Pepe laughed heartily. "Official," he said. "We can show you our orders."
"I am at Gonzales'. Can you pick me up now?"
"At once."
The sergeants were there in fifteen minutes. Pepe now drove an Army car whose color matched his uniform. They drove to the University for Jerry.
Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling the city, guarding both the Axis diplomatic buildings and the commercial houses owned by known fascists. The streets were crowded with civilians. They hung around the cafés, listening to the latest election bulletins over the café radios, or they congregated under the government's loud speakers in the plazas and the broad avenues. Even though Gamburdo had already conceded his defeat, the people awaited the results of each new count, cheered each new electoral repudiation of the Falange candidate. Everywhere the sidewalks, the gutters, the doorways of stores and buildings were littered with whole or tattered copies of the leaflets exposing Gamburdo and Ansaldo.
"We gave them a licking they won't forget so quickly," Pepe chortled.
"Yes, but they are still alive, Pepe. They took a licking in the last Spanish elections, too."
"De nada," Vicente said, grimly. "Let them try to make a second Spanish War in our Republic. We'll drown them in their own blood."
Jerry was waiting for them on the University steps. "Matt, it was amazing. Translate for me, will you? I think Pepe and Vicente would like to know, too. As soon as the word was flashed to the wards that Lavandero won the election, the serious cases started to pull through, and the others are just about ready to dance. I've never seen anything like it!"
Duarte joined them as they were finishing their soup. He was pale and upset. "The Axis got the news pretty quickly," he said. He picked up a bottle of brandy, poured a half tumbler and downed it in a gulp.