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“Amen!”

“I agree. But for the moment I am Heinrich. Too newly arrived to be in the center of German expatriate matters here, they trust no one, but familiar enough now to be hired to do odd jobs like chauffeuring. As long as I am here I am your contact. Do you have anything to report to Jacob?”

“No more than you know, probably. I’ve made the contact with Robl and D’Isernia. There has been no mention of Hoeh-hande or anyone else involved in this matter. I’m supposed to stay at this hotel until they contact me again so I can examine the painting.”

“All right, I’ll take you to the hotel now. You must let me know at once if you have any more information.”

The car moved forward quickly again and Tony called out.

“Wait, slow down. Can you contact Goldstein right now?”

“Assuredly.”

“Fine, then listen, tell him where I am staying and ask him to get a message to Sones in casta seven at the Hacienda Cocoyoc. Let Sones know where I am and have him get in touch with me at once. But the phone is surely tapped and Sones is being watched closely, so he will have to do this contact in an undercover fashion.”

“As your American expression goes, do not teach your grandmother to suck eggs. It will be done.”

The Hotel Vasco was on the highway, cryptocolonial architecture, red-tiled roof, palm surrounded. Tony signed “John Smith” on the register under the indifferent eye of the clerk, filling in the other spaces on the form with information created on the spot. The room was large, airy, cool, comfortable, and Jacob Goldstein worked very fast indeed. After a short nap Tony found his appetite had returned, but before he ordered anything something had to be done about the elements of his disguise that were becoming decidedly uncomfortable. The rings that widened his nostrils slipped out easily enough, but taking out the pads in his cheeks and behind his lips was something else again. The adhesive was indeed adhesive and the inside of his mouth was sore before he had worried the pads out. But food would take care of that. Discomfort was forgotten as he ordered up a small dinner of guacamole salad, turkey mole, % small portion of chicken enchiladas and beef tacos, along with a half bottle of a red Santo Tomas wine, followed by a pastry so sweet it hurt his teeth. This all went down quite easily and he was lighting a large La Prueba cigar, dark aromatic leaf of Veracruz, when there was a soft sort of subservient knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“I have come for the tray, senor?”

“Just a moment.”

He unlocked the door and Sones pushed in with finger to lips, frowning fiercely, making hushing motions with his other hand. Tony stood aside and gaped in silence while Billy Schultz followed, winking conspiratorially and carrying with great ease I immense suitcases. He was followed by a stranger, a large, hulking man wearing a lumpy brown suit and carrying yet another suitcase in one hand, a drawn automatic pistol in the other. I bag carriers placed their burdens down without a sound and sat on them; Sones rattled the dishes loudly as he loaded the tray and put it out in the hall.

“Thank you, senor” he said, closing and locking the door from the inside and waving Tony after him to the bathroom. He closed this door behind them as well, made a quick search of the and electrical fittings, then flushed the toilet.

“We got your message,” he whispered. “I have no idea you arranged it but it showed good thinking, you know, how it arrived. You’re shaping up a bit better.”

Tony nodded and waved his hand in a dismissing motion, taking silent credit for Goldstein’s work. It was about time someone gave him credit for something, even though undeserved.

“What’s this with all the people and bags?”

“We are moving our base. Too much surveillance now at Cocoyoc. We will stay at this hotel.”

“Why are we whispering in the toilet?”

“Electronic bugging, of course. I am surprised at you, Hawkin. Schultz is checking the other room now.”

The roar of the toilet gurgled and stopped and Sones flushed it again. Steam rose from the bowl and he stepped back, eyes wide.

“I wondered too,” Hawkin said. “The waiter told me they laid the water pipes wrong before they poured the concrete slab. It was easy enough to fix the faucets, just change the handles around, but the toilets would have been ...”

“All right now. If this place is bugged, as I am sure it is, I will go out and come in again and talk to you and you play along. I want to feed some false information to those people.”

When they emerged, the stranger was still sitting on his bag, gun in hand, but Billy was standing on the bed pointing to the light fixture on the ceiling. Tony could see nothing of interest, but Sones stood on tiptoe and peered at it and nodded under-standingly. He went to the door and knocked. Tony joined him there, feeling slightly foolish at the play acting, while Sones opened the door, rattled the knob, and closed it again quickly,

“Hello,” was all he could think of.

“Hello. I received your message.”

“That’s nice.” Would this sort of thing fool a five year old?

“The money is on the way from Washington and will be here in the morning, all used small bills, unmarked, just as they asked.”

“That’s good.”

“I have a room down the hall. Why did you pick this hotel for a rendezvous?”

“I didn’t. They made the reservation for me.”

“What! You did not tell me that in your message. The room must be bugged. We do not want them listening to us. Let me look, aha! there it is, there on the light. I will pull it down.”

He waved to Billy who reached up with a wire cutter and clipped an invisible strand then took something from behind the fixture and handed it down to Sones, who nodded approvingly.

“Swiss, the Steinhager 31, the same kind we use.” The metal button, no bigger than a dime, rested innocently on his palm. “Retail cost three hundred and eighty-seven dollars. We can turn this in, it will look good on the budget. Hawkin, this is Stocker, he is from Treasury.”

“Pleased tuh meet you,” Stocker said, making no effort to rise, to extend his hand or to put his gun away. He was big, solid, suspicious, noncommittal; his pale-blue eyes had no more expression or warmth than those of a lizard.

“Pleased to meet you too.” Tony lowered his half-raised hand. Sones pointed to the suitcase Stocker was using for a chair.

“Treasury always sends their own men on these kind of money transactions, people experienced in handling large sums and taking care of them. Stocker is a specialist. There is a million dollars in bills in that bag.”

“And A’hm keeping an eye on it.”

Stocker smiled, for the first time, wintry as it was, and took a grenade from his pocket and bounced it happily on his palm. So that was why his pockets bulged so! What could possibly be in all the others? Tony took a reflex step backward, not really wanting to know.

“Now here is the drill,” Sones said, once more in command. “Schultz and I are down the hall, in fourteen, we’ve signed in. No one—and I repeat, no one—knows that Stocker is here, nor will they find out about it. Lizveta Zlotnikova is in the room next to ours, fifteen. We are leaving our heavy equipment here and Stocker will stay here with the money.”

“Well, that’s fine by me,” Tony said. “But there is only the single bed.”

“Ah don’t sleep.”

“So that takes care of that. Put a do not disturb sign on the door when we go and leave it there. Even when you go out. If you want to get back into this room, and that goes for all of us, knock twice, wait, once more. When the door opens say, ‘Horsefly.’”