“Well, this really has nothing to do with you, does it?” Joe said. “You’ll be in Chicago or somewhere. We will be a fond memory. You can look at your pot or your silver pin and think of us. And, Lord knows, you’ll always be grateful for your short but fascinating sojourn in Santiago.”

“Stop it, Joe,” she said.

“The Indian mysteries revealed, the firing of the clay.”

“Please stop.”

“The exotic nights with an authentic chief.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Joe, will you take them?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah. Okay, okay. It’s not that hard. It means going to El Paso and taking the trolley into Juarez. We’ll put some sunglasses on Roberto and a serape on Ben. Easy. But I won’t be able to take them through until Sunday night.”

“That’s the night of the test,” Anna said carefully. “That’s the night you’re fighting.”

“Test of what?” Roberto asked.

“The weapon,” Joe said.

“The gourd of ashes?”

“That’s the one.”

“And the ladder? You’re going to climb it to the gourd?”

“I’m not climbing anything. I’m not even going to be around for the blast. The general wants me to drive around and make sure no wild Apaches wander onto the test range. That’s why I can get away and fight. After the fight we’ll go down to the border. The trick is for you to hide out until then, and for you to get to the fight with a car.”

“A serape?” Ben muttered. He already had the manner of an emperor going into exile. “Where are you going to fight?”

“Below Socorro is a little town called Antonio. There’s just one cross street. Make a left and go half a mile to the Owl Cafe. In back of the cafe is a motel. The fight will start in the motel courtyard at eight P.M. By nine it should be over and the cars cleared out. That’s when you show up.”

“What if you can’t go?” Anna asked. “What if there’s a problem?”

Joe ignored her. “Park in the courtyard and put out your lights. Wait five minutes, no more. There’ll be MPs all over the place. If I can’t join you in five minutes, that means there’s a real problem. There won’t be, don’t worry, but in case there is, tell the driver to go back to the highway, turn south to El Paso and then put you on the trolley car. When you find a place in Juarez, call the Casa Mañana in Albuquerque and leave a message where you’re staying. If there’s a change in plan before then, I’ll tell Felix Tafoya, who seems to be just as good as a clown or at tossing lightning wands as he is pushing a broom.”

“Good.” Roberto grinned. “You figured that out.”