Like A Hole In The Head

     In a few moments there came an explosion of talk in Spanish. I could hear Savanto's voice, quivering with rage. I had never heard him talk this way and although I didn't understand what he was saying the sound of the rage in his voice chilled me.

     Every now and then I heard Timoteo say something. His voice was low-pitched and controlled among the other shouting voices. This went on for some time, then I heard car doors slam and cars start up.

     There was a further long wait, then Raimundo came up the ladder. He paused when he saw me sitting on the parapet and he beckoned.

     "Mr. Savanto wants you."

I followed him down the ladder and out on to the verandah.

     Savanto was sitting in a chair. Carlo was standing at the end of the verandah. He grinned idiotically at me. I went straight to Savanto. I took the clip of cartridges from my pocket and dropped it on the table in front of him.

     "Your gutless son unloaded the gun while I was in the tree," I said. "It was a certain shot. He would be dead by now if your gutless son hadn't deliberately fouled up the operation."

     Savanto stared stonily at me.

     "You should have checked the gun."

     "You think so? I had checked the gun. It was ready to shoot. Do you think I should have thought your son would have unloaded the gun? Would you have imagined he would unload the gun? Are you all that smart? The gun was ready to shoot. If you want to kick someone, kick your goddam son, not me!"

     Savanto nodded.

     "I have spoken to him. At least, he was convincing. Lopez believes the shot was impossible. From where we were watching, it looked that way. So we do it tomorrow."

     "This is tough enough without having to cope with your son."

     "You will have no further problems with him," Savanto said. "Just be certain, Mr. Benson, I have no problems with you."

     He turned to Carlo and held out his fat hand. Grinning, Carlo took from his hip pocket a flat packet carefully done up in tissue paper.

     Savanto took it and laid it on the table.

     "Here is something, Mr. Benson, to help you to be successful tomorrow. It could be something not so easily replaced next time. Please remember that."

     He got to his feet and followed by Carlo, he went down to the Cadillac.

     I hesitated for a long moment before I went to the table. The Cadillac drove away as Raimondo came up to me.

     "Leave it, soldier," he said quietly. "It's her hair. He had it cut off, but she's all right, soldier. He just wants you to know he means business."

     I stared at him.

     "Her hair?"

     He turned away.

     "It'll grow again."

     With shaking hands I opened the packet. The sight of Lucy's golden tresses, tied neatly into a switch with black ribbon, made my heart lurch.

     "When did this happen?" I said, scarcely recognising my voice.

     "This morning."

     I sat down. I had to. Suddenly there was no strength in my legs. I touched the hair, feeling its softness.

     "This morning? When you went for the whisky?"

     "No . . . after. I told you she was all right. It was after."

     "Does Timoteo know about this?"

     "Not then. Now he's back, he'll know."

     I folded the tissue paper around the switch. I couldn't bear to look at it any more.

     "I'm sorry, soldier," Raimondo said quietly.

     I turned in the chair. He was standing with his back against one of the verandah's uprights. His dark, sweating face looked troubled. His eyes shifted as they met mine.

     "Do you go along with this?" I asked. "Do you okay this . . .?" I put my hands on the tissue paper. "And this?" I let my shirt fall open so that he could see the Red Dragon brand. "Do you think a man who can do things like this could be the saviour of peasants?"

     He lifted his shoulders.

     "He gets things done, soldier. This is what counts. To get things done, he acts mean from time to time." He wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. "He has done a lot of good. Ten years ago, his people had to haul water in cans two miles to their homes. He said he would fix that. They didn't believe him. He found out a politician was having it off with his own daughter. Don't ask me how he found out . . . that's his gift . . . to find out the weakness of men. He talked to this politician. You can call it blackmail if you want to, but water pipes were laid on. Not so long ago all the stuff our people grew had to be taken into town by mules. I used to drive some of the mules. Savanto decided we should have trucks. There was another politician." He shrugged. "Savanto found out something about him. They talked and ten trucks appeared. This is the way he works." He spread his hands helplessly. "If he wants something for his people, he gets it and he doesn't give a goddam how he gets it."

     "Do these peasants know the kind of man he is?"

     "Some of them guess; some of them could know; most of them are too grateful to ask questions."

     "And you?" I stared at him.

     Raimundo pushed himself away from the verandah support. "I'm taking a swim. Do you want to come with me?"

     I shook my head.

     "It'll work out, soldier. Up to now, he has always kept his word."

"Up to now."