The Annihilators by Donald Hamilton Page A

not military who remember the name Jimenez not so badly, now that they have experienced Rael. As I say, that is why I am here. A Jimenez, a son of a well-remembered officer, but no army man himself, with no cronies in the officer corps. A Jimenez, who has suffered much, sacrificed much, fighting against Rael and for his country. A figurehead, if you like, crippled in this chair; but a figurehead that can, perhaps, lead the revolution to victory and a better life for the people of Costa Verde.”
    “So you are cutting daddy out, is that it?”
    Jimenez shrugged, a little self-consciously. “It cannot be helped. He has never really been in, recently. His time is past. Even if I had succeeded in the mission on which he sent me, and eliminated Rael, he would not have reaped the benefit. There were others on the ground ready to take advantage of the opportunity if it came. I could see at once that they ware assisting me for their own good, not for my father’s. But there was nothing to do but take advantage of their help, since there was no other help available. The death of Rael was the important thing. Who benefited did not matter greatly. The people would have benefited in any case.”
    “But you goofed,” I said.
    The word threw him for a moment; then he nodded. “Yes. I missed with the first shot and they gave me no time for another.”
    “Well, it happens,” I said. “If you’re the figurehead, who’s behind you?”
    He hesitated, and shrugged again. “It is no big secret. The man’s name is Lupe de Montano, Lupe of the Mountain. He has the name of
bandido
, of course; here if you are against the government, you are always a bandit. Lupe himself will not claim that he is altogether a patriotic saint. My father scorned him as a swashbuckling outlaw in a big hat, very much like that
El Fuerte
you may remember; but he was willing to make use of Lupe, not knowing that Lupe was instead making use of him, and of me. Lupe is ready to move out of the hills now; and he needs respectability for his political movement and a lever to turn the army from Rael. With the name of Jimenez I am that respectability and that lever. That is why he got me out of La Fortaleza and shipped me to the United States to be repaired and reconstructed as far as possible, looking ahead to the time when he could make good use of me.”
    “How did he manage to spring you?” I asked curiously.
    “Spring?” Again the slang word confused him for a moment. “Oh. I think we can say that he got me out of prison in much the same way he just got us into this country, by influence and threats and some bribery. Rael and his butcher Echeverria have made many enemies who are willing to help anyone working against them, particularly if there is a little profit and not too much risk.” There was an old cynicism in the young voice. Ricardo went on: “I cannot tell you much about my escape. I was not really there. I had resigned myself to dying; I wished for death. What did I have left to live for, to live with? I think by this time you have learned what was done to me.” He shook his head. “As for my liberation, I have been told that forged release papers were presented to someone who had agreed not to scrutinize them too closely; but I remember only the pain of being carried, and jolted in a truck, and jounced around in a small, fast boat. At the time I was merely annoyed, as far as I had any feelings at all. They would not let me die in peace. And then the American hospital and the doctors and the operations; and gradually… Well, I was not good for much, the way Echeverria and his torturers had left me. I was no good for a woman and not much good for myself. But if I could still be of some good for my country, then I was not entirely a useless hulk, you understand. So here I am, to do what I can for my people with what remains to me: my heart and my brain and my name.”
    It was a little on the heroic side, but they do like their drama down there;