“You are a naturalist also,” Lev said. He struggled but was determined to continue the conversation in Spanish. Van left the office. “Where are these creatures?”

“Isla Pixol. It’s a coastal island, south of Veracruz.”

“A monkey does not swim. How did they become isolated?”

En isla, he said. Probably he meant, en una isla, on an island.

“It wasn’t always an island, an isthmus of rocks connected it with the mainland, but they dredged it for a shipping channel. It was during Maximilian, I think. The monkeys that had gone out there couldn’t get back.”

22 February

The jacaranda in the courtyard has put on its bloom. This purple can’t be ignored, it’s like a tree singing. The walk down Londres Street to the market is a concert: the small jacaranda on the corner hums the tuning note, then all others in the lane join in. Even Perpetua has a light in her eye, holding one hand to her flat old bosom as she takes the cucumbers out of the market basket, one by one.

From Lev’s study, the view from the end window is a solid blaze of purple. Van sits there to take dictation from the Ediphone, with his square profile framed against the window like Poseidon in a purple sea. Or some Teutonic god who causes all he touches, and the air itself, to burst into purple flames. It is not a fiction or opinion to report that he is breathtaking. Perpetua is not the only one in this house thinking of cucumbers.

1 March

Octavio apprehended a man with a repeater, in the alley. After every fresh newspaper rant on the villain residing in Coyoacán, these men show up. So far it’s only citizen-desperados vowing to protect their wives. Lev fears more sophisticated men, Communist Party operatives working under command of Stalin’s GPU. But a bullet from a barefoot soldier is no less deadly than from a well-paid one. Lorenzo sleeps in the front dining room now. Those lovely windows will have to be closed with brick. The masons have made a mess, and Van had to move into the tiny cupboard with HS, close quarters for two. Though he left his multitude of serge jackets in a trunk in the other room.

This week is too hot for early spring. And this week the household staff are banned from the front of the house due to the government officials negotiating there, late into the night. The heat in this bricked-up cloister is unbearable. Van is dismayed at being held out of the meetings, but Diego says it’s sensitive. President Cárdenas is expected here himself, to help arrange the Commission of Inquiry for Lev.

After cooking and serving supper, washing up, tidying, and sweeping, nothing is left for the staff but to sit on cots in these tiny rooms in undershorts and gob shirts, smoking panatelas, telling exaggerated stories to pass the time. It’s like being at school. These are not brotherly feelings Van inspires. Mother would say: Van is plenty rugged.

March 3

The guards spend every long evening all in one small room, breathing the same exhaled air and drinking one another’s spit from one warm jug of pulque. Playing cards for pesos, boredom games. Earlier this evening, the usual one: name your one wish if you could have it, then die tomorrow. Boys at school played this, reliably coming round to getting hands on some celebrated pair of tetas. Van from his high place added to the earnest list, “success of the Commissar’s revolution.” He was on the cot and everyone else on the floor, passing the cigarette packet. “You, Shepherd. Name yours.”

“To make something beautiful, that people would find very moving.”

“Pendejo, you do that every day in the kitchen.”

“I mean a work of art that isn’t in the toilet pot by the next day. A story, or something like that.”

“Like the murals of Rivera, commanding men to rise from their knees and fight!” Lorenzo said. Stewed or not, loyal to the cause.

“Or smaller, like the paintings she does. Something people would find…dear.”

“Querido. That’s all you want, sheepdog!”

“Our shepherd,” Van said, leaning out to pat a shaggy head as if it belonged to his dog. In front of the other men. The small dog panted.

10 March

A wire from Mr. Novack, now back in New York: he has persuaded Professor John Dewey to chair the commission of inquiry. Some American journalists will follow the story to Mexico. Diego and Lev are extremely happy, as it will give Lev opportunity to answer Stalin’s charges, for the world to hear.

Noted: That Sra. Frida, after inspecting last week’s record of events, repeats her request that it remain objective, especially with regard to the secretary Van.

April 6

Professor John Dewey of Columbia University arrived today by train from New York. He will preside over the joint Commission of Inquiry into the Charges Made Against Lev Davidovich Trotsky in the Moscow Trials. He and seven journalists will reside for the month at the San Angel Inn. The opening press conference will be there, honoring Professor Dewey’s wish for fairness and no contact with the defendant prior to hearings.

The proceedings will be held here, because of special needs for Lev’s security. The attorney for Lev’s defense, Mr. Goldman from Chicago, arrives by train tomorrow. Sandbags are being laid across Londres to close the neighborhood to traffic. Extreme publicity is expected during the trial. The Mexico City newspapers are already having a run of extras on the subject of the Villain in Our Midst.

April 10: First Session of the Joint Commission of Inquiry

Professor Dewey opened. Thanked Mexican government for its political democracy, stated no man should be condemned without a chance to defend himself. “I have devoted my life to the business of enlightening minds, in the interest of society. I accept my responsibilities in this commission for one reason: to do otherwise would be false to my life’s work.” The responsibility is to investigate charges of sabotage and sedition brought by Stalin against the defendant.

Defendant is Lev Davidovich Trotsky, b. 1879. Fought as anti-tsarist from age seventeen, led the Bolshevik Revolution, elected president of the Petrograd Soviet in 1917. Author of the manifesto of the Third International Comintern, 1919. Expelled from the Soviet Communist Party in 1927. Forced into exile in Kazakhstan at that time.

At the table with the defendant are his wife, his lawyer, and Van, who has the job of producing requested documents. At a table near it, two Americans and HS, who are to translate and record all questions posed to Lev, and his answers. A man named Glotzer (American) is official court reporter and knows a language (shorthand) that allows writing everything very fast, but only if he understands the words. So all proceedings go to English for his sake, and of course for Professor Dewey’s. Therefore HS has the duty to record and translate any questions asked or answered in Spanish.