Free Queen Victoria's Revenge by Harry Harrison

away. Tony stopped struggling at the now familiar sight of guns and sighed. His newfound popularity for armed villains was something he could just as well do without.
    â€œYou are prepared to co-operate with us?” the man behind him said, speaking what Tony was beginning to recognize all too clearly as Cuban Spanish. He turned about to face his questioner, a sturdy, dark-haired man of middle years, firm-jawed and hawknosed, wearing a black eye patch. Tony recognized him from newspaper pictures.
    â€œThe Cuban Moshe Dayan?”
    â€œI prefer my own name, Colonel Jaime Juarez-Sedoño. The co-operation?”
    â€œYou’re holding the gun, Colonel.”
    â€œI prefer a little more enthusiasm and involvement than that. Do you have your room key with you?”
    â€œYes, in my pocket—all right.” He dropped it into the waiting palm and it was passed to the man beside the driver in the front seat. The car stopped and he got out. The car then went on, moving slowly down dark streets, the ready guns discouraging Tony from any attempt at escape.
    â€œYou will tell me what happened to the money.”
    â€œThere seems to be a great deal of interest in that. It was taken by your associate Angus Macpherson and his henchman from the airfield. He was helped by a number of other thugs, looked like six at least, who jumped in when the car was stopped.”
    â€œWould you recognize these men again?”
    â€œAngus and his buddy, sure, but Jorge here could do that as well as I could. As to the others—I might be able to. I had a good close look at a couple of them.”
    â€œThen I will need your co-operation to do just that. And I am guaranteeing that co-operation.” The car stopped and the recently departed skyjacker climbed back in. Grinning broadly, he passed a sheaf of rustling bills to the colonel. They all, except Tony, smiled as well at this.
    â€œVery good,” the colonel said. “This is our little insurance of your co-operation. Do you recognize these?” These were a bundle of hundred dollar bills in a leather wallet that he revealed briefly, then returned to his inner jacket pocket.
    â€œOne guess? The skyjacked money Jorge took from the plane?”
    â€œPrecisely. A tiny part of the whole, which we will have back. Using your name and room number as identification, our compatriot has changed one of these bills in your hotel. It will soon be discovered that they are hot. You will be fingered—for does not one Latin look like any other to these pale Anglos?”
    â€œI’m an Indian. An Apache.”
    â€œThey cannot tell the difference. The police will seek you. Aid us in recovering the money and we will tell them what we did.”
    â€œHonestly, that is the most simple-minded plan I ever heard of. No one will ever think for a moment I’m really involved…” The gun ground deep into the sore gun-grinding spot in his side. “But I’ll help you for other reasons. I’m convinced.”
    He slumped into the seat in black despair, watching the traffic whir by, firmly and strong headedly, all going in the wrong direction.
    When the car stopped next it was before a conservatively elegant house nestled into a tree-rich square. Colonel Juarez-Sedoño led the way and Tony was easily persuaded to follow. A liveried butler bowed them in and opened the door of a book-lined study for them. The colonel waved Tony to one leather armchair, then took another for himself. The butler brought a dusty bottle and two balloon glasses before leaving in silence and closing the doors.
    â€œYou see,” the colonel said, examining the bottle closely with his good eye, “I treat you as a friend, keep nothing from you, welcome you into my home. And ask very little in return.”
    â€œYou are asking a lot, Colonel, since I am a representative of the United States Government. It is my duty to report everything that occurs.”
    â€œAnd so