"Then get some rest. I've got to complete my report." Duarte turned to his typewriter, glanced at what he had written on the sheet in the machine. "Mateo," he said, "I'm meeting Dr. Gonzales in an hour. We're going to try to reach Lavandero with your Havana information on Ansaldo. Will you join me?"
"No. I have some unfinished business myself. I think that before the night is over we'll know a lot more about Ansaldo."
"What are you going to do?"
Hall stifled a yawn. "I'm going to take a chance and shoot the works on someone who can talk. It might work."
"Be careful, Mateo. You look very tired."
"I'll turn in early. Let's have breakfast at your place tomorrow, eh?"
Hall found a phone booth in a tobacco shop near the Embassy. He called Jerry.
"I knew it would be you," she said. "I was waiting for you to call, you dog."
"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I'm taking you to dinner."
"I'm famished. Where are you?"