The Whispering Land

"De hand…* de hand…" Josefina said suddenly and loudly. I stuck my arm out of the window, and the speeding line of traffic behind us screeched to a shuddering halt* as Josefina swung the Land-Rover into the side turning… The shouts of rage mingled with cries of "¡Animal!"* faded behind us.

"Josefina, I do wish you would give us all a little more warning when you're going to turn," I said. Josefina turned her glittering smile on to me.

"Why?" she inquired simply.

"Well, it helps you know. It gives us a chance to prepare to meet our Maker."*

"I'ave never crash you yet, no?" she asked. "No, but I feel it's only a matter of time." We swept majestically across an intersection at forty miles an hour, and a taxi coming from the opposite direction had to apply all its brakes to avoid hitting us amidships.*

"Blurry* Bastard," said Josefina tranquilly.

"Josefina! You must not use phrases like that," I remonstrated.

"Why not?" asked Josefina innocently. "You do."

"That is not the point," I said severely.

"But it is nice to say, no?" she said with satisfaction. "And I 'ave learn more; I know Blurry Bastard and…"

"All right, all right," I said hastily. "I believe you. But for Heaven's sake don't use them in front of your mother, otherwise she'll stop you driving for me."

There were, I reflected, certain drawbacks to having beautiful young women to help you in your work. True, they could charm the birds out of the trees, but I found that they also had tenacious memories when it came to the shorter, crisper Anglo-Saxon expletives* which I was occasionally driven to using in moments of stress.

"De hand… de hand," said Josefina again, and we swept across the road, leaving a tangle of infuriated traffic behind us, and drew up outside the massive and gloomy facade of the Aduana.

Three hours later we emerged, our brains numb, our feet aching, and threw ourselves into the Land-Rover.

"Where we go to now?" inquired Josefina listlessly.

"A bar," I said, "any bar where I can have a brandy and a couple of aspirins."

"O. K.," said Josefina, letting in the clutch.

"I think tomorrow we will have success," said Mercedes, in an effort to revive our flagging spirits.

"Listen," I said with some asperity, "Señor Garcia, God bless his blue chin and eau-de-cologne-encrusted brow,* was about as much use as a beetle in a bottle. And you know it."

"No, no, Gerry. He has promised tomorrow to take me to see one of the high-up men in the Aduana." What's his name… Garcia?" "No, a Señor Dante."

"How singularly appropriate. Only a man with a name like Dante would be able to survive in the Inferno of Garcias."*

Josefina drew up outside a bar, and we assembled at a table on the edge of the pavement and sipped our drinks in depressed silence. Presently I managed to shake my mind free of the numbing effect* that the Aduana always had on it, and turn my attention to other problems.

"Lend me fifty cents, will you?" I asked Mercedes. "I want to phone up Marie."

"Why?" inquired Mercedes.

"If you must know she's promised to find me a place to keep the tapir.* The hotel won't let me keep it on the roof."

"What is a tapir?" asked Josefina interestedly.

"It's a sort of animal, about as big as a pony, with a long nose. It looks like a small elephant gone wrong."*

"I am not surprised that the hotel won't let you keep it on the roof," said Mercedes.

"But this one's only a baby about the size of a pig."

"Well, here's your fifty cents."

I found the phone, mastered the intricacies of the Argentine telephone system and dialed Marie's number.

"Marie? Gerry here. What luck about the tapir?"

"Well, my friends are away so you can't take him there. But Mama says why not bring him here and keep him in the garden."

"Are you sure that's all right?"

"Well, it was Mama's idea." "Yes, but are you sure she knows what a tapir is?"

"Yes, I told her it was a little animal with fur." 

"Not exactly a zoological description. What's she going to say when I turn up with something that's nearly bald and the size of a pig?"

"Once it's here, it's here," said Marie logically.

I sighed.

"All right. I'll bring it round this evening. O. K.?"

"O. K., and don't forget some food for it." I went back to where Josefina and Mercedes were waiting with an air of well-bred curiosity. "Well, what did she say?" inquired Mercedes at length.

"We put Operation Tapir into force* at four o'clock this afternoon."

"Where do we take it?"

"To Marie's house. Her mother's offered to keep it in the garden."

"Good God, no!" said Mercedes with considerable dramatic effect.

"Well, why not?" I asked.

"But you cannot take it there, Gerry. The garden is only a small one. Besides, Mrs. Rodriguez is very fond of her flowers."

"What's that got to do with the tapir? He'll be on a leash. Anyway, he's got to go somewhere, and that's the only offer of accommodation I've had so far."

"All right, take him there," said Mercedes with the ill-concealed air of satisfaction of one who knows she is right, "but don't say I didn't warn you."