Angels in Heaven

two); where was the john? (down the hall); and what time did the portero go off duty? (nine o’clock).
    Downstairs back in Don Rafael’s
office, Benny inquired if Sr. Moreno was averse to taking cash for the first
three months’ rental, plus deposit for wear and tear, as our new business
checks had not yet unfortunately been printed up at the Banco de Mejico; Sr.
Moreno seemed anything but averse. So I counted out a huge wad of pesos—the
equivalent of seven hundred dollars American—and tucked the receipt away
carefully. Then we followed Don Rafael out to the lobby to be introduced to one
Frederico Romano, the portero, who would see to the remaining details.
Then Don Rafael reluctantly took himself off, pleading urgent business
elsewhere. I never did find out who gave him the shiner.
    After some opening pleasantries, Sr.
Romano dug out of a desk drawer a set of keys for all the office doors and for
the downstairs front and back doors. As for deliveries of office furniture and
supplies, he informed us there was no service elevator as such. When suitably
forewarned, he, Frederico, would remain behind after his usual departure time,
and when the last of the tenants had left, he would hang protective matting in
the passenger elevator and take the furniture up in it. And on that amicable
note we shook hands all round and took our leave.
    “That was quick,” I said to Benny
once we were out on the street again, with me following him as he headed
briskly westward on 55th. “I thought it took years to get anything done in this
country. And so another prejudice bites the dust.” He spread his hands apart in
a gesture signifying that it was nothing. “Now what?”
    “I’d like to get a look at the
prison,” I said, “but it makes more sense, I guess, now that we got an office,
to make it look like an office. In warfare, Benny, always secure your
base—remember that. Marriage counselors never said a truer word.”
    “Sí, Supremo,” Benny said. “By chance we happen to
be going in the precise direction that in five minutes will take us to the
furniture rental place I found.”
    “Some chance,” I said. “Too bad we
couldn’t have scored a place already furnished, it would have saved me a
fortune.”
    We stopped off on the way at a fresh
fruit juice stand for some needed refreshment, and to make out our shopping
lists. The blushing señorita who took our orders squeezed right there before my
appreciative eyes seven jumbo oranges, pouring the results into a container
about the size of what soda jerks used to make milkshakes in, for which
ambrosia she presented me with a handwritten bill for thirty-two cents. What
kind of tip does a man of the world leave on a bill of thirty-two cents? Do
people tip at fruit juice stands? Even us experienced globe-trotters
occasionally come face to face with a new dilemma. As it happened, I let Benny
solve the problem, as I had my trusty memo pad out and was busy with the lists,
which Benny then took from me and wrote out again in the local lingo.
    The furniture rental was down at 63rd
and 62nd, near the market. We had to stop by the money changer again on the
way, as I was already almost out of pesos, so suddenly I was rich again. At our
destination, we handed over the first list to an underling who ran his eyes
down it and then said, "No hay problema.” What the list said was:
     
    Desk, large—1.
    Desk, small—2.
    Occasional chairs—4.
    Filing cabinets, locking—4.
    Typewriters, electric—2.
    Wastepaper baskets (if poss.)—2.
    Shredder (if poss.)—1.
    Teletype—1.
    Intercom system linking offices—1.
     
    We trailed the underling out back to
the main storeroom and together selected the items we wanted, which the
underling duly tagged. Then he and Benny haggled over prices awhile, and I
handed over yet another fortune I was pretty sure I’d never get back. What
price friendship, eh? as Kirk Douglas was reputed to have said once. Then we
settled on a price and a time that night for the delivery, and that took care
of that chore.
    Next on the agenda were office
supplies. It was one thing to have an office and another to have some furniture
for it, but the odd shred of paper scattered around and a pencil or two
wouldn’t be amiss either. So after a query from us, the underling continued in
his helpful ways by directing us to a nearby stationer, where, surprisingly, he
not only knew no one but had no relations working. Perhaps he was new in town.
    At the