‘That’s right.’

‘And now you’re doing it for real, eh? I used to read your books at school. Harry didn’t like them but I did. Adventures. You’re like me, you like adventures.’

Hillgarth didn’t reply.

‘Though you romanticized things. Remember that one set in Spanish Morocco? You didn’t show what the colonial wars were really like. The savagery.’

Hillgarth smiled. ‘What it was really like wouldn’t have got past the censor.’

Sandy nodded. ‘I dare say you’re right. There are censors everywhere, aren’t there, making us believe the world’s better and safer than it really is.’

‘Let’s get back to business, Forsyth. I think you could still be useful to us. Someone who could pull off a stunt like that, Jesus. But if we rescue you from this mess, it’ll be on our terms. To start with, you’ll need to tell this to people in London. We’ll escort you back on a plane. Understand?’

Sandy hesitated a moment, then inclined his head. ‘Perfectly.’

‘Right. Come to the embassy at ten tomorrow. You’re living with an Englishwoman, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘How much does she know about the mine?’

He gave a cynical half-smile. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ He looked at Harry again. ‘Barbara’s as innocent as a babe in the woods, isn’t she, Harry?’

Hillgarth grunted. ‘You’ll have to tell her something about why you’re going back to England.’

‘Oh, I think she’ll just be pleased to be going home. Besides, I doubt we’ll be together much longer. She’s not a factor.’

‘Good.’ Hillgarth rose and looked down at Sandy. ‘That’ll do for now. I think you’ve the makings of a good agent, Forsyth.’ He smiled at him. ‘But don’t piss us around.’

Sandy nodded. He stood up, extending a hand to Hillgarth. He shook it.

‘What about your house?’ Tolhurst asked.

‘Rented from one of the ministries. Rent free, actually.’ Sandy extended his hand to Tolhurst, who hesitated a moment, then rose and shook it. Harry got up too. Sandy looked at him for a second, then turned away and walked to the door. Tolhurst followed him out.

Hillgarth stared at Harry. ‘Christ, he’s a cool customer. That mine, Jesus, the work we’ve put into it. I suppose he couldn’t’ve been lying?’

‘I think he was telling the truth,’ Harry said quietly.

‘Yes. If the bloody thing was real it would’ve been a big bargaining counter and he’d have used it. I suppose that’s why he confessed it was all faked straight away. He’d guess it was probably only a matter of time before the truth came out.’ Hillgarth thought a moment.

Tolhurst came back and sat down. ‘Sir Sam will go mad, sir. All these resources, Maestre alienated, all for a mine that never existed. My God.’

‘Yes, I’ll have to pick the right moment to tell him.’ Hillgarth shook his head and laughed. ‘Screwing Franco himself. Well, Forsyth’s got balls, you have to give him that.’ For the first time he looked at Harry sympathetically. ‘Sorry your role had to come out, but there was no alternative if we were to discuss the mine.’

Harry hesitated. Then he said, ‘It’s all right, sir, nothing surprises me any more. I’m not even surprised any more at the Knights of St George, the government going in for mass bribery of the Monarchists.’

‘Harry,’ Tolhurst said uncomfortably. Hillgarth raised his eyebrows. Harry went on, it was all over and he didn’t care any more.

‘Only I wonder why it was necessary to bribe them,’ he added bitterly. ‘They don’t want to go to war against us, they know we don’t mind what they do to the people here.’

Harry expected Hillgarth to lose his temper, part of him wanted him to, but he only gave a little contemptuous smile.

‘Go away, Brett. Get yourself sorted out with your girly, then you can go home. Leave Spain to people who understand what needs to be done.’

THAT EVENING BARBARA sat at home, nursing a cold. She really did have one – it had come on the day before, and with her running nose and red eyes it had been easy to exaggerate the symptoms and pretend it was flu. She had suggested sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms to reduce the risk of Sandy catching it and he had agreed. He seemed more preoccupied than ever, he hardly seemed to notice what she said now.

He had told her he wouldn’t be back until late. She had spent the afternoon in her bedroom, keeping up for Pilar the pretence of having flu. She listened to the radio, trying to get the BBC, but reception was bad. Then she sat by the window, looking out over the snowy street. After a while she became conscious of a dripping sound somewhere. She opened the window. The air was distinctly warmer and meltwater was dripping from the trees. Already a green patch had appeared under the elm in the front garden. She felt a surge of relief. If the snow was going, that would make Bernie’s rescue easier.

Tomorrow she was taking Harry and Sofia to her final meeting with Luis. They had agreed she would meet him alone first; Barbara feared if she came in with two other people Luis might take fright and flee. After she had explained matters to Luis, the others would arrive. She didn’t see how he could object. Sofia was right: having her and Harry there could only help their chances. She was grateful to them but still felt betrayed by Harry; what complexities there had turned out to be under that quiet surface.

Her reflections were interrupted by a knock at the bedroom door. She jumped up and closed the window. As she crossed to the door she blew her nose loudly and tried to settle her features into the tired look of an invalid. Pilar stood outside, her face surly, her hair under the little cap frizzier than ever.

‘May I have a word, señora?’

‘All right. Come in.’ Barbara’s tone was curt. The girl could hardly expect otherwise; she and Sandy had hardly bothered to hide what they had been doing. She stood in the centre of the room and faced Pilar.

‘What is it?’

Pilar crossed her hands over her white apron. There was sullen anger in her eyes. People always hate those they’ve injured, Barbara thought. She supposed it kept guilt at bay.

‘I would like to give my notice, señora.’

That was a surprise. ‘Oh, yes?’

‘I would like to leave at the end of next week if that is convenient.’

It wasn’t much time to find someone else but Barbara would be glad to see the back of her. The daily would cope. She wondered what had happened. Had Pilar and Sandy had a row?

‘This is very sudden, Pilar.’

‘Yes, señora. My mother in Zaragoza is ill, I have to go to her.’

It was an obvious lie: Barbara knew her parents came from Madrid. She couldn’t resist a dig.

‘I hope you haven’t become unhappy, working for my husband and me.’

‘No, señora,’ Pilar replied, still looking at her with angry half-closed eyes. ‘My mother in Zaragoza is ill,’ she repeated.

‘Then you must go to her. Go tonight if you like, I’ll pay you till the end of the week.’

Pilar looked relieved. ‘Thank you, señora, that would be good.’

‘You’d better go and pack. I’ll sort your money out.’

‘Thank you.’ Pilar curtsied and walked quickly out of the room. Barbara took the key to the bureau where she kept her money. Good riddance, she thought.

PILAR WAS PACKED and gone within an hour. From her window, Barbara watched her walk away up the path with her heavy battered suitcase, her shoes leaving deep footprints in the fast-melting snow. She wondered where the girl would go to. She went down to the kitchen. It was a mess, dishes piled in the sink and the floor unswept. Barbara supposed she ought to do something about it but she couldn’t be bothered. She sat there, smoking and watching the dusk fall. Then, to pass the time, she made a cocido for dinner.

It was past nine when she heard Sandy’s footsteps. He went into the salón. Barbara walked quietly up the basement steps, hoping to get to her room without him hearing, but he called out from the partially open salón door. ‘Barbara, is that you?’