I did not understand then that the two Americans who had seemed in such control the previous night believed that they did not have long to work out how they could best influence the outcome of the next general election. They had, I knew, just arrived. They spoke some Spanish—I was always unclear as to how much Spanish they spoke or understood—which meant that they could read the newspapers and make sense of what was being said on radio and television; they could discuss the future with people in power and people who sought power. They knew just enough to speculate. They knew the questions to ask. They had been briefed by sociologists and political scientists. They knew they should be concerned about the relationship between the provinces and the city, between labor and the nationalists. But what they feared most was that somewhere in the city, or deep in the interior, a number of men in a room held the key to the future. They were desperate to control, or understand, or feel part of such a new movement.

I do not know how many other people they saw regularly during this time, as they saw me. Also, I do not know if everything they did, every gesture and word, was calculated to help them in their work. I like to think that there were days and moments when they were led astray, when they succumbed to things which were not part of their original agenda. They were the first real foreigners I had ever met. I watched them closely, maybe too closely, and I may have misunderstood much about them.

“So what have you been doing?” Susan Ford asked me.

“Thank you for the party,” I said.

“I’d like to see you soon.”

“I’m free, mostly,” I said.

“What about tomorrow, are you free in the afternoon?”

“Yes, I am.”

There was silence for a few moments. I could hear her flicking through the pages of a diary.

“Two thirty? Maybe three? What about the Carlton Hotel? The lobby is usually quiet at that time.”

“Let’s meet there,” I said.

SHE WORE A yellow dress and a black jacket and a black band on her hair. She arrived late and when I stood up she greeted me with a fondness and a familiarity which suggested that she had known me for years.

“I like sneaking out of the house during the day. Nobody knows where I am. The city is lovely, really lovely. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do,” I said. I could not think of anything else to say.

She smiled at the waiter as though she knew him too, and ordered tea with lemon for us both.