"This is Comandante Odio. From the Mexican DFS. We have done business before."
"Of course. How may I be of service to you, comandante?"
"Ah," said the smiling voice. "You are mistaken. It is how I may be of service to you."
"Go on. I am listening."
"Your hatred of the American presidente is not unknown to me. I thought you might be interested in knowing that Air Force One crashed in the Sierra Madres last night."
"Ah!" said El Padrino with only a slight lifting of his voice. "This interests me. Pray, go on."
"The Americans have secured the crash site. They believe their presidente is dead."
"Muy malo," chuckled EI Padrino.
"They cannot find the body."
"Muy triste," EI Padrino said with mock sadness.
"But I happen to know that the President is very much alive."
El Padrino snapped to attention. "Que? How you know this? Tell me!"
"He has been taken to Mexico City, apparently by the Vice-President, his subordinate. I do not understand it myself, but even now there is a coup under way in Washington."
"A coup?"
"Engineered by the Vice-President, Padrino."
"Preposterous."
"I have this on excellent authority. Impeccable authority. "
"What does the Vice-President intend to do with the President?"
"I do not know, Padrino."
"I would like to know. And I would pay exceedingly well the man who brings me such information-or proof that the presidente is dead. Comprende?
"I will contact you directly that I have good news for you, Padrino," Comandante Oscar Odio said briskly. "Adios."
''Vaya con Dios," said EI Padrino, replacing the receiver. He snapped his fingers twice and a hulking bodyguard stepped in from the next room.
"Polio," he commanded. "Gather your best pistoleros. You are going to Mexico City. There is someone I would like you to kill there."
"Si, Padrino."
Chapter 13
It was the most miserable ride in the President's memory.
Going down in flames in the South Pacific during World War II had been no moonlight cruise, to be sure. But except for some bad moments bobbing in the water, it had been over quick.
The train ride through the brown desolation of rural Mexico seemed to go on forever, and nothing he said to the Vice-President, no plea, no veiled threat, could persuade him to enter the caboose.
"But I'm the President," he muttered, his teeth rattling like castanets. The springs on the caboose were either old or sprung. If it even had springs. "This is a friendly country, real friendly. People down here know my face. Hell, I got grandchildren who are Mexican."
The Vice-President turned his perpetually wounded eyes on him like blue lasers. "My prime directive is survival. Entering the train is not conducive to our survival. Must survive. Must ensure your survival. Your survival will ensure my survival. My survival will guarantee your survival. Our survival-"
"I getcha," chattered the President. The poor guy was still rattled. He'd been going on and on about survival like a tape-message loop. "But if I don't have some water soon, I don't know if I'm gonna survive. "
That got a reaction. "Wait here. I will get water."
And the Vice-President came to his feet like his knees had sprung. He clambered up an attached ladder to the caboose roof and disappeared. Over the clickety-clack of the rails, the President heard his feet clump away heavily.
"Amazing!" the President said, his newfound awe of his Vice-President swelling. "When this is over, I'm gonna put that guy up for a Congressional Medal of Honor. And screw those jerks who called him a draft dodger."
The President huddled at the metal railing of the caboose platform. He clung to it with one hand, fearful of falling off. It was warm. Not hot. The sun was high and eye-stingingly bright, but he could stand it. The wind cut through his poplin windbreaker relentlessly.
The Vice-President came down the caboose carrying a plastic cup. He offered it, saying, " I found this. "
"Thanks," the President said, taking quick gulps. The water tasted good. "Want some?"
"No. I do not need water."
"Great," said the President, who really hadn't wanted to share in the first place. He drained the cup.
"Damn! That was good. Wish I had more."
"I will provide more water," the Vice-President said. "Water is important for your survival."
"No, no," the President said quickly. "Stay put. No sense risking your neck again running along the train top."
" I will not need to do that. I now carry a reserve supply."
The Vice-President took the plastic glass, and turning his back on the President, did something with it. The President's brow wrinkled at the sound of gurgling water. He sneaked a look. The Vice-President held one hand over the glass. He thought he saw water dribbling off the man's fingertips.
The glass came back into his hand, and the President took a tentative sip. He made a face.
"Tastes oily," he said.
"It will not harm you. Nothing will harm you while I am with you. It is important that you know that."
"Know it?" the President said, draining the glass in quick gulps. "I'm gonna see that you get the best thank-you note ever written. The very best. What do you think of that?"
"The job of protecting you is a job," the Vice-President said blankly.