by C. J. Sansom
He stood and paced up and down to warm himself a little. If only Sofia would hurry, surely she should be back by now. It had been hard for her, finding her uncle’s name on the memorial.
He spun round at a creak from the door. It wasn’t Sofia, it was a tall red-haired priest who stood there. Harry dropped to the nearest bench, clasping his hands together and lowering his head as though praying. Between his fingers he watched as the priest walked over to the altar and knelt before it. He crossed himself then walked over to Francisco. The old man rose from his bench, looking flustered. Harry clenched his hands together. What if the old man panicked, betrayed them?
‘Buenas tardes, señor,’ the priest said quietly. ‘I am visiting the town, staying at the convent for two nights. I would like to pray here for a little while.’
‘Of course, señor.’
‘It is quiet tonight.’
‘There are few visitors in this weather.’
‘Ay, it is cold. But not too cold to pray.’
The priest walked over to the seats and took one a few rows ahead of Harry. He seemed preoccupied and appeared not to have noticed the other penitent in the gloom. Francisco sat down again.
His eyes darted between Harry and the priest, who had got down on his knees, burying his face in his hands.
The door opened again. Harry shot a glance at the priest but he went on praying as Sofia came in. Harry leaned round and pointed at the priest. To his surprise Sofia slipped quickly over to the ugly confessional box under the window and flattened herself against its side, concealing herself. Harry stood up, puzzled. His knee banged against the bench and he set his teeth at the noise and the sharp pain. He crossed to the confessional, trying to keep his echoing footsteps to a slow measured pace: the priest would surely look up if he heard anyone running in here. But still the priest knelt, praying.
‘What is it?’ he whispered anxiously. ‘Is Barbara safe?’
‘Yes. I left her at the bridge. But that red-haired priest, we met him. I told him we were staying at the convent, going straight back there. He mustn’t see me here with you. And when Barbara comes with Bernie—’
‘I’ll have to get the old man to get rid of him.’
Sofia shook her head rapidly, a frightened gesture. ‘He won’t tell a priest to leave the cathedral.’
‘He must.’ Harry squeezed her arm and walked steadily down the nave to where Francisco stood.
BARBARA STOOD stock still, clutching the cold rail.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Sandy jeered. He smiled again, enjoying her astonishment. ‘Remember that call you had from the prison guard? I was listening in; I picked up the phone at the same time.’ His tone was mild, conversational. ‘Afterwards I opened that bureau of yours, saw all the details you had in there. The map with the bushes by the bridge marked.’
‘But how did you open it?’
‘I kept a key to the bureau when I bought it.’ He smiled. ‘I always keep a duplicate key for everything I buy with a lock. Especially if it’s for someone else. Old habit.’
Barbara said nothing, just stood looking at him, her breath coming in sharp stabs.
‘How long have you known Piper was alive?’ he asked. ‘How long have you been planning this?’
‘A couple of months,’ she replied quietly. She studied his face. What was he going to do? His eyes were furious. Despite the cold there was sweat on his brow.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Was Brett in this too?’
‘No.’ Bernie didn’t know Harry was here. She looked at the hand Sandy kept in his pocket. There was a bulge there. Did he have a gun too?
‘They’ve been to the house for you,’ she said. Her heart was pounding; it was hard to keep her voice steady, but she must. ‘The police. They took everything from your office.’
‘Yes, I thought they would have by now. I’ve got a passport that’ll see me onto a ship at Valencia. Belonged to one of the French Jews but it’s got my face on it now. I thought I’d just stop off here on the way.’
She gripped the gun, working her fingers so they held the trigger. ‘Where’s Pilar?’ she asked. Her voice was steadier now.
‘Gone. I paid her off. She was just a little diversion. Nothing important, like the way you betrayed me.’ He hissed the word with sudden fury, then took a deep breath and continued in his bantering tone. ‘Well, the worm turned into a dragon all right. And to think I made you. I should have left you to rot in Burgos.’
She didn’t reply, just stood looking at him. He glanced back along the bridge.
‘He’s over there,’ he said, ‘waiting in some trees up the road. I saw him. I’ve been behind a tree up there, waiting. I was going to kill him. I wanted you to find him dead. But he heard me lighting a ciggy behind a tree and that put him on the alert, so I came here instead. After all, nothing’s more dangerous than a cornered man. I shouldn’t think he can see us at this end of the bridge.’ Sandy inclined his head towards his pocket. ‘I’ve got a gun, by the way.’
Barbara could just make out the clump of trees a few hundred yards up the road. Was Bernie really there? ‘Why, Sandy?’ she asked. ‘I mean, what’s – what’s the point now? It’s all over.’
Sandy’s voice was still low but it had turned cold. ‘He used to treat me like a piece of dirt at school, like my bloody father. He tried to keep Harry from me. And now he’s got you to betray me and get him out of prison. Well, I’ll have my revenge.’ He smiled again; a strange smile, almost childish. ‘I like revenge; it’s real.’
She stepped back involuntarily. There was something wild now, deranged, in his voice.
‘Don’t bloody look like that,’ he said. ‘Have I done anything worse than what Piper and all the other ideologues did to Spain? Eh? Have I?’
‘Bernie didn’t get me to do this, Sandy, it was my idea. He didn’t even know until a little while ago.’
‘I’ve still been betrayed,’ he said. ‘But I won’t let it happen again. I won’t be just cast out, discarded. If that’s my fate, I’ll fight it to the end. I will.’ His dark eyes were wild, bulging. She didn’t reply. They stood facing each other for a moment, the occasional snowflake drifting down. Sandy took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second, and when he spoke his tone was conversational again.
‘How did you get here? Train?’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t know Harry and Sofia were here, he thought she was alone. But they couldn’t help her in the cathedral.
‘I suppose you’ve got a change of clothes for him in that rucksack.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you what you can do. You can turn round and go back the way you came. Go back to England. Then I’ll deal with him.’ He nodded at his pocket. ‘I’d like to kill you too but a shot from here might be heard.’ He leaned forward then, his face working. ‘Just don’t ever forget, for the rest of the life I’m letting you have, don’t forget I won.’ He almost hissed the words; he sounded silly, like a child. He gestured with the thing in his pocket. ‘Now, turn round and start walking.’
She released her hold on the rail, took a deep breath.
‘Go on.’ His voice rose. ‘Now. Or I will shoot you, damn it. Three years I spent building you up from nothing so you could betray me. Bitch. Turn round, start walking.’
Barbara put her hand in her pocket and drew out the Mauser. She took it in both hands and thrust out her arms, slipping the safety catch as she levelled it at his chest.
‘Throw your gun over the bridge, Sandy.’ She was surprised how clear her voice was. She spread her legs, concentrating on her balance. ‘Do it. Do it now or I’ll kill you.’ As she spoke she knew she could if she had to.
Sandy stepped back a pace. He looked astonished. ‘You – you’ve a gun?’
‘Take yours out of your pocket, Sandy. Slowly.’
He clenched his fists. ‘Bitch.’
‘Throw your gun off the bridge!’
Sandy looked into her eyes, then pulled his hand slowly fro
m his pocket. She thought, what if he whips it out and shoots me. But she would get her shot in first. He wouldn’t get Bernie, he wouldn’t.
Sandy pulled out a large stone. He looked at it, then smiled at her and shrugged. ‘There wasn’t time to get a gun. I was going to brain Piper with this.’ He dropped the stone on to the bridge. It bounced and went over the side, disappearing into the void. There was no sound of it hitting the water, it was too far.
Barbara ran her eyes quickly over his other pockets. ‘Put your hands on your head,’ she said.
Sandy’s face darkened again, but he did as she ordered. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked. There was fear in his voice now, something she had never heard before. She was glad; he realized she meant it. She thought quickly.
‘We’re going back across the bridge. To Bernie.’
‘No.’ His face seemed to crumple. ‘Not like this.’
She jerked the gun up, towards his face. ‘Turn round.’
He flinched. ‘All right.’ He turned and began slowly walking back the way he had come. Barbara followed, an arm’s length away in case he made a sudden grab for her. They walked to the end of the bridge and stepped on to the grass verge by the road. The snow had stopped and the moon appeared from behind the clouds.
‘Stop,’ she said. Sandy halted. He looked ridiculous standing there with his hands on his head. She had to think what to do now. She turned to stare at the clump of trees. Can Bernie see us? she thought. What are we going to do with Sandy? She knew she couldn’t shoot him in cold blood, but Bernie might.
Then she heard a patter of feet. She turned and saw Sandy running across the road. He had moved like lightning, the moment she had looked away.
‘Stop!’
He began zigzagging from side to side. She tried to aim but it was impossible. She remembered what he had said earlier, a shot would echo all over the place. She lowered the gun as Sandy reached the other side of the road and began running up the hill, still twisting and turning. He disappeared among the trees. She heard the creak and rustle of branches.
She lowered the gun. Let him go, she thought, don’t risk a shot. He hadn’t a weapon and he wasn’t in a position to go into town and tell the authorities about her – they were looking for him too.
She walked quickly up the road, glancing continually up at the hillside, feeling alone and exposed. She looked across the gorge at the lights of the town, making out the dark bulk of the cathedral where Harry and Sofia would be waiting.
She found the clump of trees. It was dark and silent. Had Sandy been lying, was Bernie really there? She stood looking up at the bank for a moment, then began to climb. She realized she was still carrying the gun and slipped it into her pocket. Her feet slipped on the frosty grass. She looked back at the road and the bridge, both still deserted. She wondered how she had known to say those things, hands up and hands on your head? A decade of talkies, she supposed, everybody knew such things now.
‘Bernie,’ she called into the trees in a loud whisper. There was no reply.
‘Bernie,’ she called again, louder.
There was a sound of branches moving from inside the copse. She tensed and took hold of the gun again as a man appeared. Barbara saw a gaunt shape in a ragged old coat, a beard and an old man’s limp. She thought it was some tramp and reached for the gun again.
‘Barbara.’ She heard him cry out, heard his voice for the first time in more than three years. He stepped forward. She opened her arms and he fell into them.
THE OLD MAN Francisco had taken out a rosary and was turning it over and over in fretful hands. Harry bent over him, putting his lips to the old man’s hairy ear.
‘You must get the priest to leave. He saw my friends outside. They said they were going to the convent. If they come back and he sees them, there will be questions.’
‘I cannot ask a priest praying to Our Lord to leave the cathedral,’ Francisco whispered furiously.
‘You must.’ Harry stared into his eyes. ‘Or there will be danger for us all. And no money.’
Francisco ran a callused hand over the stubble on his cheeks. ‘Mierda,’ he breathed. ‘Why did I agree to this?’
The priest’s muttering had stopped. He had lifted his face from his hands and knelt looking at them. He couldn’t have heard their whispered words but the urgency in Harry’s tone might have carried. Hell, he thought, bloody hell. He whispered again.
‘He’s not praying now. Tell him there’s a family emergency and you have to lock the cathedral up for a while.’
The priest rose and came over to them, black cloak swishing round his legs. Francisco stood up. The priest smiled gently at him.
‘Are you all right, viejo?’
‘I am afraid his wife has been taken ill,’ Harry said. He tried to make his accent sound more Spanish. ‘I am a doctor. It would be a great favour, sir, if he could close the cathedral and go home to her. I can fetch the other watchman.’
The priest gave him a keen look. Harry wondered how easy it would be to overpower him. He was young but flabby-looking.
‘Where are you from, doctor? I do not recognize your accent.’
‘Catalunya, señor. I fetched up here after the war.’
Francisco gestured at Harry. ‘Father, he has, he has—’ But he couldn’t continue. He bowed his head.
‘If you like I can stay while you fetch the other man,’ the priest said.
Francisco swallowed. ‘Please, señor, the rules say the cathedral must be closed if there is no watchman here.’
‘It is best if we close the cathedral,’ Harry said. ‘I will take Francisco home; the dean’s house is on the way and I can fetch the other man.’
The priest nodded. ‘Very well. I should be back at the convent anyway. What is your wife’s name?’
‘Maria, señor.’
‘Very well.’ He turned away. ‘I will pray to the Virgin for her recovery.’
‘Yes. Pray for us.’ The old man broke down then, dissolving into floods of tears and burying his face in his hands. Harry nodded to the priest.
‘I’ll take care of him, señor.’
‘Vaya con Dios, viejo.’
‘Vaya con Dios, señor.’ The watchman’s reply was a shamed mumble. The priest touched his shoulder. Then at last he walked away, down the nave and out of the church.
Francisco wiped his face but did not look at Harry. ‘You have shamed me. Cabrón rojo. You have shamed me in this holy place.’
BERNIE AND BARBARA held each other tightly. She felt the rough material of his coat, like sacking, smelt his sickly odour, but the warm body underneath was his, his. ‘Bernie, Bernie,’ she said.
He pulled away, looked at her. His face was thin, seamed with dirt, his beard unkempt.
‘My God,’ he said. ‘How did you do this?’
‘I had to, I had to find you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But listen, we have to go.’ She looked up at the hill. ‘Sandy was here earlier.’
‘Forsyth? He knows?’
‘Yes.’ Quickly she explained what had happened. His eyes widened when she told him Harry was in the cathedral with his Spanish fiancée.
‘Harry and Sandy.’ He laughed incredulously, shook his head. ‘And Sandy’s out there somewhere.’ He looked up at the hill. ‘He sounds mad.’
‘He’s gone. He won’t come back while I’ve got a gun.’
‘You with a gun.’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, Barbara, what you’ve done for me.’ His voice broke with emotion. Barbara took a deep breath. She had to be practical now, practical. Sandy was gone but there were so many other dangers.
‘I’ve got some clothes here. You should change and shave off your beard. No, there’s not enough light for that, we’ll have to do that at the cathedral. But change.’
‘Yes.’ He took her hands. ‘God, you’ve thought of everything.’ He studied her in the gloom. ‘How different you look.’
‘So do you.’
‘The clothes. And you’re wearing perfume.
You never used to do that. It smells so strange.’
She bent and started unpacking the rucksack. It was hard to see among the trees, she should have brought a torch. ‘I’ve got a warm coat in here.’
‘Did you come through the town?’
‘Yes. It was very quiet.’
‘The camp should have radioed to the civiles by now.’
‘We didn’t see any.’
‘Have you a car?’
‘Yes. One with diplomatic number plates. Harry’s car. It’s hidden outside the town, we’re going to drive you back to the embassy. They’ll have to take you in.’
‘Won’t Harry get into trouble?’
‘They won’t know he was involved. We’ll leave you outside and you can say you stole the clothes, broke into a house or something, then hitch-hiked.’
Bernie looked at her, then suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, Barbara, I thought I was finished, then I heard you were going to save me. And I abandoned you to go back to the war. Barbara, I’m so sorry—’
‘No. No. Look, darling, come on. Someone might come. You have to change.’
‘All right.’
Bernie began undressing, grunting painfully as he took off the shirt he had worn for days, stuck to his body with dirt. In the gloom Barbara caught glimpses of scars, of the physique she had loved reduced to skin and bone.
A few minutes later he stood before her dressed in Sandy’s suit, coat and trilby that she’d brought from home, crushed from the rucksack but making him look plausibly normal except for his dirty tramp’s face and beard. She pulled at a couple of creases. ‘There,’ she said softly. She had a sudden wild desire to laugh. ‘You’ll do.’
THE HALF HOUR after the priest left was the longest in Harry’s life. He and Sofia paced about uneasily, looking between the door and the old man. They had had a narrow escape with the priest. And they were on the verge of happiness, he and Sofia and perhaps Paco too. Let nothing else go wrong, he prayed to the God he didn’t believe in, nothing else.
