Part 12 (1/2)
”They wanted to abort the coup,” she summarized.
With her eyes fixed on the road, she expounded her theory for Coy. The cabinet of the Pesquisa Secreta Pesquisa Secreta was not so secret after all. There was a leak, a hint of what was being plotted. Maybe the Jesuits had an informer there, or intuitively suspected what was being schemed. was not so secret after all. There was a leak, a hint of what was being plotted. Maybe the Jesuits had an informer there, or intuitively suspected what was being schemed.
”Of all the members of that cabinet,” Tanger explained, ”only one was not a pure Thomist. The Conde de Aranda could be considered, if not a 'friend of the fourth vow,' at least more favorable to the Ignatians than the radical Roda, Campomanes, and others. Maybe he was the one who dropped a few timely words to his former social intimate, Padre Nicolas Escobar. It wouldn't have had to be a confidence, not even words. Among people so schooled in nuances and diplomacy, silence itself could be read as a message.”
Then Tanger had Men silent, leaving Coy to imagine the era and the cast. Her left hand was resting on her knee, on the blue cotton skirt an inch from the gears.h.i.+ft. Occasionally, Coy brushed against it when he s.h.i.+fted from fourth to fifth on the straightaway or s.h.i.+fted down before a curve.
'And then,” she said, ”the Jesuit leaders.h.i.+p formulated a plan.”
Another silence, with that thought in the air. She should write novels, Coy thought admiringly. She handles the unfinished story better than anyone I know. And though I don't know which of her a.s.sertions are true, I never saw anyone state them with such aplomb. That's not even considering the way she gradually lets out line-just enough slack that the fish doesn't get away, just enough tension that it doesn't throw the hook before she sinks a gaff into its gills.
'A risky plan,” she said, taking up the story, ”with no guarantee of success. But it was based on knowledge of the human condition and the Spanish political situation. As well, of course, as familiarity with Pedro Pablo Abarca, Conde de Aranda.”
In a few words, in the objective tone of someone reading off data, never taking her eyes from the asphalt ribbon that undulated before them in the searing heat, Tanger described Charles's minister: an aristocrat with all the privileges of breeding, brilliant military and diplomatic careers, French intellectual and social influences; pragmatic, enlightened, energetic, impetuous, a bit insolent. A fine choice to head the Council of Castile and the cabinet for the secret inquiry. Also given to luxury, to expensive carriages with splendid horses and liveried servants, and theater and bullfights in an open coach, he was popular, ambitious, a free-spender and good friend to his friends. Wealthy, and yet always in need of more funds to maintain a lifestyle that at times verged on excess.
”The words,” Tanger continued, ”were money and power. Aranda was vulnerable in those areas, and the Jesuits knew that. It wasn't for nothing he had been their student, or was well known to the Society's directors.
”The plan was conceived with meticulous audacity. The best of their s.h.i.+ps, the fastest and safest, with the best captain, secretly set sail for America. Padre Escobar was a pa.s.senger. There was no official record of his leaving Valencia, because the s.h.i.+pping doc.u.ments for that stage of the Dei Gloria's Dei Gloria's voyage were not preserved, but the Jesuit was definitely on board the return voyage. His initials, along with those of his companion, Padre Jose Luis Tolosa, were on the manifest of the brigantine when she left Havana on January 1, voyage were not preserved, but the Jesuit was definitely on board the return voyage. His initials, along with those of his companion, Padre Jose Luis Tolosa, were on the manifest of the brigantine when she left Havana on January 1, 1767. 1767. And they had certain doc.u.ments and objects with them. Keys to influencing the will of the Conde de Aranda.” And they had certain doc.u.ments and objects with them. Keys to influencing the will of the Conde de Aranda.”
With his hands on the wheel, Coy laughed quietly. ”In short, they wanted to buy him.”
”Or blackmail him,” she replied. ”In one way or another, the fact is that the mission of the Dei Gloria, Dei Gloria, of Captain Elezcano and the two Jesuits, was to bring back something that would change the course of events.” of Captain Elezcano and the two Jesuits, was to bring back something that would change the course of events.”
”From Havana?”
”Precisely.”
'And what did Cuba have to do with all this?”
”I don't know. But in Havana they brought something on board that could convince Aranda to manipulate the secret inquiry. Something that would nullify the storm that was going to be unleashed upon the Society.”
”It could have been money,” Coy suggested. ”The famous treasure.”
He tried to underplay the importance of his words, but he felt a s.h.i.+ver as he spoke the word ”treasure.”
Tanger, eyes straight ahead, was stony as a Sphinx. ”It could have, it's true,” she said after a bit. ”But that doesn't mean money is always involved.”
'And that is what you intend to find out.”
He stole a glance at her from time to time. Her eyes never left the blacktop.
”I intend to locate the Dei Gloria Dei Gloria first of all. And then find out what she was carrying... Whatever it was, whether by chance or by the cold calculations of the Society's enemies, it never reached its destination.” first of all. And then find out what she was carrying... Whatever it was, whether by chance or by the cold calculations of the Society's enemies, it never reached its destination.”
Coy slowed as they came to a tight curve. On the other side of a fence were real bulls, grazing beneath an enormous one-dimensional black bull advertising a well-known sherry.
”Do you think it was a coincidence that the corsair xebec was where she was?”
'Anything is possible. Maybe the other side knew what was going on and wanted to get a head start. Maybe Aranda himself was dealing from two decks____ Or if the Dei Gloria Dei Gloria was carrying was carrying something that could be used against him, he might have wanted to neutralize her.”
”Well, depending on what it was, it's also possible that it hasn't withstood two and a half centuries at the bottom of the sea. Lucio Gamboa said...”
”I remember perfectly well what he said.”
”Well, so you know. Treasure, maybe. Anything else, forget it.”
Now the highway wound downhill through brilliant green meadows before again ascending. One of Andalusia's famous white villages lay up to the right, hanging from the peak of a mountain. Vejer de la Frontera, Coy read on a road sign. Another arrow pointed toward the sea: Cape Trafalgar, 16 kilometers.
”I hope it's treasure,” Coy said. ”Spanish gold. Bars of silver. Maybe our Aranda could be bribed.” After a pensive moment, biting his lower lip, he asked, ”How could we bring it up without anyone knowing?”
He was amused at the idea. Jesuit treasure. Bars of gold piled up in a hold. Unloading by night on a beach amid the ratde of stones dragged by the undertow. Doubloons, Deadman's Chest... yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum. He ended up laughing aloud. Tanger did not join in, and he turned to look at her.
”I know for sure you have a plan,” he added. ”You're the kind of person who always has a plan.”
He had accidentally brushed her hand as he s.h.i.+fted, and this time she drew it back. She seemed annoyed.
”You don't know what kind of person I am.”
Again he laughed. The idea of the treasure, the pure absurdity of it, had put him in a good mood. He felt years younger: Jim Hawkins was making faces at him from a book-filled shelf in the Admiral Benbow Inn.
”Sometimes I think I know,” he said sincerely, ”and sometimes I don't. In any case, I'm not taking my eye off you. With a treasure or without it. And I hope you've thought about my share, partner.”
”We're not partners. You're working for me.”
”Oh s.h.i.+t, I'd forgotten.”
Coy whistled a few bars of ”Body and Soul.” Everything was in order. She had orchestrated the song of the sirens, the doubloon of Spanish gold was gleaming from the mast before the eyes of the sailor without a s.h.i.+p, and meanwhile the rented Renault was leaving Tarifa behind, with its constant wind and ghostly blades whirling on wind turbines. The engine was getting too hot on the hills, so they stopped at a scenic viewpoint above the Strait. The day was dear, and on the other side of the strip of blue they could see the coast of Morocco. More distant and to the left were Mount Acho and the city of Ceuta. Coy watched the slow progress of an oil tanker sailing toward the Atlantic. It was a little outside its lane, crowding the markers separating the two-way traffic, and would obviously have to alter its course to make way for a cargo s.h.i.+p approaching its bow. He imagined the officer on watch on the bridge-at that hour it would be the third in command-eyes glued to the radar, waiting till the last minute to see if he was lucky and the other s.h.i.+p would alter course first.
”Besides, you're going too fast, Coy. I never said anything about treasure.”
She hadn't spoken for at least five minutes. Now she was out of the car, beside him, staring at the sea and the coast of Africa. ”That's true,” he conceded. ”But you're running out of time.
You're going to have to tell me the rest of the story when we get there.”
The white wake of the tanker traced a slight curve toward the European sh.o.r.e in the Straits below. The watch officer had thought it prudent to give sea room to the closing merchant s.h.i.+p. Ten degrees to starboard, Coy calculated No officer touched the controls unless the captain authorized it, but correcting by ten degrees and then returning to course was reasonable.
”We're not,” she said in a low voice, ”there yet.”
THE offices of Deadman's Chest Ltd., were at 42B Main Street, on the lower floor of what looked like a colonial building with white walls and window frames painted blue. Coy looked at the plaque screwed to the door, and after a brief hesitation rang the bell. Tanger had refused to meet with Nino Palermo in his office, so he had been charged with the exploratory mission, and, if the signs were favorable, with setting up a meeting for later that day. Tanger had given him precise instructions, detailed enough for a military operation. offices of Deadman's Chest Ltd., were at 42B Main Street, on the lower floor of what looked like a colonial building with white walls and window frames painted blue. Coy looked at the plaque screwed to the door, and after a brief hesitation rang the bell. Tanger had refused to meet with Nino Palermo in his office, so he had been charged with the exploratory mission, and, if the signs were favorable, with setting up a meeting for later that day. Tanger had given him precise instructions, detailed enough for a military operation.
'And what if they beat me to a pulp?” he'd asked, remembering the rotunda of the Palace.
”Palermo puts business before personal matters,” was her answer. ”I don't think he'll try to settle accounts. Not yet.”
So there he was, staring at his stubble-covered face in the bra.s.s plaque, breathing as if preparing for a death-defying dive.
”Senor Palermo is expecting me.”
The Berber standing inside the open door looked even more menacing in the daylight, his funereally black eyes dissecting Coy, recognizing him before he stood aside to let him pa.s.s. The vestibule was small and paneled with precious woods, with a few nautical touches. There was an enormous s.h.i.+p's wheel, a diving suit, and a model of a Roman trireme in a large gla.s.s case. Also a desk of modern design, and behind it the secretary Coy remembered from the auction in Barcelona and the Palace rotunda. A comfortable chair was positioned beside a coffee table with copies of Yachting Yachting and and Bateaux, Bateaux, and there was a straight chair in one corner. On that chair sat Horacio Kiskoros. and there was a straight chair in one corner. On that chair sat Horacio Kiskoros.
This wasn't a gathering in which you smiled and said ”h.e.l.lo,” so Coy did neither; in fact, he did nothing but stand quietly in the entryway, expectant, while the Berber closed the door behind him. The three pairs of eyes focused on him were not exuding excessive human warmth. The Berber, stolid and unthreatening, mechanically and efficiently patted Coy down, starting at his ankles.