"Thank you, Anna-Maria," he said. "You may go. I do not wish to be disturbed."
"Si, senor," Anna-Maria said, and left the dining room.
Three minutes later, she was back.
Jean-Paul was annoyed. He had told her he did not wish to be disturbed, and he had had just barely time enough to move a couple of slices of the beef-and it looked and smelled marvelous-to his plate, and here she was, back.
"I told you, Anna-Maria, that I didn't wish to be disturbed."
"Excuse me, senor. But there are two men here… officials."
"Officials? What kind of officials?"
"Officials, senor. From the government. They have badges."
What the hell?
"And they wish to see you, senor."
Jean-Paul rose angrily from the table, threw his napkin on it, and marched to the front door.
Two men were standing there.
"May I help you, gentlemen?"
"Are you Senor Jean-Paul Bertrand?"
"Yes, I am. And who are you?"
"I am Assistant Chief Inspector Muller of the Immigration Service," the larger of the two said. "And this is Inspector O'Fallon."
He held out his credentials.
"We are very sorry to trouble you, senor," Chief Inspector Muller said. "And at this hour of the night. And we do apologize, sir."
"What is it?"
"Do you have your passport, Senor Bertrand?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"You're sure, senor?"
"Yes, of course I'm sure. Why do you ask?"
"Senor Bertrand, as you may know, our immigration records are now computerized."
"So I've heard."
"This afternoon, Senor Bertrand, according to the computer, you attempted to enter Uruguay on a Varig flight from Rio de Janeiro."
"That's absurd!"
"The computer also says that you entered Uruguay some time ago, and have never left."
"That's true."
"What we suspect, Senor Bertrand, is that the other Senor Bertrand, who is being held in custody, is not really who he says he is. That his passport is either a forgery, or that he has somehow come into possession of your passport."