The hard way
In this chapter the commandante and the fox plot and conspire.
The licenciado gets the winning deal.
There is no better way to relieve the troubled mind than a bit of effort for your muscles.
Monastario grinned with satisfaction, exhilarated and relaxed, though he was engaged in the most relentless exchange of quick strikes, as he and his opponent circled on the cuartel's yard trying to find an opening in each other's defense. He felt as if the blade was a part of his body. When he deftly executed the finest thrusts and parries he ever practiced, his feet moved almost automatically, keeping him always in balance and he found it childishly easy to foresee and block each maneuver of the young man in front of him.
Generally, the commandante felt simply great and fully relished the joy of doing something he was very good at.
No, none of the soldiers would be able to provide him such entertainment… They were strong and practiced, but they lacked the finesse that only training since the earliest youth can give. His opponent was Don Juan Peralta, who eagerly accepted Monastario's invitation for a fencing match. The young man was considerably talented and must have had good teachers, what gave him in the neighborhood a reputation of an exquisite swordsmaster – but right now he didn't seem to enjoy the fight at all, gasping heavily as he struggled to block the commandante's blade.
Monastario knew very well that Peralta agreed for the exercise only because he hoped to defeat the officer with an easy victory, meant as an additional humiliation before his official dismissal everyone in the pueblo expected... Though, it was not to happen.
"Good fight requires an appropriate finale," stated casually Monastario, just to show his opponent that he didn't even manage to tire him – and with one quick twist of blade sent Juan's rapier flying high in the air.
Even the Fox wouldn't have done it better, he thought with satisfaction, as lancers watching the match started to cheer and Juan Peralta clenched angrily his fists.
"You are a good fencer, Capitán," he muttered bitingly. "Just why didn't you command your garrison as well as your sword?"
Monastario ignored him, cleaning his blade. He invited Peralta for a fencing match, not for a conversation. Once they were done, he didn't care for him a bit. If he would like to quarrel, he could find better opponents than this dull muscleman.
"I wonder how this Fox managed to beat you. The man must be a devil with sword," sighed Juan a bit longingly, retrieving his weapon. "Pity that he is dead."
"You think so?" asked obliviously Monastario.
"Certainly. That's what many people think. El Zorro must be dead and some rascal must be riding in similar attire. The real Fox would never attack the magistrado's men."
"Oh, he wouldn't?" muttered Monastario with irony, but didn't elaborate on his comment.
Camero, just as he planned, skillfully spread unsettling gossips. It was now a common belief that there might be something wrong with el Zorro. Some of the rich landowners stated that the bandit simply opposed each legitimate power, bringing in chaos and destruction; the others, who used to admire and support the mysterious outlaw, feared that their hero is really dead and someone uses his disguise and name for his own purposes.
All in all, people's trust in the masked rider was strongly disturbed.
Monastario observed it half-irritated and half-amused. No, he didn't like Camero messing into what the commandante thought to be his – and his only – game with the black clad bandit. Watching how the magistrado was trying to build a plot against the Fox, Monastario felt almost jealous, like the boy seeing someone intruding into his favorite playground.
On the other hand, it was funny indeed to see how all these pompous roosters from the council were so easily cheated by the clever rascal. The magistrado and the council were now spending a lot of time in the archives, going through the documents, reports, accounts... Monastario knew that the dons were trying to prove how he misused his power, both commanding the men and administering the pueblo – but he didn't care, knowing that Camero was only putting on a show in front of the landowners… Having assigned Sergeant Garcia to represent him in the investigation, he didn't bother himself more with it.
People at the pueblo were strongly surprised with Monastario's obliviousness. Some of them commented that he already gave up, seeing no way to cover his offences; the others – that he is plotting something extraordinarily devious.
Of course the second ones were right.
Monastario smiled indulgently at the very same thought he could have given up. Give up without a fight! He could play on time for a while. That's all. Never give up.
Yet, playing on time was extremely irritating. It wasn't in his nature just to sit and wait, and watch how his enemy was bossing around at the pueblo...
How much time should it take before the reinforcements from San Diego appear? Monastario counted days once again. Usually, the rider needed about four days to cover the distance between Los Angeles and San Diego. Sepulveda knew the matter is urgent, he could try to get there faster… But how long will it take for Capitán Zambrano to prepare the men? How quickly will they travel back?
Ouch, during the last week Monastario regretted hundreds of times that he has chosen such… cautious way, that he didn't find some trick that would allow him to strike at Camero without this infuriating delay…
Patience, he reminded himself once again. A bit of patience and my victory will be complete. I will get rid not only of Camero, but of my all enemies at once.
Deep in his thoughts, he slowly walked toward the tavern to enjoy a cold drink, well-deserved after the fencing exercise. Only at the tavern's door did he notice that Juan Peralta had the same idea. They almost clashed at the entrance and measured themselves with reluctant glances. Yet, as neither of them wanted to retreat before the other, they both went into the building.
The sala was surprisingly empty. None of the usual patrons were occupying the tables, even the inn-keeper and maids disappeared somewhere, there was only the young de la Vega, leant under the opened lid of the piano…. The piano? Ah, yes, Monastario recalled quickly that the inn-keeper had just bought the old piano somewhere, and de la Vega offered to tune it a little.
So, no wonder the tavern was so abandoned. The commandante grimaced at the cacophony of grating sounds that vibrated in the air. He would gladly leave the room as soon as possible, but he didn't want to give the impression of withdrawing because of Peralta's presence.
Peralta must have thought the same, as after the moment of hesitation he crossed the room and took a table in the opposite part of the sala than Monastario. The inn-keeper appeared after a while, served them the wine in utmost haste and disappeared quickly, leaving them to doubtful pleasure of witnessing de la Vega's work.
For a few minutes the commandante sat stiffly, fighting with unpleasant shivers each time when the old strings moaned in protest of being pulled or loosened, or the chord struck extremely false. Finally, his head started to pulse with pain. He gave up and gulped quickly his wine ready to get away, when Peralta, obviously coming through similar torment, asked angrily:
"Have you got nothing else to do, Don Diego? You should better help the alcalde and the council with their reports, we would be sooner done with this nuisance." With a slight movement of the head toward Monastario, Juan indicated what he meant by the 'nuisance' and what end of Camero's investigation he was certain of. The commandante smiled scornfully, but before he managed to retort, de la Vega replied calmly, barely raising his head from the instrument:
"I don't think so."
"You have such low opinion about your talents even when it comes to pen and paper?" mocked Peralta, apparently searching for someone to wreck his frustration after the failure in the match with the commandante.
"No," answered de la Vega, again diving under the lid of the piano. "I just do not think that anything would make the magistrado proceed quicker. The man does nothing but commotion," he finished angrily and Monastario was a bit abashed with the uncharacteristic irritation in his voice.
"You are fretful like a lady to be married," snickered Peralta and Monastario awaited some usual biting retort. To his surprise the dandy didn't reply anything; only turned back and started to clean the hammers with a soft rag. Juan, after a few minutes of awkward silence, tossed his mug on the counter with a loud bump and left the sala, seeming to be even more frustrated than in the moment he entered it.
How strange. It passed through Monastario's mind that de la Vega ignored Juan in the same dismissive way the commandante did on the cuartel's yard.
Monastario knew that de la Vega indeed had nothing better to do than tamper with the piano. He heard from Pina and Garcia that the young man during the council's meetings kept commenting on everything that the magistrado did or said in the way leaving no doubts that he is at least very suspicious of the integrity of Camero's intentions. As the other dons were dancing around the emissary as if he was the Archangel Gabriel sent to their rescue, de la Vega's remarks spoilt the mood in a very unpleasant way and finally his father asked him to leave the meeting and not mess with the investigation anymore.
With all the other dons – and Garcia – occupied with assisting the magistrado, de la Vega, left alone with no company, should be bored to death, and at the first glance he indeed looked so. Yet, suddenly Monastario couldn't resist the impression the obliviousness of the young man is as fake as the commandante's peace and passiveness, that deep inside he is equally tensed, irritated and impatient.
Just as if he really knew what kind of threat Camero poses… thought Monastario surprised. No, that was a stupid idea. No one in the pueblo knew the true face of the esteemed magistrado, only the commandante… And he told no one about it.
Well, there was of course also the Fox, but…
"What about your prisoner, Capitán?" suddenly asked de la Vega turning to Monastario. "The magistrado's man arrested the night when the second one was killed in the smithy? Did he explain what happened?"
"He said nothing of importance," replied Monastario evasively, once again confused with the unexpected question.
The prisoner didn't say anything of importance, because the commandante didn't ask him about it. What for? He knew about Camero everything he needed. Yet, he didn't release the man and Camero didn't demand it, thinking probably that keeping one of his men in the cell will soothe Monastario's pride and make him more cooperative.
"One could say you should question him with more engagement. Wouldn't it be convenient for you to find any dark stain on the magistrado's reputation?" de la Vega leant on the back of his chair, smiling friendly toward the commandante, yet his eyes remained surprisingly cold and watchful.
"Well, that's an astute remark, Senor!" exclaimed mockingly Monastario. "Would you like to tell me how to do my job? You would certainly make a fine commandante, you would just have to read a few suitable books on the subject… and I am afraid that during your studies you didn't encounter many of such… What exactly have you been studying, Senor?" he suddenly asked, for a moment truly interested what it might have been. Philosophy? Literature? Or something else equally tedious and of no use?
De la Vega stood up, leaning again over the strings.
"It does not matter what I have studied," he said obliviously fighting with some curb, "only what I managed to learn." The curb gave up and the string moaned with a loud rasp. "And what I managed to learn is enough to notice that the magistrado is exactly as eager to examine the records of the pueblo as you are to examine the night's fight of his men," he struck some chord and Monastario grimaced painfully hearing how terribly false it sounded.
The commandante stood up, intending to leave the room. This conversation had no sense and the last thing he intended to do was to excuse his decisions to the nosey dandy.
And just in this moment Sepulveda entered the sala.
Monastario couldn't refrain himself from the loud gasp, for a second overjoyed, then frozen with a wave of fear when he thought that something must have gone wrong, if the lancer returned so soon.
But Sepulveda, seeing his anxiety, reported quickly, with satisfied glitter in his eyes:
"Everything's fine, Capitán. Just as you ordered. I can give you the full report in the cuartel," he suggested, pointing discreetly toward de la Vega.
The young man noticed this gesture and stood up, seeming to be a little offended.
"Please, talk here freely," he bridled. "I have to bring a few new strings anyway. I do not know how much the inn-keeper paid for this box, but it was certainly the worst business he ever made."
He left and Monastario looked quickly around, deciding they can safely talk in the empty sala.
"So soon?" he asked hectically.
"We took loose horses and hardly rested on the way back… Capitán Zambrano was the most helpful. He sent a dozen well-armed men with Sergeant Dominguez," reported Sepulveda.
Monastario grimaced, for a moment his joy fading a little. He knew Sergeant Dominguez, this impudent, ambitious young brat… For a few weeks they served together in Monterey, and there came to a certain… misunderstanding between them.
Well, right now he was ready to work with a devil, if he had to.
"Where did they stay? Behind the mission?" he asked, adding anxiously: "Are you certain that no one has seen you?"
"Absolutely," nodded Sepulveda. "They found perfect, well-hidden caves. Not very comfortable, but definitely safe."
"Good," Monastario smiled dreamily.
"There is only the problem with provisions," Sepulveda's voice woke him up from the sweet visions of the battle and victory, now so close to his hands. "They didn't take much from San Diego to travel quicker. If they are to wait longer than a day or two, we will have to send them something."
"Provisions?" exclaimed loudly Monastario, unpleasantly abashed. "It will be difficult enough to send there a man with orders without someone noticing him! A loaded cart? Impossible! And it is not necessary. The matter will be done in two days. There will be no need to risk…"
Suddenly the wind outside blew stronger, the flurry of air ran through the sala and the entrance doors crackled loudly. Monastario turned abruptly in this direction. Shouldn't they be closed?
"I have only forgotten my gloves," muttered de la Vega, taking his gauntlets from the piano, "I am sorry to disturb you."
Monastario let the breath out of his lungs, relieved but also angry at himself for his recklessness. Thanks God it was only this dandy, but if someone overheard their conversation…
"Let's go to the cuartel," he waved for Sepulveda and exited the tavern.
Pina was reading the report on the garrison's finances prepared by the alcalde, admiring the clarity and precision of this document. It was a piece of good work and clearly proved that Monastario's integrity in this matter was more than questionable. The emissary could easily suspend him from his office, basing just on it…
But Camero only pretended to thoroughly go through the report. In the moment he and Pina were left alone in the office, he impatiently pushed the pile of papers aside.
"Why do you think, Licenciado, that this masked bandit, this Zorro, doesn't show himself anymore? I expected him to be more interested in my presence," he asked.
"Everyone here believes you to be an honest man," replied Pina seriously, masking well the irony, "an honest man and governor's official. Perhaps, in spite of this incident in the smithy, he thinks that way too, expecting that you will bring justice to the pueblo."
"If he were so stupid, we wouldn't have so many problems with him," bridled Camero. "Time's running out and I have achieved nothing. How shall I make him appear again?"
"You should provoke him," stated Pina, lowering his eyes, hoping to sound sincere. "Throw him a challenge, hurt or threaten someone…"
"How can you say something so stupid!" Camero didn't catch the hook, but he also didn't seem suspicious at the licenciado's advice. "People's faith is a feeble treasure, if I do one false step, they might stop trusting me. No, my reputation must remain spotless. But," he raised his head with sudden consideration, "your commandante could do something like this, to lure the bandit out of his hiding for me… Yes, the commandante… Tell me, Licenciado, why does he behave so strangely? I thought he will either fight me or help me… I heard that he is not the man to behave so passively."
"He is just offended because you tried to give him orders," replied Pina dismissively.
"So, he is not plotting anything?" Camero lowered his voice, shooting questioning glance toward the licenciado. "That's what some of the dons think. They warned me of him."
"Some of the dons think that Monastario is a devil straight from hell and eats sulfur for breakfast," Pina shrugged his shoulders. "No, I haven't heard that he would be plotting something."
True, he didn't hear that Monastario was preparing some unexpected counteroffensive. Still, he was certain that it is exactly what he does.
But why should he tell Camero about it?
The magistrado thought that Pina's initial fears were strangled by his greediness and that he bought his loyalty with the gold he generously paid him. He was mistaken. Pina liked gold, but he was wise enough to understand that sometimes you cannot buy your life with it.
Right now, he was loyal to no one but himself. Having found himself trapped with no way to flee from the battle field, the licenciado slowly started to play the game of his own – and having nothing to lose, he played bolder that usual. The first rule was to listen a lot and speak little. Just in case.
"I am worried with the delay too," he said with well-measured concern. "You cannot block the roads, sooner or later some of the dons will travel to Monterey and news about the mysterious emissary will reach governor's ears. And then…"
"And then he will certainly send here someone to order the matters," finished Camero with a surprisingly triumphant smile. "Don't worry, Licenciado, one or two more weeks of secrecy is all I need. Then someone indeed will come to make order here."
Seeing his face, Pina felt a cold shiver crawling up his spine. Exactly how far, how deep did this conspiracy reach? Who else was to come to the pueblo?
Suddenly Camero's face darkened a little and he bit his lips muttering with concern:
"Only before that moment I would like to have this bandit caught and killed and the whole pueblo under my control…" he tapped his fingers on the table, shifted uncomfortably and confessed with a sigh: "I would very much like to… prove useful, Licenciado."
Surprised, Pina realized that there was someone filling this sly, cruel man with the utmost fear.
The cold shiver turned into a steady, freezing grasp on his neck.
The sun was about to hide behind the horizon and the shadows on the streets were long, when Monastario slowly walked through the pueblo. The other passer-byes shot at him curious glances and lowered their voices when he was near. No doubt they were talking about him, gossiping, hoping for his soon dismissal and punishment…
Monastario smiled, definitely not like the man facing the official disgrace. Oh, how soon on the faces of his enemies, in the place of malicious satisfaction, will appear fear and desperation! How soon he will have all these proud, stubborn men at his mercy!
The gallows will be built in the plaza, not at the cuartel's yard, as it was customary. Big occasions require necessary framework.
And once it is finished, he will not only be a very powerful man, but also a very rich one. Monastario narrowed his eyes with delight, envisioning all these rich haciendas to be confiscated. Of course – his smile grimaced a little – the property of the traitors goes to the Crown, but there are also fines… These are never accounted for too precisely.
He walked by Camero's house, throwing passing glance at the gloomy building. Yes, with the force he had now, he could go straight to arrest the magistrado, he could even siege this house and defeat Camero's men. But then he would get only the false emissary. So far, the council did nothing wrong. Monastario needed the act of direct treason – and he was going to provoke it.
Pity that he cannot seize the land, he thought, returning to the center of the pueblo. That would be something… The smallest of these ranchos was at least ten times bigger than this miserable stretch of land his father was so proud of… Well, Monastario could probably marry some heiress – if he promised to spare her father from the gallows, each daughter should certainly agree to marry him… The commandante quickly searched his memory for a young, pretty, sole daughter of some rich landowner. The gracious figure of Elena Torres for a moment blurred in his mind, but then he grimaced, moving that thought aside. No, he won't spare Ignatio Torres, no matter what.
Ignatio Torres brought to his thoughts Alejandro de la Vega. What should he do with him? Such men aren't easily sent to gallows, no matter the charges… And his son apparently won't take part in any affair, he will remain free of charges and free to defend his father. Dandy or not, Monastario knew the boy will move the earth and sky to help him.
It was best if Alejandro would simply get killed somehow in the fight that is bound to happen. In all the commotion... Such things can be arranged, Monastario smiled unpleasantly, not noticing how some vaqueros, seeing his face, quickly stepped out of his way.
Yes, everything had to be arranged carefully. He will provoke the council to the open confrontation – and then quickly follow with the arrest, before they manage to rethink their situation. And Dominguez's presence must remain secret till the last moment, so that the dons won't realize how outnumbered they are.
Monastario looked around, in search for a suitable place for his great performance. The tavern? Camero's house? No, organizing the meeting in the building was a bad idea. He will have to speak with the dons alone at first, it might take the soldiers too long to force the doors… The commandante didn't intend to endanger himself excessively. The open space would be better.
The plaza, he stated, stopping by the well and looking around. The gates of the cuartel would remain open, at his first order the lancers would burst out… And Dominguez… Meeting him before the confrontation was too risky. Monastario would just have to send him secret orders to appear at the plaza at the precisely calculated moment, so the San Diego lancers would arrive just after the fight will begin, blocking the haciendados' way of escape… The commandante dreamily looked at the wide road leading toward the Mission, imagining the colorful soldiers' jackets appearing on it, almost hearing the desperate shouts of surprised rebels…
Coming back to reality he noticed one of the tavern girls staring at him with open mouth – apparently the maid thought his blissful smile was directed to her… The commandante snickered angrily, turning back.
As for the road leading out of the second side of the plaza… oh, he will just block it with some carts or barrels. It should be enough. Then only two or three good shooters with muskets at the roof… and Camero's men and the dons will be caught into the trap like rabbits.
Oh, yes, Monastario always considered himself a good strategist… Now he will have the chance to prove his value. He sighed happily, running his sight around, enjoying the picture of the cozy plaza turned into the real, bloody battlefield. He ceased abruptly, seeing that the maid didn't return to the tavern only, swirling the end of her braid, fixed in him a long gaze.
The commandante decisively strode toward the cuartel.
Passing through his office, he tossed the blade on the desk, and headed straight to his bedroom, still in the exquisite mood. That was a good day indeed, a bit of celebration to crown it would be on place… He unbuttoned his uniform and sat comfortably in the armchair, pouring himself a glass of wine, just enough for a small the toast.
To the victory, he thought triumphantly, raising the glass.
"To the truth, Capitán!" sounded laughing, familiar voice just behind him.
Luckily Monastario barely managed to wet his lips in the ruby liquid, as otherwise he would certainly choke with it. He almost dropped the glass, shoveling it violently aside, splitting the wine over the desk, turning abruptly aside to…
"Do not call your lancers," advised him calmly Zorro. "I will be outside," the bandit pointed at the window, "much sooner than anyone of them will manage to get inside," the laughter in his voice was even clearer. "And I came only to talk with you."
Monastario swirled a bit unconsciously, now searching with his eyes for the pistol he usually kept on the small table near the bed, but it wasn't there.
The Fox shook his head with reproach.
"You still underestimate me, Capitán, after all my efforts," he stated with mocking regret, tossing Monastario's pistol in the air.
"One day your foot will slip," muttered gloomily the commandante, but remained seated. He took deep breath to regain self-control and get over the nasty surprise. Having more discreetly looked around he stated with irritation that within the reach of his arm there was nothing that could serve as the weapon.
The bandit was sitting in the relaxed pose on the window frame, but Monastario couldn't see much more than the contours of his figure wrapped in the black cape. Now he realized that the room was much darker than it should be at this time of the day – because of the curtains carefully drawn at all windows, except the one the Fox was sitting in. The bandit must have done it, to grant himself the secure dusk.
I must know him, realized Monastario. That's why he is so cautious, he knows I have seen his real face and he is afraid I could recognize him, even in the mask… Oh, damn, I know him, I met him, and still…
Monastario almost sobbed with frustration. He managed to learn so much about this man, he carefully collected so many details, so many pieces of the puzzle… and still he had not the faintest idea of his identity. Nothing. Simply nothing. Not even the slightest shadow of suspicion. The commandante curled at the wave of hateful feeling of helplessness…
"What do you want?" he gnarled sharply, to cover his despair.
"Camero," replied simply the bandit. "Didn't I tell you that I will help you to expose him?"
To help? Monastario felt a bit uncomfortable. He had prepared a perfect plan and was on the best way to put it into action, but certainly the Fox wouldn't appreciate its details… The commandante quickly searched for the excuse to get rid of the masked man.
"I don't need it. I'd sooner die than use the outlaw's help," he stated proudly.
"After our encounter in Camero's house, it doesn't sound credible," smirked Zorro. "Tell me, Capitán, what has changed? What happened?" he asked curiously and continued with mocking, impudent grin: "Have you made a deal with the magistrado? Or maybe you got scared of him? And now he is giving you orders? And you are obeying, like the rest of his mercenaries? Like a… puppet?"
"How… how dare you! You have no idea what you are talking about, you fool!" choked Monastario, short of breath with fury. "I am not scared of this jester! I will get him, and make him pay for his impudence, and everyone else who would step against me, his men, and the council, and this whole damn pueblo! I will…" the commandante silenced abruptly, chilled with realization that he had just said too much.
"Ah. I see your point now," commented calmly the Fox.
Monastario sat quiet, abashed and angry, his thoughts too disturbed with turmoil of anxiety – if not panic – to find any reasonable answer.
"You want to sentence the council for aiding the criminal," stated Zorro and Monastario understood that no lie would mislead him now. "Do you know what this means?" continued the bandit. "You will have nothing else but a civil war at the pueblo."
"I will do anything necessary to fulfill my duties and protect…" started the commandante, but the bandit just spoke sharply:
"And what if you fail? If something goes wrong? Or if this Camero is not a leader, but only another agent, and the true danger is still to appear? How will you fight it, if you hostile the whole pueblo and get rid of all the landowners who could help you?"
"Stay out of this and enjoy that you yourself are still alive," muttered Monastario, unable to deafen the unpleasant reflection, that there might be some consequences of his plan he didn't think about. If the end of Camero won't bring the end of this mysterious feather-conspiracy, perhaps it would be indeed better to… but no, he didn't want even to consider it. His plan was too beautiful, too perfect to resign from it.
"Stay out of this, bandido," he repeated only with a menace in his voice.
"Consider the lesser evil, Capitán," stated Zorro more quietly and seriously than even before. "I did, and I am ready to help you in fighting them. These men pose an uncommon threat… But my price is safety for all citizens of the pueblo."
Monastario grimaced at the idea that the bandit considered him to be lesser… danger. Well he will show him! And that this masker dares to dictate some terms!
The Fox must have read this thought from his face, as he shook his head with a sigh.
"The council – these men don't deserve it. You know that. They are not traitors," he said even quieter than before and there was something pleading in his voice. "Reconsider it, Capitán. There is still time… to mend everything."
Monastario for a moment blinked surprised with this new tone in the bandit's voice. This damn Fox never before spoke like this… and never before he spoke so much. So he really… cared… and these people indeed weren't… traitors… Well. Zorro's anxiety was the best proof how close to the victory Monastario was. He won't deter.
"You are so protective about them!" he exclaimed, trying to mask his doubts with irony. "I already know that you are not some common vagabond or vaquero… You wouldn't like to see your friends, your relatives, in troubles? Tell me, who are you most concerned about and for the sake of our acquaintance I will offer them… special treatment," the commandante grinned maliciously. He hoped to tease the impudent bandit a little, to force him to finally show some fear… but he was totally unprepared for Zorro's answer.
"Abandon you plan against them, whatever it is, and I will not trouble you anymore. I will help you to get rid of Camero and then you will hear no more of me."
Monastario stared at the black clad man in disbelief and Zorro shifted a little, with a nonchalant bow:
"You see, Capitán, how pretty things may end?" he stated with laughter, but this time it was more nostalgic than mocking. "You will be the hero. You will get rid of the dangerous cheater, of the treacherous conspiracy… And there will be no black shadow to tamper with your career anymore. Probably you will be promoted…" said the Fox temptingly, but Monastario was too stunned with the bandit's offer to think about possible progress in his career.
Was he really ready to… give up? El Zorro, the elusive and… damn, the invincible Fox? To resign from his crusade against the commandante?
Oh, but that was the last thing Monastario wanted!
"Now you underestimate me, Fox…" he replied slowly, letting the most unpleasant secrets of his soul show on his face. "I do not seek… a truce. I will get rid of all my enemies, one by one. These fools from the council are first, your time will come later. In the meantime, you can watch your friends die."
El Zorro looked at him, straight at him, and even if the mask concealed his face, Monastario felt that his expression darkened. For a moment, through the commandante's mind crossed unsettling associations about crossing the limits and the picture of the dead man in the smithy blurred in front of him – but then the Fox just straightened, relaxed and impudent as usual, the cocky grin returning to his face:
"You are mistaken, Capitán. I can do much more."
Monastario realized that the Fox accepted his refusal and their negotiations were finished. For one short, fleeting moment all his previous exhilaration and confidence was gone and he felt unexpected regret – and fear, fear that he was doing something very wrong, something bound to end very badly.
For one short, fleeting moment, he almost wanted to call to the bandit to stay. It is still not too late, passed through his mind, I just have to tell him I accept his offer.
But his pride was stronger than his fear and bad premonitions, and he just sat motionless and silent, watching how Zorro unloaded his pistol, tossed it aside and set the window ajar.
Just before jumping out, the Fox leant back into the room:
"You forced me to do it the hard way, do not blame me for the consequences. I am afraid that the events may take quite… unpredictable direction now," he stated with the most flashing smile and saluted Monastario, just before disappearing in the darkness.