“What do I know.”
“Or the two dead men might have been after her, there to wrench her out of your arms, Mr. García. Maybe a jealous lover or boyfriend. Could that be?”
“Yeah, could be. But anyway, you’re the ones who started this whole mess with your Outer Mongolian gossip.”
“Would you have preferred we say nothing to your government? That would not have been a very friendly gesture on our part, especially when the life of your own president could be in danger.”
His large blue eyes now showed that he was deeply offended, and somewhat sad. His nostrils quivered.
“We are grateful for your warning, Mr. Laski; and I imagine that the Americans are, too. Maybe this will put an end to the Cold War.”
“The Cold War is a bourgeois invention.”
“What I would like to point out, Laski, before you launch into any speeches, is that both you and Graves, instead of looking for the men who’ve come from Hong Kong, if they exist, are spending your time investigating and watching each other and me.”
The Russian burst out laughing.
“Seems like a game, doesn’t it? It’s always like this when there’s international intrigue.”
“A game that could end, the day after tomorrow, with two dead presidents.”
“We did our duty by issuing a warning as soon as we found out that something was going on, Mr. García.”
“Precisely. And we’ve done our duty by thanking you. And now comes the million-dollar question: What interest do you, the Russians, have in continuing with the investigation?”
“A very good question, Mr. García. Very good.”
“I’d like an answer that is just as good.”
“But that would diminish the stature of such a question. A question like that deserves to remain forever unanswered. That’s another thing about international intrigue: most questions remain unanswered.”
“I’d like an answer anyway.”
“Let’s just say, we continue investigating out of curiosity, Mr. García. We Russians are sentimental, feminine in many respects, and therefore, curious.”
The Russian’s smile was beatific: it oozed innocence. This guy looks at me like I’m a real jackass. But even that doesn’t make me want to smack him. It would be like smacking a child. For all I know he’ll start crying. Fucking Russian! But sharp as a tack. Full of a whole lot of international intrigue. Him and the gringo combined, they’ll investigate me down to my underwear. In the meantime, those Outer Mongolians, if they even exist, are preparing their sniper rifles with telescopic sights or their bomb or whatever they’re going to use.
“You look deep in thought, García. Would you like to hear something else?”
“I want to know something, period.”
“There’s another rumor. .”
“From Outer Mongolia? I guess they’re carrying the rumors by camel, like the Three Kings.”
“Very funny, García, my friend. I think we are going to understand each other quite well, quite well.”
“So, the new rumor?”
“Somebody took out of Hong Kong Shanghai Bank, in Hong Kong, a half million dollars, all in fifty-dollar bills. American bills, that is. Not worth as much as the ruble, but still a large sum.”
“Ten thousand bills. That’s a hefty wad.”
“Exactly. And it appears that these bills were on their way to Mexico.”
“Interesting.”
“But nobody has seen them on any border.”
“There are many things that are never seen on any border, Mr. Laski.”
“Very true, very true.”
“You think that money is from Mr. Mao?”
“The People’s Republic of China.”
“Maybe it came directly from Moscow?”
“Maybe. China has cost us a lot of money. A lot.”
“And now they’re pissed at you.”
“So it is.”
“Ungrateful wretches!”
The Russian was thinking. In a nearby gazebo, the Chinese from Dolores Street had begun to assemble for their daily gathering. Santiago and Pedro Yuan are probably there. And here I am, playing at international intrigue. I smell a rat, but chances are these lofty political issues have already been checked out by the men at the top. Mr. Rosendo del Valle and his bigwigs. None of my business. My business is to make stiffs. Those bigwigs must know why the Russians are going around pointing fingers at the Chinese. But what I’d really like to find out is where the money is. That’s a lot of dough. Find the guys who have it, take them out, keep the dough, as much as possible, and as they say on TV: mission accomplished. Fucking mission!
“So, Laski, my friend, you people think that dough is going to land here, in the hands of some Chinaman, who’s going to use it to plan and carry out the attack.”
“That’s very possible.”
“Have you got any solid evidence? And don’t give me Outer Mongolia again, because by now I’m not even sure it exists. .”
“I’ve been there. As for your question, there might be no solid evidence, but it is logical. In these cases of international intrigue, there’s never solid evidence or complete truths, García, my friend.”
“What makes you think this money will land in the hands of a Chinaman and not somebody else?”
“The Chinese wouldn’t trust that much money to anybody who wasn’t Chinese.”
“The Peking Communists, as they are called, have many followers all over the world. Some say they have more than you.”
“University kids playing at being conspirators.”
“I’m asking because if it turns out, as I think it will, that the two from last night were mixed up in this business, we’ve got two Mexicans who definitely weren’t doing whatever they were doing out of some kind of political commitment. Which means the money has already arrived.”
“And they’re wasting it on amateurs.”
Laski’s big eyes filled with rage.
“And now, Laski, I’m going to ask you a question, and I hope you won’t take offense. Might you be the one in charge of making sure this money doesn’t get wasted?”
“I can assure you that if this were the case, the two men who died last night would never have been hired. Anything else?”
“Yes. How are we going to work together?”
“You and I. .”
“And Graves. Don’t forget Graves, Laski.”
“No, I never forget him. Where do you propose we start? You are, we could say, our host. .”
“I think we should start by finding out several things. First: if your government was pulling a fast one when they issued that noble and disinterested warning. Second: if those mysterious assassins from Hong Kong have arrived in Mexico. Third: if those half a million bucks have arrived and if they’re going to be used to carry out the attack. Fourth: if the two men who died last night were involved in this.”
“There are other questions, Mr. García, there are others. I would say, a fifth one would be: if Miss Fong, who was with you last night, is involved.”
García’s eyes turned hard, impenetrable. Laski kept talking, counting on his fingers:
“Sixth: if Miss Fong is an agent for one of the groups involved, how much power does she have over you, Mr. García? Don’t you think it is important to thoroughly investigate that?”
“And seventh, Mr. Laski: if the illustrious government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics hasn’t pulled the wool over our eyes with their Chinese and Outer Mongolian rumors, so that while we’re trying to find the Chinese, the Russians can do what they say the Chinese want to do.”
Laski clapped his hands in delight and again broke out in childish laughter.
“We’re going to be friends, García, great friends. That’s absolutely clear to me now. Can I call you Filiberto? My name is Ivan Mikhailovich.”