The Sentinel: 1 (Vengeance of Memory) (26 page)

‘Oh yes,’ Guzmán said, taking a drink from the tray of a passing waiter, ‘he was choked.’

Peralta looked around the room. Repeated images of the killing came back to him. His palms were slick with sweat and the nausea had returned.

‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Carrero said to Guzmán. ‘The
Caudillo
will be in very soon.’

Carrero sauntered across the room, drawing upon a whole repertoire of insincerity as he moved amongst the guests, greeting everyone but avoiding conversation.

Guzmán finished his drink and reached for another as the waiter passed. He emptied the glass, all the while keeping his eyes on Carrero Blanco. ‘Cunt.’

‘Maybe you should ease up on the drink until you’ve seen the
Caudillo
, sir,’ Peralta said, instantly regretting it as he saw the change in Guzmán’s expression. Guzmán leaned forwards, his face in Peralta’s, his breath nuanced by the wide variety of drinks he had downed in the short time since they arrived.

‘Once we’re married,
Teniente
, you can talk to me like that. Until then, I advise you to go and fu—’

‘
Comandante
Guzmán,’ a shrill voice interrupted. Guzmán turned. Franco was wearing one of his many dress uniforms: tonight he was a full general, his spindly legs accentuated by riding boots.

‘
Excelencia
.’ Guzmán stood at attention.

Franco held out his hands.
Like the Pope
, Peralta thought as the dictator took both of Guzmán’s big paws and then dropped them after a cursory shake. Two sycophants stood at the
Caudillo
’s heels, fawning and smiling in unison with him.

‘It has been what, five years?’ Franco asked. ‘A long time. We’re all getting older.’

‘Yet you look so very fit,
Excelencia
,’ one of the sycophants echoed dutifully.

‘Remarkably so,’ the other added in a rapid extemporisation.

‘If you feel older,
Excelencia
, one imagines it’s because you’re carrying the cares of the country on those shoulders,’ Guzmán said solemnly. Peralta looked at him, surprised by his sudden air of gravitas. The sycophants shook their heads in disagreement.

‘You are as ever,
Comandante
, utterly to the point. And correct, of course.’ Franco beamed. ‘The weight of such responsibility wears a man down.’

‘Yet one cannot escape destiny,’ Guzmán said solemnly. ‘And belated congratulations on your first grandchild,
Excelencia
. I trust she and her mother are doing well?’

Franco allowed himself a smile and patted Guzmán on the arm. ‘Carmencita. A lovely child. And my little Nenuca, so proud and happy. Children are our gift to the future, Guzmán. You should have some.’

Guzmán smiled back. ‘If work gave me time for such pleasures,
Excelencia
, no doubt I would. But…’ He made an expansive gesture of helplessness.

Franco nodded sagely. ‘I know, Guzmán, I know. For some of us life is mapped out in our duties. My entire life is one of work and meditation.’

Those around nodded in solemn accord. Guzmán’s heavy face became heavier and more intense.
Your entire life has been spent furthering your career,
he thought.
No stone unturned in the pursuit of power, no trough you haven’t dipped your snout in. An example to us all
.

Peralta noticed Carrero Blanco hovering behind Franco. The dictator turned, enabling Carrero to mutter something into his ear without the others hearing. Franco shook his head. Carrero nodded and stepped back in an exaggeratedly formal gesture of subservience and made his way across the room to a group of men in uniform.

‘Now, Guzmán,’ Franco said, ‘a word in private if I may? Excuse us, gentlemen.’

Guzmán followed the
generalísimo
as he moved away from Peralta and the sycophants. Guzmán was aware of the envious gazes, the muttered, perplexed comments. It was hard enough for decent Christian businessmen to gain an audience with the
Caudillo
these days – unless he wanted a favour – yet this large policeman with his oiled untidy hair and his cheap suit had cornered Franco’s attention.

Standing near the buffet, Peralta observed the thinly veiled hostility of many of those around him to Guzmán’s audience with Franco. Then Peralta saw General Valverde. No thinly veiled hostility there: the general’s florid face was set in a mask of pure hatred, his hard eyes following Guzmán and the
Caudillo
with malevolent intensity as they crossed the room.

Franco stopped in a remote corner, far enough away from the crowds to ensure no one would hear their conversation. Guzmán handed his glass to one of the passing waiters, noticing how discreetly Franco’s bodyguards took up strategic positions around them without infringing upon the dictator’s conversation. Civilians would not have even noticed their positioning, Guzmán noted, seeing two of the men had a direct line of fire at him without the risk of Franco coming between Guzmán and their bullets. Very professional, Guzmán thought, approvingly.

‘You’ve noticed my faithful protectors.’ Franco smiled.

Guzmán nodded. ‘They do a very good job, Your Excellency.’

‘Sadly necessary,
Comandante
. As you in particular know, there are those who would still challenge the Head of State’s right to govern. A right bestowed by God himself and they still seek to usurp that.’

‘Quite so,’ Guzmán agreed.

‘You took care of that reprobate they called
el Profesor
?’ Franco asked.

‘Personally. As always.’

Franco’s face was deadpan as he spoke. ‘And he was specially dealt with?’

‘He was indeed,
Excelencia
.’

‘May I ask how?’ Again, no flicker of an expression that would indicate interest or, in fact, any emotion.

Guzmán shrugged. ‘I gave him a necktie.’
But then you ordered it, Excellency
.

‘With your own hands?’

‘These very hands,
Excelencia
.’

Franco raised his eyebrows. ‘Did he suffer?’

‘No more than he deserved.’

Again the cold stare. ‘Well, he’s now being judged and dealt with for all eternity. The country is all the better for his removal. You did well, Guzmán.’

‘You’re too kind,
Excelencia
. I did my job.’

‘As you always have. And we are grateful. Many these days have lost the notion of duty. Of fidelity to the cause. The cause, Guzmán. We must never let ourselves be distracted. Which is why you are so useful to us.’

I wonder when he first started using the royal ‘we,’
Guzmán thought.

‘When people forget their values,’ Franco continued, ‘when they forget their place in society, their obligations, their commitments, when they forget the natural order of things, that’s when the forces of godlessness thrive. Only the memory of what we were, what we are and what we shall be can hold the dark forces of Freemasonry, Protestantism, Libertarianism and the social cancer of democracy at bay. And you, Guzmán, play a vital part in the preservation of that memory. It’s a hard road to follow, although God knows I’ve led the way. But others must follow, and you, Guzmán, have followed loyally. You and those like you, they remind the weak and the feckless. What is history, Guzmán, but memory? And the light of that memory must constantly shine upon those who would rather forget and slink back into the darkness. Once vanquished, the beaten must always remain so.’

Guzmán nodded. Across the room, Peralta was giving them furtive glances. Further away, Valverde glared at them.

‘Loyalty has been at the heart of the Cause, Guzmán. Not all are as loyal as you. Even those who have done very well in our service, those who have most reason to remain loyal – even those at the highest level – some of them have started to forget who put them there and gave them what they have.’

Guzmán’s mind raced.
Does he mean me? No, he wouldn’t give me a speech. I’d be dealt with elsewhere. Maybe he wants someone taking care of – but then he wouldn’t ask himself
.

‘Let me be candid,’ Franco said abruptly. ‘Give me your opinion.’

‘Of course,
Excelencia
,’ Guzmán said.

‘Valverde.
Capitán-General
of Madrid. Sterling war record. But can I trust him,
Comandante
? In your opinion?’

Guzmán was not one to sweat under pressure. Yet he felt beads of perspiration around his collar.
Shit. Do I mention the Dominicans? The pharmaceutical trade? The money? Especially the money
.

‘I’m only a mere
comandante
, Excellency. It’s not for me to assess the
Caudillo
’s general staff.’

‘Enough of that, Guzmán. It’s your job, you know that. No false modesty. You’ve known me a long time. If I ask you something, it’s because I want a reply.’

Not true,
Guzmán thought.
Usually, you want the reply you thought of before asking
.

‘
Capitán-General
Valverde is an honourable man—’ he began.

‘Yes or no, Guzmán.’ Franco’s impassive face hardly moved as he said the words.

‘No.’ Guzmán said, ‘I wouldn’t trust him. But I would say that,
Excelencia
. I hardly trust anyone. For me people are guilty until proven innocent.’

Franco’s face twitched in a slight smile. ‘That maxim has served you well, Guzmán. Yes. I think it’s the way I view Valverde. He’s always been one of those people whose ambitions are far in excess of their talents.’

Pots calling kettles,
Guzmán thought. ‘Lately, he’s been very concerned about a gang of Dominicans,’ he added.

‘Dominicans?’ Franco snapped.

‘A bunch of criminals who arrived with the trade mission from the US. They seem unlikely businessmen to me. The general thinks they’re trying to interfere with his interests.’

‘Ah. I hope he isn’t thinking of doing anything that might interfere with the cordial atmosphere of the trade talks?’

‘Not that I’m aware of,
Excelencia
.’

‘If he does, Guzmán, I’ll want to know about it. We’d take a dim view of that.’

‘Of course.’

‘Has Valverde said anything about these talks? I know he strongly favours foreign investment. The problem is, I think he’d like that investment to be made to his own bank account.’

‘I know he’s a supporter of economic change and reform.’

Franco frowned. ‘That’s well known, although he’s always careful to express his opinions moderately. I would be very interested if he starts to talk about political change.’

‘The general did speak of the time when your stewardship of the nation would come to an end,’ Guzmán said.

‘Ah. And was he thinking of bringing it to an end himself?’ Franco’s mouth pursed.

‘No, not that. Just that one day you would be gone and there would be others to take your place with different ideas.’

‘Nothing more? Nothing about sedition or rebellion?’

‘No, he said nothing of treachery. But he did add that I should choose my side in advance,
Excelencia
.’

‘And did you, Guzmán?’

‘I chose it long ago,
Excelencia
. The side of right. Your side. To the death.’

Franco smiled again. ‘Of course. Excellent.’ Looking beyond Guzmán he saw Carrero Blanco making subtle gestures with his watch. Clearly some appointment was being delayed by this impromptu chat with the
comandante
. Franco looked hard at Guzmán.

‘These Dominicans. I want special surveillance on them.’

‘
Muy bien
. Permanently,
Excelencia
?’

Franco’s face betrayed a flicker of impatience. ‘It’s not a euphemism, Guzmán. Don’t kill them. We need to know why they are here. If they’re important to Valverde, they may be important to us.’

‘But we could soon find out,
Excelencia
. We’ll beat it out of them at the
comisaría
.’ Guzmán could never see a reason for taking the long way around.

Franco shook his head. ‘If they have come with the US trade delegation, Guzmán, then we must proceed carefully. We want to trade with the United States, not kill their citizens. Nothing must impede us in securing a trade agreement. Nothing. So make sure there is no trouble,
entiende
?’

Guzmán nodded. ‘Surveillance it is,
Excelencia
.’

‘Good. Well, it was a pleasure to see you again,
Comandante
. Remember what I said about kids – it’s not too late to find yourself a good woman. But until you do,’ he winked, ‘remember what I always told the military cadets when I was in charge of the Military Academy. Always carry a condom.’

‘As ever, wise advice,
Excelencia
. Thank you.’

‘
De nada
, Guzmán,’ Franco said pompously. ‘In fact, I’ll give you another bit of advice, do the football pools. I do. I enjoy them enormously.
Doña
Carmen often says I spend more time on them than affairs of state. You have to study form, you see. And you wouldn’t believe the money you can win.’ He winked. ‘Until later, Guzmán.’

A slap on the arm and then Franco was walking across the room with Carrero Blanco, giving a regal wave as he went. Guzmán was watching him leave when Peralta appeared at his side, holding two glasses of wine. Guzmán took one without being asked and drank it. He thought for a second and then took the other glass and emptied that as well.

‘I can hardly believe it,’ Peralta half laughed, ‘you and the
Caudillo
, chatting like bosom buddies. No wonder my uncle…’ He stopped.

Guzmán’s eyebrow raised in mock surprise. ‘He worries that Franco set me up in Madrid to keep an eye on him. I can’t count the number of his own men he’s had follow me round, trying to catch me plotting against him.’

‘But if you are loyal to the
Caudillo
, how could my uncle dare touch you?’

‘He wouldn’t. Not publicly. But people have accidents. Until now, I hoped he was getting a little less paranoid, but things change…’ He inclined his head, directing Peralta’s gaze to a scowling Valverde, towering above two plump colonels, his uniform ablaze with medals. Guzmán raised his glass in salute and Valverde quickly turned back to his staff officers.