Free The Assignment by Per Wahlöö Page A

happened during half a working day.
    He picked up the telephone and called Captain Behounek.
    There was a short wait before the Chief of Police came on the line.
    “How was last night?”
    “Absolutely calm.”
    “And out in the country?”
    “Calm.”
    “I heard cries and shots near the northern entrance when I was going home last night.”
    “I’ll investigate the matter. Probably nothing very serious.”
    There was a silence. Manuel was about to put a badly phrased question but stopped himself. He thought for a moment and said: “Have you, with your experience here, any views as to what measures I should take first?”
    “None at all.”
    “What do you mean by none at all?”
    “Just what I say. Wait.”
    “You’ll keep me informed if anything happens, won’t you?”
    “Of course.”
    He put down the receiver and rang for his assistant. The young man came at once.
    “Have you had a look at those reports?”
    “Yes, but it’ll take quite a while. I’ve almost forgotten what one does when one works.”
    “It doesn’t matter. I wanted to ask you one or two otherthings. Do you know where the members of the reform committee and the legal experts are?”
    “The whole committee went back to the capital when the troubles were at their worst a month ago. About the same time as General Larrinaga was appointed. They’re working there now, I suppose. The only people left here are a group of surveyors. They’re living at the hotel.”
    “Which hotel?”
    “There’s only one. Called the Universal. I’m living there myself now—since yesterday.”
    The last remark sounded bitter.
    “Are they there now, do you think?”
    “They were there yesterday.”
    “Another thing. Do you know if General Larrinaga has any relations in the town?”
    “Yes. His widow lives here and so does his daughter. The girl who teaches at the Catholic school.”
    “Thanks very much. You can go.”
    Manuel Ortega got his hat. On the way he said to López: “I’m going out for a while.”
    He came out into the blazing heat of midday. There was no one to be seen in the square apart from the two guards at the entrance. Everything was blinding white, the sunlight and the buildings and the cobblestones. He thought: I must get a pair of sunglasses if I don’t want to lose my sight.
    On the main street he passed a shop that sold optical and medical goods. He looked into the window for a while and saw López’s reflection as he stood on the other side of the street.
    He went in and a few seconds later López was there, red-faced and panting. The curtains rustled and a woman came out into the shop. She showed him several pairs of sunglasses. He chose one, and just as he was about to pay, the woman said: “I know who you are. If I didn’t have to depend on you to help us against the mob, I wouldn’t sell you a corn plaster. Not for all the gold in the world.”
    When they came out onto the street again, López said reproachfully: “You mustn’t do things like that. If you want to go in somewhere you must give me a sign first so that I can catch up to you.”
    There was hardly anyone on the streets; all he could see were a couple of police jeeps and a few cars, gray with dust.
    In the lobby of the hotel a porter was fast asleep with a newspaper spread over his face. When he woke and stood up, Manuel saw that he was wearing a cartridge belt and an old American revolver in a holster on his right hip.
    The chief surveyor, whose name was Ramirez, was in the hotel lounge playing billiards with two other men. He looked astonished as he put his cue to one side and went out into the lobby.
    “But why … why didn’t you call me? Perhaps I should have come on my own, but I didn’t think of it.”
    “I need to get about myself sometimes too. Well, how many men have you got here?”
    “Twenty now. We were twenty-eight to start with.”
    “Where are they at this moment?”
    “Here at the hotel.”
    The man seemed surprised.
    “Why