B004L2LMEG EBOK Read Free Page B

agitated, takes a few steps, comes back, opens and shuts his fan. “All the Amazon District will raise the roof and think the mastermind of the scandal is General Scavino.”
    “I can already hear that demagogue Sinchi vomiting out his slander against me on the radio,” General Scavino turns, is suddenly disturbed.
    “My instructions are for the Special Service to function with the greatest secrecy,” Captain Pantoja dares to take off his kepi, to rub a handkerchief across his forehead, to wipe his eyes. “I’ll keep those orders very much in mind at every moment, General.”
    “And what the hell could I invent to placate the people?” General Scavino shouts, goes around the desk. “Have they given any thought in Lima to the role I’ll have to play?”
    “If you’d rather, I can ask for my transfer today,” Captain Pantoja grows pale. “To prove to you that I have no interest in the Special Service.”
    “What a euphemism these geniuses have thought up,” Father Beltrán taps his heels, his back turned, looking at the glistening river, the cabañas, the level stretch of trees. “Special Service…Special Service.”
    “Nothing doing with transfers; they’d send me another officer in a week,” General Scavino sits down again, fans himself, wiping his bald pate. “It’s up to you whether this hurts the Army or not. You’ve got a responsibility on your shoulders as big as a volcano.”
    “You can sleep peacefully, General,” Captain Pantoja stiffens, throws back his shoulders, looks straight ahead. “The Army is what I respect and love most in life.”
    “The best way you can serve it now is to keep far away from it,” General Scavino softens his tone and attempts a friendly expression. “While you’re in command of that Service, at least.”
    “I’m sorry,” blinks Captain Pantoja. “What are you saying?”
    “I don’t want you ever to set foot in the quartermaster’s or in the barracks at Iquitos,” General Scavino turns the palms and backs of his hands to the humming, invisible blades of the fan. “You’re excused from attending all official functions, parades, Te Deums. Also from wearing a uniform. You’ll dress only in civilian clothes.”
    “I even have to come to work in mufti?” Captain Pantoja continues to blink.
    “Your work is going to be very far away from the quartermaster’s,” observes General Scavino with misgiving, with consternation, with piety. “Don’t be naïve, man. Do you think that I’d be able to open an office for you here—for the traffic you’re going to organize? I’ve arranged for a depot on the outskirts of Iquitos, by the river. Always dress as a civilian. No one must find out that that place has any connection with the Army. Understand?”
    “Yes, General,” the astonished Captain Pantoja is nodding. “Only…well, I wasn’t expecting anything like this. It’s going to be—I don’t know—like changing my personality.”
    “Remember that you’ve been assigned to the Intelligence Service”—Commander Beltrán comes away from the window, approaches him, gives him a benevolent smile—”and that your life depends on your ability to go unnoticed.”
    “I’ll try to adapt, General,” stammers Captain Pantoja.
    “Nor is it advisable for you to live on the army base, so go look for a small house in the city,” General Scavino is mopping a handkerchief over his eyebrows, ears, lips and nose. “And I want you to have no relations with the officers.”
    “You mean friendly relations, General?” Captain Pantoja chokes.
    “They’re not going to be amorous,” Father Beltrán laughs or grunts or chokes.
    “I know it’s difficult, that it’s going to be hard on you,” General Scavino agrees in a friendly way. “But there’s no other way, Pantoja. Your mission will place you in contact with all kinds of people in the Amazon District. The only way to avoid any reflection on the Army is by sacrificing you.”
    “In short, I must