Dennis Wheatley - Vendetta in Spain

The last time he had been in the old Moorish Palace had been barely a fortnight after Angela's death, so he was now in a much more suitable frame of mind to appreciate its beauties. This time he found even more to wonder at in the Salon de Embajadores and the patios de las Munecas and de las Doncellas, with their slender pillars and stone tracery mirrored in the brightly-polished marble floors, and he could not now make up his mind if these glorious Courts or those of the Alcazar in Granada were the more beautiful. But afterwards, when he took a short stroll in the garden, he saw at once that he had been right in thinking it far superior to that of the much vaunted Generalife.

Soon after his return to the little hotel, La Torcera came downstairs. She was now wearing a dress that swept the ground, of smooth fawn cloth decorated with applique work, had huge puffed out sleeves and a ruched collar. On her head was balanced a large hat crowned by a mountain of violets.

He smiled his approval and had a carriage summoned to take them to the station. On the way she asked him why he had sent her up the filthy old robe, and he replied, 'Because, much as I regret having to ask you to do so, you will shortly have to wear it instead of your pretty new clothes. We cannot afford to risk having Sanchez or his woman recognize you, and perhaps take alarm; so it is part of a disguise that I have bought for you.'

The journey from Seville to Cadiz took only a little over an hour and the last ten miles of it was along a narrow isthmus that ran from south to north with a bulge at its extremity on which stood the city. The western side of the isthmus, washed by the Atlantic, formed part of the coastline running up towards Portugal, while the eastern side faced a mile-wide lake or, rather, gulf. This vast land-locked harbour made Cadiz one of the finest natural ports in Europe, and as de Quesnoy gazed at it from the window of the train he visualized the great fleets of galleons that once must have lain sheltered there, either assembling before setting sail for the Indies, or just returned laden with gold and silver from Mexico and Peru.

He then recalled that it was here that Sir Francis Drake had, as they said, 'Singed the King of Spain's beard.' The English

Admiral had caught assembling there a powerful squadron that was intended to form part of the Armada and, having sailed right in, had burnt or sunk the greater part of it. 'What bold courageous devils those islanders were; and they're still at it today carrying their Union Jack into all the still-unclaimed parts of Africa, Asia and the Pacific,' was the thought that ran through the Count's mind. Then, to the surprise of La Torcera, he burst out laughing, for he had suddenly remembered that he was now of British nationality himself.

Dotted along the peninsula there were villages and one quite considerable town. At all of them on both shores, tents, rows of bathing huts, concert platforms on the sand just above the tide level, roundabouts, swings and booths, showed that these long beaches were favourite holiday resorts. But now most of them were closed and there were only a few groups sitting or strolling in the evening light; for it was the 1st of October and the holiday season was over.

When they alighted at the station they found it to be on the narrow neck of the isthmus, adjacent to the main port, so they had a further mile's drive through the city to its northern extremity where lay the big hotels and the wealthy modern residential quarter. Before leaving Granada that morning the Count had wired to the Hotel Atlantico for a suite, and on reaching the hotel they were shown straight up to it. The bedrooms, on either side of a private sitting-room, looked out across the public gardens to the sea, and La Torcera, whose only experience of a luxury hotel had been sleeping in one for a few hours the previous night, did not seek to hide her amazement at the elegance and comfort.

Although, for Spain, it was still early to dine, de Quesnoy sent for the head waiter, chose dinner and ordered it to be served in the sitting-room in half an hour. By the time they had unpacked and he had freshened himself up with a wash, the floor-waiter, assisted by a white-aproned commis , had laid the table and wheeled in a trolley with spirit-lamps burning under a number of dishes.

When they had dined and fortified themselves with a good bottle of Rioja he glanced at his watch and said to his companion, 'We have done very well. It is not yet half past ten; so the night life of the city can only just be starting. As soon as you are ready we will go out and take a look at it.'

'Tonight!' her face fell. 'But you had me out of bed hours earlier than I usually get up, and in Seville I had time for only half an hour's siesta.'

He shrugged. 'You dozed for quite a while in the train this morning. Anyhow, we cannot afford to lose an evening. I am suggesting not that you should spend the night haunting bars, but that we should make a reconnaissance; then tomorrow night you will not have to waste time finding out the most likely places in which to look for Inez Giudice. While you put on your things I will go downstairs and arrange for a guide.'

A quarter of an hour later, freshly made up and now wearing only a mantilla over her black hair, she joined him below in the lounge. The hall-porter had sent for a guide and after a short wait a page-boy came to fetch them. The guide, who introduced himself as Miguel, was a very small man in his middle thirties with side-whiskers and a leery expression. Obsequiously he bowed them into a hooded carriage and took the small seat opposite them. The coachman, evidently knowing the guide and his usual programme, did not wait for any order but flicked his horse lightly with his whip and they rattled away over the cobbles.

Miguel then proceeded to sound his customers about their tastes. Had he had only a man to deal with he would have come straight to the point, but as his patron had a woman in tow he had to be tactful. There was the remote possibility that she might be his wife, in which case they would wish only to drive through the most brightly-lit streets of the city and round its old walls with a stop at the castle on the point to admire the moonlight shimmering on the Atlantic rollers as they broke over the breakwaters. If she was his mistress the odds were that after a short drive he would want to take her on a round of the better nightclubs, where they could dance and at one of which they would sup. But it was his experience that, not infrequently, rich men took their mistresses with them to brothels to watch nude cabaret shows and exhibitions of still more dubious kinds.

After pattering off his piece about Cadiz - known from its white-walled houses as 'The Silver Platter' - being the most beautiful town in Spain and that its climate, warm in winter and cooled by sea breezes in summer, made it the best of all holiday resorts, etc., etc., he went on to say that while its night-life could not rival that of Barcelona or Madrid, it had several Maisons de Dance of the first elegance and other establishments at which, if one cared for that sort of thing, one could see groups of young senoritas pose most artistically and see magic lantern displays of a curious and unusual nature.

De Quesnoy told him that they were not interested in senoritas, neither did they wish to dance that evening; but they would like to drive round to see the outsides of these places so that they might decide which they would prefer to patronize another night.

At this Miguel's sallow little face fell, as he saw disappear his hope of collecting a handsome commission from introducing his patrons at numerous places of entertainment. But he obediently gave appropriate orders to the coachman, and they drove down the brightly-lit Calle del Duque de la Victoria to the Plaza General Varela, then made a tour of the streets round about it in which considerable numbers of people were strolling.