"Tell Escalante it was my fault," Hall laughed.
"You'd better sign a sworn statement."
"Tomorrow. Listen, Eduardo, there is something you must do for me. Santiago has a file on a man named Marcelino Gassau. I want the whole thing copied on microfilm, four negatives of everything in the file. Can you have it done in your dark room tomorrow morning?"
"Consider it done, Mateo."
Rafael drank his beer and cursed the magazines for not having the pictures of Ansaldo that Hall wanted. "Let's get back to work," he said, impatiently. "Let's find the damned pictures if they're here."
Hall and Santiago sat down at the desk and started to go through individual issues of various fascist publications for the year 1938. While they worked, Hall asked Santiago if he knew the Figueroa whom he had to see in the Mexican Embassy.
"He is a friend," the Spaniard said. "He is completely reliable. He will do anything you ask within reason—and nearly anything that is without reason at all."
None of the men found the photo Hall was seeking by the time he was ready to leave for General Lobo's headquarters. "I'll get you a taxi," Eduardo said. "You can take a look at the AP ticker in the wire room in the meanwhile. There might be some news on Tabio's condition."
The wires reported that Tabio still breathed.