Pedro threw his head back and laughed, slapping his paunch.
“Superb, my friend. Superb. And now, for all of us. A drink.”
“Jose,” I said for the hundredth time. “ There is still Jose,” then I stiffened as the faint sound of a car engine throbbed in the distance. We looked at each other, frozen into immobility.
Was it the police? Or Garmendia coming back for Cia after killing Jose? Or was it, please God … Jose?
I wasn’t the only one who seemed unable to react. In the end it was Miss Daventry who said briskly. “ Leave me a gun, just in case. The rest of you go down into the cellar.”
It seemed as sensible a suggestion as any. The barman’s face didn’t flicker. As far as he was concerned he was seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and telling nothing.
The cellar smelt stale and damp, and with the door shut the darkness was total. I wondered where Alphonso Cia was, if he should free himself … if he should pounce upon us unawares and defenceless.
Over the heavy drumming of my own heartbeat I strained to hear what was going on above, every nerve stretched, waiting for the vibration of other footsteps.…
Minutes passed and still nothing happened. We were crammed together and I could feel the damp perspiration that was soaking Javier’s shirt and the faint smell of garlic on Pedro’s breath.
I heard the faint click of footsteps upon stone, and then footsteps, but more than those of one person. It couldn’t be Jose. It was the police … my whirling brain tried to think straight. We were in France now. Surely that meant we had nothing to fear? Surely the Spanish police couldn’t operate so far beyond the frontier? Or was it the French police? Could we be extradited? I began to feel sick, longing for fresh air.
The door above us opened, and the next few seconds lasted an eternity. Then I was following Javier out into the stone floored room, gazing uncomprehendingly at Eugenio.
Chapter Twenty
“Thank goodness …” I began, and then my legs buckled under me, weak with relief. Javier caught hold of me, pressing me down onto a chair, saying: “Don’t faint now. Not for Eugenio’s sake!”
Briefly, far more briefly than Miss Daventry, Javier told him what had happened. Eugenio gazed open-eyed at the indomitable Miss Daventry.
“And we still have no idea where they have gone.…” Javier finished.
Eugenio still seemed lost for words. “ Tut, tut,” Miss Daventry said, giving his shoulder a shake. “Have you lost your ability to speak? What we need now is a bit of action!”
“Haven’t you had enough of that already?” Javier asked dazedly.
She ruffled his hair as if he were a boy of ten. “ You don’t know the meaning of the word. One day, when we have time, I’ll tell you what it was like in nineteen thirty-six and seven. And about Guernica too. Alison is quite right. What matters now is Jose.”
“Tell me slowly, once again, what happened,” Pedro said, his black eyebrows meeting together as his brow furrowed in thought.
“Garmendia ran. He reached his car and I heard it screech round the corner and then seconds later Jose took the police car they had so shrewdly obtained, and hared off after him.”
“But where to?” I asked distractedly, staring round at the blank circle of faces, “In which direction would he have gone?”
Eugenio said quietly. “ I passed no-one on the road leading to Cotanes, so that means they must have branched off onto the first main road. I could follow. I came here on Antonio’s motor-bike and it’s pretty fast, but I don’t think there’s much chance of catching them up. They could have turned right or left at the main road, who knows? And if Jose has already caught up with Garmendia, I’d be too late to be of help anyway.”
Even Romero’s shoulders sagged in agreement. With strained faces they sat down on the scattered bar stools, and the imperturbable barman poured ice-cold beer into glasses. I stared down into mine, feeling utterly helpless. To have come all this way, the tension within me mounting with every passing minute, and now, nothing. Nothing to do but wait. I stood up, the glass still held in my hands, striding the floor first one way and then another. There must be something we could do … anything would be better than this nerve destroying inactivity.
Javier walked across to me. “I think perhaps we need to talk, Alison. A lot has happened and I think you need some things explaining to you. I wondered before, but back in Bayonne I became sure. Let’s find some privacy.”
I followed him across the room and out through the rustling curtain into the courtyard, dazzling white in the heat of the sun, all traces of mist and rain far away. I felt Miss Daventry’s eyes following me, openly interested. It was obvious she now knew I was in love with Jose. But did she know how much? Could anyone ever know how much?
Please God, I prayed silently. Please let him be alive. Please let him come striding through the doorway big and strong, his hair in a knot of tangled curls, his eyes sparkling with laughter.…
Javier took my hand. “ It’s been a hell of a week for all of us,” he said, and ridiculously I began to cry. “ So much has happened that I think perhaps you and Jose have been taking things a little too much for granted.”
I turned my head away staring resolutely at a peacock butterfly dancing amongst the wisteria blossoms as Javier led me to a seat beneath the heavy scent of a magnolia tree. Here it comes, I thought. Kind friend spelling things out clearly for me. Not wanting me to make a fool of myself any longer.
I said. “ It’s all right, Javier. I know. I knew in Bayonne. But I chose to come here for my own reasons. I knew my coming wouldn’t make the situation any different. As soon as I know that Jose is safe I shall leave.”
“There you are!” Javier said, one foot up on the wicker bench beside me, gazing down at me his dark eyes full of concern. “You’re still not listening to me, are you? How do you think Jose would feel if, as soon as we knew he was still alive, you raced straight across France for home?”
“Relieved, I should think,” I said with an effort at a laugh. “ I’m sorry, Javier. I know he would want to see me, to thank me, to say goodbye properly, but I don’t want it that way.” I pushed a tracery of leaves away, plucking at a fallen magnolia blossom, my voice shaking a little, despite my desperate efforts at self control. “I couldn’t bear it. I’ve seen him leave me once. To ask me to do it again is too much.” I looked helplessly at him, willing him to understand. “ I love him, Javier. I shall not have the strength to turn round and leave him, without betraying my feelings. And I’ve too much pride for that.”
“Alison, Alison,” Javier said gently, sitting down beside me, taking my hand once more. “ Is it because of Carmen?”
I let the petals scatter to the ground, not trusting myself to speak, just nodding my head.
“Carmen,” Javier said, speaking slowly and clearly, “is engaged to Luis.”
The words seemed to hang forever in the sweet-ladened air.
“To Luis,” I repeated faintly.
“To Luis,” Javier said firmly. “ They have been sweethearts since childhood.”
The butterfly ventured nearer, flickering round the edge of the leaves.
“But I thought.…” The courtyard was spinning, whirling round me and Javier was steadying me, saying with a laugh.
“I know what you thought, idiot. But not till I saw your reaction when Carmen arrived in Bayonne and Jose went to meet her.”
“You mean there is nothing between them …?” I could hardly breathe, my chest felt as if it were bursting.
“There’s something between them all right,” Javier said cheerfully. “A bond that goes back to childhood, and the knowledge that very soon they will be brother and sister-in-law.”
“Oh,” I said inadequately, the strength flooding back into my body, my joy so great I could hardly contain it.
“And of course there is something else I thought I ought to mention to you whilst I have the chance.”
“Yes,” I said eagerly. “Yes?”
A glorious sweep of elation surged through me. Jose did love me, and nothing or anyone stood between us. I was overjoyed the whole world bright again. Rich and glittering and full of promise. Jose. Jose.…
Chapter Twenty-one
I ran into the inn, pushing the beaded curtain away hastily.
“Good gracious!” Miss Daventry said. “ What on earth has Javier been saying to you?”
I grasped her hands, eyes shining. “You made a mistake. Back in Miguelou, you made the most awful, wonderful, mistake.”
“Has she taken leave of her senses?” Miss Daventry asked Javier over the top of my head.
“No, I’ve regained them. Listen, do you remember, that first night in Miguelou, when the boat was fired on?”
“It’s hardly a thing that would have slipped my memory considering the circumstances we all find ourselves in.”
“I asked you if there were any local men on board and you said four. Among them Luis and Jose Villada. You said quite distinctly that Jose was Carmen’s fiance.”
“Did I dear?” Miss Daventry asked vaguely. “ How foolish of me, but I’m sure I don’t remember. Was it important?”
“Yes, because, don’t you see? I fell in love with Jose and all the time I thought it was hopeless because he was going to marry Carmen!”
Miss Daventry sighed. “And you mean to tell me that in the past three days when you have spent so much time together, you never asked the man straight out?”
“It wasn’t as easy as you think,” I said spiritedly. “We were hardly ever alone together, and besides I was waiting for him to tell me. After the way he greeted her in Bayonne I didn’t think there was any question of it. I thought I’d been mistaken about his feelings for me.”
“You young people never cease to amaze me,” Miss Daventry said, shaking her head. “All this liberation of the sexes and it seems to get you nowhere. If I had been in your position I would have known how the land lay straight away. I remember in nineteen thirty-six when I was in love with General Ria.…”
“Jose could still be dead.” Romero interrupted her brutally.
I turned, the blood draining from my face. In the ecstasy of knowing he loved me, I had forgotten everything else.
“Oh God, what can we do?” I asked him. “We must do something. We can’t just sit here, waiting.”
Romero drummed his fingers on the bar. “ They’ve been gone a long time now.”
“Not if they were both in cars and Garmendia managed to stay ahead.” Eugenio said, pushing his hair away from his eyes.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Javier asked quietly. The men sat on their bar stools, watching him intently. “ Garmendia is no fool. I’m not so sure he would run from Jose.”
Silence hung, unbroken except for the drumming of Romero’s knuckles.
“You mean you think Garmendia deliberately raced off in the car, leading Jose away from Cotanes?” Eugenio asked.
Javier nodded.
“Then if he did that,” I said, my mouth dry. “ It means Garmendia knew where he was going … and knew that when he had duped Jose into following him, that he would be able to kill him.”
“Yes,” Javier said miserably. “It does.”
Romero shook his head, toying with his glass. “I don’t think so, Javier. Remember, Garmendia and Cia thought they had it all tied up here. Jose and myself took them by complete surprise. I doubt if Garmendia would have had a reserve plan up his sleeve.”
“I agree with Romero,” Miss Daventry said. “As far as Angel and Alphonso knew, all that was needed was that Jose should arrive in Cotanes. Nothing else.”
Javier sank back leaning against the wall, eyes closed.
“What made you come?” Pedro asked Eugenio suddenly. “You said we were fools to follow Jose here.”
“You were,” Eugenio said, holding his glass between his knees. “And so am I for changing my mind and coming as well. Just put it down to my better nature … and the fact that another bomb went off in Bilbao an hour ago. I know it couldn’t have been Garmendia himself, but he was behind it. The whole movement is breaking up and moving into chaos. Have Garmendia free another week and we will be back to the same position we were in two years ago. Plus the fact that the only separatists not rounded up and being held in jail are the maniacs that have gone over to Garmendia. I sometimes wonder if he has the police themselves in his pocket.”
Romero said dryly. “ Not even Garmendia could manage that. Not on a big enough scale anyway. He’s had the luck of the devil this last week.”
“You can say that again,” Javier said bitterly. “All our men arrested within twenty-four hours, or as many as makes no difference, and Garmendia and his mob rampaging the countryside from Bilbao to Bayonne, and still free.”
“I wonder,” said Miss Daventry, her face grave. “I wonder.…”
“Yes?” I prompted. “Go on.”
“Jose was driving the police car wasn’t he? I was just wondering how far he would be likely to get on main roads in a stolen police car.”
Romero swore. “ Not bloody far … why the hell didn’t I think of it.…”
I let out my breath slowly. “You mean you think the police have picked him up and that Garmendia has got away?”
“It would account for neither of them returning,” Javier said, opening his eyes, his face pale.
I swallowed hard. “And if they have … what will happen to him?”
Eugenio said after a few seconds silence. “ It depends on the amount of collaboration between the French and Spanish police forces.”
“But the French policeman at the farm wouldn’t let the Spaniards search for us!”
“He was also a friend,” Eugenio said cynically. He stubbed his cigarette out and lit another. “A month ago a Spanish policeman, heavily armed, was shot twenty-five miles inside French territory by a separatist he was chasing. The policeman was called Azores and came from Madrid. He was taken to hospital for treatment and then escorted by the Spanish consul in Bayonne and the French security police back to the border. Later it was officially confirmed that Azores had had several companions. Two cars were also found deep within French territory. One containing a sub-machine gun and ammunition, the other car containing photographs of people alleged to be members of ETA and living in France. I mention this for two reasons. First, because it was important to us, as Basques, because though we have known about illegal Spanish police activity for years beyond the border, this was the first officially reported case. That is the reason the French are playing it cool at the moment. They don’t want another public incident. Secondly, because it proves that the Spanish police are quite used to crossing the border after their quarry. If the Spanish officer and his men who chased you to the farm are still anywhere in the vicinity, then Jose will be forcibly taken back to Spain.…”
“And?”
“The sentence for killing a policeman is death by garotting.” Romero said, eyes anguished.
“But he hasn’t killed one!” I protested hysterically. “ He hasn’t killed anyone!”
“According to Spanish news sources he has,” Javier said gently. “And so have you.”
I grasped his hand, sick and shivering. Eugenio crushed his half smoked cigarette beneath his heel.
“I’m going to look for them. I’ll take the left hand turn at the main road.”
“And I’ll take the right,” Romero said. “ Javier, stay here and wait. One of them will return. Garmendia to collect Cia … or Jose to collect Miss Daventry.”
I watched them go and then returned bleakly to the bar. Even Miss Daventry’s usual optimism seemed to have waned. Pedro sat at the top of the cellar steps, apparently keeping an eye on Alphonso Cia, and the barman stared listlessly at us with uncaring eyes.
I said. “I can’t stand here doing nothing. I’m going for a walk.”
For a moment I thought Miss Daventry was going to suggest accompanying me and
then I saw understanding in her eyes, and she said only: “ Don’t go too far away, Alison.”
“I won’t. I just want to be able to see the road, that’s all.”
I walked over the cobbles that led from the square, back towards the bend where it curved out of sight, circling the steep hillside, till it levelled out amidst green fields. I would be able to see him coming, and long before the car climbed slowly into Cotanes I would know if it was Jose approaching … or Angel Garmendia.
I sat down on the cool of a crumbling stone wall and commenced my vigil, wrapping my arms around my knees, hugging them to me, trying to control my deepening anxiety as the snake-like road far below me remained stubbornly bare.
We had driven into Cotanes from the west, as had Eugenio, and Eugenio had said that the road had been deserted. Was it from the east then, he would come?
The road meandered into the far distance, a heat haze hanging over it so that my eyes ached as I looked down on it, wanting only to see the police car he had driven off in, dreading to see anything else, anything that could possibly be Garmendia returning. I pulled anxiously at the long grass and the thick weeds that grew around the foot of the wall, my fear escalating as the minutes passed and still there was no sign.
The possibility that he would not return was unbearable. He had to come back. He had to. I would see his face again and those amber eyes would gaze into mine and in the gold-flecked depths there would be joy and pleasure … and love.
In the brilliant sunlight something moved. I held my breath as the miniscule dot of a car sped out of the haze and down the road. Frantically I shielded my eyes, straining to see better. Like a toy the car sped between fields of waving grain and then onto the grassy plain that circled Cotanes. It was not a police car. The blood pounding in my ears I watched it as it turned off the road, beginning the long ascent to the village.
Slowly I rose to my feet, walking to the very edge of the road, standing there in my own private hell as I waited for Garmendia to sweep round the last bend.
Tapestry of Fear Page 12
