Sucre was shouting at the other two venceristas. Then he ran down the length of the saloon and screamed at the Moroccan and Algerian men standing there. He slapped one, punched another in the belly, and clubbed a third with his rifle, sending the man crumpling to the deck. More venceristas piled in through the door, waving their guns. Sucre kicked one of the Algerians in the leg, making the man hop about, trying to keep his balance while not moving his hands from the back of his head; Sucre kicked him in the other leg, making him fall over.
'Hisako, Hisako, Philippe said. She leant her head on his shoulder, and looked through the room; at Sucre kicking the curled up Algerian lying on the floor near the far wall; at Mandamus, squatting beneath an up-ended chair, bulging out from under it like a snail too big for its shell; at Broekman, lying on the floor, looking up now; at Janney and the Bleveans, Captain Bleveans holding his wife's head down near the floor at the side of the couch the motionless Janney lay upon; at Endo, sitting back against the wall, cross-legged, like a slim-line buddha.
'Hisako —
'These men were very stupid! Sucre shrieked at them, waving his gun at the Moroccans and Algerians. 'They died, see! He kicked one of the bodies on the floor. They weren't all dead; Hisako could hear moans. 'This what you want? Sucre shouted. 'This what you want? They died like that stupid gringo kid out there! Hisako wondered if anyone of the people Sucre was shouting at would realise he meant Orrick. 'You want this, do you? You want to die? Is that what you want, huh? Is it?
He seemed really to want an answer. Bleveans said, 'No, sir, in a calm, measured voice.
Sucre looked at him, took a deep breath. He nodded. 'Yeah, well. We been kind too long. You get tied up now.
Bleveans and Philippe tried to argue, but it did no good. They were all made to sit down. Three venceristas covered them while Sucre disappeared for five minutes. He came back with a box full of plastic restrainers; loops of toothed nylon which fitted over their wrists and were pulled tight. Sucre and one of the other venceristas started with the remaining Algerians and Moroccans. Hisako watched; they had to put their hands behind their backs first before the restrainers were put on. Philippe tried to talk to her, but one of the venceristas hissed at him when he spoke, and shook his head. Philippe held Hisako's hand.
A third guerrilla was dragging the bodies away, taking them by feet or hands and hauling them out through the door. She was sure that even over the ringing in her ears she could hear moans as the Algerians and Moroccans were pulled out. The vencerista was away for few minutes each time. She wondered if they were just dumping the bodies over the side, but doubted it.
She sat on the lounge carpet, trying to assess how she felt. Jangly; as though her body was some assemblage of delicately balanced, highly stressed components which had been roughly shaken and left ringing with the after-effects of shock. Her face stung a little on both cheeks, where Sucre had slapped her. She tasted blood in her mouth, but not very much, and she couldn't find where it was coming from. The atmosphere in the saloon seemed thicker now; the air tasted of smoke and blood, and the place looked old and worn-out, already grubby after just one night. She felt herself shiver in the yukata, though she wasn't cold.
'Comrade Major, Bleveans said to Sucre, after the vencerista had tied up the Koreans in the middle of the room and approached the others. 'Leave the woman, huh?
Sucre looked down at Bleveans, who gazed as calmly back. Sucre smiled faintly. Mrs Bleveans sat curled up between her husband and the couch where Janney lay, eyes open again and blinking confusedly up at the ceiling. Sucre had one of the nylon restrainers in his hand. He played with it, twisting it around his hand as though he was tossing a coin.
Bleveans put his hands out towards Sucre, wrists together. 'Will you?
Sucre took hold of both Bleveans's hands in one of his, and pulled the American round, as though pirouetting a dance partner. When Sucre let go, Bleveans brought first one hand then the other round behind him; Sucre slipped a restrainer over his wrists and pulled it tight. He put his mouth near Bleveans's ear and said, 'Say please, Captain.
'Please, Comrade Major, Bleveans said evenly. Sucre turned away, expressionless. He looked down at Gordon Janney, lying with his eyes half-open under the bulky bandages, but moving and his lips working like somebody having a bad dream. Sucre used two of the restrainers to secure one of the man's ankles to the arm of the couch. He ignored Mrs Bleveans.
Philippe let himself be tied. Sucre looked at Hisako for a moment, rubbing the side of his neck where she'd hit him earlier. She wondered what he was going to do. Maybe he would tie her up after all.
Sucre grabbed her right ankle, pulled her towards him a half-metre or so across the carpet. 'Su — Comrade Major — Philippe began. Sucre took hold of his ankle too. He put one nylon loop round Philippe's leg and put a fully opened restrainer round Hisako's, then passed one through the other and tightened them, leaving her and Philippe hobbled to each other.
Broekman let himself be tied up without comment. 'Comrade Major, this really is unnecessary, Mandamus said. He was sweating heavily, and a tic jigged at the side of his face. 'I am no threat to you. I am not of a shape or size to crawl through portholes or engage in other acts of derring-do, and while I may not agree with all the venceristas's methods, I am broadly on your side. Please, let me ask you to —
'Shut up or I tape your mouth too, Sucre said. He secured Mandamus, then Endo, who was already sitting quietly with his hands behind his back. He left Marie Boulard with her hands free, too.
'This was stupid, Sucre told them, when he'd finished. He put his boot under the last body left on the floor and turned it over. The vencerista taking the bodies out came back into the saloon; Sucre nodded to him, and he dragged that corpse away as well, adding another smear of blood to the patterned carpet.
Sucre looked at Hisako. 'I want to know who the blond kid was. He glanced at Bleveans, but his gaze settled back on her.
She looked down at the 8-shaped nylon bands shackling her to Philippe. 'Steve Orrick, she said.
She had to repeat the name. She explained who he'd been; the others confirmed what she said when Sucre asked. He seemed to believe them.
'OK, he told them. 'This time we good to you, OK? He looked round them, as though wanting to be contradicted. 'OK. You stay like that till we go.
'Uh, what about using the heads, Comrade Major? Bleveans asked.
Sucre looked amused. 'You just have to get help, Captain.
'We weren't being allowed into the heads with anybody else, Bleveans reminded him.
Sucre shrugged. 'Too bad.
'How much longer you going to keep us here, Comrade Major? Bleveans asked.
Sucre just smiled.
The vencerista behind the bar was counting used cartridges into a series of beer glasses. The chink chink noise formed a background like the sound of coins being dropped into a till. They were allowed to talk quietly. They'd been split into more distinct groups; the officers and passengers formed one, the remaining Moroccans and Algerians the smallest, and the Koreans the largest; the rest were lumped together into another. They could talk with people in their own group, but weren't allowed to communicate with another.