Part 21 (2/2)
”And right now?”
”At present, according to our man in Barcelona, Raines and our agent and a curious girl who stands somewhere between them are in Tarragona, a seaside resort fifty miles south of Barcelona. Our agent was nicked at the front; so was Raines. They are recuperating.”
”Well, it certainly sounds encouraging,” said Sir Vernon. ”It's not quite how we we would have handled it, but in the main you seem to be doing rather well, Sir James.” would have handled it, but in the main you seem to be doing rather well, Sir James.”
”Thank you, sir,” said Holly-Browning.
”You see, James, Sir Vernon and I have just concluded a rather lengthy session of negotiation. That's why you are here.”
”Yes?”
C continued. ”Sir Vernon thinks the Julian Raines matter should be turned over to Security Service. Of course, we cannot agree. Sir Vernon has suggested that he might approach the Parliamentary Intelligence Committee and-”
”But good lord, sir, if that happened, it would all be out in the second. There'd be a scandal, the left would make a martyr out of Raines, the papers would get a hold of it, the-”
”I quite agree,” said C.
”Gentlemen, I merely want to make certain that all data that is pertinent to MI-5 matters arrives at MI-5 headquarters, that's all,” said Sir Vernon. ”I think we all agree on the ultimate disposition of the case, but it seems equally certain that Julian Raines will have information of great import to us.”
”And so you see, James,” said C, ”we have cut a deal. The deal is that we will continue to run the operation and you will continue to do what is best. But all reports must be sent on to MI-5, for their a.n.a.lysts. Is that understood?”
”Yes sir,” said Holly-Browning, furious.
”It's not really so bad,” said Sir Vernon. ”It's a good deal better than having a b.l.o.o.d.y MI-5 snoop in the middle of everything, eh, Sir James?” He smiled.
Holly-Browning nodded politely. But something vexing occurred to him, clouding his smile. Who had informed MI-5?
20.
TARRAGONA.
BELIEVE ME,” SAID JULIAN, HOLDING UP A GLa.s.s OF CHAMPAGNE and blinking in the sun, ”I've been dead and I've been alive and alive is better.” and blinking in the sun, ”I've been dead and I've been alive and alive is better.”
”Hear, hear,” said Florry, hoisting his own gla.s.s.
”To life, then, darlings, the death of us all,” Julian toasted.
Even Sylvia drank, though not as l.u.s.tily as her two companions.
”And how's the neck, Robert?” she asked.
Florry looked at her shyly. She had not said much to him.
”It's on the mend. Another inch or so and he'd have nipped an artery. But he missed, it whizzed through, and here I am.”
”To Spanish marksmans.h.i.+p!” said Julian grandly, ”which accounts for the presence of a full two-thirds of this lovely grouping.”
”We were just awfully lucky,” said Florry. ”Halfway through the second day, a foraging party was less than fifty paces off. We were cooked.”
”And then some wonderfully ingenious fifth columnist touches off the POUM magazine at La Granja, and all the Johnny Fascist types totter off to watch the smoke rise and cheer for their team.” Julian greedily drank more champagne. ”Here's to luck, Julian's wonderful luck,” he toasted again, this time removing his father's wedding ring from under his s.h.i.+rt and holding it, on its chain, out for them to see. ”This little beauty didn't do him him much good, but it's come in handy for us, eh, Stink?” much good, but it's come in handy for us, eh, Stink?”
Florry smiled wanly. ”Indeed,” he said.
”Well put, old sport.”
”Do they treat you decently in that awful hospital?” Sylvia asked politely.
”The Spanish, it seems, can do nothing well except cook,” said Florry, somewhat relieved to turn to a neutral subject. ”Three times a day, they wheel in huge steaming, wonderful meals. Meanwhile men die because n.o.body thinks to change their bandages.”
”The future is definitely behind schedule in Spain,” said Julian. ”I don't believe the present has even arrived.”
Florry sat back in the wheelchair. Sylvia and Julian had contrived to spring him from his great bay of bleeding boys for this outing, and they wheeled him down the two blocks of Tarragona's own Ramblas here to the Esplanade high above the sea. Before him stretched a mile of white sand, a rumpled mess of a Roman arena, and the sleepy, tepid Mediterranean. A few bathers dabbled in it, a few more lay in the sun. The breeze was fresh and salty; gulls flipped and fluted on it. A statue of Christopher Columbus stood proudly atop its pedestal, as at the foot of Barcelona's Ramblas.
”It's lovely here,” said Florry.
”An odd town, Tarragona,” Julian said. ”It seems the revolution hasn't quite reached it. Or if it has, it got rather bored and left early, like Noel Coward at a dreary party.”
Florry looked past Julian, in a splendid white linen suit, to Sylvia. d.a.m.n you d.a.m.n you, he thought. Her gray green eyes were sleepy yet lively; she'd done something to her hair, giving it a kind of frilly, lacy delicacy, and she'd put away her blue overalls and found a pretty dress. How had she met Julian? What was she doing with him while Florry lay in his bed? Was she with him?
He looked back to Julian, slugging down the champagne.
d.a.m.n you, Julian. You just go on, don't you?
”Barcelona is no longer a party Noel Coward would enjoy,” she said. ”The city's ugly. There's a vileness to it. Someone shot Carlos Brea right outside the Cafe Oriente. It was horrible. Someone shot him from a car. The bullet hit him in the head. They don't know who did it, but everybody says it was the Russian secret police. Poor Carlos.”
”Carlos Brea?” said Julian. ”The POUM intellectual? Poor sot. Spoke to him at length. Wanted to use it in a piece.”
”Julian, you're such an awful cynic,” she said, and Florry thought he could hear the love in her voice and see a radiance in her eyes.
They seemed such a wonderful English couple, the tall, blond, elegant poet-soldier who just as easily could have been a banker or a diplomat, and his beautiful, fair woman, as cool and poised as an impeccable statue. They looked so good together that Florry envied them their perfection.
”Have some more of the bubbly, old boy,” urged Julian. ”Do you think it was easy to find this stuff? Good G.o.d, I had to pay a fortune.”
”Bottoms up,” said Florry, finis.h.i.+ng the gla.s.s, feeling the buzz in his nostrils.
”Look, you two,” said Julian, ”eat up and enjoy. I've got to be off.”
”Where are you going?” Sylvia asked.
”To see about a car. I'll be back. I told the chap I'd see him at two. Besides, you two must have scads scads to talk about.” to talk about.”
<script>