night.’
Señor
Finn pointed north along the beach. ‘Fish. Good fish.’
‘I see. Good.’ They grinned and nodded at each other. ‘
Buenas noches.
’
‘
Buenas noches.
’
William felt happier during the latter part of his walk. He would tell Sally everything. It was better to be truthful, certainly easier, and lying probably wouldn’t work anyway. He would
tell Box afterwards.
Sally seemed neither surprised nor impressed. William was disappointed.
‘Are you sure he’s not having you on?’ she asked. ‘A privatised secret service seems a bit odd. He might be a gangster or the mafia or something.’
‘I was introduced to him at the embassy by Nightingale and Feather.’
‘That could mean anything. And who exactly are these people you know who know the president?’
‘Well, there’s Herrera – and me, of course – and those two women the president talked to in the market and who were in the restaurant today.’
‘But you hardly count. You haven’t seen Carlos since school and you weren’t all that friendly then. Who are these women?’
‘Singers, I think.’
‘Where from?’
‘I don’t know.’
She laughed. ‘You do get yourself into pickles sometimes. Only you would get mixed up with a privatised secret service, a president, a sinister colonel and a chorus. And now you’ve
got to mend a car and you don’t know one end from another.’
‘It’s just a way of getting closer to the president.’
‘It might get you as far as his garage.’
She was amused in the way she used to be when they had first known each other. He was glad he had done nothing for which he need feel guilty. Nor would he now. He would enjoy Theresa’s
company, certainly, but that was all. Anyway, he wasn’t doing it for that.
‘Might it not be dangerous?’ she asked as he was preparing to go.
‘Oh no, nothing like that.’ The notion of danger hadn’t occured to him.
‘Max Hueffer says that the Russians really are moving in a big way economically and that the government is getting more extreme. People have started disappearing.’
‘Which people?’
‘I don’t know. People who oppose the government.’
‘I wonder if that really is true. The press is fairly free.’
‘Is it?’
‘Well, not much less free than it ever was. People still hold protest demonstrations. There was one at the weekend.’
‘I thought that was a government rally.’
‘Maybe, but anyway . . .’ He was less confident now; he kept thinking of Manuel Herrera. ‘How does Max know all this?’
‘I don’t know. He just seems to know things.’
He searched for the car keys. He would take the company Datsun in case he needed to pull or push the lame Dodge. ‘Perhaps I should take some tools.’
‘Are there any?’
‘I don’t know.’
She found a hammer in one of the kitchen cupboards, a solid piece with a heavy head and claw. He put it in his duffel-coat pocket. ‘Might be better than nothing,’ he said, to
encourage himself.
He dithered over leaving. She seemed much better-humoured and he no longer wanted to go. The whole business was an uncomfortable mixture of the serious and the absurd. She kissed him, which she
hadn’t done for some time. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said.
Plaza San Marco was in the old part of the city, not far from his shop, an area of cobbled streets and large faded buildings. The darkness spawned a fine invisible rain and the wind flapped
William’s duffel-coat against his legs as he walked from the car, except where the hammer weighed it down. Theresa was already beside her Dodge, holding an umbrella and shivering beneath a
long dress and shawl.
‘There is no need, really, we don’t have to do this,’ she said straight away. ‘You can come in.’
‘No, no, it’s quite all right.’
‘Are you an expert with cars?’
‘It depends what’s wrong.’
She smiled. ‘I think you are not an expert.’
High heels made her as tall as him. She stood close while they
Señor
Finn pointed north along the beach. ‘Fish. Good fish.’
‘I see. Good.’ They grinned and nodded at each other. ‘
Buenas noches.
’
‘
Buenas noches.
’
William felt happier during the latter part of his walk. He would tell Sally everything. It was better to be truthful, certainly easier, and lying probably wouldn’t work anyway. He would
tell Box afterwards.
Sally seemed neither surprised nor impressed. William was disappointed.
‘Are you sure he’s not having you on?’ she asked. ‘A privatised secret service seems a bit odd. He might be a gangster or the mafia or something.’
‘I was introduced to him at the embassy by Nightingale and Feather.’
‘That could mean anything. And who exactly are these people you know who know the president?’
‘Well, there’s Herrera – and me, of course – and those two women the president talked to in the market and who were in the restaurant today.’
‘But you hardly count. You haven’t seen Carlos since school and you weren’t all that friendly then. Who are these women?’
‘Singers, I think.’
‘Where from?’
‘I don’t know.’
She laughed. ‘You do get yourself into pickles sometimes. Only you would get mixed up with a privatised secret service, a president, a sinister colonel and a chorus. And now you’ve
got to mend a car and you don’t know one end from another.’
‘It’s just a way of getting closer to the president.’
‘It might get you as far as his garage.’
She was amused in the way she used to be when they had first known each other. He was glad he had done nothing for which he need feel guilty. Nor would he now. He would enjoy Theresa’s
company, certainly, but that was all. Anyway, he wasn’t doing it for that.
‘Might it not be dangerous?’ she asked as he was preparing to go.
‘Oh no, nothing like that.’ The notion of danger hadn’t occured to him.
‘Max Hueffer says that the Russians really are moving in a big way economically and that the government is getting more extreme. People have started disappearing.’
‘Which people?’
‘I don’t know. People who oppose the government.’
‘I wonder if that really is true. The press is fairly free.’
‘Is it?’
‘Well, not much less free than it ever was. People still hold protest demonstrations. There was one at the weekend.’
‘I thought that was a government rally.’
‘Maybe, but anyway . . .’ He was less confident now; he kept thinking of Manuel Herrera. ‘How does Max know all this?’
‘I don’t know. He just seems to know things.’
He searched for the car keys. He would take the company Datsun in case he needed to pull or push the lame Dodge. ‘Perhaps I should take some tools.’
‘Are there any?’
‘I don’t know.’
She found a hammer in one of the kitchen cupboards, a solid piece with a heavy head and claw. He put it in his duffel-coat pocket. ‘Might be better than nothing,’ he said, to
encourage himself.
He dithered over leaving. She seemed much better-humoured and he no longer wanted to go. The whole business was an uncomfortable mixture of the serious and the absurd. She kissed him, which she
hadn’t done for some time. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said.
Plaza San Marco was in the old part of the city, not far from his shop, an area of cobbled streets and large faded buildings. The darkness spawned a fine invisible rain and the wind flapped
William’s duffel-coat against his legs as he walked from the car, except where the hammer weighed it down. Theresa was already beside her Dodge, holding an umbrella and shivering beneath a
long dress and shawl.
‘There is no need, really, we don’t have to do this,’ she said straight away. ‘You can come in.’
‘No, no, it’s quite all right.’
‘Are you an expert with cars?’
‘It depends what’s wrong.’
She smiled. ‘I think you are not an expert.’
High heels made her as tall as him. She stood close while they
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