Michael Pearce - A dead man of Barcelona

‘He was, yes.’

‘And had many dealings with them? Let us not say what the dealings were.’

‘He had much to do with them, yes.’

‘Was it not surprising, then, that he should go out of his way to help you?’

‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But…’

‘But what?’

‘I think he felt sorry for us,’ she said.

‘About Ramon?’

‘Yes.’

‘He wasn’t with the fishermen on this?’

‘He felt they had gone too far. That it wasn’t necessary. They could have just warned him off, couldn’t they?’ she said bitterly. ‘It is not just the man who is punished but the family.’

‘Would he have heeded the warning?’

She hesitated.

‘He was stubborn,’ she said. ‘And we were desperate. He doesn’t come from these parts. He’s from Andalusia. They wouldn’t have let him in, only I’m from here. From the harbour. My father was one of them. So they let him in, but they didn’t like it. They felt I shouldn’t have married someone from outside. And maybe they were right, for he didn’t see things the way they did.’

‘About the smuggling?’

‘The smuggling was all right. It was what they smuggled.’

‘Guns?’

She nodded. ‘He said guns were a different thing. And why should he risk himself, and us, for them? It was not his cause, he said. Well, they didn’t like it, but they would probably have let it go. But he was seen talking to someone known as a police agent. So they said, “He is going to betray us.” ’

‘And was he going to?’

‘We were desperate,’ she said simply. ‘They didn’t let us have good places. We always had to fish where it was bad, and so he didn’t catch much, and the children went hungry. And he became angry.’

‘And then they killed him.’

‘Yes. They are bitter men around here. I told him, and what they could do. “I am a bitter man, too,” he said. “Poverty makes bitter men.” But I knew what we were like.’

‘I am sorry that they killed him,’ said Seymour.

She shrugged.

‘I think Lockhart was,’ she said. ‘And that was why he helped us.’

‘He, too, was killed,’ said Seymour.

‘Yes.’

‘I am trying to find out who killed him.’

‘You won’t find out,’ she said. ‘Any more than they will find out who killed Ramon.’

She looked at Chantale. ‘And you, too, lady, had best be careful. You are not from these parts. And they do not like people who come from outside.’

‘And yet they liked Lockhart,’ said Seymour.

‘He had money. And they were told he was on their side.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. He liked the Catalans, it was said. But did he like all Catalans? Did he like people like them? He was angry about Ramon. They didn’t like that.

‘Well, now he is dead, too. Life is cheap on this coast. A fisherman’s life is hard. It looks calm and sunny, and so it is during the day. But in the night a man can easily go overboard. The nets, you see, are heavy, and a sudden lurch can pull you. I know this because I have lived in this harbour all my life and so did my father before me, and his father. And both of them died early.’

‘A farewell drink?’ said Seymour, and led Ricardo into a bar.

‘Farewell?’

Seymour nodded. ‘I shall soon be leaving you. In a way, it is a pity, because I would like to see if Catalonia succeeds.’

‘It certainly will,’ said Ricardo confidently.

‘It may, however, take some time,’ said Seymour.

‘We can wait.’

‘I am afraid you may have to. Did not Tragic Week teach you this?’

‘What I learned from Tragic Week was that next time we should have more guns.’

‘Enough guns to fight an army?’ Seymour shook his head. ‘That is a lot of guns. Especially without Lockhart.’

‘We didn’t get that many guns from Lockhart.’

‘Someone told me that his enthusiasm was falling off anyway.’

Ricardo looked at him quickly.

‘That is not true,’ he said.

‘Isn’t it? Someone told me he had been very unhappy about Ramon.’

‘We were all unhappy about Ramon.’

‘Lockhart felt, I gather, that it was unnecessary.’

‘Some people argued that. I myself may have felt that. But those who were close to it were sure that he was going to tell everything. And you have to understand that for them it was not a game. Their livelihood depended on it. Their lives, even. Yes, they were devoted to the Catalan cause. But once they had got involved, it went deeper. They had put their families, their children, at risk. That’s what I told him. It is not just a matter of romantic enthusiasm for a cause, I said. At some point it bites deeper. You have to be prepared to make sacrifices.

‘Well, he flushed at that. “You don’t think I’m serious?” he said. “No, it’s not that,” I said. “I think you are serious. But you’re not serious like us.” “Because I’m not Catalan?” he said. “You can’t be,” I said. “Don’t think we’re not grateful. But in the end this is something we would kill for if we had to. And it’s not like that for you. It can’t be.” “I will show you,” he said.

‘Well, I didn’t quite know what he meant by that. He would give us more money, perhaps? But I don’t think that was what he had in mind. I think what he had in mind was what he did during Tragic Week. He went out on the streets and risked his life. Yes, I’m sure it was so that he could bear witness and perhaps stop some of the worst things from happening. That would be just the sort of Quixotic thing he would think of. But I think it was also to demonstrate that he was not afraid, that he was not some pussy-footing do-gooder, but was prepared to risk himself, like us. That he was, in a way, serious.

‘And at first when I saw him out there I didn’t mind. This will really bring home to him, I thought, what it’s all about. He will see what we suffer and what they do to us. And then, maybe his feet will warm up. Because, yes, you’re right, he was beginning to get cold feet. He wasn’t so ready with his cash. “What are you going to do with the guns,” he said, “when you get them? Kill more Ramones?” So, yes, he was beginning to get cold feet, and I thought that maybe what he saw during Tragic Week would stiffen his purpose. So I didn’t mind, I didn’t think he would be killed, of course. I didn’t even think he would be put in prison. They don’t usually put rich people in prison here, I thought they would have seen him and said, he’s not doing any harm. Just another of those do-gooding, well-meaning nuts.

‘Even when I heard that he had been put in prison, I didn’t mind. That will bring it home to him, too, I said to myself. Because our prisons are not exactly holiday homes. He’ll learn now, I thought, what the real world is like.

‘And then, Christ, when I heard that he was dead, I couldn’t believe it! Even him, I thought! Those bastards!

‘So there you are, Senor Seymour. You’ve obviously been asking around and you’ve learned a few things. And maybe Ramon sticks in your gullet a bit, as it did in Lockhart’s. But what you’ve got to realize is that this is Catalonia not England. You come from a country where life is easy. Well, it isn’t here!’

‘I came out here,’ said Seymour, ‘to find out who killed Lockhart. Not to take sides.’

‘You do have to take sides,’ said Ricardo. ‘That is why he died.’

‘Well, is it?’ said Seymour.

‘Is it?’ said Ricardo, taken aback.

‘Ever since I have been here,’ said Seymour, ‘people have been pushing me to take sides. That is the explanation, they said, the explanation for Lockhart’s death, the explanation for everything. Catalans, Arabs, anarchists — even the Spanish. They all invited me to take sides and often that is an explanation. But I don’t believe that it is.’