At twelve sharp, a short thin man entered the café; he looked like a nobody and was wearing a thick brown wool coat, badly tailored. He sat at the bar and ordered a glass of milk. García stood up and went over to him:
“What’s up?”
The man turned slowly, both hands resting on the bar. He had large blue eyes, surprisingly full of innocence.
“García!”
“What’re you up to, Laski, my friend?”
“Having a glass of milk. At this time of day, my stomach starts acting up and milk settles it down.”
“You don’t say!”
“I went to the doctor and he gave me a prescription. Take a look, García.”
He took a piece of paper out of his coat pocket that really did look like a doctor’s prescription, and at the bottom, written in a different hand: “Someone’s been tailing you since you left Sanborns.” García didn’t even twitch.
“I think that medicine will be good for you, if you take it with a lot of milk. Me, I always drink coffee. .”
“Last night at Café Canton you were drinking beer and that can be bad for you, García, my friend, very bad.”
“What, the beer or Café Canton?”
“Both, as far as I could see.”
“I, on the other hand, didn’t see you drinking your milk.”
The Russian smiled beatifically. Then he said:
“It does me good to go for a walk after I drink my milk. How about we take a turn down the Alameda?”
“Let’s.”
Along the way they barely spoke. This fucking Russian didn’t hug me like the gringo. I don’t know what kind of a gun he’s packing or what other arsenal he’s carrying around. He’s very clever, knows everything I’m up to. If I don’t watch out, they’ll start investigating the inside of my belly button. Fucking international conspiracy! But in this business, like in everything, you’ve got to stay alert — if you snooze you lose. Maybe that’s why we sleep so little. Or because of our faithful departed. That’s what the lay-sisters and the priests say, that our faithful departed don’t let us sleep. Or, like the corrido says: On my way through the graveyard / a dead man spoke to me; / hand me your skull, he cried / then alone I will not be. Fucking corrido! For all I know those Outer Mongolians worry about the same things. I wonder what Chinese skulls look like? Very smiling. And that Russian knowing about me and Marta. And now he’s acting all high and mighty with me.
They sat down on a bench on the Alameda. The Russian chose one without a back where nobody could get near them without first being seen. He crossed his hands over his lap and contemplated the trees. García said:
“Seems you know everything, don’t you?”
“Don’t I?”
“How’d it go for you guys during the Spanish Civil War? Took quite a beating, didn’t you?”
The Russian burst out laughing. His eyes shone with delight. He slapped García on the back several times:
“You’ll make me die laughing, García. You are a man after my own heart. After everything that happened last night, you’ve still got jokes to tell. Wonderful, wonderful.”
The Russian was laughing like a schoolboy. Here’s another one who’s got the giggles. Seems like in the international crowd, smiles are all the rage. We’ll have to see if they’d keep laughing with a bullet in their bellies. Or when the shit hits the fan. For all I know, they’ll chicken out and piss their pants. For all I know this Russian would just keep laughing. Fucking Russian. The professor says that man doesn’t laugh at death, that’s what animals do. As if you can laugh at life.
The Russian said:
“Now, Mr. García, now that we’ve dispensed with the pleasantries, what do you say we talk about our case? You’ve met Graves. I can assure you, that American is one of the FBI’s best agents. Don’t let his stupid laugh and bourgeois appearance fool you. He’s a very good agent and he never hesitates to kill when necessary. That’s why I think you and I should form a united front, of sorts, and not tell him everything we find out. If you weren’t going to tell him about last night, I won’t, either.”
“How much did you see?”
“Almost all of it. Once they told me I would have the honor of working with you, I took a room in the hotel across the street from your apartment. Routine stuff, Mr. García.”
“Same routine stuff with Graves?”
“Naturally. And he with me, though I think last night he hadn’t yet started his surveillance on you.”
“How much did you see last night?”
“The one driving the Pontiac got quite a blow to the head.”
“Maybe he was one of yours?”
The Russian looked surprised, and his eyes showed that he was offended.
“Oh, no. Those men were amateurs. We work only with professionals. The stupidest of my men would never have stuck his head out the window of a car so carelessly. I can assure you, they weren’t Graves’s men, either. He also only uses professionals.”
“I see.”
There was a certain sadness in Laski’s voice, as well as a touch of scorn.
“As I said, they were amateurs.”
“You know who they were?”
“I haven’t wasted any time finding out. Early this morning I spoke to the police, told them there was a car parked on the street with two dead bodies. Probably in the afternoon papers I’ll find out who they were.”
“They were Mexicans.”
Laski was quiet, thinking. The information surprised him. Finally I say something he doesn’t already know. Aren’t I hot shit! Did he see everything that went on with Marta? The curtain was open. Fucking Russian!
“This is important,” said Laski, finally. “Very important. Are you sure that those two men, the one in the car and the one you brought down from your apartment wrapped in a sheet, are you sure they were involved?”
“Who’s sure of anything?”
“That’s why I’m asking. Given the international importance of this case, it seems very strange that two amateurs would be involved, on either side. See what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why it is essential to find out if their appearance last night was because of the case we are working on or something else, perhaps something personal against you, Mr. García.”
“I’d never seen either of them before, and their names mean nothing to me, Mr. Laski. And they showed up the same night I begin on this investigation. Could be a coincidence, but I don’t like coincidences.”
“Last night was also the first time, I believe, you took the young lady to your house.”
“What do you know about that?”
“This could be another coincidence. Miss Fong, lovely, indeed, shows up at your house with you. And two men who want to kill you also show up. Don’t you think Miss Fong might be involved?”