When the commandante thought later about his adventures from that night, he really didn't understand how he could have done something so stupid as going to Camero's house alone. He should, as usual, send someone – if not the lancers to keep an eye on it under the pretext of patrol, then at least some trusted men, disguised as workers, or drunkards, to wander near and observe. But, no, he was probably too shaken, too impatient, he didn't want to wait… so he walked straight toward this house, alone and angry.
He stopped for a moment on the opposite side of the street, observing the house through the lashing streams of rain. It was already long after the sunset and there were lights in the windows. Certainly the magistrado was inside… but Monastario didn't want to confront him now, not until he manageed to catch some of this man's secrets. So, he only stood in darkness trying to notice anything of interest. Unfortunately, the thick curtains in the windows prevented any passerby from seeing what was happening inside the building. The commandante swirled impatiently, feeling unpleasant chill of his clothes soaking with the rain. There was no use in standing here, but what about checking the yard?
The main gate was closed and barred, but in the side wall there was a second narrow pass for servants and suppliers. It was open… far from any window… hidden in deep shadow… Monastario, without thinking much, or rather without thinking at all, quickly crossed the street and sneaked through it.
The yard wasn't big. Almost the whole space was taken by the magistrado's carriage and this second cart, still not unloaded. In the stables on the opposite side, some men were sitting near the small fire, yet the vehicles hid Monastario from their sight and he made calmly a few steps along the back side of the house. In spite of the rain, some of the windows from this side of the house were open and he was just to peek through it, when someone exited the back doors with the loud crash and headed for the stables, passing in the distance no more than few yards from the petrified commandante.
"What are you all doing here?" sounded the angry voice. "That's how you keep watch, drowsing over the warm fire? Scared of rain? You and you, go and walk around the building, see whether no one is nosing around. And you two, guard the side gate."
A few men, muttering some quiet profanities, reluctantly left the cover of the stables, heading toward the gate.
Monastario held his breath, trying to squeeze himself into the building's wall, finally chilled with the realization that sneaking here was not the wisest thing to do. His instinct whispered that if his presence was discovered, explaining it to the magistrado would be the last of his problems. Oh no, Camero probably won't even ask about it. Tomorrow, Monastario's body will be simply found in another ravine and, just as it should be done in the moment of crisis, Gonzales will take control over the garrison as the acting commandante from the magistrado's nomination.
You went straight into his hands like the last idiot, concluded his instinct.
Monastario started to move as cautiously and quietly as he could along the house wall, his eyes never leaving the men walking toward the gate, praying that none of them would turn their head in his direction… Luckily, they were not eager to look around in the pouring rain, but two of them remained on guard in the gate, curling themselves to make the best use of the miserable shelter it gave – and literally blocking the narrow passage. Monastario bit his lips in confusion. So, the way out was closed…
He made few steps deeper into the shadow to get more distance from the guards. Once he will be safely hidden, he will try to…
He barely manage to refrain himself from outcry when the darkness behind his arm… moved.
Apparently the deepest piece of the shadow was already taken.
As soon as Monastario saw – or rather felt – the familiar black clad figure by his side, his hand immediately ran toward the hilt of his weapon. The Fox did the same, but they didn't even manage to bare the whole blades, when they froze, hearing one of the men in the stables calling:
"Have you heard it? Something under the house?"
"I haven't heard anything," replied another voice, but nevertheless someone stood up and started slowly squeezing himself between the carts in their direction.
For the second, both the commandante and the bandit ceased moving. Then Zorro first pushed his blade into the scabbard, with impatient shrug showing Monastario empty hands. After a moment of hesitation, the commandante reluctantly followed his gesture.
He had to admit, that the situation was a bit… complicated.
The guard slipped on the muddy soil and fell, with a loud bump bruising some part of his body, filling the whole yard with loud curses. In this moment of commotion, Monastario felt the Fox pulling his sleeve. When he looked at his direction, the bandit silently pointed him the nearest window, jumping inside the house with one swift movement.
The commandante had no choice but follow him.
Luckily the room was empty. For a moment they just curled under the window, clinging tightly to the wall, relatively safely hidden behind the big sofa, listening to the steps of the misfortunate guard who finally reached the house and slowly examined the dark corners, so thorough, that he even moved aside some old barrels and boards, leaning his back under the widow frame just over their heads…
Monastario sat on the floor petrified, not only because of caution, but also of contradictory emotions that almost made him dizzy.
Damn, he wanted now so many things!
First of all, this man sitting near him. This bandit. Monastario wanted to grip his throat, engage him in fight and win, he wanted to tear his mask off and find out the face and name behind it, and he wanted to send him to the gallows and see his last look when he, finally beaten, will farewell the world and the life… The commandante clenched his teeth to strangle the moan of hate and fury.
But he also wanted to get Camero, reveal his true motives to these fools in the pueblo and make him pay for his impudence, for his smugness… for the fact that he forced the commandante to hide in dark corners… like a bandit and in the company of the bandit… Camero threw him the challenge and Monastario very much wanted to show him, what end the idiots who dare to throw the challenge to him met.
Who knows, perhaps right now he wanted to get Camero even more than he wanted to get the Fox.
Finally, in shortest perspective, the commandante also wanted to get out of this affair alive.
Sometimes the shortest perspective is most decisive.
So Monastario, in spite of all his emotions, just sat very calmly and quietly, till the man under the window finally finished his search and they heard him moving away, the sound of steps slowly disappearing in darkness.
The Fox cautiously shifted into more comfortable position.
"So, you are an unwanted guest here as well, Capitán?" he whispered, but somehow even his whisper was mocking.
"I have the right to lead the investigation," replied Monastario irritated with the suggestion of similarity between their positions.
"The right won't help you to get out of here. We will have to…" started the Fox but silenced and stiffened, as they heard someone entering the adjacent room.
"I am so glad you finally arrived, Señor. I am sure you remember I have your not so small cargo I am very eager to get rid of?" said unknown man.
"Of course. Of course," that was certainly the voice of Camero, courteous and quiet. "But it must wait a bit longer. We brought the second part of the cargo, I don't have the place to store two carts. Be patient, my friend."
"Oh no, no, that is not what I agreed for," the visitor, apparently resilient to the magistrado's charm, raised his voice with irritation. "The plan was different, Ramírez was to come for it weeks ago and move it to your smithy. And what happened? There is no Ramírez and no smithy, and I still have that damn cart in my shed, that is going to send me straight to gallows if someone checks its content!"
They heard a loud cling, as if someone put away the glass or the mug too abruptly.
"I know that the plan was different! Nothing goes as planned in this damn pueblo!" Camero almost gnarled. Monastario smiled slightly at the fact that the confident façade of this suave snake finally shattered… but his smile quickly faded, as he caught the glance of the Fox grinning with evident satisfaction.
Since when I am on the same side with this rascal? Of course I am not! gnarled silently the commandante.
"Señor, do you realize that I run the tavern?" continued Camero's guest in the next room. "It means customers, a lot of customers. One of them might finally, through accident or curiosity, look into this damn cart! Who is going to save my skin then?"
Monastario grimaced in confusion. Certainly this voice didn't belong to the tavern owner from Los Angeles. So, did it mean that he had some supporters outside the pueblo? Zorro in the meantime shifted a little and craned his neck to peek into the adjacent room, but probably in vain, as he sat back with disappointed expression.
"A bit more of patience. I will take care of this," replied calmingly Camero, in control again. "Now, go home and do not visit me here anymore. I will contact you soon."
They heard doors open and close and then Camero sighing with fatigue. Then the third voice spoke with respect indicating that it belonged to the servant:
"Señor, the alcalde of the pueblo brought you earlier today the list of the council's complaints. I told him you will analyze it will all due attention and meet him later."
"What? Also the alcalde? Oh, why does everyone here have to be so overzealous! I hate this place already," Camero almost moaned. "Now, let's go upstairs, we must think what to do with our cargo."
"The cargo… tell me more about it…" whispered quietly the Fox, sending wistful glance toward the adjacent room, but they only heard Camero and his assistant climbing the stairs.
When the sound of the steps silenced, Monastario smirked. Ramírez's name and the mention about the smithy was all he needed to confirm his suspicions, and this mysterious cargo was a good starting point to further investigate. The only problem was that before the commandante would be able to proceed with examining it, he would have to deal with the present, rather troublesome situation.
He stirred, not sure what to do. Fighting with the Fox was temporarily out of the question, it would alarm the guards in the second. The best thing would be to get out in some clever way, leaving the bandit here alone in straits, but Monastario had no idea how to do it. As the matter of fact, he had no idea how to get out in any way, clever or not… Shameful, but he couldn't help putting some hopes in his masked companion. After all, this damn bandit always got away, perhaps now he also had already prepared some magic way of escape? And it seemed that he didn't mind a little ceasefire… the commandante cast a shy glance in Zorro's direction and froze in surprise.
And what is he doing? Has he gone loco, or what? Monastario thought stunned, seeing that the Fox carefully took off his cape, folded it and cleaned with it his gloves and shoes from mud and droplets of rain. Only when the bandit started to wipe out the trails of wet soil from the carpet, did the commandante understand his intentions.
"Do the same and be thorough," whispered Zorro handing him the black bundle. "We wouldn't like our hosts to get oriented they have been observed, would we? And since we are already here, it would be nice to look around. It is not an easy place to visit."
Monastario at first bridled a little at the bandit giving him orders, but then he obeyed. It would be good to get out of here unnoticed and without leaving any trails, the magistrado was too cautious even now... When the he finished, the Fox was already in the next room, nosing in the best through Camero's desk. The commandante looked impatiently around.
"There is no time for this. Someone might hear us!" he hissed. Seeing that the bandit had no intention of stopping his search, he threatened angrily: "I am leaving."
"As you wish. But you do realize, Capitán, that your death would be the most convenient thing for these men?" remarked the Fox, not casting even one glance in his direction, fully occupied with the papers on the desk. "Even if you worked with them, I think that Camero would very much prefer to see his friend Gonzales at the command of the cuartel. Better wait, your chances are bigger with me."
"You already know their names?" retorted ironically Monastario, not willing to comment on the last sentence.
"I know a lot of things," noticed obliviously Zorro, looking through the drawers, "but… but I have no idea what this might be…" he whispered surprised, tipping out the pile of eagle's feathers from some leather folder.
Seeing it, Monastario couldn't hold the astonished gasp. So many of them? What could it mean? Was Camero the head of this strange conspiracy?
"Do they look familiar for you, Capitán?... So you have an advantage over me," muttered the Fox, ordering the feathers into three piles. "They are different… They have different markings. It might be important. Do you know what these cuts mean?"
"No, I don't," Monastario shook his head. Then, however, he saw that Zorro as if unaware of the danger they were in, was calmly contemplating the feathers; obviously not intending to leave the place before he gets some clue to solve the riddle. The commandante added also impatiently, pointing at the familiar pattern of markings: "I got… I saw… The previous… visitors presented me such one. That's all I know."
"Ha, interesting. They gave you such and you are still alive. That's already something," commented quietly the Fox and reached for the clean piece of paper and pencil. For a moment he started to take off his glove, but then he hesitated, shot a quick glance at the commandante and pulled it back.
So cautious… I would give a half of my life to catch him on the mistake… crossed through Monastario's mind.
Anyway, his impatience was growing. They could be discovered in any minute, Camero or his servant might return, or someone from the yard could enter… There was no time to linger – and this stupid bandit was calmly redrawing the patterns of the feathers so precisely – and slowly as the leather glove disturbed him a bit. Yet, Monastario couldn't leave Zorro here and try to get out alone. The commandante had to admit that alone his chances were much lower… and what's worse, if he got caught, the Fox would certainly use the commotion to sneak calmly out.
No matter how troubling he found this strange alliance, he had to wait with breaking it until he will be safe.
"Listen, I have such feather in my office, I will show it to you later, just let's get out now," he whispered irritated, before he realized what exactly he said.
"Thank you, Capitán, but I am afraid you might forget about it once we are outside," replied the bandit continuing his work.
Monastario rolled his eyes, but he could do nothing but wait till the Fox finished his drawing, hid it behind his sash and then ordered cautiously Camero's desk, so that everything lay just as before. Only then did the bandit near to the exit doors, setting it a little ajar – and closing immediately back.
"Guards. Let's try again the yard," he whispered, moving toward the window.
The yard was empty now. The small fire in the stables flickered behind the vehicles, but the men around it didn't talk, probably drowsing. For one small second both the Fox and the commandante stared longingly at the covered cart, but it stood too near to the fire. Checking its cargo would be too risky now.
Then the Fox moved smoothly toward the side gate, yet he got rooted to the spot when the voices of other guards walking in front of it sounded in the air. This way was watched too.
This place is like some damn trap, thought Monastario in despair. Perhaps the Fox would somehow manage to sneak by the guards. In this rainy night, in his black attire, when he covered the lower part of his face, one could hardly tell him apart from the shadows. But the commandante… Monastario felt suddenly painfully aware of his white trousers, his white belt with shining buckle, his metal buttons and dozens of fair, glittering details on his uniform, most of them serving only to decoration – and of course everything was very clean and shiny. The commandante liked to keep his uniforms in the best order.
"Like a chandelier," muttered bitingly the Fox, piercing him with scrutinizing glance. "You only lack some crystal pendants."
Before the commandante managed to get offended, the bandit moved toward the end of the house.
"We will get to the other side over the roof," he whispered. "This way," he pointed at the wall.
Which way? Monastario thought desperately looking in disbelief as the black figure deftly climbed up the almost plain wall to the distant roof. He should have called himself not the fox, but the squirrel!
Well, if he could do it, I can too. The commandante clenched his teeth and started to climb.
These were some of the worst moments in his life. He climbed in darkness, not sure whether in one second he won't lose his footing, or the slippery wall won't escape his fingers and he falls down to crash his head on the yard… or whether one of the men in the stables won't hear him and look in his direction, and then simply shoot him down… He didn't dare to breath louder, though his tired lungs begged for air… And his fingers numbed from the contact with cold wet wall, his arms and legs ached from tension… And besides, he feared that the Fox, being safely on top, will simply disappear somewhere in the darkness, leaving him like the last idiot on this roof, the commandante could probably climb up, but he certainly wouldn't be able to climb down…
But the Fox didn't disappear. When the commandante, panting heavily, finally dragged himself onto the top of the roof, clinging to it like the shipwrecked to the land, the bandit didn't reach to help him, but he stood there and waited, leaning on the chimney with folded hand, almost steaming with impatience.
"You make the noise like the drunken bear,"he hissed angrily.
"I am an honest man, used to the gates, not to the bandits' tracks," Monastario gasped in retort, struggling to stand up on his wobbly legs. As if for mockery, right in this moment his feet slipped on the wet tile and he would have fallen down, if Zorro didn't grab his collar.
"Well, bad for you then," he noticed obliviously, shoveling him toward the chimney.
Monastario grabbed its brick wall greedily, for a moment so relieved that he almost didn't feel humiliated. All right, the commandante never liked climbing. It was not that he was a coward, or clumsy, no. He just didn't like being high – only in the literal sense of course. He didn't like being high and looking down, and the fact that right now when he looked down he saw nothing but darkness didn't help at all. On the contrary, it made the situation much worse.
The Fox started to walk calmly along the roof and Monastario though in despair that no matter what, he was simply unable to follow him on this wet, slippery roof – when suddenly they heard a loud voice from the room just beneath them. Camero's voice.
Zorro rolled himself down the roof so quickly that for a moment the commandante thought he was falling – but the bandit only clung to the edge of the roof, tilting his head down to hear it more precisely. Monastario noticed that now he could easily push him down, but he was too tired for it. Besides, it would require making a few steps down on these damn wet tiles…
"I can see no other way," said loudly Camero. "The only place where our carts would arouse no suspicions is this smithy. Send two men there now, let them cut the throat of the blacksmith. Tomorrow I will announce an investigation on this crime and Gonzales will take control over the building. Then we will transport there the cargo."
"It won't look good," replied someone. "One day the lancer, the second day the blacksmith? Someone might notice that the mortality rate in the pueblo grew rapidly after our arrival."
"So what? I don't care. We already tried diplomatic approach and it has been one failure after another. Go."
Someone down there slammed the door and the Fox swiftly climbed back to the top of the roof. Seeing him, Monastario tried to look as if he was casually leaning over the chimney, not clinging to it desperately.
"You heard?" whispered the bandit. "They are going to kill him. Hurry!" He ran a few steps along the roof, and, hearing that the commandante was not following him, he turned back with irritation: "Capitán, if you need someone to lead you through it holding your hand, I have no time for it."
The anger somehow helped Monastario to go through this roof, then slip down to the lower buildings and get to the other side of the yard. Zorro was obviously in a hurry, he didn't look back anymore, only after they reached the stables, dived into the darkness of the street below them. The commandante saw no way to climb down, he just grabbed the edge of the roof, swayed for a moment and finally jumped, landing heavily on the ground… just under the impressive teeth of the black stallion, who snorted over Monastario with evidently hostile intentions.
Zorro was already in the saddle.
"The blacksmith," he reminded.
"I will get the lancers," muttered Monastario, crumbling away from the black horse before he dared to stand up.
"There is no time, they left a while ago!" hissed Zorro rearing his horse and disappeared in the darkness.
The commandante for a moment stood not sure what to do. He certainly had tonight enough of hiding, sneaking and climbing, he wanted to have his power and his men by his side… But he realized that if he goes now to the cuartel for the lancers, when they will reach the smithy it will be too late to find even the trace of Camero's men or the Fox…
Hurling silent curses under his nose, Monastario ran alone toward the smithy.
Already at the distance of the tens of yards he heard the noises of the fight, wooden equipment and metal tools tossing aside with loud clatter. For a moment he bridled at the incompetence of his lancers. What was the use of their night patrols, if they didn't notice such clamorous fight?
The commandante expected to find a few men in the smithy, Zorro and blacksmith defending against Camero's ruffians – but there was only the Fox fighting with one opponent, the second lay knocked down on the floor.
The man struggling with the Fox was not only tall and heavy built, but also quick and agile and it seemed that he was giving hard time to the masked man. He kept a long knife in his hand, whereas Zorro's sword was gone somewhere and he had only some piece of wood, with which he parried the attack. Yet, the ruffian must have suffered a few well-aimed punches, judging from the bruise on his jaw and tear on his sleeve, whereas the Fox appeared to remain unharmed so far.
When your two enemies are fighting each other, there is always a dilemma whom to attack first. Monastario hesitated, considering the situation. In the meantime, the second ruffian, lying just near his feet, started to regain consciousness, stirring on the floor, struggling to rise on his knees. Monastario absently took the first thing that was under his hand – a clay pot – and crushed it over his head. The man fell down, limp and motionless again, and the commandante tried to concentrate.
At first I must get rid of the Fox, he decided. Though Camero's man appeared to be a strong opponent, somehow Monastario was sure that he would manage to deal with any thug. Whereas Zorro… the commandante had a feeling that if he left alone with el Zorro, the masked bandit would just slip through his finger, as usual.
Monastario took some piece of broken stool, intending to knock his enemy down, but when he looked for the best moment to near to the fighting men, Camero's mercenary managed to pin the Fox to the wall and deal a blow with his knife. The masked man dodged aside, but only in the last second and the blade missed his throat by no more than a hair's breadth.
Oh no, no one will kill my bandit so senselessly! bridled Monastario, charging now straightly at Camero's mercenary.
He was just a step from two struggling man, when the Fox with the sharp movement managed to free himself from the attacker's grasp, catch his writs and twist it… and the ruffian fell with loud clatter on the floor under his feet, with his own knife in his heart.
"Thank you for the help with the second one," said the Fox, catching quick breath and rubbing his arm. "The blacksmith and his family were not at home tonight," he pointed at the doors leading to the housing part of the smithy, "but I didn't know about it. There was no other choice, even if it was not wise to show these men someone's following their steps."
Monastario didn't listen to him, staring at Camero's man in front of him. He examined his wound and checked his pulse.
"He is dead," he said with disbelief.
"Not that I had much choice, the man was a professional killer. But there is still the second one to interrogate," remarked the Fox, retrieving his blade from some corner.
That was not the point. Monastario was confused by something entirely different.
"I thought you do not kill," he said in the same tone as before. Damn, he did a lot of things basing at this assumption!
The Fox stopped and for a small second just looked at the commandante. If he wasn't wearing the mask, probably Monastario could see his eyebrows rising.
"You were wrong," he replied simply after a while.
Monastario felt suddenly very, very unsure. For a long time, since the moment when Zorro spared him and Sepulveda locking them in the cells, he had an impression that he was playing with his opponent a game – such kind of game in which only the commandante had the power to finish it in an ultimate way, whereas the Fox was no more than some impudent joker. He couldn't deny that the Fox had many occasions to deal him a fatal stroke. Now he realized that the bandit didn't do it just because… because according to his judgment, the commandante didn't cross some line that would justify it according to his code of conduct... If he did, he would already be dead as this man on the floor of the smithy…
Monastario felt the sudden sting of fear, as he had no idea where this line laid.
"Now listen, you have one prisoner," Zorro interrupted his musing, pointing at the unconscious bandit, "but Camero will certainly renounce his actions and you have nothing to prove his involvement. No one's going to believe you. That's why…"
"Go inside, Corporal, and check what caused those noises! I am sure I heard some men here!" in the night outside sounded the loud voice of Sergeant Garcia.
"Are you sure that you heard some men here, Sergeant?" asked hesitantly Reyes.
"Of course, stupid, and who else could it be? A ghost?" laughed Garcia, but his laugher quickly faded and he repeated rather pitifully: "A ghost?..."
Monastario rolled his eyes, but the Fox only smirked:
"I don't think you would like to talk with me in the presence of your men… I will visit you later to discuss it. Just remember, I can help you with Camero, but my help has its price. If you want me on your side, don't pursue anyone at the pueblo, including the council and its members," whispered the bandit and disappeared from the smithy before the commandante managed to respond anything or decide how to stop him.
Then Monastario heard only the rattle of horse's hooves and the merry shout of the bandit:
"Sergeant Garcia, over here! The ghost is leaving, you may enter now!"
Pina found the state of self-pitying quite appealing and he intended to spend the next day doing nothing but soothing his despaired soul and a little aching head. Even when the housekeeper brought him the gossips about some extraordinary brawl that took place in the smithy last night, he didn't want to listen, hoping only that the commotion will make everyone at the pueblo forget about his humble person.
Unfortunately he was mistaken. About noon he got a visit of one of Camero's servants, who in respectful, but decided tone passed him the magistrado's request to visit him as soon as it will be possible. There was no doubt that 'as soon as possible' means 'immediately', and Pina was forced to leave his hiding.
"I hoped that you would visit me earlier, Licenciado," said Camero with slight reproach in his voice. "Have you heard that one of my men was killed, and the other one arrested last night?"
Pina suddenly missed the times when there was no one at the pueblo willing to speak with him.
"I heard that the patrol caught someone in the middle of the night in the smithy," he replied cautiously, "but I don't know any details, I haven't been at the cuartel yet."
"Well, you should have! Don't you understand it yourself?" exclaimed Camero, now the irritation clear in his voice. "The commandante asked me to visit him in his office and explain it. Before I speak with him I must know… what he knows so far. Haven't you heard anything else?"
Pina curled on the chair and observed Camero, searching for anything that would help him to figure out the true nature of this man. The façade of friendly and open businessman that cheated the licenciado last time was false, that was certain, but who he really was? Pina could see only the suave, elegant man… definitely too elegant even as for the high-rank official. The sophisticated cut of clothes, the golden buttons incrusted with mother-of-pearl, the laces by his collar and cuffs probably even more expensive than the jewels on his fingers… Pina among the richest haciendados didn't meet anyone wearing such fortune on himself. Diego de la Vega, who held the undoubted title of the first dandy in the region, would get outshone by the magistrado like the sparrow by the peacock…
Greed and ambition, classified Pina, wondering why he didn't realize it earlier. No one coming from really rich family cares to show it so ostensively.
"What else do people say?" urged him Camero.
"I only heard that the bandit el Zorro appeared there too," muttered Pina.
Camero laughed as if he just got the most welcomed present.
"Ah, so the dark angel of Los Angeles got interested in my humble person? Good, I hoped to draw his attention!"
That's not exactly the thing to be particularly happy about, thought Pina, but didn't voice it. Instead, he hesitantly directed the conversation into the subject he very much feared to start… but that was inevitable.
"The death of the lancer certainly did draw his attention."
Camero must have understood the unspoken question in Pina's remark as he sat quiet for a while, his features arranging in the expression of regret.
"That was an accident, Licenciado, unhappy accident," he said finally very sadly. "I never wished this poor boy dead, I only sent the men with orders for him to return. You know I have the right to give such command, he should have obeyed. I do not know what happened there, I truly do not know!" his voice was soft and compassionate, and there was even a small glitter of tear in his eye.
Pina was always very resilient to tears.
He was scared, but there was only one thing he could do now. There was no other way.
"It wasn't an accident," he croaked. "I am not asking any questions. I just do not want to have anything more to do with you."
"Tsk, tsk, Licenciado," Camero shook his head, neither surprised nor abashed. "How can such wise man say something so childish? I put so much trust in you, I spoke to you with all confidence, I taught you our signs – and now you want to leave? Theoretically I should farewell you now, and then call my friends so that they could farewell you too. You understand what I am talking about?" he asked gently.
Pina slowly nodded, feeling like a rabbit in front of the dancing snake.
"But I got to like you, Licenciado," sighed Camero. "That is probably a mistake, but a soft heart has always been my weakness. So, I will take a risk," he smiled with energy. "Let's try again. Let's forget what you said. Do not allow this misfortunate accident put the shadow on our friendship."
"Accidents happen," whispered Pina after a long while of silence.
Seeing how Camero's friendly smile changed into the triumphal and knowing one, he almost shivered with disgust to himself, but… there was no other way.
When the lancer announced Magistrado Camero, and the official entered the commandante's office, Monastario didn't stand up with greeting only pointed him the chair with reluctant glance. Off with the courtesies, this man was a cheater and imposter… and that's how he intended to treat him.
Camero looked around, slowly took the place in front of the Monastario's desk… and smiled shyly.
"I am afraid we started on a very bad footing, Capitán," he said apologetically. "It is mostly my fault, I should have talked with you first, explained everything. However, I thought it will be good to convince the council about my impartiality, so that it would be easier to… steer them. Otherwise, I wouldn't manage to get their trust… I didn't think you would feel so endangered," he finished with polite smile, but the gloomy cloud in Monastario's eyes didn't disperse even a bit.
"Did you kill my lancer?" he asked harshly.
"Now, that's a misunderstanding!" exclaimed Camero outraged. "I never meant it to happen, I wanted to stop him, true, but nothing more. Things must have gotten out of control somehow," he shook his head with regret, but seeing that Monastario's expression didn't change a bit, he suddenly waved his hand. The grief flowed from his face giving place to impatience and he stated coldly: "All right then, hang one of my men you have in the cell and we will be even. Just let's finish this subject."
Monastario almost choked. If at the pueblo they call me devil, how should they name this one?, he thought in awe.
"Let's get to business," said firmly Camero and without more explanations put on Monastario's desk the eagle's feather. He kept watching the commandante cautiously and lack of any reaction on his side seemed to confuse him a bit. "You are not surprised… So, why did you send this man to Monterey? If you suspected who sent me… I thought we had an agreement with you."
"You were wrong," replied Monastario. He just couldn't resist using Zorro's words. Damn, it really sounded good – and Camero appeared to get confused even more.
"I believe you… misunderstood our intentions, Capitán. Were you afraid of your position?" he asked with hesitation and Monastario almost saw how his thoughts rushed in the attempt to understand the situation. "I assure you that it is not the reason of my arrival."
"So what is it, Señor?" asked Monastario coldly. "What is the reason for coming here with the false mandate?"
"To strengthen our businesses in Los Angeles," Camero shrugged his shoulders as if his quest was the most natural and most innocent. "We have certain matters here that required the presence of someone with power and respect. That's why I came here as the governor's emissary. Besides, I had to bring with me numerous company… I need my men to deal with a certain problem… a problem we apparently share, Capitán. El Zorro."
"Zorro?" Monastario repeated numbly, taken totally by surprise.
"Yes, your famous black bandit. He has been a thorn in your side as well, hasn't he?"
"I will deal with him myself," muttered reluctantly the commandante.
Anna… She said something about letting the suitable people know about the Fox. Who could say that the threats of a crying woman would turn into the presence of a dozen armed men?…
"You had no luck so far, Capitán," retorted ironically Camero. "But this masked rider messed with someone he shouldn't. With us. He cost us too much… and he will pay for it. That's why I need the trust of the pueblo."
"You make no sense, you won't keep the popularity among the people when you start to chase Zorro," gnarled Monastario, irritated with the reference to his previous failures.
Camero laughed, his eyes sparkling with malicious mirth.
"You are so simple-minded, Capitán! I can discredit this bandit and make the whole pueblo chase him with me… You failed to see that the mask he wears is perhaps his hiding, but also his trap."
"What do you mean?" asked cautiously Monastario, very reluctant at the idea that someone else might have found the better way to deal with the Fox. He didn't like it. Zorro was his enemy, he didn't want anyone else to… steal his revenge.
Camero must have sensed some of the commandante's feelings as he only replied evasively:
"I heard he had a clash with my men last night? Good, I hoped he would show himself soon. Let him come and nose around. Each time he appears, I will turn it against him."
That's why he left the lancer's body to be found… to get Zorro's interest, not mine… thought Monastario with the sting of humiliation. Was he so… unimportant for this man? Well, if Camero thought that the commandante will be no more than an obedient puppet… he will soon learn that he made a big mistake disregarding him in his plans…
"If you keep losing your mercenaries each time he appears, soon you will have no one to hunt him with," remarked ironically Monastario, but Camero only smiled again.
"I don't enjoy the death of the skilled helper… but after all, your Fox is a murderer now, isn't he? The unpredictable bandit killed the poor servant sent with some urgent errands at night… Who can feel safe now?" he sighed with ironic concern.
"I never said it was Zorro who killed your man," mumbled the commandante, regretting that he didn't come on the idea of using the last night's incident in such way himself.
"But you will," stated obliviously Camero, and Monastario understood that he didn't care at all who was really guilty of his servant's death. "You will say to everyone that your patrol came across the tussle between Zorro and my servants, and one of them got killed by his hand. No more details are necessary, a bit of mystery is good for creating confusion."
What makes him think he can give me orders? thought Monastario more surprised than angry. He is treating me like some meek idiot obeying each command without question… Suddenly the commandante almost blushed, recalling his dealings with the previous… agent. Just because I was polite to the woman doesn't mean that this rascal can push me around! he bridled.
Camero, unaware that he did not dispose of certain attributes that made Monastario more cooperative, continued in the most commanding tone.
"Besides, Señor Commandante, you will do no more rush foolishness like sending someone anywhere. You will, officially, remain wary and keep a reluctant attitude toward me. I do not want to lose the trust of the cabildo. Still, you will discreetly consult with me all your important decisions. And if you are not sure whether the matter is important enough – at best come to me anyway."
Monastario sat for a moment calmly, waiting for the rush of blood in his ears to quiet.
"And you, Señor Magistrado," he said finally very, very politely, "you will exit this room and go to hell. And if you do not know the way, I will gladly show you. Or perhaps I will better show you the way straight to the cell."
Camero stared at him for a moment with wide opened eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether he didn't mishear something, his well-cared face slowly distorting with the grimace of anger.
"Mistake, Capitán!" he hissed finally. "Do you think it will be so easy?"
It was strange to hear the threat from such a tiny, elegant man who didn't even bother to carry any weapon… and whose hands looked as if he never handled one. Still, he was declaring war right now, there could be no doubts about it… Monastario saw it in his eyes. Perhaps this man was not a warrior… but he was all poison.
The commandante realized he was very, very right last night, hiding so cautiously from Camero's men.
"You are a cheater and a murderer," said heavily Monastario. His hand unwittingly clenched over the seal lying on his desk and he felt a strange comfort from the touch of this small wooden object, the symbol of his power and office.
"And who is going to believe you?" Camero laughed in his face. "Please, arrest me. That's what everyone here expects you to do, to fight me in a desperate attempt to escape the consequences of your offences. Arrest me. It is still early, by sundown you will have a rebellion at the pueblo."
He backed his elbows over Monastario's desk and leant toward the commandante whispering with a smile of a puckish boy:
"I can turn the people against the Fox, and I can turn them against you… It will be even easier… You have a grounded reputation here, mi Capitán. People will gladly follow anyone speaking against you."
Monastario almost cursed at the irony of the situation. All these noble fools from the council, so eager to protect the law, so anxious about the possible conspiracy around Los Angeles… will now, acting in their best intentions, follow the criminal… and fight the commandante.
How twisted the fate may be! During the conflict between him and the council, Monastario had struggled so hard, had refrain himself so much, to have at least the pretense of law on his side… and now, when the law and the truth were fully with him… it didn't really matter.
No, wait. Actually, it mattered a lot.
Monastario quickly lowered his eyes so that Camero didn't see the sudden glitter of excitement on his face. He ran his fingers over his stamp, caressing the pattern of Spanish coats of arms engraved on it.
In the meantime, Camero continued with the smile that was not friendly or shy now, only purely cruel:
"Better think twice, whose side you are on, Capitán. Think it over. Because if I call you a traitor, everyone here will fight you like a traitor. If you hope to get help from the governor… even if you manage to notify him, I assure you, you will be dead long before it arrives. Would you like to see your own soldiers to build the gallows for you?"
Monastario didn't think about the governor even once. What for? To send here some colonel who would take command in his hands? No, no. The threat suddenly turned into the chance and he had to catch it.
It is about all what I wanted. Power.
I need time. I must play along for a while, he thought. It's worth it. Now the stake is higher than getting rid of this rascal. He almost bridled at the thought of giving up to Camero, even if only for a moment, but he forced himself to the reluctant smile.
"Now you are too hasty, Magistrado," he said doing his best to appear unsure. "I do not want the bloodshed in the pueblo. Give me a few days to think it over."
Camero leant back on his chair, smiling widely and nodding with satisfaction.
"Of course. I already see that we will have an agreement," he said like the man used to his threats always having the desired effect.
Yes, we will. I will hang you just in the middle of the plaza. That's agreed, thought Monastario standing up to escort Camero to the door.
When Camero left, Monastario for a long while sat behind his desk, trying not to get carried away by the enthusiasm. He couldn't act to hastily... Such opportunity won't happen again.
He had to calculate everything.
Whoever helps the criminal becomes a criminal himself, as will the dons, if they support Camero, opposing the legitimate power of the commandante… Oh, certainly, Monastario will officially warn them, so that there would be no doubts. But Camero was right, who was going to believe him? The commandante almost laughed, imagining the face of Alejandro de la Vega, when he will tell him that the magistrado is the cheater who should be placed under arrest…
True, if there were a trial, some judge might acquit the members of the rebellious council, claiming that they were cheated… But who would bother with an open trial in such turbulent moment, with the hostile plot and the revolt in the region? Monastario would carry his own justice, and when he finished, his power here would finally be… unlimited.
The only problem was to defeat Camero and everyone supporting him. Right now, Monastario was too outnumbered… but this could be helped.
The commandante thought, calculated and… started to write a letter.
When he finished, he called for Sepulveda.
"I am going to send you with an assignment," he said to the lancer. "You will leave at night and speak with no one about it. You must act with the upmost caution and secrecy."
With satisfaction he noticed no fear on the soldier's face, only concentration.
"Am I going to Monterey?" he asked.
"No. To San Diego," replied Monastario, handing him the letter. "You will give it to Capitán Zambrano. He will certainly try to learn from you some details, so just repeat to him I want him to send me his men, immediately and as many as he can. He had better strip his garrison empty, because if I fail, he will be himself in far bigger trouble than he can handle."
Zambrano's integrity was certain; this old crock was too lazy and too stupid to take part in any treacherous conspiracy. Besides, he would surely do anything Monastario asks him to. In spite of having much longer seniority in service, he always seemed to fear the ambitious young officer a little.
"Just make sure he will give the men proper weapons and a vast stock of ammunition. I know he likes to make savings… You will return with reinforcements, but you cannot enter the pueblo. No one here, or in the haciendas, can learn about their presence, do you understand? I will hold you personally responsible for it," stressed the commandante, and Sepulveda swallowed hard, nodding. Now he did seem scared.
"Make the camp… behind the Mission San Gabriel, but be careful that the friars or these Indians won't see you," added Monastario with a grimace that recently always appeared on his face when he spoke about the natives.
"I will do my best, Capitán," assured him Sepulveda.
"I don't want you do your best, I want you do what I tell you," gnarled Monastario. "Now, you are dismissed."
The lancer only saluted and left the office, not daring to speak another word.
Monastario sat more comfortably and the dreamy smile appeared on his face. To finally get rid of all these haughty loudmouths! No, he will not hang them all; that would be an exaggeration of course… But how nice it will be to decide which one of them will be spared and which one not! To have their fate in his, only his hands!
Fleetingly he thought about Zorro. If Zorro learns Monastario's intentions, he certainly won't like them. He was rather protective about the council's members, making their safety the condition of his cooperation… Well, the commandante didn't need his help anymore… no, mistake: he didn't need it at all; he never needed it, nor intended to use it. What a shameful idea!
It wasn't good that the bandit knew the truth about Camero, he will try to warn the others about him… Yet, if Camero will succeed with discrediting his name – and the emissary appeared to be skilled in such intrigues – no one will believe the Fox either…
Monastario's smile grew wider. Oh, yes, the Fox was a worthy opponent, now, being so close to victory, the commandante could admit it. He was brave and wise, skilled with blade, clever and sly as the real fox… True, true. A hero. But still – a lonely hero. The conflict that was building up at the pueblo will involve the small army: the cuartel's crew, the reinforcements from San Diego, Camero's mercenaries and, last but not least, the haciendados with their men... What could the lonely rider do against all of them?
Who knows, perhaps with a bit of luck, when this storm ended, the commandante would have also the black Fox in his cell?
Monastario sighed with satisfaction and looked at the clock. It was the high time for siesta. After a long and tiring night, he could rest a little.
Something told him that now he will sleep calm and sound.
This chapter goes with special thanks for IcyWaters for borrowing Capitán Zambrano - the character much more respectable than Monastario thinks him to be :)