to do it.’
‘He was asking about Cleo, not about teaching,’ Smith corrected him. He turned back to Pitt and, with an effort, resumed his formal voice. ‘She is like a child, eager and friendly. If you imagine she has guile in her, then you know nothing of people.’
Pitt was used to being in the centre of a disagreement. In the circumstances, fear and self-defence were natural also. He disliked using the emotional weaknesses of people, but if there really were something wrong, Sofia’s wellbeing might depend upon his finding the truth sooner rather than later.
‘Do you mean that she is also gullible?’ he asked, looking from one to the other of them.
‘Yes,’ Smith said without hesitation. His eyes darted at Ramon, then back again to Pitt.
‘No,’ Ramon contradicted him in the same breath. ‘Not . . . gullible. Perhaps innocent. She has dreams . . . we die without dreams . . .’
‘Gullible,’ Smith repeated, looking away from him. ‘But she is loyal. Ramon is right: she has dreams of saving the world, and she believes that Sofia can do it.’ This time his voice did not give away his own feelings, only that he was struggling to hide them.
Pitt wondered what had made a man like Melville Smith join Sofia’s group. It must be alien to him in every way: to his family background, his culture and all his upbringing. The reason must have been compelling, but was it a need for what Sofia taught, a hunger he could not deny, even at the cost of giving up all that was familiar? Or was it a flight from something he could no longer bear? Was his will to lead because he had a different direction in mind, or simply a natural assumption of power because he was arrogant by nature, unknowingly overbearing?
If Sofia did not reappear soon, Pitt would have Brundage look into the man’s background.
‘And Elfrida Fonsecca?’ he asked. ‘Is she gullible too?’
This time both other men hesitated.
‘I don’t know,’ Smith admitted. ‘She is extremely capable, in administrative matters. We could be in trouble without her, which I am sure she is aware of. It would be very unlike her to absent herself from any of her duties. It . . . it mattered to her belief of herself.’
‘She is much needed,’ Ramon agreed quietly, a flash of anger was in his eyes at Smith’s betrayal of vulnerability, and then something that could have been pity. ‘Which she is aware of,’ he went on. ‘I cannot believe Elfrida would go away from Angel Court willingly. Mr Pitt, I fear very much that there is cause to be concerned . . . even afraid.’
Smith moved a step closer to Ramon. ‘For once I agree completely. There are certain papers I would like to show you, Mr Pitt.’
Ramon drew in his breath sharply, then looked at Smith and changed his mind about arguing.
Smith turned back to Pitt. ‘If you would come with me to my office . . .’ He began to walk away, his bearing stiff, and very upright.
Pitt nodded to Ramon, and then followed after Smith out of the hall into a corridor, leaving Ramon standing alone, his face reflecting the trouble within him. Ramon did not seem to be aware of Henrietta Navarro marching towards him, her angular frame stooped a little forward.
Smith led Pitt to a room that had been made into an office, which was very pleasant, if a little dark. The mullioned windows looked out on to the court itself. The direct sun was blocked by the height of the surrounding buildings, leaving only a gentle light. He closed the door and invited Pitt to be seated.
Pitt waited for Smith to open a drawer for the papers he had referred to, but instead he simply sat down on the opposite side of the desk and folded his hands.
‘I am reluctant to tell you so much,’ he began, ‘but I fear that events have made it necessary. It is after eleven o’clock, and we have had no word from Señora Delacruz, or either of the women who appear to have gone with her. This has never happened before, and is
‘He was asking about Cleo, not about teaching,’ Smith corrected him. He turned back to Pitt and, with an effort, resumed his formal voice. ‘She is like a child, eager and friendly. If you imagine she has guile in her, then you know nothing of people.’
Pitt was used to being in the centre of a disagreement. In the circumstances, fear and self-defence were natural also. He disliked using the emotional weaknesses of people, but if there really were something wrong, Sofia’s wellbeing might depend upon his finding the truth sooner rather than later.
‘Do you mean that she is also gullible?’ he asked, looking from one to the other of them.
‘Yes,’ Smith said without hesitation. His eyes darted at Ramon, then back again to Pitt.
‘No,’ Ramon contradicted him in the same breath. ‘Not . . . gullible. Perhaps innocent. She has dreams . . . we die without dreams . . .’
‘Gullible,’ Smith repeated, looking away from him. ‘But she is loyal. Ramon is right: she has dreams of saving the world, and she believes that Sofia can do it.’ This time his voice did not give away his own feelings, only that he was struggling to hide them.
Pitt wondered what had made a man like Melville Smith join Sofia’s group. It must be alien to him in every way: to his family background, his culture and all his upbringing. The reason must have been compelling, but was it a need for what Sofia taught, a hunger he could not deny, even at the cost of giving up all that was familiar? Or was it a flight from something he could no longer bear? Was his will to lead because he had a different direction in mind, or simply a natural assumption of power because he was arrogant by nature, unknowingly overbearing?
If Sofia did not reappear soon, Pitt would have Brundage look into the man’s background.
‘And Elfrida Fonsecca?’ he asked. ‘Is she gullible too?’
This time both other men hesitated.
‘I don’t know,’ Smith admitted. ‘She is extremely capable, in administrative matters. We could be in trouble without her, which I am sure she is aware of. It would be very unlike her to absent herself from any of her duties. It . . . it mattered to her belief of herself.’
‘She is much needed,’ Ramon agreed quietly, a flash of anger was in his eyes at Smith’s betrayal of vulnerability, and then something that could have been pity. ‘Which she is aware of,’ he went on. ‘I cannot believe Elfrida would go away from Angel Court willingly. Mr Pitt, I fear very much that there is cause to be concerned . . . even afraid.’
Smith moved a step closer to Ramon. ‘For once I agree completely. There are certain papers I would like to show you, Mr Pitt.’
Ramon drew in his breath sharply, then looked at Smith and changed his mind about arguing.
Smith turned back to Pitt. ‘If you would come with me to my office . . .’ He began to walk away, his bearing stiff, and very upright.
Pitt nodded to Ramon, and then followed after Smith out of the hall into a corridor, leaving Ramon standing alone, his face reflecting the trouble within him. Ramon did not seem to be aware of Henrietta Navarro marching towards him, her angular frame stooped a little forward.
Smith led Pitt to a room that had been made into an office, which was very pleasant, if a little dark. The mullioned windows looked out on to the court itself. The direct sun was blocked by the height of the surrounding buildings, leaving only a gentle light. He closed the door and invited Pitt to be seated.
Pitt waited for Smith to open a drawer for the papers he had referred to, but instead he simply sat down on the opposite side of the desk and folded his hands.
‘I am reluctant to tell you so much,’ he began, ‘but I fear that events have made it necessary. It is after eleven o’clock, and we have had no word from Señora Delacruz, or either of the women who appear to have gone with her. This has never happened before, and is
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