The Honorary Consul

Not one of Greene's entertainments- the distinction being readily clarified in pages of speculation on the nature of God and the sullenness of prostitutes, and vice versa.

." "Then where do you suppose he is?" Doctor Plarr asked. "He is probably dead in the river or else he is hidden nearer home. What were you doing in Buenos Aires?" It was a polite question, not a police question. He was no more interested than Escobar. "I wanted to see the Ambassador about Fortnum." "Yes. What did he have to say?" "I interrupted his siesta, poor man. He said the trouble is that no one's really interested." Colonel Perez said, "I assure you I am. Yesterday I wanted to organize a thorough search of the barrio popular, but the Governor thought it too dangerous. He does not want shooting if possible. Ours has been a very quiet province up till now except for a little trouble from those third world priests. He sent me off to Buenos Aires today to talk to the Minister of the In-terior. I think the Governor hopes to delay matters. If he can postpone action long enough and we are lucky Fortnum's body may be found outside the province. No one can complain then that we acted imprudently. The blackmail will have failed. Everyone will be happy. Except myself. Even your government will be happy. I hope they will pay a pension to the widow?" "I doubt it. He was only an Honorary Consul. What did the Minister say?"
"He is not afraid of shooting, that man. We could do with more like him. He advises the Governor to go ahead whatever happens and to use troops if necessary. The President wants everything settled before the Gen-eral finishes his fishing. What else did your Ambassador say?" "He said if the papers made enough fuss . . ." "Why should they? Have you heard the afternoon radio? A BOAC plane has crashed. A hijacker let off his grenade this time. There are a hundred and sixty-seven deaths—a hundred and sixty-seven Fortnums, and one of them a film star. No, Doctor Plan, we have to admit that ours is a very small affair." "Do you want to give up then?" "Oh no—I have dealt all my life in small affairs, and I have always preferred to see them settled. Un-finished dossiers take up a lot of room. A smuggler was shot yesterday on the river, so we have been able to close his file. Somebody has stolen a hundred thousand pesos from a bedroom in the Nacional—but we have our eyes on the man. And early this morning there was a small bomb found in the church of La Cruz. A very small bomb—for we are a very quiet province—and it was set to go off at midnight when the church was empty. If it had exploded, though, it might have de-stroyed the miraculous cross—and that would have been real news in El Litoral, even if not in the Naci6n. Perhaps it may become news in any case. There are rumors already that Our Lady herself got down off her altar and defused the bomb with her own hands and the Archbishop has visited the scene. You know the cross was first saved—years before Buenos Aires even existed—when lightning killed the Indians who were going to burn it." The door of the lavatory opened. "You know my colleague Captain Velardo, doctor? I was telling the doctor about our new miracle, Ruben."
"you may laugh, but the bomb did not go off"
"I think the fuse was badly set"
"And why was the fuse badly set? How can we be sure that it was not the hand of Our Lady guiding the hand?"
"All the same I prefer to believe we are kept in the air by the engines rather than divine intervention"