"Caracas. Someone is meeting me there."
The General laughed. "Caracas? Ay, we'll get you back to Caracas in style, chico." He opened his cigar box, held it out in front of Hall. "By the way, Mateo," he said, "I never asked you before. Are you a Red?"
"No. I'm a Red, White and Blue Kid. Why?"
"Your government. Your embassy in San Hermano was sure that Pepe Stalin was paying for your rice and beans. They asked your Embassy here to check on you with me."
"What did you tell them?"
"Naturally, I told them that you were an agent. Si, señor! I told them that you were a triple agent: mornings for the Kuomintang, afternoons for the Grand Llama of Tibet, and evenings for the Protocols of Zion. You'd better be careful when you get back to New York."
"You bastard!"
"Where are you going now? Me, I'm going right back to that party. I promised a certain Vassar female, in my halting English, that I would be back. Can I drop you anywhere?"
"I'm going to the Casa de la Cultura."
"Good. But listen, Mateo, give me at least five hours' notice if you decide to do any scholarly research on Oficios Street, eh? Vámonos."