“I doubt it,” said Longarm. “Chances are he’d just refer it to some committee for further study.” Coffin glanced over at Longarm and broke into a grin. “Hell, Long, you ain’t so bad after all. We got off to a rough start, but you might do to ride the river with.”
Longarm bit back the sarcastic comment he might have made about how Coffin’s approval meant so much to him. Instead, he said, “I’ll go find the owner of the hotel and break the news to him that he’s about to lose his dining room—at least part of the time.”
Chapter 6
That afternoon was one of the most frustrating in Longarm’s memory.
The hotel manager didn’t like it one bit, but he finally agreed to close down the dining room and turn it over to the diplomats. Longarm didn’t tell the man exactly who Barton, Guiterrez, and the others were, of course, just intimated that they were all there on important government business and would appreciate some cooperation.
“I suppose the guests can go over to the Red Top and eat,” the manager said with a sigh. “What do you think the chances are that I can get the government to reimburse the hotel for the money it’ll lose while this is going on?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Longarm replied honestly.
A little later, he brought Barton, Quine, and Markson down to the dining room to have a look at it. Barton didn’t appear any too happy as he said, “I suppose this will have to do. I doubt very seriously that there would be anything more appropriate here in this border town.” He gestured at the tables covered with red-and-white checked cloths. “We can put some of these tables together to make a larger one. You’ll see to that, won’t you, Mr. Long?”
“Sure,” said Longarm. He and Coffin might have to move the tables around themselves, but if that was what it took, he supposed they didn’t have much choice.
“Let me know when you have things ready,” Barton said as he turned and headed toward the lobby. “I want to get started as soon as possible so that I can get back to Washington.”
“Shouldn’t I check with Senor Guiterrez and make sure these arrangements suit him too?” Longarm asked Barton’s retreating back.
“Of course, of course,” said Barton off-handedly, but Longarm knew he didn’t really care if the arrangements suited Don Alfredo or not.
How the hell had a fella like that wound up working for the State Department? Longarm wondered. Barton was supposed to be a diplomat, but you sure couldn’t tell it by the way he treated those he considered to be hired help.
Luckily, Don Alfredo was more reasonable. Trailed by Capitan Hernandez, the little banty rooster of a federale, he came downstairs at Longarm’s request and looked at the dining room, nodding in satisfaction.
“This will do quite well, Senor Long,” he said. “Though in truth the meetings could have been carried on upstairs if need be.”
“No, that’s all right,” Longarm told him. “This is the way Mr. Barton wants it.”
“Then that is the way he shall have it.” Amusement glittered for a second in the Mexican diplomat’s eyes. “I just hope he does not expect me to be as agreeable in every matter that may come up in our discussions.”
Longarm figured there wasn’t much chance of that. He had a feeling Don Alfredo was a shrewd negotiator. The fact that he couldn’t seem to see how lusty his daughter was didn’t mean he wasn’t sharp as a tack in other areas.
When Guiterrez had returned to his suite, Longarm and Coffin saw to arranging the tables the way Barton wanted them. Then Longarm headed for Barton’s room, intending to inform the diplomat that everything was ready downstairs.
He was met in the second-floor corridor by Jeffery Spooner, who said sharply, “I want to talk to you, Mr. Long.”
Everybody wanted to talk to him, thought Longarm, which really meant they wanted to issue demands or complain about something. He kept his tone carefully neutral as he asked, “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“It’s Major,” said Spooner in a half whisper. “And don’t forget, Long, these are supposed to be secret meetings. You’d better call me Mr. Spooner.”
With an effort, Longarm was able to keep from rolling his eyes in disgust. The way things had gone so far, nothing about the whole affair was going to be a secret for very long. “What do you need, Mr. Spooner?” he asked.
“I’ve heard that there was some trouble here early this morning, before we arrived. Is that true?”
Longarm nodded. “It is. A gang of outlaws raided the town and robbed the bank. Some of the citizens were killed in the shooting, and so were some of the bandits.”
Spooner looked at him incredulously. “And yet you intend to let these meetings go on as if nothing has happened?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” asked Longarm. “That raid didn’t have anything to do with what brought you here, Major. The fella who’s ramrodding those desperadoes just decided to hit the town for a change, instead of another of the ranches around here. The gang made a good haul, but they took some heavy losses. I don’t reckon they’ll be back.”
“Can you guarantee that?” Spooner snapped.
“I can’t guarantee anything,” said Longarm. Then he thought, Except that this job is going to be a pain in the ass. He went on. “But I can tell you that it’s likely we won’t see El Aguila again while we’re here in Del Rio.”
“El Aguila,” Spooner repeated. “I suppose that’s this bandit chief you spoke of?”
“Yep. Coffin, that Texas Ranger who’s helping me out, plans to help the local sheriff run the gang to ground once these meetings are over.”
