo choo the best possible move. Don’t you?”
Captain Gringo agreed and together they legged it across town to the railroad depot. Fortunately the main drag was well illuminated, so fortunately they both spotted the blue uniforms from a block away.
Captain Gringo hauled Gaston back around the corner and sighed, “Shit. Have you any other great ideas?”
Gaston shrugged and said, “A trés impressive military cordon around the depot. Perhaps a bit obvious?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter if those troopers are after us or somebody else. We sure as hell can’t walk through them now that a couple of government agents have been shot here in town.”
“How do you know the men you and Max killed were working for the military here?”
“Hah, this time I’ve got you. They had to be government agents. The government wouldn’t have covered up their killings if they’d been anyone else. El Arano may or may not know about Max. But he has to know about his own people. I’m hoping he’ll think some unreconstructed rebels left over from the recent riots did his boys in. That cordon around the depot smells like counter-guerrilla stuff. Don’t nobody leave town until we ask some questions and all that shit.”
Gaston nodded and said, “In that case, one can only suggest we don’t leave town. At least, not via that obvious exit. I don’t know how we contact the rebel mule skinners I used the last time I wanted to vacate quietly with those refugees. Everyone we worked with before has crawled under the rug to wait for better days. But at least I know the way to the north coast via the overland route through the mountain passes. I suggest we hole up somewhere, and in the morning …”
But Captain Gringo had him by the arm again and was heading back to a side street he knew that circled the depot. He said, “Nuts to that. I all but turned myself inside out looking for Vanessa’s place and the sons of bitches still caught up with me. There’s no place here in Bogotá that we can be sure of.”
“Agreed, but in that case where do you suggest we hide?”
“Nowhere. It’s a nice night. Let’s just start walking.”
“But, Dick, we can’t just wander around Bogotá all night. In a few hours people will start wondering about two strangers on their street and if we meet a police patrol—”
“Knock it off. Who said anything about walking around town all night? Bogotá’s not that big. I know the way through the favelas to the north and you know the north trail to Barranquilla. We can be out on the open road long before it’s late enough to matter.”
Gaston fell in step with him but protested, “Dick, the north road is not exactly a road. More like a goat path over hill and dale. Make that a lot of hills, with rocks and snow and banditos full of coca. We have not “had time to chat, but the last time I headed that way I had to shoot a few truculent Inca types. I was riding a fast mule, too. All in all, I feel a certain hesitancy in strolling into certain villages on foot with nothing but a lousy pistol and you, lovely as you are.”
The tall American smiled thinly and said, “Okay, so it’s the devil we know against a very spooky devil here that we don’t. Let’s just put some space between us and whatever. We’ll play it by ear after that.”
Gaston sighed and said, “I see no other choice, but, Dick, you play so noisy by ear.”
“That reminds me. We’ve got to pick up some heavier weapons along the way. Maybe some shotguns, or better yet, a machine gun.”
“Merde alors. That’s what I meant.”