John and Juan followed the man into the cellar. The sound of moaning and whimpering came from the darkness. Inside the room was a group of men, all standing around. The moaning became screaming, and a voice was heard saying, "Don't move, God damn it! Hold him still."
There, beside a table, was Dr. Villega, whom Juan had met earlier on the train, removing a bullet from the screaming man's back.
"That does it... relax, now... relax... it's all over..." Villega said soothingly to the patient. "If you'd let this infection go any longer, your widow would be paying my bill". He then turned around and recognised John. "Mallory!", he laughed, "You've hardly joined us in Mesa Verde, and already you're front page news! 'Irish dynamiter wanted for murder'", he added, showing the article to John, and giving a little "Hm?" for approval.
John directed both their attention over to Juan, who was standing shyly in the shadows.
"You have a real talent for making friends", said Villega warmly. "You know, you've stirred up a hornet's nest. I'll grant you the captain, but for now, nobody dared take a crack at foreign capitalists. Not even Pancho Villa. It seems even His Majesty's Secret Service would like to get their hands on you. Yet you are an asset to us," he continued as he walked over to John, "even if sometimes you do drink a bit too much."
"Who says I drink too much?", retorted John, as though ashamed of it.
Villega mockingly checked John's eye. "Your liver does."
"What about that one- him?", a raspy-voiced man asked, indicating Juan.
"He's alright", said Villega, "Except that when operating, he cuts deeper than I do."
"What the doctor means is that one time, we did a- we did a little work together", said Juan nervously.
"And now", said the doctor, ignoring Juan, "to our work, friends."
The men gathered around him.
"I have good news", announced Villega, straightening out a piece of paper. "In two days, Villa and Zapata with attack simultaneously from North and South. We here, like those in other cities, must begin parallel actions of harassment. Huerta's downfall is just a question of weeks. Whereas Miguel's is only a question of hours if he doesn't stop smoking", he remarked at the raspy voiced man who wouldn't stop coughing.
The other men laughed.
"Easy to say", wheezed Miguel.
"Well, we'll attack in four places at the same time", continued Villega. "Antonio, your men are to hit the city hall and the old prison. So it would be necessary to divide into two groups, one under the command of Jose. Ah, Jesus, the railway station and the marshalling yards as planned, right?" Jesus nodded sagely. "Make sure you're in position in plenty of time, in small groups so you won't attract attention", Villega went on. "Don't forget to act like ordinary travellers or railroad employees. You, Manolo and Juanito will attack the army barracks with our main forces, agreed?" Manolo agreed. "This, mind you, is their maximum point of concentration", Villega advised him, "and is the key to the success of our plan. You must create the impression of a massive attack. And if necessary, be prepared to make the final sacrifice."
As Villega was speaking, Juan got John's attention by tapping him on the shoulder. He made a motion like "Hey, let's get out of here, shall we?" John ignored him.
"The fourth and last target", said Villega "Ortega, the post office. When the enemy is busy on four fronts, we'll move against our real objective. Are we still agreeing?" he said to John. John nodded. "You'll need men", Villega told him.
"I only need one man", said John.
Dr. Villega looked perplexed. "One?"
"Si", replied John.
Villega again motioned towards Juan. "Him".
"Him?", exclaimed Juan. "Him? What is with this 'him'? 'Him' whom? 'Whom' him, ah? To do what, that's what I want to know!"
"To attack the bank", said John softly.
Finally Juan understood. They were going to be performing a mass heist of everywhere in Mesa Verde. And Juan was finally going to pull off his dream robbery.
"The bank? W-w-we-we-we'll take care of the bank. I mean, that's why we're here, so don't you worry about that.", Juan assured everyone.
"Well, what can I say? Except I hope you make it," laughed Dr. Villega.
"Me too. And him", said Juan jovially.
"Well, we'll meet again tonight, to discuss details", said Villega, closing the meeting. "I have to go now. I left a woman in labor and she can't wait till the revolution's over." This drew laughter from all Villega's friends in the room. "Tierra y libertad", the doctor greeted the men.
"Tierra y libertad!", chanted the men.
"...bertad!" echoed Juan, who had said it about half a second after they did.
"Now, go upstairs, leave one at a time, and keep out of sight", the doctor instructed as the men left. "Speaking of sight, how's your cataract?", he said conversationally to Miguel.
As the men left one by one, John and Juan hung back and waited until they had all gone.
"Well-" started John.
"Shh!" interrupted Juan. "You don't have to say anything. I understand everything", he said in a whisper. "Tierra yyyy Libertad!"
"Y libertad", said John.
The two of them drank to their good health.
Juan- as always- didn't understand a thing.
John sat and drank in the cafe, casually observing the bank from the window. He glanced at the clock. Now was the time.
He motioned silently to Napoleon waiting by the kitchen door, who signalled to Juan, who was making tortillas in the kitchen, who signalled to one of his other sons and then a third, who had gotten up to signal to little Chulo crouching by the side of the bank.
John watched as Chulo pulled a little wooden train on a string, walking up to two guards standing by the bank door, and leaning casually on the doorframe beside one of them. John held his breath as one of the soldiers started to beckon Chulo away from the bank, almost sure that the plan was going to fail. Hurriedly, he glanced at the clock to see if it was time yet.
Thank God it was. Sounds of gunshots came from off in the distance. And the guards were pre-occupied, one of them calling for the other guards from inside the bank.
This was Chulo's chance to pull the fuse out from the train and hurry back across the street to the cafe.
John let out a small sign of relief.
Everything was in a panic. Perfect.
The boy climbed in through the window. His proud father urged him, "Go".
Chulo understood and pulled the fuse until he was within John's line of sight.
"Hey. Psst, psst." he gestured to John. And without a moment's pause, John got up and went over behind the counter with a "Bravo, Chulo".
"Take it", whispered Napoleon, "Take it!"
Taking the fuse, John hooked it to a detonator.
Juan peeked over the counter at the bank. "Boy, there must- must be a lot of money in the bank, ah? Look at all the soldiers."
John handed a pack of dynamite over to Juan. "Do you know how this works?"
"Si, it's a- a short fuse", said Juan, thinking he recognised it.
"No."
"No?"
"Normal rate. Thirty seconds," explained John.
"Si, thirty seconds", repeated Juan, a little nervous.
There had been enough chaos already outside the bank. It was time for the beginning to an explosive raid. John pushed down the detonator and the bank entrance burst into flames.
The beginning of the raid was almost like how Juan had imagined it.
The Mirandas raced across the street to the bank, dodging gunfire from wounded but desperate soldiers hit by the explosion. Once inside, they were met with soldiers who shot down one of Juan's men, but themselves were killed by the invading bandit family.
They arrived in an ornate hall of polished wood and red velvet, not that different from the carriage that Juan and his sons had robbed earlier.
Another of Juan's men checked the drawers for money.
"What did you find?" called Juan.
"Nothing but scrap paper", replied the boy. He then saw a sign with an arrow pointing the vaults. "Hey, wait a minute! It's pointing down there!" A soldier came up and shot the boy in the gut. Juan returned fire and slew the soldier with his pistol.
The Mirandas were now once again under attack. Another soldier came up to investigate. Juan's sons hid by one wall, and the soldier behind the doorway.
Juan got the soldier's attention with a "Psst", before shooting him.
Yes. Save for a few losses, this was going as planned.
Juan checked to see if the coast was clear, then motioned his gang forward once he was sure it was safe.
Four more soldiers rushed forward, but the bandits shot them down with no more casualties on their own side.
Juan looked into one of the unlocked vaults. Nothing there. He shrugged, before reloading his gun and one of his own men's.
Inching closer to one of the vaults that was locked, he fired his pistol at the lock, and opened the door to find...
People.
Wait, what?
Juan didn't understand. Were they using people as currency? Since when were people worth more than money? At least, in a bank?
Well, whatever. There had to be more gold in the next vault- No. More people. What was going on here? Juan snarled with frustration.
He moved from vault to vault, expecting to find more gold, but no! Only people. Seriously, this was getting annoying.
By the time he'd gotten to the last vault, there were hundreds of men following him.
OK, fine, then. But he was going to get that gold, one way or another.
He came across a locked metal door at the end of one of the corridors. This must have been it. They wouldn't store people in there.
Juan beamed avariciously, and advanced up the small staircase towards the door. "That's the safe!", he exclaimed.
Running towards it excitedly, he tried to find a lock, but realised that it must have been locked from the inside. Time to use the thirty second dynamite. He attached two sticks to the door, and lit the fuses.
"Duck, you suckers!" he cried as he ran down the steps and hid behind a nearby brick wall.
There was a loud explosion.
Letting out a determined chuckle, Juan dashed out the door to find...
The exit? Wait, but-!
A massive crowd of men- bandits like him- raced towards the bank, blocking the path of Juan's gang.
Juan himself managed to make it down a side street, only to be grabbed on the arm by John, who was hiding behind a corner.
"Where are you goin' for chrissake?" asked John.
"I dunno. I dunno, but something's wrong", panted Juan. "I went into the bank- An' when I go in the bank there's no money, nothing."
"Oh, well, the bank and the money were transferred to Mexico City over a month ago", said John smugly. "Well, they've been using this place for a political prison ever since".
In a rage, Juan drew out his gun. He'd been tricked! John only laughed merrily.
"What do you mean, a political prison?", growled Juan.
"Ah, well I never said a thing about money, all I asked you was if you wanted to get inside", said John cheerfully. He had played Juan like a harp from hell.
"But, you know, this bank is my life! This is my dream!" cried Juan.
"Well, the reality of that", said John sweetly, "is ye just liberated a hundred and fifty patriots through sheer courage in the face of danger." He gave a dismayed and stunned Juan a friendly pat on the back, giggling like a naughty child. "Ah, yes", he said, leaning straight into Juan's ear, "Yer a grand hero of the revolution, now. ¡Viva Miranda!"
Juan turned to face John, realising the full extent of John's deceit.
"I don't want to be a hero! All I want is the money! The money!" protested Juan as citizens flocked from every corner of the street and lifted him up, praising him as the hero they assumed him to be.
"¡Viva Miranda!" bellowed John again.
"You taught me one thing!" screamed Juan as John walked away laughing.
"What?" called back John.
Juan raised a single, stubby middle finger to John. "How to get fucked!"