“All right,” he said quietly. “What’s the plan?”
Sebastian took a deep breath. So far everything had gone pretty much as he had anticipated, and he wanted to be sure and explain things quite clearly, so that they would continue to go as he anticipated.
“Listen and listen carefully,” he said slowly. “To begin with, next week the Organization of American States — the O.A.S. — has meetings scheduled in Rio. Delegates from all the countries of the Americas will be here; ambassadors, foreign ministers, secretaries of state—” He spread his hands impressively to indicate the importance of the delegates, and then dropped them flatly to his knees. His eyes were fixed on Nacio’s face with a slight glitter, but his voice remained steady. “One of these people will be your target...”
If he had expected any reaction he was bound to be disappointed; no muscle moved on Nacio’s face. Obviously the affair was more than a simple husband-wife disagreement, or a falling out of partners. At those prices it had to be something of this size.
“Go on.”
“All right.” Sebastian bent even closer; Iracema’s hand moved almost tenderly along his arm. “The first day of the meetings, before they start their actual work, there are going to be ceremonies. The meetings are planned for the Hotel Gloria, where most of the delegates will be staying, but before they begin there is going to be a motorcade to the War Memorial, where they plan to place a wreath, and from there they’ll be going on to the Municipal, where some other ceremony is being planned. Now—”
Nacio frowned. “And how do you know all this?”
“By reading the newspapers,” Sebastian said with a faint smile. The smile disappeared instantly. “Let me finish. The man who will be your target will be in prominence both in the motorcade and at the War Memorial. The best time to do the job will be during the wreath-laying ceremony, or just before. They’ll be in open cars—”
“Unless it rains,” Nacio pointed out. “Like it did today.”
“If it rains they may not be in open cars, but they’ll still get out for the wreath-laying ceremony. And that’s when you’ll take him.”
Nacio thought a moment. “When does all this take place?”
“On Tuesday, a week from tomorrow.”
Nacio sat up in growing anger; a flush began to suffuse his sallow face. “So what was the big rush in my getting here by tomorrow? I could have stayed with the Santa Eugenia until she docked in Montevideo and still have been here in plenty of time!”
Sebastian shook his head. “Not according to the plan, and that’s what we’re all going to live by.” He leaned closer. “Listen closely; there is no doubt the police will be checking out the buildings along the route of this motorcade; a routine check, but it can still be thorough. They’ll check out both apartments and office buildings, or at least as many of them as they can. And they’ll have people stationed on the roofs as well as in the motorcade itself, and in the crowds—”
Nacio watched the heavy face across from him. “Why all the precautions? Are they expecting something?”
“No. Or at least not that I know of. But ever since Dallas—” Sebastian shrugged. “At any rate, we have to be prepared for them doing it. So as you can see it won’t be as easy as some of the other jobs I’ve fixed you up with in the past. On the other hand, it wouldn’t pay this kind of money if it were simple. In any event, the job still shouldn’t be too hard, despite all their precautions. Because” — a faint smile spread across his face — “you’re going to be in the Serrador Hotel, on the eighth floor, facing the Beira Mar and the War Memorial, and you’re going to be using a very fine rifle with a very high-powered telescopic sight...”
The smaller man’s jaw tightened. “And you think they won’t check hotels?”
“Of course they’ll check hotels.” Sebastian’s smile became a bit disdainful. “But they’ll pay the most attention to people who register in the last day or two before the meetings — and you have a reservation for tomorrow, a full week early. Which, of course, is why it was necessary for you to be here early.” His smile broadened, proud of the attention to detail which had gone into his plan. “And the police will also check most carefully on single people, and mainly men; and you are registered there” — his voice dropped to permit his full genius to be appreciated — “as Dr. and Senhora Carabello of Três Rios.”
“Senhora?”
“Iracema.” Sebastian looked at him quietly. “As man and wife, but only for the purposes of the scheme. And let me repeat that and save you from any mistaken ideas you might get. For your information, Iracema and I—” He cleared his throat, breaking off the discussion as being irrelevant. “In any event you have a reservation for tomorrow, and I have proper luggage for you here. Proper clothes and everything else you’ll need. So everything is set as far as that part of the plan is concerned.”
“And that’s why Iracema is involved?”
“Partly. I’ll tell you about the rest later. Now—”
“And who’s paying for all this?”
“Someone who can afford it, believe me.” He waved off further interruption. “The most important thing, of course, is this: how accurate can you be at that distance?”
Nacio tugged the blanket about his lean body and closed his eyes, picturing in his mind the Serrador Hotel, the War Memorial, and the distances involved. His eyes opened slowly; he nodded. “If it’s a good rifle and a good telescopic sight, there should be no problem. Depending, of course, on how open the target happens to be.”
“He’ll be open,” Sebastian said confidently. “Either in the car, or standing at the Memorial. Actually, it doesn’t make too much difference whether you get him in the car or standing at the ceremony. So long as you get him. Any questions?”
Nacio’s hands stroked his thighs beneath the blanket as he considered the facts given him. Now that the intimate details of the assassination were being examined, he seemed to be oddly relaxed and less tense, more in his element. “Yes, quite a few. For example, what do I do for the week between now and next Tuesday? Sit in the hotel room?”
Sebastian shook his head. “You do not. You use the hotel room — you and Iracema, together or alone — as any other visiting couple would do. You show signs of normal occupancy. You leave toothpaste stains in the washbowl and used razor blades lying around.” His voice listed these items with almost mechanical precision; it was obvious he had considered each facet of the problem carefully. “You leave pajamas on the bed, and you drop socks on the floor for the maid to pick up. Iracema leaves tissues around with lipstick stains — things like that.” He leaned forward. “And you leave the room each morning at eight o’clock, before the floor maids start on the rooms, and you come back in the evening after dinner, after the floor staff has left for the day. In other words, you do nothing to cause the slightest attention to be drawn to you, but still nothing to make it appear you are avoiding attention. Is that clear?”
Nacio nodded, absorbing the details of the scheme. Sebastian continued his litany.
“And you leave no fingerprints—”
Nacio frowned. “How do you live in a hotel for a week and leave no fingerprints?”
“By wearing gloves. Surgical gloves. I have two pairs for you here. You put them on as soon as you enter the room each night, and you take them off as you leave in the morning. And you remember to wipe the knob of the door each time you use it.” He smiled, pleased with himself. “I told you this job was thoroughly planned.”
“So it’s planned. And all right, I wear the gloves. I don’t know how, but I do. What do I do with my time in the hotel room every night?”