The Assignment Read Online Free PDF Page B

distance to the entrance was no more than three yards, the arrangement with the guards was repeated before the Resident and his secretary were allowed to enter the foyer. This room was ostentatiously equipped with luxurious furniture and colorful wall decorations. A policeman opened a door in the far wall and at the same time made a sign to the woman to stay where she was.
    Manuel Ortega went into a small room containing low tables and leather armchairs. Two men were already in there, one whom he had only heard of and seen in pictures and one whom he knew of old. The former was Jacinto Zaforteza, Minister of the Interior in the federal government, the other Miguel Uribarri, Chief Inspector of the C.I.D.
    Manuel shook hands with Zaforteza and embraced his brother-in-law.
    The Minister of the Interior was a large, coarse man with a bull neck and short gray hair. Several heads of government had considered him invaluable, but no one really knew why. He was a skilled orator and his powerful blustering voice had over the years become almost physically penetrating.
    He began to speak at once.
    “The only thing I can do for you at the moment is to welcome you most warmly and give you a word or two on your way. Your task is an extremely delicate one and perhaps it will land you in some awkward situations. Don’t expect swift or grandiose results—the situation is much too complicated for that. We expect nothing of that sort from you anyhow. What we do expect, on the other hand, is uncompromising loyalty and complete cooperation. Two things must be avoided at all costs: open military activity and incidents of a kind that arouse international attention. Otherwise you have a free hand. It is important that you get to your destination as quickly as possible. So an air force helicopter is coming to pick you up in twenty minutes. You should be able to get down there in less than five hours.”
    Zaforteza glanced at his watch, embraced him, heavily and powerfully, and then dashed out of the room.
    Manuel Ortega stared in astonishment at the closed door. He had in fact not had the chance to say a single word.
    “Yes, you can see how much help you can expect from that quarter,” said Uribarri.
    He was a small, neat man with a thin face and a narrow black mustache. Although he was wearing civilian clothes, his bearing bore traces of many and long years in various uniforms. He strode impatiently up and down the room.
    “Manuel, what in the hell have you done?”
    He said it suddenly and with unexpected violence.
    “You’ve made a terrible mistake. The situation down there is horrible. They’re all mad.”
    “I’m certain the problem can be solved.”
    “To hell with the problem. It’s possible that you might get them to agree, but I don’t care about that. What I’m thinking of is your personal safety.”
    “But the Federal Police …”
    “The Federal Police are a collection of idiots—at their best. You saw the circus out there for yourself? Huge escorts with sirens to move one man three hundred yards on an empty airfield. The most logical thing would have been to let you come in as unobtrusively as possible.”
    “Well, anyhow, it’s too late now.”
    “Yes—it’s too late to withdraw—but not to save your life. Listen now. I’ve sent four men down there. They’ll meet your helicopter. They’re my men, the best I can find. Their only job is to look after you, and I promise you they know their job. Remember one thing: of all the people you’ll meet, these four are the only ones you
know
you can trust. Don’t trust anyone else, not the army, nor the police, nor anyone else.”
    Uribarri walked over to the window and peered out between the slats of the blind.
    “Who’s that woman?”
    “My secretary.”
    “Where’s she from?”
    “The embassy in Copenhagen.”
    “Name?”
    “Danica Rodríguez.”
    He pondered the name for a moment.
    “Doesn’t mean anything to me,” he said finally.
    Manuel Ortega smiled