Agustín stepped forward and nervously touched Ramirez’s arm. ‘Señor sargento.’ Ramirez looked round impatiently.

‘What?’

Agustín swallowed. ‘Señor, the psychiatrist is studying this man. I – I do not think the comandante would want him harmed.’

Ramirez frowned. ‘Are you sure? This one?’ ‘

Por cierto, sargento.’

Ramirez pursed his lips like a child deprived of a treat. He nodded reluctantly.

‘Very well.’ He leaned over Bernie, hot breath rancid with garlic blasting into his face. ‘Take that as a warning. And you – ’ he gestured to Vicente – ‘get back to work.’

He marched away, Rodolfo following. Agustín scurried after them; he did not look at Bernie.

THAT EVENING, as the men lay on their bunks waiting for lights out, Vicente turned to Bernie. The lawyer had slept most of the evening.

‘Better?’ Bernie asked.

Vicente sighed. ‘I have rested at least.’ His face was drawn and seamed in the dim candlelight. ‘You?’

Bernie lightly touched the long cut on his neck. He had bathed it, he hoped it would not become infected. ‘I’ll be all right.’

‘What happened this morning?’ Vicente whispered. ‘Why did they let you go?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve been trying to work it out all day.’ Ramirez’s leniency was the talk of the camp; at supper Establo had asked him about it suspiciously. ‘Agustín said I was under the psychiatrist, but the psychiatrist wouldn’t care what state I was in.’

‘Maybe Agustín wants you in his bed.’

‘I wondered that but I don’t think so. He doesn’t look at me in that way.’

‘Someone looked at me as we came in,’ Vicente said quietly. ‘I saw him.’

‘Father Eduardo? Yes, I saw too.’

Bernie had had to help the lawyer on the last part of the evening journey back from the quarry, supporting him as he walked. As they crossed the yard he had seen the young priest come out of the classroom hut. He had paused and followed them with his eyes as they hobbled to their hut. ‘He has me marked down now,’ Vicente said. ‘For him I would be a good prize.’

SANDY’S OFFICE was in a shabby square full of shops and little warehouses advertising bankrupt stock. It was raining, a cold thin rain. An old newspaper seller watched Harry lugubriously from the shelter of his kiosk as he crossed the square. On the other side some men unloading boxes from a cart looked at him curiously. So far as Harry knew no one was following him now, but he felt exposed nonetheless.

A line of electric bells was set into the lintel of a heavy, unpainted wooden door. A steel plaque beside the top one read ‘Nuevas Iniciativas’. Harry rang and waited.

Sandy had telephoned him at the embassy. ‘Sorry to have taken so long, but about this business opportunity – can we meet, at my office, not the cafe? I’ve got some things to show you. Barbara will be joining us afterwards for coffee.’

Harry had met with Tolhurst and Hillgarth in Tolhurst’s office that morning for a briefing. Hillgarth was in a good mood, his saturnine face relaxed, self-satisfied.

‘Could this be the gold?’ he asked, his eyes dancing.

‘He’s been very cagey about that,’ Harry replied cautiously.

Hillgarth ran a finger down the crease of his trousers, frowning thoughtfully. ‘We hear Franco’s trying to negotiate supplies of food from the Argentines. They’ll want paying, eh, Tolly?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Hillgarth nodded and leaned back in his chair. ‘Whatever he’s offering, I think you should take the bait.’ He laughed softly. ‘No, that’s not quite right, you’re the bait and he’s the fish. OK, Tolly. The money.’

Tolhurst opened a folder and looked earnestly at Harry. ‘You’re authorized to offer to invest up to two thousand pounds in any relevant business proposal of Forsyth’s. If he asks for more, you can come back to us. We’ll provide the money, but you should show Forsyth your own bank book showing you’ve got funds.’

‘I’ve got it here.’ Harry passed over the little cardboard book. Hillgarth studied it carefully.

‘It’s a lot of money.’

‘I got my parents’ capital when I was twenty-one. I don’t spend much.’

‘You ought to live a little. When I was your age I was running a tin mine in Bolivia – what I wouldn’t have given then for five thousand pounds.’

‘Useful that Brett kept it,’ Tolhurst said. ‘London doesn’t like fake bank books.’

Hillgarth’s large brown eyes were still fixed on Harry. He shifted a little, remembering he hadn’t told them about Enrique. It was stupid and stubborn but he hadn’t. What harm could it do?

‘Maestre tells me his daughter’s heartbroken you haven’t been in touch since you went to the Prado,’ Hillgarth said.

Harry hesitated, then said, ‘I’d rather not see her again, frankly.’

Hillgarth lit a Gold Flake, studying Harry over his lighter. ‘Nice little señorita, I’m surprised at you.’

‘She’s hardly more than a child.’

‘Pity. Could be useful diplomatically.’

Harry didn’t reply. He was lying to Sandy and Barbara, wasn’t that enough deception without adding Milagros?

‘I suppose some would say you’re an ideal agent, Brett,’ Hillgarth said musingly. ‘Incorruptible. You don’t chase women, you’re not interested in money. You don’t even drink much, do you?’

‘We had a few the other night,’ Tolhurst said cheerfully.

‘Only most agents are corruptible. They want something, even if it’s only excitement. But you don’t go for that either, do you?’

‘I’m doing this for my country,’ Harry said. He knew he sounded stiff and pompous but he didn’t care. ‘Because I was told it’d help the war effort. It’s another form of soldiering.’

Hillgarth nodded slowly. ‘All right, that’s good. Loyalty.’ He considered. ‘How much would you do, for loyalty?’

Harry hesitated, but Hillgarth’s contemptuous manner had angered him and that made him bold. ‘I don’t know, sir, it would depend what I was asked.’

Hillgarth nodded. ‘But there may be limits?’

‘It would depend what I was asked,’ he repeated.

‘I doubt Forsyth has limits. What do you think?’

‘Sandy only lets you see what he wants you to see. I don’t really know what he could be capable of.’ He paused. ‘Probably just about anything.’ Like you, he thought.

‘Well, we’ll see.’ Hillgarth leaned back. ‘As for today, see what he’s offering, say you’ll go in with him and then report back.’

‘But don’t jump at it, Harry,’ Tolhurst added. ‘Appear doubtful, worried about your money. Say you need to know everything before you commit yourself.’

‘Yes,’ Hillgarth agreed. ‘That’s the line to take. That way he’ll show you more.’

A PLUMP WOMAN in her fifties with a lined face and grey hair tied in a bun answered the door. ‘Yes?’ she asked.

‘I’ve an appointment with Señor Forsyth. Señor Brett.’

She led him up a narrow flight of stairs into a little office where a typewriter stood on a battered desk. She knocked on a door and Sandy emerged, smiling broadly. He wore a pinstripe business suit, a red handkerchief in his breast pocket.

‘Harry! Welcome to Nuevas Iniciativas.’ He smiled at the secretary, who blushed unexpectedly. ‘I see you’ve met Maria, she brews the best tea in Madrid. Two teas and two coffees, Maria.’ The secretary bustled away.

‘Come in.’ Sandy ushered Harry into a surprisingly large room. A big table cluttered with maps and papers took up one wall. Harry was surprised to see several gleaming metal canisters, like big thermos flasks, piled there too. Above the table was a reproduction of a nineteeth-century painting. A tropical sea teemed with savage life, giant reptiles seizing one another in bloody jaws as pterodactyls wheeled in the sky above. Opposite, behind a large oak desk, two men in suits sat smoking.

‘Sebastian de Salas of course you know,’ Sandy said.

‘Buenas tardes.’ De Salas rose and bowed, shaking Harry’s hand. The other man was small and sallow, dressed in an ill-fitting suit. In contrast to de Salas’s sharp neatness, he looked like a dowdy clerk.