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( "It sounds like Bosch and Storales have tried hard enough to kill each other." Brauch hesi-Bates and then decides not to tell Koth- child that some of the old C.L.A. Cutans in Miami believe Bosch and Morales have patched things up. Branch does not believe it and it would make things too gnaried. "It's amazing that the Venezue lans would have a guy like Morales high up in their security apparatus," he says absentmindedly-I mean he's a Cuban, and he has worked for Castro, the C.L.A., and the F.B.I., and he's a veteran of gangland-type warfare. It's like tinding a West German high up in the CI.A. and then discovering that he has also worked for the KGB and the Shah of fran. But from what I hear, that's a pretty com- mon background to have down here. There are Cubans all over Latin Amer- ica."Branch begins packing up the news- clips. "I'm paranoid as hell about this plane," he says. "We're supposed to get a call at the hotel around midnight That gives us an hour to get through customs and get settled. I want to hustle away from these guys and make sure we're on time."### A Greeting from RómuloRothchild and Inclán notice a huddle of shady five-footers lurking in a dark corner beside the airport entrance. They must be a Venezuelan tour group, Rothchild thinks, waiting for a bargain Aight out of the country. I'm not going to get paranoid about everything I see. But the group stares at the passen- gers; their suits blend so well into the shadows that all you see are their mir- ror sunglasses. They look like a dis- play of Foster Grants at the back of an unlighted drugstore.They stop looking only when the Miami assistant state's attorneya and cops; the same ones who have been bugging Branch on the plane, go over and give some of the men in the shad- ows warm, Latin embraces. Inclán thinks it is a meeting between the Mi- ami Jaw-enforcement contingent and the Venezuelan secret police. She catches up in the line and says she has recognized one of the people in the po lice huddle as Ricardo Morales, the mysterious Cuban who is supposed to be Branch's fallback contact in Caracas, Branch is stunned. First he is read ing clips about Cubans and cops, and the Cubans and cops start fingering him on the airplane. Now Morales."Give me your papers and follow me!" a voice booms suddenly. It bois longs to a man in a turtleneck sweater and leather jacket. A flunky moves next to each reporter in the line. There is nothing to do but hand over the pass ports and follow.Turtleneck and his gavig herd the re- porters ers into a special room at the back of the airport. He disappears into an- other office, leaving them alone with an old man seated behind a desk. Thero is furious typing coming from the adja- cent roors into which Turtienerk has disappeared. Ilis Munkies keep running back and forth from one room to the other.In about ten minutes, Turtleneck ro turns aral hands each of the reporters a *citación*-in triphrate. Rothchuid, trans- lating for Branch, doesn't remember the legal definition of the word *cita- ción*. He dors, however, recognize a word farther down in the document- *edreel*. *Carcel* means jail The reporters are being sammoned to attend some kind of inerting in a sinister-sounding room, D-034, in a building somewhere in Caracas at nine a.m. the following day. The letterhead belongs to DISIP.Turtleneck kerps saying it is all rou- tine-just sign the *citación* and every- body can get a good night's sleep. While Rothchild struggles to understand the fine print, Inclán tells him she thinks it might be a mistake to acknowledge the *stimmons*. It might conceivably be con- strued as an admission of something, and the reporters don't know what it is for. Inclán decides to try an offensive to get information. She whips out her notebook as if to write a trafic ticket and asks Türtleneck what his name is. He doesn't answer. She repeats the question and finally he mumbles, "In- spector Romulo,""That's all there is to it?""Yeah. Just Rómulo.""Who ordered you to do this?""I don't know. I can't say. It's just a procedure.""Why is this happening to us?""It is so because it is so."Inclán writes that down.Branch, whose rudimentary knowl. edge of Spanish often led him to offend the Cuban community in Miami-where he would mean to say "what a grand wedding this is" and end up saying "what tremendous tits you have"-is getting a headache trying to keep up with the conversation. "Isn't there somebody who speaks English here?" he keeps asking."That's all right," says Rothchild. "The guy isn't saying a damn thing in Spanish, either." Inclán agrees.The reporters get nowhere. Police keep circling, and an evasive Rómulo keeps cracking his knuckles, pacing back and forth between rooms, thrust ing pens into the reporters' harids like a door-to-door salesman pushing maga zine subscriptions. Inclán asks him if they will go to jail for not signing. Romulo says, "No, you won't go to jail for that, and I don't care what you do. My orders were to hand you this *ci-* *tación*, and that I have done. The rest entirely up to you."Inclán decides to accept the summons but not to sign it, based on Rómulo's assertion that it remains in force no matter what. Branch and Rothebild go along after a brief huddle. Romulo is definitely peeved. He hands each of them a summons in an envelope and tells them to leave."I don't understand how they picked us out," says Inclán in the cab. "Es- pecially you, John. You're not even coming as a reporter. They couldn't have gotten us off our documents." The logical explanation is that some one on the plans tipped off the Vene- zuelans. But why?Branch thrushes around in his spy world for answers. Nothing seems to fit. The three of then theorize all the way to the hotel, and they can only nettle, like Alexander Haig, on a sinis- ter force, Branch is still sure that the *summens* will be lifted as soon as he can talk te his friendly contacts in Venezuela. Rothchild keeps looking out the window for a tail.### A Visit to a Small HotelThe taxi drops them off at the Anauco Hilton, where Inclin is staying. Branch offers to carry Inclin's bags. The lobby, amazingly, is filled with the same DISIP lu.kers; they have managed to move their whole scene intact. They are leaning against walls and sitting on the couches. Branch looks toward the elevator in time to see the Miami attorneys and cops scurrying to get in- side, frantically pushing buttons to get the door to close. They are as jittery about seeing the reporters as the re- porters are about seeing the Venezue lan goons. And the most jittery of all, in the raiddle of the elevator, is Ricar- do Morales himself. Morales is staring at the ceiling, trying to avoid eye con- tact, and Branch has the feeling that Morales is scared. It is the first time he has seen fear on the face of this hardened veteran of Congo wars and Castro plots and murders. Seeing Morales scared makes Branch scared. He warns Inclán not to go anywhere or do anything-just to call him when he arrives at his hotel, the Avila.Back in a taxi Branch is going through another run of Cuban polities. "I don't know, John," he says. "Maybe Morales is behind all this, but I can't figure out why he's doing it. He sure looked as if he's in trouble. He could have been making some secret deal with those cops. Something he knows about one of those bombings in Miami. Morales might not know that we were on the flight by accident. Ile might think we were tailing the cops."Rothchild is trying not to listen. The only sure contact he thought Branch had has suddenly turned into a poten- tial enemy. Rothchild is petrified by the thought that Branch has gotten in over his head. "I think we are in more trouble," he says, "Look behind you."This time there is a tail The other car is right on their bumper as they wind up the back streets of Caracas. "They aren't even pretending not to be following," Rothchild says. "I don't think that's a good sign."Branch, overwhelmed, keeps looking at the car behind them. "You know," he says with a smile, "this is the first time I've ever been tailed." Rothchill feels as if he is being cranked through the roller of Graham Greene's type writer.They reach the Hotel Avila, a Casa- blanca-type place at the top of a hill. It seems deserted unul Rothchild looks. down from a balcony near their room.There are prople pulling into the drive way in smail cars, and they have *sanimed*