The guerrilla hideout. West no longer wears a hood and is handcuffed by his left hand to the bedpost with what seems to be a home-made handcuff designed to give him maximum flexibility. He is lying in the most comfortable position available to him, staring blankly out into space. The door opens and Carlos enters. West takes a brief glance at him, then jerks his head violently away towards the side wall.

Carlos   It’s all right, Mr West, you needn’t worry.

West turns back slowly, looks at Carlos.

West   What?

Carlos   Doesn’t matter now if you see me. My executive has decided that I am to accompany our comrades to Cuba and carry on my work there.

West   So you’re the bastard.

Carlos   What? (He grins broadly.) Oh, yes, I’m the bastard.

West   I won’t forget you.

Carlos   Well, I’m sure I won’t forget you.

West   Why are they sending you to Cuba, aren’t you good enough?

Carlos   This is none of your business, Mr West. (Pause.) I came to tell you that we are making some progress in our negotiations with the dictatorship.

West   Oh?

Carlos   Yes. Things haven’t been going as smoothly this time as in the past, but it looks as if it’s going to be all right now. We hope to have you out of here in a week or so.

West   I’m glad to hear it.

Carlos   (smiling) Patience.

West   Look, I know it’s no good my saying this, but I really don’t think this is the right way to go about things, you know. I mean, I realize everything’s very bad for you at the moment, but this kind of thing isn’t going to get you anywhere. It just puts um people’s backs up. What I mean is, if you leave it alone for a while, I’m sure things will improve in the future.

Carlos   The future is the only kind of property that the masters willingly concede to their slaves. Camus.

West   I see.

Carlos   I wanted to ask if there was anything you wanted, any way we could make you more comfortable.

West   Well. (He reflects a moment.) I was wondering if you could find something a bit lighter for me to read. (He indicates a pile of books on a table by the bed.) I mean, it’s all very interesting, all this stuff you’ve left me, and not the sort of thing I’d normally have happened across, but I do find it, you know, all those statistics and so on, rather tiring.

Carlos   I’ll ask around the boys, see what we can dig up.

West   Thanks. Oh, and there is just one other thing.

Carlos   What?

West   Can you let me have a pen and some paper?

Carlos   (hesitating) What for?

West   Well, I write poetry, you know, in fact I’ve had some published. What we used to call slim volumes of verse.

Carlos   (dubiously) Oh, I see.

West   In fact when you said you’d kidnapped me for poetic reasons, I thought for a moment it was because you’d taken against my work. I thought, very erudite class of kidnappers they have nowadays.

Carlos   Well, I suppose that’s all right.

West   (pleased) Oh.

Carlos   But you must write in Portuguese.

West   Portuguese?

Carlos   Yes, well, you can’t expect us to let you write in English, can you? As far as the others are concerned, you could be writing anything. Anyway, your Portuguese is very good, it’ll be good exercise for you, interesting for us.

West   All right, then.

You’re never going to get away with this, you know.

Carlos   Oh, come on.

West   (hurt) Well.

Carlos   You play chess?

West   Erm, yes, why?

Carlos   Well?

West   I enjoy it.

Carlos   O.K., we must play. I’m very good. (Pause.) Maybe we aren’t going to get away with it, but it doesn’t matter. There are plenty of others to carry on with the work. They try very hard, but: no one can blot out the sun with one finger. Carlos Marighela.

West   Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains. Rousseau.