The Fountains of Silence (35 page)

91

Ana walks down the seventh-floor hallway, the steel passkeys hanging heavy in her apron pocket. What time did Daniel leave for the photo assignment? She lets herself into his room. Has he thought of the dance as she has? Julia’s lecturing was nonstop.

“He’s a rich boy from Texas and a guest at the hotel.
Ay
, what are you doing, Ana? It’s some sort of fling for him. For you this could have terrible consequences. What about Fuga? He seems to have . . .” She searched for a word. “Potential.”

“Fuga has more potential than Daniel?”

“I see. Now you’re on a first-name basis with
Señor
Matheson?”

“Stop. I’ve never given Fuga a thought before today and you haven’t either. He’s a bullfighter, Julia. You believe there’s a safer future with a bullfighter than with an American boy?”

“You’re from the same culture. You share similar struggles. Common ground paves for smoother relationships. Antonio’s parents suffered the same fate as ours. He understands me. Deeply.”

Her sister means well, but her objections have grown tenfold overnight. Julia knows her well enough to see that she’s feeling something. And she is. She loves spending time with Daniel. She feels safe with him.

Ana thinks on her sister’s words. “It could have terrible consequences.” She pulls the note from her pocket. It was in her apron when she arrived this morning. Just when she thought perhaps things were changing, threats fading, they return as if she’s being watched from every corner.

You are a liar, little mouse. Do you know what happens to liars?

She’s tried to forget the notes. She’s ignored the notes. But today, she’s angered by them.

Ana looks to the wall of photos. What did Daniel think of the captions from Tom Collins? Did he even notice them? Did he see her caption under his picture? As she nears the wall, she knows that he did see the message. The caption,
Hola, Daniel
, is gone. In its place is a new caption that now says,
Hola, Ana. Would you like to dance?

She thinks of Daniel’s question near the car in Vallecas, if there was a way to help.

Julia reminds her constantly of silence, but Daniel reminds her there are those who will listen. She wants to leave him a note, but what should it say? Ana’s expected to cower and cave to demand, keep everything from everyone. What if instead of what’s expected, she does the unexpected? A secret isn’t a secret if you share it.

She’s going to tell Daniel everything.

92

“Join us in the embassy car. We’ll drop you at the hotel,” says Mr. Van Dorn.

“That would be mighty kind of you,” says Daniel’s father.

Daniel had hoped to be alone with his father. His questions have been fast accumulating. But there is something Van Dorn can weigh in on.

“Mr. Van Dorn, may I ask a question?”

“You bet.”

“What’s America’s position on the dictatorship?”

“Well, that’s a big question,” intercepts his father.

“But a fair one,” says Van Dorn. “Daniel’s probably seen enough of Madrid to observe a disparity. The administration feels that bringing American commerce to Spain will help the Spanish people in the long run, more than it will help the dictatorship.”

“And the U.S. air bases here?”

“Strategic positioning. Keeping us all safe from the Soviets.” Van Dorn winks.

The answers seem fair, even if well rehearsed. But of course they’re well rehearsed. Journalists and photographers capture stories and, as public affairs officer, Van Dorn positions them in the best frame and most flattering light.

“Have you made any friends so far in Madrid?” asks Van Dorn.

“A few,” says Daniel. The minute he responds, he regrets it.

“Really?” says his father. “Your mother will be pleased. Who are they?”

Daniel fiddles with his camera. “Well, Nick and Ben, of course. It was nice of him to bring me today. And Miguel at the camera shop. I’m learning a lot from him.”

Van Dorn turns from the front seat. “And maybe a pretty maid at the hotel?” He gives another wink and laughs.

“Dan is a gentleman,” says his father flatly. His tone is curt. Implication hangs in the car. Is his father stating that Nick isn’t a gentleman? Or is his father implying that his son wouldn’t fall for a maid?

“Of course he’s a gentleman,” says Van Dorn. “A boxing photographer of a gentleman. He must take after his mother . . . or an uncle.” Mr. Van Dorn extends the dig with a smile and offers a smoke to his father. “Cigar to celebrate your big deal?”

“Mighty kind, but no thank you, Shep.”

Van Dorn turns back around and stares out the windshield.

What just happened? In a matter of seconds, his father and Mr. Van Dorn have faced off. The hum of tension in the car is louder than the traffic. Daniel lifts his camera to load a roll of film. Hanging from his camera strap is the press badge. Ben forgot to take it back. Daniel quickly stuffs it in his pocket.

93

“You opened a coffin?” whispers Antonio. He steals a glance at the orange crate where Lali sleeps. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Well, we didn’t open it. It sort of . . . broke,” says Rafa. “When Fuga saw it was empty, he exploded. He often says that the infant caskets feel too light, but I never paid much attention.”

“Caskets? There have been others?”

“
Ay
, many infant coffins. They brought another one yesterday.”

“Who brings them?”

“Fuga says the clinics. I’m generally at the slaughterhouse when they arrive.”

Antonio limps across the dirt floor of the shack. Rafa’s knee bobs as if powered by its own interior motor. Should he have told Antonio? He needs to keep Fuga focused. He thought perhaps Antonio would have suggestions.

“Fuga insists we must do something about the empty coffins. It’s distracting him and that’s dangerous. A distracted bullfighter ends up gored.”

“What does he think is happening?” asks Antonio.

“The ‘brothers’ who ran the boys’ home in Barcelona always told Fuga he was worthless, that if he was an infant they’d at least be able to sell him to Franco. He thinks babies born to Republican or poor families are being stolen, that the Church wants the children redeemed and raised by Francoists.
Ay
, I need him to forget about the cemetery and the coffins. We finally have a promoter interested.”

Antonio shakes his head. “Fuga’s not sidetracked. He’s engaging more deeply. You speak often of Fuga’s dedication to children. You say he goes hungry, he gives his own food away. This is what propels him. He’s fighting not for himself, but for others.”

Maybe Antonio is right. Could this be Fuga’s approach to fear? Fuga fears nothing for himself but wants to be the protector of others.

Antonio stops pacing. His expression softens, untangled by an idea. “The Texano and his camera. He’s taking pictures back to America.”

“So?”

“Images are powerful. They convey truth. Why do you think our media is censored? Ask the eager Texano to come and take photographs at the cemetery. He’ll have record of what’s happening. That may calm Fuga.”

“
Ay
, no. Talk of the Texano does not calm Fuga. It angers him. If I bring the Texano to the cemetery, Fuga may want to fight him. It’s all such a mess.”

“But the way you describe Fuga, he doesn’t look to fight. He looks to defend.”

Rafa thinks on Antonio’s words and Fuga’s recent behavior. Immediately following the
capea
, Fuga gave his winnings to Ana. Initially, he thought that meant Fuga had feelings for Ana. But does it mean he thinks she needs protection—protection that money can provide? Rafa scratches the back of his neck. Does Fuga see something dangerous around his sister that he missed? Something about the Texano?

Antonio tucks in his shirt. “I have to leave for work,” he says. “But,
por favor
, Rafa. Do not tell Julia about the empty coffins. Promise me.”

“
Ay
, do you think I’m crazy? I would never tell Julia.”

94

Bringing American commerce to Spain will help the Spanish people
. That’s what Van Dorn said.

Franco’s an architect. There is a dark side here.
That’s what Ben said.

Which is true? And whose side is his father on? Daniel wonders as he and his dad arrive back at the hotel.

His mother waits in the lobby wearing a blend of haute couture and apprehension. Her face brightens when she sees her husband and son.

“I didn’t expect to see you together,” she says.

“Nor did I,” says his father.

“Ben Stahl needed a photographer,” explains Daniel.

“And he chose you? Daniel, how wonderful!” She means it. Despite his father’s disinterest, his mother has always supported his photography. She then lowers her voice and his parents speak below their breath. “So, how did it go?”

“Swifter than I imagined. We signed.”

“It’s done?” his mother gasps. “How marvelous!”

“Yes. Installation dates for the equipment must be arranged, but at this point, that’s just a technicality.”

His parents are clearly thrilled. But . . . marvelous. Is it really? Daniel questions.

His father smiles at his mother. “You look lovely. Ready to go?”

Carlitos appears at their side. “
Hola
,
Señor
Matheson. I have some messages for you.”

Daniel’s father extends his hand.

“No, not for you,
señor
, for your son.” Carlitos hands a few message slips to Daniel.

“My, my, you’re popular,” says his mother. “Who are they from?”

Daniel folds the messages and puts them in his pocket without looking at them.

“Aren’t you going to read them?” presses his mother.

“
Ay
, he knows they’re from the owner of the camera shop,” says Carlitos. “
Señor
is consumed with photography. Pictures, pictures, and more pictures.”

Daniel nods to the boy in silent gratitude. “Shall we have lunch?” he asks his parents.

“Oh, I’m sorry,
cariño
. Your father and I have an engagement. We’ll be back soon.” His mother gives his hand a squeeze. “I can’t wait to see your photos from this morning.”

His parents depart and Daniel tips Carlitos. “Thanks, Buttons.”

“It’s nothing,
señor
,” says Carlitos, his high voice full of humor. “Remember, here at the hotel we understand the importance of privacy.”

Once in the elevator, Daniel pulls the message slips from his pocket.

9:45 a.m. From Tom Collins

Request meeting. Important.

A meeting with Tom Collins. Instant smile.

10:30 a.m. From Nicholas Van Dorn

Come over for my birthday lunch around 2:00 p.m.

The corridor of the seventh floor is quiet. He removes the photo
badge from his pocket and reattaches it to his camera strap. Hopefully he can take to the street and snap some photos before Ben wakes up. With an official badge, the guards—those Crows—won’t be able to stop him. He lets himself into his room. It’s warm and sunny. The balcony door is open just as he likes it.

His jeans and plaid shirt are waiting on the bench at the end of the bed, as if Ana knows the first thing he’ll do is abandon the suit. He looks to the wall, wondering if she has seen his new caption. Is that why she wants to meet? Then he realizes.

His picture and caption are still on the wall, but several of the photos aren’t.

They’re gone.