The Death’s Head Conspiracy

Fourteen

Hernando Cortes came ashore at Veracruz in 1519, the first Spaniard to set foot on Mexican soil. Since then, the city has been captured in various wars by the Americans and twice by the French.

As we skimmed in over the Gulf of Campeche and I squinted down at the sunlit city, it was plain that Veracruz was now, at least, a prize worthy of all that blood and thunder.

We settled onto a pad behind the American Consulate, where I turned down an invitation to stay for lunch. I was feeling stiff and sticky from my exertions, wiped out for want of sleep, and I didn’t feel like making small talk over martinis with some of our foreign service types. I shook hands with Martin, assured him again that he’d get his money back, and used an outside telephone to call for a taxi.

The cab ride to the Hotel Bahia Bonito twisted through some of the city’s ancient cobblestone streets lined with quaint old houses, and zoomed along the wide modern thoroughfares next to steel and glass skyscrapers.

My hotel was antiquated but comfortable, the kind with a big center courtyard open to the sky and three tiers of rooms around it I told the driver to wait and went inside. When I gave my name, the man at the desk handed me a room key, a thick, sealed envelope, and a package the size of a clarinet case. I slit the envelope and found, in various sizes and colors: dollars, pesos, quetzales, cordobas, colons, lempiras, balboas, bolivars, gourdes, pounds, francs, and guilders. I pulled out the pesos, paid the driver, and with the package under my arm, went up to my room on the third floor. There wasn’t any message from Pilar or from anyone else.

I took a long, steamy bath followed by a cool shower, then unwrapped the package of gum-cleaning equipment and went to work on the Luger. I could have asked Hawk to get me a new pistol, but Wilhelmina was an old and reliable friend.

I stripped the Luger down and examined all the parts. Since it had been well-oiled and protected by the waterproof covering, the salt water hadn’t yet cor-roded the metal. I used solvent on every part, even the tiny screws, and ran patches through the bore until they came out virginal white. I dried the disassembled gun with the lint-free cotton wiper, touched the critical parts with low-viscosity lubricating oil, and put the Luger back together. I filled the eight-cartridge clip from the box of shells Hawk had provided, and slipped Wilhelmina into my belt holster.

My body needed sleep, but my mind wouldn’t give up. There were plans to make, loopholes to close. And whenever I gave my brain a rest, the picture of Rona swam into view. The blonde girl whose slender, supple body had been so many nights in my embrace, could not be dismissed as Just another working partner lost.

They don’t allow the time or depletion for sorrow, I thought bitterly, and banged out of my room. Down at the desk I asked if there was a store nearby where I could buy clothes.

“Yes, senor. Aguilars, just across the street, has an excellent selection,” the clerk said.

“Gracias. I am expecting a visitor. If she arrives, tell her where to find me.”

I crossed the street and spent a fistful of Hawk’s money on clothes. Dressed in a new suit with all the appropriate accessories, I checked with my desk clerk again, then sauntered up the street to a sidewalk cafe. I took a table where I could watch the entrance and ordered a bottle’ of local brandy, which burned like fire but didn’t taste bad. Sipping the brandy, I wondered how long I should wait before deciding that my contact, Pilar, was not going to show.

Just then a dark girl in a low-cut blouse that barely contained her magnificent breasts, swayed between the tables and came to a stop at mine. Her hair was black and thick, with a slightly tousled, fresh-from-bed disorder. She had black-coffee eyes that promised exotic pleasures.

“Can you spare a match?” she asked with a bare trace of accent.

“Sorry, I don’t keep them since I quit smoking.” I clued her.

“I tried to quit last year myself, but I only lasted two weeks,” she answered correctly.

“You must be Pilar.”

“Yes. And you are Nick Carter… called Killmaster. Your reputation has preceded you.” “I don’t know if I should play modest or apologize.”

Her full lips curved into a smile. “One should never apologize. May I sit down?”

“Of course. My manners are a bit worn today, like the rest of me.”

Pilar eased into a chair across the table from me. “You look as though you could use some sleep,” she said.

“Business first,” I said with an insinuating smile. “Can we talk here?”

Her lovely eyes drifted over the idlers in the cafe and the pedestrians strolling by on the sidewalk. “It’s as good a place as any,” she told me with a shrug.

I signaled the waiter for another glass and poured brandy for Pilar. Then I asked abruptly, “What did you do to your hair?”

Instinctively, her hand went to her head in momentary confusion, then she smiled. “You must have been told I was a redhead. As you know, it often becomes necessary in our business to change one’s appearance. Do you like it black?”

“Love it. Bet you were a knockout as a redhead, too.”

“Why, thank you,” she said and peered at me mischievously from under her long lashes.

For an instant Pilars features seemed to fade and shift into the fine-boned face of Rona Volstedt. I took a gulp of the powerful brandy and the image vanished.

“The only lead we have,” I said, “is the launch that put the suitcase aboard the Gaviota. I couldn’t spot a name or identifying numbers in the dark. It rode too low in the water and was powered by twin outboards.”

Pilar chewed on her lip and shook her head.

“That’s not much to go on. Did you get a look at any of the men in the launch?”

“The man in charge was short, thickly built, and completely bald.”

She held up a hand to stop me. “A stocky, bald man?”

“That’s right. Do you know him?”

“I think so. There is such a man who leads a band of smugglers on Curasao. He is called Torio.”

“Can you tell me where to find him?”

“I can take you there. I know Curasao, and we’ll be able to move quickly.”

For a minute I was going to object. I didn’t want her to end up like Rona. But Pilar was right, I could waste precious time blundering around Curasao without a guide, and time was the all-important factor.

“How soon can we leave?” I said.

“We can catch an early flight tomorrow morning. I will make the arrangements.”

“Can we get started sooner?”

“No. And it is important that you rest tonight. Tomorrow you will have to be strong and alert.”

My aching muscles agreed. We drank another glass of brandy, and she walked with me to my hotel.

“I will come for you in the morning,” Pilar said, “and we will go to the airport.”

I left her in the courtyard and wearily climbed the stairs to my room.