Tango (18 page)

William was back on his feet before he consciously thought. He had a vivid impression of the soldier’s startled young face and of the blind immobility of the wet hunched figures. As he
turned he saw similar figures grouped around the steps of the adjoining huts. He ran back the way he had come, aware of shouting only after he had passed the roofed path. Twice he slipped on the
grass, once his glasses nearly came off.

He ran across the exercise yard to the doorway by his car and panting, closed the door behind him. It locked with bars that pushed down and could not be opened from without. He flicked the brass
switch on the green wall and the strip-lights went out. He leaned against the door, panting and listening. There were footsteps and shouts and he caught the word ‘
coche
’
– car – after which the voices faded. His chest still heaved, his heart thumped and his thigh muscles quivered. It crossed his mind that that was probably the farthest he had run since
leaving school. It wouldn’t do; he would begin exercising when he returned to normal life.

He felt his way up the corridor, helped by some light from the waiting-room at the top. His breathing was still not normal when he got there. The far door opened and Carlos came out, composed
and smiling.

‘Ah, Wooding. You see, I have not been long. Did anyone disturb you?’

‘No one disturbed me. I disturbed someone else. I’ll tell you about it. Is it all right if I go to the lavatory first?’

‘Of course. You may find Theresa in there.’

She was not. Relief was beyond words, at first even a little painful, but he knew the bliss to come. The cistern was as noisy as he had feared but there was no minding that now. On his way out
he could not help looking into the open door. It was, as he had thought, the doctor’s surgery. There was a narrow untidy bed with a metal frame. Beside the bed stood Theresa, wearing white
knickers and a white bra. She was adjusting the left shoulder-strap, her hair spread across both shoulders and over her breasts. Her face was turned towards the strap but she saw him out of the
corner of her eye. She met his gaze calmly, unsmiling. Neither spoke. The strap adjusted, she bent to pick up her suspender belt. William went back to Carlos.

‘Something nasty is happening in your palace.’

Carlos was stretching like Ricardo, staring at his fingertips. Like Ricardo, he stopped in mid-stretch. ‘Something nasty?’

William told what he had seen.

‘Oh, the prisoners.’ Carlos abandoned his stretch. ‘Yes, they’re always here now.’

‘But they’re being tortured.’

‘That’s Manuel and the security police.’

‘Can’t you stop it?’

‘Me?’

‘You’re the president, aren’t you?’

Carlos looked surprised and irritated. ‘Of course I’m the president, but I can’t
do
anything. I can
do
nothing, nothing at all. Why do you think I have to
come secretly to the medical centre for my pleasure? I am a fugitive in my own palace. I can do nothing without the agreement of the triumvirate – Herrera, Paulotti and Quinto. These
prisoners are political prisoners,
their
prisoners. Everything political is theirs. I am political and I am theirs. Otherwise, do you think I would tolerate having my women for twenty
minutes on a doctor’s couch?’

‘Are you really powerless?’

‘How does it look to you?’ Carlos stretched again, then his loose lips widened into a smile. ‘Mind you, that twenty minutes was worth the candle, as we used to say in England.
I am very grateful to you.’

A klaxon sounded deafeningly in the corridor. Carlos hurried to a cupboard and the noise stopped. The remaining corridor lights went out.

‘Fuses,’ he said, ‘the only way.’ Other klaxons were sounding outside. ‘It’s the general alarm. There must be an intruder. Now they’ll surround my
quarters and I shan’t be able to get back in. They don’t know I’m out.
Dios mío
, what it is to be president. Who would believe me?’ He looked angry and
frightened.

‘It’s probably me they’re looking for.’

‘You must stay here. You can’t leave until they give up.’

‘But they’ll find my car.’

‘Well, they’ll just tow it away or blow it up.’

Theresa appeared, dressed now and with her coat over one arm. Carlos smiled extravagantly.

‘Please accept my apologies for this small disturbance. It will mean some delay in your leaving. Perhaps we should have coffee.’ He took out some keys and unlocked the other door.
‘There’s a kettle and some things in there.’ He sat in one of the armchairs, indicating to William to do likewise.

Theresa put down her coat and handbag and went into the other room where she could be heard moving cups. Carlos turned to William. ‘Not bad at all,’ he said in English. ‘Very
good, considering the circumstances. I shall see her again, but we must try to make better arrangements. We should find someone for you, too. I felt a little guilty’ – he laughed
– ‘well, no, a little concerned, about your hanging around without anything to do.’

‘You don’t need to worry about me.’

‘Of course not, but you know what I mean. I should like to reward you in some way.’ He leaned across and, looking very serious, held out his hand. ‘William, now I think we can
be even better friends than we were at school.’

William tried to think only of doing his duty by Box. ‘I’m pleased to be asked to help.’

‘You are the only man I can trust.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you are a spy.’

‘Does that make me trustworthy?’

‘Yes, you are in my power. You are the only man in the country who is. I could have you shot. Manuel Herrera would organise it – he has said so – but I asked him not to because
you are a friend of mine and because, being a British spy, you do no harm. Not like the Americans. So I asked Manuel to leave you alone and he said, okay, so long as you don’t do anything
such as seeking unauthorised contact with me – like this.’ Carlos beamed. ‘If you are caught you are shot. So you are in my power. So we are friends and we can trust each
other.’

‘What about you? Might they not shoot you as well?’

‘Not while I am popular with the people. But one does not know how long that will last. The people are fickle. If things go wrong, Manuel and the others will blame me; then they will shoot
me.’

‘Does that worry you?’

‘Of course it does. I want to live a long and peaceful and selfish life. I don’t want to harm anyone or even do anything. But they want me to do things, and things go wrong when you
start doing them. At least, that is my experience.’

Theresa came in with two coffees on a tray. William was as aware of her moving near him as he would have been of a source of heat. Now on his neck, now the side of his face, now the back of his
hand. It was difficult to concentrate.

‘But what can you do about it?’ he asked.

Carlos shrugged. ‘I don’t know. At first I liked being president. It was better than being a colonel. But now it is hard and there is no fun. I wish I could be president without
being in the government.’

Theresa was leaving them. William turned. ‘Aren’t you having any?’

Carlos looked as if he had just remembered her. He waved his arm. ‘Yes, have your coffee with us. Bring it in.’

There were sounds of vehicles and shouting outside. The klaxons continued.

‘Won’t they realise you’re missing?’ asked William.

‘Not yet. This is the outside guard and I left orders not to be disturbed. We should be all right in here. But I have to get back soon. I look to you for that. The British Secret Service
is famous for that sort of thing, is it not?’ He smiled at Theresa.

‘I have sent for assistance.’

Carlos looked gratifyingly surprised. ‘You have? But how will they get in here?’

‘They – he – will find a way.’

‘He? Is there only one?’

‘Yes, but he’s very good and the more people you have the more likely they are to be seen.’ William was pleased with his answer.

Carlos looked doubtful. ‘All this noise outside – it might mean they’ve caught him.’

‘He’s probably creating a diversion.’

‘He can do that sort of thing?’

‘Oh yes.’ Once launched, it was easy to sail on confidently. The fact that each claim might be taking him farther from reality did not make it more difficult; it became easier.
‘He’s a master of disguise and infiltration.’

‘Is he armed?’

‘He doesn’t need to be.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘That’s up to him. I never know in advance.’

Carlos was impressed. ‘Could you and he get a message to the Americans for me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Ask them to intervene and get rid of this government, and then set up a new government with me as president again.’

‘Okay.’

‘And give us lots of money.’

‘Right.’

‘It seems absurdly simple but when you think about it, that’s really all it needs. Will he be able to fix that, this man?’

‘Bound to.’

‘William, again I thank you.’

They stood to shake hands. William felt fraudulent in front of Theresa.

There was renewed shouting outside but Carlos was unworried. ‘Good. I am pleased that is settled. This has been a good evening.’ He looked at Theresa. ‘Now, we shall go and see
what they are doing out there. Perhaps we shall see your-friend evade them, William. There is a window that overlooks this part of the palace. Follow me.’

He led them into the darkened corridor and up several flights of stone steps. Arc-lights had been switched on outside and there were enough windows to let some light in. They came to a small
square room littered with broken chairs, old mattresses and planks of wood. There were windows in each wall through which they could see the palace lit like a football stadium. The area swarmed
with troops and vehicles. William looked for the huts where he had seen the prisoners. The nearest was blocked out by the roof of the medical centre but those beyond were bathed in light. Two
soldiers guarded each door, one facing outwards, the other inwards. The windows, he now saw, were boarded up.

‘There’s your car,’ said Carlos.

It was being towed round the corner of some sheds by a lorry, the boot and bonnet open. The lorry took the corner too sharply and the side of the car was dragged along the wall.

‘They’ll probably take it to pieces now,’ said Carlos.

Theresa was at another window. ‘Something is happening here.’

On the far side of the exercise yard was a hearse and coffin surrounded by soldiers. A short man stood on the bonnet, gesticulating, while soldiers pointed their rifles at him. A tall man,
apparently an officer, appeared and the short man got off the bonnet. They stood apart, talking.

‘Have they killed someone?’ asked Carlos.

‘Perhaps they are going to,’ Theresa said.

‘That is our rescue,’ said William. After a while, the officer saluted, turned away from Box and shouted at the soldiers. They quickly formed up on either side of the hearse, and,
with Box driving, began to escort it at slow march pace across the yard.

‘Your friend knows what he’s doing,’ said Carlos, admiringly.

‘He won’t be able to get in,’ said William. ‘I locked the door and told him to look for the lights, like you told me.’

They went quickly downstairs and Carlos reconnected the fuse. The klaxons had stopped but the main corridor lights came on. They decided William should be at the door to receive Box. The chances
of his being recognised as the man who had blundered amongst the prisoners were not great, whereas Carlos was certain to be recognised. Exposing Theresa was also out of the question. The soldiers
might just be controllable in the presence of the officer but the officer himself could not be trusted, Carlos said.

‘I know my officers,’ he continued. ‘He would be in here in thirty seconds – less, if he is a colonel.’

‘Why if he is a colonel?’

‘Colonels have more honour.’

‘Then couldn’t he be more trusted?’

Carlos smiled. ‘You have an English conception of honour, Wooding. For us it is dishonour not to seduce a beautiful woman. When I was a young officer a colonel of my regiment shot himself
because it became known he had failed with the wife of the adjutant. The adjutant shot his wife for bringing dishonour upon him and then himself for bringing dishonour upon the regiment. You see,
women are a serious matter for us. Not like with you English.’

‘I think something is happening outside,’ said Theresa.

Carlos took her hand. ‘Wooding will see to it. He will bring his friend to us. We will go back to the surgery and wait.’ He turned to William. ‘You need not hurry.’

William watched in the corridor. He could hear feet marking time, then shouted commands. He knocked up the bar that locked the door.

The hearse was drawn up outside flanked by soldiers at attention. Box gave William a nonchalant wave as he got out.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said in English.

‘What is all this?’

‘EE(C) kit. I want to bury it. It’s all right, no one here speaks English. I told them I’d come to collect a dead admiral. They weren’t going to let me in otherwise
– well, they didn’t anyway, I just drove in and kept going until they stopped me. All hell on the loose when I got here. They after someone?’

‘Yes, me, actually.’

‘Good. You’ve been active. Well done.’

The officer was looking on, his sword drawn. ‘What are they doing now?’ William asked.

‘Guard of honour. I told them the admiral died under interrogation and the president wanted him buried in secret. Pretty difficult with my Spanish.’

‘Difficult with any Spanish. There aren’t any admirals. There isn’t a navy.’

‘That must have been what the officer chappie was on about. Couldn’t make it out. “
Imposible, imposible
,” he kept saying. I slipped him 500 US and then it became
“
Por su puesto, señor
, at once,
señor.
” Best thing that’s ever come out of old Uncle Sam, the old greenback. Works the world over.’

For the sake of verisimilitude the coffin had to be taken in. Six soldiers were detailed as bearers. They were the peasants Theresa had described, square strong men with broad shoulders and no
necks, but even they staggered for a moment beneath the supposedly empty coffin. William told them it was lead-lined. They carried it into the waiting-room and laid it on the creaking table. The
officer dismissed them and, seeing the coffee cups, took off his cap.