Using his contacts in the local real estate industry, Bat had found a place he thought suitable. He was driving Jonas out to have a look at it.
"I didn't make a choice of names," said Bat. "Here in Mexico I am thought of as Cord. In the States, where they don't understand the Spanish tradition of using both parents' names, I am thought of as Batista because it's the last name in the string."
Jonas sat as far as he could to the right in the somewhat cramped little car, so he could study this son of his. He found the boy bland. No, that was not right. He found him enigmatic. His life seemed to have left no mark whatever on him, and he stared at the road and the traffic ahead of them with the innocence of a young man who'd had no experiences in this world at all. Jonas looked for the mark of a soldier who had been grievously wounded, and he didn't see it. He looked for the curiosity, or maybe the resentment, an illegitimate son might feel toward the father who had abandoned his mother — and he didn't see that, either.
"You understand, I didn't know your mother was pregnant."
Bat glanced at him. "Would it have made any difference?" he asked.
"Yes — Yes, goddammit, it would have. It sure as hell would have made a difference."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Bat dryly. Neither the hard raised voice or the "goddammit" had penetrated his calm. He whipped the little car in and out in the heavy traffic.
Jonas changed the subject. "You know why I'm in Mexico, of course."
"Yes. I read the newspapers."
"I'm not a fugitive from justice," said Jonas.
"Maybe from injustice," said Bat.
"It's political."
"That's how I read it," said Bat.
Jonas nodded. "You understand about it, then?"
"I'm sure I don't have all the information. From what I know —"
"I'm probably pretty much what my reputation says I am," Jonas interrupted. "But I'm not a goddamn crook. I really am not."
"You don't have to convince me," said Bat dryly.
For a minute or so Jonas stared at the road. Then he said, "I treated your mother ill. I'm glad to see she's happy. She would not have been with me. You know? You know enough about me to understand that. Don't you?"
"Don't try to justify yourself," said Bat without taking his eyes off the traffic. "You don't need to. And if you did need to, you couldn't. She made up her mind about you a long time ago. Even now, you contacted her only because you think she might have some influence you can use, with her uncle."
"You've got your mind pretty well made up," said Jonas. "I couldn't justify myself with you, either. The fact I didn't know you existed makes no difference."
Bat glanced at his father. "Exactly," he said.
Jonas leaned against the right-hand door of the car and scowled at his son. The boy was more of a Cord than he had suspected.
"Changing the subject, I do have to ... hide."
"Why?" asked Bat. "Officially, the Mexican government doesn't know you're here. Unofficially, it won't acknowledge it. That can be arranged for very little money. Besides, I sense the American government has become bored with the chase. There have been editorials saying the government surely has something better to do than hound you. What did those editorials cost you, incidentally?"
"Jonas ... Bat. You know too fuckin' much."
Bat smiled at last. "A man can get along in this world knowing nothing. Or he can get along — maybe no better — trying to know everything."
Jonas stared at his son and nodded. "Like I said, you know too much. I didn't buy any editorials. I just fed those papers information."
"It would have been more direct to buy them," said Bat.
"So you're cynical, too."
"Cynical is another word for realistic."
Jonas grinned. "You inherited something from me — and from your grandfather. You — you wouldn't mind using the name Cord?"
"Here in Mexico, I am Cord. It is only in the States that they have that confused."
"And everyone knows you're my son?"
"Everyone."
Jonas closed his eyes for a moment. "Everyone but me. I didn't know I had a son. Are ... are you married?"
"No."
"Have a girl? A prospect?"
"Maybe. Not really, I guess. I thought I did, but she's a career woman."
"Meaning what?"
"I asked her to marry me, and she accepted. Then she was appointed an aide to a United States senator and went to Washington. Three years ago. I've seen her a couple of times since."
"I'm glad to hear there's some way in which you're a damned fool."
"Meaning what?"
"Either you were a fool to ask her to marry you in the first place, or you were a fool to resent her wanting a career of her own. Which was it?"
"It's personal," said Bat glumly.
"Fathers and sons tend to discuss personal things with each other," said Jonas.
"I wouldn't know about that."
"Neither would I," said Jonas. "My father never talked about anything personal with me, except to raise hell with me about something or other. It was only after he died that somebody told me he once said he loved me."
Bat took his eyes off the road and looked at Jonas. He frowned and shook his head.
"If I'd known I had a son —"
"You didn't ask."
"I didn't guess."
"It may be just as well," said Bat. "I'm not sure I could have coped with you."
"But you can now, hmm?" Jonas asked.
Bat smiled. "Well ... We'll see."
"Are you going to handle this business with the Mexican government for me? I mean, letting me stay in the country and so on."
"I'm a very new lawyer. My firm can handle it."
"All right. You've brought in a client. I'll have a variety of legal problems for your firm. But understand something. Anything that's personal and confidential, I want you to handle it. You have a stake in it, you know."
"What's that mean?"
"You're my heir, you damned fool. What did you think?"
"Heir?" Bat asked, tossing up his chin. "I learned in law school that you can't refuse a legacy, so that you have to pay inheritance taxes even if you don't want the inheritance. You have to accept the inheritance and pay the taxes out of it, before you can get rid of it. But don't do me any favors until I decide if I want them."
2
Mexico City was a city of startling contrasts. Downtown, high-rise office buildings rose above broad avenues. Out a little, people lived in what had to be the world's most squalid slums. The villa Bat had found was located in as pleasant a suburban neighborhood as Jonas had ever seen.
The house had a red tile roof above ocher stucco walls. In the Mediterranean style, it faced the street and its neighbors with windowless walls. All the windows opened on its central courtyard, affording views of a green pool inhabited by large goldfish that swam placidly among lily pads. The goldfish were so tame you could reach down in the water and pick one up. Chameleons scampered among the shrubs, wary of the sharp-eyed birds that watched them from branches and occasionally swooped down and caught one. The rooms were all large, with dark wood floors and white plaster walls. The furniture was heavy, most of it upholstered with leather of various colors, from black to coffee-with-cream tan. The villa suited Jonas very well.
A man and wife worked as household staff: the woman as cook, maid, and laundress, her husband as gardener and houseman. They lived in a suite of rooms at the rear of the house.
Bill Shaw stayed with him and occupied a room on the south side. He had brought Jonas's telephone scrambler, and they attached it to the house line, Jonas called for Angie, and she came down.