C. Sansom - Winter in Madrid

‘Sandy was always interested in geology,’ Harry said. ‘At school he had a thing about fossils, he used to go off and try to find dinosaur bones.’

‘Did he now?’ Hillgarth said. ‘Didn’t know that. He never got himself any formal qualifications that we know of, but he’s working with a man who has. Alberto Otero.’

‘The man with experience in South Africa?’

‘Just so.’ Hillgarth nodded approvingly. ‘Mining engineer. They gave you some reading up on gold mining back home, I believe.’

‘Yes, sir.’ It had been odd, grappling with the heavy textbooks in the evening in his little room.

‘So far as Forsyth’s concerned, of course, you know nothing about gold. Babe in arms on the subject.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Harry paused. ‘Do you know how Forsyth and this Otero came together?’

‘No. There are a lot of gaps. We only know that while he was working as a tour guide Forsyth got in with the Auxilio Social, the Falange organization that handles what passes for social welfare here.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s corrupt as hell. Rich pickings, with supplies so short.’

‘Does Forsyth still keep in touch with his family?’

Hillgarth shook his head. ‘His father hasn’t heard from him in years.’

Harry remembered the one time he had seen the bishop; he had come down to the school after Sandy’s disgrace to plead for his son. Looking from the classroom Harry had seen him in the quadrangle, recognized him by the red episcopal shirt under his suit. He looked solid and patrician, nothing like Sandy.

‘Forsyth supported the Nationalists, then?’ Harry asked.

‘I think it was the rich pickings he supported,’ Hillgarth replied.

‘You weren’t a Republican supporter, were you?’ Hoare gave Harry a searching look.

‘I didn’t support either side, sir.’

Hoare grunted. ‘I thought that was the great dividing line before the War, who supported the Reds in Spain and who the Nats. I’m surprised at a Hispanicist supporting neither side.’

‘Well I didn’t, sir. A plague on both their houses was what I thought.’ He’s a tetchy little bully, Harry thought.

‘I could never understand how anyone could think a Red Spain could be less than a disaster.’

Hillgarth looked irritated by the interruption. He leaned forward. ‘Forsyth wouldn’t have known any Spanish before coming out here, would he?’

‘No, but he would have picked it up quickly. He’s smart. That was one reason the masters hated him at school; he was bright but he wouldn’t work.’

Hillgarth raised his eyebrows. ‘Hated? That’s a strong word.’

‘It got to that, I think.’

‘Well, according to our man he’s got in with the state mining agency. Does wheeler-dealing for them; negotiating supplies and so on.’ He paused. ‘The Falange faction dominates the Ministry of Mines. They’d love Spain to be able to pay for food imports, instead of begging us and the Americans for loans. Trouble is, we’ve no hard intelligence in there. If you could get directly to Forsyth it could be of incalculable help. We must find out if there’s anything in these gold stories.’

‘Yes, sir.’

There was a moment’s silence, the oily swishing of the ceiling fan suddenly loud, then Hillgarth went on. ‘Forsyth works through a company he’s set up. Nuevas Iniciativas. It’s listed on the Madrid Stock Exchange as a supply procurement company. The shares have been going up, Ministry of Mines officials have been buying in. The firm has a little office near Calle Toledo; Forsyth’s there most days. Our man hasn’t been able to get his home address, which is a blasted nuisance – we just know he lives out in Vigo district with some tart. Most days at siesta time he goes for coffee to a local cafe. That’s where we want you to make contact with him.’

‘Does he go by himself?’

‘Apart from him there’s just a secretary at the office. He always takes that half-hour by himself in the afternoon.’

Harry nodded. ‘He used to like going off alone at school.’

‘We’ve had him watched. It’s bloody nerve-racking – I worry Forsyth might spot our man.’ He passed Harry a couple of photos from a file on the desk. ‘He took these.’

The first photograph showed Sandy, well dressed and tanned, walking down a street talking to an army officer. Sandy had bent to catch his words, his face solemnly attentive. The second showed him striding carelessly along, jacket unbuttoned, smoking. There was a confident, knowing smile on his face.

‘He looks prosperous.’

Hillgarth nodded. ‘Oh, he’s not short of money.’ He turned back to the file. ‘The flat we’ve got you is a couple of streets from his office. It’s on the fringe of a poor area, but with the housing shortage it’ll be credible to house a junior diplomat there.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Your flat’s actually not bad, I’m told. Used to belong to some Communist functionary under the Republic. Probably been shot by now. Settle in there, but don’t go to the cafe yet.’

‘What’s it called, sir?’

‘Café Rocinante.’

Harry smiled wryly. ‘The name of Don Quijote’s horse.’

Hillgarth nodded, then looked steadily at Harry. ‘Word of advice,’ he said with a smile, his tone friendly though his eyes were hard. ‘You look too serious, like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. Cheer up a bit, smile. Look on it as an adventure.’

Harry blinked. An adventure. Spying on an old friend who was working with fascists.

The ambassador gave a sudden harsh laugh. ‘Adventure! Dear God preserve us. There are too many adventurers in this damn country if you ask me.’ He turned to Harry, his face animated. ‘Listen, Brett. You sound like you’ve got your head screwed on, but be damned careful. I agreed to your coming because it’s important we find out what’s going on, but I don’t want you upsetting any applecarts.’

‘I’m not sure I understand, sir.’

‘This regime is divided in two. Most of the generals who won the Civil War are solid sensible people who admire England and want Spain kept out of the war. It’s my job to build bridges and strengthen their hand with Franco. I don’t want it getting to the Generalísimo that we’ve got spies nosing round one of his pet projects.’

Hillgarth nodded.

‘I understand,’ said Harry. Hoare doesn’t want me here at all, he thought. I’m in the middle of some bloody piece of politics.

Hillgarth rose. ‘Well, I’ve got this ceremony for the Naval Heroes of Spain. Better show the flag, eh, ambassador?’

Hoare nodded and Hillgarth rose, Harry and Tolhurst following. Hillgarth picked up the file and handed it to Harry. It had a red cross on the front.

‘Tolly will take you to your flat. Take Forsyth’s dossier, have a good look, but bring it back tomorrow. Tolly will show you where to sign it out.’

As they left, Harry turned to look at Hoare. He was staring out of the window, frowning at the airmen who had started to drift back into the yard.

OUTSIDE THE AMBASSADOR’S ROOM Tolhurst smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry about Sam,’ he said in a low voice. ‘He wouldn’t normally be in at a briefing for a new agent, but he’s nervous about this job. He’s got a rule: intelligence gathering is allowed, but no espionage, no antagonizing the regime. Some socialists came a few weeks ago to try and get help for the guerrillas fighting against Franco. Bloody dangerous for them. He sent them packing.’

Harry hadn’t liked Hoare, but was still slightly shocked by Tolhurst calling him Sam. ‘Because he wants good relations with the Monarchists?’ he asked.

‘Exactly. After the Civil War they hate the Reds, you can imagine.’ Tolhurst fell silent as they stepped into the street, the civiles saluting as they passed. He opened the door of the Ford, wincing at the heat of the handle.