"It is a stupid way to live," Gonzales said. "To have your life depend always on your being a vegetable with a bottle. Thank you, compañero. Just let me rest here for a few minutes."
Throughout all of this, Lavandero stood over Tabio's table, staring down at the jar of pencils with a dark, ugly face. He clenched opened clenched opened clenched his fists, his fingers working to no definite rhythm, and then he looked at his fists opening and closing and for a few minutes it seemed as if he looked upon his own hands with loathing. Then, straightening up, he put his hands in the pockets of his blue jacket and turned to Hall and Gonzales. "This is no time to plan personal violence," he said. "It would be exactly what the fascists wanted."
"I am at your orders," Hall said. "I think you know that."
"I am counting on you."
"What do I do now?"
"Keep out of sight for a few hours. I think you should go to Gonzales' house. I'll get you an official car and a chauffeur."
"I'm not alone," Hall said. He told Lavandero about Jerry and the death of Androtten.
"Madre de Dios, take her with you! And keep her hidden." The sweat pouring down his face betrayed Lavandero's excitement; his voice was calm and steady. "I'll send an armed guard with you."
"I'll get the nurse," Gonzales said.
"No. Don't get up. Tell us where she is."