A Dead Man in Barcelona (13 page)

‘Well, he flushed at that. “You don’t think I’m serious?” he said. “No, it’s not that,” I said. “I think you are serious. But you’re not serious like us.” “Because I’m not Catalan?” he said. “You can’t be,” I said. “Don’t think we’re not grateful. But in the end this is something we would kill for if we had to. And it’s not like that for you. It can’t be.” “I will show you,” he said.

‘Well, I didn’t quite know what he meant by that. He would give us more money, perhaps? But I don’t think that was what he had in mind. I think what he had in mind was what he did during Tragic Week. He went out on the streets and risked his life. Yes, I’m sure it was so that he could bear witness and perhaps stop some of the worst things from happening. That would be just the sort of Quixotic thing he would think of. But I think it was also to demonstrate that he was not afraid, that he was not some pussy-footing do-gooder, but was prepared to risk himself, like us. That he was, in a way, serious.

‘And at first when I saw him out there I didn’t mind. This will really bring home to him, I thought, what it’s all about. He will see what we suffer and what they do to us. And then, maybe his feet will warm up. Because, yes, you’re right, he was beginning to get cold feet. He wasn’t so ready with his cash. “What are you going to do with the guns,” he said, “when you get them? Kill more Ramones?” So, yes, he was beginning to get cold feet, and I thought that maybe what he saw during Tragic Week would stiffen his purpose. So I didn’t mind, I didn’t think he would be killed, of course. I didn’t even think he would be put in prison. They don’t usually put rich people in prison here, I thought they would have seen him and said, he’s not doing any harm. Just another of those do-gooding, well-meaning nuts.

‘Even when I heard that he had been put in prison, I didn’t mind. That will bring it home to him, too, I said to myself. Because our prisons are not exactly holiday homes. He’ll learn now, I thought, what the real world is like.

‘And then, Christ, when I heard that he was dead, I couldn’t believe it! Even him, I thought! Those bastards!

‘So there you are, Señor Seymour. You’ve obviously been asking around and you’ve learned a few things. And maybe Ramon sticks in your gullet a bit, as it did in Lockhart’s. But what you’ve got to realize is that this is Catalonia not England. You come from a country where life is easy. Well, it isn’t here!’

‘I came out here,’ said Seymour, ‘to find out who killed Lockhart. Not to take sides.’

‘You
do
have to take sides,’ said Ricardo. ‘That is why he died.’

‘Well, is it?’ said Seymour.

‘Is it?’ said Ricardo, taken aback.

‘Ever since I have been here,’ said Seymour, ‘people have been pushing me to take sides. That is the explanation, they said, the explanation for Lockhart’s death, the explanation for everything. Catalans, Arabs, anarchists – even the Spanish. They all invited me to take sides and often that is an explanation. But I don’t believe that it is.’

‘You don’t?’ said Ricardo. He seemed stupefied.

‘Let me put a case to you. Where your own arguments lead you, if you like. We know that Lockhart supported the Catalans. We know that he supplied money and contacts to enable them to buy guns – you, yourself, have told me this. Now we know, I think, that there was some kind of arrangement for them to be smuggled in by sea. Fishing boats would go out at night and pick them up from bigger boats lying offshore. We know that the Spanish authorities had got wind of this arrangement, and that Ramon was going to tell them more, perhaps all. And we know that Ramon was killed in order to stop that happening.

‘We know also that Lockhart did not like that. He was angry. In fact, he was very angry. So what was he going to do about it? Because he was the sort of person, so several people have told me, who translated belief into action. When he believed something, he liked to do something about it. So what might he have been going to do about this?

‘We know he had become lukewarm about the Catalan cause. He still, perhaps, believed in it and, as you say, he wanted to show you that he did, and so he went out into the streets during Tragic Week. But that was to show you that he wasn’t the man you were taking him for, just a – what was it you said? – a pussy-footing do-gooder. That, though, was a side issue. The real issue for him was what he was going to do about what he knew – that the Catalan fishermen had killed an innocent man.

‘Well, of course, one of the things he might have done was to do a Ramon. Tell what he knew. And he had quite a bit to tell – about the arms and the sources of arms, about how they were transported, in what boats, and how they were brought ashore. And doesn’t the same argument apply to Lockhart as it did to Ramon? If he told what he knew, wouldn’t a lot of people suffer?’

‘What are you saying?’ said Ricardo, a thin spot of red appearing in his cheeks.

‘Might not those who were involved have taken the same action with respect to Lockhart as they had done with respect to Ramon?’

‘Killed him?’

‘You said it.’

Ricardo rose from the table.

‘I was a friend of Lockhart’s,’ he said. ‘We were all his friends. He came to us and volunteered to help us. He did help us. I saw him out on the streets during Tragic Week. He was out there for us. Not just for us, maybe. But he was out there. When the bullets were flying. And if you think that any of us would have killed him, let me tell you, you are mistaken.’

As he turned away, Seymour said, ‘Sit down. Of course, I don’t believe that. I am putting it to you to show you where arguments can lead. If you start from one set of premises and not from another. Especially political premises. What I have found since I have been here is that people are very ready to offer you premises but less ready to consider other possibilities. And you, and the Catalans, are no different.’

* * *

As Chantale was approaching Las Ramblas, where she was to meet Seymour, a man on the other side of the street looked up and saw her, hesitated, and then came across to her. Chantale was surprised because she had thought she didn’t know any men in Barcelona. She was even more surprised because this man was an Arab and decent Arab men didn’t do this sort of thing. She began to feel alarmed. And then she recognized him. It was Hussein, Lockhart’s office manager.

‘Señora, forgive me – I did not intend to – but you were in my mind as I was walking along – that is,’ he said hastily, embarrassed, ‘Señor Lockhart was in my mind. He has been in my mind a lot lately. He was not just my employer, he was a friend, and when he died I lost more than an employer. I was very angry, and so were a lot of others. He had been a friend to us. That such a man should die like that! I was bitter against the Government. They shot us down and then they killed him.

‘But since that time there has been much talk among us and I have come to think that things were not as I had supposed. I have been deliberating whether to speak to Señor Seymour about this; but then when I saw you coming along, I realized that it would be better to speak to you first.’

‘First?’

‘Of course, Señor Seymour must know. But first I wanted to know where the family stood.’

‘The family?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why ask me?’

He stared at her. ‘But, Señora, we have all presumed – you are a member of the family, are you not?’

‘No,’ said Chantale.

The manager seemed stunned. ‘But, Señora, that cannot be! We have assumed – we have all assumed – it is not just me, Señora, it is everyone!’

‘Look,’ said Chantale, ‘I have been aware, ever since I got here, of people looking at me strangely. And someone else has said – but I have met Leila and I do not see how I resemble her.’

‘You wouldn’t. She has grown older, of course, and she is anyway smaller than you. But, Señora, even I can see the resemblance! I did not know the young Leila, I was not here when she came, I was too young. But I know the family. I am myself a distant cousin. and I would have sworn –’

‘I am
not
,’ said Chantale, ‘a member of the family.’

‘Are you sure? What is your family name?’

‘Fingari.’

‘I think there are Fingaris somewhere in the family,’ said the manager doubtfully. ‘There could be. The family is spread all along the coast. Not just in Algeria.’

‘What is the name of Leila’s family?’ demanded Chantale.

‘Lungari.’

‘Lun, Fin – I suppose it is possible. I shall have to ask my mother. But, Señor, I am only half Arab. My father was a Frenchman.’

‘But you take, if I may say so, very much after your mother. And after – as I have said, it is as if the young Leila had walked into the room. That is what they all say, all the old people – but, Señora, if I have made a mistake –’

‘You have made a mistake,’ said Chantale.

‘Then the family did not send you?’

‘No,’ said Chantale.

Hussein pounded himself on the head.

‘I have made a dreadful mistake,’ he said. ‘But so have we all!’

‘Why would the family have sent me?’ asked Chantale.

‘That – that, Señora, is what I wished to talk to Señor Seymour about.’

When Seymour appeared, they went with Hussein to his office. He seemed very perturbed and kept shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it. When they got to his office he stuck his head through the door into the inner quarters and spoke to someone and a little later they brought out a tray of cups of mint tea. Whatever the circumstances, hospitality had to be maintained.

He seemed to find it hard to begin.

‘And so – and so,’ he said at least, ‘you are not a member of the family, Señora?’

‘No,’ said Chantale firmly. ‘At least,’ she added, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘And they have not sent you?’

‘No.’

The manager was silent. Then he said, ‘In a way, that is a relief. You see, Señor Lockhart was much loved among us. He was seen as having put his life at risk during Tragic Week. For us. To see that we were not maltreated. To bear witness on our behalf. And when he died, there were calls for justice. There were calls that those who had killed him should pay the penalty.

‘But nothing happened. No one was found. No one was brought to trial. And people began to murmur. And they said, “So this is Spanish justice!” and others said, “If we cannot have Spanish justice, then let us have our own.” And then it began to be said that it wasn’t as we supposed, and that he had been killed for quite another reason.

‘In Algiers this would be seen as a family matter. And it was thought that it would be the same here. But then it was thought that perhaps his own family, since they were British, would not see the obligation. But if that was so, yet the other side of the family, Leila’s side, certainly would. But nothing happened.

‘So when you came, Señora, it was thought that the family had at last decided to take action. Many said that they should have sent a man, and others said, no, it was clever to send a woman, for no one would suspect a woman, and then when they met you, Señora, and saw that you were at home here, that you knew Spanish ways, it was said that the family had been clever, that it had picked someone who would know their way around. And when you came, Señora, with Señor Seymour, they said, this is clever too. For he will help her to find the man who did it. So people saw there was a great family design.

‘And there is another thing, too. For Leila has a brother, and he has been over here for some time. And for a long time people thought he would be the one to act for the family. But again nothing happened. So when people saw you, Señora, they thought that perhaps you had been sent to stiffen his purpose. That, perhaps, that was the design.

‘Yet, lately, there have been other rumours. That the family is divided. That Leila herself is opposed. To the family taking its own justice. Those may be the ways in Algeria, she has said, but they are not the ways in Spain. And, since we are in Spain, we should do as they do. Leave it to the Spaniards to take justice!

‘And I, myself, think that she is right. We are in Spain now and they have different ways. Besides, if she, the wife, says so, who are we to gainsay her?’

Chapter Thirteen

Looking down into the plaza they saw Nina sitting on the bench beneath the palm tree eating her lunchtime rolls.

They went down to her.

She looked up at them, with unfeigned pleasure in the case of Chantale, with indifference in Seymour’s case. He wondered about this: was it an indication of a general inclination or was it just that she saw in Chantale a kind of mother, or perhaps an elder sister? But then he thought it was probably neither, just that she liked Chantale.

‘May we?’ he said, indicating the bench.

‘Please do. I am waiting for my mother.’

Perhaps it was mother, then, thought Seymour, reverting to his previous thoughts.

‘She’ll be along in a minute.’

‘Good,’ said Seymour. ‘I’d like to talk to her.’

She looked at him curiously.

‘That’s what you like to do, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Go round talking to people?’

‘Well, I suppose –’

‘Yes,’ said Chantale, ‘he does.’

‘Actually,’ said Seymour, ‘the person I’d really like to talk to is you, Señorita.’

‘Me?’ said Nina, surprised. ‘Haven’t you talked to me already? Enough?’

‘Not enough,’ said Seymour. ‘Señorita, I come to this late and from outside. And I do still not really have a picture of what actually went on here in Tragic Week.’

‘It was terrible!’ said Nina, shuddering.

‘Soldiers?’

‘Police at first.’

‘Shooting?’

‘Later. At first it was just shouting. Then it got to stone-throwing. Then the police charging with their truncheons. But then the men fighting back, with their fists at first, but then throwing things. They ripped tiles off the houses.’

‘And where was Lockhart at this time?’

‘He was out there, walking about.’

‘Wasn’t that a foolhardy thing to do?’

‘Not at first. He stood a little to one side, so that he could see. And we knew why he was standing there like that, and everyone respected it. I think even the police respected it, for they let him stand there. There was a kind of –’ Nina hesitated –’a kind of authority about him. I felt very proud of him.’

‘And then the soldiers came?’

‘Not at once. First it was the police, and then the police were driven off. There was a pause: and then the soldiers came.’

‘Shooting?’

‘Not at once, but very soon.’

‘And your father?’

‘Ran forward to protest. But his bodyguard held him back.’

‘Yes, I heard that he had a bodyguard but I didn’t really understand it.’

‘They were Arab. I think they came from the Arab community around the docks. His manager, Hussein, had sent them. They suddenly appeared on the second day. He was surprised, I think, because he had not expected them. But after that they stood by him, even when the shooting started. They dragged him away into the houses. But then he insisted on coming out again, and they came with him. They stayed right through the day, and the night – the fighting went on through the night, this part of the town was in flames and you could see everything – and on into the next day. And then the soldiers charged, this time with bayonets, and our side got broken up, and I think it was at this point that the soldiers turned on him. I suppose they were excited and frightened and were turning on anybody. I didn’t really see what happened at this point.’

‘Because you had been injured?’

‘Yes. I got knocked down, and somebody carried me away into one of the houses. And when I came to, I looked out of the window, and saw they were still fighting. But I couldn’t see him, not any more. And someone said he’d been taken away, arrested!’

Seymour nodded.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’ve got that. The general picture. Now here’s another question and it’s a particular question. At some point the Arabs joined in?’

‘I don’t think they were there at first. But after the soldiers had broken us up, they began to spread out through the houses. I don’t know what they did, but when they got to the Arab quarter, the Arabs began fighting back. That was when it all got very bloody.’

‘And Abou appeared at this point?’

‘Abou?’

‘Do you know him? Leila’s brother.’

‘I know him, yes.’

‘Was he there?’

Nina thought. ‘Yes, he was certainly there. But – but what he was doing I do not know. He didn’t really join in the fighting. He was sort of creeping around. I think he was looking for my father. Perhaps Hussein had sent him to try and persuade my father to come away. I heard him say – I was still there then, it was just before I was knocked down – heard him say to them, the ones who were guarding him, “Where is he?” “It’s all right,” they said, “we’re looking after him.”’

‘And Abou himself?’

‘Was terrified. I don’t think he knew what was happening. His eyes were staring and he was looking around. I thought he was half mad. But then, we were all half mad.’ ‘This was just before you were knocked out?’

‘Yes. And when I came to, the square was empty, except for the bodies lying there, and I couldn’t see my father anywhere. I rushed down and went out. People kept trying to stop me. I looked around for him but I couldn’t see him. There were others looking for him, too. Do you know Manuel? He owns the café just around the corner. He was there, too, looking. I heard him ask for Lockhart. He was asking one of the bodyguard. But the man was wounded and dazed and didn’t seem to know what was going on. He said that my father had been taken away by the soldiers. “Where has he been taken?” said Manuel. And someone else said, “Yes, where has he been taken?” I remember now. It was Leila’s brother. “Yes, where has he been taken?” he said. “To the prison,” said someone. “The prison!” said Abou. Yes, I remember now, it was Abou. “Are you sure?” And he struck his head with his hand. And then he rushed off. To tell Hussein, I think.

‘Thank you,’ said Seymour.

When Nina’s mother came, they sat talking on the bench for a while, until Nina had to go back into the school. They all got up together.

Nina’s mother held out her hand to Seymour.

‘I am afraid I am going back to Gibraltar tomorrow,’ she said, ‘so I may not see you again.’

‘Oh, you may,’ said Seymour. ‘Since we shall be going over to Gibraltar tomorrow ourselves.’

‘You are?’ said Nina’s mother. ‘Perhaps you can come and visit me, then, that would be nice.’

‘It would be very nice,’ said Chantale, who had not known until now that she was going to Gibraltar.

‘I remember you saying,’ said Seymour, ‘when we talked before – or perhaps I heard you talking to the Señora in the hotel? – that you had some calico to dispose of?’

‘Yes,’ said Nina’s mother. ‘She doesn’t want it. Nor do I, really. What am I going to do with calico? You can’t do anything with it, really. Not unless you’re a boat!’

‘Well,’ said Seymour, ‘I might be able to find a use for it. Perhaps we could pick it up from you when we call?’

‘My God, he’s back!’ said a voice in the guardroom.

‘He’s come back especially to get you, Ferry!’ said another younger voice which Seymour immediately recognized.

The midshipman came out.

‘Hello, sir! Nice to see you back with us,’ he said.

‘It’s nice to be back,’ said Seymour.

‘And your lady, too, sir?’

‘In the offing,’ said Seymour.

‘Would she care to join us this evening, sir? And you? In the mess? That would give us all a lot of pleasure.’

‘I’m sure it would. However, there is somewhere else I have to visit first. The stores.’

The midshipman swallowed.

‘The stores. Right, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘This afternoon, perhaps, sir?’

‘Now.’

The midshipman squared his shoulders.

‘Right, sir. Now.’ He raised his voice. ‘Mr Ferry?’

‘Sir?’

The petty officer came hurrying out of the guardroom.

‘Mr Seymour would like to visit the stores. Now.’

‘Now, sir?’

‘Now.’

‘Things are not quite as shipshape as we would wish, sir –’

‘That’s all right.’

‘We could perhaps get things in better order by this afternoon –’

‘Now, please.’

‘Right, sir. Now.’

‘Would you like me to accompany you, sir?’ said the midshipman, loyal to his subordinates and hoping possibly to avert in some way –

‘Perhaps I could join you later? In the bar. Oh, and is there any chance, do you think, that Admiral Comber might be there?’

‘I think there’s a very good chance, sir.’

Ferry led Seymour into the stores.

‘What would you like to see, sir?’ he said despondently.

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘I just want a private word with you.’

‘Private word? Yes, sir, of course, sir.’ They went into a tiny boarded-off room.

‘Sir?’

‘Ferry,’ said Seymour, ‘how long have you been here?’

‘Been here?’

‘At Gibraltar.’

‘Ten years, sir.’

‘You will remember, then, the switch to oil?’

‘You will remember, then, ‘Big thing for us, sir.’

‘But difficult, I understand. Particularly at first. Before the big contract went through.’

‘With Anglo-Persian? That made all the difference, sir. Before that we were really scraping around. “Those bastards –” begging you pardon, sir, but that’s the way the Admiral used to talk, especially when he was referring to the Admiralty – “have got me down to two days’ supplies. More efficient like that, they say. Just in time. That’s the expression they use. But how am I supposed to fight a war on that basis?”

‘“Christ, sir,” I said, “we’re not going to fight a war, are we?” “Maybe not,” he said, “but I’ve got to be sure we’re in a position to do so. What I need is some bloody oil!” “Why don’t you try Mr Lockhart, sir?” I said. “He’s got good contacts. He’ll be able to find you some if anybody can.” “You think so, Ferry?” he says, going all thoughtful. “Dead certain, sir,” I said. “He’s got contacts all over the place. I know that because – well, I just know that, sir. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you. Mind you, he might have to cut a few corners.” “There are no corners on the sea, Ferry,” he said, giving me a wink. “Don’t you know that? At least, not as far as I am concerned.”

‘Well, maybe not as far as he was concerned. But there were as far as the Admiralty was concerned, and he got hauled over the coals. That was when he used the Language, sir. But he always had time for Mr Lockhart after that. Said he’d got him out of a hole. And the country, too. And that the bastards didn’t deserve it. Begging your pardon, sir.’

‘Why, hello, Seymour! You back? Got your lady with you?’

‘She might be joining us a bit later.’

‘Like a tot?’

‘Christ, is that a tot?’

‘Navy style, Navy style. Here’s to you. And to your inquiries. How are you getting on?’

‘Pretty well there now, sir. Just one or two small points to clear up. The irregular shipments of oil, for example.’

‘Irregular –? Never heard of it!’

‘Before the Anglo-Persian deal.’

‘I’m quite sure I’ve never heard of it.’

‘To Gibraltar. I’m not saying they weren’t needed. And this, actually, does not need to be part of my inquiries, nor of my report.’

‘It doesn’t? Have another one?’ He signalled to the barman. ‘Another one for Mr Seymour, and me. And make them a reasonable size, Edwards. None of this thimble stuff!’

‘I did, though, have a question,’ said Seymour.

‘You did?’ said the Admiral warily.

‘I can see you had to cut corners to get hold of oil. Before the Anglo-Persian deal. There was something dodgy about your arrangements with Lockhart. However, they got you the oil, and that was what counted. For you. But perhaps not for the Admiralty auditors?’

‘Bastards!’ said Admiral.

‘Yes, I’m sure. They usually are. But it put you in a tight spot afterwards from which, fortunately, you escaped.’

‘The devil looks after his own!’ said the Admiral, grinning.

‘I suspect that while the auditors found out some things, they did not find out everything.’

‘That is possible,’ acknowledged the Admiral.

‘And did not that put you in rather a spot with respect to Lockhart?’

‘How so?’

‘Well, he could have revealed what he knew.’

‘Why would he do that? He had been paid. Handsomely.’

‘Ah, but hadn’t he also, in the process, acquired – how shall I put it? – credit that he might, at some point in the future, draw on?’

‘Well, naturally –’

‘Let me put it a bit more sharply, hadn’t he got a bit of a hold on you?’

‘Let’s stick to the word “credit”, shall we?’

‘Or we could say “favours”. He had done you a favour. Might he not reasonably expect a favour back in return?’

‘That would not seem unreasonable.’

‘What was the favour that he asked?’

‘Well . . .’

‘I think I know, actually. Or can guess.’

‘You probably can, damn you, Seymour!’

‘But you tell me.’

‘Well . . .’

The Admiral finished his glass and put it down on the bar.

‘What he wanted was a touch of the Nelsons.’

‘Touch of the Nelsons?’

‘A blind eye. To certain shipments.’

‘Of arms?’

The Admiral nodded. ‘There’s a sort of informal agreement among the Big Powers in this neck of the woods that one Power doesn’t ship arms to territories of another Power.’

‘And you breached it?’

‘Not quite. We didn’t do anything ourselves. But we knew it was going on. And I guessed he had a hand in it. I knew it was for those damned Catalans that he was always so keen on. More trouble than they’re worth, in my opinion, though I’ve got a certain respect for them. But I owed him something, so when he came to me – I agreed to a judicious touch of the Nelsons. But, of course, that wasn’t the end of it.’

‘No?’

‘Not when he got killed. Because you see, I thought he might have been killed because of that. Because he’d got mixed up in it. And I didn’t like that. I felt I still owed him. So when they did nothing about it, I said, Damned if I’m going to let them get away with this! So I called in you.’

‘You think he died because of the Catalan connection?’

‘Dead sure of it!’

‘I’m not,’ said Seymour.