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President Carrero Arosemena had been President of Panama for a little under two years. In that time, he faced a number of situations that would never have come to mind before he took office. If he had to predict the most unlikely situation of all, it would be the American now sitting on the other side of his desk, relating the facts of a small victory and an overwhelming loss. The victory was pyrrhic, at best. The death of Enrique Moore was stagger, a loss to his tiny country, a personal tragedy for Arosemena.
"I have trouble selecting the correct words, Mr. Waverly." The voice was steady, but greatly weakened under the strain. His English was accented but well-chosen the result of an American education. "Enrique was like....a son to me. Not only did we work together...he felt the same about our country as I do. He saw things...imagined the future much in the same way. I---I don't think I can make myself clear....."
Waverly understood what President Arosemena was saying---about a loss that can never be replaced. He longed for that very special courage to say "I understand. Trust me. I can understand more than you think." But it was something he knew he couldn't do, not anymore. He'd seen so many go that way that he could accept the loss of most of them.
Arosemena sighed. "Everything he did seemed to be the proper thing to do." The President shook his head sadly, staring down at his desk for a moment. When he looked up at Waverly, his voice had regained its penetrating sharpness, and his black eyes were as piercing as his photographs. "We will put this little moment aside for our own memories. That is not why you're here."
"Frankly, sir, I'd hoped to meet you before all this happened. You see, I also represent...."
"I know who you represent. That's why you were refused admission to this office before. Beyond the fact that I wanted to learn of Enrique's death from the man who was there with him, General Lavaca's preliminary report this morning indicated that I must put aside my personal prejudices for the time being. And----I don't know how to thank you for fighting beside Enrique for our country."
"I had no choice. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Neither Enrique nor I expected anything that occurred. With even the slightest indication that we were in danger, we both would have been elsewhere. Mr. President, I don't really want to be fighting with your people, but I do enjoy killing Chinamen or Cubans whenever they get in my way. And I have no doubt that they, rather than your rebels, were behind that attack. I very much intend to leave Panama alive, and I'm unhappy enough over what's happened to me that I want to get a point across any way I can." He paused, expecting Arosemena to ask just what that point was.
"You and Cat Cato have become fast friends." Arosemena stared passively at him, his face without expression, the subject suddenly changed.
Waverly, startled, looked incredulously at President Arosemena. The expression on the man's face remained the same. He seemed to be stating a fact rather than rubbing his nose in it. He's stalling, thought Waverly. "I hadn't realized that he had become public knowledge."
"It is not 'public knowledge,'" Arosemena's voice had become harsh. "Truthfully, Mr. Waverly, we have to know what's happening every minute of the day whenever someone like you enters our country. Unfortunately, Ms. Cato's private life became part of that. You may be sure that what the two of you do together doesn't go beyond those who need to know, but she is vitally important to me." His face softened slightly. "What you have done for her and for us so far, Mr. Waverly, strikes me as very un-American, especially considering my regard for many of your countrymen." The corners of his mouth cracked into the tiniest of smiles. "Let me say that so far, I'd be willing to fight for her honor if your name were brought up. Now that we understand one another, I assume you have a point to make?"
"Would you also accept some of what I was sent here to explain to you?"
"Yes, I will listen. Will I accept? Quien Sabe?"
"Mr. President, did General Lavaca explain the body I pulled out of Limon Bay last night? It was obviously Chinese....yellowish complexion, slanted eyes....a letter handwritten in Chinese in his pocket? Or the officer in the Cuban uniform? The General seemed especially surprised. Enrique had hoped that if I was right, we could bring back a prisoner to make our point. The dead ones were the best we could do..." His voice drifted off as he watched Arosemena's face, waiting for some expression that would lower the man's guard. It wasn't forthcoming.
"I'll accept that. Dead men tell no tales, as you Americans say. But I have trouble understanding the reasons, Mr. Waverly."
"Respectfully, Mr. President, is the trouble in understanding the reasons, or is it that you don't want to understand?"
Arosemena's eyes narrowed, not so much in anger, Waverly realized, as with an inner struggle. "I have traveled to Cuba for many years. She has been a good friend to my country. Premier Suarez has been close to me at times...." He was searching for the right words.
"It is almost like arguing the existence of God with a heathen. I am not a priest. I don't have blind faith in Suarez or in Cuba. But, Mr. Waverly, if this were my judgment day and I had to choose between Suarez, who's been a friend and offered succor these days, as opposed to you, who have just walked into my life----what would you choose?"
Waverly had not been prepared for the intensity of a man like Arosemena, or the moral duress he was forced to endure. What Admiral Binghamton always considered cut-and-dried when they were in Washington, became problematical in another man's country. Arosemena raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to one side in question. Perhaps he'd wait like that all day.
"You are posed with a dilemma, sir," Wavery answered. "I can truthfully say that I'm not. My mission is to convey some vital intelligence to you through means outside normal channels. I was also ordered to explain the long-range efforts of what my country saw---from our vantage point, which is decidedly different from yours. The Chinese and Cuban interests in your country are not necessarily the best interests of Panama. I've done this. My job seems to be complete. The decision you have to make, logical or moral or however you want to look at it, is y our own. I can't imagine that you'd want an American's opinion at this stage anyway."
"That's right!" Arosemena was visibly relaxed now. Waverly was unsure of everything he'd said, unsure if he could repeat it to Binghamton, but it seemed to have satisfied Arosemena. "A man must make his own decisions....and I have done so. Your message is accepted, Mr. Waverly."
"I'm glad to hear that. I guess there's no point in my taking any more of your time. I appreciate your seeing me." Waverly rose to shake hands. There was no point in staying. There had to be another way.
"Please...please sit down for just a moment, Mr. Waverly. There is one more thing." He gestured toward the chair, his hand outstretched. "You see, you say your responsibility seems to be over. Mine is just beginning, and on a tragic note. You say I have problems within my military organization....even within my government. I need help in determining just what steps the revolutionaries will take. You say, yourself, that they want to become part of the government rather than destroy it. You say your country, through Admiral Binghamton, wants to offer technical and military assistance if I request it. But who am I expected to work with? Enrique is gone. No one was closer to me."
Waverly wait, saying nothing. He neither welcomed Arosemena's next request, which he knew to be forthcoming, nor could he imagine why he should accept. It was what Binghamton wanted, to have him work his way into the uppermost strata of the government. Dammit! He wished Harry Locke would show.
"Mr. President, I appreciate your problems and trust me, I'm honored that you'd be willing to trust me. But I'm not the kind of guy you're looking for."
"The fact that you're a professional is appealing to me, Mr. Waverly, you're still relatively free of suspicion in this country...or as much as you or anyone else could be at this point. I'd like you to think it over."
Waverly shook his head, smiling politely. Hold out, he reminded himself, until Locke shows up. "Thank you, but I think I'll have to decline." In response, to a button that Arosemena had pressed, a door from one of the side rooms opened. Waverly turned. Dammit, he said to himself as he looked first at Arosemena, then back at Cat. She came directly across the room to Arosemena, gave him a paternal kiss on the cheek, and took the chair next to Waverly. He knew what was going to happen now.65Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAuU60rRGvQ
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Waverly explained before he left Arosemena's office that he preferred to wander and think sometimes after making decisions contrary to his own best judgement. This was one of those times, Cat understood.
What disturbed Waverly most was what he didn't know. The events since he'd arrived in Panama seemed to follow a logical progression, haphazard yet understandable when considered from afar. There were times---Harry Locke had mentioned this before---when Harry Binghamton kept too much from them. Everything in their business was on a need-to-know basis. They would never hold it against Binghamton when the Admiral decided to withhold information, but there was a patina of uncertainty that seemed to cover almost everything he had encountered in Panama---even the fates that had brought Newton Waverly and Cat Cato together. She not only opened all the doors that needed to be opened, but more often than not she was also quite comfortable with the individuals beyond those doors. She seemed always to be slightly ahead of the puzzle that he himself was trying to unravel.
What was it, then, that Binghamton was hiding from him?65Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhXOJoKhRMv
