Chapter 3
November 21, Los Angeles, the office of de Soto.
As the door opened, de Soto didn't bother not to appear irritated.
"Don Alejandro," De Soto uttered as he placed down the quill, greeting the men walking into his office. "Don Diego,"
Just what he needed. As if it wasn't bad enough that he saw the two men strolling through the pueblo almost every day. They now came to harass him in person.
"Gentlemen, what can I do for you?"
As usual, don Alejandro took the floor while don Diego kept a low profile.
We heard about the bank robbery and came to offer our services." Informed the old don de alcalde of his reason for visiting.
"Thank you for the offer, don Alejandro. But it won't be necessary. The robbers are captured and behind bars."
Alejandro nodded approvingly. "We had heard that as well. Thanks to Zorro, from what we heard."
From the corner of his eye, de Soto saw how that silly excuse of a son nodded in agreement.
The don continued with his story. "Unfortunately, I understood from don Ricardo that only four men got captured."
"So what?! They were with four." De Soto responded with clenched jaws.
"So what?" Don Alejandro rose in anger. "Alcalde, do I need to remind you there have also been robberies in Buenaventura, San Diego, Santa Paula and in San Juan? There are rumours that it is a large group of men working together. Some commit the robberies, and the rest waits to lure pursuers into a trap. And you have not even sent lancers out to see whether those men belong to that gang!"
"You dare to question my instructions?" De Soto snarled at Alejandro as he furiously banged his fist on the desk.
Alejandro took a step closer to the desk. Smiling internally, de Soto saw Diego trying to duck behind his father, startled.
Don Alejandro clenched his teeth and said. "No, alcalde. I only think that we should be on our guard. You should send out some of your men just to make sure."
"Alcalde, alcalde, alcalde!"
Without knocking and half-stumbling, Sergeant Mendoza came crashing into the office.
"Zorro!" The sergeant gasped.
De Soto jumped to his feet. "Is he back?!"
"No, no, he..., he..." Mendoza was totally out of breath. All he was capable of was pointing outside.
Don Alejandro and don Diego rushed through the door, followed by de Soto.
De Soto remained standing in amazement under the small roof of the office. It was incredible. In the middle of the plaza stood six horses. Each horse was carrying two men sitting backwards with their hands tied. On their clothing, a Z was visible.
A small crowd had gathered to watch with interest and to whisper to each other, asking what crime these men had done. And how their local hero had managed to capture the men single-handedly. Yes, de Soto wanted to know that too.
Alejandro grinned proudly and put his hands on his waist.
He turned to de Soto, who was still watching the scene with an open mouth.
"I think you were right, señor alcalde. Indeed, it seems unnecessary to go searching for accomplices. It seems Zorro has everything under control."
Mendoza had come stumbling out, still trying to catch his breath.
De Soto barked in Mendoza's direction. "Sergeant, what is the meaning of this!?"
The sergeant struggled to get out of his words. "I don't know, mi alcalde. I think don Alejandro is right. And these men belong to the other banditos. Zorro has caught them. We found them down the road on our way back after we lost track of Zorro. We only had to bring them in."
De Soto growled. "I can see that."
From the crowd, a female person stepped forward.
She raised her chin in the air and said haughtily. "Zorro has done your work for you, alcalde! I think you should thank him."
Of course, this insult came from the mouth of the local tavern keeper.
Turning on his heels, de Soto muttered an order to Mendoza. "Get them in the jail and start to interrogate them."
Sergeant Mendoza sighed. It had just been noon, and the order from his superior meant he had no chance to go to the tavern. Something that was a great pity when the young de la Vega don was in the pueblo. Since a not-so-coincidental meeting with don Diego had earned him many free meals.
Reluctantly, the sergeant began handing out orders to the lancers to help the men off their horses and to lock them up in jail.
De Soto stomped into his office irritated. Where did Zorro get the nerve to undermine his authority? He hadn't even had the chance to order his men to comb the area surrounding the pueblo. He would have done it. Had de la Vega not distracted him. How could he ever show the peons his leadership qualities when Zorro made a fool of him over and over?
And how had that bandit managed to overpower no less than twelve men by himself while half the garrison was hot on his heels? Not to mention the fact the man had even managed to get close to the pueblo unseen for the second time in one day. De Soto hesitated. Should he, for the second time in one day, issue the order to track down and arrest the black-masked bandit? De Soto glared at the painting of Machiavelli, hoping to find an answer. What was the point?
Zorro was probably miles away from the pueblo by now and untraceable. Sighing, de Soto had to admit that it would be a waste of time and effort.
So instead, he pulled open one of the drawers of his desk and took out a letter. De Soto unfolded it and began to read the contents. You could tell from the letter was read many times. The edges started to fray.
The letter got dated over fourteen months earlier in Madrid.
How different would his life be now if he had stayed in Spain? Lately, de Soto had been wondering this more and more. He thought with nostalgia about what he had left behind in Madrid.
A few weeks ago, de Soto had discovered how quickly the world you lived in could change when a tyrant with more authority than you entered it.
De Soto did not want to be grateful for anything or anyone. And certainly not his archrival.
If you owned someone something, and you let them know you knew, you created expectations.
Everything de Soto had accomplished, he had done under his own steam. Not always fair and square. But he had done it under his own steam and without ever having to be grateful to anyone.
Yes, a few simple drunken morons. Susceptible to blackmail or did not pay attention when gambling. But was it his fault that they gave him the opportunity to cheat?
Last week, word had come from Monterey. Informing him because the de la Vega's did not press charges against him, there would be no further investigation into his actions during the days when Gilberto Risendo had placed the pueblo under military rule.
Alejandro de la Vega had openly stated that he was at peace with the fact that de Soto had shot his unknown son.
After all, Alejandro de la Vega had repeated several times de Soto had done it out of necessity to save his other son's life.
De la Vega could think all he wished to.
De Soto knew the truth of what he had thought at the time. He had committed several murders and always got away with it until this one.
The murder of Risendo had been nothing more than the easiest escape from a dire situation. De Soto had only wanted to save his own life. It had been dumb luck that Risendo had been about to send don Diego into the other world.
By shooting Risendo, de Soto had avoided the need to travel to the States as a fugitive convict. He could stay in Los Angeles and resume his old, comfortable life.
It was after Risendo had revealed himself as the son of Alejandro de la Vega.
De Soto noticed that his stomach was turning and itching. It was the uneasy feeling he had over the past few weeks. It happened at the most unexpected moments. Mostly at night. Or when in the company of the old de la Vega. It was beginning to haunt him, keeping him out of his sleep.
De Soto wished he could blame the feeling on Zorro bursting into the pueblo just when he was about to have breakfast. He knew it wasn't. It was something else.
A glimpse on his watch did tell de Soto it was well past noon. When he hurried, he could enjoy a tasty lunch in the tavern just before siesta time. De Soto weighed up whether it was worth it. With everything happening this morning, there was no doubt about what would be the talk of the day in the tavern.
Carefully, de Soto put the letter that had been lying half-forgotten on the desk back in the drawer. He straightened his uniform jacket and corrected his tie slightly. And then, at a brisk pace, he walked over to the plaza to head for the tavern, hoping it would be almost empty.
Upon entering the establishment, de Soto quickly let his eyes wander. The tavern was almost deserted. At one of the tables sat the de la Vega's and the deaf-mute servant. The men were busy talking to the owner. On the other side was the doctor enjoying his lunch.
"Alcalde." Alejandro greeted him, lifting his coffee cup. "Come sit with us. I can recommend the empanada. Señorita Victoria has outdone herself today."
The woman in question blushed slightly at hearing the compliment.
"Thank you, don Alejandro." She smiled and quickly cleared the empty plates from the table to exchange them for three large pieces of cake.
Distracted, Diego wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Alejandro said. "My dear Victoria, the truth must get told. Your cooking skills are truly phenomenal. Diego, don't you agree?" Turning to his son. Seeing the man was not paying attention. "Diego? Diego!"
"Sorry, father, did you say something?"
The old don sighed dejectedly. "I said Victoria has outdone herself. Where were you?"
"Nothing special. And I do agree, the food tasted exquisite."
De Soto sat down at the table next to one of the de la Vega's seats. Diego leaned a little backwards towards de Soto. "By the way, is what I heard true?" He asks curiously.
De Soto unfolds the napkin and places it on his lap. He utters. "I don't know what you heard."
"Merely, you have Zorro to thank for his interference. Don Carlos told us how one of those bandits held you at gunpoint and threatened to shoot if you did not hand over the contents of the safe. Weren't you scared?"
Diego relished as he watched de Soto's face slowly turn red with anger.
"Those are lies. It might have seemed that way for a bystander. I was in complete control of the situation." Victoria made a sniffing sound. "I was señorita. Had Zorro not interfered, I would have arrested those men myself."
The conversation had ended, and Victoria brought the tray loaded with dirty glassware to the kitchen.
When she returned, de Soto came back into her line of sight, and Victoria's face tightened into a grimace.
"Señor alcalde. What can I bring you?"
De Soto gave a brief nod to greet her. "Señorita, may I have a cup of coffee and two fried eggs on bread?" He had been more in the mood for an empanada, but Alejandro had quelled the desire for one.
Victoria said, "Coming right up." Walking back to her kitchen without giving the alcalde another glance.
De Soto didn't notice. He was distracted by what was happening behind Victoria's back. Don Diego had this strange facial expression, and something familiar had caught de Soto's attention.
The alcalde did not know what he was looking at. So his eyes narrowed, and he thoughtfully stroked his beard with his fingers. He saw something he had seen before. But never paid attention to it.
It was something that was making de Soto wonder about things he had dismissed as ridicilous several times.
During lunch, de Soto observed don Diego. And when he left the tavern half an hour later, de Soto had a lot to think over. Once in his office, he again pulled the letter he had read earlier that day out of the drawer and began to reread it.
Frustrated, he tossed it away. He had to think about what he had seen and what this meant.
He gazed up at the Machiavelli painting and muttered. "Could it? That would be so…, so...," De Soto started grinning. "That would be so ironic."
.
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