"Because I intend to live for a long time after the war, darling. And I'd like something for my old age. Not inflation-swelled war dollars, but real hard money. That's where the politics comes in, Matt. It costs like hell to start a mine. I'd have to dip into my reserves to get it started, or get partners and let them pay for the works. But they wouldn't do it for nothing. They'd wind up with an unhealthy share of the profits. This is my baby, and under certain circumstances I can run it by myself and make money at it. But those circumstances are determined by the politics here."
"By that," Hall said, "I take it you mean Tabio's politics?"
Margaret was not smiling now. Her eyes had narrowed down to sharp slits, and although she talked as fluently about the mine and Tabio as she had earlier discussed soy beans, her voice had taken on a sharp, metallic edge. "I most certainly do," she said.
"Then you agree with Fernandez and the Cross and Sword crowd?"
"Now don't tell me," she said, wearily, "that they are all a bunch of dirty fascists."
"I'm not telling you a thing. I'm here to get the lowdown, not to hang labels on everyone in San Hermano."
"Thank God for that," she said. "I can give you the lowdown, if you really want it."
"That's what I'm here for."
"I'm so sick of these smart-aleck pundits who are so quick to hang the fascist label on everything they don't like," Margaret said. "I'm not afraid of labels. I'm only interested in the facts. I'm interested in my manganese operation. I'm interested in protecting what I have. And I'll fight against anyone who tries to steal what's rightfully mine."
"You've been threatened?"