Dillinger - Jack Higgins [32]
'Champagne?' Dillinger said blankly. 'Here?'
'Kept especially for Lord God Almighty,' Chavasse explained. 'One of his favourite ways of publicly indicating the gap between himself and others.'
At that moment Rojas swaggered into the bar, looking as if he'd been drinking. When he saw Rivera he pulled off his hat and bowed respectfully. Rivera called him over and murmured something to him. Rojas nodded and after a moment crossed to the bar and hammered on it.
'What about some service here?'
Before Chavasse could get up, Rose appeared from the kitchen. She walked round the counter and stood facing him, hands on hips. 'In the first place lower your voice. In the second take that thing off and hang it in the hall with the others.' She pointed to the revolver strapped to his waist.
Rojas turned meekly and went outside. He came back without the revolver and she placed a bottle of tequila and a glass on the counter.
Rojas filled his glass with tequila and swallowed it down, the spirit slopping out of the corners of his mouth. Dillinger looked at Rivera, who returned his gaze coolly, filled his glass with champagne and sipped a little.
Dillinger drank some of the lukewarm beer and put the glass down firmly. 'How much is that champagne?'
'Twenty-five pesos a bottle,' Chavasse said.
Dillinger, pulled off his right boot and extracted a folded bank note from under the inner sole. He pulled the boot back on and flicked the note across to the Frenchman.
'Twenty dollars American. Will that do?'
'I should imagine so.'
'Then get a bottle and glasses. Ask Rose to join us.'
Chavasse looked at Rivera and grinned, pushed back his chair and went into the kitchen.
'There goes my mad money,' Dillinger said ruefully.
Chavasse hurried back, followed by Rose with the champagne and glasses on a tray. Suddenly everyone seemed to be laughing and there was an atmosphere of infectious gaiety. Dillinger glanced at Rivera, the Mexican returned his gaze.
'To the provider must go the honour of opening it,' Fallon said.
As Dillinger reached out, a shadow fell across the table. Rojas pushed Chavasse out of the way and wrapped a huge hand about the bottle. 'I always wanted to try this stuff.'
Dillinger grabbed the neck of the bottle firmly. 'Then go and buy your own.'
'Why should I, Yankee, when you are here to provide it for me?'
The Mexican tried to lift the bottle from the table. Dillinger exerted all his strength to keep it there. Rojas grabbed the edge of the table and tried to turn it over and Dillinger leaned his weight against it.
As Dillinger half turned in his chair, he had a glimpse of Rivera still sitting calmly on the other side of the room sipping champagne, only now there was a smile on his face and Dillinger knew that the whole thing had been arranged. Rojas imagining he was going to teach him his place on the patron's orders. Rivera intent on discovering just how good he was.
Rose took Rojas by the arm and tried to pull him away. 'Please,' she said. 'No fighting in my place.'
Rojas, his hand still on the champagne bottle, turned toward Rose and spat in her face.
Chavasse was livid. All Dillinger's repressed anger boiled up. A hard ball of fury rose in his throat, choking him. With a swift movement, he leaned back, removing his weight from the table and Rojas lost his balance, releasing his grip on the bottle as he sprawled on his hands and knees. Dillinger smashed the bottle across the back of the bull neck and stood up.
The others moved out of the way hurriedly. Rojas shook his head several times and started to get up. Dillinger snatched up his chair and smashed it across the great head and shoulders once, splintering it like matchwood.
Rose was crying, wiping her face.