Medusa (6 page)

‘How do I know?' I said. ‘I'd have to see it …'

‘Exactly. That's why I want you to come over there with me. Now. Before they have time to block it up, or do whatever it is they plan to do with it. They may be working on it this minute, so if we went now …'

‘What – right in the middle of the party? I can't leave Soo, and anyway –'

‘Well, afterwards. As soon as the party is over.'

I shook my head. ‘It's quite out of the question.' And I told her the sensible thing would be to wait for daylight and then go back in with the curator from the museum or somebody from the Mayor's Office, one of the planning officials. It crossed my mind that this might have some connection with the squatters who had been sleeping in the villa Lennie was repairing, but I didn't tell her that. ‘Wait till the morning,' I said again, ‘and take one of the local authority officials in with you.'

‘No.' She stopped abruptly, standing back from me in the middle of that dancing throng staring me in the face. ‘Tonight. Please.' And then in a rush: ‘You know how
things work here, or rather don't – not always. It could be days before any official bothered to come out. They're not interested in caves and digs. A few people are, Father Pepito for instance, but none of the officials I know, not really, and I want somebody to see it
now
, before the charcoal outline of that figure is totally destroyed or the roof collapses again. Please, Mike. It's important to me.'

I'll think about it,' I said, and we went on dancing, which was a mistake with Soo in her condition. She had been watching us and she was furious, telling me I had humiliated her in front of everybody. That was after I had returned to our table and Lloyd Jones had taken Petra off to dance. It made no difference that we had only been dancing together because Petra had wanted to get me to visit the cave and see what it was she'd discovered.

‘So you're going with her. When?'

‘Oh, don't be so silly,' I said. ‘She just wants to show me a bit of a charcoal wall painting, that's all. It won't take long.'

‘When?' she repeated, and there was a hot flush on her cheeks.

‘Tonight,' I told her. ‘She wants me to go tonight.'

‘I see.' Her tone was icy, and after that she wouldn't speak to me. In the end I went over to the bar and got myself a large Soberano to chase down the wine I had been drinking. A hand gripped my elbow and I turned to find Manuela's husband, Gonzalez, beside me. ‘You come to our table for a moment if you please. The Alcalde wish to speak with you about the opening of the new
urbanización
near the lake at Albufera next month. Jorge has been asked to make the opening and he wish you to take part in it, okay?'

I was not altogether surprised that Jorge Martinez should ask me to take part in the official opening of a new
urbanización
. I was one of the founder members of an unofficial association of resident English businessmen and I had on occasions acted as spokesman when the bureaucrats
in the
ayuntiamento
had proved to be more than usually difficult over a planning application so that I knew Jorge in his official capacity as Mayor at the Mahon town hall as well as socially. In any case, since I was involved in property it was important for me to keep in with him.

In the post-Franco era, the political structure of what had become a monarchical democracy had steadily developed. The Baleares islands became one of the seventeen autonomous regions with its own elected parliament. The centre of this local government was at Palma, Mallorca. Foreign policy, finance and defence was, of course, still administered from Madrid through a Provincial Governor appointed by the ruling party. There was also a Military Governor. But Palma was over a hundred sea miles from Mahon and the comparatively recent introduction of this regional democratic autonomy had increased the importance of the local town halls and their councils, and in particular the power of the mayors who were elected by those councils. At least that's how it seemed to me, and I mention it here because I cannot help thinking that this dissemination of power may have had a bearing on what happened later.

Jorge Martinez was a lawyer, a slim man with sharp features and a way of holding his long, narrow head that suggested a cobra about to strike. He was, in fact, a very formidable little man and quite a prominent member of the ruling party, the
Partido Socialista Obrero Español
or PSOE. He had only been Alcalde in Mahon a short time, but already he had his hands firmly on the local power reins, his political sense acute. He got up as I reached the table, shook me by the hand, holding my elbow at the same time, and waved me to an empty seat opposite him. His wife was there, a dark-eyed, vivacious woman, also another lawyer and Colonel Jiménez of the
Guardia Civil
. Gonzalez topped up my glass with more brandy.

The Alcalde not only wanted me to attend the opening, but would I make a speech? ‘Five, ten minutes, what you
like, Mr Steele.' And he smiled, his use of the English address rather than the Spanish
señor
quite deliberate. ‘You are very much known in your community and you will comprehend that here in Menorca we have problems – political problems arising from all the villa people. Not those who come to end their lifes here, but the summer migration. It is a question of the environment. So you speak about that, hah?'

He stopped there, waiting for some acknowledgement, and when I made no comment he said brusquely, ‘You speak about the regulations the developers are agreeing to. Also you say this
urbanización
is a good developing; it is small, villas not too close, the environment of Albufera acknowledged, and it is good for our island. It brings work, it brings money, some foreign currency. Okay? You speak first in Spanish, then in English, so very short speaking, but the political point made very clear.' And he added, ‘I am informed you always have good co-operation with my officials at the
ayuntiamento
. So you agree, hah?'

He had that explosive way of asking a question and insisting on agreement at the same time. In any case, when you have had a few drinks, and the commitment is over two weeks away, it is easier to say yes than to think up some convincing excuse on the spur of the moment. ‘
Bueno, bueno
.' He smiled, a glint of gold teeth. ‘So nice to talk with you, señor.' I was dismissed, and I left the table with the feeling that if I had declined his invitation he would have seen to it that next time I needed a permit for something from the Mahon town hall it would not be forthcoming. But a speech in Spanish – or did he mean the local Catalan, which is very different? In any case, my Spanish was a hybrid of the two, having been picked up quite haphazardly as occasion demanded.

Somebody had thrown a pile of furze on the fire, the band half-drowned in the crackle of the flames. Florez passed, light on his feet, the young woman in his arms glittering with tinsel, the button eyes in his round face
fixed on the table I had just left as though watching for an opportunity to ingratiate himself. I went back to the bar and stood there watching the shadows of the dancers moving against the limestone roofing and the far recesses of the great cavern. The dancers themselves were a flicker of fire-red images, the whole scene so lurid and theatrical that it seemed almost grotesque, the band thumping out a brazen cacophony of sound that ricocheted off the stone walls, the beat so magnified it almost split one's ears.

‘Manuela has a good idea, no?' a voice shouted in my ear. It was the Commander of the Naval Base. ‘Why does nobody think to use this place before? It is magnificent, eh?'

The music stopped abruptly, the dancers coming to a halt. Floodlights either side of the cavern entrance were switched on, spotlighting white-capped cooks and the charcoal fires with their steaming pans of soup and steaks sizzling and flaming on the coals. Lloyd Jones had stopped quite near us and I hailed him over. ‘I'd like you to meet Fernando Perez,' I said. ‘He's
Jefe
of the Navy here.' I introduced him as Lieutenant Lloyd Jones of the Royal Navy, adding, ‘That's right, isn't it?'

I sensed a moment's hesitancy. ‘In fact, I'm now a Lieutenant Commander.' He laughed, a little embarrassed. ‘I've just been promoted.'

We offered him our congratulations and Perez asked him what he was doing in Menorca. ‘You are on leave per'aps?' He had a good command of English, particularly sea terminology, having had a short exchange posting to an RN carrier, though quite why they sent him to an aircraft carrier when he was a gunnery officer I don't know.

‘Yes, on leave,' Lloyd Jones said.

‘You have a ship, or are you posting ashore, like me?' And Fernando Perez gave a deprecatory little smile.

‘No, I'm very lucky,' Lloyd Jones replied. ‘With the promotion I've been offered a ship.'

‘And where is that?'

‘I'll be joining at Gibraltar as soon as my leave is up.'

Fernando turned down the corners of his mouth. ‘You are indeed fortunate. Except for the Americans, who have so many ships, like the Russians, all our navies are in the same boat, eh?' He smiled, looking pleased at having achieved a touch of humour in a foreign language. ‘Myself, I do not have a ship since five, no six years now. Already I have been ‘ere three, stuck on a little island where nothing ever happen.'

‘But at least you have the biggest guns in the Mediterranean,' I said.

‘That is true. But what use are they, those big guns? They belong to another age and we have so few ammunition … Well, you know yourself. We fire them once a year and everybody complain because windows are shaken all over Mahon, some broken.'

‘Are these the guns out on the northern arm of the Mahon entrance?' Lloyd Jones asked.

‘On La Mola, yes. If you wish I take you to look at them. It is a
Zona Militar
, a prohibited area, but there is nothing secret about those guns, they ‘ave been there too long. Everybody know about them.'

They started talking then about the problems of island defence and after a while I left them to see that the girls were being looked after, Soo in particular. I didn't want her standing in the queue and maybe getting jostled. In any case, she was becoming a little self-conscious about her figure, I think because all our friends knew very well she had lost the first. But she was no longer at our table. She was at Manuela's. Petra, too, and they had already finished their soup and were tucking into steak and mashed potato, Gonzalez Renato sitting between them and everybody at the table flushed with wine and talking animatedly.

I went to get myself some food then and Miguel joined me in the line-up for the barbecue. He had his cousin with him, both of them in dark suits, their hair oiled and their
faces so scrubbed and clean I hardly recognised them. They hadn't booked a table so I took them to mine. They had their wives with them, Miguel's a large, very vivacious woman with beautiful skin and eyes, Antoni's a small, youngish girl with plump breasts and enormous dark eyes that seemed to watch me all the time. I think she was nervous. I danced with her once. She moved most beautifully, very light on her feet, but she never said a word.

It was as I took her back to the table that I saw Soo dancing with Lloyd Jones. She shouldn't really have been dancing at all, but by then I'd had a lot to drink and I didn't care. Petra joined me and we danced together for the rest of the evening, and whenever I saw Soo she was with the Navy, looking flushed and happy, and talking hard.

At midnight the band stopped playing and Manuela lit the train that set the fireworks crackling. It was a short display and afterwards everybody began to drift off home. That was when Petra announced that I was going to drive her over to Cales Coves.

I should have refused, but the moon was high, the night so beautiful, and I was curious. I did make some effort to discourage her. ‘It's almost midnight,' I said. Too late to go messing around in those caves in the dark. And you're not dressed for it.'

‘That's soon remedied,' she said. ‘Oh, come on. You promised.'

‘I did no such thing,' I told her, but she had already turned to Soo, who was standing there with Lloyd Jones close beside her. ‘Why don't you come, too – both of you?' And she added, it'll be fun, going there now. The moon's almost full. It'll be quite light. Anyway, it won't matter in the cave itself. If it were broad daylight we'd still need torches.'

I thought Soo would be furious, but instead, she seemed to accept it. Maybe the two of them had already talked about it when they had gone off together to the girls' latrine at the end of the meal. At any rate, she didn't say
anything. She had hold of Lloyd Jones's arm and seemed in a much happier frame of mind, humming to herself as we walked down the grass-grown track to the road where I'd left the car.

There was no wind, the sky clear and the moon a white eye high in the sky as I turned the car off the Villa Carlos road on to the steep descent to Cala Figuera. ‘Have you ever seen anything so beautiful!' Petra exclaimed. ‘I love it when it's still, like this, nothing stirring on the water, and Mahon a white sprawl above it. Sometimes I wake up in the night and pull back the tent flap. It looks like an Arab town then, so white, and everything reflected in the water. It's so beautiful.'

‘Malta is better,' Soo cut in. ‘What do you think, Gareth? You've just come from there.' She was sitting in the back with him. ‘The buildings are so much more impressive, so solid. You haven't seen Malta, have you, Petra? Compared with Valetta and Grand Harbour – well, you can't compare them, can you, Gareth? Mahon is just a little provincial port.'

‘But still beautiful.' Petra's tone, though insistent, was quite relaxed. ‘And from Bloody Island I can see the whole sweep of it.'

‘I don't think beautiful is the right word for a port,' Lloyd Jones said. ‘Not for Malta anyway.' Out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn to Soo. ‘Impressive now. I think impressive is the word. Those old strongholds, the great castles of the Knights that withstood the Turks and the German bombs.' And he added, ‘But Gozo – Gozo is different somehow. I took a boat out to Gozo. That really is beautiful.'