Winter in Madrid (70 page)

The bar door opened, letting out a smell of stale wine and cigarette smoke. Two labourers came out and walked up the hill, glancing in surprise at the quartet by the fountain. Harry and Sofia came over.

‘We mustn’t stay here,’ Harry said. ‘Can you go on?’

Bernie nodded. When he stood up it was as though he put his feet in fire; but he made himself ignore it, they were nearly there.

T
HEY WALKED
slowly on, saying little. Bernie found that despite the pain from his feet he seemed to notice everything with newly heightened senses: the sound of a dog barking, the sight of a tall tree looming up in the darkness, the smell of Barbara’s perfume; all the thousand and one things that had been kept from him since 1937.

They cleared the town, crossed the river, then walked down the long empty road to the field where the car was. It began to snow again, not heavily, little flakes that made a tiny pit-pit noise in the silence as they landed on the grass. His new clothes kept Bernie warm, their unfamiliar softness another new sensation.

‘We’re nearly there,’ Barbara whispered at length. ‘The car’s behind those trees.’

They turned through the gateway and on to the rutted track, Bernie gritting his teeth as his boots slipped on the uneven surface. Harry and Sofia walked a little ahead, Barbara was still at Bernie’s side. He saw the dim shape of a car ahead.

‘I’ll drive,’ Barbara told Harry.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. You drove us out. Bernie, if you go in the back you can stretch your legs out.’

‘All right.’ He leaned against the cold metal of the Ford as Barbara opened the driver’s door. She threw in the rucksack and slid into the passenger seat, pulling the catches that unlocked the other doors. Harry opened a rear door, smiling the old solid reassuring smile. ‘Your car, sir,’ he said. Bernie squeezed his arm.

Then Sofia raised a hand. ‘I heard something,’ she whispered. ‘In the trees.’

‘It’ll be a deer,’ Bernie said, remembering the one that had disturbed him in his hiding place.

‘Wait.’ Sofia stepped away from the car and walked slowly over to the stand of holm oaks. They sent long black shadows over the grass. The others watched her. She stopped and squinted into the branches.

‘I can’t hear anything,’ Bernie whispered. He glanced into the car. Barbara was looking over her shoulder at them questioningly.

‘Come on,’ Harry called out.

‘Yes, all right.’ Then Sofia turned away.

A
SEARCHLIGHT BEAM
lanced from the trees. The crashing rattle of a machine gun spat from the copse and Bernie saw little branches flying into the air as Sofia, caught in the searchlight, jumped and jerked as bullets tore into her. Gouts of blood flew from her small form as it crashed over and hit the ground.

Harry began running to her but Bernie grabbed his arm and with a strength he didn’t know he had left threw him against the side of the car. Harry struggled for a second, then froze as two
civiles
stepped from the trees, their black bicorn hats glinting in the searchlight. One, an older man with a hard-bitten face, pointed a heavy sub-machine gun at them with a cold, unemotional expression. The other, who was young and scared-looking, held a revolver.

Bernie found himself unable to breathe. He gasped as he tried to suck in air, still holding Harry by the shoulders. The older
civil
went and prodded Sofia’s head with his foot, grunting with satisfaction as it lolled back lifeless. Harry tried to move again but still Bernie held him, though it hurt his shoulder.

‘It’s too late,’ he said.

He turned to look into the car. Barbara was still leaning over the seat watching, her expression terrified. The
civiles
stood at a little distance, covering them, as two men in army uniform stepped into the open. One was Aranda, a smile on his handsome face. The other was thinner, older, thin strands of black hair combed across his bald head, grim satisfaction on his craggy face.

‘Maestre,’ Harry said. ‘Dear God, it’s General Maestre. Oh God, Sofia.’ His voice lurched and he began to sob helplessly.

The officers marched purposefully to them. Maestre flicked a look of contempt at Harry.

‘All of you stay where you are.’ He raised his voice. ‘Señorita Clare, get out of the car.’

Barbara stepped out. She seemed on the point of collapse; she leaned against the open door, her face stricken as she looked at Sofia’s body. Aranda smiled happily at Bernie.

‘Well, we have caught our little bird again.’

Harry stared at Maestre. ‘How did you know about this? Was it Forsyth?’

‘No.’ The minister stared at him coldly. ‘This rescue was set up by us, Señor Brett. Colonel Aranda and I are old friends, we served in Morocco together. One night at a reunion he told me of an Englishman being held at the Tierra Muerta camp, with an English girlfriend who was now in Madrid. The name rang a bell.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘We have files on anyone who was involved with the Republic and when I saw Miss Clare was passing herself off as Forsyth’s wife, my friend and I decided we could embarrass him. Today would have been a good day to bring it all to a head – there is an important meeting to do with the gold mine tomorrow.’

‘Oh, no,’ Barbara groaned.

Maestre took out a cigarette and lit it. He blew a cloud of smoke at the sky then looked at Harry again with hard concentration, as though he hated him, Bernie thought. But his voice was still quiet, urbane.

‘Although there was no gold mine in the end, was there? We know that now.’

Harry made no reply. He hardly seemed to be listening any more.
He tried again to jerk away from Bernie’s grip but Bernie held him fast, though he winced with the effort. If he tried to run they might shoot him. Maestre went on.

‘We bribed the English journalist Markby to start things off – oh, do not look so surprised, Señorita Clare, the English can be bribed too – and then Colonel Aranda arranged for one of our former guards who was unemployed in Madrid to develop things. He knew that he and his brother needed money for their mother.’

‘Luis?’ Barbara asked. ‘Luis was working for you? Oh, Christ.’

‘He and Agustín
will
be getting money to help their mother, but from us. Though we are also letting them keep the money you gave them.’ He shook his head. ‘Luis tried to get out of it a couple of times. I think deceiving you troubled both him and his brother. But we have to be hard if we are to rebuild Spain.’

Maestre began walking to and fro, his tall slim form moving in and out of the searchlight beam where more and more snowflakes whirled, a soldier reflecting on a successful campaign. The light twinkled on his polished buttons. Aranda watched him with a smile. A little way off the snow was settling on Sofia’s black coat and in her hair. Harry had stopped sobbing, he stood slumped in Bernie’s arms now.

‘We always planned to arrest you here. Forsyth doesn’t matter now and we thought of preventing the escape. But we knew you would make trouble at the embassy about the camp, Miss Clare, perhaps involve your Red Cross friends. And Señor Brett is involved too. That would embarrass Ambassador Hoare, who has already annoyed the Generalísimo because of his spying, and because the Englishman Forsyth tried to deceive him over the gold. We will catch Forsyth by the way, all the ports and borders are being watched. And we need Hoare, we need his help to keep Spain out of the war, so that the people who have always ruled Spain can take control from that Falange rabble.’

‘What are you going to do with us?’ Bernie heard a tremble in Barbara’s voice.

Maestre shrugged. ‘Keep you locked away for now. It might be most convenient for all if Piper was shot trying to escape, and you and Señor Brett were reported dead, in a car accident perhaps.’

Aranda stepped up to Maestre, his smile gone. ‘We should kill them all now,’ he said.

Maestre shook his head. ‘No. We’ll keep them locked away for now. I need to think. We have the big meeting tomorrow. But thank you, Manuel, for bringing the escape forward a day. I wanted to see them for myself.’ Maestre smiled again.

They all turned as Barbara gave a little moan and slumped to the ground. Aranda laughed. ‘The stupid whore has fainted.’ He nodded to the young
civil
. ‘Wake her up.’

The man knelt beside her. He shook her shoulder and she groaned. ‘What—’

‘You fainted,
señorita
,’ he said, surprisingly gently.

‘Oh. Oh God.’ Barbara sat up, put her hands between her knees. Bernie moved to go to her but the
civil
motioned him back with his pistol. Harry, freed from Bernie’s grasp, tottered away. He walked slowly over to Sofia’s body, bent like an old man, passing unheedingly through the searchlight beam. The
civil
with the machine gun swivelled towards him but Maestre raised a hand, watching as Harry knelt beside her. He stroked her snow-spotted hair, then looked at Maestre.

‘Why did you kill her? Why?’

‘She broke the law.’ Maestre waved a finger in a minatory way. ‘That will not be tolerated now. This disorderly people needs keeping in order and we know how to do it. Now get back to the car.’

‘Murderers,’ Harry said, stroking Sofia’s hair. ‘Murderers.’

‘And to think my daughter wanted to walk out with you,’ Maestre said. ‘You little prick. It was because of you Alfonso died.’

Barbara stood up. She leaned on the open car door, her face white. ‘Please,’ she said weakly. ‘May I sit in the car? I can’t stop shaking.’

‘She looks ill,
mi general
,’ the young
civil
said.

Maestre nodded, looking disdainfully at Barbara as she climbed inside. The young
civil
closed the door. Aranda smiled at Bernie. ‘Englishwomen, they have no guts, eh?’

Maestre grunted. ‘They are an effete, decayed people. If they could win the war we could get rid of the Falange but I wonder if they are capable of it.’

Bernie glanced round. He could see the back of Barbara’s head, trembling slightly. Harry was crouched over Sofia, sobbing, the snow settling on him too now.

‘It is time to leave,’ Maestre said. ‘You!’ he called to Harry. ‘Back to the car!’

Harry got up and walked slowly back to Bernie. Bernie took his arm and looked at him. He looked awful, his face sagging with shock.

Maestre waved to the
civil
with the pistol. ‘Go to our car. Radio your office we are coming in.’

The man saluted. ‘I will be back in a quarter of an hour,
mi general
.’ He ran off towards the road. His colleague stood motionless, the other
civil
still covering Harry and Bernie with the machine gun.

Aranda waved a finger at Bernie, his good humour restored. ‘General Maestre made a special trip from Madrid to join me here. We knew you were at the cathedral, of course; the watchman and the church authorities were in on this too. I have seen you these last weeks, Piper, waiting for your punishment for not informing for me. That was a game I played with you. Well, here is your punishment.’ He laughed. ‘Do you know, the
civiles
have had Father Eduardo pestering them, saying two women were missing, they had not arrived at the convent where they were staying. What a simpleton he is.’

B
ARBARA HADN
’
T
really fainted, although when the general talked of them being killed she almost had. That was what had given her the idea to pretend to collapse in order to get back in the car. The two officers were standing directly behind it. She guessed they wouldn’t know she could drive, few Spanish women drove. She watched the scene behind her in the mirror, trying to keep her eyes from Sofia’s body, calculating. When she saw the young
civil
go back to the trees she thought, it’s now or never. It would be a risk but she had to try. They were probably all going to be killed anyway, and she hadn’t come this far not to be able to take Bernie back with her, to share her life with him. She wouldn’t leave him to them again.

Slowly, checking in the mirror that she was unobserved, she grasped the key in the ignition. It all depended on the engine catching first time but it was a good car; it had started that morning after a whole night outside. If she reversed fast then Bernie and Harry,
leaning against the side of the car, would be pushed away; the officers would be hit, and if the
civil
with the machine gun gave her time she could swerve and get him too. She looked at the
civil
. His eyes were fixed on Harry and Bernie, his face still hard and expressionless.

She took a deep breath and quietly turned the key. The engine roared into life and she threw the car into reverse. She felt Bernie and Harry fall away, Bernie shouting ‘No!’ The older officer, the one who had taunted Harry, managed to jump aside but fell over backwards. For a split second, in the mirror, she saw an expression of outraged surprise on the face of the other officer, the colonel from the camp. Then he fell beneath the car; she heard a scream and felt a crunch as the wheels went over him.

The
civil
stood with an astonished look on his face, then he turned, raising the heavy machine gun to point at the car. But those seconds gave Barbara time to slew round; the rear corner hit the man hard and the sub-machine gun flew into the air, bouncing off the car roof with a bang as the man went down. Barbara hauled the handbrake up and jumped out, pulling the gun from her coat pocket. The engine was still running.

Harry and Bernie were picking themselves up from the grass. Harry looked stunned but Bernie was alert. ‘Look out!’ he shouted.

The
civil
was pulling himself groggily to his feet, reaching for his pistol. Barbara didn’t stop to think, she just pulled the Mauser up and fired. There was a roar and a flash and a spout of blood from the man’s chest. He pitched over backwards and lay still. She stood, shocked by what she had done. She turned to where Aranda lay under the car. He too was dead; his eyes stared unbelievingly upwards, his mouth open, white teeth bared in a final snarl of rage. A sliver of blood trickled down his chin.

‘Oh God,’ she said.