‘That’s OK. It’s a big site.’

‘Yes. But the land we have has been comprehensively surveyed.’ He looked round at Harry. ‘The new samples are from the farm nearby.’

Otero handed round mugs of coffee and sat down again. ‘It is so frustrating. We cannot start intensive work until we have ministry clearance. Under Spanish law minerals under the soil belong to the government and it is a matter of agreeing our mining rights, our commission. The ministry keep demanding more samples, which cost more money, and we need funds if we are to buy the farm. We have the Generalísimo’s support in principle, but the ministry keep telling him to be cautious and he follows their advice after the Badajoz fiasco last year.’

‘If Madrid agreed and you got the farm, how much could you make? Over a year, say?’

Sandy laughed. ‘The big question.’

Otero nodded. ‘One cannot say exactly, but I would say twenty million pesetas. Once we bring the farm to full production, who knows – thirty, forty?’

‘That’s over a million pounds the first year,’ Sandy said. ‘If you bought a three per cent share, that’d be fifteen thousand sterling for a five hundred pounds investment. Thirty thousand if you put in a thousand.’

Harry sipped his coffee. It was bitter, globules of powdered milk floating on the surface. Sandy and Otero sat looking at him, smoke curling from their cigarettes.

‘That’s a lot of money,’ Harry said at length.

Otero laughed. ‘You English, always you understate everything.’

‘Especially Harry.’ Sandy laughed and stood up. ‘Come on, we’ll show you the diggings.’

They walked him over the site, showed him how slightly different colours in the earth indicated different gold content. The ground was dotted with little circular holes; Otero explained that was where samples had been taken. Clouds appeared, chasing each other across the sky.

‘Let’s look at the labs,’ Sandy said. ‘How’s your hearing these days? It seems OK.’

‘Yes, it’s pretty much back to normal now.’

‘Harry injured his ear at Dunkirk, Alberto. The Battle of France.’

‘Really?’ The geologist inclined his head in sympathy. They came to the laboratory hut and went in. There was a harsh chemical tang in the air. Long benches were covered with glass filters, big metal pans and trays full of clear liquid and the yellow earth.

‘Sulphuric acid,’ Sandy said. ‘Remember that from stinks lessons at school? Don’t touch any of those jars.’ They led him round, Otero explaining the processes for extracting gold from the ore. It didn’t mean much to Harry. As they left he looked again at the blockhouse, noticing the little windows were barred.

‘What’s that?’

‘We keep the ore for the second stage of the refining process there. It’s too valuable to leave lying around. The key’s back in the office, but have a look through the window if you like.’

The interior was dim but Harry made out more laboratory equipment. There were a number of large bins as well, mostly full to the brim with yellow soil, ground down to a fine tilth.

They went back to the office where Otero, still friendly, made more coffee.

‘I have experience on the South African goldfields,’ Otero said. ‘It was the place for a geologist to go when I was young. I learned some English there but I have forgotten it now.’ He smiled apologetically.

‘How does this place compare?’

Otero sat down. ‘Much smaller, of course. The Witwatersrand deposits are the biggest in the world. But there the quality of the ore is poor and the seams run deep underground. Here the quality is high and it is on or near the surface.’

‘Enough to give Spain serious gold deposits?’

‘Enough to make a significant difference to the country? Yes.’

Sandy looked at Harry over the rim of his cup. ‘What d’you say, then?’

‘I’m interested. But I’d like to consult my bank manager in London, write to him. Just in very general terms, about investing in a gold mine with proven reserves, I won’t say where, comparison with other investments and so forth.’

‘We’d need to see the letter,’ Sandy said. ‘Seriously, this is a confidential project.’

Otero looked at him with the sharpness Harry remembered. ‘As we said, no one at the embassy must know. A letter to England may be opened by the censor.’

‘Not if I send it via the diplomatic bag. But I don’t mind you seeing it before it goes, if you like.’

‘A bank manager will say it’s a risky investment,’ Sandy warned.

Harry smiled. ‘I won’t necessarily take his advice.’ He shook his head. ‘Three per cent of a million.’

‘In the first year.’ Sandy paused to let this sink in. Harry thought, perhaps that could have been mine if I wasn’t spying on them. He had a sudden urge to laugh.

Sandy rose and clapped his hands on his knees. ‘OK! I should be getting back. Dinner with Sebastian tonight.’

Otero smiled again as he shook Harry’s hand. ‘I hope you will come in with us, señor. It is the right time for you to invest. A thousand pounds would be useful to us now, prevent the ministry from grinding us down. And for you – ’ he waved a hand – ‘the possibilities…’ He raised his eyebrows.

As Harry and Sandy crossed to the car the gatehouse door opened. A different man emerged, small and thin. To his astonishment Harry recognized Maestre’s ex-batman, Milagros’s chaperone.

‘Lieutenant Gomez,’ he said without thinking. ‘Buenos días.’

‘Buen’día,’ Gomez muttered. His face wore an impassive soldier’s expression but an agonized beseeching look in his eyes brought Harry up short. His heart sank as he realized he had made a mistake, a serious one.

‘You know each other?’ Sandy’s voice was sharp.

‘Yes, we met at a–a function a while ago, didn’t we?’

‘Sí señor, a function, that was it.’ Gomez turned and opened the gate, keeping his head averted as the car passed through. Sandy watched him in his mirror as he went back into his hut.

‘He’s our new gatekeeper,’ he said. ‘Just come on duty.’ He spoke quietly, conversationally. ‘How did you come to meet him?’

‘Oh, at a function, a party.’

‘You met a doorkeeper at a party?’

‘As a servant, a servant. Family retainer or something. Perhaps he got caught pinching the spoons.’ Harry laughed.

Sandy was silent for a moment, frowning. ‘General Maestre’s party that you told me about? For his daughter?’

Hell, Harry thought, hell. Sandy was so bloody quick; Maestre’s party was the only one he had mentioned and Sandy would have remembered, Maestre being an enemy. Sandy was still looking at the gatekeeper in the driving mirror.

‘Yes. When I took Maestre’s daughter to the Prado later, he picked her up. As I say, he must have been sacked.’

‘Perhaps.’ Sandy paused. ‘He came recommended, said he was an unemployed veteran.’

‘If he was sacked, he’d need to explain not having references.’

Sandy’s voice became casual. ‘Seen any more of the daughter?’

‘No. I told you, she’s not my type. I’ve met someone else,’ he added, to distract Sandy’s interest. But Sandy only nodded. He was frowning now, thinking. Harry thought, Maestre’s put Gomez in here as a spy and I’ve just betrayed him. Hell. Hell.

They passed through a village. Sandy stopped at a bar. Outside, two donkeys stood tied to a rail.

‘Can you wait just a minute, Harry?’ he asked. ‘Got to make a quick phone call, something I forgot.’

Harry waited while he went into the bar. The donkeys at the rail made him think of the Wild West. Gunfights at dawn. What would they do to Gomez? The stakes were very big. He swallowed. Had Maestre sent him here as a spy? A couple of ragged children stood looking at the big American car. He waved and they turned and ran away, bare feet slithering in the mud.

Sandy emerged. His face was set and cold in a way that reminded Harry of the day he had been caned in class, the day he began planning his revenge on Taylor. He opened the car door and his face relaxed, he smiled. He got in. ‘Tell me more about this girl,’ he said as he started the engine.