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"Pack!" he jel's In hall a secomt he issli the way across the room. "Pack!"Branch sits straight in beel and inthe most plaintive voce Rothchild hasever heard him use, a mixture of recog-nition, terror, disappointment, confu-sion and pleading, says just one word:"Ricardo?"It is Morales all right. Branchwatches him anatch back the curtainsto check the balcony, then dart aroundthe chairs. "Pack!" There is a rhythmto his order. He is moving like a cat,frenzimi but in total control. Rothchildfeels the energy coming off him inwaves. He slips into the bathroom topiss just to get away from Morales,but he is so scared that nothing comes.More orders come out in staccatobursto "Get those bags closed! Giveme your passports! Give me your air-line tickets!" Branch ard Rothchildare convinced that he wants to destroythe documents before he kills them.Morales leaves the room within twominutes, but his performance leaves somuch afterlife that Rothchild and-Branch don't do anything once he hasleft. They don't call anybody, they don'tsneak off the balcony, they don't evensay a word to each other.Both of them jump off the floor whenthe phone rings, then look dumbly ateach other. Branch picks up the re-ceiver, grunts, and puts it down. "Allthe guy said was, 'He is waiting," hetells Rothchild. Branch's own voicesounds far off to him.Inclán has had rough going down-stairs, maybe rougher than the other(two because she is alone and also be-cause she is not yet a. U.S. citizen.Morales wakes her up with the samestaccato commands. She thinks maybehe is going to take her away and haveher deported back to Havana. She is soscared that she locks herself in thebathroom and doesn't. come out untilshe hears the other two reporters stum-bling downstairs with their bags,Morales twists the knife with a littlehumiliation. "Pay your bill!" he yells.Branch doesn't think he should have topay for the hospitality he has received,but he pulls out his wallet without asecond's hesitation. "Pick up yourbags! Let's go!" The reporters arehustled out of the lobby, past a squad-ron of sunglasses. Morales is alreadyahead of them, barking orders on hiswalkie-talkie. kie. It is still dark.The reporters are put into the backof a car. Morales and a driver are upfront. Nobody is talking much. Branchis wearing his best suit, which he doesnot remember putting on during Mo-rales brutal prodding. Now he thinksmaybe something deep in his uncon-scious had ordered him to look his best.Rothchild is terrified that they aretraveling in a private car instead ofan official police car. His fear of beingofficially detained is rapidly, being re-placed by a fear of being unofficiallybumped off. He keeps looking back atthe car full of poons that is followingclose behind as they careen down themountain at one hundred twenty ki-lometers an hour.The car is heading out of town now,::t the populated areas and into thosests where executions and accidentstake place, Branch is desperately trying to make contact with Murales. Hementions some people from Miami sivathe and Morales had once talked to together. But every tinie Branch drops aname, Morales turns the volume up onthe radio. He leaves it that way, blaring, until the questioner gives up andBits back in his seat. But desperationcreates another question, another try,which ends in another mambo blast.Branch gives up on the name-droppingand even tries some spy-world guiltproduction. "Rip would not like whatyou are doing to us," he says. "Ripwould be ashamed," Rip Robertson wasMorales' gun-toting case officer in theCongo operations. Rothchild thinksBranch is foolish to bring up the Congoand remind Morales how little he caresfor human life. Morales says nothing.He just gives the radio knob anothertwist.Incián is taking the personal routeagain, talking about this nephew shehas seen, mentioning other relatives ofMorales who live in Miami. Moralesisn't answering her, either. He is getting tired of the the radio. Now he justleans his head over against the door toget some sleep.-Watching Morales nod,the fury turned off like a light,Branch's mind is filled with memoriesof Miami Curans telling stories oflegendary agents who would drop offto sleep just before landing in Cuba ona C.I.A. commando raid. He never quitebelieved the stories, but he thinksMorales' nap is very effective theater.Rothchild is also watching the nap.Every time Morales nods, Rothchildthinks he is ducking so that the bulletsfrom the car behind won't hit him.Rothchild ducks, too.After about twenty minutes of driv-ing, the road flattens out and the re-porters can see the airport in the distance. Morales mentioned "airport"once back in the hotel lobby, but thereporters were never sure he intendedto take them there. If he were justplanning to expel them, it would seemthat he could afford to be more com-municative, more curious about whatthe reporters were doing, more worriedabout the kind of story they mightwrite about him. But, Morales asked,no questions. Rothchild knew fromBranch's incessant briefings. that Mo-rales wore a lot of hats: terrorist aswell as informant, mercenary as wellas cop, bomber as well as representa-tive of a government. It might be moreparanoia to think he would kill them,but all last night's paranoia had cometrue.The reporters know one thing: theyhave stumbled onto a story that isbig enough and sensitive enough thattop people in the Venezuelan DISIPare interrupting their sleep and risk-ing diplomatic reprisals to scare thehell out of them. It isn't routine inVenezuela, one of the few South Ameri-can countries left with any sense offreedoin of the press. There is something big going on, and the reporters idon't know, as they speed throughCara whether they will ever get tofind on. what it is Nobody, after all,knows neere the reporters are, and theonly thing on their side, besinies somevestural compassion that might residepomewhere even in goors, is the sensethat would opinion would be on Mo-rales back if they did get tortured orbilled. But that's just the point-worldoption was on the terrorists' backsabout the Cuban airline crash andabout Letlier and Mothtt. They killedthem anyway. They didn't give a damn.The car pulls up at the airport. It isless than eight hours since the report.era catered the country, and they havetalked to nobody except Morales, thegoons and each other. Their best guessis that Morales plans to keep it thatway.Breakfast at Ricardo'sMorales marches the group throughpart of the airport lobby and then upsome back stairs, past the meteorologyroom and into the tower section. Theyarrive at a locked, knobless door withasmall pass-through window, andMorales has to knock before it isopened from the inside. They havearrived at the goon control center.There is a four-drawer cabinet wherethe DISIP police file their guns andbullet clips like memos. There is anold couch, a few desks, and in an ad-Joining room some bunk beds. All thepeople from the night shift are stillthere, including Romulo, in the same.turtleneck and the same leather jacket.The most impressive new lurker is acharacter they call "El Largo," or "TheLong One."It is clear now that the plan is nottorture, it is deportation, but the re-porters sense that the plan could easilybe changed. Morales is stalking between rooms, giving orders and mak-ing calls, and when he looks at the re-porters he seethes with anger. Inclánand Branch are directing more ques-tions at him from the couch. He an-swers only with contemptuous looks.No one is prepared for what happensnext. Morales walks out with a widegrin on his face. He clasps his handstogether like a waiter and cheerfullyaddresses the reporters: "Is anybodyhungry? Are you ready for some break-fast?"The reporters follow Morales dumblydown the maze of corridors. They decide there is something oriental aboutrecent developments, and they are con-venced Morales could show them greatcourtesy one moment and yank outtheir toenails "the next. They followMorales down the corridors until theycome to a small dining room that appears to be reserved for airport per-sonnel. Branch gives fleeting thought |to the idea of making a scene, buthe decides Morales would not havebrought them here unless he controlled;the area. Besides, Branch realizes, hedoes not have the courage to make ascene in front of Morales, who still hasthe reporters nearly paralyzed withfrightMorales lays his big walkie-talkiedown on the table and snaps for asentiaved7