A Thunderous Whisper (13 page)

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. People sell each other out for less.”

“True. So who do you think we should trust?”

I thought about it for a moment. “How about Señor Beltran? I used to hear my dad say nice things about him.”

Mathias shrugged. “Sure. He seems to be calling a lot of the shots anyway.”

I pinched my lips together and stared at the people returning to work after lunch. “The only catch will be getting him to pay attention to what some kids have to say.”

“Oh, he’ll listen.” Mathias eyed the crowd and then looked back at me. “We’ll make sure of it.”

TWENTY-ONE

“I
s Señor Beltran here or not?” Mathias asked the old woman, his voice rising with frustration.

“I already told you two to be on your way. Now go!” The gray-haired maid scowled at us and started to close the door.

“We just need to speak to him for a minute,” I pleaded for the third time while Mathias pushed against the door with both hands. “He’ll want to see us.”

The door swung open, almost causing Mathias to fall into the foyer of the home.

“See you? Ha!” The old woman threw her head back for a moment, then fixed her narrow eyes on us. “A couple of scrawny kids show up—at the front door, no less—and expect an important man like Señor Beltran to speak with them? Just the thought of it!” She pointed a bony finger at us. “I don’t know what kind of game you two are playing, but—”

“Señor Beltran!” Mathias yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Stop that.” The woman gave a quick glance up the flight
of stairs before looking back at me. “He’s not here. Should’ve told you that earlier … so just go.”

Mathias shouted again, and I joined in. “Señor Beltran!” we screamed in unison.

Panic crossed the old woman’s face. “What are you doing? Stop that!” She tried forcing us out, but Mathias shouldered his way farther into the room.

We both kept yelling.

“Please!” The old woman grabbed Mathias’s
makila
. Wrenching it out of his hands, she used it as a bat to make us move back.

“What is going on?” a gruff voice called from somewhere inside.

“Perdóneme, señor.”
The old woman turned her attention to someone behind the door. “It’s these horrid children. I tried to send them away because I knew you were resting, but—”

I pushed my way into the house while the old woman was distracted. “Señor Beltran, we need to speak to you!”

The moment our eyes met, Señor Beltran could clearly tell something was going on.

“Matilde, let me see what they want and I’ll send them on their way,” he said.

“But I …” Matilde’s eyes darted from Señor Beltran to us and back again.

Señor Beltran lifted up a finger to silence the old woman. “Just go make some coffee and bring it to me in the study.”

She nodded, glared at us as if we were the devil’s own children, then disappeared toward the back of the house.

The moment she was out of earshot, Señor Beltran’s
placid expression changed to a mixture of concern and anger. “This better be good,” he said in a low voice.

“It is. Tell him.” Mathias pushed me forward.

“Well, the thing is,” I mumbled, “I heard, um—”

“Speak clearly, girl. Keep your voice low, but just spit it out.”

“Sí, señor.”
I took a deep breath. “I was in Bermeo this morning, and this fisherman was telling me about an explosion that was going to happen—”

“An explosion? Why would someone talk to
you
about this?”

“Well, he wasn’t actually in his right mind,” Mathias explained.

“You were there too?” Señor Beltran quizzed Mathias.

“Um, no. But I—”

Señor Beltran lifted his hand. “Then you don’t have anything to say.” He faced me again. “Continue.”

“Mathias is right. The man wasn’t in his right mind when he was talking to me.… He was drunk.”

“You came here, made a scene by yelling at the top of your lungs, to tell me the ramblings of a drunkard?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I knew involving children in all of this was a mistake.”

“No, you don’t understand. He was very convincing. He mentioned the Brits and their ships in France. And an attack on one of them trying to get to Bilbao.”

“I’m sure he was very believable,” Señor Beltran said in a condescending tone, then looked at Mathias. “I’m guessing your father didn’t believe you either?”

“My father won’t be home until tomorrow.”

“And Padre Iñaki is gone too,” I added.

“So, I’m your third choice, huh?” He sighed. “Listen, I’m glad you’re trying to help, but what this drunkard fears has been in all the newspapers today. Everyone knows that it’d be a devastating setback if a merchant ship were attacked in our waters, especially if it somehow makes it through Franco’s blockade, but that’s not going to happen.”

“But what if—”

“What if what? Franco’s blockade won’t hold up if the British navy keeps escorting the ships through international waters, and we’re taking care of the rest. Don’t get caught up in the rambling delusions of a drunk.” Señor Beltran turned his back to us. “Now, if you can see your way out … I have work to do.”

“What if he was telling the truth and he really does know something?” Mathias grabbed Señor Beltran by the arm. “I think—”

Señor Beltran stopped Mathias in midsentence. “Young man, your involvement is limited to just sardine deliveries … not thinking!”

There was an icy staredown between the two of them until Mathias slipped his hand off of Señor Beltran’s suit jacket. “Please, just listen to her story … for one more minute,” he said in a pleading voice.

“Fine.” Señor Beltran pulled out his pocket watch by its chain and checked the time. “You have one minute. Tell me exactly what the drunkard said about this explosion. Did he say when or where it was going to happen? Did he say a ship’s name?”

I looked down at the floor, squirming with the realization of how little I had to offer.

Señor Beltran tapped his foot. “I really don’t have time for this.”

“We just thought … I mean, I was worried because he said there’d be a big explosion.” Then I spit it all out in one long burst. “He said the Brits were greedy and the people in Bilbao could go without supplies for a little bit, and that this was his one chance to make money and that it was just one little piece of information that he’d sold.…”

I watched Señor Beltran sigh and look down at his watch again, but that didn’t stop me.

“He talked about it all being over tomorrow and to be careful because there’d be potatoes all over the seven seas and—”

Señor Beltran was shaking his head, but then he froze. “Wait, did you just say the
Seven Seas
?”

I nodded.

“He specifically said
Seven Seas
?” Señor Beltran bent his head and got closer to me. “Not that there would be potatoes scattered across the ocean or something like that?”

“No. He said
seven seas
. Why?”

Señor Beltran straightened up and thought for a minute. His smug expression had turned serious.

“The
Seven Seas
is the name of a British ship that is carrying food—namely, potatoes—through a back channel into Bilbao tonight. It’ll be the first ship to come through since Franco sent out his warships. No one is supposed to know
about that ship. We’ve also got some … let’s just say important items on board.”

“Oh.” Then I realized what he was saying.
“Oh!”

Mathias nudged me. “I knew this was important,” he whispered.

I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t believed me at first either.

“This does change things.” Señor Beltran began to pace around the small foyer. He continued to speak, but it was more as if he were talking to himself than to us. “If he made reference to the ship’s name … well, not many people know that. And you said he sold this information to someone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A drunken man’s guilty conscience isn’t much to rely on, but still …” He walked toward the back of the room. “Matilde, forget the coffee. I’ll be in my study, and I don’t want to be disturbed.” He looked back at us. “The children are leaving!”

“So, we did get good information?” I asked.

“Yes. Yes, you did.” Señor Beltran put a hand on each of our backs and guided us to the door. “Now the two of you have to go. If you hear of anything else, you come find me.”

Before we could say another word, the door was shut and locked behind us.

TWENTY-TWO

T
he next morning all I could think about was the ships trying to make it to Bilbao. Had the
Seven Seas
reached port? Was there an attack or explosion? Had we actually prevented it?

It was impossible to concentrate in class. Listening to the teacher go on and on about math equations when a war was being fought a few kilometers away … it all seemed ridiculous.

The clanging bells of Santa María caught my attention. The war had found a way to sneak into the school. Like trained sheep, everyone in the classroom quickly walked toward the front of the room and lined up by the door. There was no mistaking what this was.… The constant ringing of church bells and the distant wail of the factory siren could mean only one thing: air raid.

At least the possibility of one.

My heart beat faster. So far there hadn’t been a real attack,
but after the bombing of the Basque city of Durango a few weeks earlier, the threat seemed much more real.

I stood and followed the rest of the students as our teachers rushed us down the stairs to where a storage area beneath the building had been turned into a bomb shelter.

“Stay together and go toward the back,” one teacher shouted as other people joined us in the room.

I glanced around at the low, curved ceiling lit by a single lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room and felt the dampness of the concrete walls rub against me. It was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

Within a minute, the room was full and the air began to feel thick. I could still hear the warning bells ringing outside, and then the sound became almost imperceptible as the door was closed.

The teachers and students gathered together at the back, and everyone else who’d come seeking refuge stood closer to the entrance. As we waited for the all clear, two elderly men, who both looked to be over eighty years old, stood near the center of the room whispering to each other, and one of them broke out laughing … the sound bouncing off the walls.

As their voices became more excited and their conversation grew louder, I heard words like
ship
and
blockade
reverberate through the cavelike room.

Keeping my back to the men, I inched closer until there was only about a foot separating us and I could hear their conversation clearly.

“It went along the river all the way to Bilbao. Heard it
avoided the open sea because there was going to be an attack of some sort against it.”

“Nothing like getting some good intelligence to stop those scoundrels. Especially now that they say Franco has Moroccan mercenaries on the front lines.… Those soldiers …”

I leaned back to hear more. Why had they paused? I wanted to turn around but didn’t want to be obvious.

“Keep hearing that those Moors are looking for young schoolgirls to become their slaves … do all the cooking and cleaning. Then, when they can’t work anymore, they cut out their hearts and give them to their animals.”

I swallowed the large lump that had formed in my throat.

“Yes, pretty little girls … like this one!” A hand clamped down on my shoulder.

A small scream erupted from deep inside me.

The two old men started laughing again as every head turned toward us.

I spun around, realizing that they’d been making up the whole story.

My eyes narrowed, and I glared at them. “That’s not very funny,” I said as I heard snickering behind me.

The taller of the two men tilted his head, and like an old grandfather reproaching a young child, he wagged his finger at me. “Well, it’s not very nice to eavesdrop on Alejandro and me.”

I glanced down at my shoes. There wasn’t much I could say to that.

Alejandro, wearing a broad-brimmed hat instead of the typical beret, spoke up. His chuckling had finally started to wane. “But we really shouldn’t have scared you.” He paused
and tapped my chin. “Especially since you must be scared enough during these warning alarms.”

Looking up at the two of them, I gave a slight smile. “Sorry, I just wanted to hear more about what was happening with the war.”

“Is your father fighting?” Alejandro asked.

I nodded.

“I figured,” he said. “Good man, I’m sure.” He looked at the concrete ceiling a few inches above his head. “If only
we
were a little younger …,” he muttered wistfully.

The bells rang out again, giving the all clear, and everyone started to head out. I put my hand on the old man’s forearm to keep him from leaving. “Could you tell me what you were saying about the ships? You said one of them came up the river?”

“Ah, yes. Everyone was talking about it over at the café.” Alejandro elbowed his friend. “Franco can’t stop us with his silly blockade, right, Gustavo?”

“Never!” the tall man proclaimed proudly, pounding his chest with his fist so hard that it caused him to go into a coughing fit.

“Go get some water!” Alejandro directed as the tall man pushed his way through the crowd that was already funneling out the door.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“Oh, sure. We’re just a pair of
viejos
.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Comes with age.” He tapped a cigarette out. “Now, you wanted to know about the ships, right?”

I nodded as several students walked around us, trying to get out of the bomb shelter.

“Ships are the lifeblood of this area … especially during wartime. Gustavo and I were both seamen.… We should know.” The old man pulled out a silver lighter and with shaking hands lit his cigarette.

I was about to tell him that Papá was a seaman too, but he continued talking.