Windmills of the Gods (5 page)

The following evening, Harry Lantz returned to the Pilar at eleven o’clock, watching the bar gradually fill up. As midnight approached, he found himself getting more and more nervous. What if she did not show up? What if it was the wrong Neusa Muñez?

Lantz watched as a group of giggling young women came into the bar. They joined some men at a table.
She’s got to
show up,
Lantz thought.
If she doesn’t, I can kiss the fifty grand good-bye.

He wondered what she looked like. She had to be a stunner. He was authorized to offer her boyfriend, Angel, a cool two million dollars to assassinate someone, so Angel was probably up to his ass in millions. He would be well able to afford a beautiful young mistress. Hell, he could probably afford a dozen of them. This Neusa had to be an actress or model.
Who knows, maybe I can have a little fun with her before I leave town. Nothing like combining business and pleasure,
Harry Lantz thought happily.

The door opened and Lantz looked up expectantly. A woman was walking in alone. She was middle-aged and unattractive, with a fat, bloated body and huge, pendulous breasts that swayed as she walked. Her face was pockmarked, and she had dyed blond hair, but her dark complexion indicated
mestizo
blood inherited from an Indian ancestor who had been bedded by a Spaniard. She was dressed in an ill-fitting skirt and sweater meant for a much younger woman.
A hooker down on her luck,
Lantz decided.
But who the hell would want to fuck her?

The woman looked around the bar with vacant, listless eyes. She nodded vaguely to several people and then pushed her way through the crowd. She walked up to the bar.

“Wanna buy me a drink?” She had a heavy Spanish accent, and up close she was even more unattractive.

She looks like a fat, unmilked cow,
Lantz thought.
And she’s drunk.
“Get lost, sister.”

“Esteban say you are lookin’ for me, no?”

He stared at her. “Who?”

“Esteban. The bartender.”

Harry Lantz still could not accept it. “He must have made a mistake. I’m looking for Neusa Muñez.”

“Sí. Yo soy Neusa Muñez.”

But the wrong one,
Harry Lantz thought.
Shit!
“Are you Angel’s friend?”

She smiled drunkenly.
“Sí.”

Harry Lantz recovered swiftly. “Well, well.” He forced a smile. “Can we go to a corner table and talk?”

She nodded indifferently. “Ess okay.”

They fought their way across the smoky bar, and when they were seated, Harry Lantz said, “I’d like to talk about—”

“You buy me a rum,
sí
?”

Lantz nodded. “Sure thing.”

A waiter appeared, wearing a filthy apron, and Lantz said, “One rum and a Scotch and soda.”

Muñez said, “Make mine a double, huh?’”

When the waiter left, Lantz turned to the woman seated beside him. “I want to meet with Angel.”

She studied him with her dull, watery eyes. “Wha’ for?”

Lantz lowered his voice. “I have a little present for him.”

“¿Sí?
What kin’ a presen’?”

“Two million dollars.” Their drinks arrived. Harry Lantz raised his glass and said, “Cheers.”

“Yeah.” She downed her drink in one gulp. “Wha’ for you wanna give Angel two million dollars?”

“That’s something I’ll have to discuss with him in person.”

“Tha’s not possible. Angel, he don’ talk to nobody.”

“Lady, for two million dollars—”

“Kin I have ‘nother rum? A double, huh?”

My God, she already looks like she’s about to pass out.
“Sure.” Lantz summoned the waiter and ordered the drink. “Have you known Angel a long time?” He made his tone casual.

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

“He must be an interesting man.”

Her vacant eyes were fixed on a spot on the table in front of her.

Jesus!
Harry Lantz thought.
It’s like trying to have a conversation with a fucking wall.

Her drink arrived, and she finished it in one long swallow.

She has the body of a cow and the manners of a pig.
“How soon can I talk to Angel?”

Neusa Muñez struggled to her feet. “I tol’ you, he don’ talk to nobody. Adios.”

Harry Lantz was filled with a sudden panic. “Hey! Wait a minute! Don’t go.”

She stopped and looked down at him with bleary eyes. “What you wan’?”

“Sit down,” Lantz said slowly, “and I’ll tell you what I want.”

She sat down heavily. “I need a rum, huh?”

Harry Lantz was baffled.
What the fuck kind of man is this Angel? His mistress is not only the ugliest broad in all of South America, but she’s a lush.

Lantz did not like dealing with drunks. They were too unreliable. On the other hand, he hated the thought of losing his fifty-thousand-dollar commission. He watched as Muñez gulped her drink. He wondered how many she had had before coming to meet him.

Lantz smiled and said reasonably, “Neusa, if I can’t talk to Angel, how can I do business with him?”

“Ess simple. You tell me what you wan’. I tell Angel. If he say
si
, I tell you
si.
If he say
no
, I tell you
no.
”

Harry Lantz distrusted using her as a go-between, but he had no choice. “You’ve heard of Marin Groza.”

“No.”

Of course she hadn’t.
Because it wasn’t the name of a rum. This stupid bitch was going to get the message all wrong and screw up the deal for him.

“I need a drink, huh?”

He patted her fat hand. “Certainly.” He ordered another double rum. “Angel will know who Groza is. You just say Marin Groza. He’ll know.”

“Yeah? Then wha’?”

She was even stupider than she looked. What the fuck did
she think Angel was supposed to do for two million dollars? Kiss the guy?
Harry Lantz said carefully, “The people who sent me want him blown away.”

She blinked. “Whas ‘blown away’?”

Christ!
“Killed.”

“Oh.” She nodded indifferently. “I’ll ass’ Angel.” Her voice was beginning to slur even more. “Wha’ you say the man’s name is?”

He wanted to shake her. “Groza. Marin Groza.”

“Yeah. My baby’s outa town. I’ll call him tonight an’ meet you here tomorrow. Kin I have ‘nother rum?”

Neusa Muñez was turning out to be a nightmare.

The following evening, Harry Lantz sat at the same table in the bar from midnight until four in the morning, when the bar closed. Muñez did not appear.

“Do you know where she lives?” Lantz asked the bartender.

The bartender looked at him with innocent eyes.
“¿Quién sabe?”

The bitch had fouled everything up. How could a man who was supposed to be as smart as Angel get hooked up with such a rum dummy? Harry Lantz prided himself on being a pro. He was too smart to walk into a deal like this without first checking it out. He had cautiously asked around, and the information that impressed him most was that the Israelis had put a price of a million dollars on Angel’s head. A million bucks would buy a lifetime worth of booze and young hookers. Well, he could forget about that and he could forget about his fifty thousand. His only link to Angel had been broken. He would have to call The Man and tell him he had failed.

I won’t call him yet,
Harry Lantz decided.
Maybe she’ll come back here. Maybe the other bars will run out of rum. Maybe I should have had my ass kicked for saying yes to this fucking assignment.

The following night at eleven o’clock, Harry Lantz was seated at the same table in the Pilar, intermittently chewing peanuts and his fingernails. At two
A.M.
he saw Neusa Muñez stumble in the door, and Harry’s heart soared. He watched as she made her way over to his table.

“Hi,” she mumbled, and slumped into a chair.

“What happened to you?” Harry demanded. It was all he could do to control his anger.

She blinked. “Huh?”

“You were supposed to meet me here last night.”

“Yeah?”

“We made a date, Neusa.”

“Oh. I went to a movie with a girlfrien’. There’s this new movie, see? Ess ‘bout this man who falls in love with this fuckin’ nun an’—”

Lantz was so frustrated he could have wept.
What could Angel possibly see in this dumb, drunken bitch? She must
have a golden pussy,
Lantz decided. “Neusa—did you remember to talk to Angel?”

She looked at him vacantly, trying to understand the question. “Angel?
Sí.
Kin I have a drink, huh?”

He ordered a double rum for her and a double Scotch for himself. He needed it desperately. “What did Angel say, Neusa?”

“Angel? Oh, he say yeah. Ess okay.”

Harry Lantz felt a surge of relief. “That’s wonderful!” He no longer gave a damn about his messenger-boy mission. He had thought of a better idea. This drunken bitch was going to lead him to Angel. One million dollars reward money.

He watched her slop down her drink, spilling some of it down her already soiled blouse. “What else did Angel say?”

Her brow knit in concentration. “Angel, he say he wanna know who your people are.”

Lantz gave her a winning smile. “You tell him that’s confidential, Neusa. I can’t give him that information.”

She nodded, indifferent. “Then Angel say to tell you to fuck off. Kin I have a rum ‘fore I go?”

Harry Lantz’s mind started working at top speed. If she left, he was sure he would never see her again. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Neusa. I’ll telephone the people I’m working for, and if they give me permission, I’ll give you a name. Okay?”

She shrugged. “I don’ care.”

“No,” Lantz explained patiently, “but Angel does. So you tell him I’ll have an answer for him by tomorrow. Is there someplace I can reach you?”

“I guess so.”

He was making progress. “Where?”

“Here.”

Her drink arrived, and he watched her gulp it down like an animal.

Lantz wanted to kill her.

Lantz made the telephone call collect, so it could not be traced, from a public-telephone booth on Calvo Street. It had taken him one hour to get through.

“No,” the Controller said. “I told you that no names are to be mentioned.”

“Yes, sir. But there’s a problem. Neusa Muñez, Angel’s mistress, says he’s willing to make a deal, but he won’t move without knowing who he’s dealing with. Naturally, I told her I had to check it out with you first.”

“What is this woman like?”

The Controller was not a man to play games with. “She’s fat and ugly and stupid, sir.”

“It’s much too dangerous for my name to be used.”

Harry Lantz could feel the deal slipping away from him. “Yes, sir,” he said earnestly. “I understand. The only thing is, sir, Angel’s reputation is based on his being able to keep his mouth shut. If he ever started talking, he wouldn’t last five minutes in his business.”

There was a long silence. “You have a point.” There was another silence, even longer. “Very well. You may give Angel my name. But he is never to divulge it, and never to contact me directly. He’ll work only through you.”

Harry Lantz could have danced. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him. Thank you, sir.” He hung up, a big grin on his face. He was going to collect the fifty thousand dollars.

And then the million-dollar reward.

When Harry Lantz met Neusa Muñez late that evening, he immediately ordered a double rum for her and said, happily, “Everything’s set. I got permission.”

She looked at him indifferently. “Yeah?”

He told her the name of his employer. It was a household word, and he expected her to be impressed.

She shrugged. “Never hearda him.”

“Neusa, the people I work for want this done as quickly as possible. Marin Groza is hiding out in a villa in Neuilly, and—”

“Where?”

God Almighty!
He was trying to communicate with a drunken moron. He said patiently, “It’s a little town outside of Paris. Angel will know.”

“I need ‘nother drink.”

An hour later, Neusa was still drinking. and this time Harry Lantz was encouraging her.
Not that she needs much encouragement,
Lantz thought.
When she’s drunk enough, she’s going to lead me to her boyfriend. The rest will be easy.

He looked over at Neusa Muñez staring filmy-eyed into her drink.

It shouldn’t be hard to catch Angel. He may be tough, but he can’t be very bright.
“When is Angel coming back to town?”

She focused her watery eyes on him. “Nex’ week.”

Harry Lantz took her hand and stroked it. “Why don’t you and I go back to your place?” he asked softly.

“Okay.”

He was in.

Neusa Muñez lived in a shabby two-room apartment in the Belgrano district of Buenos Aires. The apartment was messy and unkempt, like its tenant. When they walked through the door, Neusa made straight for the little bar in the corner. She was unsteady on her feet.

“How ‘bout a drink?”

“Not for me,” Lantz said. “You go ahead.” He watched as she poured out a drink and downed it.
She’s the most ugly, repulsive bitch I’ve ever met,
he thought,
but the million dollars is going to be beautiful.

He looked around the apartment. There were some books piled on a coffee table. He picked them up, one by one, hoping
to get an insight into Angel’s mind. The titles surprised him:
Gabriela, Clove & Cinnamon,
by Jorge Amado;
Fire from the Mountain,
by Omar Cabezas;
One Hundred Years of Solitude,
by Gabriel García Marquez;
At Night the Cats,
by Antonio Cisneros. So Angel was an intellectual. The books did not fit with the apartment or the woman.

Lantz walked over to her and put his arms around her huge, flabby waist. “You’re damned cute, do you know that?” He reached up and stroked her breasts. They were the size of watermelons. Lantz hated big-breasted women. “You’ve got a really great body.”

“Huh?” Her eyes were glazed.

Lantz’s arms moved down and stroked her fat thighs through the thin cotton dress she wore. “How does that feel?” he whispered.

“Wha’?”

He was getting nowhere. He had to think of an approach that would get this amazon into bed. But he knew he had to make his move carefully. If he offended her, she might go back and report him to Angel, and that would be the end of the deal. He could try to sweet-talk her, but she was too drunk to know what he was saying.

As Lantz was desperately trying to think of a clever gambit, Neusa mumbled, “Wanna fuck?”

He grinned in relief. “That’s a great idea, baby.”

“Come on ‘n the bedroom.”

She was stumbling as Lantz followed her into the small bedroom. It contained one closet with the door ajar, a large unmade bed, two chairs, and a bureau with a cracked mirror above it. It was the closet that caught Harry Lantz’s attention. In it he glimpsed a row of men’s suits hanging on a rack.

Neusa was at the side of the bed, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Under ordinary circumstances, Harry Lantz would have been at her side, undressing her, caressing her body and murmuring exciting indecencies into her ear.
But the sight of Muñez sickened him. He stood there watching as her skirt dropped to the floor. She was wearing nothing under it. Naked, she was uglier than when dressed. Her huge breasts sagged, and her protruding stomach shook like jelly as she moved. Her fat thighs were a mass of cellulite.
She’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen,
Lantz thought.
Think positively,
Lantz told himself.
This will be over in a few minutes. The million bucks will last forever.

Slowly, he forced himself to get undressed. She was propped up in bed like a leviathan, waiting for him, and he crawled in beside her.

“What do you like?” he asked.

“Huh? Choc’late. I like choc’late.”

She was drunker than he had thought.
That’s good. It will make things easier.
He began to caress her flabby, fish-white body. “You’re a very pretty woman, hon. You know that?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you a lot, Neusa.” His hands moved down toward the hairy mound between her fat legs, and he began to make small, titillating circles. “I’ll bet you live an exciting life.”

“Huh?”

“I mean—being Angel’s girl friend. That must be really interesting. Tell me, baby, what’s Angel like?”

There was a silence, and he wondered if Neusa had fallen asleep. He inserted his fingers in the soft, damp cleft between her legs, and felt her stir.

“Don’t go to sleep, sweetheart. Not yet. What kind of man is Angel? Is he handsome?”

“Rich. Angel, he’s rich.”

Lantz’s hand continued its work. “Is he good to you?”

“Yeah. Angel’s good t’ me.”

“I’m going to be good to you too, baby.” His voice was soft. His problem was that everything was soft. What he needed was a million-dollar erection. He started thinking about the Dolly sisters and some of the things they had done to him. He visualized them working on his naked body with
their tongues and fingers and nipples, and his penis began to grow hard. He quickly rolled over on top of Neusa and inserted himself into her.
God, it’s like sticking it in a fucking pudding,
Harry Lantz thought. “Does that feel good?”

“Ess okay, I guess.”

He could have strangled her. There were dozens of beautiful women around the world who were thrilled by his lovemaking, and this fat bitch was saying,
Ess okay, I guess.

He began moving his hips back and forth. “Tell me about Angel. Who are his friends?”

Her voice was drowsy. “Angel got no frens. I’m his fren.”

“Of course you are, babe. Does Angel live here with you, or does he have his own place?”

Neusa closed her eyes. “Hey, I’m sleepy. When you gonna come?”

Never,
he thought.
Not with this cow.
“I already came,” Lantz lied.

“Then le’s go to sleep.”

He rolled off her and lay at her side, fuming.
Why couldn’t Angel have had a normal mistress? Someone young and beautiful and hot-blooded.
Then he would have had no trouble getting the information he needed. But this stupid bitch—! Still…there were other ways.

Lantz lay there quietly for a long time, until he was certain Neusa was asleep. Then he carefully arose from the bed and padded over to the closet. He switched the closet light on and closed the door so the light would not awaken the snoring behemoth.

There were a dozen suits and sports outfits hanging on the rack, and six pairs of men’s shoes on the floor. Lantz opened the jackets and examined the labels. The suits were all custom-made by Herrera, Avenida la Plata. The shoes were made by Vill.
I’ve hit the jackpot!
Lantz gloated.
They’ll have a record of Angel’s address. I’ll go to the shop first thing in the morning and ask a few questions.
A warning sounded in his mind.
No. No questions.
He had to be more clever than
that. He was, after all, dealing with a world-class assassin. It would be safer to let Neusa lead him to Angel.
Then all I have to do is tip off my friends in the Mossad and collect the reward. I’ll show Ned Tillingast and the rest of the fucking CIA bunch that old Harry Lantz hasn’t lost his touch. All the bright boys have been chasing their asses trying to find Angel, and I’m the only one smart enough to pull it off.

He thought he heard a sound from the bed. He carefully peeked out of the closet door, but Neusa was still asleep.

Lantz turned out the closet light and walked over to the bed. Muñez’s eyes were closed. Lantz tiptoed to the bureau and began looking through the drawers, hoping to find a photograph of Angel. That would be a help. No luck. He crept back into bed. Neusa was snoring loudly.

When Harry Lantz finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with visions of a white yacht crowded with beautiful naked girls with small, firm breasts.

In the morning when Harry Lantz awoke, Neusa was gone. For an instant, Lantz panicked. Had she already left to meet Angel? He heard noises in the kitchen. He hurried out of bed and slipped into his clothes. Neusa was at the stove.

“Buenos días,”
Lantz said.

“Wan’ coffee?” Neusa mumbled. “I can’t fix no breakfast.

I got ‘n appointment.”

With Angel.
Harry Lantz tried to hide his excitement. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry. Why don’t you go and keep your appointment and we’ll meet for dinner tonight.” He put his arms around her, fondling her pendulous breasts. “Where would you like to have dinner? Nothing but the best for my girl.”
I should have been an actor,
Lantz thought.

“I don’ care.”

“Do you know Chiquín on Avenida Cangallo?”

“No.”

“You’ll like it. Why don’t I pick you up here at eight
o’clock? I have a lot of business to attend to today.” He had no business to attend to.

“Okay.”

It took all his willpower to lean over and kiss Neusa good-bye. Her lips were flabby and wet and disgusting. “Eight o’clock.”

Lantz walked out of the apartment and hailed a taxi. He hoped Neusa was watching from the window.

“Turn right at the next corner,” he instructed the driver.

When they had turned the corner, Harry Lantz said, “I’ll get out here.”

The driver looked at him in surprise. “You wish to ride only one block,
señor
?”

“Right. I have a bad leg. War wound.”

Harry Lantz paid him, then hurried back to a tobacconist shop across from Neusa’s apartment building. He lit a cigarette and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Neusa came out of the apartment building. Harry watched as she waddled down the street, and he followed her at a careful distance. There was no chance of his losing her. It was like following the
Lusitania.