“No, but I don’t see why you are telling me all this.”
“Be patient. You have seen something of Timoteo. He isn’t an impressive man, but nor was my father. He is a dreamer and an idealist and he is intelligent. He is also sentimental. He met a girl and fell in love with her. He came to me and said he wanted to marry this girl. He brought her to me.” Savanto fumbled in his pocket. “Have you a cigarette, Mr. Benson, you can spare? I never seem to carry cigarettes with me.”
I put my pack of cigarettes on the table. He helped himself and I gave him a light.
“As soon as I saw this girl I knew Timoteo was making a mistake. She was not for him. She was pretty and so on, but light- minded. I told him so, but he was in love.” Savanto shrugged his shoulders. “I persuaded him to wait a year.” He studied the end of his cigarette and then went on. Now we come to my nephew, Diaz Savanto. He is as like Timoteo as a tiger is like a lamb. He is a big, fine-looking man; very athletic, a splendid polo player, a good shot and a great success with women. He too met this girl Timoteo had fallen in love with. He knew Timoteo was in love with her.” Savanto paused again, frowning. “My brother and I quarrelled bitterly. Diaz despised the Little Brothers, despised me and despised Timoteo. He is a bad man, Mr. Benson. He decided this girl gave him the opportunity he had been waiting for to show his contempt for me, my son and my organisation. He kidnapped the girl, raped her and branded her. In the old days, members of the Red Dragon organisation branded their cattle with their symbol.” Savanto looked down at his fat hands, frowning. He remained like that for some moments, then went on. “He branded this girl with the Red Dragon symbol. An insult like that can only be wiped out by death. I am the Chief of the Little Brothers. I had only to raise my hand and my nephew would die. But I am unable to do this because what he has done is a personal insult to my son. It is my son who has personally to avenge the insult.”
I moved uneasily, but I was listening.
“All the members of the Little Brothers know of this insult,” Savanto went on. “They are waiting to hear that Diaz Savanto is dead, killed by my son’s hand. They know Timoteo is taking shooting lessons. They are patient people, but they are waiting and they are becoming less patient. Diaz knows Timoteo is incapable of killing anyone. He knows Timoteo takes after his grandfather : a life is sacred and belongs to God. That was what my father thought and that is what Timoteo thinks. This is the mental block you speak of. But revenge is part of our tradition. My people don’t think the way Timoteo thinks. If he doesn’t kill Diaz the name of Savanto will be disgraced. I will no longer be Chief.” He finished his whisky. “Now, Mr. Benson, perhaps you understand my problem.”
“I don’t know why you are telling me this. I have returned your money and that lets me out,” I said as I got to my feet. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
He put his hand gently on my arm.
“Have patience with me for a few more minutes.” Then raising his voice, he called, “Raimundo ! ”
Raimundo came out on to the verandah carrying a curious- looking instrument. It was made of iron, set in a wooden handle: the end of the iron was red hot.
“Demonstrate to Mr. Benson the Red Dragon branding-iron," Savanto said quietly.
Raimundo pressed the red-hot iron against one of the wooden uprights of the verandah. I watched the wisp of smoke spiral away from the wood. Raimundo removed the iron, then with a quick look at me, he went back into the house.
“Please look at what he has done,” Savanto said. “It is the brand of the Red Dragon. It is of historic interest.”
I moved over and looked at the brand-mark. It was about an inch long, depicting a crude animal with a forked tail and a snout like crocodile.
“That was branded on the face of the girl Timoteo wished to marry,” Savanto said.
I turned.
“Are you and your tribe so primitive that you can’t turn this over to the police?” I said.
“Yes. It is a personal thing.”
“Did the girl think so?”
Savanto shrugged his shoulders.
“It is not the girl. It is the insult.”
“What happened to her?”
"Mr. Benson, don’t become too curious. Please sit down.”
“I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You are involved in this.” He stared at me. “Let me finish. Please sit down.”
So I sat down.
“You will understand from what I have told von, I had a problem. I suspected Timoteo couldn’t do what was expected of him. I heard about yon : a first-class shot : a man who spent three years in the jungle as a sniper. A sniper is a legalised killer, Mr. Benson. I decided you were the man I was looking for. I let it be known that Timoteo was taking shooting lessons. The news pleased my people and it amused Diaz because Diaz is no fool. He knew, as I suspected, that no one could teach Timoteo to shoot, but my people don’t know and that is important.”
“They’ll know now,” I said.
“Not if my thinking is correct,” Savanto said. “You see, Mr. Benson, you are going to deputise for my son : you are going to kill Diaz Savanto.”
I sat for a long moment staring at him. I felt a cold prickle run up my spine.
“Your thinking is not correct,” I said.
"Mr. Benson, this is important to me, to Timoteo and to my organisation. It is not that I mind losing the power I have. I am getting old. If there was someone to replace me, then I would go, but there is no one. I represent the rights and interests of a quarter of a million peasants. Because of my efforts, they are no longer starving, but there is still much to be done. I…”
“Your thinking is not correct,” I repeated.
“I am now offering you two hundred thousand dollars to take my son’s place. Think carefully, Mr. Benson. How many men have you already killed in cold blood? Eighty-two? What is one more life to you?”
“I was a soldier… a soldier has to kill. I’m no longer a soldier so I am not doing it. And let me tell you something : your son’s thinking is right. If you are too primitive to know this, then take it from me.”
I got up and walked into the lobby of the house.
Raimundo was leaning against the wall close to an open door through which I could see Carlo, sitting at a table, picking his teeth with a splinter of wood.
“I want the key of my car,” I said to Raimundo.
I was set to hit him. I knew I hadn’t much of a chance.
He looked at me thoughtfully, then he took the key from his pocket and tossed it to me.
I backed away, turned and started to cross the verandah.
“So you are leaving, Mr. Benson,” Savanto said.
I ignored him, going down the steps to the car.
“If you are returning to your wife, Mr. Benson, there is no need to hurry. She won’t be there.”