For All Nails #208: The Merchant of Guadalajara
by Johnny Pez
- Angel Island, California, USM
- 24 January 1975
"So," said Joan Kahn as Timothy Liddy let himself into their hotel room, "what did the coroner's office have to say about their Juan Valdez?" FN1 She was reclining on the sofa, looking at him over the back.
"No conclusions," Liddy answered. "Fingerprints gone, lower jaw gone. Based on what's left of the upper jaw, they can neither prove nor disprove that it's our boy."
"That's about the size of it," said Liddy.
"You know, Tim," said Kahn, "it occurs to me that the CBI probably had an enormous file on Mercator."
"Oh, Vincent had a whole room all to himself," Liddy assured her. "Two rooms, actually. One held all the files, and the other was an exact replica of his office at Coyoacán."
Kahn nodded her understanding. "The better to allow you and your agents to think like him."
"Exactly," said Liddy. There was an odd -- something -- about his voice, though, that belied his casual attitude.
"Just how far back did your files on him go, anyway?" Kahn wondered. "Back to his days as a garrison commander? Back to his days in the Presidential Guard? Back to his days as a lawyer?"
This time, Liddy didn't answer. Instead he said, "You've got something on your mind, haven't you?"
"Unless you count those border clashes a few years back," said Liddy.
"Oh, I know all about those border clashes," Kahn responded. "I know that they all started on the Mexican side of the border, never on the CNA side. As though someone in the CNA were trying to provoke Mercator into doing something rash -- something that would justify an atomic response."
"I didn't know you'd gone back into the conspiracy theory business," said Liddy.
"I never stopped. It's just that for the last few months, I've been working on someone else's conspiracy theory. The one where Vincent Mercator is a deadly threat to the CNA, and always has been."
"He was certainly a threat to your boss," Liddy pointed out.
"I've been thinking about that, too." Kahn suspected that she sounded demented. That was all right. The more demented she sounded, the better. "Obviously, the documents I gave Osterman at the airpark found their way into Moctezuma's hands. That's what set off the impeachment crisis, after all. So why would Mercator bother trying to steal the copies in New York?
"And did you ever notice how Felipe and Astrid would go all quiet whenever I mentioned Steven? I didn't understand then, but I do now. It wasn't Mercator who shot Steven and burned down the Justice Press, it was Kramer Associates, and Felipe and Astrid knew it. Did you?"
Liddy remained silent.
"Not that that really matters," Kahn continued. "If Mercator didn't kill Steven, he certainly killed plenty of other people. But, you know? He killed dozens of Mexicans, and thousands of Indonesians and Australians and Taiwanese, but to the best of my knowledge, he never, ever, killed a single Tory."
"Unless you count Stephen Urquell," Liddy pointed out.
"Who was, as you've pointed out to me on countless occasions, a traitor to the CNA who deserved to die. And so Vincent Mercator killed him."
"Because Mercator was working for the CNA the whole time," Liddy said with a mocking smile.
"He certainly didn't act like an enemy. Mason always insisted the CNA had nothing to fear from Mercator. At the time, it must have sounded crazy, but as it turned out, he was right. Mercator could have conquered the CNA any time between 1953 and 1962, but he didn't. Maybe Mason wasn't crazy. Maybe he knew something about Mercator that nobody else did. Maybe he knew that Mercator was a CBI agent."
"Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?" Liddy asked.
Kahn nodded. "It sounds completely insane. Until you start to look at it objectively. He never attacked us, even when he had us completely outgunned. He never allowed himself to be provoked by anything we did to Mexico. And have you ever noticed that 'Mercator' isn't a real name? It's actually the Latin word for 'merchant'. Mercator said it came from a German ancestor who worked as a peddler. I think it was just a joke that had to be explained away after he became a national figure."
Kahn blinked. She was letting herself get sidetracked. "Anyway, I guess what I'm really asking is whether you'd like to either confirm or deny my suspicions, based on any knowledge you might have as a former director of the CBI."
"If I deny it," Liddy wondered, "do you plan to shoot me?"
Oh, so he knew about the gun, did he? Oh, well. Kahn raised her right hand above the back of the sofa to show him the .38 caliber pistol she had pointed at him, and answered, "No, this is just some insurance for me. Feel free to say yes or no, whichever you prefer."
After a moment's pause, Liddy said, "Yes, he was with the CBI. He sent us his resignation a week before he seized power."
Kahn frowned slightly. "Damn. I have no idea whether you're telling me the truth or not." He might be telling her the truth, or he might be telling her what she wanted to hear. With Liddy, you could never be certain. Sighing, she motioned him away from the door, then rose from the sofa, calmly walked over and let herself out. Then she ran down the corridor to the stairwell and flew down four flights of stairs to the exit at the bottom.
As she emerged from the hotel, Kahn absently thumbed the pistol's safety on and stuck it into the waistband of her trousers, then buttoned her jacket over it. Back in the CNA you could get 20 years for carrying a concealed handgun the way she was doing. Here in Mexico, you didn't even need a permit.
Their boat was docked half a mile away at the marina. Joan Kahn made for it at a fast walk.
Forward to FAN #209: The World is a Vampire.
Forward to 31 January 1975: Mail Call.
Forward to Joan Kahn: My Home Town.
Return to For All Nails.