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normal. Stay as you are.’
    ‘I mean, help. You said you wanted help?’
    ‘Wait. I’m thinking.’
    The sky was blue with fluffy white clouds and there was now a nip in the breeze. William buttoned his jacket by the centre button, which reminded him again of his stomach, then of Theresa. The
parrot cocked its head on one side.
    ‘You had lunch with the president?’ asked Box.
    ‘I met him while I was having lunch.’
    ‘You were with two women.’
    ‘Well, not really, but in a sense, yes.’
    ‘You bought them lunch.’
    ‘Only after they’d gone.’ William turned to the bushes again. ‘How do you know all this?’
    ‘Better not face me when you’re talking.’
    William turned away. ‘How do you know?’
    ‘The whole town knows if the president talks to anyone in public. That’s what I mean about not being seen together. In this business you have to be careful in small towns.’
There was some rustling as Box moved. ‘The president knows you from university?’
    ‘From school. I didn’t go to university.’
    ‘Never mind. Makes no difference after a year or two. Could you get to know him again, talk to him, find out what he’s thinking?’
    ‘This is the first time we’ve met since.’
    ‘And then introduce me if he’s amenable.’
    ‘What for?’
    ‘So that I could influence him.’
    William tried to imagine Box influencing Carlos. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know how he would take it.’
    ‘Don’t worry, you haven’t been with the Firm five minutes. You need experience.’ Box sounded as if he were encouraging a child. ‘Look, you’ve been in the same
place for a long time. Better move about a bit. Looks more natural. Walk slowly and I’ll keep pace. Talk as we go.’
    William turned to his right. ‘The trouble is, I’m not very likely to run into him again. I don’t think he goes very often to the market and neither do I. Well, not that often,
anyway.’
    Box’s reply was inaudible. William stopped. ‘Which way are you going?’
    ‘I’ll come to you.’ There was more rustling and movement. ‘Okay.’
    William began walking again. ‘I’m not sure how I can meet him – I mean, I can’t exactly call on him.’
    ‘Can’t you?’
    ‘Not with all those guards and generals and Cubans and whatever.’
    ‘Cubans? Were there any with him?’
    ‘No, but there was a chap who’d been trained in Cuba. I met him. His name is Manuel Herrera.’
    ‘Now we’re on to something.’
    William stopped. ‘I’m at the corner now. Shall I go on or turn round?’
    ‘Go on.’
    William turned the corner. There was a crash in the bushes and a grunt. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Wire.’
    ‘Shall I turn back?’
    ‘I’ll catch up.’
    William went on. Presently he heard a movement beside him. ‘All right now?’
    ‘What?’ The voice sounded strained.
    ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’
    The bushes parted and a stocky middle-aged man in shirt and tie stepped out. He looked red-faced and awkward, his grey hair was ruffled and there was a biro in his shirt pocket.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said William. ‘I thought you were someone else.’
    ‘I thought
you
were.’ They shook hands. The man introduced himself as Peter White. ‘I’m the ambassador here.’
    ‘I’m William Wooding.’
    William almost shook hands again but stopped himself in time. ‘I’ve just been in the embassy with . . . with some of your—’
    ‘With them?’
    Something in the ambassador’s tone made William relax. ‘Yes, with them, but it wasn’t them I came to see. I came to see a Mr Box from London. He’s in the bushes, too, but
farther down.’
    ‘Ah, the funny hush-hush business.’ The ambassador had a plain, honest, troubled face. ‘Not in there with him, are they?’
    ‘No, they’re in the embassy.’
    ‘Ah.’ The ambassador’s features cleared. ‘I was out for a stroll round the gardens. Popped in the bushes to make myself comfortable.’
    ‘Very wise.’
    ‘Helps to get out of the