The Comedians Page #6

Good evening, Captain.

- I seem to see you everywhere.

- I try not to be conspicuous.

You can sit down.

I said, sit down.

- You were stopped at the door?

- No.

It just so happened

that your man was asleep.

Michel.

- Don't you feel safe here?

- I have to take precautions.

I am here with a very important foreigner.

Doesn't he feel safe,

alone with Marie Threse?

Or do you keep a guard in the bedroom?

You have a sense of humor.

I'm in favor of jokes.

They have a political value.

A release for the cowardly

and the impotent.

"Lmportant foreigner."

I thought you didn't like foreigners.

Oh, I'm offended by the color.

Like a toad's belly.

But we accept some of you,

if you are useful to the state.

You want a woman?

I will treat you to one.

That one, with the flower in her hair.

She is shy

because she thinks I am jealous.

Jealous of a putain. What absurdity.

No, thanks,

I don't need a woman at the moment.

There's a question I've been wanting

to ask you ever since this morning.

This morning?

What happened this morning?

Well, it's a little thing.

You've probably forgotten.

You stole a dead body in a coffin. Why?

I told you, I had my orders.

The people believe

the President took poor old Philipot's body

to work in the cellars of the palace.

Zombies are cheap labor.

The people are very ignorant.

It is proper for them

to fear the authorities.

So you educate them

with bogeys and bullets.

The commandant.

Why, bless my soul and buttons,

if it isn't old Brown!

- Jones!

- Well, this is a pleasant surprise!

And talking of surprises, you ought

to meet the girlfriend, Theresa somebody.

- Oh, boy!

- Marie Threse. We know each other.

Oh, you do. Oh, good-o.

Now, what's your poison?

Apparently not much variety here.

Rum and Coke, rum and 7UP,

- rum and water.

- No, thank you, Jones. I'm off.

Not just one snifter for the road

with our friend, the Captain?

Another time,

when you keep better company.

- What's wrong, old man?

- Be careful, Jones. He' s dangerous.

Dangerous?

He's eating out of my hand, old fruit.

VIP treatment for yours truly,

a red carpet spread,

a luxury suite at the Villa Crole.

Tomorrow, I have a car, my own driver.

Jones, what are you up to?

Have you never had a dream

that suddenly came true?

No, never.

Marie Threse.

I tell them I go faire pipi.

How are you, Marie Threse?

Bien, et vous?

Bien, too.

Marie Threse,

did Jones behave nicely to you?

Yes.

I liked him. I liked him a lot.

- Why?

- He made me laugh.

A general who thought it was sound

to economize tanks on the ground

said, "A couple of planes

will blow out the brains

"for ten shillings less in the pound."

What is a pound?

$2.79, at the last rate I saw.

There are no planes on this list.

My partner, Brigadier Pike,

knows where to find three jet fighters.

Out of service, of course,

but we'll need a further deposit.

My predecessor, Colonel Biche,

has already paid $300,000

into your bank in Miami.

Where are these arms?

In Miami, of course.

In a disused beef factory

rented by Brigadier Pike.

You'll find it all there

in our correspondence with Colonel Biche.

He was perfectly satisfied.

And you know

where Colonel Biche is now?

This is an undercover operation, Colonel.

There has to be trust on both sides.

For the moment, we are only interested

in whether we can trust you.

Your consul has checked the arms

with Brigadier Pike.

You have his certificate there marked "C."

We do not trust any consul very far.

These arms are no good to us

in a beef factory in Miami.

- Tricky business getting them over here.

- That is your concern, not ours.

I am sending Captain Concasseur,

Major, to Miami

to meet Brigadier Pike

and to check these arms.

Of course, we believe all is in order

for the best of reasons,

because we have your word.

I appreciate that, Colonel.

And because you stay here with us.

The President takes a special interest

in anything to do

with new defensive weapons.

No, no, no, Joseph. No eggs.

Mr. Smith is adamant

on the subject of eggs.

What about these onions?

No, no, no, we buy them better.

Mammy Dorothe.

I think

we'll put this poor old thing out to grass.

Hello, there, you take care of that.

It's seen long service.

Young Mr. Philipot write.

He want to see you.

Urgently, he say, at the old wharf.

Come.

Hello, Philipot.

- Thank you for coming.

- What happened?

Let's talk.

Okay.

All right.

- So what happened to your arm?

- They tried to get me.

My aunt has taken refuge

in the Brazilian Embassy.

I'm on the run.

What are you up to?

You're not a politician.

I want you to go to your friend,

Major Jones.

Jones? Why?

Please talk to him.

He can help us as no one else can.

Jones is as crooked as hell, Philipot.

What do I care?

I want his experience, not his honesty.

What can any of us do against the Tontons

without proper arms or training?

I'm a painter, not a soldier.

I can't lead them.

I don't even know how to use a gun.

What are you gonna offer him,

a cave with all the modern conveniences?

We have contacts in the police.

We can get him out of prison.

He's out already on his own steam.

Then offer him money.

Too late, Philipot.

He's been bought already by Papa Doc.

He can't want to be mixed up

with murderers like that.

At least speak to him.

Philipot, I'm a foreign hotel keeper.

I don't mix with politics.

- We are risking our lives for Haiti.

- It's your country.

Haiti has given you a home.

If by home, you mean a bankrupt hotel,

my mother gave it to me, not Haiti.

- She loved Haiti.

- She loved a good deal here and there.

Are you afraid?

Yes.

Yes.

You have a hope.

You carry it everywhere, like a priest

with a sacrament in his pocket.

If I had to leave Port-au-Prince,

I would leave carrying nothing.

I have no hope, and what I love is here.

A bankrupt hotel?

No, no, I didn't mean the hotel.

- Is that your last word?

- Yes.

How many men have you got

to fight the Tontons?

A dozen?

Not even that.

You said it yourself,

you're a painter, not a soldier.

Now get into safety while you can.

You were not here for the fight, were you?

Well, you missed

something rather extraordinary.

You see this cock?

I bought it just now after the fight.

One eye had gone, and it couldn't see

with the other because of the blood.

It could hardly stand.

No one would have bet $1 on its victory,

but the owner called out

to Ogoun Feraille, our god of war,

and then this cock drove its beak

straight into the breast of the other,

home to the heart.

A brave bird.

It deserves a better end than the pot.

We are meeting tonight

to pray to our gods,

and we'll sacrifice this cock

to Ogoun Feraille.

We'll have need of him from now on.

Philipot, you don't believe

in such nonsense?

- Is there no nonsense you believe in?

- No.

You're afraid to believe in anything at all.

I'm afraid of the Tontons.

I'm afraid of torture and death

like any sane man,

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