I felt a trickle of cold sweat run down my face and I flicked it away with my finger.
'I had lost her anyway,' I said.
I thought of Lucy, her laugh when she was happy, the way her bottom twitched, her freckles and her eyes that scared easily. Yes, I had lost her in every sense now. She had found this long slob and she had said they thought alike. Thinking about them, I realised they would have made a better pair than she and I had done.
I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
'Ask them to send up coffee,' I said and closed my eyes.
A bright-eyed, coloured boy came up with a tray of coffee. As he set it down, I said, 'Do you want to earn five dollars?'
His eyes grew round.
'I sure do.'
'Is there a sports' store around here?'
'A sports' store? Yeah . . . at the end of the block.'
'I want a Levison hunting knife : I want two of them. They cost around thirty dollars each. There's five bucks in it for you if you go along and get them for me.'
He gaped at me, a little uneasily.
'A Levison hunting knife?'
'That's it. They'll stock it. Okay?'
He nodded, looking from me to Raimundo and from Raimundo back to me.
'Give him the money,' I said.
Raimundo took out his two one hundred dollar bills and gave one of them to the boy.
'Well, it's your money,' the boy said. 'I'll get them if that's what you want,' and he left the room.
'What's the idea?' Raimundo asked.
I poured the coffee.
'Knives are silent,' I said.
* * *
We had been lying on our beds for the past two hours. Raimundo seemed to sense the mood I was in. He lay flat on his back, his eyes closed. He was probably dozing. I mourned for Lucy and I buried her. It was a mental thing, but realistic. I gave her the funeral I thought she would like with lots of flowers and organ music and a tall, dignifiedlooking padre. I even said a prayer for her : the first prayer I've said since I was a kid. I then thought over the six months we had spent together, picking out the highlights, then I closed the memory book. It had a lock on it and I turned the key and threw the key away. There were now other things to think about. I didn't imagine I would think of her again. I had lost a lot of buddies during the war. I had gone to their funerals, but never to a memorial service. When I say goodbye, there is nothing else to say.
'When Savanto gets a hole in his head,' I said suddenly, 'what will you do?'
Raimundo lifted his head from the pillow and looked at me. 'It's a pipe dream, soldier. I wish I could make you believe it.'
'Don't answer the question if you don't want to. Why should I care?'
There was a long pause as Raimundo studied me.
'If he did get a hole in his head,' he said finally, 'I'd go back to my wife and kids in Caracas.'
'So you have a wife and kids?'
'Yeah . . . four kids . . . three boys and a girl.'
'With Timoteo dead and the old animal dead . . . what happens?'
'I guess Lopez will become Boss. There's no one else What sort of man is he?'
'Short of brains but peaceful.'
'Would he take care of you?'
'I wouldn't want his care. He would leave me alone. That's all I would want. I have a farm. My wife looks after it. With me working with her, it would become something important.'
'So you have something to plan for . . . a future?'
He got the message.
'I guess I have.'
There came a tap on the door.
I whipped Raimundo's automatic from under my pillow and covered it in my hand with the bed sheet.
'Open up,' I said softly. 'Get your back to the wall and swing the door open slowly.'
Raimundo was off the bed and by the door in a smooth, silent flash. Watching him, I knew he was going to be a useful man to have with me when the crunch came. He turned the key and eased open the door.
I was ready to shoot, but when I saw the coloured boy standing in the doorway, his eyes rolling, I left the gun under the sheet and brought my hand into sight.
'I've got those knives,' he said.
