"It's about Subcomandante Verapaz," said Remo.
"You are too late," the commander said distractedly. "He is defunct."
"Dead?"
"That is what I have heard. But it is only an unsubstantiated rumor. Go away now. I have no time for gringo journalistas."
"In that case, I demand to see the body. Inquiring minds want to see it all."
"You cannot see the body because there is no body," the commander hissed. "Officially."
Remo came around the desk and relieved the commander of his telephones, his disorganized papers and his ability to rise from the chair of his own volition by squeezing his spine.
"Now, you listen very carefully," Remo said. "I've had a long day. I've traveled a long way, eaten expensive food and been soaked by every Mexican whose path I crossed. Not counting the ones who tried to shoot me."
"I understand."
"Good. I'm looking for Subcomandante Verapaz. I don't care if he's alive or dead. I just want to find him. Once I find him I can go home. Comprendo?"
"Comprende. The proper tense is comprende. "
"Thank you for the Spanish-grammar lesson. But stay with me here. I want to go home very badly. In the next hour if possible. So if you'll kindly point me in the right direction, I won't place you under cardiac arrest."
"Cardiac-?"
"Also known as commotio cordis. "
"Como-?"
"Don't bother. You'll only get tongue-tied like everybody else."
The commander spread his helpless hands. "I cannot point you to the body, senor. I am most sorry. Colonel Primitivo took this Verapaz from my hands and out into the jungle for summary execution."
"He come back?"
The commander looked helpless. "How can he come back if he is dead?" he asked plaintively.
"I meant the colonel, not the subcomandante. "
"Ah, I understand. No, the colonel did not come back. He is not-how you say?-attached to Chiapas Barracks, which this is. He has done his duty, now he is gone forever, no one being the wiser."
"Except you and me," Remo corrected.
"It is a military secret, senor. I hope you will keep it."
"Cross my heart and hope to spit, as the Beaver used to say."
"Que?"
"Never mind. Look, if Verapaz is dead, what's all the commotion?"
"We go to battle the monster."
"What monster?"
"The monster on the TV, senor. "
Remo followed the commander's pointing finger.
In a far corner of the room sat a TV set. It was on. The sound was off.
On the screen was a thirty-foot-tall stone monster striding through the night. Helicopter searchlights played over it. It was the same monster movie that had been playing in Chi Zotz hours before.
Remo thought the special effects were pretty good, but the camera work and editing were terrible.
"You going to fight that?"
"Si. It is a terrible emeryency up in Oaxaca. All my forces have been called up."
"Good. You have a nice monster fight. I just have one last question."
"What is that?"
"Where did the colonel take the body?"
"Into the jungle. But I would not go into there."
"Why not?"
"Because this is Maya country and it is after dark."
"After dark Kamazotz comes out."
"Kamazotz?"
"Yes. Kamazotz is the bat god of the Maya." The commander shook his head slowly. "Terrible. He will drain your blood and do other unpleasant things to you.
"Thanks for the warning. I'll take my chances."
"You are very welcome, senor. But there is one thing more I ask of you."
"What's that?"
"Could you undo the thing that you did to my neck? I would like to use my legs to join my men to fight the monster."
"Oh, sorry," said Remo, returning to release the cervical manipulation that had disabled the commander's vertebrae.