Mary swallowed. “Goldsmith is a poet with a substantial reputation. He came to this island several times in the past and visited with Yardley—with Colonel Yardley—on each occasion, apparently at the Colonel’s request. They exchanged many letters. A book of such letters was published in the United States.”
Legar acquiesced to these evidences. “Many claim to know the Colonel who in fact do not. But now that you mention it, I remember something about a poet visitor who aroused some controversy in your country. He lectured widely in support of Colonel Sir John Yardley, did he not?”
Mary nodded.
“This is the same man?”
“Yes.”
“Remarkable. If you wish I will inquire of the Colonel’s secretary whether in fact he knows of such a man. But I am afraid we have another matter to discuss, and that is your present status here.”
Legar looked down at his desk and pushed aside a couple of papers as if to read from something below them. His eyes did not track another paper, however. He simply seemed to be avoiding her face.
“I’d like to know—” Mary began.
“Your status is in question at the moment. You are here on papers from a government which has severed diplomatic ties with Hispaniola and indicted our Colonel Sir on serious charges, charges that are patently false. All travel visas to and from the United States have been revoked. Your visa is therefore no longer valid. You are here on our sufferance until this matter is settled.”
“Then I’d like to request permission to leave,” Mary said. “If Goldsmith is not here, as you say, I have no further interest in staying.”
“I have said all travel arrangements between our countries are inoperative,” Legar reminded, still not facing her. “You cannot leave until certain questions are settled. You have observed that small numbers of troops have been patrolling to protect foreign nationals who have not yet left. Hispaniolans are remarkably loyal to Colonel Sir and there is justified anger in the streets. For your safety we will remove you from the quartiers diplomatiques to another location. I understand this is already being arranged. To provide assistance in your new location, Jean-Claude Borno and Roselle Mercredi will continue in your service. They are preparing your personal items now. Aide Henri”—he pointed to Soulavier—“will escort you to your new quarters.”
“I’d prefer to remain in the diplomatic compound,” Mary said.
“That is not possible. Now that we have arranged these affairs perhaps we can share a kola, relax and talk? This afternoon perhaps Henri will drive you to Leoganes and show you the wonderful grotto. This evening there is a festival of celebration at our great fortress, La Ferriere, and we can fly you there also. Your comfort and entertainment are very important to us. Henri has expressed enthusiasm to continue as your escort. Do you object?”
Mary looked between them, thinking of the hairbrush, of getting away.
“You are a most attractive woman,” Legar said. “Of the kind of beauty we call marabou, though you are not negro. Surely a person who chooses to be black is to be honored by those born to the condition?”
She detected no sarcasm. “Thank you,” Mary said.
“That you are a police officer as are we—very remarkable! Henri informs me you have discussed police procedures in Los Angeles. I am envious. May I know, as well?”
Mary released the pressure on her clenched molars, smiled and leaned forward. “Certainly,” she said. Only now did Legar raise his eyes and look at her directly. “After I’ve spoken with the American embassy or with my superiors.”
Legar blinked slowly.
“It would be simple courtesy to let a fellow police officer discover what her present orders are when she is prevented from doing her duty,” she told him.
Legar shook his head and turned in his chair to stare pointedly at Soulavier. Soulavier did not react. “No communication,” Legar said softly.
“Please tell me why,” Mary pursued. The thought of going anywhere with Soulavier or any other member of this constabulary frightened her. If she was to be used as some sort of political pawn she wanted to understand her position clearly.
“I do not know why,” Legar said. “We have been ordered to treat you well, to watch over you and to make your stay pleasant. You need not be concerned.”
“I’m kept here against my will,” Mary said. “If I’m a political prisoner, let me know now. Simple courtesy…between law enforcement officers.”
Legar pushed his chair back and stood. He rolled the middle button of his shirt between two fingers, regarding button and fingers speculatively. “You may take her away,” he said. “This is not useful.”
Soulavier touched her shoulder. She flicked his hand away, glared at him and stood. Control the anger but show it. “I’d like to speak with John Yardley.”
“He does not even know you are here, Mademoiselle,” Soulavier said. Legar nodded.
“Please leave,” the Inspector General said.
“He knows I’m here,” Mary said. “My superiors had to get his permission for me to come here. If he doesn’t know he’s a fool or he’s been misled by his people.”
Legar thrust out his jaw. “Nobody misleads Colonel Sir.”
“And he is certainly no fool,” Soulavier added hastily. “Please, Mademoiselle.” Soulavier tried to grip her elbow. She flicked the hand away again and gave him a look she hoped was intensely forbidding without being hysterical.
“If this is Hispaniolan hospitality it’s very overrated,” she said. A mighty blow against the tyranny. They will be so hurt.
“Take her out of here now,” Legar said. Soulavier was not gentle this time. He grabbed her firmly by both arms, lifted her with surprising strength and hauled her like cargo on a forklift out of the offices into the outside hallway. Mary did not struggle, simply closed her eyes and withstood the indignity. She had gone over the line far enough already; Soulavier was not being brutal merely expedient.
He deposited her swiftly on the tile floor and removed a handkerchief to wipe his brow. Then he went back to retrieve his stovepipe hat which he had dropped. But her insides turned to ice and she wondered whether in fact they would find it useful to kill her.
“My pardon,” Soulavier said as he emerged from the double doors. He stood on Damballa’s head and brushed off his hat. “You did not behave well. The Inspector General has anger…he becomes angry at times. He is a very important man. I dislike being around him when he is angry.”
Mary walked quickly down the hallway, through the entrance and to the limousine, where she stood for a moment getting her bearings. “Take me to wherever I’m supposed to stay now,” she said.
“There are beautiful places to visit on this island,” Soulavier said.
“Fap the beautiful places. Take me to wherever I’m supposed to be detained and leave me there.”
An hour alone. That was what she needed. She would try several things, test the bars on this cage, find out how competent her captors really were.
In the limousine Soulavier sat across from her, brooding. Mary watched the gray and tan institutional architecture of the rebuilt downtown move by in monotonous procession: banks, department stores, a museum and gallery of native Haitian art. Streets empty of tourists. No street merchants. They passed another patrol of military vehicles then a long line of parked tanks. Soulavier leaned forward and craned his neck to inspect the tanks.
“You should be more patient,” he said. “You should know these are not good times. Be aware.” His tone had changed to sullen irritation. “You do not make me look good in front of the Inspector General.”