There was an electricity bill and two letters which had been delivered by hand. The writing was familiar. I thought it must be Susan’s or Donald’s and wondered why they had not contacted me at the hotel. When I opened one of them, however, I realized that it was from Jorge. I read it as I stood in the hallway. His father, he said, wanted to step up the campaign and was surprised, to say the least, that I had not been in touch. Had I made any progress with the Americans? With whom had I been in contact and with what results? He had telephoned a few times a day for the past week, he said, and had called around, but there was no sign of me. His tone was formal, as though I were an employee of his, and it struck me that his father must have stood over him as he wrote the letter. I put the other letter in my pocket and went up the stairs. When I opened the door the space inside seemed comforting. I put down my bag and went into the kitchen and glanced around at each object as though it had been specially placed there to reassure me.

The other letter had been written first; it was just a brief note asking me to contact Jorge or his father. I left it on the kitchen table and went down into the street and had a coffee in a bar. Unless Susan, Donald, or the oil economists wanted me for anything, I was free for the rest of the day. I thought that maybe I should buy something for the apartment, new sheets or towels or a new chair. I would also have to telephone Susan and ask her what I should say to Jorge’s father. Maybe, I decided, I could talk to her later in the week. I felt guilty about Jorge and his father. I had used their contacts to find work for myself and I had done nothing in return. I imagined that Jorge had tried to reach me at the school and knew that I no longer worked there. I finished my coffee and paid and went back to the apartment with a newspaper so I could check the times of the movies in the afternoon.

WHEN THE PHONE rang at eight o’clock the following morning I knew that I was taking a risk when I got out of bed to answer it. It was Jorge and I realized instantly that his father was close to him. He began by saying how hard it had been to contact me, how many times he had tried. I said nothing. The problem was that they could not send anyone else to talk to the Americans until they knew what I had been doing. Did I have any news for them, he asked me. I said that I had spoken to the Americans several times, but things were still vague. Later in the day, however, I was due to see them once more and it was very likely, I said, that things would become more concrete. And this was why I had not been in touch. Maybe, I said, if we arranged to see each other later today, or early tomorrow. I tried to sound businesslike. What time could we meet, he asked. I told him that there was no point in arranging a time until I had seen the Americans, but I would contact him later in the day. I asked where the best place to contact him was. He would be home from seven onward, he said.