Free Thefts of Nick Velvet by Edward D. Hoch Page A

could understand one man, an absolute ruler, getting the crazy idea to steal a baseball team and bring it here, overriding the objections of his advisers. But this is different. Your father told me it was Asignar’s idea. And yet Asignar apparently isn’t even a baseball fan. At least he’s nowhere in sight today.”
    “You worry needlessly,” she assured him. “After all, the Beavers are happy with their new fame. My father is happy. You should be happy with the money you were paid. Why look for trouble?”
    “Because I brought them here. If anything happens, I’ll feel responsible.”
    That night Nick dined with Maria at Jabali’s most expensive restaurant. On the way home he noticed an anti-Tras slogan chalked in Spanish on the side of a building. Maria seemed to miss seeing it, and he did not call it to her attention.
    Nick had arranged to escort Maria to the baseball game the following day, since her father would be busy on the field during the opening ceremonies of the pageant. When he called for her at the presidential palace just after noon, he still carried the pistol he’d used to hijack the plane. He wondered why he hadn’t left it in his room, yet knew somehow that it belonged with him, even at a baseball game.
    “There’s already a lot of traffic,” he told Maria. “I didn’t know there were so many people on the island.”
    “It is a great day for them.”
    “Few foreigners, though.”
    “My father does not encourage them. He has the airport watched. Even the number of newsmen is limited.”
    “So I noticed.” They were walking through the downstairs rooms toward the door when Nick paused to examine the large oil painting over a massive stone fireplace. It was of a handsome bearded man in military uniform. “Who’s this?” he asked.
    “Palidez, our liberator. Father mentioned him at dinner the other night. Founder of our country, author of our constitution, builder of this house—”
    Nick studied the painting more closely. “He’s missing a finger.”
    “Lost in the Revolution. It became a sort of symbol. He died in 1920, rich and famous—and loved by his people.”
    One of the servants had turned on the radio and they could hear the sounds of the stadium ceremonies. “They’re starting without us,” Nick said. “We’d better hurry.”
    “I’m ready.”
    He led her out to the official car, where a dark-skinned driver waited by the open door. “Too bad all your servants can’t come.”
    “Most of them went, but the house requires so much work—you can imagine, with nine rooms on each floor.”
    Nick froze with his hand on the car door. “My Spanish is rusty,” he said, hardly breathing. “Your father said this place is called the Casa Nueve —”
    Maria chuckled. “I started to correct you the other night. New House would be Casa Nuevo . The presidential palace is called Casa Nueve , which means—”
    “Nine House! Nine rooms on each floor! And nine was the word Palidez lived by!” From the car radio came the sounds of the pageant ceremonies, the rolling of drums, the blowing of bugles. “Come on! We’ve got to get there fast!”
    “But why?”
    “Don’t ask questions. What I need are answers and you can give them to me.” The car pulled away from the palace grounds and headed toward the stadium. “Jorge Asignar is up to something and it’s no good.”
    “Asignar? I don’t understand.”
    Nick Velvet leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, trying to see it all. “The thing was Asignar’s idea from the start. At the airport Monday he was surprised to see nineteen players with manager and coaches and all. He didn’t need them. He only needed nine men—a baseball team. Nine men who could enter the country without attracting your father’s suspicions, without being noticed by his airport guards.”
    “Nine men—”
    “Don’t you see, Maria? This whole country is built on the mystical number nine. There are nines every where—the President and eight