"Politics. They take their politics seriously down here. Was it true that you were followed?"
"Yes. But not by the Reds. By the fascists."
"Are there any fascists down here?" This in a tone of detached amusement.
"A few. How well do you know Fernandez?"
"Quite well. He's one of the few gentlemen in San Hermano. Comes from an old Spanish aristocratic family. Did you really have an appointment with him?"
"It wasn't definite. He told me he had heard of some Red plot to bump me off. I just kidded him along."
"Mr. Fernandez is really very well informed," Smith said. "He has a crack staff of reporters, and the information that they pick up shouldn't be ignored."
"Yeah," Hall said. "I hear he's good. Matter of fact, I heard Imparcial is getting the Cabot Prize this year."
It was like a shaft driven into Smith's armor. "No!" he exclaimed. "Who told you?"
"Some puta," Hall said, dryly. "In bed." He watched the blood rushing to Orville Smith's head. "You'd be surprised at what a gal who sleeps around can pick up."