The Assignment by Per Wahlöö Page A

said. “The situation is satisfactory. I have a feeling our problems will solve themselves in the near future.”
    “How many crimes of violence have been reported during this last week?”
    “Practically none since the tragic death of General Larrinaga. Guerrilla activity in the countryside seems to be fading out. Here in the town we haven’t had any incidents worth mentioning.”
    “How do people react to police action?”
    “Very positively. In most cases with absolute confidence. The idea of the Peace Force has grown in everyone’s mind. And it’s an idea which has a certain validity. Thanks to our air patrols we have been able to cover the country districts pretty well, and our people work efficiently. Considering how quickly the force has been built up and organized, the behavior of the rank and file is astonishing. They have instructions not to use force except when absolutely necessary. As a result, the number of casualties is low and their own losses very slight.”
    “And the number of arrests?”
    “Very few too. May I—yes, I must be quite frank with you. The fact is, in view of what happened before, my men havehad orders not to be too zealous. The army’s activities, guerrilla attacks, the perpetual killing. All our activities are based on common sense and persuasion. In general, people can be talked into things, both the poor and the rich. As a result, we have in many cases turned a blind eye to illegal activities. Personally, I’m convinced that this method will lead to success more swiftly than any other.”
    Manuel Ortega liked both the man and his reasoning. It was in pleasant contrast to the negative attitude he had so far come across, and to the hysteria he had in the federal capital, in men like Zaforteza and Uribarri. He glanced at the unmoving López, and Behounek, who followed his gaze, suppressed a smile. But the glint in his brown eyes was not so easily hidden and Manuel had to draw his hand across his mouth to prevent himself from smiling.
    “I’ve been here for seven months now,” said Behounek. “It takes time to get used to this country, but one does in the end. I thought we were definitely on the road to success when this unfortunate lunatic went and shot Larrinaga.”
    “Apropros of that, when does the murderer come up for trial?”
    Behounek stared at him, and then said: “You can’t try a dead man.”
    “Dead?”
    “Do you mean you don’t know what happened? Has the government really been too cowardly to publish a true version? Didn’t you know that the assassin was court-martialed and executed less than half an hour after the murder? Anyway, you know now.”
    “Why didn’t you intervene?”
    The Chief of Police rose and said: “Because I didn’t have time. The escort officer, a lieutenant, wounded the assassin with a pistol shot and then the man was taken by the soldiers in the escort and they took him off to the barracks of the Third Infantry Regiment. He was executed there almost immediately.I went there ten minutes too late to stop it. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been able to stop it anyway.”
    “Who gave the order?”
    “General Gami personally. That way it wasn’t even illegal. General Gami is the Military Governor and after Larrinaga’s death he was in every respect the highest authority. He condemned the murder as an attack on an officer and the situation was so serious that he could apply martial law. These army people! Do you remember the old saying about act first and think afterward? Even as a policeman I must deplore the whole thing. And what an opportunity we lost for interrogating someone who might be useful! One gets cynical in one’s old age.”
    “Who was the assassin?”
    “A young worker, God knows where from. Called something quite ordinary, Pablo Gonzáles, I think. I have the information from his Communist Party card. We managed to collect what he had in his pockets before they buried him, but that was all.”
    He looked at the