I was amused to see that Salvador still thought I was in love with Meche despite my denial. Otherwise, his letter actually made me feel pretty good. Not about the lousy situation, of course, but for making a contribution to the LSA. In the back of my mind I felt like I was just playing at secret agent. But here I had learned something and Sal was taking it into his calculations.
OK, so what next for danger man? The LSA had a few problems, mainly lack of manpower and lack of money. There wasn’t much I could do about the latter, although I still had that vague little notion germinating somewhere in my head. Sal and Eva were looking for new recruits, and I was supposed to be doing the same. But what the hell were ‘genuine revolutionary instincts’?
I had told Carla about my youthful flirtation with Marx. I had been pretty serious about it at the time, but now I looked at it as just a stage. ‘Who was that kid?’ I would think to myself later in life. I got so detached I just couldn’t relate to that earlier, more passionate version of myself. What I still didn’t know was whether I had been a revolutionary or just a punk thumbing his nose at a world he didn’t like. So how the hell could I tell the difference in anyone else?
On the other hand, I had also told Carla that Marxism was basically about justice. I still cared about that. Maybe I cared more now than when I was alive. Maybe that’s all I needed to look for. Salvador had never quizzed me on ideology, yet he seemed to be taking me for a genuine revolutionary. I didn’t think I was. I was just burned up about what was done to Meche. And to all the others, whoever they were. I wanted the LSA to find the bastards responsible and take care of them. But no matter how hard I thought about these things, I wasn’t any closer to understanding what Sal really wanted from me, which just left me with whatever I could manage to work out on my own.
I was hanging around the Blue Casket regularly. Without Carla, of course, since she swore she’d never go back. I went there mainly because I wanted to hear Olivia recite her poetry, although after that first night she mostly kept off the stage. I was also keeping watch on the three guys Carla and I had overheard that first night. Not exactly deliberately. Not at first. I just had revolution on my mind and those three were usually in the club. Sometimes they were by themselves, sometimes there were others with them, but those three were always together. Whenever I could manage it I got a table next to theirs and listened as well as I could.
Jesus quickly tired of opening the automat, so I moved to that spot and he did the close. That meant I saw less of night-owl Carla and more of Velasco and had to weather the full brunt of the lunch crowd. I also had to take delivery of supplies first thing in the morning. I was very interested to see that the delivery guy was one of the three from the Blue Casket. His name was Alexi and he was a very interesting study. He was the most purely ideological of the three and tended to rein in the other two when they were in disagreement.
I learned from Velasco that Alexi and his friends were trying to organize the dock workers, which struck me as a little strange. “Isn’t there a union already?” I asked him, feeling certain I remembered him mentioning the martime union the day I’d arrived in town.
Velasco laughed. “Sure there is,” he said, “and it’s as crooked as that cat track.”
“I get it,” I said. “The union bosses make out all right, don’t they?”
“Like bandits, son. I stay as far out of their way as I can m’self, but Alexi’s little gang wants to take ’em on tooth ’n’ nail.”
“Yeah?” That was interesting. Did they do more than talk about revolution? “What exactly are they doing?”
“Shouting a lot, mostly. ‘Lay down your tools’ and that sort of thing. The union’s muscle keep kicking them off the docks, but they keep on coming back for more.”
“Are they getting anywhere?” I wanted to know.
“No, not really,” Velasco said. “Oh, well, some of the Sea Bees listen now and again but the union has the dock area pretty well under control. They even shut down the bar that used to be down there, the Rusty Anchor it was called, so they wouldn’t have a place to congregate or whatever the hell it was they called it.”
“So what do you think about it all?”
“I think they’re a bunch of damn fools! That’s what I think. Just tilting at windmills. Idiots!”
Velasco may have thought Alexi and his friends were idiots, but what I had learned was giving me ideas. I started to actively look for Alexi’s group in the Blue Casket. I even kept an eye out for them on the docks whenever I’d meet with Glottis. I didn’t talk much to Alexi, though, when he came to the Rub-a-Mat in the morning. I just kept things on business, partly because I didn’t want to spook him by tipping my hand too early. I also held back because I wanted to brush up on Marx, Lenin and Trotsky since that seemed to pretty much define the doctrinal stream Alexi’s gang were swimming in. But eventually I’d seen and heard enough and one morning I made my move.
“So are you getting anywhere with the dock workers?” I tried to ask casually.
Alexi just looked at me coldly. “I know you’ve been spying on us,” he said. “Are you trying to freak out our plans for organizing labor and rat us out to your pal, Chief Bogen?” That was Rubacava’s chief of police.
“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen Bogen,” I said, “and I’m not spying on you.”
“Then what are you up to, cube?” he asked. “You’re always in the club, you hang around the docks—and don’t try to jive me it’s only about that Glottis cat—and now you’re quizzing me. You expect me to believe that isn’t spying?”
“Maybe I’m just interested in revolution,” I said. “Maybe I didn’t know the best way to get in with you guys. I’m on your side, not Bogen’s.”
“You look like a tool of the Man to me, Calavera,” Alexi said. “What do you know about the revolution?”
“I believe in justice,” I said. “If that isn’t enough for you, then you’re the tool here.”
That only made him angry. He got up close and looked down at me although he wasn’t that much taller. “You just keep your distance, Clyde,” he said and left.
“Well,” I said to myself after he’d gone, “I didn’t handle that too well.”
“I dunno why you’re so interested in these guys,” Glottis said to me when I told him the story that afternoon. “Everybody in town knows ’em. You keep telling me to be discreet, Manny, so what the hell’s so damn discreet about hollerin’ up and down the docks all day long?” His ears twitched in annoyance.
“Nothing,” I said, “and that’s kind of the point. No one’s going to suspect them of working for the LSA if they keep on making the same old noise.”
“Does anybody besides you and me even know that the LSA exists?” Glottis asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. People will, eventually.”
“OK,” Glottis said. “People might overlook these guys if they’re too obvious. But other’n that…?”
“They’ve got convictions,” I said. “They’re trying to change things. That’s pretty rare. Most people just want to get out of the Land of the Dead as quick as they can. Alexi and his friends are about the only bunch I’ve seen in Rubacava who are different.”
“I dunno, Manny,” Glottis said with a shake of his head. “I’ve heard their speeches. I don’t think fixin’ the DOD is what these guys are after.”