A dead man of Barcelona

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, Senorita.’

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

‘Not enough,’ said Seymour. ‘Senorita, 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 cafe 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 Senora 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?’

‘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 said, 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.

‘Talking of Nelsons,’ said Seymour, as he turned to go, ‘you’ll remember that part of my duties was to investigate theft in the stores. If you wished to take action — and I think a little frightening might be in order — you could centre it on a matter of some calico. But I’ll leave it to you, sir.’

‘Back to Barcelona, then?’ said the Admiral, as they went out of the door together.

‘Just for a day or two. And then back to England.’

‘I knew a girl in Barcelona once,’ said the Admiral nostalgically. ‘Her name was Dolores.’

‘Lockhart?’ said Leila. ‘Well, he was always a man of sympathies.’

‘Catalan sympathies?’

‘Arab, too. That’s what attracted me to him in the first place. Here is a man who understands us, I thought. And so he did. Up to a point. But lately I have been wondering whether he really understood us. These things go very deep, you know.’

‘And did you mind his sympathies? For people other than the Arabs?’

‘No. Not at first, at any rate. It was all part of him. His generosity, his enthusiasm for everything, his idealism. I loved that, and I loved him.’

‘But you changed. You said, not at first. Not at first: but later?’

‘Well, maybe I did change.’

‘Why?’

She was silent for a little while, thinking.

‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually. ‘Perhaps one grows older. At least, I grew older. I am not sure about him.’

‘He kept the sympathies, while you gradually abandoned them?’

‘Not just that.’ She hesitated. ‘I found that in his case they were mixed with other things.’

‘Women?’

‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘Too often and too much.’

‘People have told me that you forgave him.’

‘So I did. Up to a point. But something died in me.’

‘Did you hate them? The others?’

‘Hate them!’ She looked startled. ‘Well, I suppose I did. Disliked them, certainly. That unspeakable creature in Barcelona! And there were others.’

‘Also in Barcelona?’

‘Yes. There was one woman especially. She — she flaunted him. As a conquest. “Look, I’ve got him. He’s mine, not yours.” Of course, she didn’t really do that. I never met her. But I heard of her, and it was as if she was doing that. Deliberately, to hurt me. And yes, I hated her. But she went the way of all the others, so I shrugged, and let it rest. In the end he always came back to me.’

‘And your family?’

Again she looked startled, and this time there was something else: she suddenly became guarded.

‘My family?’

‘Back in Algeria. How did they feel about it?’

‘They didn’t know about it. Not for a long time. But when they did hear about it they didn’t like it. It wasn’t so much the dishonesty that they didn’t like, it was the shame. They felt that the family had been dishonoured. Their pride was hurt.’ She grimaced. ‘We Arabs are a proud people. Like the Spanish, only worse.’

‘And your brother?’

‘Abou?’

She took her time about replying.

‘Well, Abou,’ she said then, softly.

She paused. ‘Well, Abou is a simple creature. He sees things in black and white. And the family is important to him.’

‘So he came to you. But when he got to you, he found that you had changed?’

‘Yes, I had changed,’ said Leila, looking down at her hands.

‘So he didn’t know what to do?’

‘What to do?’

‘He came here to do something, didn’t he? Or was sent to do something.’

Again she looked at her hands. ‘It all seemed so simple to him. So clear. I had been dishonoured. The family had been dishonoured. It could not be let rest. But I reasoned with him. I said that things were not like that here. This was Spain and they did things differently And if I was prepared to let it rest, so should he be. Well, of course, he couldn’t understand that. And why should he pay any attention to what I thought? Women don’t usually have much of a voice in my country. And the family had already decided. But, in his way, he loved me. And I think I could have persuaded him.’

‘But then came Tragic Week.’

‘Then came Tragic Week.’

‘Abou,’ said Seymour. ‘I want to talk to you about Aisha.’

‘Aisha?’ said Abou, surprised. ‘Farraj’s daughter?’

‘That’s right. You knew her, didn’t you?’

‘I knew the family. At one time. Farraj worked closely with us.’

‘Us? Your family? Or Lockhart?’

‘Both. My family had had connections with Farraj’s for a long time. In Algeria. And then when Lockhart became part of our family he and Farraj began to work closely together. They were almost partners. Farraj handled things for him in Algeria and Morocco, and then Farraj moved to Gibraltar to work even more closely with him.’

‘And Aisha?’

‘I got to know Aisha when Farraj came back to Algiers on visits, which he did regularly. Of course, I didn’t take much notice of her at first. She was a girl. Just another of Farraj’s family. But then on one visit I did.’

‘You noticed that she had grown up?’

‘Yes. She made me notice her. She spoke up. That is unusual in Arab families and Farraj was quite upset about it. It quite put me off her. I thought it was unseemly. But Leila said that was because she had lived in Spain and that was the way women behaved in Spain. And I grew quite to like it.’

Abou became embarrassed.

‘At one point I even thought of marrying her. Leila would have liked that. She encouraged me. “What you need is a good wife, Abou,” she said, “and Aisha would make you one.” I even went so far as to ask her. Farraj first, of course, and he was not unwilling. But then when it was put to her, she refused. I could not understand that. She said that it was nothing personal but that she wanted her freedom. Farraj was angry with her. It made things difficult for a time and he left her behind when next he visited.’

‘But you did not forget her?’

‘No.’

‘And you knew that she remembered Lockhart?’

‘She was fond of him. She thought of him as another father.’

‘And so it was easy to pressure her, when you went over to Spain yourself, to do something for him when he was in prison?’

Abou gave him a startled look.

‘That wasn’t part of the original plan, was it? It couldn’t be, because you didn’t know that he would be in prison. In fact, when you learned that Lockhart had been taken to prison, you must have thought for a moment that that had put a stop to what you intended to do. What you had been sent to do.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ muttered Abou.

‘But even before that, it seemed that Tragic Week had made what you planned impossible. But then you realized that it could actually work for you. Help you. With all the general chaos no one would notice or care. You went out on to the streets to find him. But then things went wrong. You suddenly discovered that he had a bodyguard. You couldn’t get to him. And then you learned that he had been arrested and taken to prison, where you couldn’t reach him. You had to think again; and you thought of Aisha.’

Abou did not say anything.

‘You thought of a way of reaching him even though he was in prison. You would poison him in his cell. You made inquiries and found that food could be got in to the prisoners. But that meant talking one of the warders into it, and you thought that could be done better by someone other than you. And then you had an inspiration. You thought of Aisha. You got her to talk to the warder. And to persuade him to pass in some food which you had prepared. Poisoned food.’

‘No, no. It was not as you suppose. How — how do you know this?’

‘She was seen, Abou. Seen in Barcelona, and seen near the prison. And she told someone that she was arranging for something to be taken in to Lockhart.’

‘She will not confirm this! You will not be able to talk to her. You will not be able to ask her that!’

‘Why not, Abou? Why cannot she be asked in Algiers as well as she could have been asked here? And when she is asked, she will tell. Why shouldn’t she? She has done nothing wrong. You tricked her, Abou, nastily, and she will not like that. She looked on Lockhart as a father, remember. And I do not think she will be cowed into silence, Abou, not this time. Her father sent her back to Algiers so that she should not be asked, and she went along with that as a dutiful daughter and because she was not quite sure herself what she had done, unwittingly, or how she had been involved. She was young and puzzled and confused. But she loved Lockhart and she is a spirited girl, Abou, and now she will not be silenced. She will tell all right.’

‘How will you reach her to ask the questions? She is married and her husband’s permission will have to be obtained. And she is in Algeria! And my family-’

‘Your family, yes. In which family feeling is so strong. So strong that it could not bear the shame and disgrace of what Lockhart had done to Leila. So strong that it sent you, Abou, as Leila’s brother, to take revenge.’

‘I will speak to Farraj! And I will speak to my family. They will not allow-’

‘It does not matter what they allow or do not allow. You are in Spain now, not Algeria. And it will be by Spanish law that things will be decided.

‘And as to reaching Aisha, I am not sure that you will find Farraj as much on your side as you think. And if he is not, nor will his friend, her husband, be. Aisha will be allowed to talk. And she will have plenty to say. And, besides — besides,’ said Seymour, ‘I, too, have family in North Africa.’

And that, too, he suddenly realized, had now become definite.