Cade

Four

It took Cade until late evening to win Juana back to him. He spent more than an hour outside the locked bedroom door, trying to persuade her to let him in. When she finally did unlock the door, she refused at first to listen to his abject apologies.

“I am a liar. You don’t trust me. Therefore you can’t love me,” she said, her back turned to him.

“Please try to understand,” he pleaded. “You are the first woman I have ever loved. I can’t help it if I am jealous of you. You said yourself it is a proof of love. Now, didn’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean you can call me a liar.”

And so it went on, until finally, he began to wear down her resistance.

“You hurt me very much,” she said, close to tears. “I didn’t sleep all night. You were drunk. You shouted at me. You were horrid.”

“Yes, I was all that, and I am sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.” Tentatively he put his arm around her, and after hesitating, she relaxed against him.

“You made me so unhappy,” she said, clinging to him. “I have never been so unhappy.”

In a few more minutes, she began to smile and Cade, relieved and delighted, insisted that they should go out to dinner to celebrate. They went to the Negrui Restaurant where Cade ordered champagne, unmindful of the cost since he had a Diner’s Club card and he hadn’t to pay for the meal for some time to come.

On their return, they went to bed and made love. But Cade was quick to find she wasn’t so ardent, and he guessed she was still resenting his treatment of her.

He decided before he fell asleep that he would get her a present the following day. An Omega self-winding watch was certain to put things right, he told himself. Never mind the cost. He still had some stock left, and in another twelve weeks, the royalty money would be in.

So when Juana, still a little cool, went off to the market, Cade called up Adolfo Creel and instructed him to find him a watch, explaining just what he wanted. Creel said he would have a selection ready for him by the afternoon. Then, slightly uneasy, Cade called Sam Wand. He said that he had changed his mind about going to Yucatan and was returning the photographs supplied by the Museum.

“It’s not worth the journey, Sam. What else have you got?”

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Wand said, obviously annoyed. “They’ll be pretty sore. I told them it was all fixed.”

“Then tell them it is unfixed,” Cade said impatiently. “Have you dug up anything else?”

“There’s nothing your way for the moment, but I was talking to Harry Jackson and he is raving about those bull fight shots of yours. He’s trying to set up a deal with Life to do an article on the Dixie Bands in New Orleans. If he pulls it off, he’ll want you to take care of the photographs. This could be a nice slice of money, Val. I’ll know tomorrow for certain and I’ll call you.”

“Fine. Oh, another thing. Sell some more stock for me, will you? I’ll need around five thousand.”

“For God’s sake! Didn’t I...”

“Sam! This is my money, remember? Keep your remarks to yourself!”

“I know it’s your money, but do you imagine you’ll have all that amount? Right now, you are worth only twenty-one thousand dollars: that’s all! If I sell stock at the present market price, you won’t be worth fifteen thousand.”

“I have those royalties coming to me, so what?”

“Now look, Val...”

“I want five thousand dollars, so get it,” Cade said and hung up.

The watch, when it arrived, was perfect and set with diamonds. Cade couldn’t resist it. Creel assured him it was a bargain. Cade was sure this would please Juana as nothing else could, and he was right. He was immediately out of the dog house and their love-making that night was as abandoned and explosive as it had ever been.

The following morning Sam Wand telephoned to say that the New Orleans deal was on and he had sold stock at a forty per cent loss to give Cade the five thousand dollars he had asked for.

Cade felt a moment of uneasiness, but he had told Wand to do it, so this wasn’t the time to squeal.

“Jackson will be at the Fontainbleau Motor Hotel, New Orleans on Friday,” Wand went on. “He’s expecting you. This will be a syndicate job. Could be worth nine thousand dollars to you in the long run. Okay?”

Cade grinned happily.

“More than okay. I’ll be there,” and he hung up.

He rushed to tell Juana they were leaving for New Orleans on Friday. She was as excited as he. He then called Creel, asking him to fix the plane reservations and to call the hotel for a double room.

After dinner, Cade said it would be nice to take a drive. How would Juana like to visit the Pyramid of the Moon again? Always delighted for an excuse to drive the Thunderbird, Juana agreed.

Together, they left the house and walked around to the garage. They walked arm in arm, and they were completely off their guards. Three shadowy figures rose out of the bushes near the garage and converged on them.

Juana was the first to realise the threatening danger.

“Look out!” she cried, jerking her arm free. She swung her heavy handbag at the face of one of the running men, and then she began to scream.

Two small Mexicans were on Cade before he could get his balance. They all crashed down in a struggling heap on the concrete path. Cade kicked out, feeling his shoe sink into something soft and some of the pressure went away. He received a stunning blow in the face, cursed, hit out blindly and connected with a jaw bone.

Juana’s piercing screams were suddenly cut short. Cade was half up as he saw another shadowy figure come charging at him. He straightened and was knocked sprawling. Gasping, he began to scramble to his feet when he saw two men standing over him, their arms raised. He threw up his arms, but he was too late. Something that felt like a bar of iron crashed down on his head and the night exploded into a sheet of blinding flame, and then darkness.

Later, he vaguely became aware of great heat and the smell of burning. He made a feeble effort to open his eyes, and again darkness closed over him. Later still, he became aware of voices and movement, but he was beyond caring. His head felt as if it had been split in two. He heard himself groaning. There was a sudden prick in his arm, and he drifted away once more into blessed darkness.

The young Mexican surgeon whose name was Jose Pinto came into the hospital waiting-room where Juana, Creel and Sam Wand stood in an uneasy group by the window.

Wand, a tall, fat dynamo of a man in his middle forties, had flown down as soon as the news of the attack had reached him. Juana whose beauty had made no impression on him, could tell him little of the attack. She said five men had been involved. Before she could go to Cade’s help, a blanket had been thrown over her head and she had been held while the brutal beating had been in progress.

The neighbours, alarmed by her first screams, had telephoned the police who had arrived with their usual indifference of all Mexicans to an emergency some time after the attackers had gone. They found the garage in flames, the Thunderbird a charred wreck and Cade hovering between life and death. He had been rushed to hospital. Three days later it had been decided to operate.

“He’s come through very well,” Pinto said as the three turned expectantly. “He has a very thick skull. There is a fracture, of course, but it will heal. I am optimistic. In a month or so, he will be as well as he has ever been.”

“Can I see him?” Juana asked.

“Tomorrow, but not before.”

Later, at a café, sitting opposite each other, Juana asked Wand for money.

“The operation has to be paid for,” she explained. “There are also many other expenses. I need a new car.”

“He hasn’t much money now,” Wand said, regarding her coldly. “He has been spending his capital recently like a drunken sailor.” He tapped a fat finger on her diamond wrist watch. “If you want money, sell that. The insurance will take care of the car. What he has left, he will need when he comes out of hospital.”

Her face expressionless, her eyes suddenly hard, Juana stood up.

“He has always told me you are a good friend of his,” she said. “I don’t think you are. He wouldn’t want me to sell my watch. It is the last thing he would want.”

Wand smiled at her, not bothering to get to his feet. To him she was a beautiful whore; nothing more, nothing less.

“It is because I happen to be a good friend of his that I am telling you to sell the watch and all the other expensive toys he has given you. I am holding onto whatever money he has left and you, dear lady, are certainly not getting it!”

She shrugged her beautiful shoulders, turned and with swinging hips, she walked out into the sunshine.

The following morning Wand was Cade’s first visitor.

Dr. Pinto had already told Cade that Juana was unhurt and that in a month or so he would be up and about again, but as Wand came into the small, white room, he could see Cade was troubled.

“Good of you to come, Sam,” Cade said as the big, fat man lowered his bulk onto the chair by the bed.

“Have you seen Juana?”

“I saw her yesterday. She’s all right.”

“Did she say when she was coming to see me?” Cade’s sunken eyes were anxious.

“No, but she’ll be along today. How do you feel?”

Cade grimaced.

“This is a curse, Sam. It means I have lost the New Orleans job, doesn’t it?”

“Jackson couldn’t wait. He got Lucas.”

“I don’t know how Juana is off for money, Sam. If she wants some, let her have it.”

“She’ll manage. I had better hold on to your last Stocks. You’ll need money when you come out.”

“I guess that’s right but... oh, well, I’ll talk to her.”

“What’s all this about anyway?” Wand asked. “Any idea who these thugs were?”

“They didn’t like my bull fighting pictures. Adolfo warned me, but I didn’t pay any attention. I’m not good at taking advice. The car’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“She’ll have to have a new one.”

“The insurance will take care of that. Don’t worry about her. She can more than look after herself. Look, Val, I have to get back to New York. I just wanted you to know that I’ll have a mass of work lined up for you as soon as you’re fit. You take it easy, and leave it all to me.”

When he had gone, Cade closed his eyes. His head ached and he felt depressed. He couldn’t understand why Juana hadn’t been the first to visit him.

She came in the late afternoon. Cade who had been dozing, opened his eyes to find her by his bed. Although his head was aching, he was able to smile. He caught hold of her hand and she bent and kissed him.

“It is lovely to see you. How are you? Are you in pain?” She sat down.

“I’m all right, but how about you? Miss me?”

“Of course,” she said, paused, then went on, “There is so much to do. The insurance people are being difficult about the car. They say the coverage was for accidental fire and this was deliberate. I’ve had to consult a lawyer. He doesn’t think they will pay. Then there’s the garage. The owner of our house wasn’t insured. He is claiming from us.”

Cade wished his head didn’t ache so badly. He forced a grin.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Let them all wait I’ll fix it when I am up.”

“But in the meantime I haven’t a car. Taxis are almost impossible to get. Could I buy a car?”

“Sure... of course. I don’t know how much I have in the bank, but there should be enough. My cheque book is in that drawer. I’ll sign a blank cheque, but watch it baby, don’t put me in the red.”

Her face lit up as she gave him a flashing, heart-warming smile. She got the cheque book, found a pen and stood over him while he signed.

“Ask Creel to find you something cheap, honey. Until I’m earning again we’ll have to watch our money.”

“I have a friend in the car business. I won’t bother Creel. My friend will find me something quickly.” She looked at her watch. “Dr. Pinto said I was only to stay a few minutes.” She put the cheque in her bag. “Don’t worry if I don’t come tomorrow, cariño. I’ll be looking at cars. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Wait a minute, Juana.” Cade’s head was aching so badly he was white and sweating. “Did you speak to Renado about Franoco? It was Franoco who staged this attack, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know. It could have been anyone. There is much bad feeling about those photos.”

“But did you speak to Renado?”

She hesitated, not looking at him.

“No... I forgot, but it could have been anyone.” She bent and kissed him. “Adios. Get well quickly. I miss you,” and she was gone.

Her visit upset Cade. Dr. Pinto wasn’t pleased with him when he saw him later.

“No visitors for a few days,” he said. “No, don’t argue. It’s for your own good. I’m going to give you a sedative and you’re going to have a nice sleep.”

Cade didn’t protest.

“Will you telephone my wife? I don’t want her to come all this way if she can’t see me.”

“I’ll telephone,” Pinto said.

Before Cade took the sedative, he thought of what Juana had told him. He was going to have to face a financial mess when he left the hospital. He felt a qualm of uneasiness about giving her a blank cheque. He hoped she wouldn’t clean out the account, but of course she had to have money. Then he remembered he had still to pay for the watch; there was this garage business. Would he have to compensate the owner? He felt suddenly as if his safe, easy comfortable world was falling to pieces. He welcomed sleep when eventually it came.

A week slid by. Cade was kept under sedation. His head ceased to ache, he was relaxed and he could feel his strength returning. What pleased him and helped him more than anything was the daily bunch of flowers that were delivered with a card always bearing the same message: My love, Juana, written in a small, untidy hand and the first time Cade had seen Juana’s handwriting.

On the eighth day, Cade asked Pinto if he could see Juana.

The doctor shook his head.

“Not yet. People bring trouble. You’re in no state for trouble. I’m not saying your wife would upset you, but she must have her own personal problems. That is only natural. So if you want to get well quickly, be patient. In another week, the fracture will be healed. You’ll be surprised how quickly you’ll be up and about once it is healed. But get a setback now, and you could be here for another month or more. So no visitors for another week.”

“Tell her, please.”

Dr. Pinto looked at him and then away.

“I’ll tell her,” he said.

At the end of the second week, Cade was sitting in an armchair by the open window. He was feeling pretty good, a little weak still, but he hadn’t had a headache for three days and he was determined to see Juana without further delay. He told Dr. Pinto so when he came in for his daily visit.

“Yes,” Pinto said, his face expressionless. “I think you are out of danger now. All right, I’ll telephone. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“This afternoon,” Cade said firmly. “I’ve waited long enough. I can’t imagine why there is no telephone in this room. What kind of hospital are you running?”

Pinto shrugged.

“This is where we treat head injuries, Senor Cade. People with bad head injuries don’t need a telephone.”

“How much longer am I staying here?”

“Another week. I’ll need to see you from to time just to be sure you’re going along all right.”

“All this cost money,” Cade said, frowning. “I’m feeling fine now. Frankly, doctor, I have to get back to work.”

“You will in another week.”

Cade picked up the pile of cards and flicked through them: each bearing Juana’s simple message. There were fifteen of them. A new one with a bunch of carnations had arrived that morning.

“My wife’s got to stop this,” he said with a sudden grin. “We can’t afford it.”

Dr. Pinto looked down at his finger nails, hesitated, then said, “I have to get along. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and he left the room.

Cade stared after him, suddenly a little uneasy. What was the matter with the man this morning? he wondered.

Visiting hours at the hospital began at 15.00 hours. Cade sat by the open window, waiting impatiently, his eyes continually going to his watch. During that waiting period, he thought of Juana. He thought of their first meeting on the hot sands of Acapulco, their first love-making, his proposal at the foot of the Pyramid of the Moon, the wedding and the house. He drew in a deep breath. With her he had found the one great thing that had been missing in his life: love and the security of a background. In a few minutes, she would walk in, and they would be together. With her, he wasn’t scared of the future nor of his debts. He could always earn money. They would have to go slow at first, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was they would be together again.

A tap sounded on the door.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” Cade called, his face flushing with excitement.

The door opened and Adolfo Creel came in. He looked a little more seedy. There were fresh food stains on his light suit. His fat face had a fine film of sweat on it. As he moved into the room, he didn’t look at Cade. He closed the door and stood hesitating, a soiled handkerchief screwed up in his sweating hand.

“Why, hello, Adolfo, I wasn’t expecting you,” Cade said, staring at him. “What are you doing here?”

Creel looked at him. His black eyes were sad and moist. He didn’t say anything.

“I am expecting Juana, Adolfo,” Cade said a little impatiently. “Could you come back tomorrow?”

“She won’t be coming, Senor Cade,” Creel said.

Cade stared at him. A chill began to grow around his heart.

“Is she ill?”

Creel shook his head.

“Well, what is it?” Cade demanded. “Don’t stand there like a goddamn dummy! Why isn’t she coming?”

“She is not here.”

“Of course she is! I had her flowers this morning!”

Creel stared down at his dusty shoes. He didn’t say anything.

“If she’s not here... then where is she?”

“She’s in Spain, senor.”

“Have you gone mad?” Cade’s voice rose. “Spain? What is she doing in Spain?”

Creel licked his lips.

“The bull fighting season in Madrid has begun.”

Cade tried to keep calm. He felt a nerve jumping by his temple. His body was cold and damp with sweat.

“What has bull fighting to do with Juana? Will you please tell me what you are hinting at? Has Juana left me?”

Creel nodded dumbly.

Cade picked up the fifteen cards and shook them at Creel. They flew out of his hand and scattered on the floor.

“You’re lying! You’ve gone crazy! Only this morning she sent me flowers, damn you!”

“I sent them, senor. I am very sorry to have deceived you, but the doctor said you weren’t ready to hear such had news.”

“You sent them?”

“Yes, senor. I wanted you to get well quickly. That is my writing on the cards. I thought it was unlikely you would know Senora Cade’s handwriting. I took a chance.”

“But there are fifteen of them,” Cade said, his voice beginning to shake. “How long has she been gone?”

“She went the day after her first visit to you, senor.”

Creel shut his eyes. She had come only for his money, he thought. He began to shake.

“Well, go on. There’s more, isn’t there? Who is she with in Spain?” He knew without asking. It had suddenly become clear and horrible: like a nightmare that had materialised into three dimensions.

“Pedro Diaz,” Creel said.

Cade slowly clenched his fists.

“Thank you, Adolfo. Now please go away.”

Creel began to say how sorry he was, but the expression of agony on Cade’s face silenced him. Moved to tears, for he had come to love Cade, the fat man went out of the room and eased the door shut.

Alerted by Creel, but delayed by a patient for some thirty minutes, Dr. Pinto hurried as soon as he was free to Cade’s room.

He found Cade dressed and putting on his jacket. Cade looked briefly at Pinto, his face white, his eyes stony, then began to put his personal things into his pockets.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Pinto said sharply. “You are in no condition to get dressed. You must get back to bed!”

“Shut up!” Cade said. “I’m leaving. Do you want me to sign anything?”

“Senor Cade, I know what has happened. I am truly sorry, but you must act like a responsible person. You are not fit to leave.”

“Shove your sorrow,” Cade said. “I’m leaving. You’ll get paid. Send the account to my agent. Now, get out of my way!”

Pinto saw by Cade’s desperate expression that it was hopeless to try to reason with him.

“You are taking a considerable risk,” he said quietly, “but, of course, I can’t stop you. Will you please wait here until I get the necessary forms for you to sign.”

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” Cade said, sitting on the bed, “then I walk out.”

Twelve minutes later, the form signed, Cade walked unsteadily down the steps of the hospital towards the traffic-packed street.

Creel appeared out of the shade. He was still a little unnerved by his mad rush to reach the hospital after Pinto had called him.

“The car is here, senor,” he said. “Where may I take you?”

Cade had a nightmare-appearance. His white bandaged, shaven head, his chalk-white face, his sunken wild eyes made him the object of startled glances from the steady flow of visitors coming up the hospital steps.

“You don’t have to bother with me,” he said. “I can walk. There is no more gold to rub off. You’re wasting your time.”

“I asked where I may take you, amigo,” Creel said gently.

Cade paused, then stared at the fat man. He put his hand on Creel’s arm.

“Sorry... don’t pay any attention to what I say. Take me to the house.”

They drove in silence to the house. Cade remained in the car for several minutes, staring down at his hands before making the obvious effort of getting out of the car. Creel waited half an hour, then he walked up the path and entered the house.

Cade was sitting in one of the lounging chairs in the living-room, a glass half-full of Tequila in his hand.

“What are those things, Adolfo?” he asked as the fat man came uneasily into the room. He waved his glass towards the table, slopping some of the drink onto the carpet.

Creel looked at the small cards neatly laid out on the table. He peered at them, then grimaced.

“They are tickets on the National Pawnshop.”

Cade leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

“She must have needed money badly,” he said. “Everything has gone.” He drew in a long shuddering breath. “Even my camera equipment.”

Creel sat down and began to list the value of the tickets on the back of a crumpled envelope he had taken from his pocket.

“How much?” Cade asked.

“Eight thousand pesos, senor.”

Cade shrugged.

“What does it matter? You run along, Adolfo. Come and see me tomorrow if you feel like it. Go on, shove off.”

“I believe in courage,” Creel said, getting to his feet. “I once said to you that one can forgive a man much if he has courage. Please don’t disappoint me, senor.”

“You are a sentimental fool,” Cade said, not looking at him. “Run along. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve reached the happy stage when I’m not worth worrying about.”

“I would like to stay. We could talk. Talking often helps.”

“Oh, get out!” Cade said, his voice low and strangled. “I don’t want anyone! Do you imagine I want a greaseball like you slopping over me? Get out!”

“Yes, senor,” Creel said, his face impassive. “I understand.”

As he started to the door, Cade said, “You’re slipping. You called me amigo not so long ago.”

Creel paused.

“If I chose to make a man my friend, I don’t expect him to make me his friend, senor.”

“Oh, get out!” Cade said and picking up the bottle of Tequila, he splashed the raw spirit into his glass.

“Please be careful with that drink,” Creel said, watching him. “It is very dangerous and vicious. It is habit-forming.”

“I said get out!”

Creel regarded him sadly, then went down the path to his car.

Half an hour later, he was talking to Sam Wand on the telephone.

Wand said, “Now look, Adolfo, there is nothing you can do about this. You can’t lead other people’s lives. If Cade gets thrown because some woman takes him to the cleaners, it is his funeral. Not yours, and most certainly not mine. So don’t bother me with Cade’s troubles. I have enough of my own. He’ll snap out of it. Just leave him alone.”

“He is a good man, senor,” Creel protested. “We should try to do something. Can’t you come down here? You could talk some sense into him.”

“No one can talk sense into him. He’ll snap out of it. Quit bothering me!” and Wand hung up.

Creel left the café from where he had been telephoning and went to sit in his car. He sat there for three hours with the indifference to time all Mexicans have and worried about Cade, wondering what he could do for this man he liked so much.

When it was dark, he drove back to Cade’s house. He had no idea what he would say to Cade, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cade to face the night on his own.

He found the house in darkness. The front door was unlocked and he entered the sitting-room and turned on the light.

Cade lay slumped across the table, the bottle of Tequila empty, the glass at his feet.

With difficulty Creel got the unconscious man onto the settee. He loosened his tie and took off his shoes, then he went over to the table and picked up the pawn tickets. These he put in his wallet. He went back and stood over Cade, hesitating to leave him, but he finally decided Cade would sleep the rest of the night and shaking his head, he let himself out of the house and walked slowly and heavily to his car.

A little after 10.00 hours the following morning, Cade swung his legs off the settee and sat up with a groan. He had a splitting headache and his mouth was dry. He remained still for some minutes, his head in his hands, then he forced himself to his feet. He felt weak and shaky and depressed.

He looked around the room, then he stiffened and started forward. His well-used Pan-Am overnight bag stood on the table. With shaking fingers, he pulled back the zipper and looked into the bag. His camera and his equipment were all there, and as he lifted the Minolta from the bag, the door pushed open and Creel came in carrying a tray of steaming coffee, a cup and saucer and a bowl of sugar.

“Good morning, senor,” he said and put down the tray.

Cade looked at him.

“You get this back?” he asked, fondling the camera.

“Yes, senor.” Creel poured the coffee. “How are you feeling?”

“Where did the money come from?”

“A small loan, senor. There is no hurry. We both had disasters. I lost my tyres. You kindly replaced them. You lost your camera...” He lifted his fat shoulders and smiled.

Cade sat down.

“Thank you, Adolfo.”

“It occurred to me that you wouldn’t want to remain in this house,” Creel said, pushing the cup of coffee towards Cade. “I happen to have a spare room in my apartment. It is nothing very much, but I thought you might care to use it for a few days.”

“No. I’m not in the mood for company,” Cade said quickly. “Thanks all the same. I’ll find somewhere.”

“The room has a separate entrance. I understand how you feel, senor. I too would want to be alone. No one would bother you.”

Cade rubbed his aching forehead, hesitated, then shrugged. The thought of trying to find other accommodation appalled him for he knew he couldn’t afford to remain in the house.

“Well, then I can’t very well refuse. Thank you, Adolfo. But only for a few days. That’s understood.”

“Of course. Please enjoy the coffee. I will pack your clothes,” and the fat man went out of the room.

Three hours later, Creel put a telephone call through to Sam Wand.

He explained that Cade was now installed in a room in his apartment.

“It is essential, Senor Wand, for him to start work again. He is in deep depression and is inclined to drink too much. You must find him something at once. He not only needs the money, he needs rehabilitation. This is extremely urgent and important.”

“Okay, Adolfo,” Wand said. “I’ll see what I can dig up. Is he fit enough for work?”

“I think so.”

“How can I contact him?”

Creel gave him Cade’s telephone number.

“You can leave it with me.”

But Creel wasn’t happy. He had alerted his servant, Maria to keep an eye on Cade and she reported that a boy had arrived soon after Cade had moved into the room, carrying three bottles of Tequila. The food she had left outside Cade’s door had been scarcely touched.

The following morning, Creel, taking a newspaper with him as an excuse, knocked on Cade’s door.

There was silence. He knocked again.

“What is it?” Cade’s voice sounded sharp and impatient.

“The newspaper, senor,” Creel said.

“I don’t want it! Leave me alone!”

“Is there anything you want? Cigarettes perhaps?”

“Oh, go to hell and leave me alone!”

Creel lifted his fat shoulders in a gesture of despair and went away. During the afternoon, he visited Cade’s house where he found some mail. He drove back to his apartment and again knocked on Cade’s door.

“There are letters for you, senor.”

There was a pause, then the door jerked open.

Cade had removed the bandage around his shaven head. His hair was beginning to grow again. He hadn’t shaved, and Creel could see he was pretty drunk. He glared at the fat man, his face stony, his eyes glazed.

“Give them to me!”

He snatched the letters out of Creel’s hand and flicked through them with a desperate urgency that made Creel unhappy. He guessed Cade was hoping for a letter from Juana.

“Leave me alone!” Cade said and he slammed the door in Creel’s face.

Sitting on the bed, he ripped open the envelopes. A brief glance told him they were all bills. Among them was a letter from the Car Insurance people acknowledging Juana’s receipt for three thousand dollars as settlement for the Thunderbird. There was also a Diner’s Club statement for six hundred dollars.

Cade tossed the bills on the floor. He walked unsteadily to his dressing-table where the remaining full bottle of Tequila stood. He poured a drink, then flopped down on the bed.

He knew he was destroying himself, but he was past caring. As he was raising the glass to his lips, the telephone bell rang. The sound startled him and he slopped his drink. For a moment, he hesitated, then he put down the glass and lifted the telephone receiver.

It was Sam Wand.

“How are you, Val?” Wand boomed. “You feel fit for a day’s work?”

Cade closed his eyes. His head was swimming and he felt sick.

“You there, Val?”

With an effort Cade said, “Hello there, Sam. I’m fine. Look, I’ve got a flock of bills just arrived. I want you to settle them. Sell Stock. I must get these goddamn debts fixed.”

“That’s okay. Send them to me. I have work for you. Are you fit enough?”

“I keep telling you... I’m more than fine. What’s the job?”

“General de Gaulle will be arriving in Mexico City tomorrow. He’s returning captured flags or some damn thing. You’ve got the French exclusive of this, Val. I’ve bust a gut landing this one for you. It’s big: Paris Match. Jours de France... the lot. Get those pictures and you won’t have to worry about debts. Adolfo will set it all up for you. You have just to get the pictures.”

Cade wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. The Tequila he had drunk was making his head ache again.

“Can do... will do,” he said. “Thanks, Sam. You’ll get them,” and he hung up.

This was the first of the disasters to come from Cade’s camera.

Although Creel did the field work well, arranging for passes, getting Cade an exclusive interview with the General, getting Cade to his allotted place at the Palace well before time, Cade had drunk too much Tequila to bolster up his sagging nerves to make successful photography possible.

He wasn’t even in a fit enough state to process his own films. He had to hire Tomas Olmedo to do it for him. He and Creel sat in Olmedo’s office waiting to see the prints. Both men were silent with a premonition of disaster hanging over them. When Olmedo came out of the dark room, the expression on his face sent a chill up Cade’s spine.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t understand,” Olmedo said, looking bewildered. “These are useless. They are all out of focus. There’s not one that’s any good. Something bad must have happened to the camera.”

Cade knew it wasn’t the camera, but that was his excuse to Wand.

“What the hell do you mean?” Wand shouted furiously when he heard the news. “It’s your business to check your goddamn camera! What’s the matter with you? What am I going to say to Paris Match? You mean you haven’t one goddamn picture for me?”

“This is a once in a lifetime thing, Sam,” Cade said, lying frantically. “The automatic pre-set wasn’t working. It had me fooled. It’s just one of those things.”

“Is that what you think? Let me tell you something! You’ve fixed me in France! Those boys don’t listen to excuses. Judas! Cade... how could you do a thing like this to me?”

“Oh, shut up!” Cade shouted. “This could have happened to anyone. Forget it! Find me something else! I want money! I’m cleaned out! Right now, I’m borrowing from Creel. Find me something! Do you hear?”

“Pull another stunt like this, and you and me are through,” Wand said. “It’s all right for you to talk this way, but I have to do the explaining. This fiasco is going to cost me plenty!”

“Stop whining!” Cade reached for the ever ready glass of Tequila and drank. “I’ve got to have work!”

“I’ll call you,” Wand said and banged down the receiver.

Two days later, Cade received a statement of accounts from Wand. All his bills had been settled, including Dr. Pinto’s account and the hospital charges. He no longer owned any Stock and he saw with a sinking heart that the account included his half year’s royalty. He realised he wasn’t worth a dollar now since he already owed Creel seven hundred dollars and his credit balance with Wand was six hundred and fifty dollars.

But he was beyond caring. He was hooked by alcohol. Without the deadening effects of Tequila his mind immediately began to dwell on Juana, and this was something he couldn’t bear.

Wand got him the assignment to cover the Duke of Edinburgh’s visit to Mexico for Look Now, a new, but up-and-coming magazine that circulated in California. They were offering six hundred dollars for exclusive pictures.

“Can’t you do better than that?” Cade demanded furiously over the telephone. “Edinburgh is a big story, damn it! This should be a syndicate job!”

“So it is, but Lucas has got that,” Wand said. “The words got around about the General. You’ve only yourself to blame. I’m sorry, Val, take it or leave it. It’s up to you, but if you do the job, for God’s sake, give me pictures!”

“You’ll get them,” Cade said.

It cost him a lot physically and mentally to get the pictures. Half the time he was drunk, the rest of the time he wished he were drunk. When the films were processed, Olmedo silently handed him the prints. He didn’t even bother to look at them. He knew they were the ordinary run-of-the-mill stuff any third rate press man would take, but at least they were in focus and could be reproduced, but they weren’t Cade.

The following afternoon Wand came through on the telephone. Cade was lying on his bed with the now inevitable glass of Tequila in his hand. He guessed it was Wand and for some moments, he let the bell ring, afraid to hear what Wand would say. Then he sat up, put down his drink and lifted the receiver.

He was expecting a blast from Wand, but this time Wand was quiet, but nonetheless lethal.

“Look, Val, I don’t think you can be fit,” he said. “This stuff you sent me is no use to Look Now. They could have hired any small time photographer if they wanted the prints you have come up with.”

Cade felt a surge of weak rage rush through him.

“What the hell do they expect for six hundred lousy dollars?” he shouted. “Those photographs...”

“Skip it, Val! They’ve paid, but they are using Lucas’s prints. It’s costing them, but they have a reputation to think of. So have I. I’m sending you six hundred dollars. I’m not taking any commission. That should hold you for a couple of months if you’re careful. You take it easy and rest. When you’re really fit, I’ll look around for something for you, but right now...”

“Oh, get stuffed!” Cade shouted, his voice high-pitched and he slammed down the receiver.

The noise of the fast moving traffic coming through the open window, the monotonous whine of Maria’s vacuum cleaner, the sudden roar of a passing jet tore at his nerves.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t believe, after all these years, Wand was dropping him. The fat slug! Who did he think he was anyway? Cade reached for the glass and drained it. He got unsteadily to his feet.

Well, Wand wasn’t the only agent! He would show him! From now on, he would never get another Cade picture!

Then something came adrift inside Cade. He began to shake. Dropping on his knees, he hid his face in his hands. Racking, gasping sobs came from him as sounds of hopeless despair.