Rolltown

Aftermath

The Secretária de Defensa Nacional colonel said courteously, “Your arrest was a technicality, of course. You are free to go at any time you wish, Senor Hardin. But, after all, several of our nationals were killed, including Caesar Munoz and his son, José.”

“And several of our own citizens, Colonel,” Bat Hardin said softly.

“Yes, including one that you killed yourselves, this Manuel Chauvez.”

“He was caught signaling Don Caesar’s son,” Bat said. “He tried to resist arrest and Mr. Robertson was forced to shoot him. Evidently, he had what amounted to a mania against his employer and against Americans in general.”

The colonel gestured to the TV screen on his desk. “As I said, your arrest was a technicality; however, to double check on you I secured your dossier from your American National Data Banks. Purely routine. Your record, I am pleased to see, is impeccable.”

Bat said, “I should congratulate you people on the speed with which you came to our assistance. I was unconscious at the time but I understand that the helicopters were there in less than fifteen minutes.”

The colonel nodded. “You see, we were aware of Caesar Munoz’s activities and his group was under observation. We knew they had desperate plans but weren’t exactly sure what they were. Nevertheless, we had a sizable force on continual alert. Frankly, we were astonished at the magnitude of the attempt. Thank God he has failed.”

Bat said unhappily, while gnawing at his lip, “Are you so sure that he has? What will happen when this affair hits the newspaper headlines?”

“It will not hit the headlines, Senor Hardin. The Mexican and United States governments are cooperating to suppress the account. We are aware of the problems brought on by the mobile towns, but Don Caesar’s solution was not the correct one. He was trying to turn the wheels of time backward. It can’t be done. Yesterday will never be with us again, whether we wish it to be or not.”

“What is the solution?”

The colonel shrugged in a Latin gesture. “Perhaps I do not know. Perhaps it is more rapid progress for Mexico so that we, in turn, became an affluent society.” He laughed abruptly. “You would be surprised, Senor Hardin, how rapidly the spread of mobile homes is coming to our country. We already have several mobile resort towns, some of which cross periodically to the United States. And, to the south, Guatemala has recently complained of the large number of Mexican homes and trailers that are flooding that country.”

Bat came to his feet. “I should be going. New Woodstock is scheduled to head south today. All repairs have been completed. We must thank the Mexican government again, for taking on all expenses involved.”

“Certainly it was the only possible thing for us to do.” the colonel said, coming to his feet and extending his hand to be shaken.

He said, “Would you mind answering one question, Senor Hardin?”

Bat looked at him quizzically.

The colonel said, “I went over the details of the whole unfortunate affair. I must say, I admired your measures. I am sure Don’ Caesar never expected such a valiant defense.”

“Thanks,” Bat said.

“As a police officer myself, I find I am somewhat surprised that your talents are hidden away in such a small town as New Woodstock. Your war record is impressive.” He gestured at Bat’s dossier still in the screen on his desk phone. “Have you never considered attending one of your American police schools and then securing a position in one of your larger cities?”

Bat said evenly, “I’m not eligible.”

The colonel frowned puzzlement. “But why?”

“My I.Q. is not adequate.”

“Not adequate! We do not use the same system here in Mexico but I was under the impression that an I.Q. of 132 was quite superior.”

“My I.Q. is 93, Colonel.”

Frowning still, the colonel looked down at the dossier. “It says here, 132. You seem to have made some sort of a mistake, Senor Hardin.”

Bat Hardin stood silently for a long moment. Then, without asking permission, he rounded the colonel’s desk and stared down at the dossier in the screen.

Finally, he said softly, “Al Castro can take over my job.”

The colonel’s eyebrows went up. “You are not continuing with the rest of your town to the south?”

“No. I’m returning to the States to find my level. Perhaps Ferd Zogbaum was correct and there are basic changes to be made in the Meritocracy, but, if so, they’ll be made from the inside, not from without.”

“I wish you luck, Senor Hardin,” the colonel said.