SENOR COSTAS
CHALLENGE #5

TRIO: Cigar, misplaced accent, Wheel of Fortune tarot card

~~~~~

Marcus Grisham walked into Montoya's office with his usual swagger which made Montoya keep an extra eye on him. Something made him feel good today. We can't have that, Montoya thought. He had to rely on Grisham, but he hated it so after his minion almost let him die of the fever.

"Capitan," Montoya smiled at his guest then cast his eyes on his underling. "You have interrupted my meeting with Senor Costas here."

Grisham bowed and made his apologies to the lightest skinned Spaniard Montoya had ever seen, but the purpose of the meeting was too good to pass up. Grisham told Montoya, "I was told you wanted to see me." Then he added, "Sir."

"Yes, Grisham. But I didn't mean right away. Since when are you so fast?"

"Since you have someone in your office who people have told me, knows who the Queen of Swords is."

Costas nodded, puffed on the cigar that Montoya had lit for him just after they had sat down. "I was going to take this meeting alone, but since you're here..." Montoya waved his hand toward Grisham for him to stand guard and just listen. Both military men looked to the visitor for his proof, a reason why Montoya should believe him, and how much it would cost to obtain the information.

Costas just puffed on the cigar, rolling it in his fingers and blowing smoke rings. "Senor," Montoya said, fidgeting in his chair. "Any time you care to speak would be excellent. I know you have a problem with the English as you so mangled the language when you arrived. Would you prefer to speak in our native tongue, Spanish?"

Montoya thought the man was no better than a peasant, who might just be dressed in an ill-fitting suit to 'impress' him. The callouses on his hands were a dead giveaway that the man wasn't affluent. But, the prospect of finding out the true identity of the bane of his existence was enough for him to get into his office. Smoke one of his fine cigars. Montoya's patience was drawing to a close. He ordered Costas, "Hablar, ahora."

"Mas por favor," Costas said, nudging his empty scotch glass toward Montoya.

Montoya slowly shook his head, no. He wouldn't have anything more until he showed his proof that he knew who the Queen was. Finally, Costas drew a deck of cards out of his pocket. The Colonel wondered if he was supposed to draw with the quiet man. Costas laid the deck on the desk, face up. The top card was Wheel of Fortune. It was a tarot deck.

"What is that to prove?"

"A pasado uno."

Montoya leaned over his desk to pick up the deck and sift through the cards to find the one that he assumed would be missing. Sure enough, there wasn't the tarot card, Queen of Swords, among them. "What does that prove?"

Costas explained in Spanish that he had been a guest in a home and found the deck in the trash basin. "Isn't it amazing that the one card that is left as a souvenir for you, Colonel, is not in the deck."

"In who's casa were you a guest?"

"That is what will cost you reales."

Montoya smiled, enjoying the courage the fake Spaniard had to actually try to put one over on him. "Adiós, Señor Costas." To the surprise of Grisham--and to Costas--Montoya stood and drew a pistol from under his desk and shot Costas square in the chest.

Grisham jumped back against the wall. "What in God's name are you doing?!"

Montoya blew the smoke that came out of the barrel of the gun and set it on his desk. "Get some men in here and take him away. Now."

"Why did you do that?"

"He pronounced the word, re'cuerdo, not as the word should be accented. I have no time for such nonsense. If he took the pains to lie about his heritage, why wouldn't he make up a story for extortion. Take him away!"

END

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