Tango

by Alan Judd

  It was dusk outside and the birds were twittering noisily in the plane trees. Four black Mercedes were parked in the square. The drivers were all sitting in the first one, filling it with smoke. Cathedral bells were ringing. Box seemed no more disposed to hurry than the dawdling couples.

  ‘Where are the soldiers?’ William asked.

  ‘Twenty yards.’

  ‘What’s the point? We came out of the building together.’

  ‘Security is a state of mind. Always seek what is most secure at the time, even if you haven’t been doing so.’ Box tucked his paper under his arm and clasped his hands behind his back. He had spoken without looking at William. William dropped back a few yards.

  They turned the corner at the end of the square, crossed the road and turned another. The waiting soldiers were not in sight. After a while they passed William’s shop. He half expected to see the orange-seller back with new stock but there was no one in the street, just the two of them, walking slowly. He caught up with Box.

  ‘Where are they supposed to be?’

  ‘Twenty yards.’

  ‘You’re not lost, are you?’

  ‘Anti-surveillance. Making sure we’re not followed.’

  The stiffness of Box’s manner and bearing indicated strong disapproval. William dropped back again.

  The minutes passed. Street gave way to street. At one time they were heading towards the cemetery, at another towards the docks. Once they almost turned back into the square but veered away. William’s exasperation and impatience increased. When they passed his shop the second time, he hurried forward again.

  ‘Look, this is daft. Time’s running out in there. They’ll all be gone by the time we get back. You are lost, aren’t you?’

  Box’s pale cheeks were tense. ‘I’m not lost. They are.’

  ‘Where did they say they’d be?’

  ‘Round the corner.’

  ‘Which corner?’

  ‘The second one out of the square.’

  ‘Very unlike you to accept anything so imprecise.’

  Box went a shade paler. This was clearly a professional humiliation.

  ‘Let’s go back and start again from there,’ William added in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I’m more familiar with the ground.’

  This time they walked side by side. ‘Never trust other people,’ was all Box said, slowly and through clenched teeth.

  At the second corner from the square there were a few closed shops, some sleepy-looking houses, a courting couple and a black dog.

  ‘This was definitely it?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  The black dog cocked its leg against a drainpipe and then wandered along the pavement, pausing at an open doorway in one of the houses. It started to go in but recoiled before a boot, then continued on its way as if kicking were routine. William, however, had seen the boot. It was long, brown and polished.

  ‘Let’s have a look down there.’

  In the doorway a tall uniformed officer was negotiating with an ample middle-aged woman with very blond hair. She was shaking her head and smiling as he stroked her plump arm.

  ‘That must be him,’ said William.

  ‘Not sure. They all look alike in uniform.’

  ‘It’s the one from the palace, the tall chap, the colonel who accompanied the coffin. The one you bribed.’

  ‘That’s it, that’s the one. The colonel in Carlos’s old regiment.’

  They went over. The tall colonel was about to be affronted by the interruption but, realising who they were, changed his manner.

  ‘No ahora, señora, you must wait. I have important business. I shall return.’ He closed the door on the woman.

  ‘We are friends of Carlos,’ said Box in careful Spanish.

  ‘Of course, we have met. The undertaker and the interpreter. Saludos, señores. You have no body this evening?’

  The colonel laughed. They all shook hands.

  ‘We bring orders from the president,’ continued Box. ‘Donde –?’ He turned to William. ‘You’d better ask. Not sure my Spanish is up to it.’

  ‘Where are your men?’

  The colonel held up his hands. ‘They are no longer here, señor.’ His accent was a northern one; he spoke as if translating from his own dialect.

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘They were tired of waiting and they have gone.’

  ‘Where?’

  The colonel slapped the gloves he was holding against his thigh. ‘Señores, I am told to come and wait here. I do not know for how long or for what. I am told a man from the president will come to tell me what to do but I do not know which man until now. It is the holiday. Everyone has holiday, even the president, but not us. I am told I cannot tell my soldiers what we are here for. They want to know why they must work on the holiday. I cannot tell them. And so they wish to have a drink. Naturally, I do not stop them.’ He stared as if boasting of an achievement.

  ‘Tell him,’ said Box.

  ‘The president wishes us to arrest members of his government. He wishes to be saved from them. But it has to be done quickly and secretly before the security police find out.’

  The colonel’s eyes widened. ‘This is the counter-revolution?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The colonel straightened himself. ‘Señores, I am honoured to take part. My children and my grandchildren will honour me. I lay down my life for the president.’ They all shook hands again.

  ‘Where are your soldiers?’

  ‘It is not a problem, señores. It is near here. There is a tango club. It is the only place that is open. I will show you.’

  Two army lorries were now parked near the club, behind the four Mercedes. Inside, the larger of the bars was packed by soldiers, their weapons slung over their shoulders, glasses and cigarettes in their hands. Of the few other customers who had earlier crept in there was now no sign.

  El Lizard came out of the bar. ‘Señor Wooding, it is not possible. These soldiers, they want women. I tell them the girls are busy but they are not satisfied. They wish to interrupt. I tell them they must wait their turn, but they will not wait. I cannot tell them who is with the girls, so I have to give them drinks and promise there will be girls, otherwise they break the furniture. They have guns. Señor, you can control them, please?’

  ‘We will see to it. The colonel here will see to it.’

  El Lizard looked at the colonel. ‘Normally we have more girls, but today with the holiday’ – his forehead wrinkled, his face grew longer and he raised his hands, palms upward – ‘I have sent for some but it takes a little time. The soldiers are impatient.’

  ‘The girls are coming here?’ asked the colonel.

  ‘In time, señor, in time. Please be calm.’

  ‘If they come here, my soldiers will not leave.’

  William translated for Box, who nodded. ‘Tell the troops you will be sending the new girls to the palace where the prisoners are to be taken.’

  The colonel agreed. El Lizard was relieved but puzzled. ‘The palace? They will not be the best girls, these who are coming. Normally for the palace I would want the best girls, the ones upstairs. But the best ones are wasted on soldiers, so perhaps it is good.’

  William told him the colonel would provide a lorry for the girls. Meanwhile, the colonel had brought the soldiers here for a purpose: he had been ordered to make some arrests. El Lizard was appalled – the club would be ruined, his staff and his girls were dear to him, his reputation would be destroyed. The president himself would be embarrassed.

  William said that the colonel and his men were acting on the orders of the president. The club would be famous and for ever patronised by the best people for the best reasons. No members of staff would be involved.

  El Lizard took one of William’s hands in both of his. He was almost tearful. ‘Gracias, muchas gracias. I will bring you a special drink.’

  The colonel was confident that his men would leave the bar provided they were told they would have the
girls at the palace afterwards. It wouldn’t matter that they were not the same girls – the soldiers wouldn’t notice by then – or that the soldiers recognised the men they were arresting. They were democratic, they didn’t care who they arrested. In any case, their loyalty was to the president, not to these jumped-up generals and traitors who made alliances with communists, while all the time feathering their own nests and promoting only their relatives and friends and ingratiating themselves with Herrera and his Russians and Cubans.

  Box held up his hand. ‘The president blesses you. He will thank you, your relatives and your friends many times.’

  The colonel saluted. ‘To battle, señores.’

  Box took the salute. ‘To battle.’

  They mounted the wide wooden staircase, William and Box side by side and in step.

  ‘I’m finding it difficult to take this seriously,’ said William.

  Box nodded like a doctor who was hearing what he knew only too well. ‘Same with everything when you think about it. All your normal daily business. Look at any bit of it closely enough and it soon becomes unreal and impossible to take seriously. The difference with our work is that it confronts you with the fact instead of covering it with habit so you never notice.’

  ‘Do you often think like this?’

  ‘Not often, there’s no point.’ They had reached the second set of stairs. ‘Up you go. I’ll look after the colonel and his merry men and make sure they come up quietly.’

  The upstairs corridor was quiet. There was water running, but not as much as before. William listened at two of the doors and heard nothing apart from the air-conditioners. He opened his own door cautiously, and stared at the part of the floor where he had been with Theresa on the lilo. Those few minutes now seemed as unreal as everything else. He walked back to the top of the stairs and gave the signal.

  There was murmuring and muffled heavy footsteps. Box came first and then the colonel, bristling and eager. The soldiers, their broad shoulders encumbered by weapons and webbing, barely fitted the narrow staircase. They smelled of alcohol.

  The party assembled at the end of the corridor. The floorboards creaked. There were three soldiers to a prisoner, Box whispered, and a camera to each group. Two men would escort the prisoner, the third would photograph him and then carry his belongings. William was to point out which rooms they were to enter and the colonel would see to the rest. The president was to stay in his room throughout.

  William showed them the rooms. He felt almost as if he were opening a country house one day a year for the villagers.

  ‘Are the rooms locked?’

  ‘One isn’t, the others may be.’

  ‘Do you know who’s in which?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right. Ask the colonel to get the men to fall in outside each door.’

  The soldiers were detailed off, their weapons unslung and at the ready. One or two eased off the safety catches.

  ‘Tell them there should be no need to do any shooting,’ William said to the colonel. The colonel told them. They fixed bayonets. ‘It should be enough just to show the bayonets,’ added William. ‘They won’t have to use them.’

  The colonel smiled proudly. ‘Our soldiers are very fond of the bayonet. For them it is a symbol.’

  Box turned to William. ‘I’ll give the signal when you’re ready.’

  ‘Well, okay, I’m ready.’

  Box nodded to the colonel. ‘Right.’

  The colonel stood to attention, drew his sword and held it aloft. All the men looked at it. He held his pose for some seconds, the point quivering.

  ‘Tell him to get on with it,’ Box whispered.

  The colonel brought down his sword as if starting a race.

  Two of the doors opened at the first attempt, the third was locked but yielded to a hefty shoulder. William, Box and the colonel were left in the corridor. The colonel held his sword as if to stab at escapees. Nothing happened. There were no shouts and no sounds of struggle.

  ‘May as well have a butchers,’ said Box.

  William followed him. A fat naked man with white hair was lying on his back, his arms outstretched. He had a white moustache and his face was red and staring. The mirror above him made him look like a beached whale. Sitting on the bed beside him and also naked was the slim girl who had been one of the dancers. Two of the soldiers were pointing their guns at the couple while the third took photographs. No one spoke.

  ‘Tell them to get a move on,’ said Box.

  William’s Spanish was not up to military commands, so he simply told them to proceed. One of the soldiers made a move towards the bed. William looked at the fat man whom he thought he recognised as Paulotti, Chief of the Police. ‘You must go with the soldiers,’ he said to him. ‘You have been arrested.’

  Paulotti sat up with difficulty. ‘Who is arresting me? Who has ordered this? I cannot be arrested.’

  ‘The president has ordered it. You are arrested.’

  William’s Spanish was more stilted than usual. He turned to the soldiers. ‘Go. Continue. Arrest him.’

  Paulotti became angry. He got clumsily to his feet, his thighs and buttocks wobbling. William hated to watch because he thought that was how he himself might appear. Paulotti turned to the soldiers. ‘You are arresting me? You have no power. I will have you shot. Who ordered this? Who are these foreigners? Get out of my room!’

  The soldiers hesitated, looking at William and Box. William stepped back to the door to call the colonel but couldn’t see him. He tried to think of some confident-sounding reply but his Spanish had gone to pieces. When he looked back he saw Box step purposefully forward. The girl rolled out of the way. Paulotti stared like an affronted walrus. Box stepped on to the bed beside him and with one swift movement hit him on the buttock with his rolled newspaper.

  ‘Out!’ he shouted, pointing with his other hand at the door. ‘Under arrest! Move, move, move! Run, run, run!’

  With each word he struck at Paulotti’s buttocks. Paulotti jumped and nearly fell, uttering small affronted squeals. He tried to grab the newspaper but missed and Box brought it down with a final resounding slap. ‘Out!’

  One of the soldiers grabbed Paulotti by the arm, another moved to push him off the bed. Once they felt struggling flesh, they regained their momentum. By the time Paulotti had been hustled to the door he was cowed and looked shocked again. The third soldier began to follow.

  ‘Tell him to bring the clothes,’ said Box.

  The soldier gathered them, taking his time to look at the girl who was wrapping herself in a towel.

  ‘Rapido! Quick!’ Box shouted at him. The soldier gathered up the remainder of the clothing and left.

  The corridor was filled with soldiers again. Quinto, the other general, was there with one naked girl and one wearing a towel. There was a dangerous air of hesitancy and aimlessness. The colonel was not to be seen. Something seemed to be happening in the third room which William assumed to be occupied by Ines and Manuel.

  ‘Tell them to get moving,’ said Box. ‘Take the prisoners downstairs to the lorries and wait for the colonel. Make sure they leave the girls alone. Where’s number three?’ He went towards Manuel’s room.

  William’s Spanish was returning. Raising his voice gave him confidence. The soldiers and prisoners eddied around the stairs. William went to the group still in the doorway of Manuel’s room. Inside he saw Ines, naked and expostulating, her pendulous breasts shaking. She was arguing with the colonel, who stood with his sword pointing at Ricardo’s naked stomach. Ricardo was also arguing. Box stood to one side of them, looking puzzled.

  He was the first to see William. ‘You’d better come and sort this out. Seems to be a bit of confusion.’

  The contrast between Ines’s enveloping proportions and Ricardo’s slim litheness was transfixing. William tried not to dwell upon either and eventually focused on the colonel’s sword.

  They greeted him as a saviour and competed in rapid explanations. He had to ask the
m to slow down.

  ‘He is trying to arrest us,’ said Ines, pointing at the colonel. ‘He says we are communists and that Manuel Herrera is here. Where, where? I ask him. In the lilo? Down the plug-hole? There is no one here. He says he will castrate Ricardo.’

  Ricardo stared in wide-eyed appeal. ‘He talks like a madman. Take his sword away. If he touches me I will kill his family.’

  William held up his hand to the colonel. ‘He doesn’t want you,’ he told Ricardo. ‘He thought Manuel Herrera was in here, that’s all. That’s what we all thought.’

  ‘Is this the counter-revolution?’

  ‘I suppose it is, yes.’

  Ricardo opened his arms. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. I could have told you that you would never catch Herrera here with Ines. Never in his life. He would not touch her.’

  Everyone looked at Ines, who stood with her legs apart and her hands on her hips. She nodded. ‘Herrera is homosexual. He doesn’t want women. I discovered today, this afternoon. I thought he didn’t like me but it was not that. Ricardo told me.’

  The colonel lowered his sword. ‘The army will hate him even more for this.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ William asked Ricardo.

  ‘He is with his driver. I saw them go together. His driver is his boyfriend. Once when I was going to meet Manuel – you know, when he wanted to talk to me – I was early and I saw them doing it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘You never asked. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this? Then I would have told you.’

  ‘What were they doing?’ asked the colonel.

  ‘They were kissing each other in the car.’

  The colonel stepped back as if Ricardo were infectious.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Box asked.

  William explained. Box said they’d better get after Manuel. He was easily the most dangerous one to have at large. The security police were his people and would be loyal to him so long as he was free. It would be ideal to catch him with his driver, even better than with a prostitute. Where would they be?