"I know that, Mateo. But stay with Duarte tonight. I think that tonight someone else should sleep in your bed. Duarte suggested three pillows or a log. Then, in the morning, if there are no bullet holes in the pillows ..."
"Or the log ..."
"... or the log, then you can say it was a mistake to sleep at Duarte's house tonight. Someone followed me this morning, Mateo. I drove him crazy, but I couldn't get a look at him myself. It was very funny. But it is also serious."
Hall put the gun back in his pocket. "Maybe it is," he said. "I'll stay with Duarte."
"It is the right thing to do, Mateo. I'll leave you with Duarte. I have to see Souza and some other friends tonight."
Pepe waited at the curb until Hall was admitted to the Mexican Embassy. Then, his eyes sweeping the streets for signs of anyone shadowing him on foot or by automobile, he took the most roundabout route he could devise to reach the Transport Workers' Union headquarters.
Duarte had had no word from General Mogrado. "I'm sure he met the courier," he told Hall. "But I'm worried by his silence. It is not like him."
"Give him another night, Felipe. In the meanwhile, I'll send another letter to Havana. I just can't believe that the evidence on Ansaldo is not available on this side of the ocean. If it's nowhere else, it must be in Havana."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because I know Havana. I know what the Spanish Republicans and the secret police must have there. I tell you, Felipe, we can hang Ansaldo in Havana. Do you remember where and how I first saw Ansaldo in Burgos? Well, there was a photographer standing and working in front of me for hours that day. I know who he was, Felipe. He was the man from Arriba. I don't doubt but that either the Spaniards or the Cubans have a complete file of Arriba in Havana. And I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar that I'll find those pictures of Ansaldo in that file."